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This is quite a monster chapter! I hope you guys all enjoy! :)
"Sir," Tony heard as he came to, his head pounding in sync with the master alarm blaring inside his helmet. His eyes blinked open once, then again, grateful that it appeared to be dark outside.
"Sir!" JARVIS's voice said again, more urgently this time.
"Yeah, yeah," Tony mumbled, each word bringing with it a fresh shot of pain across his forehead. "Kill the alarm, JARVIS, I got it!"
"Sir, that's the emergency alert triggered by the power dropping below five percent," said JARVIS.
"What… ?" Tony grunted, his eyes widening in shock as he realized he was still flying at top speed, and on a direct course for the highway.
"Aahh!"
Tony braced himself as well as he could, but the first impact seemed to jar every single bone in his body and he screamed, unable to control himself as he shot back up off the street and through a line of trees before he was able to bounce to a stop in a snow-covered field of some kind. Pushing himself onto his back, Tony groaned in pain as he removed his mask, blinking in confusion at the eerily calm snowflakes falling gracefully around him.
"It's snowing, right?" Tony said through his gasping breaths. "Where are we, upstate?"
"We are five miles outside of Rose Hill, Tennessee," replied JARVIS.
What. The. Hell?
"Tennessee? Why? JARVIS, this is thousands of miles away! I gotta get back, I gotta see if Pepper's okay, and—"
"I prepared a flight plan," said JARVIS, and Tony swore he sounded like he was actually upset. "This was the location."
"All right, then we have to get back!" Tony snapped, groaning as he attempted to sit up. "Open the suit, J."
"I—, I think I may be malfunctioning, sir," JARVIS said, the suit squeaking as it opened away from the front of Tony's body. Tony immediately shot up, shivering violently as a massive wall of frigid air smacked him straight on, nearly knocking him backwards again.
"Oh, that's brisk!" Tony exclaimed. He rubbed his hands together, bringing them to his mouth to try and warm them and wincing as that damn sharp, tingling pain shot down the length of his left arm. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I think I'll just cozy back down here for a—"
"I actually think I need to sleep now, sir," said JARVIS, and Tony's throat tightened as the AI's voice seemed to fade away into the night. In all the years since Tony had created him, JARVIS had never once not been there when Tony needed him.
"JARVIS," Tony begged, his heart stuttering against his chest piece as he glanced frantically around the desolated countryside. "Don't leave me, buddy."
But Tony's plea was met with only the sound of the harsh wind. Hot, salty tears sprung to Tony's eyes, burning his bruised eyelids. He was sitting in a field of snow covered in fallen leaves and tree branches in the middle of nowhere, his body battered and broken with only the moon to illuminate his way. He had no mode of transportation besides his own two feet, no telephone with which to contact Peter to let him know he was okay, and now no armor and no JARVIS.
A numbness Tony hadn't felt since his days of excessive drinking crept over him and he shivered, fighting against the nearly overwhelming urge to either scream or cry, both of which he knew would do absolutely nothing to help his current predicament.
He was truly alone.
"All right. Now, can you please repeat what you just said in English, please?" Steve said, and Peter could tell he was trying hard to suppress his impatience. It hadn't taken Peter long to discover that Bruce—much like his father, and even he himself if he was honest—tended to shift into technobabble whenever he was either overly excited or anxious about something. And Steve, for all his ability to quickly pick up on things and make split-second tactical decisions, still wasn't one to understand much technobabble.
Bruce pursed his lips, huffing in frustration as he set his tablet down on the floor next to a huge pile of papers. They were all sitting in Dad's lab, Steve and Bruce on the floor with Peter leaning against the couch next to the wall, the bluish glow from the various monitors glinting off of Bruce's glasses and reflecting off of the huge windows that surrounded them. It was dark outside, and Peter knew it had to be late, but he had no idea what time it was. Ever since they'd lost contact with his dad he hadn't cared much about eating or sleeping, the guilt over not being able to strengthen his tracking ability for Dad's chest piece gnawing away at him more with every hour that passed. Maybe if he hadn't been such a clingy little crybaby ever since the Battle of New York he would've had more time to work on that subroutine.
"Okay. Apparently this Maya Hansen woman developed this Extremis… thing back in the late nineties. She was testing it in plants since she's a botanist by training, but she couldn't perfect it. There was something wrong with it, a glitch of some kind, and she ran out of funding before she was able to work out the issue. It was around that time that she first met Tony."
"Yeah, I got that much," Steve said from the opposite side of the lab, where he was sitting next to his own tall stack of papers. "But what exactly does this Extremis thing do?"
"Basically," Peter cut in, glancing sheepishly at Bruce who gave him a nod. "It's an advanced form of genetic manipulation that allows whatever plant has it to heal and regenerate from physical damage. So if you accidentally tear off a leaf, a new one will grow back in its place."
Steve furrowed his brow. "Okay, but JARVIS said that Maya Hansen worked for Advanced Idea Mechanics? And that they were using Extremis on humans, to regrow damaged tissue?"
"That is correct, Captain," JARVIS piped up. "Advanced Idea Mechanics, or AIM, procured the Extremis technology from Miss Hansen and have since applied it to human subjects."
"Okay," said Steve. "So that's all well and good. But this part doesn't make sense to me. Here you have a… something that can help amputees regrow lost limbs. That seems pretty groundbreaking to me. So why haven't we heard about it before now? Why's it been a secret all this time?"
"Because AIM is a think tank that's been funded primarily with military contracts," Bruce said, shuffling through his papers. "Or, at least that's what this one SHIELD report says."
"Hmm…" Steve muttered, tapping his fingers on the floor. "So someone in the military—"
"Or someone with strong military connections," interrupted Bruce.
"Right. So someone either in or connected to the military didn't or doesn't want this technology to get out."
"That seems to be an accurate assumption," said Bruce, rolling his eyes. "And one that wouldn't surprise me in the least."
"JARVIS? You said that Tony met Maya Hansen before she worked for AIM?" asked Steve.
"That is correct, Captain. Mr. Stark became acquainted with Miss Hansen on New Year's Eve, 1999, while at a conference in Bern, Switzerland."
"And what's the guy's name who runs AIM, again?"
"Advanced Idea Mechanics is run by a gentleman by the name of Aldrich Killian," answered JARVIS.
Peter squeezed his eyes closed, wracking his exhausted, fried brain. He was certain that he'd heard Killian's name before somewhere. Dad still didn't talk all that much to him about his work, but it sounded too familiar to just be floating around in his head for no apparent reason.
"Wait a minute! That guy went to see Pepper only a couple of days before Happy got hurt!" Peter blurted out, ducking his head and curling his shoulders when Bruce and Steve both turned to him with wide eyes. "Um… I heard my dad talking to her about it."
"You just… heard them talking about it?" asked Steve, quirking an eyebrow.
"Well… more like overheard," admitted Peter, gulping as he squeezed George to his chest. "Dad thought I was sleeping. I mean, I was asleep, 'cause he always sits with me until I fall asleep, but then I woke up and I—, I was scared, so I went to find him… and he was talking to Pepper." His eyes flicked sheepishly between Steve and Bruce. "Please don't tell my dad. Please? He doesn't like it when I sneak up on him."
"It's okay, Peter. You're not in trouble," said Bruce, trying to sound reassuring. "Did you happen to overhear what this Aldrich Killian guy wanted with Pepper?"
Peter shook his head, his nose brushing against George's furry neck. "No. I just went back to my room." He didn't dare add that the reason he had retreated so quickly was because Dad and Pepper started arguing about him shortly after Killian's name was mentioned.
"Does JARVIS keep a record of Tony's conversations?" Steve asked, catching hold of Bruce's leg just as he tripped over yet another stack of papers. Bruce shot him a grateful look as he stumbled over to one of the monitors and started typing in commands. "Maybe we can play it back and find out?"
"Mr. Stark's privacy settings do not allow me to replay personal conversations without his express consent," said JARVIS. "I am sorry, Captain."
Bruce's shoulders sagged. "Okay, but maybe you could tell us what Pepper mentioned about this Aldrich Killian?" he asked, still rapidly tapping on one of the virtual keyboards. "Just, I don't know, paraphrase it or something? If we knew where Pepper was we could just ask her, but since we don't… we're kinda stuck here."
