3 – The Cave
JARVIS' urgent voice woke her with a start; hastily dressing, she leaped out of bed and made her way out into the living room. She yawned as she did so, stretching quickly like a cat. Edwin was already there when she arrived, and Neville was slowly opening his own bedroom door to come downstairs. "what is it," she asked Edwin, though the old man simply shrugged and helped her sit down slowly on the couch, "what's going on? Is something wrong with Harry?" it was JARVIS' silky smooth voice that answered the question.
"apologies miss Granger," the A.I replied, and she craned her neck up to listen to his next to words. "Mr. Potter called not wrong ago from Afghanistan. I scanned military reports from the region. There was an ambush near to the place where the Jericho demonstration took place. There have been no reports of Tony Stark's body having been found with the other dead, however." With out even a moment's hesitation, Edwin took charge of the situation.
"Jarvis," the butler instructed, "turn on the TV." Neville nodded as he reached, sitting as he wrapped an arm gently around her shoulder. She refused to let the two men see her cry. The screen switched on without a word. Edwin quickly swiped through the channels, looking for anything to offer any further information on what was happening. Eventually, after going through all of the channels and finding nothing, he switched off the television. He moved toward the elevator.
"I'm going down to the labs. JARVIS and I will use the computers down there to try and find out anything we can. The computers down there are faster and stronger then anything else on the house anyway. I'll get back to you when we know more" Neville nodded as the old man made his way downstairs. He gently pulled her even closer. She took a deep breath, before burying her head into Neville's shoulder.
The tears still refused to come. She took several deep, bracing breaths. Her best friend was missing, and their last words to one another had been angry and hateful. She sat up from Neville's shoulder with a start. Her friend frowned. She leaped from her spot on the couch, rushing towards the kitchen. Neville stood up, following her.
"What is it? Mione? Where are you going?" she ignored him, grabbing the Starkphone lying on the bench as she leaned against the hardwood surface. She held the phone in both hands. She spoke slowly, still in shock as she did so.
"JARVIS," she whispered, voice raw from the pain, "can you scramble the call for me?" she waited a few moments for the response. The light in the top right corner of the room blinked red twice, and JARVIS replied. For a moment, she could have sworn the A.I wasn't as calm as usual. She must have imagined it, though, she decided. She was tired, only half awake.
"of course, Miss. No one can hack the call now. You may call when ready". She smiled sadly, and quietly thanked him. She tapped the name on the phone, waiting as it rung a few times. Eventually, he picked up, and Dean's warm voice filled her ear.
"Pepper," he began, letting her know he was in a room with other people, "I take it you heard?" she nodded, despite knowing he couldn't see her. "Pepper," he repeated, sounding anxious, "you still there?" she blinked, returning to reality.
"Yeah, I'm here. Listen, can you get alone for a few moments?" Dean was silent for several moments. She waited, hoping he would say yes, hoping he hadn't just hung the phone up on her. Eventually, he replied. "OK Hermione, I'm alone. Let's talk." She smiled gratefully.
"Thank you, Dean", she told the other Gryffindor. "what's happening with SHIELD?" she heard Dean sigh on the other end, and could almost picture him running a hand through his hair. She guessed things must be difficult at work. After all, as far as SHIELD were concerned, he had been the one to let Tony Stark be taken on his watch.
"Look, Hermione," he began, hesitating before he spoke once more, "all we know is that there's no body, but there's been no demands made. Official SHIELD position is that he's dead". She felt her heart leap into her throat, and almost wanted to be sick. Before she could snap at him or order him not to give up, he continued "I'm not entirely sure about that, though. I spoke privately with my boss, told him that we suspect there's a mole in Stark's company." She took a deep breath, possibilities running through her mind. None of them were good.
"Don't worry," he assured her, "I didn't tell him Harry wasn't Tony, just that Tony told me he's been worried since the last couple of attacks." She nodded once more. Good. At least someone was willing to keep going. At least there was someone who wouldn't give up on her best friend. She needed him back, needed the chance to say sorry and reconcile.
"You listen to me, Dean Thomas. He's alive, I know he is. You don't stop looking until you find him. You don't give up, even if SHIELD try to put you on something else. Even if they fire you, you bring him home. And if he dies, whatever pain they inflict on him; I will bring down ten times as much torture on your head. Do you hear me?"
Dean chuckled darkly. "Don't worry," he told her, and she smiled slightly at the attempt to cheer her up. "I know what you'll do to me if this goes wrong. Not to mention, I want him back too, mione."
"Good Luck", she told him, switching off the phone. She walked back over to the couch, sitting down beside Neville once more. He smiled at her as she let her head drop onto his shoulder, and finally allowed herself to cry. He wrapped his arms around her, and laid back on the couch. She continued to cry until she cried herself to sleep, Neville's arms still safely wrapped around her.
