Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points
Summary:
Two years I had spent with my fellow 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 quite 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 Three
Talk of Heroes
I can't say for sure why I am standing before the beautiful mansion sitting on top of a cliff-face. I can't even begin to understand the reasons myself. Never once, in my entire life, have I felt a need to do this. Yet, here I am, punching in a personal security code to allow myself entrance into the house. It is quiet, and I cry of pure annoyance and anger sound from beneath my feet. Silently, I move down the stairs, and punch in my security code once more. Entering the workshop, my gaze travels over the room before landing on the hunched over figure, leaning over a hologram of an impressive suit of some kind.
"Is everything alright?" the man jumps, and Tony's amber-brown eyes turn on me, glaring, "I heard a yell and came to investigate."
"Oh yeah? Great. You investigated. Now leave."
Not bothered by the curt tone of his voice, I stand at the center of the room, crossing my arms behind my back out of habit, "I came here, in hopes of you..." I lick my lips as the foreign words dance along the tip of my tongue, "accepting my apology for the things I said last night."
"When you actually mean that, you let me know," Tony snorts as he turns his gaze back to the hologram.
"I wouldn't have bothered if I didn't mean it. I assure you, I am not apologizing for my benefit, but I feel as though I offended you," I pause, glancing around the selection of vintage cars, "Though I am not sure how I managed to do so."
"Do you talk to everyone that way?" I quirk an eyebrow, sure that we had already had this conversation, "Not dumbing down your vocabulary is one thing, but do you always have such a condescending way of speaking to people?" Condescending? When have I ever been condescending? "The way you talk to people makes you come off as though you are superior to every other person."
I try not to point out the irony of his words, reminding myself I am here to make peace, "I do not recall ever being condescending to anyone. I've never seen myself as superior to any other person. In a physical altercation, would I have superiority and better trained than my opponent? Most likely. I believe everyone carries a manner of being better than someone else. What about you? You are a genius, rich and happen to be able to fashion any type of electrical database or mechanics? Do you not feel as though all other work is obsolete compared to your own?"
He doesn't reply, and I shake my head, wondering why I ever bothered, "Look, I'm not the type of person who apologizes for their words. I am not quite sure what I said to offend you last night, but I assure you, I never meant for it to be taken as such."
"What is it like?" Tony asks, finally looking up from his work, "To be considered a hero in someone's eyes?"
"I'm not a hero, Stark," I reply, looking away from him.
"Bullshit. Rhodey told me about a few missions you were on, how you single-handedly completed, without any show of failure. You've saved lives."
"I've destroyed lives as well," I hiss, turning my glare to him, "Rhodes may glorify it however he wishes, and while I might have saved a few lives, in that same act I also destroyed lives."
"Yet, those you saved, still see you as a hero."
"That depends on what kind of hero you are looking for," I reply honestly, "Heroes are known for their courage to go out and face the impossible, with the knowledge somewhere in their mind that they might not return from it. Heroes can range from a bystander stopping a kid from running into the street, or to the type that see something that needs to be changed, and knowing that no one else will do so, step up and take charge."
"I thought, shutting down the weapon manufacturing division of my company would solve the problem. I thought, knowing I have a way of creating endless and eco-friendly energy would help better the world instead of creating more destructive weapons," I turn my gaze back to him, watching as he touches the arc reactor at the center of his chest, "Last night, I learned Obadiah issued the lock-out for me with the board of directors, and that he wasn't willing to shut down the weapon manufacturing division. I learned that my weapons were still being sold to terrorists."
I ponder over his words, watching the internal battle waging in his gaze. He is at a loss. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't think there is a way to fix it. Looking over the holographic image of a suit, I watch as he moves and shifts things. Working components made for movement and reaction. I realize this isn't just a suit. Tony was make the final weapon. A weapon that makes all else obsolete.
"This suit you are working on? It is a weapon itself?" I ask, tilting my head as I walk around the schematics.
"The only one of its kind. Not to be mass produced. The very first one, I made while in that cave," Tony comments, looking up from his work as I carefully run a finger over the schematics for the weaponry, getting a closer look at the finer mechanics of each. "When I came back, I started working on a prototype, curious if I can get it to function properly. I think, I started this to keep my mind off of things."
A thoughtful hum leaves my lips as I tilt my head, looking over the boots, and if I am reading this the right way, they are made to give the suit flight capabilities, "It is impressive, Mr. Stark."
"Can I ask you something?" I glance up, seeing a small sign of confliction in his gaze, "You and your friends," he motions to the visible tattoo along my shoulder, "fought everyday in an attempt to do something. What was it you guys fought so hard for?"