"It appears that Mr. Killian visited Miss Potts at Stark Industries to discuss her possible interest in collaborating on the Extremis project," JARVIS said a few seconds later. "Miss Potts declined the invitation, stating that the idea was too potentially weaponisable if it fell into the wrong hands."
"Well, she was right!" Bruce yelped, looking up from his monitor. "From what I just read, Extremis essentially hacks into the area of the brain that governs repair and chemically recodes it, which—"
"Hacks?" Steve cut in, looking horrified. "That sounds pretty violent, and not to mention very painful!"
"No, no," Bruce said, shaking his head. "To hack a computer means to break in to its operating system. Usually to steal something or to leave code behind that will allow you to change how the computer's systems are working."
"Okay," Steve said slowly. "So if this Extremis can… hack into a person's brain and cause their amputated limb to grow back, then there also exists the potential for someone else to go back and change the coding again. Am I right?"
"Yes, that is correct," answered Bruce with a grimace. "And Pepper was right; this is potentially very weaponisable. No wonder it was funded with military contracts."
"But that still doesn't explain why the plant lady was at our house in the first place! And while it was being attacked!" Peter said, tears of frustration pooling in his eyes. "If she was only working on plants, then why would she go to our house? My dad doesn't even like plants!"
"Peter, maybe it's time for you to head to bed?" Steve suggested gently, causing Peter's lungs to seize in his chest. "I promise we'll let you know if we hear from—"
"No, no, no, please, please!" Peter cried, his lungs contracting further with every word. "Please let me stay here! There's no way I'll be able to sleep right now, and I don't wanna be alone!"
"No, no, Steve, the little guy can stay here," Bruce said soothingly, shooting a scowl over in Steve's direction. "He just watched his father nearly get blown to bits for crying out loud." Digging around in his pants pocket, Bruce pulled out one of Peter's inhalers, tossing it over to him. "But only if you're able to stay calm enough to not make yourself sick. Okay, Peter? The last thing anyone needs right now is for you to push yourself into an asthma attack."
Choking back a sob, Peter nodded as he slid the inhaler between his lips, the sharp puff of medicated air causing him to jump as it hit the back of his throat. He hated using his inhalers. They tasted terrible, and he was always so shaky and nauseous afterwards. But he supposed it was a small price to pay to be able to stay up and try to help. And to not be alone.
"Okay," Steve said. He had moved over next to Peter during his outburst, and Peter leaned against his bulky arm, grateful for the support. "JARVIS, can you tell us anything else about this Maya Hansen? Bruce mentioned something about a problem with her work, the glitch? Do we know what that glitch was?"
"Incoming message from Mr. Stark," JARVIS said.
"Yes, please, JARVIS!" yelped Peter. "Is he okay?"
"It is a prerecorded message that was left on the Stark servers," answered JARVIS. "Beginning playback."
"Hey everyone, it's me. I don't have a lot of time so this is gonna be quick. I'm still here, and in one piece for the most part, but I can't come home yet. This is a demon that I created, and I need to find this guy. Pepper, you gotta stay safe. And hidden. Stay hidden until I can come and find you. Guys, you better keep my kid safe or I'll kick both your asses to the moon when I get back. And Pete, I'm sorry to have to do this at Christmastime, buddy. I promise I'll make it up to you next year, all right? I'll contact you again when I can."
"That is the extent of the recording," JARVIS said.
They were all silent for a few moments, with Peter's heart thudding so hard it seemed like it was trying to burst out of his chest as he tried to make sense of his dueling emotions. Being told that his dad was still alive was nothing compared to hearing his actual voice, but his refusal to come home because he was on what seemed to be a personal vendetta against a very scary and dangerous terrorist caused a fresh swell of fear to well up in the pit of Peter's stomach. He turned his face into Steve's arm, shuddering as he tried to stifle his sobs, curling even further into himself when Steve wrapped his arm around him.
"Why does he think he needs to find the Mandarin?" Peter choked out. "And why does he think he needs to do it alone?"
"I don't know, Peter," Steve answered quietly. "But try and remember. As long as we're here to help him, he won't really be alone."
"All right, you happy now?" Tony asked, gingerly leaning back on the beat-up couch inside the garage he'd just broken into. He briefly wondered if talking to his suit as if it could still talk back to him meant that he truly was nuts, or just simply exhausted.
Has the helmet always looked like its scowling, or am I just seeing things?
Nevermind, don't answer that.
After allowing himself a few minutes to catch his breath, Tony pushed himself up off the couch and wandered over to the dusty, cluttered worktable, wincing as he noticed one of his subdermal implants poking up through the skin on his forearm. He was just in the middle of removing it with an old pliers when the door to the garage suddenly burst open in a cloud of swirling snowflakes.
"Freeze!" came the sound of a high pitched voice, which for a split second sounded so eerily like Peter that Tony jumped. Gulping, he looked up to see a boy, right around Peter's age, holding a potato gun that he'd obviously built himself.
"Don't move," the kid said.
"Okay, you got me," Tony said, raising his arms in surrender. "Nice potato gun by the way. Barrel's a little long though. Between that and the wide gauge it's gonna diminish your FPS."
The kid wrinkled his nose as he aimed the barrel up over Tony's head, shooting what seemed to be a very strategically placed glass jar right off a shelf.
"And now you're out of ammo," Tony said with a smirk, turning his attention back to his battered arm. Good thing he'd shot himself with an excessive amount of implants, or he'd be SOL right about now.
"What's that thing on your chest?" the kid asked.
My kid's favorite place to rest his head? "An electromagnet," Tony answered, pointing to a box on the table. "You should know, you've got a whole box of them right here."
"What does it power?"
Tony shook his head in frustration. It was so easy to forget just how many questions a kid tended to ask sometimes. Stepping back from the table, Tony flipped the lamp, illuminating the suit's damaged body.
Gasping, the kid's gun slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the floor. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed. "Is that Iron Man?"
"Technically, I am," replied Tony.
"No, technically you're dead," the kid said, shoving a folded newspaper at Tony's abdomen.
"Well, I've been called dead before," Tony said as he scanned the headline that read Mandarin Attack: Stark Presumed Dead.
"What happened to him?" the kid asked, and Tony stiffened as he started running his hands all over his armor like was examining it. He didn't like strangers touching his things.
"Life," Tony answered. He tossed the newspaper to the ground. "I built him, I take care of him, and now I gotta fix him."
"Like a mechanic?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm," the kid said with a shrug. "You know, if I was building Iron Man and War Machine—"
"It's Iron Patriot now," Tony grumbled. Stupid name.
"Oh, that's way cooler!"
"No, it's not."
"Anyways," the kid continued, not missing a beat. "I would've added in the retro…"
"Retro-reflective panels—?"
"To make him stealth mode," he finished. "Cool, right?"
"Hmm. That's actually a good idea," Tony said, twitching as the kid bent one of the suit's fingers back and it broke off into his hand. "That's not a good idea! Why'd you just break his finger? He's in pain!"
"Sorry! I didn't mean to! But, like, don't you have a backup or something?"
"I did have backups! But they're all buried under about four tons of debris right now!" snapped Tony, wincing when the kid flinched. Of all the dumb decisions to transfer his new suits out to Malibu when Happy got hurt…
"Don't worry about it, kid. I can fix it." Tony paused, his eyes flicking over towards the house. "So, who else is home?"
"Well…" the kid stammered. "My mom already left for the diner, and Dad went to the 7-11 to get scratchers. And I guess he won 'cause that was six years ago. Right after my sister was born."
"Oh," Tony said, hoping it didn't sound as impatient as he felt. "That sucks. I'm sorry, kid."
"Yeah."
"Okay, so here's what I need," Tony commanded. "A laptop, a digital watch, a cell phone, the pneumatic actuator from your bazooka over there, a map of town, a big spring, and a tuna fish sandwich." Peter didn't like tuna, so Tony couldn't remember the last time he'd had it.
"Sure. What's in it for me?" the kid asked.
"Mmm-hmm. What's his name?"
"Who?"
"The kid who bullies you at school?" Tony asked, feeling a flash of satisfaction as he kid sheepishly looked down. "I'd recognize that look on your face from a mile away."
"How'd you—?"
