In the dead of the night, no one could expect it. Not even the bank guards, who spent every minute watching the small CCTV screens.
"So, Ted, you see the game last night?" one asked to the other, sipping a cup of coffee slowly.
"Of course! Jesus, you'd think with all the offense we've been buying, we could afford to win a game or two."
"Too right, my friend. Too right."
They laughed. One guard looked back down at his monitor and spat out his drink. The doors had been ripped open, and the two outer guards on the ground.
"Come on!"
They got up and grabbed two shotguns, exiting out into the corridor. One guard gestured to the other to take one side, while he ran down to the end. He turned the corner and saw two armed men.
"Freeze and withdraw!" he demanded, but they began firing at him. He ducked behind the corner and fired shots at them. He managed to knock down both of them, and returned to the monitor room. He found his partner lying on the ground, with a single, needle-made puncture mark in his neck. He was still, but not dead.
"You shouldn't have left him alone, mon ami."
He turned to see a tall, wide brimmed man wearing tinted blue sunglasses and a grey suit.
"Who are you?! What do you want?!"
"I'm in a bank, monsieur, put two and two together. As for my name...well, you may call me the Gargoyle. A Grey Gargoyle. Now, be still."
He plunged a syringe into the guard's slightly flabby neck and he began to feel still, like a statue. He fell to the floor, paralysed.
"Now, you wait there. I'm in the money!"
The Gargoyle walked outside and towards the vault, nothing to stop him.
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"...the latest victims of the Statue Killer were found today in the vault of a downtown bank, which had been emptied of..."
Tony switched off the tv. He was ready to start this whole "hero" thing, and couldn't find a better example of where to commence. He didn't notice Pepper enter the room behind him.
"You ok?" she asked, sounding genuinely sympathetic.
"Its been two weeks. He'd have wanted me to move on in his memory."
"Ok. As long as you're fine."
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The Gargoyle sat in the office he'd built himself, contained within a damp safe house. His head hurt even more today than ever, an irritating defect he had been given at birth.
He was almost finished with his heists. They were all in good faith, he'd made sure that no one was injured without reason, and he'd even considered donating any leftover cash to charity. All to live. All to feel.
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"Suit up!"
The Mark II began to assemble around Tony, eventually slamming the face-plate of the helmet down on his nose. Outside was a solid 40 degrees, not that he could feel it.
"Scan for any buildings showing signs of damage."
A long list popped up.
"Ok, scan for any damaged banks."
A similar, slightly shorter list appeared.
"Jeez, how many banks do we have?! Any banks showing signs of...vaults that have been opened."
A single entry popped up.
"Time of opening?"
A static display of five minutes replaced the single entry.
"Just in time."
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The goons weren't too hard to deal with, a single blast enough to render them unconscious. He ventured deeper into the vault, and found a man. He was tall and physically imposing, with military-style hair. He was wearing a light-grey suit, which resembled stonework. His eyes were covered by blue sunglasses, which had subtle, almost-noticeable black rectangles in the middle of each lens.
"So, you're...sorry, what are you?" He had an accent that was an unfortunate hybrid of American and French.
"I'm Iron Man. Now, Pepé Le Pew, you gonna step outside and allow me to willingly arrest you or not?"
The stranger chuckled.
"A man of iron...I wonder if a needle can prick metal skin."
He removed a syringe from his pocket.
"Hey, at least tell me your name before you become even more of a person affiliated with the word prick!"
"I'm the Gargoyle, mon ami. And I believe it's time for you to be still!"
The Gargoyle tried to stab the needle into the gap between two of the plates on Tony's arm, but it didn't work. Laughing, Tony punched him in the ribs, trying to get him to double over. The Gargoyle seemingly felt nothing, shouldered Tony out of the way and ran outside. He disappeared into the night.
"Dear God, I hate flu jabs."
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After sifting through a whole bunch of sites and databases, Tony finally found the Gargoyle.
"Paul Duval," he whispered to himself, reading off a poorly-coded site which seemed to be a spiritual relic of the Nineties, "terrorist, blah blah blah, oh, here we go, that's more like it."
He began to copy down the big piece of info he'd just found, then copied it into his computer. Duval would have to be ready.
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"Duval! I know you're here!"
The Gargoyle stepped back into the vault.
"Ah, so my metal friend returns."
"I doubt we're friends."
The Gargoyle laughed.
"I'm amongst friends, friends on bills. You may as well be included."
"Well, what kind of jerk uses his friends for scientific research?"
The Gargoyle stopped smiling and growled.
"You know?"
"What, that your headaches are incurable? That those injections are various cures, and that you tested yourself first. I know that you can't feel anything now, except for the headaches. And I also know that you only need money to get better resources for research."
"If I were a nervous man, I would consider you a threat mon ami. But I do not accept fear easily."
"Shame. Now no one's gonna cower when I beat your sorry ass!"
The Gargoyle lunged at him, but he responded by blasting him in the chest. Duval flew to the far wall, but got up straight away.
"Just keep trying, man of iron!"
They engaged in a clumsy fist-fight. Tony smacked Duval across the face with a hard punch, but Duval retaliated with an equally strong one. He looked for something, anything that could KO him. He sighed.
"Transfer repulsor power to chest piece." he winced. An almighty ray of powerful energy surged from him, pounding Duval against a wall, unconscious. Tony staggered outside, having enough power to fly home.
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The next day was a flurry of news, detailing the capture of the "Statue Killer". He'd never really gotten how Duval was labelled a killer, considering no one really died.
He had an idea.
"Computer, come here a sec."
An interactive interface popped up from the screen that was embedded in the table.
"No offence, but you're dull. Load File 616."
A long list of names appeared.
"Activate program JARVIS."
There was a moment of silence.
"Good afternoon sir." said the digital voice of Jarvis.
"Afternoon Jarvis. Good to have you back."