Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points

Summary:

Two years I had spent with my comrades. Two full years of adapting to life in desert terrain. Two years of dodging bullets, missiles and guerilla tactics. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.

All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.

It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me the focal point in various agencies.

Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me

Author's Note:

I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.

These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is very observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.

One more note:

I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.

Chapter One
The Meetings of Prodigies

I'll admit, life in California is relatively different than Florida. Malibu, a large tourist spot, is undoubtedly beautiful. The landscape alone is enough to attain anyone's attention. Being such a popular vacation spot, I have found it difficult to find a quiet place to escape from this...normalcy. Though, I have managed to happen across small cliff face looking over the Pacific, I have come to understand nothing of this place.

The people are constantly swept up in a rush. Not even those vacationing keep to a single place for very long. No one seems to have time to just relax and enjoy the beauty this place has to offer. If I ever stay in a certain place for very long (a coffee shop, or a park bench) I end up on the receiving end of odd glances and suspicious gazes.

For the past three months, I have kept a close eye on everyone at Stark Industries, while Rhodes keeps an ear out for any negativity from Hammer Industries. Pepper, she insisted in front of a group of people that I refer to her as such, introduced me to several people, Obadiah Stane, who quickly took up Stark's mantle and kept the company running while the man was MIA, and Hogan, who was referred to as Happy for some odd reason, who seemed to be the personal driver and assistant of Stark. Pepper had also given me a close look inside Stark's Malibu home, were I was introduced to Jarvis, an impressively created AI system wired through Stark's entire house. Apparently, Stark carries Jarvis with him everywhere in the palm of his hand in his self-created tablet.

Again, quite impressive.

Nothing came up though. Three months of looking into every possible lead, and I am at a loss of who could be behind it.

For the past two days, I have taken a short leave from Stark Industries, and instructed Pepper to not even bother getting a hold of me. Feeling as though I am missing a big piece of the picture here, I needed to take a reprieve, and today's date, suffice to say, holds a grand importance to me.

A sigh leaves my lips as I hear my phone go off for the twenty-seventh time, in the past six hours. Not bothering to look at the screen, I flip open the phone and place it against my ear.

"I hope this is important."

"Um...Lieutenant Blaines?" a soft, feminine voice replies, unsure and hesitant.

Not recognizing the voice, I pull the phone from my ear and a vaguely familiar set of ten digits peers back at me, "Carly Walker? If my memory serves me correct."

"U-um, y-yes, Ma'am," I inwardly sigh as I hear her response, "I am sorry to have bothered you, but...I haven't had a chance to talk to you in a long time."

"If anyone has the right to call me today, it would be you," I respond curtly, my gaze lifting from the crashing waves, in a hope that the setting sun would burn away the memories.

A tearful giggle echoes my words, "I...I just wanted to see how you have been. I know it can't be easy for you."

"They don't really teach people how to cope with this kind of thing," I answer honestly, "Most days, I feel as though I am on auto-pilot."

"I can understand that sentiment," Carly sniffles, "My therapist tells me that I should try to speak with someone that can understand what I'm going through. I just miss him so much. I never had the nerve to approach you during the funeral, but...I had hoped you would tell me about the man you knew him to be."

"Isaac Walker was a great man. Brave, loyal and strong-willed. He was often the comedy relief of the group, especially when things were in the rough," I lick my lips, trying to hold back the memory of the always-grinning man, "He was my right-hand and the best insurgence officer my team had to offer. He was, first and foremost, the bravest man I have ever known." Hearing her burst into tears, I try to think of a way to pacify her sorrow, "Isaac was a firm believer and standing on your own two feet and learning to walk again. He always boasted of having a strong, independent woman waiting for him at home. If I may be so bold, he would want you to move forward with your life and do what is best for you, and your son."

I wait as her cries fade slowly and sniffles sound on the other line, "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Please, call me Kori, and if you, or your son, ever need anything, don't hesitate. Isaac saved my life that day," Though he did throw me from a five story window, "and I can only hope to return the favor somehow."

"You are a brilliant woman, Kori," she responds, "Isaac always spoke of you with such respect, and I can see why."

Hearing the subtle hint of a rock being kicked by booted feet, I sigh, "I'm afraid I must go. Take care, Carly."

"Yourself as well."

Hanging up the phone, I turn my gaze back to the darkening horizon, "I should have figured you'd find me here, Rhodes."

Feeling the man slide down to sit next to me, his own feet dangling beside my own, I look at him from the corner of my eye for a brief moment, before he speaks, "Tony's back," I give him my attention completely, "He managed to escape. He's been back for the past few days, actually came back the night you told Pepper you'd be MIA for a few days."

"That's good to hear. We still need to figure out what happened?"

