Thank you for 300 reviews! Congrats to Sadie Kane, the lucky 300th reviewer :)
May 4, 2010
Los Angeles, California
"Thank you for joining me today Ms Stark, I know you have a very busy schedule."
Maggie smiled and shook hands with Rett Booker, the anchor for WHiH Tech News. He had a wide, white smile and a firm handshake. "It's my pleasure, Rett."
"Please, take a seat."
Maggie sat down on one of the dark leather couches in the tastefully appointed interview studio, smoothing down her cream suit. It wasn't her top choice for an outfit, since she'd been terrified all morning that she'd smudge her red lipstick on it somehow, but Pepper had helped her pick out an outfit for each interview she had to do this month, and said that this one was perfect.
She lifted her gaze, eyeing the interview studio. It was done up to look like a studio apartment in LA, but it felt very artificial - the lighting system surrounding the pair of couches was industrial, with a whole camera array facing them, and the plants were fake. The room felt eerily muted and quiet due to the soundproofing in the walls.
Rett took a seat on the other leather couch, still smiling. He leaned over to her as the camera and sound operators adjusted their settings. "I know you've done a dozen of these already, but we're just going to start off with the basic questions to make sure we're all okay with sound and lighting, and then we'll get stuck in."
Maggie smiled and nodded. The SI press team had already pre-approved all of WHiH's questions, so she knew what was coming.
The producer, a man in a silvery grey suit, nodded from behind the main camera.
"Alright," Rett said, turning his smile on Maggie again. He crossed one leg over the other. "Please, tell us a little about who you are and what brings you into the studio today."
"I'm Maggie Stark, and I'm here to talk about the upcoming Stark Expo in New York."
"Fabulous! And I understand it's not long until the Expo kicks off - just three days now, right?"
"That's right, the opening ceremony is on May 7th," she nodded. "I'm afraid all the tickets to the opening ceremony are already sold out," she said with a small smile. "But you can watch it live on the Stark Industries website, and there's plenty of tickets for exhibitions throughout the year."
Rett nodded. "Tell us a little about the history of the Stark Expo. The last one was a whopping thirty six years ago - why bring it back now?"
Maggie clasped her hands in her lap. "Well my brother might not take kindly to you calling it a whopping thirty six years," she smirked, "given that he was around for that one."
Rett laughed, and she pressed on. "The first expo of its kind was in 1941, though it was then called the World Expo. Stark Industries was a young company then, and my - Howard Stark wanted to showcase Stark inventions. A young Steve Rogers - Captain America - attended that expo, though no one knew his name at the time. After the war, Dad reinvented the event as the Stark Expo, in 1954, and brought it back every few years until 1974."
She shifted in her seat. "And late last year, in the company reshuffle, Tony and I were looking back and realized that the Stark Expo was a way to embody the spirit of better living through technology - a way to celebrate innovation, and bring light to the great thinkers of today and tomorrow. Plus, I never got to go to a Stark Expo. I want my turn," she smiled. She reached for a glass of water and took a sip. She'd practice that little spiel.
"You mention the company reshuffle," Rett said, and Maggie practically felt herself swell with pride. "It's been a busy six months for you, hasn't it?"
"Indeed it has," she smiled. Rett didn't know the half of it.
The world had changed the day Tony had said I am Iron Man. He had gone on a peace-making crusade, and it had worked. His main target was the Ten Rings, but he'd brought about a period of relative peace across the world. He hadn't stopped the very existence of war, but he'd stabilised the shaky east-west relations, tracked down and destroyed all the remnants of Stark Industries's lost weapons, and outside of the suit had championed peacemaking efforts and philanthropy across the globe.
If you'd told Maggie last year that her brother would be named the TIME Person of the Year, she'd have laughed. This year, she had the Iron Man TIME cover framed in her living room.
Tony had been busy with missions and the company and the Stark Expo. And Maggie had stayed.
She'd been living at home in her apartment in LA since Tony became Iron Man. She'd been hired on as a consultant at Stark Industries, and had been helping Tony redesign the company to one that manufactured technology that improved lives, rather than tear them apart: they'd redeveloped the medical technology division, delved into flight technology, opened up a line of personal devices including the new Stark Phone, and they were currently working on a sustainable energy drive. The Stark Expo was a way to showcase this new path for the company, as well as hunt out new talent and ideas.
