Chapter Four: It Ain't Easy Bein' Iron Man
"Ohhh."
Tony came around with a sticky mouth and a throb of pain behind his eyes. His wrists pulled uncomfortably from where they were fastened behind him. He spat blood onto the floor; it puddled between his knees. At some point during the proceedings in the "interrogation room" he'd bitten or cut the inside of his cheek, and now his lips were crusty and it was painful to talk and everything tasted like copper. Yuck.
He looked up through his left eye (the right wouldn't open) and checked out his surroundings. Semi-darkness. Cement floor. Lit computer screens along one wall, dim fluorescent lighting, and nobody else in sight. A basement, judging by the cool air.
"Mrff?" asked someone next to him.
He jumped slightly and looked. Jim was tied up to his left, with a bandana over his eyes and duct tape over his mouth.
"Hey, hang on, Rhodey," he said, moving his jaw as little as possible. He dribbled some blood onto his t-shirt anyway and muttered a curse.
Jim stayed still and Tony painfully inched his way over to his friend so they were right up against each other. "When I pull up, you pull down," he instructed, and delicately gripped the blindfold with his teeth. "Nah!" he ordered with his mouth full. He moved, Jim moved, and between them they managed to get it off. Tony spat the bandana onto the floor and eyed the duct tape, wondering if he could use the same procedure to get it off. He was focused outside of himself, so he wasn't really wondering how bad he looked, but the wide-eyed expression on Rhodey's face was better than a mirror. Oh no, that's right, he remembered. They trussed him up before they started in on me.
"Ghtth!" said Jim, and jutted his chin out at Tony.
Tony obliged him, got a corner of the duct tape between his teeth and pulled. Using the same "opposite movement" protocol as before, they got the tape off as fast as possible. Tony spat it out weakly but it didn't get far enough, and instead of floating down to the floor it got stuck on his shirt.
"Great," he mumbled.
"Holy shit," Jim said, taking in his friend's appearance. "Tony, who are these guys? Did they tell you what did they want? What do you remember?"
Tony looked at his friend miserably. The initial kidnapping had been a simple snatch and grab – both of them dragged into an alley mere yards from the restaurant and chloroformed – and they'd woken up here. The subsequent interrogation had been loud and violent and due to the repeated face-punching the details were a little sketchy, but the big points were unforgettable.
"They're some techno-terrorist group. Call themselves WarGod. They want the suit. Last thing I heard before I blacked out was they were going to trade. Us for the tech. Probably bullshit. I think they're gonna get what they want and then kill us." Something dribbled from his nose and hit his chin. He ignored it.
So did Jim. "Who are they negotiating with?"
Tony spat. "No idea."
In truth, he had every idea; he just didn't want to get an earful from Rhodey right now. They needed to escape, not argue, and Tony knew the colonel would definitely start arguing if he found out what he'd done to buy them some more time: waited until the end of the interrogation, looked as pathetic and beaten and small as he could – not hard, considering he was tied to a chair and had just been smacked around – and then he pretended to relent in the face of brutality and gave the kidnappers someone to negotiate with.
There was only one person in the world that he trusted to pull this off.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The Audi roared out of the parking garage and Pepper grabbed her cell phone. Screw the new law, she thought. This is important. But just as she flipped it open, her heart gave an unpleasant jolt. What the heck was she supposed to say? When it came right down to it, she had absolutely no idea how to give the kidnappers what they wanted.
She could bluster, sure. Thanks to Tony's unknowing tutelage over the years, she could bluster and bullshit with the best of them. But handing over the suit? Please. Tony had all sorts of safeguards in place to keep anyone but him from accessing it. It was just common sense. She bit her lip as she tapped the gas pedal, eyes on the road, heart racing, mind elsewhere. These kidnappers were complete unknowns; she could feel herself starting to panic again. So she pulled out a little mental trick that she'd learned years ago, and imagined the craziest, most violently horrific Worst Case Scenario she could:
Thugs figure out that I can't give them the suit.
Thugs torture and execute Jim on camera.
Thugs realize that Tony has the suit codes, and they need to get those codes out of him.
Thugs take the expression "out of him" literally, and beat Tony like a piñata until he splits open in the middle.
I lose my guys.
Unacceptable.
It worked. Panic fled in the face of cold fury. There was nothing quite like imagining the WCS to remind her that failure was not an option and put her mind right. She set her jaw and dialed, and out of habit found herself expecting the ding-dong-ding "AT&T, Los Angeles." No sound. And instead of the usual operator blowing through "Goodafternoonwhatcity?" there was a hiss and a click, informing her that she was being transferred to some kind of secure untraceable line.
"This is Pepper Potts," Pepper announced firmly as she hit her blinker and scanned the street before making a right. "Who am I speaking to?"