Rhodes nods in agreement, before an odd glint flickers in his gaze, "He's asking to meet you. Pepper and some other employees have mentioned your name in passing and he wants to meet the guy."

"I'm take a complete shot in the dark here," I intone sarcastically, "but I'm guessing you did not bother to correct Starks assumption of toward my gender?"

Rhodes grins slightly, "Stark might be brilliant, but sometimes it's fun to knock him for a loop. Imagine, an engineering prodigy, coming head-to-head with my own."

"Very funny," I deadpan.

It doesn't surprise me at all, that Rhodes sees me as his own prodigy. When he had been my drill sergeant, he had been impressed with me. For some reason, and I never had been able to explain it, I took to life in the military fast, and my skills continued to grow bigger and better than before. When he caught wind of his superiors looking for promising soldiers, he immediately put my name up on the proverbial sign-up sheet.

Standing up from my spot, I stretch my arms over my head, "I will be in tomorrow."

As I turn to leave, his voice stops me, "How about a drink? I know today can't be a good day for you."

I grant Rhodes a small, rare smile before feeling my facial features become blank once more, "I could use a drink."

Another thing I've learned about Malibu; there isn't any place like Jake's. All of the bars cater to the young tourists. Loud music is played, frat boys and sorority girls laugh and chatter without restraint. There's no way a person can possibly think.

Even so, the bar seems a bit more...obnoxious than usual. Rhodes and I make our way to the pool tables, I pose a challenger to the drunk frat boys, in order to stake claim to the table. As Rhodes racks the balls, I head over to the bar and wave over one of the several bartenders.

"Can I get a glass of your best bourbon, a Rum and Coke, light on the Coke, and two shots of Jameson?"

Getting the drinks, I wonder back and place the drinks on the table. My eyes take in the frat boys. Both of them, along with their friends, look as though they are three sheets to the wind. Neither could stand very straight, nor hold their cue sticks steady as they line up their shot. This would be an easy win, of course.

"Go ahead," Rhodes motions toward the table after the one frat boy misses his shot.

Twenty minutes into the game, I find myself lining up a shot with the eight ball. Calling the shot, I focus on the corner pocket when my senses prickle. The moment I pull back the cue stick, a large hand grabs at my backside and I take a calming breath before taking the shot. The moment the cue ball streaks across the table, I turn to the frat boy that had the nerve to touch me and by the time the eight ball rolled into the pocket, I have the frat boy face first against the pool table, his arm twisted behind his back.

"I'll take into consideration that you are highly intoxicated and you are not in the right state of mind, so I'm going to make this pretty clear," I hiss into the boy's ear, "You are to take your fellow idiots, call a fucking cab and get the hell out of here."

"Hey! Let him go," one of the guys from behind me calls out.

Standing upright, I shove the restrained kid into his friends, "Call a cab and get the hell out. I'm pretty sure the owner of this place won't take kindly to a couple of punks harassing his customers."

The moment they are gone, the tension along my body fades and I turn to stare at a highly amused Rhodes, "You weren't going to step in, were you?"

"I knew you would handle it," he replies with a small grin.

"If I had half-the-restraint on my skills, I could have killed him," I deadpan.

"I have faith in you."

I snort at his lame attempt, "At least someone does."

"What would you have done, if you didn't have restraint?"

"Broken the cue stick and stabbed him in his throat. Broken his neck. Bashed his head into the side of the pool table. Take one of the bar stools-"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Rhodes interrupts, chuckling as he sets out to rack up the balls for a new game.

Back in black I hit the sack

I been too long I'm glad to be back

Yes I am

Let loose from the noose

That's kept me hanging about

I keep looking at the sky cause it's gettin' me high

Forget the hearse cause I'll never die

I got nine lives cat's eyes

Using every one of them and runnin' wild

An hour of non-stop modern hip-hop music is changed suddenly and I quirk an eyebrow as Rhodes seems to perk up slightly and I follow his gaze, only to find myself staring at a grinning man. Dressed in a Black Sabbath t-shirt and slightly tattered jeans, he moves through the crowd of people with a heavy sense of self-confidence. His hair seems to be a deep dark brown, most likely black, and even from my distance I can see the spark of intelligence in his amber-brown eyes. He isn't very tall, but can't be considered short by any terms. The arrogance he carries in his demeanor seems to encompass everything he does, from taking an offerred drink from a waitress, to the gait of his walk.

"Rhodey!" the man greets with a wide grin as he saunters over to us, his gaze instantly looking over my denim skinny jeans and Sex Pistols t-shirt, "Who's this? A girlfriend?"

If I had been anyone else, I would have winced at the idea of being in any kind of romantic relationship with Rhodes, but my superior simply chuckles off the assumption, "No. Nothing like that. This is Kori Sabelin," I have to admit I am a bit curious by the shocked glint in the man's eyes, "Kori, this is Tony Stark."