"All right, don't tell me his name. But I got just the thing," said Tony. Opening one of the 42's armament slots, he pulled out a small flash grenade. "This is a piñata for a cricket. No, I'm kidding. This is a very powerful weapon. Point it away from your face, press the button on top. It should… discourage any further bullying." The kid reached for it, but Tony held it away. "It's only for covering one's ass. Deal?"
"Deal."
"So, what's your name?"
"Harley," the kid answered, turning the flash grenade over in his hands. "And you're…?"
"The mechanic. Tony."
"Nice to meet you," said Harley.
"Likewise," Tony replied. "Now, where's my sandwich?"
"All right," said Bruce, sighing as he removed his glasses and rubbed at his forehead. "I've managed to uncover another old database from SHIELD that was buried under about three tons of other crap. Man, whoever used to be in charge of their electronic filing system should be fired. It makes absolutely no logical sense at all!"
"What's it say?" asked Peter, impatient for good news, or any news at all. They'd been working through the entire night trying to uncover more information on why this Maya Hansen woman had sought out Peter's father at the same time as the Malibu house was attacked.
Replacing his glasses, Bruce tugged the monitor closer to him, squinting slightly as he read.
"Extremis is an advanced form of genetic manipulation created by Maya Hansen and Aldrich Killian. Utilizing nanotechnology, it grants the injured plant, animal, or human the ability to heal and regenerate from physical damages, deformities, and even psychological damages. This includes the regrowth of severed limbs, as well as various levels of physical enhancement."
"Physical enhancement?" said Steve from his position on the floor, right next to Peter. "That sounds an awful lot like—"
"Like you?" said Peter sheepishly. "I mean, isn't that how you got to be Captain America? Through some special serum thingy?"
"Yes, but that formula was lost when Dr. Erskine was killed," answered Steve. "He never completely wrote down his formula, out of fear that it would be stolen and misused."
"And ever since then people have been trying to replicate his work," Bruce said, and Peter swore he almost looked guilty. "Without too much success, I might add."
"Dr. Erskine was a pretty smart guy," Steve said wistfully. "But above that, he was honorable. He only intended his formula to be used for good, and he didn't deserve what happened to him."
"Does the database say anything else?" Peter asked, frustrated with Steve's reminiscing. On good days Peter enjoyed listening to Steve's stories about his old life, as it helped to distract him some from his own problems. But this was not one of those days.
"There's a bunch of text that's redacted," Bruce said, leaning closer and tapping the monitor. "And… hmm… "
"And what?" asked Peter, alarmed when Bruce's head snapped back in shock. "What is it?"
"Ah, nothing," Bruce said quickly, shooting Peter a tired smile. "It's nothing that can help us, little guy. Just a bunch of gibberish with all the redacted text."
But Peter didn't miss the way Bruce's eyes then flicked over to Steve, giving him a slight shake of his head. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Bruce had seen something besides the gibberish he was reporting.
"Can I look at it?" Peter asked. "Maybe there's something in there that I can—"
"I don't think so, Peter," Bruce said firmly, tapping the monitor to erase the file image. "Why don't we take a short break? I'm sure we all could use some food, and—"
"That's a great idea," Steve said, a bit too quickly. He got to his feet, offering Peter a hand to help him stand up. "It's always easier to work well on a full stomach, right Peter?"
Peter opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it and slammed it shut again, knowing that anything he might say would likely just be wasted breath. But as they all shuffled out of the lab and towards the kitchen, the sense of dread Peter had felt ever since the mansion attack only intensified. Every hour that passed was another hour where he didn't know where his father was, if he was hurt, or what he was doing. And every hour that they failed to uncover any useful information that could help him felt like another hour wasted. Peter felt as if the walls were closing in on him, and he knew it would only get worse the longer this nightmare dragged on.
Goddamn Dora the Explorer plastic watch, Tony thought as he made his way down the line of cars parked against the curb, pointing the would-be assassin's keys and listening for the tell-tale chirp of a resetting alarm. I don't care if it does belong to a six-year old, or if it's a limited edition. It won't stop pulling on my stupid arm hair.
His ears still ringing from the series of explosions that not only completely leveled the corner diner but also brought down the small town's water tower, Tony barely heard Harley's continuous yammering behind him as he opened the driver's side door of a black coupe.
"You're welcome, by the way," Harley said, his childish voice laced with sarcasm.
"For what. Did I miss something?" Tony asked.
"Me? Saving your life?" Harley replied, backhanding Tony's arm. "You know, all this time I thought you wore that circle over your heart because you thought it looked cool. I didn't know it was actually keeping you alive."
"Yeah, yeah," Tony muttered, wincing as he tossed the file he'd recovered from the bar onto the passenger seat. His left arm was hurting again, and both of his wrists were chafed and burned from the damn handcuffs that were seared off by the firestarter woman. "A, I saved you first. B, thanks. And C, if you do something like that for someone, you don't then be a yutz and throw it in their face. Capiche?"
"Huh?" asked Harley. "What does that mean?"
Pete knows what it means. A stab of pain pierced Tony's heart at the thought of his son, and how frightened he knew Peter must be with not knowing what was going on. "It's Italian. Means 'ya know?', or 'understand?' Got it?"
"Oh," Harley said, his dripping hair plastered to his forehead. "But you gotta admit that you need me. We're connected."
Tony drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The last thing he needed right now was to spiral down into yet another anxiety attack, which this kid seemed to specialize in provoking. "Look, kid. What I need is for you to go home, be with your mom and sister, keep your trap shut, guard the suit, and stay connected to the telephone. Because if I call, you'd better pick up." Tony lightly punched his shoulder. "Now, move out of the way or I'll run you over."
"But—!"
"Just get out of the damn way!" Tony snapped, feeling even worse when Harley jumped back, looking like he was about to cry. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I just… you kinda remind me of my own kid, and I miss him. All I wanna do right now is just find my sweetheart and get back to my son, but I can't do that until the suit's fixed and I finish this. Okay?"
But Harley didn't budge. "Hmph," he mumbled. "Your son's lucky."
"Well, yeah, he's mine, so that automatically qualifies him as lucky, but I'm pretty sure that's not what you mean," Tony said, impatiently tapping the steering wheel. "Is it?"
"No, it's not. I meant he's lucky 'cause he actually has a dad."
"Well… he does now, yeah," Tony admitted. "But he's been through a lot. His parents were killed when he was practically a baby, and then his aunt and uncle died a year and a half ago. He didn't have anybody left when I got him."
Harley looked confused. "What do you mean when you 'got' him?"
"I mean that I adopted him. It's been a year now." Wow. Has it really only been a year?
"Really?" exclaimed Harley. "Then why can't you adopt me?"
Sighing, Tony dropped his head back against the headrest. "'Cause I don't think your mom would appreciate that too much. Or your sister. Besides, my kid's a handful. I don't think I could handle having two of you."
"Oh." Harley looked down, shifting on his feet as he wrapped his arms around his chest. "What's he like?"
A wistful smile crept across Tony's burnt, chapped lips. "Well, he's about your age. He's got brown hair, a bit darker than yours, and it's curly so it kinda hangs in his eyes when it gets long. And he's brilliant. Like, even smarter than you are."
"Did he help you build your suit?" asked Harley, sounding excited. "'Cause that would be so cool!"
"No, but I'm sure he could build his own suit if I let him," answered Tony impatiently as he started the car. "Look, kid, I gotta get going."
To Tony's relief, Harley nodded, stepping back from the car. "Yeah, okay."
"Stay by the phone!" Tony said as he drove off.
Peter truly couldn't remember the last time he'd actually slept through the night. Auntie May told him once that when he first went to live with her and Uncle Ben, they would take turns sleeping on the couch holding him because he was too afraid to sleep by himself. It gradually got better as Peter got older, and the shock of losing his parents at such a young age wore off a little. But whenever there was something unusual going on—even something like a thunderstorm, or if the trains zooming by their Queens apartment building seemed unusually loud on any given night—he would beg Auntie May or Uncle Ben to sit and hold him on the couch again so he could sleep. Being alone in his room was just too scary sometimes.
And then came the Expo. And ever since then… well… things had just been kind of spiraling out of control. The shock of losing Ben and May, being taken in by none other than Tony Stark of all people, burying his aunt and uncle, and then being whisked away to a mansion in California all within about a week's time had left Peter's head spinning.