"That is unimportant," came the filtered voice of the negotiator on the other end. "All systems indicate you have not contacted the authorities, so Stark and Rhodes are still alive. Do you agree to the exchange?"
Pepper's face got hard. In the end, she'd have to say yes. After all, what choice did she have? But there would be no agreement until there was further proof of life. Quid pro quo, and all that. "I want streaming video of them in real time, and I want to know they're not being harmed further."
Click. The line was dead. And for thirty stomach-churning seconds she was sure Tony and Jim were too, even as she took the onramp to the freeway on autopilot and high-tailed it to the house in Malibu. But just as she passed a bright green exit sign, there was a beep and a whirr and the built-in onboard navigation system lit up. The small screen in the center console flashed brightly. Before she could even spare a thought as to how these assholes had hacked into her car's system … there they were. The video was slightly grainy and they were still tied to the pole, but they were both awake (she gave a little inner cheer), and somehow Jim had gotten the blindfold and gag off. She watched them for a few seconds. They were talking to each other, plotting probably, huddled close like sheltering birds. The sound came on.
"Who are they negotiating with?" she heard Jim ask.
And she saw Tony spit blood like old chewing tobacco. "No idea," he said.
"Are you satisfied?" asked the negotiator coolly.
"Just keep the video feeding," Pepper said primly. "Anything happens to them, and the deal's off." And then, because she couldn't play games anymore she added, "Yes, I am. When and where?"
"Dock 89. Port of Los Angeles. Be there with the armor at 5 PM. Come alone."
The connection ended, but the video kept playing. Pepper sighed through her nose and lead-footed the gas pedal. So essentially, this had become a question of time. She had at least guaranteed their safety until five o'clock, which meant she had – quick glance at the dashboard – an hour and forty minutes to come up with a solution. If she blew that deadline, things would quickly go from bad to worse, if they hadn't already.
Pepper continued to sneak looks at the video all the way back to the mansion. She pulled into the driveway with a little bit more swerve and force than necessary, and the tires skidded on the concrete, but she made it up to the ID box without hitting any of the flower beds and lowered her window. Jarvis's scan washed over her. Moments later she parked with a jerk next to Tony's newly newly restored Shelby Cobra (he'd had to repair it again after he landed on it that one time). She had to turn the car off but she still needed that video feed, so she gave the key a back quarter-turn, shutting off the engine but leaving all the secondary systems running on the battery. The nav system was still glowing at her; she hopped out and trotted for Jarvis's center console. She slowed to a halt upon seeing the gigantic words on the screen.
MISS POTTS, PLEASE DO NOT SAY ANYTHING. I AM SWEEPING YOUR CAR FOR MONITORING DEVICES.
She felt an almost childish urge to clamp her hands over her mouth. At least she could count on Jarvis to keep his head – or collection of circuits, or whatever – in this situation. While he ran his scanners over her car she took the time to adjust her breathing, using an exercise that Jake had taught her last week during her training session at the gym. In for four, out for eight. In for four, out for eight. Come on, you can do this, in for four…
"Miss Potts?"
"Yes?"
"Everything is clear. There are no bugging devices present that I can detect. We are free to communicate."
"Thank God," she said, wandering over to Tony's chair. "Please tell me you were monitoring all that." She sat down with a plop.
"Yes, I was. Your vocal command 'send proof of life' initiated my monitoring of your phone and your car."
"Good," she said. "Bring up the live feed from the nav system and leave it on your screen."
Jarvis did so, and immediately a large feed of Tony and Jim appeared in the corner. Pepper sighed. "Anything you can tell me?"
"I have been working on the problem while you drove here, and you can rest assured that they will not suspect you of seeking help."
Pepper blinked. "How?"
"Mr. Stark designed a decoy chip some years ago for all the cars to which he has access. In the event that a car is being electronically monitored, this chip has the power to send out a false GPS reading. Yours, as a matter of fact, is cruising north on the Pacific Coast Highway at 63 miles per hour, and will not arrive at the house, where these … fiends …" Pepper smiled faintly at his word choice. "Expect you to go in order to retrieve the armor, until 4 PM. Your cell phone is electronically shielded within this space. I would recommend calling the authorities as soon as we have a location on Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes."
Pepper nodded. "All right. Is there any way you can find them?"
"Yes," Jarvis said after a moment. "My satellite feed has been attempting to trace the second phone call. The transmissions have been scattered, as expected, over numerous arrays. However, I am compiling the data and I will triangulate it from there."
"Okay. What about the scheduled meeting at the Port?"
