Here's a long-ish chapter, because I'm gonna be busy for the next couple of days, and I don't know when the next update will be.
Iron Man characters are Marvel's, Erika is mine
Alright, moment of truth-Erika's story is now merging with the Iron Man timeline (hope I didn't mess it up too bad).
Twelve hours later, Tony and Erika were on-board one of Tony's private jets on their way to Vegas. As soon as the plane landed Tony had headed straight for the casino.
Erika watched him go and then headed up to her hotel room to get ready for the Awards ceremony. She did her hair in a bun with strands of hair framing her face, and her dress for the ceremony was calf-length and a green so dark it was almost black. Her teardrop necklace was securely in place and she had teardrop earrings to match.
Erika was swarmed by paparazzi on her way to Caesar's Palace and she did her best to smile for every camera that flashed in her face. Usually she didn't have a problem smiling for the camera, but tonight she just wanted to lay low.
Sometimes, being a Stark sucked.
"There she is," Tony's co-partner Obadiah Stane said to her once he'd caught sight of her. "Not the man of the hour, but close enough. How are you doing, kiddo?"
Erika smiled and hugged Obadiah. It was a forced smile, but a smile none the less. "I'm fine, Uncle Obie," she said. "Is the ceremony going to start soon?"
Obadiah chuckled and guided her inside. "Someone's eager to get this over with, aren't they?" he asked.
Erika shrugged and forced a smile as another camera flashed a picture of her and Obie. "You know how I feel about the company," she said through her teeth, still smiling. "This award is for creating better ways to kill people."
"Collateral damage," Obie replied through an equally strained smile.
"Whatever."
Obie patted her on the shoulder—a little harder than necessary, if she was completely honest—and then guided her inside. Once away from the cameras, she jerked out of his grip and made her own way into the assembly hall. She found a seat as far away from the older man as possible.
The presentation started.
"Tony Stark," an overheard voice started as the lights dimmed and a slideshow of Tony began. "Visionary. Genius. American Patriot."
Erika rolled her eyes—they were laying it on a little thick.
Even from an early age, the son of Legendary weapons developer Howard Stark quickly stole the spotlight with his brilliant and unique mind. At age four, he built his first circuit board. At age six, his first engine. And at seventeen, he graduated Summa Cum Laude from MIT.
The tabloids had been hoping that Erika was another Tony, another genius, ready to follow in her father's footsteps.
She definitely had a Stark mind, but Hell would freeze over before she used it for a weapons company.
Then, the passing of a titan. Howard Stark's lifelong friend and ally, Obadiah Stane, steps in to fill the gap left by the legendary founder, until, at age 21, the prodigal son returns, and is anointed the new CEO of Stark Industries. With the keys to the kingdom, Tony ushers in a new era for his father's legacy, creating smarter weapons, advanced robotics, satellite targeting. Today, Tony Stark has changed the face of the weapons industry by ensuring freedom, and protecting America and her interests around the globe."
Tony's best friend Colonel James Rhodes got up on stage and stood in front of the microphone. "As liaison to Stark Industries," he began, "I've had the unique privilege of serving with a real patriot. He is my friend and he is my great mentor. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present this year's Apogee Award to Mr. Tony Stark."
Everyone applauded and waited for Tony to get up on stage for his award.
He didn't.
"Tony?" Rhodey repeated.
'Figures,' Erika thought.
Since Tony was nowhere in sight, Obie got up and went to accept the award. He and Rhodey shook ands and Rhodey left the stage.
"This is beautiful," said Obie. "Thank you, thank you all very much. This is wonderful." He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm not Tony Stark," he said after a moment's pause.
That got a laugh out of almost everyone.
"But if I were Tony, I would tell you how honored I feel," Obie continued. "And what a joy it is to receive this very prestigious award."
Another round of applause.
"Tony, you know . . ." Obie hesitated, searching for the right words. "The best thing about Tony is also the worst thing—he's always working."
Obie finished his speech and left the stage, and after the ceremony he caught Erika on her way to go talk to Rhodey. "Erika, do you know where your father is?" he asked her while putting an arm around her, posing for a picture.
