To my lovely reviewers:
Jasmin (Guest): Thank you so much! It'll take a while to get to that point, but I'll try to make it live up to your expectations!
louisagibson5046: Yaaaaaaas indeed!
And guys, I'm not going to be able to update as fast as I have been. My procrastination is very... selective, and schoolwork is on its delay-at-all-cost list. I'll try for every week and a half or so, but...
The song for this chapter is "Battle Cry" by Imagine Dragons. Listen to it while you read this chap, and you'll see why.
Low-key trigger warning, the last for a little bit.
Hopefully you know this, but I don't own anything related to Marvel! i'm just playing in their sandbox.
IRON MAN: PART THREE: IT'S DO OR DIE
Tony grunted as he swung the hammer, back and forth, back and forth. The plate of metal underneath the tongs bent, slowly forming into a curve. The holes in the metal were gently tapped to square them out. Finally, the dome-shaped piece was thrust into a bucket of water. Tony walked forward, laying the piece on the table in front of his father, who was investigating some circuits. Howard glanced up, looking at the Iron Man faceplate. He smiled in triumph.
"That's the last of it," the older Stark confirmed. "Let's get you suited up."
Tony nodded, grabbing a roll of bandages and taping his hands. Howard handed him a leather protection jacket, which Tony pulled on. It was a little big for him, but never mind. He pulled on protective gloves as well. His father affixed a leather neck-guard onto Tony's neck, and the younger Stark stepped over to a . Howard started pulling on the arm and leg coverings, as well as adjusting components.
"Okay? Can you move?" asked the older Stark, as the last main plate was risen up to Tony's level. Tony nodded and flexed his fingers for emphasis. Howard nodded. "Okay, now say it again."
"Forty-one steps straight ahead," Tony rattled off. "Then 16 steps, that's from the door, fork right, 33 steps, turn right."
Howard continued to hook up multiple components of the suit, securing plating, hooking fuel to rockets, and checking wires. Tony watched silently all the while, occasionally murmuring a clarification or two. They worked in companionable silence; at least, until a fierce pounding on the door shook them out of their concentration. Eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room, looking for Howard and Tony; but only the former was currently visible.
"Stark? Stark!" one of the men cried. "Open!" A string of demands followed this, all unfamiliar as Tony didn't speak… whatever language that was.
"Say something back to him!" hissed Tony to his father.
"I know, I know!" Howard whispered urgently, aware of the bomb rigged to the door. "But he's speaking Hungarian. I'm not fluent-"
"It doesn't matter whether you're fluent in Hungarian or not!" Tony hissed. "Say anything that might help!"
Howard paused, thinking wildly, before calling out something that Tony amounted to 'We're here!' or 'Everything's fine!' or 'Don't come in!'. Hopefully. Tony really didn't know a word of Hungarian, so he couldn't quite hazard a guess.
An explosion, shaking the plate that Tony was pressed up against, jarred Tony from his wandering thoughts. Apparently, Howard hadn't gotten through to the terrorists, although whether that was due to a language barrier or a 'I'm a terrorist I won't listen to you' barrier, the younger Stark couldn't be sure. "How'd that work?"
"Oh, God," replied Howard, no doubt gazing at some blown-apart entry. "It worked alright."
"That's what I do," smirked Tony. "They'll be coming around soon, an explosion won't exactly go unnoticed. Initialize the power sequence."
"Okay," muttered Howard, typing precariously on the computer. "Tell me, tell me!"
"Function 11," responded Tony. "There should be a progress bar. Do you see it? Tell me when you -"
"I have it!" interrupted Howard.
"Okay, Control 'I'," continued the younger Stark. "Then enter. 'I' and enter. Okay, come over here and button me up."
"They're coming," hissed Howard, nevertheless coming over and starting to tighten the bolts.
"Every other hex bolt," coached Tony. "Nothing pretty, just get it done."
"They're coming!" repeated Howard, more insistent this time.
Tony shook his head. "Make sure the checkpoints are clear before you follow me out, okay?"
"We need more time," Howard murmured, looking frantically at the slowly loading progress bar. His gaze swept from the monitors to the cave entrance, his lips moving soundlessly. When his eyes landed on Tony, his face hardened in resignation. "I'm gonna go buy you some time."