There was a pause. If a human had paused like this, it might equate to a silent, "Are you serious?" glare, but actually, Jarvis was just processing her query. "It is doubtful that they will meet you there with anything other than lethal force, Miss Potts," he said politely. "I strongly recommend that you do not go. There is also no indication so far that they will return Mr. Stark or Colonel Rhodes once they get the armor."
Pepper raised an eyebrow. "True." Then she sighed. "Also, there's the small problem that I can't even give them what they want. What are we going to do?"
There was a moment of silence as Jarvis mashed raw data into something resembling an answer.
"Recompiling," he said. "Resuming calculations using two participants." Another pause. "Miss Potts, I believe at this stage in the game, our best strategy would be to ignore the kidnappers' request for a meeting, locate Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes, and send rescue."
Pepper nodded. This seemed sensible. Also, just the curious instance of Jarvis using the word "we" (she must have accidentally activated some new function of his) was making the situation feel a little less impossible. "I guess it's a stupid question, but Tony didn't happen to inject himself with a tracking microchip, did he?"
"Negative, Miss Potts. Mr. Stark comes equipped with no such device."
Pepper bit her lip. "Damn. How about getting a trace from the video feed? It's streaming live."
Jarvis calculated for a moment. "Data analysis complete. It appears that they are using the same scrambling program as they used for the phone calls, but the coding contains numerous errors. It is possible for me to enter in through a back door and put an appropriate trace."
Pepper stood up. "Do it," she said firmly, mostly to hide the antsy, anticipatory feeling rising in her gut. She was getting the nibblings of a very foolhardy if expedient idea, which blossomed into more of a definite plan with every second. Just as she reached for the zipper on her dress, she took one last deep breath. "And Jarvis, while you're at it," she licked her lips once. "… Please get my birthday present ready."
She got to work on the zipper and soon she was wiggling out of her dress and folding it neatly over the back of Tony's desk chair. Jarvis, who was still working the calculations, responded with a slight delay.
"Yes, Miss Potts. Preparing installation."
The floor began to rumble. Pepper stepped out of her black pumps, rolled off her hose and trotted over to her small locker in nothing but her bra and panties, where she pulled out the forest green bodysuit.
"I must be out of my mind," she said as she stepped into it. "Jarvis, how are we doing?"
"Automated suit-up process initiated. Time on crack trace is 5 minutes and counting," he reported.
"Great." Pepper zipped herself into the bodysuit and walked over to the floor grid, which had split apart in its usual complicated pattern. She stepped gingerly into the wide-open forest-green boots. Dummy and a few other bots were clacking their grippers excitedly, whirring over on their treads so they could hurry in to assist. She smiled at them gently.
"Miss Potts? Your suit?"
She swallowed. No going back now. "I'm in place. Let's go."
"Commencing," Jarvis answered.
She was jostled slightly as the robotic arms brought in all the components but the Bot Brigade, as she called them, did a fine job with the detail work and seamlessly finished suiting her up, blinking and beeping at her cheerfully as they went about it. It was funny; she'd never had the same problems with the bots that Tony always complained about. The only thing she could figure was that she was friendly to them and said "please" and "thank you." (A little courtesy never hurt anything.) There was no fear in her eyes this time as Dummy and the others screwed things into place at high speed and then backed off. The faceplate came down and the HUD came up, scanning the area and preparing her for flight.
"Jarvis, how are you coming?"
"Nearly complete, Miss Potts," he said in her ear. "I will send you the coordinates in the air. In order to be of further assistance to you though, I must ask … what exactly is your plan?"
Pepper began to prepare herself, stretching her arms and working her fingers in the bulky gloves. "My plan is exactly your plan," she said calmly. "Find Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes, and send rescue."
"Ah. Yes. Perhaps I was remiss in my explanation, Miss Potts," Jarvis replied in a light, almost sarcastic tone of voice. "I believed that sending rescue would involve calling the police."
He was teasing, and quite well. Pepper smiled inside the suit. "How about we make that plan B?" she asked. "Tony and Jim don't have much time. I need to get them out of there, and with your help, I think I can do it."
"I agree," Jarvis said. "You are intelligent, and I am programmed to be extraordinarily capable and helpful."
"And modest," Pepper quipped.
She clanked across the garage and stood directly underneath the impromptu skylight that Tony had made a year ago, loosening her upper body and slightly stretching her neck. The hole was still a little ragged around the edges, but it worked just fine, and she looked straight up at the circle of blue sky. She knew what she had to do, now. So she gathered her courage and ruthlessly squashed her nerves and did like Tony had taught her: spine straight, legs together, shoulders back, arms at her sides, faceplate aimed at the sun. And suddenly she felt all fear leave her, and a tingle of excitement take its place.
It was time to fly.
"Okay, Jarvis. I'm ready. Launch."
The thrusters lit up under her feet and she shot out of the lab like a smooth-burn firework.