Maggie liked working for SI, but she'd purposefully turned down any offers of an executive position. The term consultant was just shadowy enough that she could sit in on meetings and tinker in the engineering wing, but also have the freedom to step away when she needed it.
Because while Stark Industries and Iron Man were growing in significance, so was the Wyvern. Not in the same way, of course; hers was not a household name. But in the shadow world of secrets and lies, the Wyvern had become a force to be reckoned with.
Maggie didn't need to move around the world any more. She selected her missions based on her own intelligence work, and from offers by intelligence agencies and private individuals the world around. She went after shadows and ghosts, able to find the unfindable.
Iron Man had become an icon - he did the loud work, the work that drew eyes and sent messages. Maggie had learned that she could work in the shadows, sifting through the debris of what Iron Man left behind, picking off escapees and gathering whispers.
Now that the Ten Rings had been all but eliminated, Maggie had turned back to her hunt for the Winter Soldier. Because no matter how cold the trail got, she would always return to it. She'd picked up on leads for a few other crimes she was sure the Soldier had committed, and had even spoken to a few witnesses. She dug deep into the KGB and their offshoots, searching. But whenever she thought she was getting close, the Soldier just disappeared.
She'd developed a theory. The Winter Soldier's crimes appeared to stretch back decades, so she had guessed that perhaps Winter Soldier was a title, a mantle to be inherited: one soldier teaching the next, and then the next. Her Soldier might still be around, but even if he wasn't, she would find the current one and track down his master.
"Yes, it must be a busy time," Rett said, drawing her mind back to the leather couches and bright artificial lights of the interview studio. "The Stark Expo, completely reshaping the structure of Stark Industries, a superhero brother. How do you find time for a personal life?"
Maggie smiled. "It's funny, no one ever asks my brother that." She cocked her head. "Though I suppose he does tend to make his personal life very public." She shook her head. "I manage. At the moment, I'm even having to turn down professional commitments I'd very much like to take."
Just last week Jane Foster had emailed, inviting Maggie to visit her research facility in the New Mexico desert. It sounded fascinating: she was researching Einstein Rosen Bridges, and had managed to secure funding for a facility, equipment, and a research assistant. But Maggie had had to turn her down. Things are really busy with the Expo at the moment, she'd written back, but hopefully if you're still out there in a month or so I can visit. Also let me know if you'd like an exhibition slot at the Expo!
"And what's it like being Iron Man's sister?" Rett questioned, leaning forward a little in his seat.
There it is. The question she'd been asked probably a thousand times since Tony's press conference. The question everyone from little kids to old folks couldn't help but ask her.
She didn't mind it really - she'd pushed herself into the shadows for a reason, made herself as unremarkable as possible to be able to do her job. To the public Maggie was the second Stark sibling, who lived full time in LA (with the occasional few-day absence), working at Stark Industries with her superhero brother.
And Iron Man was… something that no one had ever seen before. Maggie understood the fascination, the fame. People wanted her reaction. If people's questions made her feel a little bit like the fourth Jonas brother, then that was something she had to deal with.
"Always an adventure," she went with, smiling.
But Rett wasn't satisfied. "Oh come on," he said, his eyes glinting. "You've been by Mr Stark's side ever since he returned from Afghanistan, and it's clear to see you're close. It's pretty publicly known that you helped him build the armor in the first place." He raised an eyebrow at her. "But you've not said much about Iron Man in the press. I know you generally prefer to let your brother speak about Iron Man, but can I get an honest reaction from you?"
Maggie arched an eyebrow. This wasn't on the list of questions. She thought about just saying no, but then sighed. "I don't love that my brother puts himself in harm's way," she said evenly. "But I understand why he does it. He has the ability to help people in a way that no one has before, so he does it. I couldn't be prouder of him. And really, if he's going to go out into the world and beat up bad guys, I'm glad he's in that suit." She cocked her head. "Though I think the red and gold is a bit much."
Rett laughed. "And what do you have to say about those in government - and the public - who support military control of the Iron Man armor?"
Maggie didn't let her pleasant smile drop. "I'd ask them to carefully consider what happened the last time Stark Industries gave weapons to the Armed Forces, and compare that to the state of the world now that Iron Man works alone." She met Rett's eyes. Move it along, buddy.
He took the hint. "So, you and Tony must be excited for the start of the Expo."