"Walker wanted his son to grow up in a world without threat. Douglas wanted his life to mean something. Andrews fought for his pride and his honor. Michaels fought to ensure a better future than the one he grew up in. We all fought, everyday for different reasons. Reasons given so easily and yet carry much more significance than other's realize," I respond, "Walker had a wife and son to go home to. Douglas dealt with parents that told him he'd never amount to anything. Andrews always followed a straight-laced life-style and wanted to help people. Michaels grew up in near-poverty and used whatever extra money he had to rebuild low-income neighborhoods."
"What about you?" Tony asks, "What did you fight for?"
"At first? I'm not sure. I didn't have a real reason to enlist, unless you count pissing off my parents as a reason," I state with a shrug of my shoulder, "I didn't even care much for my regiment in basic, listening to the complain day-in and day-out. After the Special Ops. team was formed and I had a chance to study and understand each member it began to change. Everyday, I fought with the direction of keeping them safe. They had lives to go back to, I really didn't."
"Yet you refuse the title of hero?" I glare up at Tony, who shrugs it off, "You just said you fought to keep them safe, because they had lives to go back to. I'm sure they thought of you as their hero."
"Do you want my honest opinion of who is a hero? The one's that died to protect someone or something they deemed worth protecting. Do you want my honest opinion of who has the potential to be a hero?" Tony nods distractedly as he continues to tweak the schematics, "You."
A cynical laugh leaves his lips, "Oh yes. I can see it now. The proclaimed 'Merchant of Death' turns Hero?"
Standing upright, I glare at the pessimistic tone, "Do you enjoy the fact that terrorists have your weapons?"
"No!" Tony hisses, taking a step toward me as though he can't believe I have the nerve to say such things.
"Do you like the fact that your company is selling them under-the-table?"
"No."
"What about the people dying because of your weaponry being in the wrong hands?"
"No! Does it look like I enjoy any of those things? Like I want my weapons, weapons meant to protect innocents, destroying their lives?" Hands clamp down on my shoulders, tightening like vice-grips, "What the hell am I going to do? I am one man. One man who can't even control his fucking company! One man that can't get stop the weapons his company developes getting in the hands of a bunch of fucking terrorists!"
I know what most would be thinking now. Why am I allowing this man to grab at me? Why am I letting him shake me like a child-done-wrong? Why am I allowing a man I barely know stand so close in my personal space, when Rhodes barely takes the chance? Why haven't I broken his hold and pressed him against the table pressing against my lower spine?
It's simple really.
For one to reach potential, they must first be broken. Tony is definitely a broken man, who refuses to allow himself to believe so. Tony is not the same man people knew four months ago. Tony is a changed man, trying to keep a firm grasp on his past reality, and has not realized the major problem.
There is no going back.
In all honesty, I'm surprised it has taken this long for him to break. Many civilians would have cracked weeks ago.
Again, impressive.
As his rage simmers down and fades from his gaze, I notice the widening of his eyes as he stares down at his tightly clenched hands around my shoulders. Nothing is said as he yanks his hands back, as though my skin is burning embers of a fire, and stumbles back a few feet as though he is intoxicated. Taking the moment of silent surprise, I roll my shoulders, the faint tingle of possible bruises tickling the back of my mind, only to be ignored.
"You are an intelligent man, Tony Stark, and a passionate one at that. You have the means to change the outcome of the situation at hand, you have yet to have a cause, or reason, to do so," I state calmly, watching a faint glint of realization appear in his eyes, "Like I said. There are some heroes, willing to risk their lives in order to protect those weaker than themselves. Then there are heroes, who see a great tragedy, a great dishonor of morale, and watch as people stand by. Those heroes are the type to witness such catastrophy and take things into their own hands."
"You...think I am hero material?" he questions in obvious shock.
I am not sure if it is the conflicted look on his face, the determination in his eyes, or the confusion in his voice, but something about this question causes a faint smile to tug at my lips, "You've already proved to be hero material when you shut down the weapon manufacturing division, in hopes to stop it, without getting physically involved. Seeing as though it is not in your favor to fix this in a pacifying manner, take it up a notch. Show people you mean business," I motion toward the full-projected hologram of his suit, "You have the means, and you of all people have a reason. Now, you just need the courage to make the change yourself."
Figuring that this conversation is done, I turn on heel, only to pause at his next words, "Hey, Kori," I glance over my shoulder, seeing him stand straighter, "I'm not sure, if I am the hero type."
The faint smile reappears, and it seems to register in his sight as I watch his eyes widen, "It is very rare than many heroes ever see themselves as such. Who you are, and who the world sees, have always been, and will always be, two different people, and maybe, it is better that way."
"Prove them wrong, huh?" he muses, a soft grin on his face, remembering our conversation from last night.
