March, 1998; The Bronx…

Tony walked through the front door, shaking the rainwater out of his hair. "Hey, Ma," he called. "I'm home." He shed his soaked jacket and placed it on a hook.

There was no answer, but he didn't worry. Taking his shoes off, he stepped into the living room. Everything had been turned off except the tv, and his mother lay stretched out on the couch. Her feet bare, she still wore the clothes she wore as a night janitor at a local elementary school. She smelled of disinfectant and soap. Tony figured she'd had just enough energy to take off her shoes and fall asleep in front of the tv.

He knelt beside her and kissed her forehead. She stirred, and he said, "Morning, Ma."

She looked up at him, blinked, then looked over at the clock. "Wha…it's morning? Were you out all night?"

"Yeah. And it wasn't time wasted." He held up a wad of bills in his hand.

"Oh my. How much is that?"

"Almost 200 bucks!" he replied with a smile. Entering the kitchen, he put the money in an open jar on the counter. "I gotta tell you, Ma, renting those tapes of Houdini and Copperfield was just the thing I needed."

"Well, I hope you're not doing anything dangerous," she called from the living room.

"No, no, just tricks and illusions. Shell game, card tricks, walking through glass, that kinda stuff. Let me tell ya, people love it. This should cover rent for a little bit."

"Oh, you're so good to me, baby."

"Hey, you were good to me first. I'm just trying to pay you back." Stomach growling, he grabbed a couple pickles from the fridge, then made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Taking a bite out of each, he sat down on the couch beside his mother. "What are you watching, anyway?"

"Hm? Oh, it's this great special they put on about Stark Industries. That Tony Stark is shaping up to be a real genius. Do you remember when his parents died in that car crash? That was awful."

Chewing a piece of pickle, Tony shook his head. "Why do you gotta watch this stuff, Ma? Tony Stark doesn't give two shits about people like us."

"Watch your language, young man!"

"Sorry."

"Tony Stark is a great man. He's a genius just like his father was, and one day he'll change the world. You'd be lucky to work for him."

After swallowing the last of his sandwich, Tony said, "Ha! People like Tony Stark only care about one thing: themselves. And besides, his company makes weapons for the military. The only people who profit are him and the government. They don't care about us. We build their tanks and pave their roads and fight their wars for them. I'd rather make an honest living than help someone like him make more millions."

They sat together for a few more minutes watching an episode of Home Improvement, laughing at Tim Allen's antics with a souped-up lawnmower. Tony noticed his mother starting to nod off after a bit, and he checked his watch.

"Well, you've still got a few hours before your shift at the diner. Why don't you go lay down? I gotta get to work anyway."

"Okay," she said, likely not having any energy to argue the point.

He helped her up the stairs and, after tucking her under the sheets, kissed her on the forehead and said, "I'll see you later."

"Be safe out there. I love you, baby."

"I love you, too, Ma," he called on his way out.

He'd gotten a job working at a deli to help with the bills. It paid a decent wage, but not the amounts he would like. Money truly was the thing that made the world go round; the only problem was never having enough. His shifts were unpredictable enough for him to use it as a cover so his mother wouldn't have to worry. If she knew what he really did at night, she'd have a heart attack. After finishing his shift sweeping floors and stocking shelves, he walked over to do his real job.

Lou's Garage was a well-known chop shop, stripping stolen vehicles for parts and equipping others with plates and VIN numbers. All for a proper price, of course. It also served as a meeting place for Tony and his new friends. They stood in the garage, about a dozen in total, waiting for their instructions.

"Hey," a blonde kid named Ricky said as he bumped Tony's shoulder, "you think we'll finally get to see what this guy looks like?"

Tony shook his head. "No, man. Of course not. It's gonna be his little mouthpiece, just like every other time."

"You think this guy even exists?"

"I heard he's ugly as a fish, and doesn't wanna show up in public," another guy said, lit cigarette in hand.

Tony smirked. "Yeah? Then why the hell do you show up in public?"

The others laughed. Then, the door opened and, just like he'd predicted, their employer's 'representative' stepped inside. The man looked overdressed for the occasion in his fine suit and expensive haircut, and didn't look that much older than the rest of them. Others might have labeled him a rich dandy not worth listening to, but Tony spotted the bulge of a gun at his beltline. He carried himself like a man who could and would murder someone without batting an eye. This guy –William, Wesley, or whatever– was more dangerous than he looked.

"Gentlemen," he greeted in a smooth, deadpan voice. "It looks like the White Snakes are trying to move into our territory. Your employer wants to send them a message."

"Hey," Ricky said, eliciting an annoyed look from Wesley. "When the hell are we gonna meet this 'employer', anyway? If I'm working for someone, I need to see him. Last thing I want is to get screwed over by some kind of scam."