Not to mention that Peter was still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Iron Man, who he had admired ever since he'd announced his identity to the entire world, was now his father.
Peter flopped over on his back, groaning as George bounced off the side of his bed and onto the floor. Pushing himself up on his elbow, Peter leaned over, grabbing the polar bear by one of his ears and pulling him against his chest.
"Sorry, Georgie," Peter muttered, rubbing his nose against the bear's plushy neck. "Can't sleep, as usual."
Steve had insisted that Peter try and get some rest after he started nodding off in Dad's lab, but Peter suspected it had just as much to do with what Steve and Bruce had found in that old computer file that they didn't want Peter to see as it did them actually wanting him to get sleep.
And really. As if there was any way Peter could sleep with everything that was going on right now, even with the soothing rain sounds JARVIS was playing in the background.
Squinting, Peter glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. It was almost three in the morning, which meant he had to lie here for at least another three hours before he could wander out. Steve had sent Bruce back down to his own apartment to get some sleep after he'd started nodding off too, and they had agreed to meet back up in Dad's lab at 6am. Steve was probably sitting out in the living room right now, drawing or watching the news since he didn't really need to sleep all that much.
Lucky for him, Peter thought. No sleep meant no nightmares.
A flash of bright light from outside the window suddenly caught Peter's eye and his head jerked up off his pillow, squinting even further as he tried to figure out what could have caused it. The surrounding buildings all had their nighttime lights on, but being as many stories up as the apartment was, bright lights were uncommon, especially in the middle of the night. Peter's brow furrowed as he grabbed his glasses and walked towards the window, searching for the source of the light. What could it have been?
But after three or four minutes of staring through the window, his eyes scanning the surrounding buildings as best as they could in the darkness, Peter sighed and turned around. Probably just seeing things, he thought as he placed his glasses back down on the bedside table and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water. He supposed he could ask JARVIS about what he saw, but he didn't really want Steve to overhear that he was awake. The man could hear just about anything, even the softest of whispers, and Peter didn't feel like having to deal with him right now.
He'd just laid his head back down on the pillow when he saw the light again, this time even brighter, as if it was almost directly outside the window. Peter cried out, squeezing George to his chest just as his bedroom door flew open and a man whose skin appeared to be on fire burst into the room, carrying a white rag and aiming directly for Peter.
"Help!" Peter croaked, too paralyzed with fear to cry out, or even to move. It didn't make any sense. The Tower was supposed to be on lockdown. Dad's security systems were the best ones available, upgraded since the Battle of New York and supposedly unbreakable. And Steve was here; he was Captain America. No one was supposed to be able to get by him.
"Shut up, kid," the fiery man growled, his voice gravelly and threatening as he advanced toward Peter's bed, raising the rag in his hand. Peter tried to scream as he flattened his body into the mattress, but his lungs felt as though they'd been filled with ash and nothing came out.
The last thing Peter remembered was the smell of a sickly sweet chemical of some kind as the man shoved the rag down over his nose and mouth.
And then, everything went black.
Goddamn AIM! Tony thought, crumpling the file paper he was reading as he drove along the country highway. Why the hell didn't I think of this sooner? Makes perfect sense!
Rhodey had told him that the Iron Patriot rebrand of the War Machine armor was a project that had originally been spearheaded by President Ellis, but it had actually been the Vice President, Rodriguez, who'd been the driving force behind the redesign and he had been the person who'd awarded the contract to AIM.
"What the hell am I missing?" Tony muttered. None of this was making sense. Aldrich Killian was obviously involved somehow, since the timing of his meeting with Pepper was just too coincidental to be accidental. And then the fact that Maya Hansen just happened to show up at the house right before it was attacked, begging him to come with her somewhere so they could talk.
No. It all has to mean something. But what?
Picking up the simple cell phone he'd acquired from Harley, Tony dialed Rhodey's number.
"Yeah, who is this?" Rhodes asked when he answered the call, even though he knew darn well that only Tony had this particular number.
"You know, the last time I went missing you actually came looking for me," Tony said, not without a hint of sarcasm.
"Nah," said Rhodes. "Rogers told me you somehow managed to survive. Again. What are you, Tony, a cat? You got nine lives or something?"
"You know I hate cats," Tony said without thinking. "Wait a minute. Did you say you've been in touch with Rogers?" He immediately slammed on the brakes, swerving onto the shoulder of the road. "Damn it, Rhodey, why didn't you say anything? How's Pete doing? Is he okay?"
"As far as I know your kid's fine, Tony," Rhodey said impatiently. "Or as fine as can be expected given everything that's going on. But look, I'm kinda in the middle of something here, so—"
"Hold on!" cried Tony, flustered. "That big rebrand they did with the Iron Patriot. That was AIM, wasn't it?"
"Yeah? Why?"
Tony gritted his teeth. All the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. "Look. I need to find a place to look some things up about this, so I'll need your login."
Rhodey let out a heavy sigh. "Tony—"
"Now, Rhodes!" Tony yelled, slamming his palm on the steering wheel. "I don't have time to argue with you!"
"It's the same as it's always been. WARMACHINE68."
"Thank you," Tony said as he eased back onto the highway. "And the password?"
"Look, Tony, I have to change it every time you hack in, so—"
"It's not the eighties, no one says 'hack' anymore, Rhodey. Just give me the damn password!"
"WARMACHINEROX, with an 'X', all caps."
Tony couldn't help but laugh. "That is so much better than Iron Patriot."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Hey, if you talk to Rogers again, tell him to tell Pete that I'm close. It shouldn't be too much longer now. Okay?"
"It would mean a lot more if you told him that yourself, Tony," said Rhodes.
"I know," Tony said, his throat tightening. "I know it would. But I can't. If I talk to him now I'll just lose my focus, and I can't afford that. Not right now. I'm too close, Rhodey."
"Whatever, Tony. But after all this is over, I'm ordering you to take a long vacation. You, Pepper, and Peter. Understand?"
Tony sniffed. The last time he tried to take a vacation he ended up getting attacked by a lunatic wielding arc reactor-fueled whips who was hell-bent on vengeance for his dead father.
"Yeah, sure."
"I mean it, Tony!"
"Yeah. I'll talk to you later," Tony said.
"Hey. Good luck," said Rhodes.
"Thanks, Rhodey."
Setting down the phone, Tony pursed his lips as he drove back towards town. The press had descended on the scene of the destroyed water tower like a plague of locusts, and Tony was hoping against hope that some of the broadcast vans would still be around.
Sure enough, the scene of the crime was still clogged with reporters and news vans. After a brief interlude where he was inundated with hero-worship from some dude named Gary, who really needed to move out of his mother's basement, Tony was able to use the van's satellite connection to break into AIMs files using Rhodey's information.
"All right," Tony muttered to himself as the file started downloading, filling the screen with head shots of soldiers, all of whom had missing limbs. "Let's see what'cha got."
"Project Extremis," came a voice from the speakers that sounded eerily familiar. Tony barely had a second to try and remember where he could've heard it before as the blond profile of a very well-dressed and robustly-healthy Aldrich Killian appeared on the screen.
Holy shit, Tony thought, his blood pressure plummeting. It's the guy from Switzerland.
Apparently that conference in Bern had been more fateful than Tony had ever come to realize. For not only did he meet and become acquainted with Maya Hansen on that New Year's Eve, 1999, that had also been the first time he'd met Ho Yinsen, who was responsible for saving his life after he was attacked in Afghanistan and who helped him escape from the cave, at the cost of his own life.
And then, there was also Aldrich Killian.
Tony had been on his way, with Maya in tow, up to Maya's hotel room so she could show him her research, which turned out to be the initial version of Extremis. Maya had asked Tony to help her with a problem she'd been having with stabilization, and, after they had spent the night together, had scribbled something on the back of his conference name tag and left it for her to find, and then left without a second glance.
But before he and Maya had even made it to the elevator, they had been approached by a limping, crippled Aldrich Killian, waving two business cards in the air with his one good arm, blathering on and on about his new think tank that was going to revolutionize the world. In an effort to get rid of him Tony had taken him aside, promising to meet him up on the roof of the hotel in a few minutes time to discuss his ideas.
Of course, Tony had never intended to follow through with his promise. He'd had other things on his mind that night that had nothing to do with talking to cripples about their think tanks.
