Part Two: What Family

Earth 312

Pre-Invasion

Carly was surrounded by darkness. It wasn't that pitch black darkness that encased you like a suffocating suit; no this was the open, lonely darkness that was all around you but still felt so far away. The kind of darkness that left you waiting awake at night, seeing shadows on the walls and monsters at the windows. Carly could see – in the sense that the faint outlines of her limbs, waving frantically to hold onto anything, were visible. Her screams as she fell, tumbling over herself in the strange, damp air, were also very audible.

She reached out as she summersaulted over herself, twisting and turning and flipping backwards and forwards. Tears streamed down her exasperated face as she screamed until she was hoarse, at first not forming words and then calling out for Tony, Pepper, MJ, anyone. She screamed so loud that her throat hurt and her voice came out like a whisper – she screamed so loud that her voice echoed in her ears until it was the only thing she could fully comprehend – the only thing she could ever come to know.

It wasn't like she was actually falling in the darkness, but rather through it. It was like falling through a tunnel; Carly watched helplessly, hopelessly as the darkness surrounded her on all sides, but never actually touched her. It cast its shadow on her and obscured her vision but did not swaddle her, did not capture her. Her flailing limbs didn't reach the darkness, either. It was as if it were waiting just out of her reach, never to be touched but always to be seen.

She didn't pay enough attention to it. She didn't have the time, or maybe she did, but she was too scared. She couldn't stop twisting and turning long enough to calm down and orientate herself or try to think straight. All she knew was that she was falling and sometime, eventually, there had to be a bottom.

Time was impossible to keep track of, not that she tried. Afterwards, after hearing that she only fell for a couple of minutes, she would claim that it felt like hours or days. It was the strangest sense of falling too; it felt real and the wind even blew her hair up and her clothes filled with it like balloons. There was nothing visible pulling her down, either. Maybe gravity? Or maybe something entirely different, something she wouldn't ever understand.

It was a real phenomenon, to be stuck in a position like that, feeling like you were falling forever but not being able to get over that hump in your mind that lets you think. That one thing playing over and over in your head as you're about to die. For Carly, that one thing was her dad, Tony Stark, and how sorry she was for him to have a daughter as terrible as her.

And then the portal opened below her and she was out, back in Peter's apartment with fear and confusion written on her face and the faintest recognition that someone had been calling her name. Someone in the darkness.

Mack broke the door down with his boot. Maybe it was because he was drunk or maybe it was because he didn't care about being nice, he barreled into the apartment like a freight train - and when the only person he saw standing there was some little brown-headed freak, he swung that shotgun-axe hybrid like his life depended on it. No questions asked he swung again after the near miss, the broken glass and water spreading across the floor making it almost impossible to keep his footing.

The man let out a small squeak as he slid across the floor, slipping and landing into the side of the refrigerator. Mack swung again but the little bastard ducked and the axe lodged itself into the wall above his head. Mack grunted and left it there, tackling him as he tried to crawl away.

"Little weasel," Mack grunted, his vision slightly off kilter as they rocked back and forth on the ground like amateurs.

The man underneath him squirmed and looked altogether frightened as he gasped for breath with wide eyes and scrambled to get away. "Okay, okay!" He kept yelling, like Mack would stop to listen. Mack pinned him to the ground like a slippery fish, his strong muscled arms coming to restrain the stranger below him as he cowered as his tears mixed with the glass shards and water under his skin.

"Where's Winter?" Mack demanded, and the kid gave a shaking shrug.

"I don't know – I only have Carly – I swear!" His response was a shocker, if anything. Mack's head spun, and not from the alcohol this time. Tony had entrusted Mack to be her backup bodyguard, should Peter fail to be around. That was why he had installed the perimeter alarms in the apartment and only told Mack about it.

"I can bring her back!" The sudden noise below Mack startled him as he gazed down with wide eyes. "You just have to let me go, man." Mack's grip tightened and his prisoner groaned in pain. "Come on man," he pleaded, and Mack was a little unnerved how desperate his words were. Like a kid begging for that toy they just needed.

