Chapter 5: To Be Continued
"… And barring any change in present conditions, you have a 99 percent chance of success. Should these conditions change, factoring in a possible attack and your limited experience with firepower…"
Pepper tuned Jarvis out in favor of the humming, flickering, lively HUD display. Normally she was all about numbers and odds (working in business did that to a girl) but right now she was a bit preoccupied with soaring off into the wild blue yonder and saving two very important lives. She darted through the clouds like a dragonfly, cloud mist collecting on the suit as she practiced angling herself in different directions with her thrusters, not really flying anywhere in particular. The coordinates had yet to come through.
"Jarvis?" she asked, right in the middle of a figure. He was still talking his electronic head off; obviously he'd imprinted on Tony at some point.
"Thirty five percent," he finished. "Yes, Miss Potts?"
"Where are the coordinates?"
In answer, there was a double blip and a 3D map appeared in one corner of the HUD, layered for topography, streets and atmospheric conditions, with a blinking red dot in downtown Los Angeles. It was posted right above the small video feed of Tony and Jim, a constant reminder of why she was doing this.
"Thank you, Jarvis. Please turn up the sound on the video. And wish me luck!"
Jarvis paused. "Luck," he said softly.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The door opened. Tony and Jim squinted into the sudden light from the other room and Tony instinctively jerked away as a tall man approached and crouched before them. If there were some sort of costume design award for dressing like a creep from the Matrix, this guy would win it. Tall and deathly pale. Shaved head and sunglasses. Black raincoat over a black one-piece. Rippling, juiced-up physique. He'd been the one to do most of the "convincing" back in the interrogation room.
"Ah, I see you managed to get the Colonel's gag off," he said.
Jim wisely said nothing and Tony just glared.
"Well, no matter," he went on. "It's not like you two are going anywhere. Oh, and by the way, your drop girl sends her regards. She's swinging by the Port in about an hour to deliver your armor." He smiled coldly. "Deluded little bitch actually thinks she's getting you back in return."
Jim, who had just put two and two together and gotten six, whipped his head around to glare at Tony, but Tony wouldn't look at him. He just held his captor's gaze icily.
"Oh, believe me, she will," he said with an assured air. (His years in business had raised his bullshit kung-fu to Grandmaster quality.) "And if you call her that word again, I'll personally make sure you get the death penalty when this is over."
Jim winced as the guy punched Tony in the stomach.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Pepper was just over Westwood, gazing with pity at the traffic tangle on Wilshire and Glendon, when the video feed distracted her. She heard Jim say, "Who are they negotiating with?"
And something big and cold plopped into the pit of her stomach as Tony spat and said, "No idea."
"Oh no," she mumbled. "Jarvis, we have a serious problem."
"Miss Potts?"
"The video isn't live anymore. It's on a loop!" She was getting angry now, letting it feed her. "I have to move in. Get all arrays up and running. I'm closing on the location."
That sneaky tape had been really good. Nearly a half hour of actual feed had fooled her into thinking she really had that much time. Speaking of which, the HUD clock was telling her it was a few minutes after 4. Pepper Potts would be expected at the Port with the armor at 5, which meant the kidnappers were most likely planning on moving there soon to "receive" her, but in her current guise as, well, as The Flying Whatever, maybe she could catch them before they split. She kicked up the burn on her thrusters and within seconds Downtown L.A. sparkled underneath her in the afternoon sun. City Hall was dead ahead, somewhat dwarfed by the giant skyscrapers around it but still a very impressive and beautiful building.
She got a good look as she approached. The exterior was about what you'd expect from a 1920's masterpiece – white marble and classic lines with a point of interest at the pinnacle. The office portion of the building was topped by a large rotunda with small viewing balconies that wrapped all around it, and atop that was a step-pyramid roof with a large lightning rod at the peak. Pepper took in all these details as she circled around it, the sun winking off her armor. She landed gently in the fronds of a palm tree about thirty feet away from the building and got to work.