"You don't need to see him. And you never will," Wesley explained, sounding like a schoolteacher scolding a toddler. "That's how this works. You bunch are important to maintaining order in the streets, but make no mistake: you're one cog of many. Your employer is building something special, something that will save this city. Do the job, get paid. It's quite simple."

"Okay…So what's this guy's name?" Ricky asked.

"We don't. Say. His name."

Tony shared a look with some of the others. The warning was plain: utter his name, and there'd be consequences. Shrugging, he said, "Okay, clear enough. So what do you want us to do?"

"Patrol the streets like usual. If you see any members of the White Snakes, make it clear they aren't welcome in our territory."

One of the others cautiously raised a hand. "Like…permanently?"

"While that is usually an option, your employer's left specific instruction. Do anything short of killing them. Come back here at the end of the night for your payments." He gave each of them a firm stare, which Tony and the others understood to be the end of the conversation. They filed out of the garage, separating to head to their usual routes.

Tony paired up with Ricky, since they both covered the same block. It was a quiet night. Well, quiet for New York, anyway. They walked for at least half an hour, swapping jokes and idly kicking rocks without seeing anything out of the ordinary.

Then, they spotted fresh meat.

Down the street, a portly Latino dressed in an oversized tracksuit stood on a street corner, under the glow of a street light. He handed a small plastic bag of something to a skinny man in jeans and a torn muscle shirt. The skinny man traded a wad of cash for the bag.

Tony ground his teeth at the sight. There were few things he truly hated in life. After all, he was more comfortable with 'morally flexible' actions than most. You had to pay the bills and support your family somehow. One thing he hated were people like Tony Stark, the filthy rich who had everything while people like him and his mother were left in the gutter. He also hated anyone who preyed on kids. That particular kind of scum deserved to suffer and die.

And he especially hated drug peddlers bringing their poison to his streets.

Tony touched Ricky's shoulder. "Head across the street, then come at him from the side. He won't have anywhere to run."

"Got it." Ricky crossed the street, hands in his jacket pockets while trying to look casual and not draw attention.

The skinny man walked off, leaving the Latino standing with a satisfied smile on his plump face. Wiping away that smile would feel good. As Tony walked towards him, he spotted the tattoo on the guy's neck. A white snake biting its tail. The logo of their employer's competitor.

The Latino saw approach and held his arms out wide. "What's happening, my man?"

Tony stopped several feet away from him. "What's happening is you're gonna get your fat ass out of my neighbourhood and never come back."

The Latino's smile faltered. He turned, only to see Ricky coming at him from the other side. Nowhere to run. "Okay," he said. "Okay. It's like that? Huh? Well try this on for size, motherfucker!" He drew a pistol from his pants, aiming it at Tony. "Take one more step, and I'll blow your ass away right now!" He turned around again and again, trying to keep his eyes on both Tony and Ricky.

When he turned to look at Ricky, Tony crouched and grabbed a loose rock. The Latino turned towards him, and he hurled the rock with blinding speed and power. It hit the man's hand with perfect accuracy, causing him to drop the gun. Tony and Ricky rushed him before he could pick it up again, shoving him onto the ground.

Tony grabbed his arm and –having watched an MMA marathon the week before– knew how to apply proper pressure and technique. He broke the arm with little difficulty, doing his best to ignore the sickening crunch. The Latino cried and whimpered, and Ricky drove the point home by kicking him in the side over and over until he could barely breathe.

"Now you listen to me," Tony said, jabbing a finger into the man's chest. "Tell your boys that this block is off-limits. Keep your drugs out of this neighbourhood and the rest of our turf. If we catch any of you back here, then we'll send you back in little pieces! You got me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you."

"Good. Now get the hell outta here."

The Latino, still whimpering, cradled his broken arm and got to his feet. His wheezing breaths suggested a few cracked ribs as he pitifully ran away. Ricky laughed watching him go, then turned to look at Tony. "That was sweet, man. Hey, where'd you learn to pitch like that? I never knew you played baseball."

Tony shrugged. "Saw it on tv."

Being a low-level gangbanger paid the bills for a time. It also gave Tony the chance to use more and more of the skills he learned. But after a few months, he realized he needed something different. Something that wouldn't end him up in the hospital or in jail. He wanted to actually spend the money he collected, alive and free. The only problem was a kid born in the Bronx had little in the way of prospects. Decent-paying ones, at least. Any college would be too expensive. So, he resorted to the one option that he felt best suited him and his 'unique' talents.

He joined the army.

It drove his mother up the wall with worry, but Tony managed to convince her it would be a good thing. With his photographic reflexes, he'd be the greatest soldier since GI Joe. And, like always, they needed the money. So, after a great deal of convincing, he managed to win her over. Not long after, he left home.