Mack found himself letting go, slowly, hesitantly, and hoisting the boy up by his shirt. He left the kid to stand there, shaking and terrified, as he walked slowly over to the wall and freed his gun with pure strength, throwing it up on his shoulder and watching with narrowed eyes.

"Man I don't know what the shit you're talking about," Mack shook his head, letting out a slow breath. "But damn do you look scared. So, we'll make a deal." He lowered the shotgun until it was pointed right at his chest. "You bring Carly back or I'll blow a goddamn hole through you."

He gulped. His eyes were wide with fear as he stared down the barrel of the gun, his hands shaking as they slowly rose. Mack watched carefully, his finger coming to rest firmly on the trigger. He watched as those hands rose further, further, until, finally, they were out in front of the boy's chest and shook with enough might to move a mountain.

And then green. A green deeper, more vibrant than Mack had ever seen. And it was coming from behind him. He spun around – just in time, as Carly came screaming into view and fell onto the floor. Mack raced over to her, kneeling by her side as the portal disappeared and he turned her over. As he looked up, the boy was gone.

Now there was a decision: go look for the mysterious kidnapper or check in on Carly? Mack chose Carly, fearing that if he didn't he'd have to deal with the wrath of Tony Stark. Man, that guy did some crazy things to keep his daughter safe.

"Carly. Carly, hey," Mack spoke gently, laying his gun down so that he could grab her with both hands and help her up. Her whole entire body was shaking, her sobs wracking her body in a one-two beat. Her hair was wind-blown and all over the place, her skin red and blotchy from crying. As they made eye-contact and Carly began to cry with the joy of suddenly realizing she wasn't falling, Mack could see the fear in her eyes and how deep inside of her it really stretched.

"Carly, you okay?" Obviously not. A stupid thing to ask, but it was funny how it was the first thing that came to his mind. She steadied herself with the help of the kitchen counter, her bare feet crunching on the glass as she shifted her weight and nodded her head vacantly.

"It's okay," Mack tried to comfort her, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. "I'll call your dad and he'll be home by the morning. You can stay at my place for the night."

Carly took a minute to respond, but eventually she shook her head. Her eyes pressed closed and she forced uneven breaths through her nose and she struggled to calm her racing heart.

"No," she whispered, her voice scratchy and broken, "I don't want to interrupt his visit to Wakanda. I've already caused enough problems—"

"Carly, I don't really think you getting abducted can be considered you causing another problem." Mack stepped to her side at the counter and tried to look her in the eyes. "Trust me, Tony would want to come home." She finally turned her head to meet his gaze with fire and fury.

"You don't get it," she spat at him, her nails scraping against the countertop forcefully, but she didn't flinch. "I trapped them over there. They're over there because of me. I did this. I-I-I—" She began to cry again and Mack scooped her up into a comforting hug. She clung to his alcohol scented shirt like her life depended on it, and Mack wondered just what had happened to her on the other side of that wall of green.

He rubbed her back gently, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this small girl in his arms, crying like a babe, was responsible for sentencing five people to possible death. Sure, it hadn't been her idea, but she was the one at the controls, egging them on…

"We all make mistakes," he found himself saying, nodding along with his words as he spoke. "That's why we're a team – so that when we make those mistakes, we can fix them. Together." Carly stopped crying shortly after he started to speak, and listened intently to his words. "So let me call Tony, and he'll help us figure out what to do."

Carly pulled away from his embrace, her face set and oddly calm given what she had just been through. Again, despite his brief speech, she shook her head. Her mind was made, and Mack could see that there was absolutely no changing it.

"What he's doing in Wakanda is more important than whatever's going on here." She made eye contact with him again, her gaze powerful and fierce. If Mack were any other man, he would have been scared. "We need to get them back. We…he needs to find a way to build another portal. And that requires Vibranium, so he needs to be in Wakanda. And he needs to stay there." She pushed off from the counter, walking across the glass-ridden floor with ease and coming back with her phone. "I'll call Dad because I can get him to stay – I already know where the safe house is. You call Peter and let him know that he and the fam can't come home tonight."

Was Mack about to take orders from Carly Stark? You sure as hell bet.

