Chapter Four:
Being Held Captive
Pissed. That's the first thing I felt when regained consciousness. Now it's the throbbing, pounding headache ripping through my skull like worms beneath the skin. The room is nearly pitch black, there's one light. A small lantern hanging on the hook on the other side of the small metal room. Even so, I couldn't make out any objects, it was mostly just black blob shapes with no defining characteristics.
The sound of heavy footsteps forces me to move my rebellious limbs. They feel like spaghetti noodles that have been thrown in a blender. Wobbly and complete undependable. Just at the door opens florescent lighting flickers on, blinding me.
A big, heavily built man with a curly, gross mountain men beard. He was dressed in black pants and a dark shirt to match. His eyes were a slated as shutters and dark as coals. His skin looked green under the lighting. He hauls me up by my forearm and ruffly shuffles me from the room and out into a narrow hall. It's unsettling, not a sound to be heard.
The floors out here are stone, meaning that this is a cave or a hidden tunnel. My holding room must be metal as a precautionary measure. Our footsteps against the compacted earth is the only sound. The man leads me through the maze of conjoining paths.
There's a door at the end of the hallway, and that's exactly where my captor is leader me. He seems to have to knock some type of secret pass code. Only when he hears two knocks back to back from the other side does he push the door open. Moss and damp earth fills the air. This room is entirely compacted dirt, it's wide and open like a rectangle.
When I finally notice the wooden desk sitting in the rooms center, I snort. How stupid. What's the point of having a desk down here, doesn't this guy know that the humidity and moisture in the air will warp the wood?
A man with sandy blond hair stands behind the desk, his back facing me. This man isn't nearly as imposing as the behemoth behind me, but his calm and collected posture sends an uneasy feeling through me. Blondie turns, revealing a jagged white scar slashing across his left eye. Ice blue eyes, cold and cunning, examining me, picking away at my very being.
I shiver, uncomfortable.
"The resemblance is uncanny," he mumbles to himself.
"What resemblance, you son of a bitch?" I growl, feeling my lips curl in fury. I don't appreciate being kidnapped, I'm not some helpless damsel in need of saving.
Blondie lets out a hardy laugh. The kind that comes from the gut. "To your father of course."
I get rigid.
"That's right, no one's supposed to know that are they? You even have his foul mouth. Though, I suppose it's not that surprising. The man does make up half of your DNA."
On the outside I try to keep a angry, neutral expression; on the inside however, I'm freaking out. How can he know? There shouldn't be any available records of my birth certificate, I made sure of that a long time ago. Yet here is this stranger who some how knows. This can't be happening.
"Oh, and where did you hear that from?" I retort, smirking. "Don't you think I'd know id someone as rich as Tony Stark was my father. Not to mention the stake of money I would get if he was. So if he was my father, why would I be here and not with him?"
He smiles, a dangerous undertone to it. "You hate him, that's why. You don't need charity and you wouldn't allow yourself to get hurt if 'Daddy' doesn't want you, so you stay away. You can't be hurt if he never finds out. As for how I knew, your mother told my older brother about her pregnancy with you, she even sent him a copy of your birth certificate. He was supposed to gain custody of you if she were to die. That didn't work out though."
"You know, I'd be inclined to give a shit, but I honestly don't care. I don't know anything about you and your brother, therefore, pointless."
"Patience is virtue Panic. Alas, my name is Jedidiah Stane," he says finally. My eyes jump out at the name. "My older brother was Obadiah Stane."
"You mean that old bald guy who had that terrorist group the Ten Rings abduct Tony Stark?" I scratch my head. "What with your family and forcibly taking other people?"
"Cute, but do you know what happened to him?" Jedidiah asks, his voice sweet like sugar.
"He died."
