Just a quick update while I gather my thoughts for next chapter. Enjoy, and thank you all so much for your reviews, favourites, and follows.
**8**
There's a buzzing sound on the edge of his hearing. Curious, Tony tries to reach for it.
"..."
It's hard to move amongst all the black.
"...r..."
Hey, he got something. Suddenly anxious, he pauses. Does he want to know what the buzzing is saying?
"Sir."
Red washes over the black and he jumps back into consciousness.
"Sir, you must wake up."
"'Mhere, J." But speaking hurts, his mouth dry and bitter tasting. He groans. "Th'fuck?"
"Welcome back, sir," and that's relief in Jarvis's voice. "You're exhibiting signs of a severe concussion. I would advise you try to move carefully."
A concussion? Tony frowns as he tries to remember what that is. When it comes to him, so does everything else. "Feel like I met the business end of a bomb," he grunts, squinting at the blank HUD. Rather than a three dimensional screen, there's a spiderweb of cracks and a dent pressing into his cheekbone. Also, opening his eyes is proving to have been a mistake. "Any news on the team?" he asks, locating his limbs and forcing himself to his hands and knees. A wave of nausea gives him pause while he focuses on not throwing up.
"None, sir," Jarvis says apologetically. Tony's so fucking thankful his AI can tap through the comms in situations like this. "Though I feel I should inform you that privacy settings have been activated on the common floor of Avengers Tower."
"Only the team can do that," Tony mutters, surprised. His head pounds as he tries to think. "Thought you said you didn't have anything on them."
"The Avengers were not present when this happened," Jarvis reports. "Presently I am unable to perceive the goings-on of that floor."
"Privacy mode'll do that to ya," Tony sighs, sinking back to the ground. Grey spots at the edges of his vision make it hard to focus. He closes his eyes for a brief moment. "I'll uh, when I get back t' the Tower I'll give the override."
"Sir," Jarvis says, alarmed, "please stay awake. You must get to a medical facility."
"Hrnnng," he mumbles. "Later."
"Sir, please -"
**8**
"Mr Stark -"
"Iron Man -"
"Is he awake?"
"Somebody tap the helmet or something."
"Is he alive?"
"Is that blood?"
Tony groans. The noises outside stop.
"J, why is it so noisy?"
"News crews and journalists have gathered around you, sir."
"People?" he asks, muddled. "Why are there people?"
"Because," and now Jarvis sounds nothing short of miffed, "you've been lying in the armor in the middle of a battlefield for no less than seven hours."
Tony garbles unintelligibly. "Why."
"You have a concussion, sir. We've had this discussion four times."
"Hm." He cracks his eyes open, and in the absence of blinding light, blinks. "Does that mean permanent damage?"
"Fortunately for you, sir, short-term encoding failure is common for people with concussions."
"Oh, good."
"Mr Stark, are you alright?" A woman's voice from outside. Tony lifts his head off the ground, neck protesting at the weight of the crushed helmet. The HUD is dark.
"Peachy," he sighs.
"The suit should come online in ninety-seven seconds, sir," Jarvis promises.
Tony scowls, peeved. "Why didn't this happen sooner? Preferably seven hours ago?"
"You were concussed," Jarvis says primly, "and in no state to pilot the suit." "And?" "And an unknown enemy suspected to be Loki drained the power reserves."
Tony's head hits the ground. "Fffffffffffuck."
"Mr Stark?" Another voice from outside.
"Yep," he yells, "I'm good!" This time his voice makes it through the cracked and damaged helmet, starting a flurry of mutterings and activity.
"Mr Stark, can you tell us what happened?"
"Mr Stark, would you mind telling us why you're still in Central Park?"
"Mr Stark, where is your team?"
That gives Tony pause. "J, where's the team?" he demands.
"At the moment I am unable to locate the Avengers," says Jarvis. "I am sorry, sir."
"Why?"
Jarvis is so kind to tell him the answers everything he's been asking for the last seven hours.
"So then they have to be on the common floor," Tony realizes. "Were they invisible or something? You have the tech to sense them, J."
"I do, sir," his AI agrees. "They simply were not there."
"But what -"
"Suit online," Jarvis announces above the familiar whine of the suit rebooting. Instantly the weight of the suit is gone as the joints lock up millimeters above where they were digging into his skin.
"Pins and needles, pins and needles," Tony moans. "Ow."
"Which medical facility would you prefer?" asks Jarvis. A list of nine appears on the HUD, rendered illegible by the damage to the screen.
"The Tower," Tony decides.
"But sir, you are in no state to confront anyone," Jarvis protests, "physically or emotionally."
Tony narrows his eyes. "The Tower, Jarvis."
"But sir -"
"I'll get scanned in the new med floor after I check out the common floor, okay?"
"Fine," Jarvis says, with far too much sass and petulance for an AI his age. The suit helps Tony push himself to his feet, working through the dizziness and nausea and pain that punches him in the gut.
"Am I bleeding?" he asks no one in particular, and apparently the suit's speakers are back online because he gets a solid round of "yes"es by the crowd he can sort of see around him. A reporter or something steps closer.
"Mr Stark," she begins, and oh boy, "why isn't your team here to help you?"
"Good question," he grunts without thinking. Then he realizes what he just said and sighs. "Look guys," he says, projecting his voice, "I'm on Avengers business at the moment, so if you'll clear out some I can get out of here and find my team. And get this stupid helmet off. It's digging into places it shouldn't be digging into."
"You're injured," someone says in alarm. "Of course I'm injured," Tony says, exasperated. "I'm concussed. Now give me room."
The crowd dutifully backs up several feet.
"J," Tony commands, "take me to Avengers Tower."