She smiled. "Oh, absolutely. We've been working at it so long that it's hard to believe it's almost about to start."
At least, Maggie thought they were excited. A couple of months ago, something had put a halter on Tony's enthusiasm. She couldn't put a finger on it, since he still went out on missions and worked hard at SI, being his usual charming self. But when the cameras turned off and the door closed on the public, the glint went out of his eyes. He'd become more subdued, holing himself up in his workshop without Maggie. She wondered sometimes if Iron Man weighed heavy on him. It was hard to tell. She thought he loved the armor, loved flying out to help people.
Still, Tony was entitled to his secrets. Heaven knew Maggie had her own.
"So please," Rett smiled, "talk us through the schedule for the Expo." He handed over the glossy brochure that had been on the arm of his chair. But when Maggie reached over to take the program from him, her ribs shrieked in protest and she let out a visible wince.
"Are you alright?" Rett asked, hand outstretched.
"I'm fine," Maggie smiled tightly. "Just didn't do my stretches this morning." She took the brochure and settled back in her seat, subtly touching her hand to her side. That sparked another flare of pain, bringing her back to a dark, smoggy night in Singapore two weeks ago.
Maggie had been surveilling a target: a high-profile international banker, with ties to some shady underworld moneylending. For Maggie, it was a relatively low-stakes mission. Just observation, nothing more.
But then, as she'd been peering through a pair of binoculars at the dark-haired banker as he sipped cognac on his leather couch, the man jerked. The cognac tumbled from his fingers. Maggie had stared at the burst of amber liquid when it hit the floor, then dragged her gaze back up to the banker. He was already dead: two blooms of scarlet blood seeping into his silk shirt.
Maggie had almost expected herself to freeze up. But instead she'd whirled, pulling on her red goggles and scanning the surrounding buildings for activity. When she spotted someone fleeing down a fire exit four blocks away she surged into the air, engines whining and her skin prickling.
She'd chased the shooter for two more blocks. He stuck to rooftops, running faster than Maggie thought possible and keeping just out of sight. He was an oil-slick shadow, slipping through the city like he might just fade into it.
Then she'd zipped around a skyscraper to cut the man off. And she'd seen the arm.
It gleamed in the moonlight like liquid mercury. The man shifted, his own concealed face lifting to look at the Wyvern, and she spotted red star gleaming on his metal shoulder. Maggie had stalled in midair, all thoughts of pursuit and capture flying from her head.
She was five years old, and her parents were dead in a burning car. She was being dragged over a road, tears clogging her vision and a vice-like grip around her arm.
You are my mission.
Then a crack split the frozen night air and Maggie was only saved by the irregular movement of her beating wings, the Soldier's bullet whistling inches away from her head. She dove, flailing, and as the Soldier lifted his rifle again she became the prey.
She flailed, trying to rally her thoughts and her wings while not getting shot. He was right there, dodging across the dark rooftop: dressed head to toe in black, with a mask covering the lower half of his face and dark goggles over his eyes. If it weren't for the gleam of the metal arm he'd hardly be visible. I wasn't even looking for him, Maggie thought numbly. I'm not ready.
But then her thoughts crystallized: you are my mission. She swerved neatly around a volley of bullets and turned burning red eyes on the Winter Soldier. Zimniy Soldat, the one she'd been hunting for for twenty years. He knelt on the rooftop, real flesh and bone, shooting at her. My mission.
Her wings arced and she held her body still, ready to dive into an attack.
The Soldier must have sensed her focus shift, because in the next second he dropped his rifle and turned to sprint away. Maggie plunged after him, wind shrieking in her ears, but it was a feint - as the Soldier jumped from one rooftop to the next he tossed something behind him. Maggie saw it but didn't try to turn until too late. The explosive device went off with a blast that scorched the night and seemed to suck all the air from Maggie's lungs. It knocked her sideways, head over heels until she landed with a crash on her side on a metal fire escape on the side of a building. She felt the pop of two of her ribs breaking.
She'd still struggled back into the air a few moments later, gasping at the pain, but it was too late. The Winter Soldier had escaped.
Maggie dragged herself back from the bitter memory to find herself talking robotically through the Expo program - she knew it like the back of her hand by now. Her ribs still ached, but worse was the pain that licked at her heart and up her throat, like being burned alive from the inside. The pain of failure.