"Was murdered!" Jedidiah shouts, slamming his fists against the top of his desk. "The rest of the world thinks my beloved big brother vanished on a plane ride for vacation, they don't know that your father killed him. I knew it was a cover up, so when I found out about you, Panic Stark, I knew I'd found it. My ace in the hole, who better to take down a Stark than another Stark?"
If this asshole calls me Panic Stark one more time, I will kick the crap out of him. This big, boulder of a man won't be enough to stop me. I might share a genetic link to Tony Stark, but his last name certainly isn't mine.
As for what happened to Obadiah, of course I knew. When I found out that S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved, I did a bit of digging in their system. The truth about how Obadiah had paid the Ten Rings to kill Tony Stark in Afghanistan and how they wanted him to building the Jericho Missile. I learned about Obadiah's desire to have total control over Stark Industries.
The reason I did the digging was because, as much as I hate it, Tony is my father and he's the only living relative that I have. Even if I've avoiding meeting him and stayed away from him. He's still important to a degree and it's important for me to be informed about what's going on with him.
"They covered it up," Jedidiah mused. "That organization. You'll be the force I need to take it down."
"What exactly do you want me to do you lunatic?" I shout, wanting so badly to just lunge at him, but I know I wouldn't get far.
He widens his eyes, laughing hysterically as if it were a joke. A hilarious one at that. "For you I have many plans. The first one is for you to make me a suit, like dear old dad has."
I feel the color drain out of me, leaving me like a gray blob. An Iron Man suit, fully operational? How the hell can this guy expect me to build something of that degree, I don't even know what all would be needed. An arc reactor for sure, which I'd have to build from scratch. Not to mention that I've never studied arc reactor technology and then the armor plating would have to be welded by hand.
I highly doubt this cave lair has a wielding shop after all. Not to mention that I'd have to guess what pieces are on the inside, all the wiring. Just thinking about it makes my head spin.
As smart as I am, I'm not my father.
He's much more intelligent than I, even if I hate admitting it, not to mention that he graduated from MIT at seventeen. And at the top of his class. I haven't even graduated from high school yet.
I meant to say something bad ass, instead it comes out like: "Wh-what?" my voice squeaky, choked and mangled sounding.
"Build me an Iron Man suit and I'll allow you to goo free."
Bullshit.
"Are you insane!" I finally manage to gather my thoughts to form words. "How the hell am I supposed to do that? I've never even taken a close enough look at the armor to even begin to draw blueprints of it, much less calculate the propulsion force needed for flight or to ejects weapons with trajectory angling. It's near impossible without at least a prototype!"
Jedidiah hold up a hand, as if to silence my protests. "I'm fully aware of the complications of such a task, but if anyone in the world could replicate Tony Stark's work, it would be his only daughter. You. I've already made preparations and have acquired the original blueprints for the Iron Man armor and pictures of the current models."
There's a moment of silence. Then, "Do we have a deal?"
I already know my answer. Even if I somehow managed to create a fully functioning Iron Man suit, Jedidiah could unleash chaos upon the world. All the people he could kill, the death on my head, it would be my fault. Build a suit and stay alive, or say no and face his wrath. Torture. The word terrified me, I've seen enough to know it won't be good.
The guilt that will consume my soul isn't worth it though. I'd rather face death than be the cause of it, I already have was mark against my soul, I don't need any other night horrors to haunt my sleep. If my pendent wasn't broken, I could just escape. Now I severely regret not fixing it the night before the expo.
After this I'll have more nightmares. One's of this time in my life, the horror I'm about to face. I won't break, I refused to. I'll have to be strong now and fight until my last breath.
My answer comes out in a whisper.
"No."
A/N:
Here it is, chapter four rewritten. This one was interesting to write, I think I originally had to go back and add something into this chapter for something in a later chapter of the original series. I'm also getting rid of the decision part on the first section of chapter five and instead go right into the torture. I'll probably be doing some research on torture and updating the methods used so chapter five may be a bit more graphic this time around. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this and I'll be back soon with rewritten chapter five!