"Dad!" exclaimed Tony, wary of his father's expression. "Whatever you're thinking, we don't have to do it! Stick to the plan!"
Howard, unheeding, ran past Tony, through the gate, even as Tony screamed at him. The young genius assumed that he must have picked up one of the fallen men's guns, judging by the sudden budda-budda of a gun. His father ran, firing and screaming, up the passageway.
"DAD!" Tony cried out one last time, his voice shaking. He glanced desperately at the progress bar, which was still climbing much too slowly. "No, no, no, no!"
In the background, he could hear his father's shouting, along with the spray of bullets he was shooting out. Both noises suddenly stopped, and then the crack of the guns resumed; but did it sound a little different?
No, thought Tony sharply. Dad is fine. Dad is fine. Dad will be fine.
He heard the murmuring of three terrorists, coming into the room. He didn't think of how that meant they had gotten past his father. He only thought that dammit the blasted progress bar was still loading! 97… 98… 99…
100.
One terrorist were scanning the room, Tony could hear the footsteps. He reached up and, as quietly as possible, disconnected the cords leading to the suit. He flexed his fingers as he heard a terrorist come near his position. The unsuspecting man crept closer, closer, closer…
Give 'em hell.
Tony reached out and punched the terrorist squarely in the gut, sending the man flying backwards. Frenzied gunfire broke out as he shrank back, creeping along the wall. Bullets pinged straight off of the thick suit, flying every which way. Eventually, the group stopped firing, aware that they were wasting bullets on the Iron Man. This gave Tony his opportunity. The young genius reached the gateway, and the light of his life-giving ARC reactor shined down upon the men, revealing their terrified faces.
Tony wasted no time in giving them an adequate punishment for everything he had been through.
Three punches later, the Iron Man strode forward, bullets no longer chasing it. Tony nervously counted each step, the cave tunnel here much too dark to see in, even with the ARC reactor's light. When another rifle started to crack, and more bullets pinged off of the suit, the young genius growled in annoyance. What if the bullets eventually wore a hole in the suit? He had protection on underneath, of course, but it would only slow a bullet down by a bit. Hopefully, the tin can would hold.
The armor didn't disappoint, and as the shooting terrorist sprang forward with a cry, Tony slammed his left forearm into the man's gut, shoving him into the wall. When another man came, he was slammed forward by a powerful fist, landing several feet back on the path. Tony strode on, with no regrets.
Another man. Seriously, hadn't they figured out that sending people wouldn't get anything done? This guy got flipped end over end, landing painfully on his back.
Three men turned the corner, intending to fight Tony, but when they saw the Iron Man and the decimation of their troops, they turned very quickly and dashed back the other way. The young Stark followed them grimly. Thirty-five thirty-six, thirty-seven…
There! He could see the door. Two of the men, being up ahead, hurried behind the door and locked it behind them. The poor third guy was too slow, being left outside. He screamed in terror as Tony bore down on him. The remorseless Iron Man threw him over his head, sending him flying backward. His attention turned from the unconscious man to the door. He gave it a big punch, but it barely buckled. The young genius grit his teeth and slammed harder. This time, a big dent was mashed into the metal. Another punch, and the door was barely on its hinges. A final two-handed shove was enough to send it flying backward, the men scrambling back in its wake. Tony smirked and continued on.
16 steps later, Tony came to the fork in the tunnels. Here, however, there were more terrorists willing to try their hand at beating the Iron Man. As one man ran past, Tony slammed his forearm at the guy's forehead, but while the man was knocked out, one of the Iron Man's arms was now firmly stuck in the cave wall. Dammit! Tony tried to shake his arm loose, jerking back over and over. A bang right next to his head momentarily distracted him, and he turned to see that a man had evidently tried to fire a bullet point-blank into the helmet, and the bullet had proceeded to ricochet and hit the terrorist in the neck. Well, the armor worked.
One more tug, and his arm was free of the enveloping rock. Remembering his father's instructions, Tony forked right, pacing forward. One. Two Three. Four. Five…
A single man followed him, but Tony didn't have time for him. The young genius smacked the man in the jaw without even looking behind him, giving a small smile as he heard the crumple of a body. Grimly, but with the slightest tinge of satisfaction, he continued forward.