And because of that, he'd created yet another demon.
"So, as you can see," continued Killian as the camera followed him into a laboratory, where three people were strapped down onto vertical stretchers. "We've brought the test subjects here for their injections. These brave men and women who've decided to not allow their injuries to ruin their lives."
Tony blinked as the woman who'd attacked him in the bar the other night appeared on the screen, a soldier by the name of Ellen Brandt who'd lost her left arm in the line of duty. As he watched, his eyes widening by the second, Killian injected something into her attached IV line that immediately caused her skin to glow orange, almost like it was on fire. And in the span of less than thirty seconds, her left arm had completely regrown.
The same process was repeated as Killian went down the line. But then something appeared to go wrong. The third and final man was given the Extremis injection just the same as his colleagues, and his amputated lower leg started to regrow. But where the reaction had been somewhat steady in the previous soldiers, here it seemed more volatile, and a lot more painful. The man's face became consumed with flame only a few seconds later and Killian, shouting over the man's screams of anguish, had to order the room evacuated.
They managed to clear out just in time before the dude exploded.
Tony leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, tapping his chin. The Mandarin attacks had been difficult to trace because there were never any visible bomb parts found at the sites of the explosions. But, if it was one of these soldiers who was exploding, there wouldn't be any bomb parts to find because technically, it wasn't a bomb.
"A bomb's not a bomb when its a misfire," Tony mumbled, a slight smile gracing his face. "This stuff doesn't always work, does it. The glitch is still a glitch."
But apparently the Mandarin didn't mind about the glitch. In fact, he probably encouraged it by deliberately overdosing the poor schmucks who caused the explosions. And Killian, well, he probably didn't care who he sold the Extremis to, as long as they could pay the big bucks for it.
Carefully shutting down the program, Tony exited the van and headed back to the car. Harley had finally been able to hook the Mark 42 up to their newly built power source, and Tony wanted to check on its progress.
"Harley? Tell me what's happening," Tony said as he pulled onto the main road.
"Yeah, I'm still eating that candy you got me," Harley replied, his voice a bit wobbly. "You want me to keep eating it?"
"How much have you had?"
"Two or three bowls."
"Can you still see straight?"
"Sorta."
"Then you're fine. Give me JARVIS," Tony said, tapping the steering wheel. "JARVIS, how are we?"
"It's totally fine, sir," JARVIS said. "I seem to do quite well for a stretch, and then suddenly I say the wrong cranberry."
Huh? "What the—?"
"But sir, you were right. Once I factored in AIM downlink facilities, I was able to pinpoint the Mandarin's broadcast signal."
"All right, where we talking? Far East? Pakistan? Eastern Europe? Where is it?"
"It's in Miami, sir," JARVIS replied.
"What? As in, Miami, Miami? Miami, USA? Which one?"
"It is Miami, sir."
That makes absolutely no sense at all. "Okay, Harley. I'll have to walk you through rebooting JARVIS's speech drive some other time, but right now I need you to look at the screen. Where's this guy, really?"
"It really does say Miami, Florida," Harley said.
Holy shit, that's way too close for comfort. Having this asshole be even on the same coastline as Peter was definitely not okay. Tony's palms started to sweat and he inhaled deeply, trying to keep his breathing even.
"Okay, first things first," he said. "Where are we at with charging the armor?"
"Um, it's not charging," said Harley.
Goddamnit! Tony thought as a massive wave of terror hit him straight in the chest. Gulping, Tony slammed on the brakes, the tires of the Audi squealing as he peeled off onto the side of the road.
"Actually, sir, it is charging," JARVIS said, as if to reassure him. "But the power source is questionable. It may not be successful in revitalizing the Mark 42."
"What is questionable about electricity?" Tony snapped, breathing in through his nose as his heart rate grew faster and faster. "Kid, I need my suit. I can't help them if I don't have it, and—"
Oh please, not again!
Stumbling out of the car, Tony fell to the ground, his clenched fists pressed against his chest.
"Tony?" asked Harley. "Are you having another attack?"
"I can't help Pepper and my son if I don't have my suit!" Tony cried, his chest aching so badly it felt like it was going to split open. Was this what one of Peter's asthma attacks felt like? "I need—, I need the armor. I can't get this guy without it, and he's not even—. There's something out there that's even worse, and—. What am I gonna do?"
"Listen, just breathe," Harley said over the phone. "Just, keep breathing. You're not Iron Man to your son, you're just his dad, right? And you're a mechanic, you said. Right?"
Breathing is easier said than done! "Yeah, I suppose."
"Well, then why don't you just build something?" said Harley matter-of-factly.
Hmm. Maybe that's not such a bad idea. I am good at building somethings.
"Yeah, okay," Tony said a few seconds later, relieved as his heart rate started to level out. "Yeah, that's a good idea. I can do that. Thanks, kid."
One good thing about being in a rather small town was that it seemed as though Tony was a bit less recognizable than he was at home. People who normally would be poking their friends and gaping at him in New York or Malibu didn't even give him a second glance as he wandered through the local hardware store, filling two entire carts full of supplies that he brought back to Harley's garage.
A few hours later, armed with several non-lethal explosive devices, a homemade shocking glove, a taser, a new and improved potato gun, and a pair of binoculars, Tony loaded his weapons into the car and headed south, driving towards Miami.
It was time to end all of this.
Cold.
Why's it so cold in here? Daddy? Are you there? I'm really cold. Can I come and cuddle with you so I can get warm?
I think I need another haircut, Daddy. My hair's getting in my eyes again and it itches.
Daddy? Are you there? Why's it so cold in here?
My arms hurt, Daddy, and I don't know why. My hands are tingling, I must've slept on them funny.
I can't see. I think I lost my glasses again, Daddy. I'm sorry.
Daddy? Are you there? I'm scared, it's really dark in here. Why's it so dark in here? Where'd all the little lights go?
Daddy? I don't feel so good. Where are you?
Daddy? Where are you? Please help me, I need you!
Please? I'm scared!
Where are you?
Holy shit this is uncomfortable, Tony thought as consciousness slowly creeped back into his being, immediately activating his pain receptors and flooding his body with yet another rush of endorphins. His left eye was throbbing and bleeding down his cheek, leaving a dry and sticky mess. His head felt like someone was pounding it with a hammer, and his wrists, still chafed raw from those damn handcuffs, felt like they'd been blowtorched as he realized he was zip-tied to a very uncomfortable metal bed frame.
Well, at least he was vertical. Which was about the only semi-positive thing he could contemplate at that particular moment.
As his eyes gradually sharpened their focus, Tony glanced around, noting that he appeared to be trapped in a dank basement lab of some sort, crude as it was. And Maya Hansen was across the room, typing something at a computer station next to a glass tank that contained a large green plant.
Tony breathed in as he tested the strength of the ties around his wrists, trying to ignore the pain in his head. What was Maya Hansen doing here? She obviously wasn't the Mandarin.
And where the hell was Pepper?
"Just like old times, huh?" Maya said as she slowly turned to face him, her words dripping with sarcasm.
"You know, I never really liked zip ties," Tony said, even as he continued to yank fruitlessly against the bonds. "Cut into the skin a bit too much for my taste."
"You know, it didn't have to come down to this—"
"So, what, you were so desperate for a solution to your little problem that you decided to become part of Killian's harem?" Tony spat out. "I thought you were smarter than that!"
"I only took his money!" Maya retorted, gingerly touching the jagged cut above her left eyebrow.
"And yet here you are, all these years later, working in a dungeon—"
"No, you're in a dungeon," snapped Maya. "I'm free to go." Pushing herself away from the computer desk, she walked over to one of the square windows. "A lot's happened in these years, Tony. And I'm so close with my work. Extremis is practically stable!"
"Practically?" cried Tony. "And I'm telling you that it isn't! Killian's got this stuff on the streets, and people are just going 'boom'! They're painting the walls, Maya! And you're just kidding yourself if you're choosing to ignore it!"
"Then help me figure it out!" she exclaimed, thrusting an old, yellowed card in front of his face that read 'You Know Who I Am' in his own handwriting. Tony immediately recognized it as his name tag from that fateful night in Switzerland.
"What the hell—?"
"This," she said, turning the card to reveal three smudged lines of complex mathematical equations, written out with a shaky hand.