She knew she was lucky to have survived a second encounter with the Winter Soldier - probably because this time, he hadn't been sent to kill her. They had surprised each other. But she knew she would have to be very, very lucky to find the Soldier again. Already he had become a ghost again, leaving no trace on the world for her to track him by.
Swallowing down the hot feeling, Maggie tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice as she talked through the exhibitions she had helped design: the medical science month, with a whole weekend for prosthetics, the flight technology exhibitions, and the monthly evenings for Youth Science with contributions by children.
She tried not to think about the Winter Soldier again for the rest of the interview. But it seemed he always lurked at the back of her mind these days: not the image of him gripping her arm after the car crash, but this time of him standing on a rooftop, lifting his shadowed face to look up at her, the red star burning on his arm like a promise.
Maggie drove herself back home from the interview, troubled and weary. A florist delivery van was waiting for her on her street. The delivery man grinned at her and handed over an enormous bouquet of red roses wrapped in gold tissue paper. The garish combination of colours could mean only one thing, and sure enough when Maggie checked the card attached, it read: Is this a bit much?
Of course he's already seen the interview footage, Maggie sighed. She let herself into her apartment and pulled out her phone to text Tony:
Ha, ha.
He replied: coming over for dinner? Pepper's ordering Thai, and probably going to make me work.
Maggie kicked off her heeled shoes. Got plans, sorry. See you at work on Monday.
She changed into more casual clothes, checked the time, then grabbed her go bag and headed for the door again. She had a mission to get to.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, New York City
"Agent Barton, walk with me."
Clint Barton looked up, spotted Agent Phil Coulson walking down an adjoining corridor, then nodded and followed. Coulson was in his standard suit, and Barton wore the dark tactical suit he favored. "Sir," he acknowledged.
Coulson shot him a polite smile. "Normally I'd schedule this, but things are getting busy and I have to head to the Triskelion. I thought we'd do your weekly mission briefing now."
"Right," Barton nodded. "I don't have my notes on me-"
"That's alright, just let me know your progress."
"Well to be completely honest, sir, there's not been a lot of progress," Barton said wryly. Their footsteps seemed loud on the well-polished floors of the base. "So far I'm still just going through all the available intel, but it's difficult to uncover any actionable leads."
This had been how most of his briefings had gone since Clint was put on the Wyvern case a couple of months ago. In March the Wyvern, the shadowy, tech-enhanced bounty hunter, had brought down a whole human trafficking ring in Serbia on their own. SHIELD had been aware of the Wyvern for some time now, but this action had put them on SHIELD's Identify and Contact list, and Clint had been assigned to the case. Once he did the Identify and Contact part, it would be up to SHIELD to decide if the Wyvern was someone they wanted to hire, or someone they wanted to stop. The last one of these he'd been assigned to had been Natasha, and he'd gone against SHIELD's directive. Coulson hoped this mission would be a bit simpler.
Though it was not shaping up that way.
"Has the Wyvern been active since your last briefing?" Coulson asked.
"Not that I can tell. And I still can't isolate a base location for them. The intelligence they send out gets sent to whichever agency is in the best position to act on it, and they're taking missions all over the world - there's no pattern to it that I can see. I don't know how they found out about SHIELD either." SHIELD didn't put out bounties, but a few months ago the Wyvern had begun sending them intelligence from time to time.
Clint ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. "I think I do have a few leads on potential targets of the Wyvern's, though. So I'm going to follow that up, see if anything sticks."
"Well, keep at it," Coulson sighed. "Whoever it is, they can't stay hidden forever."
Clint nodded. "Are you putting Nat back in the field yet?"
"She's got her mission," Coulson said with a smile. "Fury's running point on that one and they're still keeping their distance for now, but I think he's putting her into play soon."
May 5, 2009
Gibraltar
In the thick forest that clung to the side of the Rock of Gibraltar, Maggie pulled on her gear for her mission.
A few weeks ago, she'd had a run-in with an international crime syndicate that she later learned made its money through synthetic drugs and money laundering. What was worse, she had recently learned that they tested their drugs in poor communities in regions where no one would protect them. She hadn't figured out who the leader was yet, but she'd learned of a factory of theirs in Gibraltar. So here she was.
