Little Bird's Vengeance Chapter 14 Target
Tony was in shock. Except he wasn't, because he was Iron Man, and Iron Man doesn't go into shock. That's what other people do. No, he was just…startled.
He knew that he was a target. He'd seen that in Monaco, when Vanko trashed his car. He knew there were people who wanted him dead. Stane had been the most surprising example. He even knew there were times when he would be required to sacrifice his life for the 'the greater good', whatever that would turn out to be.
But somehow he wasn't expecting was to be shot at while out shopping.
Red Robin had seen it coming; pushing him back and lunging for the would-be killer. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful, or just plain unsettled by that fact. "Who are you? Why do you want to kill Stark?" the kid asked, kneeling on the woman's chest and pressing his collapsible staff to her windpipe, easing up a little as she spluttered.
"I'll tell you nothing," the woman spat scornfully.
"Wrong answer." Red produced the metal shard Tony had seen him wielding several times, and slammed it point first into the ground by her ear. "Oops. Missed," he said, completely inflection-less and unemotional. "I won't next time. You like piercings? Heard of stretchers? They make piercing holes larger, so you can put thick-rodded earrings in. How would you like to not need them?"
The woman squirmed angrily, and Red shifted his weight so his knees pinned her arms while the main part of his weight was still on her torso. In response, she swore viciously, and Red slammed the shard down again. The woman screamed, blood seeping from her ear. Tony froze for a second (he didn't think the kid would actually do it), then pushed through the dispersing crowd towards the pair. In the distance, he heard the sirens of police cars approaching.
"Want a matching pair? Why are you trying to kill Stark?" Red insisted, lifting the shard so his captive could see the blood dripping from it. She kicked her knees up, and Red twisted, shoving the metal into her thigh. He pulled another shard from his belt, and twirled it enticingly.
'What. The. HELL!' Tony screamed inside his head, not knowing what to do or say. How could a child like Red Robin be so…so…brutal? Natasha, or possibly Clint, yes, he could believe either of them using physical violence in an interrogation, but Red was such a sweet kid! Was this what he'd been alluding to, all his talk of having a target on his head for too long? That he'd become as vicious as professional assassins?
"He cost us our jobs!" the woman screamed in confession. "He took everything!"
"Who are you working for? Who with? Where are the others? What are your plans?" Red shot off the questions quickfire, touching the sharp edge of his piece of metal to the woman's face without breaking the skin
She twitched away from the shard. "Justin Hammer. We were the best, top of the game, but Stark had a grudge, and we all lose our jobs and get blacklisted. We have nothing! We will see him dead for all he's done, his infernal meddling." As she spoke of Stark, a deep note of contempt bled into her tone.
Tony was shocked; in equal parts at the kid's brutality, and the woman's confession. He'd…never considered the consequences of his takedown of Hammer on his employees. Nor, it seemed, had he put sufficient thought into what a hard and dirty interrogation actually entailed.
"What were the plans for if you failed?" Red demanded. The metal shard flicked above her face threateningly.
"Hey, kid!" Tony finally reached Red and his captive. "That's enough now."
The policemen also arrived, surrounding them. "Stand down!" one of them yelled, as they pointed their guns at Red.
Red looked up, tilting his head. His eyes were hidden from the world beneath his sunglasses, but he seemed to be glancing all around. He flicked his shard back into his belt, and slammed his prisoner's head into the ground. The policemen's guns clicked as the safety catches were disengaged and another demand for surrender was issued. The teen slowly rose, holding the staff loosely in his left hand, the right out, palm up, to show it held no weapon. But the gloves reaching halfway up his forearms ruined the look somewhat.
"Step away and drop the staff," the same cop commanded.
Tony could see a slightly pensive look crossing Red's face as he nimbly stepped away from his now-unconscious captive. In flash, he spun his staff, pressing on the ends and collapsing it. The policemen yelled, and he froze, the staff now a lightweight cudgel half a foot in length. "Listen, there are more shooters out there," he said softly. "I can deal with them, but I need you to trust me."