Now it makes sense, I think inwardly as I nod in understanding, as the owner of Stark Industries extends his hand, "Pleasure to meet you, though I'll be honest, I thought you'd be more..."

"Masculine?" I prompt, receiving a grin in response as I shake his hand, "Pepper and Rhodes both speak highly of you."

"I've heard nothing but praise from Pepper, but I didn't know you were familiar with Rhodes," Tony comments, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Man, was he easy to read.

"I was actually just catching Kori up since she's been MIA for the past few days. I just finished telling her about your decision to shut down the weapon manufacturing of Stark Industries," Rhode adds.

He shut down the weapon manufacturing for his company? Financially, it's not the best move. His entire company practically built the U.S. military from vintage and problematic arsenal to the state-of-the-art weaponry. To shut down that part of his company would put a major dent in his gross income.

"I was just about to question Rhodes if that was the best idea for your company, financially," I continue, keeping up the ruse Rhodes had come up with in a short amount of time.

A dark look forms on his face for a split second, but due to my conditioning, I catch it before he replaces the look with a faux-grin, "My company was selling weapons under-the-table to terrorists. I don't really know who is responsible, but as it is my company doing so, I am at fault."

The small amount of respect I held previous to this meeting grew partially at his honest reply, and I nod curtly, "It speaks highly of your character to be willing to face possible financial bankruptcy in order to do what is morally correct."

"Has anyone ever told you, you speak weird?" I allow a solitary eyebrow to quirk in response, "Not that I don't understand what you are saying, but Pepper said you had an odd way of speaking."

"I've never been the type to lower the standards of my vocabulary to fit the standards of another person. If they do not understand my words, they often are not worth speaking to," I state out of habit, remembering David having to carry around a dictionary during our high school years. "Unless they are mentally challenged in some manner, I don't see why they should receive such a verbal handicap."

I am mildly surprised when the infamous billionaire laughs outright at my words, "Oh man, Pepper said you had an odd sense of humor."

"I wasn't aware I had one," I deadpan, gaining more laughter in response, and I turn to Rhodes, "Are you finding my honest words carrying any form of amusement or humor? Or am I missing something?"

"No," Tony answers between laughter, "I think it is refreshing that there are still people unwilling to change to fit into their surroundings, or are straight-forward and don't beat around the bush about things."

"It's never my intention to offend, but the weak-minded often misjudge words with such ease," I say, in agreement with Tony.

"Good. I get sick of people pandering to me because of my status," Tony admits, giving a small grin, "Since we are getting to know each other, why not have another round?"

Rhodes and I agree, and finish up yet another game before following Tony to an empty booth. Placing another order for my usual and a shot of Jameson, I notice a mild-sense of surprise in Tony's face.

"The lady knows a good drink," Tony comments toward the waitress, "I'll have what she's having. Rhodey?"

After Rhodes orders a refill and we are given our drinks, I take the time to look Tony over more closely. As he speaks animatedly with Rhodes, I find small lacerations along his face, and he look relatively weary, despite his slightly obnoxious behavior. He is, without a doubt, trying not to show how much his 'disappearance' is affecting him, and I'll be honest when I say it isn't the most brilliant idea. Not for someone of such praised intelligence.

Then again, civilians are stubborn.

"See something you like?"

Noticing the playfully leering grin on his face, I decide to react in my typical manner, "You should be in bed."

"Is that an offer?"

I hear Rhodes choke on his drink, but pay not mind as I continue as though Tony didn't just make such a suggestion, "You look as though, excuse the term, you've been through the grinder. I take it whatever they did was not easy on the human body."

Tony's gleeful expression hardens and Rhodes sits straighter, "I don't think that's any of your business, Ms. Sabelin."

The chill of his tone does not go unnoticed by me, and I do something that shocks Rhodes, "Blaines," Tony's eyebrows shoot up, "My name is Korianna Blaines."

Before Tony can call me a liar, Rhodes jumps at the chance to explain the situation. Slowly, Tony's tension recoils and fades completely as Rhodes tells Tony of why I had been brought in and what I was really doing here. Silence fills the table and I find myself in need of another drink. Rhodes stands as well, saying he had to report for duty in the morning, and I give him a small smile in response. Leaving Tony to his deepened thoughts, I make my way over to the bar.

Staring into the dark substance in my glass, I hum thoughtfully as I knock back the shot. I can see why Rhodes respects Tony to a degree. The man didn't pull any punches, nor did he stop people from making assumptions of him. He did what he felt he needs to do, without taking in anyone else opinion. He reminds me of Isaac Walker to a degree. Charismatic, charming and full of life, despite what had been done to him, though the memories haunt deep within the recesses of his gaze. Lifting my glass in a silent salute to the ghost of my right-hand, I bring it to my lips, closing my eyes as the memories of that day fight for dominance of my mind.