Maggie pulled on her sturdy armored flight suit: she'd developed a lightweight kevlar weave for the suit, a dark slate grey with burgundy panels. The suit would protect against knives and glancing bullets, and stretched from her neck to her ankles. With her flight boots, clawed gloves and the cowl and goggles, it felt like a second skin.
The suit fit tightly - she'd been training every chance she got, in martial arts, agility, marksmanship and flying, and she'd built up some muscle.
Maggie reached her hand around to her back, checking that the two holes cut in the back of her flight suit were clear. Her fingers slipped past the fabric and found metal.
In January, Maggie had undergone private surgery. She supposed that some people might call what she'd done a monstrous, horrific thing. It had certainly been an extreme form of body modification. But to her, it had felt more like… becoming the person she was supposed to be.
As far as Tony (and her doctors) knew, the surgery was to readjust the spinal plates that had shifted slightly as she got older. Having the machinery deactivated by Rowes had unsettled Maggie, and she wanted to update the technology.
Maggie also had her surgeons install some additional machinery; she already had metal wires transferring sensation and communication up and down her body, but now she had two small metal ports at the center of her back, on either side of her spine. So it's easier to update the technology in future, she had told the doctors, and, trusting her genius, they had gone ahead with it.
The surgery hadn't been that invasive, it had only taken her a few weeks to recover. Now she was certain that the machinery snaking up and down her spine could not be knocked out by any form of electronic deactivator, and she had two external reminders that she would always be part machine.
The ports were about the size of a golfball in diameter, the skin around them cleanly healed so there was a neat transition from flesh to metal. When deactivated the ports were smooth metal, with fine arced grooves in the surface. When activated the grooves opened up, sliding back to reveal a knuckle-deep mechanical mooring.
Sure that the moorings were clear, Maggie crouched down, picked up her wingpack, and slung the harness over her back. It instantly deployed. Maggie closed her eyes when she felt the moorings in her back activate, whirring open. In the same moment the metal lump on her back began to move, and two mechanical ports slid into the moorings on her back. She became a part of the wingpack, and it became a part of her. Several metal harnesses stretched around Maggie's chest and up to her shoulders, completely stabilising the connection and centring to her body. Like being embraced by the wings.
When the wings unfurled, arcing wide to either side of her, Magge let out a breath. She still wasn't used to the rush of feeling.
Aside from the metal moorings, Maggie had had to change surprisingly little about her internal wiring. For twenty years, Maggie had had machines reading her biological communications and translating those into sensation and movement. By forging a connection with her wings, Maggie had reversed that process: translating mechanical readings and communications into the biological. And it had worked.
As Maggie stood on the forest floor a rush of feeling flooded in from her wings: she felt where they connected with her back, a warm point of wires and nerve endings, thrumming with information and strength. She felt the rise and fall of her wings with each breath, felt the faint brush of wind along each carbon fiber surface.
Maggie had blurred the line between metal and flesh. The wings directly read the signals from her body - she no longer needed to fly with hand controls, since the wings were a part of her. And now, she could read the wings. She could feel them.
Tony wore his metal as an armor. Maggie's was inside her bones, inside her body. When the wings unfurled from her back, it felt as if metal lived in her mind and her heart. Before, she had been able to feel wind pressure on the wings, like a sailor could feel his ship's sails fill and loosen. But now, if someone were to stroke a finger along her wing, Maggie would shiver as if they were touching bare flesh.
Maggie had not had to explain herself to anyone, so the wings just… were. As if she'd grown a secret set of extra limbs. She knew why she'd done it though. Because she knew the wings were a part of her, as surely as if she'd been missing them since birth. They were as much a part of her as her prosthetic leg. And she had been unable to pass up the opportunity of making them truly hers.
And her flying had improved by miles. Maggie flew like she had been born to it.
Checking her gear once more, Maggie fired up her engines with a thought, and with a single beat of her wings shot into the sky. She spiralled up into darkness, leaving the forest behind, a creature of metal and flesh and air. The world dropped away beneath her. She felt the wind pressing against her taut carbon fiber membranes and whistling in her ears, felt the humidity in the air gathering as moisture along the metal tips of her wings, her muscles stretching and burning as she cut through the sky.
Maggie wondered if she ought to feel fear. But she didn't feel fear when flying - nervousness, sometimes, like a buzzing pressure at the bottom of her stomach, but never fear. She'd never thought to be afraid of it before, and now didn't seem like the time to start.