He awoke with a start, taking deep, rasping breaths of air. There was definitely something wrong. The last thing he remembered was dust, pain, and fire. After ten years, he was used to waking up hungover in the mornings after late night fun. This wasn't like that. Yes, his head was splitting, and yes he felt painfully, unbearably exhausted but this was not a normal hangover.
For one, he had never experienced a hangover, not even on his worst nights, where his entire body was on fire. It was as though someone had beaten him within an inch of his life, taken a dagger and slammed it into his chest and through to his spine, then set his still living body on fire. In all his life he'd never felt like this. The cruciatus curse hadn't been able to make him feel like this. Not even tom's killing curse could. That had felt like his soul had been torn out. This – this was worse.
He let out a groan, stretching to try and sit up on the god-awful bed provided by his captors. As he moved, he felt an incessant tugging against his face and chest. He followed first the tugging against his head, finding an empty cannula attached to an IV cable running into his nose. Without a second's hesitation he tore the cable loose, grunting softly as he did so. He moved his hand downwards to find a wire poking haphazardly out of his chest. Following it to its source, he stared in horror at a car battery. He let out a voiceless scream of terror, and felt his brain give way to blissful oblivion.
He awoke later in the day to find a thin older man, probably between Remus' age and Edwin's staring down at him, wearing plain glasses, simple clothes, a recording hairline, and a small smile. Harry glared at the old man in disgust. Not for the first time, he cursed himself for leaving his wand behind on the plane. "what the hell did you freaks do to me?" he snarled, gesturing wildly towards the car battery. The old man placed a steadying hand on his shoulder as he reached to tear out the wire.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. This is definitely hell, as you say. And I'm the only friend you've got. I'm the one who saved your life by putting that inside you." Harry listened, disgusted and horrified as the man explained what happened, showing him a piece of shrapnel he had removed from his chest. "in my village, gulmira, we see many man with these sorts of wounds. We call them the 'walking dead' because it takes about a week for the Shrapnel to pierce the vital organs. You are lucky that I was here, Stark. Perhaps this is why they took me, yes? So I could perform the operation to save your life." Harry ignored him, running a hand through his hair. In ten years, he hadn't thought about how he would die. At Hogwarts, and during the war, he'd always been prepared for his own death. Then, it had been an eventuality. It was almost inevitable.
Since meeting Howard Stark, becoming Tony, and running a fortune 500 mega corporation, he hadn't thought about it once. He knew it would come, one day. Part of him would even welcome it; welcome the chance to join his parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Cedric, Fred, and Ginny. Welcome the chance to thank Snape. To ask Dumbledore why he'd done the things he had. But now, there was still so much to do. He had to find the mole. He had to make up with Hermione. Most importantly he – Harry Potter and Tony Stark – needed to take a long hard look in the mirror. He needed to accept some responsibility for what his weapons were doing to the world. But first, he needed out of this cave.
First things first, he needed to know where here was. He turned to his cellmate about to ask that very question, when the door barged open, and several terrorists ran in, pointing guns in their faces and shouting in foreign languages. Harry threw his hands in the air, looking at the older man, who nodded almost imperceptibly as he too stood slowly, raising his hands. The men pushed them onwards and it was all Harry could do to keep a tight clutch on the battery in his hand.
They were led through the cave, the soldier in his head making a note of every step. He blinked slightly as they stepped into the sunlight, weakly lifting his arm to shield himself from the heat. The soldiers stood firmly planted behind him, guns trained on him carefully. It was pointless to run. He wouldn't get anywhere before they killed him. And even if his magic was strong enough to apparate and he wouldn't short circuit the electromagnet in his chest, he couldn't leave his saviour with these maniacs.
He couldn't count on Dean or the military to get him out of this one either. In these mountains, it could take them months to find him, and by that time, he would be dead. Either exposure, the shrapnel in his chest, or these murderers would see to that. In front of him, hands on a Stark Enterprises box, was a bald man in thin, desert-appropriate robes. He turned to face them, smiling almost genially as he walked in their direction.
He spoke quickly in Arabic, before patting Harry jovially on the cheek. Harry pulled away, glaring at him. He shrugged, ignoring the slight as he looked him up and down. Harry's fellow prisoner translated. "Welcome, Tony Stark, the most famous mass murderer in the history of America". Harry tilted his head slightly. "A fan, huh? I'd offer an autograph, but your guys didn't offer me a pen. They just shot missiles at me. My missiles". The man laughed heartily.
"My apologies, Mr. Stark! You do not speak Arabic?" Harry shook his head. The man nodded, slinging his arm over his shoulders. He pulled him away from the group. "English then, yes?" Harry nodded. The terrorist smiled, tugging on his shoulder and slapping his chest gently as if they were old friends. He led him further off, gesturing with his free arm. He cast his arm over the horizon. "Tell me, Stark," he began, pointing across the landscape, "what do you see?" Harry frowned. "rocks. Sand. Hot sun. A few mountains. Not a lot, but hey, I live in a giant mansion. I guess not everyone's perfect." The hand on his shoulder pushed subtly against his chest. He winced slightly.
