Sweat: An Iron Man story by the Biker Chapter 2: Impulse
I'm in my garage, thinking it over. The answer won't come easily, and if it does it'll be kicking and screaming. So I hit myself in the face. It sounds so stupid and infantile, but it's most probably true. A glitch in the armour, maybe? Shut up, Tony. You've been running frantic virus checks every waking minute. There's nothing visibly wrong with the armour. But what if there's something wrong with me?
I bury my head in my hands. A glitch with me? Maybe I'm just tired. I've been psyched up on Extremis, lately resulting in a lot of sleepless nights. Maybe it's just a tired twitch. A tired twitch whilst in the suit could be fatal… Maybe I should turn in early. I can't think straight. The suit deserves a break. I lock up the garage and climb the stairs. I enter my spacious bedroom and collapse on my double bed, inhabited with so many women, and fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. That could be literal.
Waking up was a bit of a pain. I was haunted by strange dreams involving Maya Hansen's betrayed, angry face and Extremis taking on a solid shape and chasing me around the labs of Stark Industries. Why would I dream something so stupid? Extremis isn't my enemy. Chasing me to embrace me, perhaps? I shake my head. I must be going crazy; I'm trying to make sense out of a stupid dream. I pour myself some breakfast and sit down at the long table. I know what I'm going to do today. Give my armour a test flight and work through all the different functions to see if they're working competently.
Ten minutes later I'm in my garage again. The tiny holes open up all over my body and I'm suddenly covered in the gold under-skin. I hold my hands up, and the pieces of armour suddenly gravitate towards me. I hear dozens of clicks and hisses as the armour links together. I see something glint on the face of the helmet as it floats towards me.
"Wait," I murmur, snatching it out of the air. I see something dark red glinting under the left eyepiece… Blood? Was it my blood? I feel my left cheek. I must've hit myself harder than I'd conceived.
It's a quantifiable amount of blood, and the way some of it still lingers on the golden surface makes me slightly uncomfortable. I snatch an oily rag and wipe the liquid off, and put the helmet on. "Power on. Start." The whirr begins, and I can feel the heat under my feet like I'm standing on hot coal. Pepper was all over me this morning: fussing, worrying, perturbing; the whole deal. I don't think she'll be happy by my lack of convalescence, but it'll have to wait. The armour needs testing before somebody, namely me, gets hurt.
I launch out into the fresh morning air, feeling free and elated. I twirl in the air, and it goes flawlessly. I spin and speed up, dive and flip, and it goes smoother than ever. I nearly decapitate the leader of a v-formation of birds with my swinging fist, but manage to dodge a mile away as I'm so finely-tuned today. Adrenaline pumps through my system, accompanied by recklessness. I twirl and swing over the bay, the vivid blue waves glittering while they wrinkle into each other, rolling onto the sand. Moss-covered rocks glimmer dully. With all this natural beauty dominating the morning, I must be a bit of a sight. I smile at the thought and perform an abrupt dive, cutting through fluffy innocently white clouds as I shoot toward the glittering sea. Inches away from the rippling surface I pull up, flying inches away from the water and barely adding an extra ripple. "YES!" I yell in elation and shoot towards the city.
I fly leisurely past the tall buildings, listening to the sound of rumbling engines and the screaming of my fans. I grin widely. I engage a lock on a dirty yellow taxi, zooming in. When the image was magnified I engaged x-ray, and I could see the portly cabbie with a donut clutched in his hand, the contents dripping through his fingers. I terminate the lock and zoom ahead. I shoot into the sky, overtaking an aeroplane. I have an idea, and slow down until the roar of my jet boots dulls to a murmur. I fly beside a round window, where a kid is playing his handheld console, and wave at him. He looks out the window, probably expecting clouds and endless plains of boring blue sky, but instead he gets me, the person who he sees as a red and gold blur in the newspapers, right beside his window. As I expected, he dropped his handheld, along with his jaw. Waves of cameras flash in the background as opportunists snap their digital pictures. The boy waves frantically, his eyes alight with joy and his mouth moving in mute screams. I give him a three-fingered salute and fly off. I chuckle.
I fly lower towards the not-so-towering skyscrapers and continue my leisurely flight. I don't think I'll be able to test my weapons out here, not with so many people around. I'll test them later. I think I'll enjoy lopping the heads off dummies in the practice room.
I spot something ahead: something glimmering in the far distance. I engage a lock. A circle appears around the unidentified object and zooms in with the x60 optical zoom. I grin. It's Peter, dressed in that red and gold outfit I gave him. (Hey, my costume my design, okay?). I'm still very proud of my little rebirth present to him (don't ask). It's made of a liquid metal that I converted to cloth, and has about a million and one special features on it.