"So, you're the same Blaines Rhodey spoke highly of at some of our meetings?" I nod, opening my eyes as Tony slides onto the stool next to me, "He spoke often of a Major Blaines, his personal prodigy in the military."

"Lieutenant Colonel," Tony's eyebrows shoot up at my response, "My last promotion was Lieutenant Colonel, just over three and a half years ago."

"That's unheard of. You can't be...older than early twenties," Tony exclaims.

"Twenty-six. I'm twenty-six. I was twenty-three when I received that promotion."

An impressed whistle pierces the air between us, "Damn. Rhodey wasn't kidding when he said you were a prodigy."

I give a small shrug, "I don't even know how. My parents were completely against my enlisting, but...to be honest, fighting is all I've ever known. I did Karate, Tae-Kwan-Do and Judo when I was in grade school. Middle school I took up Kick-Boxing. High school I decided to do something different and took up Fencing and Capoeira," The slightest glint of confusion causes me to explain the last one, "Capoeira is a Brazilian form of Martial Arts that mixes Martial Arts and dance. Quick and complex movements, trying to overpower and undermine the momentum of your opponent. Helps teach you how to read movement and how to use your opponent's movements against them."

"Impressive. Any reason why you chose to do all of this fighting?" he asks curiously.

I shake my head, "Not really. It's just...I always felt the need to keep busy. My home-life wasn't easy, but it wasn't as bad as other people have it. My parents didn't abuse me or anything, but they never really made an attempt at making any kind of connection with me. Rarely did I want to go home, only to never be noticed, so I started taking up activities after school."

A self-deprecating smirk appears on Tony's lips as he raises his glass, and in a mocking manner, "To parents who perpetually fuck up their children."

Knowing, deep in my buried heart, that his words resembled something Isaac would say, I lift my glass and allow a small smile to form on my lips, "To never understanding parental figures."

Tony chuckles as he takes a sip of his drink, my movements mimicking his own, "So, this whole ruse? Do you really think someone here could be behind my kidnapping?"

"Do you really think a group of terrorists are going to have knowledge and means of getting to your caravan without inside help?" I retort, getting a shake of his head as a reply.

"May I ask why you needed a few days off of work?"

I glance down at my glass, taking a long sip from it, before licking my lips, "Today is the birthday of 2nd Lieutenant Isaac Walker. After I graduated basic and was extended an invitation to join a Special Ops team, Walker was the only other person selected at the time. The others followed within the following month, but Walker had always been my right-hand. Even when there wasn't a determined leading commander of our group, he followed every instruction I gave him, without hesitation. Three years ago, a mission went south," I clench my fingers around my glass briefly, "and I woke up in an infirmary with the news that my entire squad had died, or there was no trace of them being there."

Tony remains silent, obviously picking up on the sensitive topic, but I continue, "I remember the members of my squad, every year, individually on the day of their birth, because it's better than being reminded of the day they died. The Special Ops. division was disbanded for obvious reasons and I've been living in my hometown ever since."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Tony comments gently, "and if it helps, I'm thankful Rhodey picked you for this secret mission."

I have a feeling, when I look back on my life, that this will be the day remembered not only by the loss of a dear comrade, but the day I managed to carry a level of respect for someone I just met. Thinking back to the whispers of his arrogance and his less-than honorary habits, I wonder if Tony is like me in more ways than he is like Isaac. Tony, a man that hides behind a mask of cheerful abandon and with the love of the high life, and me, a woman that can't seem to find a reason to enjoy life and hides behind the mask she had been forced to wear for over five years- indifferent and stoic.

"So, AC/DC?" I remark, hoping that he would clue into changing the subject.

"Only one of the greatest bands to ever live," he responds with a grin.

I find myself pulled into various conversations over rather mundane topics, but as always, I find myself watching. Watching him. Understanding the notion of a prodigy misunderstood by the masses.

Thank you for those who read the story! I am slowly becoming more pleased with the story as it further progresses. Most people might be wondering why I had Kori give Tony her real name, and I figured a man of Tony's genius would start to notice things; like the familiarity between Rhodes and Kori and would start to dig deeper than most people. Obadiah comes off as a man that has his own blind ambitions and arrogance that he would be the type to look over such things as Pepper gaining an assistant during the disappearance of Tony. Obadiah would assume Pepper is only doing so to pick up the slack left in the wake of Tony's kidnapping, and won't think anything more of it. Kori will start to pick up on more of Obadiah's personality and thus begin to look more into the man.

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Song: 'Back in Black' by AC/DC