She called him from the safe house. The phone rang twice before Tony picked up, his voice distracted and his attention obviously elsewhere.

"What's up?" He asked, his voice quickly fading. She heard him mutter more words and it became apparent to her that he was talking to someone else. He was probably doing something very important. Carly nodded to herself – securing in her mind that he needed to stay in Wakanda. He's got important work to do. He's a genius, I can't be distracting him.

"I'm at the safe-house," Carly said like it wasn't important, rubbing her face and holding the phone away so she could let out a shaky breath. She heard Tony's mutterings quickly stop and then his voice was crisp and clean on the other line.

"What? What happened? I'll be right there." She could hear his heavy footfalls as he began to run, and she could picture him waving people out of his way as he did anything to accomplish his goal. She was quick to dissuade his panic.

"No, Dad, just stay in Wakanda. Everything's fine here." Tony scoffed on the other line but she could hear his fast pace slowing.

"Everything's fine?" He quoted her, disbelief clear in his words. "You're in the safe house Carly, for God's sake…" He trailed off but Carly could invasion him running a hand down his face as he shook his head, his eyes filled with so many emotions that he just looked busy – too busy for her. But still, he cared enough to start running just at her announcement.

"Its fine, Dad, really." Carly sighed as she hung onto the curtain, slowly drawing it closed over the window as she prepared her story. "Just one of your rabid fans, is all." She forced a breath of laughter, almost hearing the confusion through the other line. The lie came easily to her, and she couldn't decide if she was proud or ashamed. "He saw you through the window, somehow, I don't know. I guess he didn't see you leave so he snuck in at night for an autograph. Scared the living shit out of me." She was bored, cool. At least that was how it sounded—like she was mad at Tony for being famous.

"Everyone's okay?" His words came after a pause, probably him trying to decide if she was being truthful. Carly nodded her head as she sat on the couch and pulled her legs into herself. Her eyes began to glaze as she let out more words in her annoyed tone.

"Yea. I was home alone with Winter because Peter was out with MJ and the kids. As soon as she heard noise she hid in the closet like Sasha taught her too. Mack was there pretty quick though. I gotta say – setting up perimeter borders and not telling anyone? Asshole move." That's what she would have believed. Any other day. With all of her heart she would have hated her father for installing another stupid thing that just closed her off from the world even more. One more stupid excuse from Tony like 'I'm doing it to keep you safe,' or 'Trust me Carly, just trust me.' She would have rolled her eyes and screamed at him, begged him to let her be normal or to just quit it with all the extra shit. But not after tonight.

For the first time in her entire life, Carly saw through her father's perspective. The horrifying encounter she had just been through…the only thing that had spared her of her life had been Tony's decision to install those perimeter alerts. Without them Mack never would have come, and Carly might still be stuck in the darkness. It made her shudder, and want to cry. Out of fear, mostly, but also because of that giant light that had just exploded inside of her, and now suddenly she saw all those years with Tony as a blessing more than a curse. He really had just been trying to keep her safe. And, wrong or right, maybe it had worked. Maybe he had ruined her life – but maybe, just maybe, he had saved it, too.

"I'm not saying sorry for that," his voice was defensive on the other line and Carly quickly felt the urge to cry spring onto her once more. She quickly wiped her nose and tried not to sniff as she made herself stay in character.

"Yea, well Mack told me to go to the safe-house anyway, so here I am. Peter is staying with the others at a different location until further notice." She held the phone away again as she let out a long, shaky breath, bringing it back to her ear just as Tony started to speak.

"That's great. Look, I don't have to be here for construction, I can head home in a few hours. Morning at most." Carly knew he was being serious, she was just as sure of that as she was sure of hearing the stress and tiredness in his voice. She hit her leg with her fist as she forced herself to roll her eyes.

"Just stay there, wouldn't you?" She snapped, never feeling worse in her life about having attitude to her father. She was scared, the type of scared that made her feel like a little kid. And little kids stop being scared with their parents around, especially if one of said parents is Iron Man. It killed her inside to hear him try, to say that he'd come home for her, and for her to have to sit there and tell him off for it. She couldn't remember the last time Tony had offered to come home early, to postpone work, for anybody, let alone her.