Until he saw what awaited him.
His father, slumped on a pile of sandbags, one laying over him.
Blood staining his body.
"DAD!" screamed Tony. His head whirled. No, no, no, no… Howard Stark was powerful, with a straight spine and a perpetual smirk. He wasn't lying here, pained, fighting to take a ragged breath…
"Look out," gasped Howard. Tony fought to disengage his brain from analyzing just how weak his father's voice sounded, and glanced over to see their friend Beak Nose, who was just about to fire a rocket launcher. Tony growled in anger and opened up the front arm of the Iron Man suit, where a small rocket was concealed. He pulled back the release and aimed the missile just above the man's head. The rocket whirled merrily on its way, ramming into the ceiling. When the dust settled, there was no sign of Beak Nose, only a pile of rubble.
"Come on, Dad," muttered Tony, rushing over to where his father lay and grabbing the covering sandbag, heaving it out of the way. He looked at his father while raising up the mask. "Come on, we have to go. Move. We can both get out of here. We got a plan, we're gonna stick to it…"
"Wasn't this always the plan, Tony?" asked Howard, his breath rattling. "Only one of us was going to get out of here, and it was always gonna be you. You can save your legacy, be remembered as more than a merchant of death."
"No," denied Tony, frantically. "We're both getting out of here, we'll get you to a hospital, we're gonna see Mom…"
"You're going to see Mom," corrected Howard gently. "This was the only way for either of us to get out, and for you… I would do anything. Tell… tell your mother that I do… and always will love her.
"Don't waste your life…"
Howard closed his eyes and didn't move again.
"No," whimpered Tony one more time, rogue tears slipping from his eyes. Howard was supposed to die at a ripe old age, surrounded by friends and family, or maybe quietly slip away in his sleep. He wasn't supposed to go like this, gasping for breath, bullet wounds in his body, with only one person who cared at all present, a child who had failed to save him…
Tony's hatred for himself slowly turned, directing itself at the men outside… the Ten Rings… those goddamn weapons. He knew what he had to do.
When the hulking metal case of destruction stepped out into the afternoon light, a frenzied voice cried out, and it was immediately struck with a swarm of bullets. They practically hailed upon the thick plating. Each and every one pinged off, the only consequence a slight vibration inside of the suit.
Tony felt like he was getting a massage. True, a very aimless and slightly violent massage, but it was the best analogy.
The Ten Rings insurgents stopped firing, their faces hard, their eyes betraying their fear for this thing that, no matter how hard they tried, just wouldn't give in.
"My turn," whispered Tony, all of that anger, hate, and malice evident in his voice.
He pulled back two levers, just in front of his hands, and flames poured out, engulfing the men and the nearby weapon crates. Screams rang out as the Iron Man stepped forward, aiming the fire directly at all the weapon crates. All of it - wood and metal alike - caught fire, burning like a star.
Was the weapon napalm? Tony couldn't remember. The most important thing right now was destroying those weapons, so they couldn't hurt anyone ever again.
The Iron Man walked down the beaten-down path, the same one that Tony had walked all that time ago, the time when he and his father were offered their freedom.
He would still make the same choice today.
No other family deserved to be as ripped apart as his had just been.
Sudden bullets from up above shook him, harder than Tony had been jarred from the normal bullets. They must have been saving the good stuff for last. He glanced up, but the sun obscured the precise position of the gunman. Another bullet struck him, aimed from someone on the ground, but this one was lucky; it pierced the supports for the right suit leg. Tony fell to his knees, gasping. The bullets were getting thick again, and more of them might get lucky. He blindly aimed his flamethrower in the direction the grounded bullet had come from, but his efforts worked a little too well; the flaming weapons cases started to explode, faster and faster.
Tony struggled to his feet, and opened a small red cap on the inside of the suit arm, pressing the button beneath it violently. The Iron Man rose up into the air, flying away from its prison, leaving a monumental explosion in its wake.
It worked. It had really worked!
That was the last thought Tony had before the repulsors sputtered and died. He arched back to the ground, pieces of the suit coming loose.
"Aaaaaaaaaah!"
POOMF.
