what the fuck is uuuuupppppp lmfao don't ask me why i'm bored as hell in quarantine! I feel fucking crazy but i found a chapter in my google drive from two years ago and noticed on a lark how many nice reviews I got while I was away and busy with school. They all mean so much to me and I really want to finish this story my overdramatic 16 yr old self started so like here we go i guess. I'm like really bad with articulating my feelings but you guys made me cry i will not lie! This was half written a few years ago so I'm sorry if its a little confusing.
Tony Stark weaved his fingers together over a pristine white table in a pristine white room with no art on the walls, just a pathetic fern shriveled in the corner. He had the aftertaste of Cheerios and whiskey broiling in the back of his throat, and last night lingers in dark rings around his eyes. In front of him is an accordion style briefcase open holding a severed head, behind him was Natasha Romanov, shrewd as ever, like a concentrated cloud of hate over his shoulder.
"Put it in the record: I am emotionally and physically hungover, and don't want to be here."
"Go fuck yourself, Stark."
"Thank you, Natasha," he droned.
The Spider rolls her shoulder and he's convinced she hasn't blinked once. She hasn't forgiven him for a single one of his many mistakes, and spent every chance she could making his life a (somehow) bigger nightmare. Slamming doors in his face, stealing his wallet, killing his plants-his microwave dinners haven't been cooking all the way through, either, and while Tony can't prove it he knows she's involved. He was keyed up, not that Tony would ever admit it. Animosity choked the air and the head on the table looked like it was laughing at him.
"Look, okay," He sighs, skidding a tablet to her, "Your time-out's over, Romanov, so don't bite my head off," there's a ping in the corner of Tony's eye, an alert from an Ipad to his left and a good excuse to leave if needed, "it's been, what? Three months since our new friend showed up?" He asks, pointing a thumb at the briefcase. "I'm only half a miracle worker."
"Have you worked on following the trail? Vision said you had a lead."
"No-"
"Stark."
Tony's imagination helpfully supplemented 23 ways involving just his own fingers the Russian could kill him, and flurries.
"But-but-but! But- HYDRA does. Did. Does?"
"Stark."
"I miss my first name, what happened to that?"
"You put me on house arrest."
"We're all on house arrest!"
Natasha looked away from the head for the first time during their meeting, and shot Stark with the most chilling glare he'd ever seen, like she was debating if it would be a greater inconvenience to kill him or deal with the consequences of choking him out on the linoleum.
"Okay, okay," he raises his hands in false defeat, grimacing, "Vision, as much as I hate to admit it, has been dogging HYDRA better than I have, but they've been mobilizing. I've gotten energy signatures I've never seen before outside of New York popping up all over the country. Those nazi fucks have probably noticed these signatures too, that's why Vision thinks they after the same thing we are."
"Actually," he starts, "let me show you."
Tony waves his hands in broad strokes before them. The light up display comes to life before them, silently. He jars for a second, half expecting Jarvis to ask which file he'd need before snapping back to reality. Electromagnetic synapses following his will, twisting and molding a map of neon lights. He takes them north, up and up and up to a frozen speck of a town. "Remember when you went to scare the mormons up in Maine? Well the activity in that area has been multiplying by the day. You might wanna head back."
Natasha furrowed her brow, resting a hip on the table, staring at the head.
The map of North America illuminated was speckled with dots, tiny clusters of activity slowly getting denser and more numerous in proximity to a very familiar town in Maine.
"You've got to be kidding…"
"Nope!" Stark claps, shining her the best smile he could muster, "You completely missed 'em! Don't let it get you down, take off's at 16:00 so pack your parka, Red."
"I don't like this, don't you think it's a little too obvious?" She asks.
Tony shrugs, "could be, but Hydra's been abuzz about it for weeks, it's not like we can ignore it."
"Unless someone wants to distract us."
"Oh wow!" Tony snaps, "if only I'd thought of that!"
Natasha scoffed, crossing her arms, muscles straining against the tight clothes of her blouse. He knew she was doing her job. He also knew it wasn't a coincidence they started picking up signals after the head appeared.