Tony was surprised. "No really, I can be there by the morning. I promise." She knew those words had just spread fuel to her fiery façade.

"I'm not a little kid!" She retorted, shouting into the phone like a maniac. "God, just lay off for once! I told you I'm fine, I don't need my dad around watching my every move. You've ruined enough of my life; can't you just take your weird ass fans and stay away for once?" The other line was silent. Maybe I took it too far. Carly didn't know what to think anymore. Her life had gone from lonely party-girl to messed-up abductee overnight. She had cried her soul out and yelled more than the average insane person would in their entire life, and, quite frankly, she was worn out.

"Shay, the Rogers… they need you to fix my mistake. So just… just call me when you're done." She didn't want to think about whether or not her words hurt Tony. She knew they did. His lack of response was enough to explain it all. So, as she hung up on him and threw the phone across the room, the tears began to fall again, but this time they stung with fear and regret.

"You what?" The low voice cut through the air like a knife. The words traveled as if they were meant to maim and scar, lashing out like a whip, stinging his back as he knelt in front of the man with bowed head.

They were in a different room now, one of grandeur and elegance. Ornate drapes cascaded around them like jaded silk. Expensive tapestries of suffering people and broken cityscapes looked down at him as he surrendered to subordination. And in the middle of it all sat a great throne, forged from pure gold and placed atop two stairs of sculptured jade. The great chair towered above him, its golden features shining brightly in the abundance of light. The back of the chair extended upward until it broke off into two long serpents, their heads bowing down in a horrible fashion of snarling and fangs. The arms ended in howling souls, the outline of people suffering; their mouths hung open in eternal agony. Mortals, his capturer had once called them.

"I let the girl back out." Roman's voice paled in power to man perched on the throne, his sentence falling limp almost as soon as he spoke it. He dared not look up, or any other direction than downward as he tried his best not to shake and shiver. Despite the warmness spreading from the terrible room, the man in in front of him exuded a coldness that chilled Roman to his core.

The man leaned forward, his bony fingers wrapping around the armrests as he slowly licked his lips and closed his eyes out of annoyance. One by one the seconds passed and Roman could feel the man's gaze boring into him. "And why, if I might ask, would you ever do something so blatantly against what I've ordered?"

Roman's knees hurt. His back ached from being bowed over, but he didn't dare move. A deep panic flickered in the base of his stomach, slowly spiraling through his body until it consumed him and raged into a fire. His breaths threatened to turn shallow as he froze with fear and was unable to form any resemblance of words.

The man stood up, causing Roman's eyes to shut with worry. He could hear the distinct footsteps as he strutted down the gentle incline from his throne. A quiet, drawn out show of power, meant to scare him – and it did. It terrified Roman to his very soul. And then the man was directly in front of him and Roman blinked open his eyes only to stare at a pair of black boots.

"I hate coming down to your kind's level," the man sighed, pure disgust written in the atmosphere as he spoke. "But sometimes, it's necessary." The boots slowly retreated and Roman let out a puff of air, eagerly in taking more before the dramatic continued.

"Roman, Roman, Roman," the chanting of his name was soft, and Roman was reminded of his first few weeks of captivity, when he believed in the gentleness of the man's tone and yearned to hear it. He believed the lies that spewed from his wretched mouth and he took comfort in his disguised hell. There was a quick sound off to his right, a sharp slap that caused Roman to flinch. Then there was a pulling sensation in the back of Roman's head, like a string was tied to the base of his skull and was being tugged.

"Look," the command came with a harsh jerk, the invisible string yanking Roman's head to the right as his eyes came to meet his supposed parents, chained to the wall with blank stares on their grey faces. Molly's cheek had a fresh red mark staring to grow, spreading over her gentle face as she looked onward like a blank canvas. There was absolutely no life in her eyes, no cries for help or silent pleads. They were both still. Like statues. He had done that. He had just wiped them clean and used them like puppets. The man knelt down on one knee, grabbing her face and turning it towards Roman.