When the drug manufacturing factory came into view, Maggie's eyes narrowed behind her glowing red goggles.
Ready or not...
Three hours later, Maggie piloted her charter jet up out of Seville and set a course back for the States. Then she pulled out her Wyvern computer and sent off her intelligence to the Gibraltar local PD and Interpol. She ended her intelligence packages these days not with her name, but with an image:
Two black wings with a twist between them, a suggestion of a Wyvern's body.
Yawning, Maggie dabbed at her split lip and gently smoothed cream onto the burn mark under her jaw - there'd been an explosion, and a molten scrap of shrapnel had caught her in the narrow gap between her cowl and her suit. A problem to be remedied.
Once her computer pinged to let her know the intelligence had been delivered, Maggie closed the computer, then leaned back in the pilot's seat and watched the horizon.
As the hours ticked by Maggie felt the Wyvern slowly pull away, rolling back into herself, curling up her metal claws and closing her wings. Ready to fight another day.
May 6, 2009
New York City
"Thanks for inviting me out for lunch, Pepper," Maggie said as she took her seat at the restaurant table opposite Pepper. "I know you've been busy with the Expo too, it's nice of you to organize this."
"Oh, well," Pepper said, smiling thinly. Her eyes flicked over Maggie's face. "It's been a long time coming."
They were both in town for the start of the Expo tomorrow, and in between the frantic last minute preparations Pepper had told Maggie she'd booked a reservation for lunch, just the two of them. It wasn't often they spent time alone together, and Maggie didn't know why. She enjoyed Pepper's company.
They ordered food and drinks, and then discussed Expo preparations for the next few minutes. They were both in their work clothes, Pepper in a fine charcoal pencil dress, and Maggie in a blue suit with the jacket sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
When their food came, Pepper took a sip from her drink. "So how are things going with you, Maggie? Outside of work?"
Maggie cocked her head. "Just fine, thanks. Though work takes up more of my time than it probably should."
Pepper bit her lip. "I know. Have you…" she ducked her head to take a bite of her ravioli. "How's the dating going?"
Her lips quirked. "The dating?"
The other woman went a little pink in the cheeks, but then made a gesture that was clearly intended to be casual. "Well your brother has clearly adjusted to being back, as we've seen in the tabloids, but I was wondering about you. Are you seeing anyone?"
Maggie raised her eyebrows. "I… no. Not for more than a night, anyway." Where is this going?
Pepper cleared her throat. "I wanted to talk to you, Maggie, about… well, about relationships."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I know you've not had a serious relationship - well, not one that you've told me about anyway" - for a moment Pepper's gaze was sharp, searching - "and I was thinking the other day about a talk my mother gave me when I was a teenager, and I…"
"What's this about, Pepper?" Maggie asked, frowning. She'd never seen her like this before.
Pepper drew a breath, then looked Maggie in the eye. "You are a genius. Indisputably, and I know that. But I just hope that you know that… in a relationship, even one which may seem loving, it is possible for someone who says they love you to hurt you. Emotionally, and physically. It happens far more often than you'd think, that kind of… abuse. And it is not acceptable." She reached across the table and took Maggie's hand where it had been resting by her fork. "You deserve so much love, Maggie, and respect, and safety. If ever anyone isn't giving you those things-"
"Wait, wait," Maggie said. She felt like her brain was wrinkling. "What?" But then Pepper's eyes flicked to her split lip, and the burn on her jaw, and something inside her seemed to shiver.
Oh, Pepper.
Maggie wondered how long she'd had this suspicion. Pepper had noticed her small injuries over the months, but Maggie hadn't thought she'd draw this conclusion. She should have suspected yesterday, when she got back from the mission and Pepper asked about the burn mark with a too-sharp note in her voice. Maggie had told her that she burnt herself while straightening her hair, but Pepper was better at spotting lies than she'd thought.
Pepper forged on. "Maggie, you can tell me anything, I hope you know that-"
"It's not like that," Maggie rushed out. She squeezed Pepper's hand. "I promise, it's not what you think. Thank you, really, for caring. It does mean a lot. But you don't need to worry about me. I've got this." She smiled reassuringly.
Pepper didn't look convinced.
So Maggie went with a dirty shot to pull Pepper's mind off the things she couldn't explain. "When you started talking about relationships, I thought you were about to tell me you were dating Tony."