Erika's smile never left her face. "I have no idea," she said through clenched teeth. "The last time I saw him, he was headed for the casino."
Obie nodded thoughtfully. "Colonel," he addressed Rhodey, who'd wandered towards them, and handed Rhodey the award. "See if you can track Tony down, Erika thinks he might be in the casino."
"I'll go with you," Erika added as she slid out of Obie's grasp. "I've got a few things I'd like to say to Tony." She gave Rhodey a quick hug. "Hey, Uncle Rhodey," she greeted.
"Hey, kiddo," Rhodey said quietly. "Let's go have a chat with your dad—though you may want to cover your ears for the majority of it," he said, only half-kidding.
For a military man, Rhodey was alright.
The manager in front of the casino's entrance stopped them on their way in and asked to see Erika's I.D.
"She's with me," said Rhodey. "We're just looking for someone."
"I'm sorry, I can't let her in if she isn't over twenty-one," he said in a patient voice.
"Seriously?" she snorted. "You can't bend the rule, just this once?"
The manager shook his head.
'Fine, time to turn up the charm,' she thought. Erika put on her best Pouty face and said in her best Daddy's Little Girl voice, "Not even for Tony Stark's only daughter?" she pouted.
The manager relented, as Erika knew he would. "Somebody shoot me," she muttered as they swept past him. "I hate playing the Stark card."
"Well, then, thank goodness you don't have to play it that often," said Rhodey. "I thought teenage girls were supposed to be all about breaking rules—do you know how many girls would kill to be in your shoes?"
Erika grimaced at the thought of anyone touching her designer shoes (yes, she knew Rhodey's statement was a figure of speech). She admitted to having flaws, and her love of good shoes was one of them; she never could say no to a pair of Gucci heels.
Erika and Rhodey found Tony at a Roulette table surrounded by onlookers—mostly women. "Work it! Come on!" he exclaimed as he threw the dice on the table.
"You are unbelievable," said Rhodey as he stood at Tony's right. Erika stayed behind him; she'd let Rhodey say his peace, and then she'd have a go.
"Oh, no," Tony began. "Did they rope you into this?"
"Nobody roped me into anything! They told me that if I presented you with an award, you'd be deeply honored."
"Of course I'd be deeply honored," said Tony, sounding interested and not interested at the same time. "And it's you, that's great. So when do we do it?" he asked, taking a step back when Rhodey all but shoved the glass statuette in his hand. "There it is, that was easy. Wow," he glanced over his shades at the award. "Would you look at that? That's something else. I don't have any of those floating around." He handed the award absent-mindedly to a dark haired-girl with a low-cut dress, then turned his attention back to the table. "We're gonna let it ride!" He smirked at the brunette and held out the dice in his hand. "Give me a hand, will you? Give me a little something-something."
Erika frowned as the brunette blew on the dice in Tony's hand. She was all too familiar with her dad's promiscuous ways.
"Okay, you too," said Tony, holding the dice out to Rhodey—that actually made Erika snort, and it alerted Tony to her presence at the roulette table. Rhodey knocked the dice out of Tony's hand, and Tony glanced at the dice—bad roll—and then looked back at Erika. "And you're in here because . . . . ?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Erika crossed her arms. "Just wondering why the Billionaire Genius Philanthropist wasn't there to accept his award—the whole reason we had to fly to Vegas in the first place," she said in a falsely sweet tone.
"You forgot playboy," Tony said after a few seconds hesitation.
"Trust me, it's hard to forget," she bit out, glaring at the brunette holding her dad's award and giving Tony a sultry smile. "Back off," Erika snarled, grabbing the statuette out of her manicured hands and shoving it back into Tony's.
"Wow, what's got you so wound up?" Tony asked, moving away from the table after Rhodey, giving the brunette one last look. "What, did they run out of your favorite eyeliner? No more Prada?"
"Don't even joke about that," she interrupted. "The end of Prada is the end of civilization as we know it." She shook her head. "Not that you'd know, but I had a concert tonight—a concert that I had to respectfully ask our producer to postpone, because I had to fly to Vegas to watch someone get an award for making things blow up," she snapped (and, of course, Tony tuned her out).