"I told you what would happen if you failed me," He studied the woman's face, not looking at Roman as he traced the red mark with his thumb. His tongue clicked disapprovingly as he brought himself to a standing position once more, a small blade growing into his hand through some sort of magic that Roman didn't understand. His heart sank into his stomach, his eyes widening as he cried out.

"No! Please, no! I couldn't bring her back! We were interrupted!" The man froze, blade raised as Roman bargained for the woman's life. His head cocked quizzically, his hand never dropping.

"By whom?"

Roman shook his head, his teary eyes searching the blank faces of the couple frantically as he remained hunched. "I-I don't know. But I had her, I had her," he pleaded, crying out again as the man rose his blade further. "No! No, no. Okay. Okay. There –there was this man who came barging in. He-he had this knife gun thing and-and he tackled me and I had to give her up so I could get out alive." His chest heaved with the weight of the truth, his lungs yearning for more than he could provide.

The man turned to him slightly, angling his body so that shadows played twisted games on his face. "And if I were to take the intruder out of the picture, you wouldn't fail me again?" He asked slowly, a smile twisting its way onto his mouth in the most sickening gesture Roman had ever seen. He continued to shake.

He had only agreed to get Carly Stark in the first place to save lives. Now this man was going to take one either way? Roman had thought he was being smart. Sure, he had been tricked into doing the dirty work, but he was ensured Molly and Jack's safety. But now, he realized, he had fallen right into the trap. Roman had never been playing the game; he was the game.

"Well?" There was an essence of time loss about the air, a threat to Roman's decision making. His mind spun, his whole body felt drained and used up as he looked helplessly at the pictures of tortured people around him. Eventually his head bowed, his eyes closing with pure regret as he grimaced and disappointed himself yet again.

"Yes."

There was no more sound, and as Roman looked up the man was gone and Molly stared blankly at him, a fresh cut tracing from her eye to her chin like a stray tear.

Carly had fallen asleep on the couch, her body pressed into itself as she shivered from invisible coldness and twitched from fears hidden in her dreams. The fabric pressed lines into her red and puffy face, her eyes spinning like discs under their lids. Her phone lay in the corner, screen cracked and battery slowly dying.

Her mouth hung open, moving ever so slightly with unknown words. Her jaw fractioned itself open and closed, her voice like a barely audible plea for help.

The darkness surrounded her. Green tinged her vision but altogether evaded her; a subtle invitation to a game of cat and mouse. It goaded her, laughing at her failure to find it. The wind whipped her hair and stung her face as she screamed, tumbling over and over again in her perpetual fall. The tears that escaped her eyes were sent flying upwards, her breath caught in her throat as the air both forced itself into her lungs and altogether avoided her.

But something was there. Something in the darkness. Her eyes, wide with fear, sparkled as she called for it.

"Who's there? Who's there?" Like an owl's hoot she repeated herself, her call not frantic but born of utter curiosity. The fall scared her more than the feeling of another presence. The journey downward felt long and evil, but her obscured companion radiated something different. Something lighthearted and kind.

Carly's leg twitched like a dog's as her mouth continued its rant. She turned her head, pressing it further into the cushion as her body moved with her.

"Who's there?" She called out groggily, voice barely audible as sleep consumed her and the feeling of falling became relentless.

"Carly."

Her eyes shot open as she sat up, her heart opening its way to a faster beating, labored breaths catching raggedly in her throat as she coughed and gripped the couch with white knuckles.

Mack sighed as he sunk into his couch for the second time that night. Though, he supposed it was actually the morning. He no longer had an aching for alcohol, as he was rather ashamed that being intoxicated had fucked him up so bad. In the strange turn of events from the hours prior, Mack was still in disbelief that he hadn't called Tony Stark.

"It was the right thing to do," he mumbled to himself, thinking of Carly and what she had said. "He's needed over there." Still, it troubled him immensely and he sat forward, resting his head heavily in his hands. Had he been a little earlier, could he have prevented Carly ever getting captured? Was that even what it was? Carly had refused to tell him anything about it, leaving him to his own imagination. All he knew was that she was more scared than he had ever seen anyone, and he was lying to Tony Stark. If he ever found out, Mack was a dead man.