Pepper went violently pink and dropped her hand. "I - no, god no Maggie, I didn't mean to give that impression-"
"It's okay," Maggie laughed. She tapped the side of her nose. "Your secret is safe with me."
Pepper's eyes narrowed. That might've been a step too far. "There's no secret."
They both returned to their food for a few moments, each contemplating what the other had said.
Pepper eventually broke the silence. "I mean it though, Maggie. No matter what it is, you can tell me anything." Her blue eyes were earnest and concerned.
Maggie smiled, and reached across the table again to take her hand. "I know."
May 7, 2010
Flushing Meadows, New York City
When Iron Man rocketed through the roof of the Stark Expo stadium and landed with a clang on stage, the enormous crowd erupted into cheers. Fireworks blasted from the stadium roof and across the stage as a line of dancers danced to Shoot to Thrill.
They'd designed it like a concert on purpose - neither Tony nor Maggie had wanted the Expo to be some dry science show. This was a science festival.
Iron Man raised his arms and the assembly robots around him whirred to life, beginning to dismantle the armor. The crowd roared again, waving their hands in the air. Lights flashed and the music pounded through the stadium, the place alive with excitement.
Backstage, Maggie did the Shoot to Thrill dance in time with the dancers, spinning and kicking her feet. Pepper, standing nearby with a headset on, laughed at her. Maggie had seen the dancers rehearse the choreography about fifty times, and it gave her something to do while backstage. Plus it had made Tony's eyes roll when he'd seen her doing it yesterday.
The noise of the crowd ramped up another notch, and Maggie looked over her shoulder as she danced to see that Tony had emerged fully from the Iron Man armor and had given the audience a bow.
A few moments later the song ended and the dancers strode backstage, a couple of them hi-fiving Maggie on the way past. Breathless, Maggie leaned in the wings and watched Tony as he turned, charming and sleek in his new suit, soaking in the cheers of the crowd.
"You missed me?" he called, his voice amplified by speakers throughout the stadium.
"Blow something up!" someone called.
"Blow something up? I already did that," Tony laughed. He sobered, then raised a hand. He began his very-much-not-humble speech, and Maggie shook her head as she listened, smiling. The crowd ate it up, laughing at his jokes and cheering whenever he paused for breath. Maggie heard a woman scream I love you, Tony!
"Please, it's not about me," Tony said with a wry smile. "It's not about you. It's not even about us. It's about… legacy." Maggie drew in a breath. "It's about what we choose to leave behind for future generations. And that's why for the next year, and for the first time since 1974, the best and brightest men and women of nations and corporations the world over will pool their resources, share their collective vision, to leave behind a brighter future."
"It's not about us," Tony repeated, his face solemn and determined. There's the man behind the mask, Maggie thought, smiling. "Therefore, what I'm saying, if I'm saying anything, is welcome back to the Stark Expo!"
The crowd burst into cheers again.
"And now, making a special guest appearance from the great beyond to tell you what it's all about - please welcome my father, Howard."
Tony bowed once more and strode off stage left. The screen behind him changed, revealing film footage of a man in a sharp blue suit, his features strong and handsome.
"Everything is achievable through technology," said Howard Stark.
Maggie looked up at her father for a few moments, letting his voice and his words wash over her. She'd seen the footage before but it felt different tonight, with thousands of eyes watching him. The crowd had gone silent, the light of the screen illuminating their faces as they listened to Howard Stark with a solemn respect. Maggie had never known him to look so young. The mustache she remembered, but in her memories it was white. She felt, for a moment, very small.
Frowning, Maggie turned and wove through the backstage passages, working her way behind the massive screen and over to stage left.
It didn't take her long to find Tony. He stood just offstage, sipping from a Stark Expo waterbottle as he frowned down at a small silver device in his hand.
"What's that?" she asked as she slipped up behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder, slipping the device into his pocket. "Gameboy."
Maggie arched an eyebrow, but didn't pry.
Tony glanced at her flushed face. "Please tell me you didn't do the dance again."
"What?" she grinned, even as she fixed her hair and smoothed down her suit. "It's catchy. You're lucky I didn't do it onstage." Her eyes gleamed. "Maybe I still will."
"I don't think the internet's ready for that." Tony glanced over his shoulder as Howard talked about the City of the Future. "Dad's still talking, you're on in two."