When Tony's head stopped spinning, he was half-buried in the sand, the Iron Man helmet still precariously balanced on his head, scraps of metal still on him, the rest of the suit in pieces, scattered around him. He reached up, arms aching, and pulled the helmet off. He had to get moving, find somewhere, anywhere, where he could rest, where he could be found.
Right now, he just lay back, the sand as comfortable as a feather bed to him. "The Invincible Iron Man… strikes again."
After a few minutes of contented silence (or as contented as Tony's silence would ever be), he rose up, painfully lifting himself off of the sand. Nothing had really hit him, but that one lucky bullet had probably gotten pretty close to the skin, at least bumping it. Not to mention all those jarrings. He would be fine, though. If he kept moving.
An hour later, he found himself walking, covering his head and upper body with the shade of the leather jacket he had put on. Had it really been just two hours ago? An hour and a half, even? It felt like a lifetime ago.
Suddenly, a faint chop-chop-chop echoed through the empty desert. Tony lifted his head wearily. Had he imagined it? No, that sound was real.
A helicopter rose over the nearby bluff, promising water, relief from the heat, someone to talk to… home.
Tony started yelling madly, waving his hands wildly in the air. The 'copter turned, heading for his position. The young genius fell to his knees, a yell of triumph leaving his throat. Close by, the helicopter landed, the hatch opening; the first person out was Rhodey.
Before the ecstatic man could reach his position, Tony discretely pulled his jacket back on, effectively covering the ARC reactor. If Rhodey caught wind of the fact that the young Stark had an electromagnet permanently implanted in his chest, Maria Stark would be the first one notified…
"TONY!" cried Rhodey ecstatically. He caught Tony up and gave him a tight hug, confirming that he was really there. Tony himself was wary that the ARC reactor could be felt through his jacket, but the lieutenant colonel gave no sign of feeling anything strange.
"We found you!" exclaimed the man, ever an expert of stating the obvious. "I'm not gonna lie, that was a real stroke of luck… but… where's Howard?"
Tony sagged in Rhodey's arms, reminded of what had happened. The rush of being rescued left him, and all he could think of was that he was the one rescued… the one going home…
Howard would never get to go home.
Rhodey realized the answer to his own question, and he knew Tony well enough to know that the young Stark would never accept something he didn't believe, or want to believe… without solid evidence.
"Oh, God, Tony…"
Rhodey held him even closer, if that was even possible, as Tony let out all of his emotion in hot, angry, guilty tears. He buried his face in the soldier's shoulder, because Starks were supposed to be motionless pillars of calm.
He let out the tears anyway, because Starks were supposed to take care of their own.
"Can a medic get a look at him?" asked Rhodey, as the helicopter rose into the air. Tony, who was wrapped in a shock blanket, tear streaks still slightly visible on his face, shook his head.
"I'm only a little banged up around my right thigh," Tony quietly voiced. That was partly true. His thigh had been throbbing since that lucky bullet. He was still, however, pretty sure that his ribs weren't in the best condition, and his lungs were very sore.
If he told them that, however, they would see the ARC reactor.
Why was he so paranoid about someone finding the ARC reactor? Really, his mother wouldn't be that scared; he would probably get in more trouble keeping this from her than telling her outright. Rhodey and Obadiah would never look at him differently.
But secrets leaked out.
If the rest of the world knew… he would be shoved from the side of the spotlight right into the center. People, people, people… and most of them wouldn't have his well-being on the top of their to-do list. They would try to use him to reach their own ends. To make money.
To make money by hurting people.
That would never happen. He would never willingly be the cause of someone's hurt again.
He could keep this close to his chest. He could keep it hidden. He would be nothing but a kidnapped kid, coming home. He wouldn't be anything different. He could stay afloat in the world, if he pretended he knew how to swim.
No one would know otherwise.
Unless he wanted them to.
You can already see Tony's taking a different route than in the movie... I like it so far.
I'm sorry that I killed off Howard, not like you didn't guess already. It's just a good way for Tony to grow. Also, Yinsen is in a town called Gulmira... ;)
Next chapter, Tony goes back to school, and a certain girl protects him with pepper spray... He also works on the armor, and tries to hide it from his mom.
See you then!
~Horseluv