A/N- It's short but I'm glad I didn't add more, you'll see!
Tony entered the restful kitchen at a casual pace, smiled at John, Bruce and Steve and proceeded to make himself a coffee from the far end of the cabinet. He hadn't slept since he met John in England the previous day, it certainly wasn't the longest he'd gone without sleep but it was still taking its toll. No one would notice anyway! He spun with coffee cup in hand to see John looking at him, he raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner.
"When was the last time you slept properly Tony?" perhaps they would notice.
"Sometime yesterday, no big deal." John raised his eyebrows, "Stop that, whole doctor thing. Go out and see New York. Go up the Statue of Liberty, but no jumping obviously." And with that he left, leaving nothing but tense silence.
"John…"Steve started to say but he was interrupted.
"No its fine Steve, it was a low blow, but I understand why he's snappy." John let out a breath, clearing his vision of ghosts of dead men. Thankfully Bruce changed the subject.
"How long do you think you'll stay?"
"A week maybe, depends if anything happens I suppose." John answered.
"Chaos seems to follow us everywhere so I wouldn't set any store on having a quiet week." Bruce chuckled.
"I'm glad. I wouldn't mind the distraction if I'm honest."
"Even aliens?"
"Hahahaa yeah, even aliens."
Ooooo… Across New York …ooooO
He kept his eyes closed but he could tell the room was dark and damp; the smell of wet mould stung his bleeding nose. His - now ginger - curls flopped over his face and dripped sweat and blood into his lap. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he started this mission, he didn't fall flat on his face for this? To be tied to a ruddy chair in a basement that stank of human flesh, blood and machinery.
"Who are you?" A deep voice from the dark asked, clearly American, but with a note of something not quite human, a New York accent if he wasn't very much mistaken – which he never was. He decided not to answer. There was a hissing sound, the sound of powerful mechanic limbs and whirring mechanisms.
"Tell me who you are, and how you got into this facility, and I may let you live." Emphasis on may… clearly not going to happen, he was going to have to think of a better way to get out of this mess. But that's what he did best, think.
"Not very talkative are you?" Well no, not especially, I think beating me to a pulp and leaving me half-conscious may have had something to do with it, or maybe I'm just that stubborn. A swift blow from a metal (gloved?) hand felt like it fractured a rib.
"ANSWER ME!" He felt the hot breath and spit of hisimpatient captor on his cheek, someone's got anger management issues! Why should this half man half machine American be told anything? He did not fear death, he had already died once. He let out a deep chuckle and the machine man stepped back from him.
"What's so funny?" He took this moment to open his eyes – mostly the left one, as the right was slightly swollen. The man before him was tall; at least 6.5 his blonde hair was greasy and contained flecks of dried blood. Much to his surprise no machinery was visible on this man, he wore a grey shirt and black trousers but there were no odd bumps or oil leaks to suggest any form of crude mechanics ( and no other form of machinery in the room, only the two of them and the chair). It has to be the concussion, making his mind imagine the noises coming directly from the man in front of him. No. He didn't imagine things, not ever.
"You. You make these threats and think I fear you, I fear no one." He answered simply.
"English? Interesting. Why. Are. You. Here?"
"Well… it's a long story I wouldn't wish to bore you with it." The comment was met with a slap to the face. Most strange, the hand that dealt it was definitely human, he could see small cuts and bruises on its flesh as it flew towards his right eye, but when it struck it was like being hit by an iron bar, it was cold and hard.
"Interesting, what are you? Why would you be metal?" he queried. There was a tense silence for almost a whole minuet.
"Punishment." The deep voice replied.
"Someone made you a psycho-robot as punishment? Surely it would have been easier to hand you a pink slip or kill you for making a mistake?"
"No one can escape the Brotherhood of Badoon. Especially not you." There was a tone of regret in the American's voice, regret and anger.
"So you're just the foot solider then, I'd love to meet your bosses."
"Be careful what you wish for." The man said, "Now tell me who you are!"
"My name is…" he was cut off by the sound of a small explosion from somewhere above them.
"Sounds like we have company…"
A/N- Who could it be? Inspiration for this just did a light bulb over my head, and I've done the research for the villain, although he's probably nothing like he was in the comics.
I can always change it but do you like the Marvel villain Korvac? I've got rather attached.
Review box? Hello? Oh there you are! Better write something in there now!
SR x