Maggie looked up at their father's face, looming large. "This was a good idea, Tony. But you don't have to parade him out just because you think it's what people expect."
"Stark Industries was his baby, he started the Stark Expo. It'd be weird if we didn't give him a nod."
Maggie cocked her head, then reached out to hug Tony. He patted her back. "You're his baby too, Tony. We both are. He did great things, but… we get to make our own legacy now."
They pulled apart and Tony eyed her, his expression soft and almost… sad?
But the film was already coming to its close. Maggie smiled. "I've got somewhere to be."
"Break a leg," he said wryly.
She walked off, heading to her mark, but spared a moment to call over her shoulder: "I've only got one left!"
A minute later, the Howard on screen smiled and said: "The Stark Expo. Welcome."
The crowd cheered again. And soon after the screen faded to black again, the glowing panel on stage began to move again. People whooped and pointed as the platform split apart, revealing a figure rising up from beneath.
Maggie smiled wide in the flashing lights as she emerged from beneath the stage, rising up on a glowing platform, and didn't wince when the mounting roar of the crowd slammed into her. Not as loud a roar as for Iron Man, but Tony was a tough act to follow.
Besides, Maggie had thought this entrance was fitting: Tony came hurtling in from above like a meteor, and she crept up from the shadows underground.
When the panel came level with the stage with a hiss, Maggie stepped off and turned, waving to the crowd. She wore a sharp burgundy suit and sharp smile, as well as a pair of black heels which clicked with every step. "Welcome to the Stark Expo!" she called, the microphone pinned to her jacket picking up her voice and amplifying it a hundredfold.
Tony was the showman of the family, but Maggie had not missed out on the Stark genes, and she was not afraid. She soaked in the cheers and whistles, grinning and waving, not letting the massive stage swallow her whole but owning it. She didn't appear in public all that much, and she knew people were curious.
When the cheers had died down enough, she stopped pacing. "Now I know I'm not quite as good as making an entrance as my brother," she said with a wink, and there was a round of laughter. "But before we get back to the dancing and the fireworks, I'm here to give you a little taster of what you've got to look forward to this year."
She snapped her fingers and a dozen other sections of the stage opened up behind her, panels rising up to reveal a dozen carefully-selected inventions, gleaming and glowing and whirring and drawing awed gasps from the crowd.
Maggie gestured behind her, then turned back to the audience. "Let's have a look, shall we?"
After the opening ceremony Maggie did a few press interviews, her eyes starting to hurt from the flashing lights. She'd just stepped away from an interview with a CNN reporter when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She lifted it to her ear.
"You've got Maggie."
"Hey Mags."
"Tony?" She could hear a car engine in the background of his call. "Did you and Happy leave already?"
"Yeah, I just got served a subpoena to appear at a Senate Armed Services Committee hearing in the morning."
Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose. Just perfect. "Well… we knew it was coming, didn't we? It'll be fine-"
"The subpoena's just for me, thankfully, not you."
Maggie sighed. "I'll catch the next flight up to D.C., I should be there anyway. Are you at the jet?"
"Nah, Happy and I are going to drive."
She rolled her eyes. "See you in D.C., I guess."
Reviews
DBZFAN45: I'm so glad you enjoyed last chapter with all its actions and near misses! I wish Maggie could have helped out with taking down Obie too, but there wasn't a way to manage that without Tony seeing her, and I'm not quite ready for that reveal yet ;) I'm excited to bring in Natasha soon :) Cheers!
Guest: Aw thank you! What a kind review :) I'm excited to bring in Nat too, but she's not quite here yet ;)
The1975Love: Ooh so you're pro-secret keeping for Maggie! We shall have to see how that works out for her ;) I'm excited too, hope you enjoyed this first installment of Iron Man 2!
Guest: Thanks for the 300th review! I'm over the moon, thank you for your kind words :) I'm excited to get to Bucky too!
TheSilverQueen: So I don't actually intend to write all the way up to Endgame in this fic… shocking I know! Without giving too much away, I plan to go a bit AU around phase 3 (I think, I can't remember what happens in each phase). Thank you!
Wyrleen: Nah, I think we're all happy he's dead now lol, he had it coming. I am sad Maggie didn't get to kick his ass, but she was busy with other stuff haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!