Tony rubbed his eyes, "Fuck, I know, alright? But it's all we got, FRIDAY's running surveillance for development and Visions… being Vision. Don't ask what that is I'm pretty sure he just sits around and focuses his infinite wisdom on turning greener. It's this or nothing."
Natasha grimaced, eyes sliding back the suitcase with its rich velvet lining. Her nose wrinkled, pulling her face into a slow, ugly expression. Tony watched her slowly pull herself up to stand, and wonders what she's thinking about while looking at that evil hunk of metal on the table. He doesn't say anything, for once, until he realized he's started staring at the head himself. His gut heavy, hands itchy, he remembers how they found it, in the middle of their lawn mounting on pike, still sparking. He remembers every wound opening up at the sight of it, dread coursing through their veins.
"We're fixing this." Tony blurts. A promise. Both of them knew it was directed at himself, the woman still snorted.
"It's too late to fix it, Stark, he's-"
"Don't-don't finish that sentence."
"You know it's true."
Tony swings around in his chair to met her in the eyes, furious, he can feel himself slipping away from control of the conversation quicker than he can handle and she hadn't even said its name. So he did what all Starks knew to do from birth, deflect, "What we know is someone left that damn head on my front porch. That's all, we don't know it's him."
"What about the note?" she challenges.
Tony looks away from her, resting his arms on the table, head hung low despite the sardonic grin on his lips, "Bad joke."
She hummed, making him feel worse. She had a knack for that. Tony knew he was being stubborn, but he was right, he had to be. He was dead, they checked, double, triple, quadruple checked, and sifted through every piece of rubble until their hands cracked.
Natasha strikes her heels against the floor as she leaves, but doesn't slam the door to make him jump for a change. Tony figures she just didn't have the energy for it, too exhausted by reopened wounds like the rest of them.
He sighs to himself, rubbing his temples and fixing on the head. Its scratched surface glinting back at him in the midafternoon light. His throat was tight, his palms itched, Tony tried to force a swallow. It didn't matter if Natasha thought he fixed it or not, he was a genius,he could do this, he had too, he didn't think he could keep doing this if- no. Tony catches himself. It didn't help to think about failure, it wasn't an option, not again.
The head leers at him, catlike sockets and sharp mouth, he could almost hear it taunting him. Ultron was dead. Deleted. Gone. Tony Stark collected his files stiffly, always flickering back at the empty eyes that clung to his every move.
He pulls the suitcase towards him, unfolding the spattered, worn paper folded into a square next to the iron jaw. Tony read the messy scrawl for the hundredth time, bile crawling up his throat. Miss me?
"Go to hell." Tony whispered, slamming the suitcase shut.
He stood and left, Ultron's head an unbearable weight in his hand.
There was no point being scared of ghost.
end scene.
I'll upload the next chapter in a couple days if anyone reads this and could review it would mean a lot!
Imo I don't like tony stark bc hes a rich white dude and it drives me insane but also its true that his character got demolished by mcu bc they wanted to whore him out as the funny man of the group and ruined his redeemable features by trying to appease their gd male nerdbro audience. tf company. I see mcu tony(in this fic) as a very broken person who doesnt know how to be one, and that why hes so fucking stubborn and 'my way or the my way fuck u im tony stark' and can only look forward otherwise he'd have to look at the shit his ruined on the way up and like... god forbid... use his wealth for humanitarian aid or something much less fun than being iron man. I also think that despite his desire to be a hero he ultimately suffers from rich-brain illness, hes rich, has always been rich, and that why his mental leaps to help people was to make a fucking suit rather than distribute his wealth or fix the fictional marvel au middle east his weapons destroyed lol. MCU really just forgot they wrote him to have ptsd and it shows but fortunately for them i am an olympic medalist at mental gymnastic. at least for this fic.
thank you again to everyone who left reviews next chapter the gruesome twosome will be back. I'm gonna go reread those reviews and cry again ilu all.