And finding Winter in that closet, scared and shaking and covering her ears. Man, Mack was just more and more convinced that Sasha should have never left. It was putting Mack between a rock and a hard place, all these people reaching out to him to do stuff because he was the least busy. Newest member of the team – sure, they trusted him, but he wasn't quite to any real level of importance yet.

A heavy sigh left his lips just as there was a knock at his door. Mack grunted, checking the time as he got up to answer it. I swear, if Carly's out of that damn safe house… she was smart about it. She left right away, wouldn't even tell Mack where it was. He figured that was for the best, Carly used to be a good kid, or so he had heard, but all he ever saw around her was tears and unhappiness. Best to stay as far away from a girl like that as possible. Granted, he did feel a twinge of guilt upon seeing her horrified expression, realizing that she was just a kid.

Just a kid who's up to a nonstop rampage of trouble, he thought to himself as he swung the door open, his head turning in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" He asked gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest as the man before him smirked savagely.

"I thought we might have a little chat," he shrugged, motioning past Mack and looking into his apartment. "May I?" Mack sighed, eyeing him warily. But he moved anyway, closing the door softly behind them.

The man traced his fingers across the table, bringing them up to his face to examine them. "Your place could use a good dusting, my friend." Mack leaned against the doorway completely stone-faced. His strong arms threatened to rip out of his shirt as he crossed them over his broad chest, his eyes digging holes into his early morning visitor.

"Man, I don't need your trouble," he gruffed, "so why don't you say what you want and get out." An unsettling smirk crossed his features as he looked at Mack with a dark gaze.

"It's a shame, about Carly, isn't it?" Mack felt the surprise hit him like a freighter, but refused to show how it affected him.

"Nice girl like her really shouldn't have any reason to be in your vocabulary," Mack stated, his posture rising ever so slightly. There was something off in the air, and he could feel it. The man shook his head with a small bout of laughter.

Then his gaze turned sour. "I hear you're the only other person who was there that night." Mack instantly knew what was about to happen. He stood up, casually glancing sideways to the floor under his couch.

"I think you should leave," he said, inching closer to the desired area but never looking away from his soon to be attacker.

"But I only just go here," the man protested, a wicked glint hidden in his eyes and he folded his hands behind his back. "Or wait, is that right?"

A chill wound itself down Mack's body at those words. His head tilted, barely a degree, as he took another step over. "What is that supposed to mean?" He asked, rather as a form of distraction than anything, but suddenly feeling rather curious for the answer.

"Well, you see," he began, the Devil's smile on his face, "In this form I can't actually touch things. So, I don't actually know if you need to dust, though it would appear so. It also means," the man's image faltered, fizzing out like a mirage. Mack's head snapped side to side, his eyes going wide. And then there was this awful pressure through his abdomen and his gaze cast down to see a long blade being shoved through it. He sunk to his knees as the man followed him, bending over to whisper into his ear.

"I had to knock from inside."

Mack felt the blood come rushing up his throat as he coughed, spraying it everywhere. Behind him, the man stood up and rolled his eyes. "Pathetic."

His whole world was going dark, a trail of bloody saliva dripping from his lip as he held the blade with one hand and felt the floor with the other. He had landed just next to the couch, almost exactly where he needed to be. If only he could reach…

"You really put a damper on the night's festivities," the voice rang from above him, but Mack could recognize that he was facing away, his back turned to where Mack struggled on the floor, reaching desperately for his last salvation.

"When I heard that you – of all people!" He broke off into a disbelieving laugh, examining Mack's décor distastefully as he paced around the room. "You were the one thing that came in between me and my victory tonight. I was very disappointed." There was a brief pause, Mack inched his hand further.

"But, I was promised that with you out of the picture, everything could go back to normal. Now, with you gone, I'll have what I've been searching for." There was another bought of laughter. "For over a thousand years! I know; it's hard to imagine something like that as a human. But, believe me, the satisfaction will be rewarding. It might take Carly a couple of tries, maybe, but she'll do it. After all, she's a rather dedicated gal, don't you think?"