"What's that? Did I do that?" Tony asked.
"Yes," answered Maya, rather impatiently.
"I was pretty trashed that night, so my memory might be a bit… fuzzy. Is this really why you've been chasing me around all this time?"
Maya's shoulders sagged and her face fell. "You don't remember?"
"Nope. Can't help ya," Tony said, watching as she stepped back from him with pursed lips. "But you know, from what I remember, you used to have ideals, and a conscience. All that stuff you told me that night in Bern, all your grandiose dreams about how you wanted to help people. Now look at you. What the hell happened to that Maya?"
"That's still me," Maya protested. She bit her bottom lip. "I never meant for—"
"Like hell!" cried Tony. "If that's still you, then where the hell's Pepper, huh? What, did you just dump her off somewhere? Was she a hindrance to your own personal vendetta?"
"Tony—"
But whatever Maya was planning to say was interrupted by the sound of heavy footfalls descending a concrete staircase. "Well, well, well," came the smug voice of Aldrich Killian. "Looks like our boy's finally awake."
"You know, you really do look like a pimp, Killian," Tony sneered as Killian came into view. "You're not still pissed off about the Switzerland thing, are you?"
Killian set his briefcase down on the table, turning to Tony with a sly grin. "How could I be pissed at you, Tony? I'm actually here to thank you."
"Thank me?"
"Yes! You gave me the greatest gift that anyone has ever given me. Desperation. If you think back to that night in Switzerland, you said you'd meet me on the rooftop, right?"
"I was drunk off my ass—"
"Well, for the first twenty minutes or so, I actually thought that you'd show up. Silly me, right? And then, after about an hour, I contemplated for a while taking that one big shortcut step to the lobby. But then, I looked up at the sky, and all the fireworks going off, and realized that no one even knew I was there. And I had a thought that would guide me for years to come."
"Oh? And what was that?"
"Anonymity, Tony. You gave me the idea to hide behind something so terrifying, that no one would even think to look in my direction until it was too late. I mean, really. Ever since that big dude with the hammer just sort of fell out of the sky, subtlety has kind of had its day. Wouldn't you agree?"
Can't really argue too much with that. "Okay, so then what's next for you in your little world of anonymity? I mean, I can understand maybe hiring a body double, or something to that effect. But hiring a drug-addicted, second-rate actor to play a role while you hid behind him? I mean, that's just—"
"Brilliant?" interrupted Killian, winking. "Is that what you meant to say, Tony?"
"No. What I meant to say was 'cowardly'," Tony shot back. "You're a coward, Killian. Plain and simple. No wonder Pepper wouldn't give you the time of day."
"Well, I guess we'll see about that," said Killian as he lifted a sleek silver case onto the counter. "Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I wanted to repay you, Tony, with the same gift you so graciously gave me. Desperation."
Taking three silver-colored marbles from the case, Killian rubbed them between his palms as if they were his lucky dice, shooting Tony an evil smirk as he rolled them across the cement floor. After they came to a stop in a triangular pattern, Killian pointed a remote in their direction and a holographic image started flickering into focus. "Just… take a look at this here, why don't you, and see what you think."
Tony had no idea what he'd been expecting Killian to show him with his little steel balls, but it absolutely was not an image of Pepper, screaming as she lay strapped down on a narrow stretcher, her entire body glowing orange like some sick and twisted human jack-o-lantern. Tony's entire body froze all at once as he choked, blinking in disbelief, his hands straining against the zip ties in yet another desperate attempt to free himself.
"You goddamn sick son of a bitch," Tony croaked, his jaw clenching so tightly his teeth ground together. His hands—already tingling from being tied over his head—went completely numb as his heart started to race, symptoms he was now starting to recognize as another impending panic attack.
No, no, please, not now!
"Feeling desperate yet, Tony?" Killian sneered as he walked a circle around Pepper's image. "Now, this is live, and I'm not sure if you can tell exactly what is happening here, so I'll go ahead and explain it to you."
"You goddamn SICK—"
"Right now her body's trying to decide whether or not to accept the Extremis. This is a very trying and interesting time, but, unfortunately, it also can be very painful. If in the end she decides to accept it, well, then you've seen what my associates and I are capable of." He leaned in, so close that Tony could smell his aftershave, his cheeks glowing in that same toxic orange color. "And if she doesn't, well, then you've also seen what happens when things go wrong. Haven't you, Tony?"
"You're a maniac," Tony whispered.
"No, I'm a visionary," Killian replied as he backed away. "And there's a big difference." Killian smirked as he pointed the remote towards Pepper's image. "And now, thanks to my hard work—and Maya's of course, can't forget her—I have an entire army with which to see that vision to fruition. An army which continues to grow, as you will see… here." He clicked the remote again, and Tony's heart nearly stopped completely at what he saw next.
Getting blown up by his own weapons in Afghanistan had been painful. Having open-heart surgery in a freezing cold cave with minimal anesthesia had been painful. Being slowly poisoned to death by palladium had been painful.
But none of those horrible experiences could even touch how excruciatingly painful the next image was once it blinked into place, searing itself into Tony's brain so deeply there was no way he could ever be rid of it. An almost inhuman sound ripped from Tony's throat and he jumped as if he'd been hit with a cattle prod, the zip ties slicing even deeper into his flesh as he strained against them in vain, then slumped back against the bed frame as his knees gave out.
Peter, his sweet, innocent Peter, was lying crouched in the corner of a darkened, cement-walled, windowless room. From what Tony could see through his panic-fueled rage, Peter was stripped to the waist, barefoot and blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back. His entire small body was shivering, so hard that Tony could make out the sound of his teeth chattering.
Goddamn you, Rogers! How could you let this happen?
"You are the worst fucking type of monster imaginable," Tony managed to choke out between his heaving breaths. "He's just a kid."
"Oh no, I beg to differ," said Killian, that sadistic grin back on his face. "He's not just any kid. He's your kid. But, then again, he's not really even your kid, is he, Tony? Because I'm fairly certain that this particular child has a certain, shall we say, component to his DNA that should make him an excellent candidate for the first trial of Extremis in a minor." He stepped closer, getting directly in Tony's face. "I'm sure you're aware of his true parentage. Aren't you, Tony?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Hmm. You really should do your homework the next time you get the urge to adopt a kid, Tony. I'm quite surprised at you. Someone of your intelligence level should know better."
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Tony screamed, trying to look away from the horrible image of his poor boy writhing in pain and fear right in front of him, but scared to take his eyes off Peter in case he disappeared. "His parents were traitors! They did exactly what you're trying to do!"
Killian let out a laugh, a harrowing sound that echoed off the cement walls and chilled Tony to the bone. "Traitors, patriots, it really depends on who you're asking. I mean, the signers of the Declaration of Independence were called traitors by one nation and patriots by another. It's all just a matter of perspective. No, Tony. Richard Parker was not a traitor, he was a visionary, like me. Unfortunately for him, he failed to acquire the appropriate political support that would've ensured his protection if things went badly. Which they did, in case you weren't aware of that little fact either."
"You GODDAMN SICK—!"
"Oh, and by the way, Tony, the kid can hear you," Killian said, clicking another button on the remote. "So go ahead. Tell him that you'll see him soon, just like you told me. Lie to him, like you lied to me that night in Bern."
"I won't—" Tony stammered, cut off when Killian wrapped his glowing orange hand around his throat.
"Oh, but you will!" Killian rasped into Tony's ear, and Tony heard the click of a gun cocking as the barrel pressed against his bleeding temple. "Or I'll blow your brains out all over the floor."
His lower lip shaking, Tony tried to shake his head, but Killian only his tightened fiery hot grip. "Pete!" he called, his voice raspy from the pressure on his throat. "Pete, it's gonna be okay, buddy. I'm gonna get you outta there as soon as I can, don't you worry."
But to Tony's horror, instead of being comforted by the sound of his voice, Peter curled his little body even further, his head shaking rapidly back and forth as his shivering became even more pronounced. Tears pooled in Tony's eyes and spilled over, running down his cheeks, stinging every scratch and bruise they found in their path.
"What've you done to him?" Tony growled, crying out as Peter's body shuddered and he screamed, trying to hide his head down by his knees.