"Thermal scan," she ordered. Jarvis complied and the HUD lit up with thousands of human heat signatures at first, because the building was full. But as the scan went lower and lower, finally reaching the sublevels, the signatures disappeared. And then the scanners hit Basement 4. "Jackpot," she murmured. Two unmoving thermal signatures sat in the middle of one room and six others were moving around – five in an adjoining room, one near the still figures. "Basement 4 Infrastructure Scan. Focused MRI. X-ray. Sound. Everything you can get for me, Jarvis. Hurry."
Jarvis worked silently, and as the information poured in Pepper realized what she was facing and swallowed painfully. Maybe calling the cops wasn't such a bad idea after all.
The picture wasn't pretty as the infrastructure of Basement 4 came to life in the mock-up on her HUD. Lots of complicated machinery had been hijacked for what looked like nefarious purposes down here. In between readings, she gave these guys props for moxie – slumming in the basement of a historic building (still in use!) and making their headquarters here was a pretty gutsy move. She saw, among other things, Tony and Jim, a stockpile of guns (Jarvis was pulling up their specs – they were some kind of fancy photon rifle), and lots of expensive, cutting-edge tech. But it was one word, stamped over and over again on crates, which caught her eye: WarGod.
"Jarvis, search query WarGod."
The HUD started scrolling the salient points and she read it as fast as she could. In theory, "WarGod" was a splinter group of techno-terrorists with plans for causing WWIII. But in practice, it just looked like they were a bunch of highly experienced and rather successful thieves. Jarvis started pulling up articles about tech robberies where they were prime suspects, and she briefly scanned them with passing interest … until he brought up something very current that hooked her.
Document 18 was a highly disturbing press release from Intellitech, one of many Stark Industries rivals, detailing the recent theft of a bleeding-edge neural-link suit they had in development called Superhuman Hover-Drive (SHD). SHD, the release explained, was a simple body suit made up of tens of billions of little interconnecting neuro-units that were supposed to interface directly with the user's brain. The suit itself offered tremendous protection from firepower and flight "up to speeds that couldn't be detected by the human eye" – probably hyperbole on Intellitech's part, but whatever. The scary part was this: while SHD had many advantages over previous iterations in hover-tech (no hover-board necessary, huge improvements in speed and strength, etc.), it was buggy, and thus unreliable and dangerous. They even admitted that one of their test subjects had "received massively traumatic and insurmountable neuro-feedback" during the initial trials, which essentially meant that the poor soul had fried his central nervous system and died. And they publically blamed WarGod for the loss of their prototype.
Pepper closed her eyes for a moment. She had to assume that these guys had this technology and knew how to use it, the fire power to protect themselves, and of course the leverage of two hostages. She had to plan accordingly. The danger level on this mission had just gone through the roof.
"Damn it. I have to clear that building so I can flush them out. What do you think, Jarvis?" Pepper asked. "You're seeing what I am, right?"
"I am, Miss Potts. And I concur. Allow me to place an anonymous call. A bomb threat should do the trick."
No time for ethical debate on this one. As long as they got the building clear… "Go for it."
So Pepper sat and waited patiently as the alarms went off, and screaming ambulances and bright red fire trucks rolled up to the building. Firemen sprinted inside in spite of their heavy mustard-yellow uniforms, and began to evacuate it. Obviously this wasn't the "superhero" thing to do, waiting in a tree like a dove rather than diving in like a hawk, but Pepper honestly didn't see the sense in causing unnecessary panic and property damage, and she figured the bomb threat would flush out WarGod anyway.
She was half right. The bomb threat worked on the ordinary citizens just fine. Terrified businesspeople with briefcases began to pour out all the exits like sand from a broken hourglass and City Hall was cleared within minutes. She scanned the building, checking for those elusive heat signatures from before. But all the signatures in the basement were gone.
"Crap!" She scanned the building again and finally found them. They were rising fast, eight signatures all packed together like sardines, and they were heading for the 28th floor, where the elevators opened out into the large rotunda circled by the observation decks. "Jarvis, they're trying to escape with Tony and Jim! All systems go! Let's do it!"