Mack was confused. He tried to listen to what he was hearing, but his attention was torn between being able to hear it, and being able to make sure he could repeat the story after he killed the bastard. The world swung around him, and Mack had to divert his attention even further by trying to focus on breathing. It's just a choice. Choose life. Choose life.

"And then all I had to do was think about how I was going to kill you. Should I wait? No, no, no. I've waited long enough. Should I try to make it look like an accident? Like you killed yourself? The thought did cross my mind. But that required far too many variables. What if you didn't land right? What if, what if, what if." Mack's hand closed around the cool metal and his eyes closed in thankfulness. It was heavier than he remembered.

"I know!" The man barked feverishly behind him. "I'm the evil maniac giving you my monologue. It's a bit pretentious, I'll admit, but spending all these years hiding what I've been after… It feels good to just talk to someone. And you're going to die anyway, so, why not?" Mack gently pulled the gun closer, edging it inch by inch. He could barely see it. He could barely see anything anymore.

"And now that Roman's touched her, now that she's embedded within him, it'll be a matter of hours before I have her location once more. And then in a short while, well, bliss." Mack's mind raced, but it was running on a loop. He was a hamster stuck on its' wheel.

The man turned to face him, sighing softly. He gazed down at his hand, watching as ice grew around it until his hand became incased in an icy blade. "Put that gun away, agent Mackenzie." He knelt behind Mack once more, his free hand grasping the back of his neck as his other hand came to rest in front of his face.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He whispered, twisting his hand gently, the ice glittering faintly in the soft light. Mack's eyes were trained on it, his hand still clasped around the gun from where it lay in his lap, covered in blood from his dripping wound.

"I used to be ashamed of this, can you believe it? I thought my father a monster. Now I see he was just a man of many talents." Mack couldn't close his eyes. It was like they were being held open by some invisible force. He felt hollow inside, like everything that made him the man he was had been ripped out. The last thought that ran through his mind was a simple one. I should have called Tony. And then the blade was plunged through the bottom of his jaw, not stopping until it sprouted from the top of his skull.

Tony had been visiting Shuri on her sickbed when Carly had called him. He had quickly excused himself, conversing quietly with the guards for a quiet place to handle what was sure to be important. Why else would she call?

So they lead him to another palace room, a room for recreation as far as he could tell. That was where he remained for the duration of the call and afterword when his face was red and he didn't want to deal with the rest of the world. He sat on the floor; his back supported by one of the room's oddly shaped chairs. His elbow rested on his bent knee, his hand covering his face as he let out a frustrated sigh.

It was like she didn't want him to try. They had that nice moment – they hugged and everything – and then it was back to this. Maybe it's because you told your own daughter you couldn't trust her. The words haunted him – had ever since he let them out of his damn mouth. It was easy to call it a regret. Tony had a lot of those.

But then she had just blown him off, hung up. Fix my mistake. Bye. It was disrespectful. It was insane. It shattered him. He wished he could have ignored her and gone home. He knew that was what they needed, just some time to figure it all out.

She was in the safe house. Because of him. Tony would never forgive himself, no matter the reason. He doubted she had called Pepper, which was great, just another failure he would have to announce to his wife. Ex-wife? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that alcohol would make the current situation feel a whole lot better, or maybe just burn a little less.

He was still caught up in trying to piece himself back together when the guards came in. It was the last thing he needed, really. He blew air out of his mouth loudly as they entered, hiding his face further.

"Mister Stark, you presence is required." Tony waved a hand at them, and silence filled the room. A staff struck the ground.

"Mister Stark—"

"Blow off!" Tony groaned, and gasps filled the air. Tension sparked and buzzed through the room like a firework.

"You would be best to watch your language in front of the prince," a loud voice boomed out, and Tony raised his hand away from his face in shock. Standing across the room was T'Challa's young son Santo, a boy barely older than Carly. He stood firm, waving his guards down with a flair of his royally decorated arm, his gaze casting itself on Tony with a mature sadness. Tony strained to see that he was crying.

"Mister Stark, my aunt is dead."