"I told you that he could hear you, Tony," Killian said, withdrawing the pistol. "I didn't say that what he would hear would sound anything like your own voice."
"YOU GODDAMN SICK SON OF A BITCH!" Tony screamed, squeezing his eyes closed against the wave of pain that followed his outburst.
"Let him go!" Maya Hansen suddenly cried, and Tony peeled his eyes open to see her standing near the staircase, holding some sort of needle contraption to her neck. "This has gone too far, Killian. You never said anything about bringing in a kid—"
Killian sucked in a sharp breath, looking rather annoyed as he turned to face the distraught scientist. "Maya, what do you think you're doing?"
"You never said anything about bringing in a kid," Maya repeated, looking like she was close to tears, the injector wobbling in her hand. "We've never tested Extremis in—"
"And so?" said Killian. "We have to start somewhere, Maya. I've made promises to certain people that will require follow-through. What part of this are you failing to grasp?"
"This is 1500 milligrams, Killian!" shouted Maya. "A dose half this size would kill me. You know we haven't worked out all the bugs yet, and—"
But she was cut off as Killian turned back to Tony, winking as he calmly raised his gun and shot Maya in the abdomen. Tony jumped at the loud, unexpected noise and his breath hitched as a new wave of fear threatened to overwhelm him. If anything happened to Peter… he honestly didn't know what he would do.
"I hate distractions, don't you, Tony?" asked Killian, holstering the gun and heading for the stairs. "Always better to get rid of them when you're trying to work. Now, go ahead and get comfortable, if you don't mind. You won't be going anywhere for quite awhile."
My name is Peter Parker Stark. I'm nine years old. I'm in the fourth grade. My best friend is Ned Leeds. I like science and math, and Star Wars, and Legos, and going to Disneyland.
I don't like the dark, or loud, scary voices in the night.
I like building stuff. With my dad. He builds really cool stuff.
Where's my dad? How come he's not here?
Daddy? Where are you? I'm cold and hungry and my arms hurt and it's really dark in here, and I'm scared.
Daddy? Are you there? Please, help me!
Where are you?
"About damn time," Tony muttered as the rest of his armor flew towards him and attached to his body, his abdominals still aching from having to fly around using only one arm gauntlet and one boot during his escape. "Talk to me, JARVIS."
"Yes, sir. Unfortunately, I haven't yet been able to bring the Mark 42's flight boosters to full power. They will require additional electrical charging to reach capacity for any sustained flight."
"Okay, that really sucks, JARVIS," grumbled Tony. "Do you have any good news for me?"
"Colonel Rhodes has currently escaped from his captors and is headed your way."
"Rhodey?" Tony called, looking up towards the sky as the Iron Patriot armor flew overhead.
Great. That's just what we need.
"Here," Rhodes said as he came running towards Tony just as a klaxon alarm began to blare, announcing that Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes had escaped and were loose somewhere on the compound.
"Got any bright ideas on how to get out of here?" Tony asked. Of all the goddamn times to not have any flight power…
"I overhead some of the spooks talking about a speedboat," Rhodes said as he grabbed Tony's elbow. "This way. They're headed to an old oil-drilling platform, and they've got President Ellis as a hostage."
"I don't give a damn about Ellis," Tony barked as they ran towards the marina. "All I care about are Pepper and Peter."
"Oh, God, they've got Peter too?" asked Rhodes with wide eyes. "What a bunch of sick bastards!"
"Just get me there, Rhodes," Tony said firmly as the climbed onto the speedboat, with Tony repulsing one of their pursuers away as Rhodes started the engine.
"We're gonna need some help, Tony," Rhodes said, shooting at another one of the guards without even looking as the boat pulled away from the dock. "It's just the two of us, and that dude Killian's got an entire squadron of those fire-breathing freaks."
"I've just received some good news, sir," JARVIS cut in. "The clean-up crew at the Malibu house has just been able to remove enough debris to uncover the garage."
Tony huffed out a sharp breath; this was the first truly good news he'd gotten in days. "All right then, JARVIS. You know what to do."
"The House Party protocol, sir?"
"You got it."
"What—, what's the House Party Protocol?" Rhodes asked.
"Oh, you'll see," Tony said as he pursed his lips. "You wanted help? Well, we're gonna have it!"
It was dark by the time the speedboat pulled up to the platform. Before Rhodes had even parked the thing Tony was out of the boat and running up the dock that led to the lower levels of the platform, leaving the Mark 42 behind in the boat so it could finish charging.
"Tony!" Rhodey called in a loud whisper, scrambling after him. "Don't you think you should have the suit with you?"
Arriving under one of the overhangs, Tony paused, clutching his side with its still-tender rib that likely hadn't yet had a chance to heal. "Don't worry," he said as his ears picked up the tell-tale sound of his repulsors and he pointed up towards the darkened sky. "Backup's on the way."
Rhodey's eyes widened as he watched all of Tony's suits, what Tony had informally dubbed the Iron Legion, fly up and take surrounding positions around the entire platform.
"So, this is how you've been managing your downtime?" Rhodes asked.
"What downtime?" Tony replied as he stepped into one of the suits, one that he'd codenamed Heartbreaker. All around him he could see the Extremis soldiers, their glowing orange faces looking up at his army of suits. "JARVIS, target Extremis heat signatures and disable with extreme prejudice."
"Yes, sir," came the response, echoing throughout the entire Iron Legion as the suits took off, aiming for the retreating Extremis soldiers.
"What're you gonna do?" asked Rhodes as Tony's mask closed over his face.
"I gotta find Pepper and Pete," Tony said. "Nothing else matters to me. But you should probably go after Ellis."
"Yeah, probably," replied Rhodes.
"Sir, I've located Miss Potts," said JARVIS. "She's being held on level two."
"'Bout time!" Tony exclaimed.
"And Captain Rogers has just arrived," JARVIS added. "He is awaiting instructions."
"Rogers? What the—?"
"Tony," came Rogers' voice over the comm. "I came down as soon as JARVIS told me where you were heading. I can't tell you how sorry—"
"Save it, Cap," Tony snapped. "Just help me find my kid. They've probably got him in one of these rigs."
"That's why I'm here, Tony," Steve answered as his signature shield went flying through the air, taking out one of the sentries stationed three levels up. Tony watched him fall before taking off himself, aiming for the group guarding Pepper one level up.
"Keep in mind, Cap, these Extremis goons are like toxic-orange versions of you," Tony said as one of his mini missiles imbedded itself into the abdomen of another soldier. "You pretty much have to blow them up."
"Copy that!" said Steve with a grunt.
"Hey, someone give Cap a lift up to the top!" Tony commanded. "Rogers, check the upper levels first! I don't want them collapsing if Pete's inside one of 'em!"
A second later one of the suits swooped down, catching Steve mid-jump and carrying him up to the top level. A few seconds later two more of the Extremis soldiers flew over the upper railing, screaming as they fell.
"Don't worry, Tony," Steve said firmly. "I'll find him."
But before Tony could respond, the rig holding Pepper pitched forward, hit by a projectile from one of the suits just as one of the soldiers sliced right through the back of the suit he was wearing, rendering it useless. Tony kicked hard behind him, causing both the suit and the soldier to go teetering off the edge of the platform as he ran towards Pepper, who was dangling precariously from the broken rig.
"Tony!" Pepper shrieked as Tony arrived, panting as he frantically looked around for a way to reach her. The walkway between the two rigs had been blown away, and there was no way he could jump that far without causing Pepper to fall.
"It's okay, honey, I got you!" Tony yelled, reaching his hand out to her. He could see her clinging desperately to the broken remains of a railing, all that was preventing her from falling to the ground.
"Just relax, honey, I got you! But you gotta let go. I'm gonna catch you, but you gotta let go!"
But just as she released the railing and started sliding towards him, the rig was bumped by another Extremis soldier, changing its trajectory. Tony desperately lunged forward, nearly losing his footing as he tried to catch Pepper's hand, his fingertips barely grazing hers as she slipped from his grasp and fell towards the fiery ground.
"Oh God, no!" Tony cried, blinking in shock and horror as he looked a hundred feet down at the blazing fire where Pepper, the love of his life, had disappeared. He'd told her he would catch her. He'd promised!
And he'd failed.