"That is not what I see Stark. Although your barbaric lack of vision can be forgiven. You are only American, after all." He closed his eyes, taking a deep sniff of the foul, hot air. Harry raised an eyebrow but made no comment. For once, he thought better of it. "I see potential. The potential power of this region, united under one vision," he led him towards a pile of stark weapons. "The bow and arrow was once the pinnacle of weapons technology in these lands. It allowed the great Gengis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine. An empire twice the size of Alexander the great, and four times the size of Rome's empire". Harry nodded, "Asians outdoing white guys. Gotta love it, right?" The terrorist smirked.
"but now, you hold the bow, Stark. Whoever holds the latest Stark Weapons rules these lands. An empire of all Asia. Then, the world. The ultimate Emirate. With me at its head. Together, we will accomplish this. Build me the Jericho, and I will let you live."
"No, you won't"
"No, I won't" he agreed with an almost friendly laugh.
Shield agent Dean Thomas made his way towards an open jet. There was a single canvas bag thrown over his shoulder, with enough supplies to last a week, as well as money to buy more when those ran out. He carefully checked for anyone paying attention, before dashing out across the tarmac. Climbing into the jet, he threw his bag into the back seat, and prepared to climb into the cockpit. There was a sound behind him. Someone clearing their throat. Glancing down, he was met with a head of red hair.
"Hey, Nat", he greeted weakly. Romanoff smirked sweetly up at him.
"Going after Stark, I see," he sighed, stepping down to stand level with her. Slowly, running a hand through his hair, he nodded. She smiled reassuringly, pushing a pilot's helmet into his hands. "Well," she began smugly, "What are we waiting for?" he looked at her in stunned silence. "Wait, what?" she smiled.
"you and Barton are the closest things to friends I've got. If you care about Tony Stark that much – enough to risk your job and your life for him – then I'll help you," she stepped past him, a bag slung behind her own back. "Besides," she added, calling over her shoulder, "You'll need someone to speak the language for you". Dean laughed. Sometimes, being friends with the most feared woman on base could pay off.
It had been five days. Just five days since he'd been told there was a piece of scrap metal digging its way to his heart. In that time, he'd been working hard. Though not on the Jericho missile. He'd decided from the moment he'd seen those young men and women defending him butchered that he was done making missiles for anyone. No more weapons manufacturing. They would just have to move their schedule forwards on that. Instead, he had been taking the materials they gave him, and tearing the missiles apart, breaking them down to get inside them. He smirked as he hit jackpot. His cellmate raised an eyebrow as he stared at it.
"What is it?" he murmured softly. Harry glanced up at him, "that," he began, holding it up to the limited light source they had in the room, "is palladium. About 0.15 grams of the stuff, if my math isn't off. And given who taught me, I'd be willing to bet it isn't. We're going to need at least 1.6, so why don't you go break down those eleven missiles?" The other man nodded, rushing over to do as requested. Later, as they were assembling the reactor, it suddenly dawned on him.
"So, what do I call you? Given you saved my life, and all, I should probably no who to thank." The old man smiled.
"My name is Yinsen. Ho Yinsen". Harry nodded, smiling at him as they worked.
"Nice to meet you, Yinsen".
"It's nice to meet you too, Stark" Harry frowned slightly, but continued. Now wasn't the time. He could do it tonight, after the guards had probably fallen asleep so no one was listening when he did it.
The arc reactor was finished, and it seemed to be working fine. It hummed softly in his chest. He rubbed slightly at the area around it as they ate silently. Finally, he spoke, his words soft. "I'm not Tony Stark. Not really. My real name is Harry potter." With that, he explained everything to the older man. To his credit, Yinsen didn't laugh or mock him. He just listened to his story. Only after he was finished did the older man speak.
"We've actually met before you know. At a conference, in Bern", Harry winced. He vaguely remembered that conference. Hermione had not been impressed with him the morning afterwards. "I honestly don't remember you," he told the doctor. Yinsen laughed, shaking his head.
"no, you wouldn't, would you? If I had been that drunk, I don't think I could have stood, much less give a lecture on integrated circuits. Although, I imagine, your PA holding you steady would have helped you to muddle through it." Harry smiled. He remembered that lecture; it had been before he'd learned everything necessary to be Tony Stark. Edwin had been chattering in his ear the entire time, telling him what to say.
"you have done a good job, Potter. You are very convincing as Tony Stark, although perhaps it is time for Tony Stark to evolve, no?" Harry shrugged weakly, staring into the bowl of food. "I'm not even sure he can," he murmured softly.