September, 2001; Fort Campbell, Kentucky…

People noticed his talents from the word 'go', and he outperformed nearly everyone he competed with. By the time they assigned him to Fort Cambell, he wasn't a scrappy kid from the ass of New York anymore. He wore a Green Beret, and people referred to him as Specialist Anthony Masters of the 5th Special Forces Group. Tony was finally going places. Those first few years in the army were good, but he found the rigid structure a bit stifling.

One day, he found himself strolling through the base. It was a quiet, normal day, and he'd finally gotten a minute of free time. There was only one way he wanted to spend it.

Arriving at the storage room, he took a deep breath then entered. Inside, reviewing the inventory, was Sergeant Maria Hill. She kept her raven hair regulation short, which only highlighted her beautiful features. They hardly interacted on base, since she was attached to the 101st Division. She also excelled in command and logistics, backed by several university degrees. Tony knew full well he was destined for the hands-on approach, his education being far less impressive than hers.

"Sergeant," he greeted, clasping his hands behind his back as he stood beside her.

Without looking away from her clipboard, she asked, "What can I do for you, Specialist?"

He kept his gaze fixed on the wall, maintaining a stoic calm. "It has recently come to my attention that I have been neglecting certain duties."

Maria finally looked over at him. "Is that so?" she asked, her tone cold and no-nonsense.

"It is. Tardiness is an unacceptable excuse, so all I can do is submit myself for summary discipline."

Maria put the clipboard down, regarding him fully. "Go on."

"I humbly request permission to rectify this situation to the best of my ability."

"Exactly how much time would you need for that?" she asked, the corner of her lip quirking. For all her stone-cold behaviour, she enjoyed this, and it showed.

Tony looked her right in the eye. "How much time do you have?"

The next thing he knew, they barely had time to lock the door before they tore each other's clothes off. It had been weeks since they had time alone together, and neither of them wanted to waste it. Tony drank in Maria's scent, relishing the smoothness of her skin on his fingers. She playfully bit one of his ears as they embraced each other, and he kissed her neck just the way she loved. For those precious few minutes, they were the only two people in the world.

Afterwards, they sat staring into each other's eyes, smiling in the afterglow of a beautiful moment. Tony took her hand in his, kissing her palm and each of her fingers. He turned it over, running a thumb over the ring on her finger. The nicest one he could find in his price range. He'd wanted to get her the biggest diamond the shop had. If he just had more cash on hand, he could shower her with all the jewelry she could ever want. "Y'know, there's a part of me that doesn't believe you actually said 'yes'."

She regarded the ring for a moment. "Me, too. If it makes you feel better, I'm just using you for the sex."

He smirked. "Actually, that kind of does make me feel better."

"Have you told your mother yet?"

"I figured I'd wait until I get some leave."

Maria gave him a reproachful look. "Tony, we've been engaged for almost a month. You need to tell her."

"And I will. I just think this sort of thing should be done face to face. If I tell her over the phone, it's just so…impersonal. Besides, she'd be all in your face with questions about your family and your favourite sports teams and when the wedding's gonna be and how we're gonna plan it. I'm sparing you from all that."

She arched an eyebrow. "Mhm."

He started laughing. "I just want you to remember this moment, because you'll think to yourself 'my God in heaven, Tony was right!'"

"Okay, superstar. You'd better get going, I still have to finish this inventory."

They stood and headed for the door. As soon as Tony opened it, he noticed quite a bit more activity than when he'd entered. People were running across the hall in a hurry, and something made their conversations animated. "What's this all about?" he asked.

Maria caught the eye of a passing private. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Something's happening in New York. People are talking about a plane crash!"

Tony felt his guts churn and his heart catch in his throat. He shared a glance with Maria, who looked as troubled as he felt. Wasting no more time, they ran to join everyone else as people gathered around the nearest tv set. Pushing their way through to the front of the group, they laid eyes on what really happened.

"Jesus Christ," Tony whispered. Maria held his hand, not saying a word.

Princeton University…

"Mom, he is not my boyfriend," Ellen protested over the phone. She sat at the small desk in her dorm room, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.

"You've gone on dates, right?"

She sighed. "Two. Three, if you count coffee after class." They'd been on this topic for almost fifteen minutes. Why did mothers have to be so invested in their children's romantic lives? Was it some sick tradition going back to colonial days? Their first phone call since Ellen left for college, and already she wanted to crawl into a pit and never see daylight.

"Coffee sounds nice," her mother said. Ellen could picture the smile on her face. "You know, your father and I used to take long walks in Central Park when we first started dating. Sometimes, we'd have picnics late into the night, stare up at the stars, and—"

"Mom, mom! Please, don't!" Ellen said, desperately trying to prevent even more trauma from cluttering her brain. "I don't need that visual."

She laughed. "Okay, honey. I won't burden you with details. How are you liking it over there?"