He seemed to be speaking to Tony and the cops in equal measure. Tony looked at the younger hero, meeting his eyes despite the sunglasses they both wore. Red appeared to be almost warning him, and deliberately looked towards an upper window nearby. Following his gaze, Tony saw the barrel of a gun protruding. The angle was wrong, but they were still in danger.
"Will you trust me?" Red whispered, locking eyes with Tony again. Tony nodded fractionally, even as the cop butted in.
"Stand down! I won't tell you again."
The kid looked back at him, a tiny smirk playing over his lips, amusement in his eyes despite the situation. "Sorry, not happening," he replied, before lunging down and sideways.
There was a loud bang, and a bright flash. Tony blinked furiously, feeling hands on his waist pushing him back towards the café as the air filled with choking smoke. The push turned to a tug, and Tony could just see the teen hero pulling him away as his eyes streamed from the acrid vapours and he started to cough.
Red pulled him into the café, scooping up his satchel as they went, and through to the kitchen and out the back, moving as fast as he possibly could. "We have to keep moving," he said in an undertone. "And get off ground level. Do you have access to your suit?"
Tony glanced down at his bare wrists. "Um, no, I left the bracelets behind," he admitted. "So…what? Should I call the Capsicle?"
"No time. We'll call for pick-up when we're in the clear. This way." Releasing him, Red led the billionaire down back alleys for a few minutes, replacing his sunglasses with his mask as they went. He came to a halt in an alleyway backing onto a noticeably smaller building. "Take this," Red instructed, handing over his grapple gun. "Remember I told you how to use it? We're going up."
"What about you? You need to hang onto me?"
He shook his head. "Not powerful enough. Go; I'll follow."
Tony paused, fingers in the trigger. Red tapped his gloves, flicking out small hooks on the outside of the wrist, then bent and flicked the toes of his boots, little spikes emerging. He jumped, digging the (climbing) hooks into the wall and jamming the (crampon) spikes into the brickwork.
"Come on," he called back. "We have to go."
Tony zipped up the roof, his shoulder twinging slightly at the effort in pulling him. "How come you're prepared for everything?" he called back.
Just under a minute later, Red reached the rooftop. "I'm only prepared for what we can predict, and what's happened before. Remember that. Pretty much every precaution you'll see me use is to stop something happening again."
"Um, right." Whatever the kid was trying to explain, it wasn't sinking in, and with shooters on their tail, it wasn't the time to ask for elaboration. "Which way?"
Red hit the large button on his wing harness, the feather strips spooling out of the mechanism and flowing down his back once more. "They'll expect us to run for the Tower. If we head the other way, we'll probably lose some of them."
"Sure. How?"
"Pretend to be a pendulum."
Red Robin jumped, using his climbing hooks to pull himself up to a taller building, and Tony followed with the grapple. It was a lot more effort than flying, pulling on his shoulder joints with each swing. He could see Red's muscles tensing and flowing with each move he made, but despite the extra effort he was expending, he move swiftly and easily. When they were both on the next building, Red nodded tersely and jumped off the edge, flaring his wings out until he hit the side and dug his hooks in. Tony swung after him, crashing inelegantly and having to retract the cord, wincing. Several buildings later, he started to get the hang of it. As they kept going, from building to building, across streets and alleyways, Tony felt a slight thrill.
A thrill quickly squashed, when he glanced back and glimpsed another gun barrel, trying to get a bead on them.
AN: Excitement! Will they get away, or will they be shot? Well, I suppose it's not terribly difficult to guess. But has Cap done anything about Tony running off with Tim? Find out; in two weeks.
Red and Black update alert; if you come here next week, you'll be a little disappointed.
I'd also like to thank all you reviewers, whether you're saying nice things (it's very encouraging) or offering constructive criticism (it's very useful). I'd like to make a special mention for Luzith. I don't think you noticed, my friend, but you wrote "assignation attempts", instead of "assassination attempts". Yeah, I know, quick typo, but...I've always thought of the word "assignation" as pertaining to seduction. You made me laugh. Thank you very much.
Be back in a fortnight.
Katara