I should call him later; I've been keeping to myself lately and haven't had the chance to speak to my novice in a while. I'm thinking of waving or something like that, but I realize he's about a mile away. I sigh. Suddenly, the heat under my soles increases and I'm flying faster than ever. I try to decelerate, but the boots won't obey me. I panic, because this is just like yesterday. I try to move my fists, but they won't budge, like I'm trapped in a red and gold bullet. I realize that Peter is now swinging leisurely across the street. The armour moves in his direction. I try desperately to veer off, but to no avail. "NO!" I yelled. "Pe-Spider-man! Move!" The sound doesn't exit the mouth hole. I'm doomed to silence. "Cut power, Jarvis!" I scream. "NOW!" My computer doesn't answer. I look away as I hear the deafening clang of metal on metal after travelling at a high speed. I hear a grunt from Peter. "No," I whisper with my eyes closed. I feel the armour landing on a surface and open my eyes. I'm standing on top of a building, with Spider-man lying injured at my feet.
"Peter!" I gasp. There is a groan from the heap on the ground. "Tony," he murmurs. "Wassup?"
This is an excruciatingly bad time for his trademark wit to kick in, but I smile in spite of myself. I suddenly feel myself bending forward, arm outstretched. "Peter!" I warn, "Move!" Peter confused as ever, leaps out of arms reach. Well, a normal person's arms reach. My arm shoots out and grabs his throat, constricting his breathing. "Tony," he managed to choke, "what's going on?" I start to reply, but then my arm tosses him away like a rag doll. He lands heavily on the next building. I think I've dislocated his shoulder. "STOP!" I yell to no avail. The armour ploughs forward regardless. "Tony, what's wrong with the armour?" he wheezes as I step over the gap in between the buildings to stand over him. He knows me too well.
My foot lashes out and kicks him over the edge. I gasp. But Spider-man shoots two thick threads of sticky gossamer strand; one sticks with a splat to the building and one hits me square in the eyes, covering my view. I'm rooting for him, and whoop. He swings up and kicks me in the face, and I find that out the hard way as my head snaps back. I feel my arm rise to my face, and my repulsors warm up. I can see the dim glow through the blob of web. The substance begins to melt off my face. Stupid repulsors!
Peter hits me full force in the side of the head, and I'm sent flying. My missile guidance system engages abruptly, and a minute missile launches from my arm. Spider-man twists his body, the whole glossy fabric of his costume adapting to the new found muscles, and the missile flies past him with a whoosh. I sigh sharply with relief, which is short-lived as the missile ploughs into the building across the street. I grimaced as I knew what that tiny missile could do.
There is an explosion, and flames blossom like red flowers. Chunks of debris rain down. "Peter!!!" I yell. Spider-man turns his head, nods brusquely and turns around. He sprays frantic, twirling strands of webbing, silver ribbons snaking through the air. Not two seconds later, every single piece of debris was suspended in mid air, over the heads of dazed onlookers. I gulp. People start screaming Peter's alter ego, but as selfless as he is he turns to face me, the sun glinting off his golden eyepieces. I am reflected there, and I can see I'm standing tensely in a fighting position.
"Is there some sort of override for this?" he asks anxiously, and I shake my head. He sighs. "Sorry, Tony," he says. I try to say "It's fine, do what you have to," but no sound emits from the mouth-hole. I suddenly lunge out, my fist connecting with his chin as I throw a fierce uppercut.
I must've jarred his jaw. I'm furious with myself. How could I let this happen? There's no way Pete can survive against new improved Extremis me, and I dread to think how I'll dismember him. Peter disappears over the edge. I stride over automatically and peer over the edge. He's not there. I take off into the sky and fly quickly over the surrounding buildings, my heat sensor blotting the screen scores of different colours. I pray to God it won't pick him up on the sensor, but that chance is very slim. Peter's body heat is, well, toasty, but during high octane fights it tends to fluctuate. He'll be hot or cold. I prayed for the latter.
The scanner bleeps and I groan in anguish as it zooms in on a figure standing on top of a small building. The armour dips abruptly, landing roughly behind Spider-man. Stealth mode is engaged, and I pray his Spidey sense will kick in. It doesn't seem like it. The armour moves stealthily behind Peter, who is still looking out over the street like he'd never seen it before. Suddenly he whips around, and I let out a sharp breath. But I gasp in horror as my arm rises. Why isn't he doing anything? He's panting heavily, hopeless. I feel the heat in my palm. No no no… A thick beam of gold light shoots from my palm, as something hits me hard on my left cheek. Again. I still manage to see the gold beam tearing through my best friend, and Spider-man crumples to the ground. "NO!!!!" I scream, but my calls are lost to the wind, and I look across the concrete ground I'm laying on to see gallons of blood pumping from Spider-man's side.
To be continued……………..