"This is my exit," said Rhodey as they approached a man and woman dressed as Caesar and Cleopatra. He pointed at Tony. "Tomorrow, don't be late."
Tony waved him off. "Yeah, you can count on it."
"I'm serious!" Rhodey warned.
"I know, I know," he gave Rhodey another wave as the Colonel made his exit. "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's, there you go." Tony handed the award to the fake Caesar and kept walking. Erika sighed, apologized to the man, and took back Tony's award.
Out by the car they were stopped by a blonde reporter. "Mr. Stark! Excuse me, Mr. Stark!" she called after them. "Christine Everhart, Vanity Fair magazine. Can I ask you a couple of questions?"
Erika gave in to the urge to groan. They'd been so close to a clean getaway . . .
Tony looked to his driver Happy, who said "She's cute."
"She's all right?" Tony asked for confirmation, then spun around and smiled at the reporter. "Hi."
She gave an equally phony smile. "Hi."
"Yeah. Okay, go," he motioned for her to continue.
Erika watched at this reporter turned up the charm, ignoring her presence completely—and she didn't know how to feel about that. On one side, Erika was used to people ignoring her entirely in favor of her dad. On the other, it kind of sucked being treated like she wasn't even there.
"You've been called the Da Vinci of our time," Christine continued. "What do you say to that?"
"Absolutely ridiculous, I don't paint," Tony replied.
"Da Vinci was an inventor," Erika interjected, deciding to remind Ms. Everhart of her existence, whether the reporter liked it or not. "Van Gough was the painter."
Tony snapped and pointed at her. "Right, I knew that."
Erika snorted. "Riiiiight."
Christine, disliking the interruption, cleared her throat to bring the attention back to her. "And what do you say to your other nickname? "The Merchant of Death"?" she asked.
Tony and Erika spoke at the same time.
"Hate it," said Erika.
"That's not bad," said Tony. "Let me guess. Berkeley?" he continued.
"Brown, actually," Christine corrected.
"Well, Ms. Brown, it's an imperfect world, but it's the only one we've got," said Tony. "I guarantee you, the day weapons are no longer needed to keep the peace, I'll start making bricks and beams for baby hospitals."
"Rehearse that much?" said Christine in a condescending tone.
"Every night in front of the mirror before bedtime," he affirmed.
"I can see that."
"I'd like to show you first-hand," Tony offered, smirking.
Christine crossed her arms. "All I want is a serious answer."
"Okay, here's serious," Tony huffed, taking off his sunglasses. "My old man had a philosophy, "Peace means having a bigger stick than the other guy."
"That's a great line coming from the guy selling the sticks," she countered.
"My father helped defeat the Nazis. He worked on the Manhattan Project. A lot of people, including your professors at Brown, would call that being a hero," Tony ground out, clearly getting irritated.
"And a lot of people would also call that war profiteering."
"Tell me, do you plan to report on the millions we've saved by advancing medical technology, or kept from starvation with our intelli-crops? All those breakthroughs, military funding, honey."
Christine tilted her head. "You ever lose an hour of sleep your whole life?" she asked incredulously.
Tony looked her up and down. "I'd be prepared to lose a few with you."
"And that, boys and girls, is where I draw the line," Erika interjected. "I'm just gonna go ahead and get my own ride home, okay? Okay, buh-bye." She wandered off to see if Rhodey was still around. He wasn't but Obadiah was just getting ready to leave.
"Hey, Uncle Obie, can I get a ride?" Erika called, turning up the charm and giving Obie her best Tony's Dealing with a Skank and I Don't Wanna See That look.
Erika ended up not only getting a ride back to the hotel, but also getting a ride back to Malibu in Obie's own jet.
"Thanks," she called to Obie's driver as they let her off in front of her house. She went up to her room, changed out of her dress, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows.
A/N: Like I said, I have no idea when my next update will be. I'll try to get the next one up as quick as I can.