I nod, "Of course. Just, for now, I'd keep your identy a secret. Until we can know who is behind your kidnapping, them having knowledge of this new technology could prove fatal for you."
Seeing him snap me a mocking salute, I turn back to the door and leave the way I came. He may not have verbally accepted my apology, but I think neither of us expected me to give one. Walking back to my car, I stare at the house, an odd sense of kinship surrounding me.
Dropping my keys on the small table, I inwardly groan as I hear my laptop beep with a live video chat request. Dropping into the seat, I accept it and find myself staring at the familiar face of Alex Carson.
"Blaines. I came up with that comparitive info you wanted, and I even went so far as to getting Stark's debriefing of what occured before and after the attack on the convoy," Alex states, the soft sound of his fingers tapping against the keys echoing his words, "I'm sending you the files now. I had them encrypted, much like that laptop of your's."
"What would I ever do without you, Carson?" I deadpan, but receive an answering smirk, "Don't answer that. I need you to do my one more favor. I want you to see if you can hack into the private desktop of Obadiah Stane in Stark Industries building."
"For you? Consider it done," he replies instantly.
If there is ever one thing I am thankful for, it was saving the life of a hacking mastermind. Alex Carson caused a lot of trouble a few years ago when he decided to hack into the D.O.D. database, and uncovered some encrypted files that pertained to someone liquidating funding accounts, skimming money from various departments and using the money personally. It didn't put him high in the eyes of those behind it, and a hit had been placed on him.
The rest, is history.
"Information received. Get back to me as soon as possible with that Carson."
Killing the video call, I lean back as I open up the file. Seeing all of the information, I put on a pot of coffee and break the seal to my new cigarette pack.
I am in for a long night of reading files.
And I hate reading.
"Did you know about this?"
My fingers move to cover the yawn escaping me as I reach for the mug of coffee, Rhodes standing at the entrance of my kitchen space. Turning on the stool to stare at my once-superior, I quirk an eyebrow, indicating that I have no idea what he is talking about. Listening as he talks of Tony building a weapon suit, going off, and attacking the Ten Rings encampment. Due to having no sleep, I manage a small smirk as Rhodes explains Tony outmaneuvering professional fighter pilots.
"You knew about this?"
I glare up at Rhodes, "Did I know he attacked a group of terrorists? No. Did I know about his suit? Not really any specifics. Did I know he had a huge desire to stop his tech from landing into the wrong hands? As clear as day, but everyone seemed to think he was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress. Hey, Rhodes, can I ask you a question? If you were sitting on top of a gold mine, and had the luxury of living a comfortable life with money to spare, would you get rid of it without a fight?"
"Hell no."
Just as I thought.
"Is there anyway I can get access to the personal computer of Obadiah Stane, without looking suspicious?"
Rhodes snorts, "Not likely."
"So, I would need to be someone Stane wouldn't see as a threat?"
My words seem to finally click and Rhode's eyes widen, "You think Obadiah is behind this? Come on, the man is like a father to Tony."
"Obadiah Stane is a man that ran Stark Industries, managed to make billions of dollars and he just...hands the company over to a twenty-one-year-old that showed signs of wanting to party and was known for being irresponsible? Obadiah Stane, a man who Tony views as a father-figure, would have stood by Tony's statement in shutting down the weapons division of the company, not head the lock-out of Tony given by the board of directors. Obadiah Stane is the last person Tony spoke with before getting into the convoy, unless you are the person behind his kidnapping."
"The hell I am!"
I stand up from my chair, planting the palm of my hand against the counter, "So my point is made. Obadiah Stane is a greedy man, who is most likely the person selling weapons under-the-table. The only evidence I have is circumstantial."
His eyes brighten, as though the proverbial light bulb clicks on over his head, "Pepper. Pepper is a person Obadiah respects because she deals with Tony on a regular basis and has yet to crack from the pressure. He won't think anything of her being in the office of the CEO she is working for."
"I'll make the call then."
Thanks for those who reviewed. No song during this chapter, and it may seem as though everything is happening fast, but I'm not much for creating filler chapters. All throughout Iron Man, Tony Stark refuses to accept that he can't be the man he once was. He notices people not taking him seriously and shows obvious signs of distrust toward Obadiah after the party. He never really gave himself a way to cope with what happened. For example: If someone is continuously called the same name, or is viewed the same way, every single day, at every turn, that person soon begins to believe the other people. Tony was stuck in a state of 'I'm trying to change' and 'Who am I kidding?'. He needed to be pushed over the edge of that proverbial cliff. He needed at least one person to believe he could be different. Kori is unbiased and her answers are based on facts alone, hence why she is straight-forward about everything.
Let me know what you guys think.