Finally, something normal. "It's actually pretty great here. Classes are interesting, if a bit tedious, and so far everyone I meet seems nice. I found a martial arts school nearby, and I've started learning Judo, which has been amazing so far."

"Is that the one with the techniques named after animals? Tiger, Crane, and such?"

Ellen rolled her eyes. "No, mom. I'm pretty sure that's Kung Fu. At some point, I think I might pick that up."

"I thought you were progressing well with Taekwondo?"

"I am. I just thought learning another style would be beneficial. I can't really put it into words, but it gives me…I don't know, fulfillment? I seem to have a knack for it, since all my teachers say I'm a natural. Dr. Carter seems to think it's good for me. She said 'It's important for you to channel your energy into something productive'. And I guess spending my free time roughing up sparring partners on a mat is more productive than locking myself in my room and feeling sorry for myself."

Ellen ran a thumb over her sleeve. The scars on her wrists had faded these past few years, but were still visible. They always would be, a reminder of a darker time in her life. As a result, she'd taken to wearing long-sleeved shirts. People questioned it, especially in warmer weather or in locales like the beach, but she never felt inclined to give an explanation. For obvious reasons.

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying it so much. Do you have many friends?"

Ellen absently twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger. "Um, a few. My roommate is nice. But she does make fun of my poster." She rotated her chair to look at the large poster on the wall by the foot of her bed. It depicted Captain America, shield on his arm, leaping towards the sky heroically against the backdrop of sunset mountains.

"I remember when you bought that in the gift shop," her mother said. "Our first visit to the Smithsonian exhibit. You were so excited to bring it home."

"My roommate thinks I've got a crush on Captain America."

"I do seem to recall you staring at it an awful lot over the years…"

Ellen groaned, leaning all the way back in her chair. "Mooom," she said, stretching the middle syllable.

She laughed over the phone. "Did you see the pictures your aunt emailed of Cousin Cassie?"

"Yes. Oh my God, she is so cute!" Ellen's cousin turned six the week before, and had apparently spent the whole day flapping her arms wanting to fly like a bird. "I could just eat her up."

"She reminds me of when you were that age. Every day for a year, you demanded second breakfast and pipe weed like a Hobbit." Ellen pressed the phone to her shoulder and laughed at how ridiculous her younger self had been. She put it back to her ear, and her mother said, "Oh, that reminds me: are you coming home for Thanksgiving?"

"Yeah, definitely. You know I wouldn't miss it."

"Perfect. What's that?" She said something else, but muffled. Someone else must have been speaking with her. A moment later, she said, "Oh, sometimes it feels like I'm barely keeping my head above water with work these days."

Ellen glanced at the calendar on the wall. "How is Grampa Walter doing?" He'd been in the hospital for months, seeing every doctor and specialist money could buy. And he had a shitload of money.

This time, her mother sounded tired. "About as well as expected. His doctors tell me it could be any week now. I've been meeting with lawyers near-constantly ever since he was first admitted to long-term care. This isn't exactly how I intended to take over the firm."

"Well, hang in there. If anyone can handle this, you can. It's just like you taught me: manage your expectations, and take joy in the simple things. No problem is too big to solve with patience and perseverance."

"When did you get to be so wise?"

Ellen smiled. "I had some pretty great teachers. Hey, next time you talk to dad, could you get him to–"

"What is that?" her mother asked, cutting her off. Ellen could hear voices in the background. "Is that a…plane?"

"Mom? What's wrong?"

"Oh God, it's coming right…" her voice devolved into static, and the call ended a second later.

Ellen straightened in her chair, alarms ringing in her head. Something had to be wrong for the call to drop the way it did. Maybe it was a bad connection, she guessed. Maybe she hung up by mistake. And what was that about a plane? She tried to redial, but it went straight to voicemail. She tried three more times, but all with the same result.

The door swung open, and Cindy, her roommate, stuck her head in, lips pressed tight and eyes wide. "Come out here; you need to see this."

"Hang on, I was just on a call."

"Now!"

Something in her voice made Ellen put the phone down. She followed her out into the hall, and they practically ran to the nearest television. An ever-growing crowd gathered around it, their eyes fixed. No one spoke, as if uttering a single word would make the sky fall. Ellen gently pushed her way to the front, and what she saw chilled her to the bone.

"…to show you some pictures at the foot of New York City. This is the World Trade Center. Obviously a major fire there, and there has been some sort of explosion. We don't have…" The footage showed one of the towers, smoke belching out of gaping holes near the top.

Ellen gasped and put a hand to her mouth as she watched the unfolding report. Her eyes grew wet with tears, and all she could do was whisper, "Mom!"

Bit of a darker chapter, considering the subject matter at hand. Sorry. For some reason, my brain just gravitates to heavier themes and moments like this.

Also, Happy New Year!

May your year be filled with joyous moments and much love to you and your happy, healthy families.