"Pity," came the smug voice of Aldrich Killian as he clomped across the metal walkway, his entire shirtless body glowing orange. "I would've caught her. She was so close to being the perfect woman, Tony. You didn't deserve her."
"You know, you're right," Tony choked out through his parched throat as he turned, advancing towards Killian. "I didn't deserve her. But here's where you're wrong." Stepping into a suit, Tony drew back his fist, hitting Killian's fist dead-on. "She was already perfect."
"Tony, I've found Peter," piped up Steve over the comm. "I'm bringing him down to the ground now."
"How is he? Is he okay?" demanded Tony, dodging another blow from Killian. You goddamn son of a bitch!
"He's in one piece, at least," said Steve. "But he's pretty shaken and scared and he keeps asking for you. I'm trying to warm him up a bit."
"Tell him I'll be right there!" Tony said, just as Killian's fiery hand came down on his helmet, slicing through the gold/ titanium alloy as if it were nothing but aluminum foil. Tony barely had enough time to fall backwards out of the suit before Killian reached his head, the smell of singed hair filling Tony's nostrils.
"The Mark 42 is inbound, sir," JARVIS said suddenly. Tony turned just in time to see his battle-worn, pre-incel suit flying towards him, wobbling slightly as it approached. Tony held his hand out behind him, waiting.
"Wait a second," he mumbled, his mind racing. With a quick shake of his head, Tony swung his arm forward, directing the armor to wrap around Killian instead, pinning him up against one of the rigs. "JARVIS, go ahead and blow the Mark 42."
"With pleasure, sir," JARVIS replied.
Tony felt rather than saw the resulting explosion, too intent on finding a safe way to the ground so he could get to Peter. One of the suits flew up to him, only partially intact, but Tony jumped into it anyway as the entire level started to groan, leaning sideways before bursting into flames as it collapsed. Tony dropped painfully to the ground, wincing and grunting as he rolled to a stop.
"Rogers?" he gasped frantically. "Where you at?"
But before Steve even had time to answer, the blackened, charred body of Aldrich Killian rose up from a pocket of nearby flames and starting stumbling towards Tony. "Anonymity, Tony," he rasped. "It's more valuable than you think! It was always me! All of it was me! I am the—"
And then, to Tony's shock, Killian was hit smack on his badly tattooed chest with a huge white pipe and flung off to the side, his body hitting the roof of one of the adjacent rigs with a sickening squelching noise. Tony looked up to see Pepper, her skin and eyes glowing bright orange, glaring at him as she advanced towards his damaged suit.
"Honey?" Tony asked, backing away slightly. "Are you okay?"
Glancing up at the sky, Pepper growled as she lunged forward, curling her burning arm into the gauntlet of the suit as her foot found a stray missile lying on the ground, kicking it up in the air and blasting it towards Killian with the repulsor, the resulting explosion so jarring Tony felt it in nearly every bone of his body.
Too stunned to move, Tony could only stare at Pepper as she stumbled forward, gasping for breath. "Oh my God," she stammered. "That was really violent!"
"I don't care how violent it was, Pep," Tony said, finally finding his voice. "You just saved all our asses."
Pepper let out a laugh that quickly turned into a sob as she collapsed into a heap on the ground, her slender body shaking and shivering. Slowly, Tony crawled over to her, gathering her into his arms.
"No, don't touch me!" she protested. "I don't wanna hurt you!"
"Shh," Tony murmured, tears springing to his eyes as he stroked her strawberry hair. "You're not gonna hurt me. I thought I'd lost you, Pep."
"I guess I'm just hard to get rid of," Pepper said weakly against his shoulder. "But, Tony, am I gonna be okay?"
"Course you are," Tony said, kissing her temple. "I almost had this stuff figured out back in '99 when I was drunk. I'll be able to get you squared away in no time."
They were quiet for a couple minutes, the crackle of the flames from the dying fires the only sounds until the silence was broken by the blare of an ambulance siren as it approached the platform from the nearby street.
"Tony," Steve's quiet voice suddenly said from behind him, causing Tony to whip around, still clinging to Pepper as his eyes landed on Steve. The Captain's blond hair was singed and his pale face was streaked with soot, and in his arms he was carrying Peter, whimpering and shivering and covered in grime, with his hands covering his face.
Ignoring the protests of his battered body, Tony pushed himself up to his feet with Pepper's help and lurched forward, reaching for his little boy.
"Pete," he choked out, no longer trying to stop the tears from flowing as his arms wrapped around his son, his heart nearly cracking in two when Peter yelped, as if he was in pain. Dropping to his knees on the ground, Tony shifted Peter so his ear was resting against his chest piece. "Pete, it's okay. I've got you. Just listen for the hum, bud. Do you hear it? It means I've got you."
"C—, cold," Peter whimpered, his teeth chattering and his lungs rattling. Tony could see deep marks on his lower lip where he'd bitten down. "D—, Daddy! So c—, cold!"
"Tony," said Steve softly, and Tony swore there were tears in the old man's blue eyes. "Tony, I can't tell you how sorry I am. There were six of them… they came during the night… somehow they were able to get through all of the security… I don't know how—"
"D—, Daddy!" Peter wheezed, his small hands fisting in Tony's shirt and pinching Tony's skin in the process. He had yet to open his eyes. "S—, so dark, and c—, cold!"
"It's okay, buddy," Tony said, curling his fingers into Peter's hair. We're gonna get you warm. Just listen to the hum. I'm here."
"I think he's in shock, Tony," Steve said, backing away as paramedics came running towards them, loaded down with equipment. "You both need to get to a hospital."
I fucking hate hospitals! Tony cried internally. But even he knew he was likely injured badly enough to require medical attention, and he absolutely wanted to make sure that Peter was okay. Or, at least physically okay. He had a feeling it was going to take a lot more than a simple hospital stay to truly help Peter be all right.
"Yeah, fine. But don't you even think about taking him from me," Tony barked at one of the paramedics as he attempted to reach for Peter. "You can do whatever you need to do, but he stays right here. Got it?"
"Daddy!" Peter shrieked, his little fingers digging into Tony's sides as the paramedic covered his small body with a blanket. "Don't leave me! Don't—, don't—, don't let go of me! Please!"
"I'm not letting go of you, Pete," Tony said as he kissed Peter's forehead. He tightened his arms around the boy as Steve and the paramedic helped Tony to his feet, then guided him onto a stretcher. Tony leaned back, careful to keep Peter's ear over his chest piece. "Just listen, bud. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you."
"We need to start an IV and some oxygen, sir," the paramedic said. "The boy is dangerously dehydrated and his blood oxygen level is low."
Tony grimaced, remembering how much Peter hated needles. "Yeah, okay. But get it in on the first try, yeah? Kid doesn't need anymore trauma tonight."
"I will, sir," said the man. Carefully swabbing Peter's arm, he nodded at Tony, who tightened his arms around him.
"Just listen to the hum, Pete," Tony whispered as the the IV needle pierced Peter's skin and he cried out. "Don't think about anything else. I've got you."
"Don't leave me!" Peter whimpered, his small body relaxing against Tony's as the paramedic added a sedative to the newly hung IV fluids and placed oxygen tubes into his nose. "Please? You promised!"
"I won't, Peter," Tony said as he smoothed Peter's matted hair off his forehead. He could tell Peter was fighting hard to stay awake. "It's okay, bud. Go ahead and sleep now. I've got you."
"Stay wi' me," murmured Peter, his words slurred. "Don' leave."
"I'll be right here when you wake up, Pete," Tony whispered. "I promise."
Tony leaned back against the stretcher as Steve and the paramedic started rolling them over to the waiting ambulance, with Pepper following closely behind, her hand resting on Tony's shoulder.
Somehow, they'd all managed to survive this, this insane, personal vendetta by a thoroughly deranged man. And now there was nothing that Tony hoped for more than some peace and quiet, not only for himself, but for Peter and Pepper as well. They all needed to rest, and heal, and grow together as a family.
But Tony knew it was only a matter of time before something else happened. Only a matter of time before some other deranged person, or group of persons, or alien, or… whatever, came along with yet another plan to destroy everything that he held dear. And he'll be damned if he was going to be caught unawares again.
No. Never again, Tony thought, clenching his jaw and tightening his fingers in Peter's hair. No one is going after my family ever again.
Never again.
Whew! I can't wait to see what you guys think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)