Hello readers! Thank you for staying with this story so far! I hope you're enjoying it. Any and all feedback is welcome, and I greatly appreciate it!
We're back in the present in Stark Tower for this chapter. Fair warning, I am a bit of a car aficionado, so there will be a little bit of technical jargon throughout this part. You'll see. Nothing too crazy; I promise. Anyway, please go ahead and read on!
Tony may have invented a robot butler to run his house, doing everything from cleaning to managing phone calls, but he always worked on his cars by hand. He had never truly lost his deep love for the feeling of axle grease under his fingernails, even after billions of dollars and the accompanying fame. The Ferrari F430 Coupe was the perfect tinker-toy for one of the world's best minds.
He was deep into the bowels of the engine, negotiating all eight cylinders with deft aptitude, both of his forearms streaked with the delightful mixture of sweat and motor oil. He reached blindly back with the hand that he deemed marginally cleaner to grab a wrench from his tool kit, looking up for only a second to ensure that he had the right size. Once his head was back under the hood, he continued his work with the kind of fervor that could only be fuelled by classic rock and S-belts.
"Chassis needs realignment," he muttered to himself, making a mental note to look at the undercarriage once he finished his tune-up.
The especially epic guitar riff at the beginning of AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" wailed through his speakers –which were almost as tricked-out as his Ferrari. Pepper had been good enough to bring him a can of Coke and a glass not too long ago, and, as he reached for his drink, he straightened up, his back cracking. The sound was like Velcro pulling apart, mercifully drowned out by the music that blared at a volume set to just-shy-of-obnoxious.
He surveyed his work, contemplating taking a short break. He needed to get something ready for Fury so he wouldn't look like a complete slacker when the time came.
"Sir," JARVIS interrupted his thought process, "you have a visitor."
"Where?" Tony asked, wiping his hands off on a rag.
"Your front door, sir."
Tony groaned, tossing the rag down on top of his tools and kicking the metal box for good measure. "I thought we were initiating Phantom Protocol," he said.
"We are, sir, but that does not prevent people from finding our front door."
"But the whole point was to cover the front with retrograde reflection panels so we're invisible."
"We decided against that when you couldn't find your own tower, sir."
Tony groaned again. "Damn. JAVRIS, did I invite anyone today?"
"No, sir."
"Did Pepper?"
"No, sir."
"Great." He sighed. Now was not the time for this. Not with Fury breathing down his neck about the city's reconstruction. He wondered fleetingly if Pepper had his checkbook handy; he really was not in the mood to deal with anybody today, and he would pay them generously if they would only leave him alone. Fury was enough; he didn't need anybody else jumping down his throat.
He trudged up the stairs, purposefully taking his time. His Aerosmith tee shirt and old jeans were both smeared with oil, but he was hardly concerned. Maybe, if he was lucky, his general appearance would put anybody off.
Outside the door, he saw the blurred silhouette of someone both completely familiar and completely not. He squinted through the frosted, warped glass that was meant to obscure anybody's view into the massive house – a great plan that backfired every time he tried to see who was on the other side. The sight made his hand hesitate over the knob.
When he did pull the door open, he wished that he was wearing something a little bit nicer than his oil-splattered clothing. A woman stood on the other side, gazing away from him like she was oblivious to the fact that he had answered the door. He ran a greasy hand through his unbrushed hair, asking, "Can I help you?" For once in his life, he tried not to seem sarcastic.
At the sound of his voice, the woman faced him, fixing him with a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes. Her expression was vaguely pained as she surveyed him, head to toes and back again. Once again, he kicked himself for his appearance; here she was, looking like the definition of polished class, and he was sporting Armor-All.
"Unfortunately," she drawled, her British accent catching his ear immediately, "yes."
When Tony didn't move, instead waiting awkwardly for her to say her piece, she sighed. "Might I come inside?"
"That depends on why you're here," Tony said, trying very hard not to be rude. "You can start with your name."
Her eyebrows rose elegantly, though Tony couldn't shake the feeling that she was mocking him for some reason. "Of course," she said flippantly. "Call me Elizabeth." Tony waited, but she never held out her hand for a shake.
"You forgot the part about why you're here," Tony repeated when she offered no more. Something seemed very strange about her, and, though Tony could hardly identify it, he certainly didn't feel as easy around her as he generally did when faced with beautiful women.
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, almost furtively, before leaning slightly forward. "I was sent to help the Avengers," she said quietly.
For a moment, Tony was stunned into silence. Nobody spoke of the Avengers unless they were working for SHIELD or were part of the coalition themselves. To everybody else, they were simply heroes. "Who sent you?" Tony asked, all pleasantries gone. "Fury?"
She scoffed. "I was sent by men higher than your Nicholas Fury could ever hope to become. Now may I be granted entry?"
Tony stood and gawked at her – with her self-confident mannerisms and frankly quite pretty face. She was definitely scarier than Fury, Tony decided. He wanted to tell her that she should leave right now, before the rest of his team saw her. Instead, he found himself stepping aside.
Elizabeth dipped her dark head once in thanks, hands clasped easily behind her back, strolling through the doorway like she owned the place. "You're Tony Stark, then?" she asked, though her tone said that she already knew the answer quite well.
"Yeah," Tony replied.
She nodded again, this time with understanding; Tony tried to angle himself to see her face more clearly, but she never gave him more than a sidelong glance, her expression always unreadable. "It's rather dignified from the inside," she said, gesturing easily to the décor and architecture of the tower.
"Yeah," repeated Tony, unsure as to how he should walk around this woman who seemed like, if cut, she would bleed mystery. He cleared his throat. "So, I, uh, haven't really seen you around much."
When she looked at him, he almost immediately regretted speaking at all. She wasn't angry, but she seemed quite derisive. "No, I can assure you of that much myself. It has, at least, been some time since I last saw you, though you would not recognize me." She wandered a few paces and peered down the nearest hall, and Tony immediately began scrolling through mental lists of women, trying to remember if she had ever been one of them. "Tell me Stark," she said over her shoulder, breaking his concentration, "has there been any word from Thor Odinson of Asgard?"
The question took Tony aback; fewer people knew the name of Thor's planet of origin than knew the title "SHIELD." Still, he merely shrugged. "Nope. I'm assuming everything's going alright, though. No more aliens down here, if that's what you mean."
Elizabeth did not look at Tony as she asked, "And has there been anything said of his brother, Loki?"
The mention of his old foe made the hairs on the back of Tony's neck bristle. "No," he answered, none too sharply. "And we all like it that way."
She gave a small hum in agreement, though she still kept her face turned away. Tony only saw the edge of her expression, but he could have sworn that something different had shown up at the mention of the Trickster who had so decimated the earth not long ago.
"He was an arrogant –"
"I know." She cut him off sharply.
Tony lifted his hands and took a step back. "Sorry," he said. "What do you care, anyway?"
Finally, Elizabeth faced him straight-on. "I'm under orders to fix what Loki has broken."
Tony scoffed at that. "That's one hell of a job, sweetheart," he said.
She gave a long, almost rueful sigh. "Believe me," she replied, "I know."