She rocketed out of the tree with such a blast that the top of the palm almost caught fire, and she was pretty sure several people in the crowd saw something, but Pepper had her eyes on the prize and she didn't look back.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The muzak was incessant. Nobody was saying anything, just staring at the floor or the wall like people usually do in elevators, except this elevator was packed with brawny, armed thugs dressed in black trench coats over curious one-pieces. Tony, had he not been so dizzy from being forced to his feet and frog-marched out of the basement, would have recognized the black suits from a recent future-tech conference in Tokyo. Why they were taking this way out of the building, going so far as to override the elevator commands to get to the top floor, he couldn't imagine, and even though he and Jim were handcuffed and surrounded, the silence was more uncomfortable than the restraints.
"Um, you all know there's a bomb in the building, right?" he piped up.
"Stuff it," said Matrix Villain, as he'd decided to call the head guy.
"Because we seem to be heading for the top floor, and the last time I checked, this place doesn't have a helipad," Tony drawled, ignoring the warning.
"I said, shut up."
"Whatever. C'mon, what are we doing, flying away?" Tony taunted. (He had no idea how close he was to the truth.) "'Cause you know, unless you dipshits have wings – whoa! Hey!" He ducked to avoid the man's backhand. The slap missed him and hit another thug, who stumbled back from the blow and accidentally planted the butt of his fancy photon gun in someone else's groin. Toes were stepped on, curses hurled, punches thrown, and in the confusion the door dinged open. Tony and Jim muscled their way out into the hall and made a run for it.
They didn't get far, though. The rest of their captors piled out of the elevator pretty quick; one of the thugs gritted his teeth and snagged Tony's collar. Tony jerked, slipped, and went down on his ass.
"Not so fast, you," villain number five growled. "On your feet, rich boy! C'mon!"
Tony sighed. He was getting very sick of being ordered around. His head ached, his vision was a little unsteady, his hands were fastened behind his back and his nose had started dripping again. But he hadn't lost his spirit. As soon as he was hauled to his feet he knocked the guy off balance with his shoulder and bolted …
Only to smash into Jim, who had turned back for him and was standing way too close. Jim caught Tony with his chest and they went down in a grunting heap. Total distance of their mighty escape attempt: ten feet.
"Sorry," Tony mumbled as they were hauled up once again and shoved into the enormous rotunda, walled on all sides by windows and dominated by an enormous mirrored bar at the back. The dark wood paneling glowed in the afternoon light.
"S'okay," Jim mumbled back. He was starting to get a really bad feeling about why they were up here.
Their shoes squeaked on the marble floor. The bad guys hurled them into the center of the room and they stumbled to a halt, surrounded on all sides again by their captors. Matrix Villain casually took the safety off his gun.
"So it'll be days before anyone checks up here probably," he said in a conversational tone. "Nice knowing you, Mr. Stark. Colonel. I'm sure the Iron Man suit will greatly aid our cause. Oh, and don't worry about your pretty assistant, Stark. We'll take good care of her at the Port." He raised his gun and pointed it at them. "Any last words?"
Jim had nothing to say. He touched Tony's shoulder with his own in support. Tony barely noticed; he was livid. Nobody, but nobody got to kill him while explaining how they were going to hurt Pepper. In fact, he remembered with perverse glee, the last asshole who'd tried that particular trick was dead. So he squared his shoulders and spoke.
"Wow, you're really a tough guy," he sneered, "Executing two people who can't fight back, and threatening to do the same to an unarmed woman."
"Shut up, Stark, we're done here," said the leader. He pulled up and aimed, nodding at the rest of his crew to do the same.
"You're all making a huge mistake," Jim added finally, staring around at the barrels of six rifles.
Tony let his anger carry him. "Don't waste your breath, Rhodey. They're not worth it."
"I am really gonna enjoy killing you," Matrix Villain said.
Tony whirled on him. "Go to hell, you cowardly sack a' –"
Everybody fired.