Yinsen chuckled, "you'd be surprised how much people can change – when they put their minds to it. So, a wizard? And you fought in a war?" Harry nodded.
"you shall have to show me some magic, when we leave here." Harry nodded, anything for the man who saved his life.
The suit was starting to come along nicely. He had finished the helmet, and now they were beating together and shaping the arms and legs, making sure they would fit around him. He had found a similar concept in very old doodles drawn by Tony when he was a boy. He'd never really felt the need for something like it, but now, he could see the appeal. As Yinsen held the now finished left arm together, harry carefully scratched a series of runes around the edges of the metal, near where the hand would fit. A line of protecting runes, followed by heat runes. Carefully, he held his hand over the metal, pushing the faintest touch of his magic into the material. He staggered softly at the effort, falling back.
Yinsen caught him, helping back into a seat. The older man tried to insist that they stop, but Harry shook his head. At the very least, they needed to get the main peace finished. Sighing, Yinsen dragged the metal over, and helped him to his feet. He stepped forwards proceeding to beet the metal into place.
The next day, he stood in place as Yinsen helped him into the protective gear that would go on before the suit, to protect from the metal and the heat of the flamethrowers. Next, came the chest piece. Eventually, he was standing head to toe in the armor. The only thing remaining was the helmet. As he walked Yinsen through the process of booting him up, they were distracted by shouting, followed by an explosion. They both knew more men were coming after an explosion like that.
Yinsen, in a brave but reckless act of self-sacrifice ran off to draw off the terrorists, and buy him more time. Harry shouted after him to stick to the plan, but he refused to listen. Once the suit was ready to go, Harry tore free of the restraints, the helmet coming down over his head. The heat inside the suit was stifling. Next suit, he'd be putting in a proper coolant. Wait, next suit? Who said anything about there being more?
He didn't have time to worry about that, as he stepped out into the cave. He activated the featherweight runes on the arms, allowing them to swing them as the terrorists ran at him, firing their weapons. He slung them into the walls, felt their bodies give way, watched their necks snap against the cave walls. Still, he pressed on after Yinsen. More rounded the corner. A steady punch in the head was enough to drop one. The others ran back, firing like mad. He activated one of the sets of protective runes, and a shimmering translucent shield appeared around the armor. The men were screaming in horror as their bullets slammed into the shield, dropping to the ground. The barrage ceased, and he stepped towards them, killing them both.
He found Yinsen pinned down by gunfire, the old man bleeding from several wounds. Without a second's hesitation, he activated the heat runes, gusts of blue flame launching from the suit's arms. The men in front of Yinsen burnt to death screaming he hurried forwards, opening the face plate.
"you were supposed to stick to the plan" he snapped at his friend.
"This – This was the plan, Potter" the older man replied, a faint smile on his lips. Harry shook his head.
"What about your family?" he asked. Yinsen shook his head, "my family are dead Potter. I go to see them now." Harry sighed.
"Thank you. For my life" Yinsen stared into his eyes.
"don't waste it. This second chance you have been given, not again. Most men don't get second chances, you have been given two. Do not waste your life, Stark's life, any longer."
"I won't. I promise"
"Good. Go, Stark. Now."
Harry stood back up, moving, enraged to the entrance to the cave. For the last time. There were at least half a dozen terrorists waiting for him, each gripping their guns in horror at his approach. He stood on the lip of the cave above them, staring coldly at them. He may have used the heat runes, but he still had some fire power left. He raised his arms, launching the flamethrowers at them.
As he watched their bodies burn, and listened to their screams, he only had one regret. He wished they could see the predatory grin on his face. He stepped forward, still burning. He flicked his arms over the caches of Stark weapons, making sure to get every last one. He felt bullets hit the suit's leg braces, felt the left leg give way.
He fell to his knee under the weight. Holding up his arms, he activated the second – and last – ring of protection runes. Once more a shimmering shield flickered to life around him. He felt the pull on his magic, felt his energy fading as he tried to stand back up. Eventually, they ran out of bullets, and he let the shield drop. Thinking they had him, they slowly moved in to dismantle the suit.
"My turn," he hissed coldly, he stood, hitting the switch to activate the suit's limited flight thrusters as he did so. He shot into the air, and spew fire on an explosive cannister, watching as they were blown to kingdom come. He flew a little higher, before being thrown through the air by the force of the explosion, and let out a shout as he fell towards the ground, the earth rushing up to meet him.
As he lay in the burning sands, having removed the armor earlier so it wouldn't weigh him down, he saw two shadows pass over him. Glancing up he caught sight of dean and an attractive red head standing above him. Dean smiled as he knelt down. He pulled him into a hug.
"Hey bud, long time no see. Next time, you're riding with me". Warily he nodded.
"OK."
