Arc 2 - External & Internal Affairs (3 - 4)

Despite your best intentions, dark narratives spun themselves into existence as you repeated Jarvis' words in your head. Obadiah had acted suspiciously, the last time you'd seen him - paranoid. You'd put the thought aside at the time, a distraction that you didn't really understand. The flash drive he'd given you was still hidden in the bedroom, stashed away for safe-keeping. You hadn't really thought that this whole mess would blow open so soon.

That left you with two scenarios - both nasty. In one, Obadiah was paid off or somehow cooperating with the same thugs that had taken your guns, and probably hired Deadpool. In that view, he was a traitor - a turncoat. The flash drive would not contain important data - it would contain a virus, a malignant bug to attack your systems and shut them down. On the flip side, perhaps Obadiah had been kidnapped, and he'd been expecting that to happen. The drive was his confession, then.

You couldn't make the call on which was more likely - and neither did you have the time. You would look into the encrypted files later.

"Jarvis," you stated clearly. "Call Rhodey, and keep him updated on our location. You can inform him on what's going on, but it'll probably be funnier if he imagines the worst and brings a missile launcher or something." You strode towards the back of the lab, where you kept all your toys, already making sure you didn't leave anything useful behind. "Put S.H.I.E.L.D. on for me too, would you? Coulson probably wants in on this."

"Of course, sir."

You hesitated for a moment. "Oh - and build the armor up in the travel configuration, would you?"

"Sir, any configuration beyond home-assembled is untested and highly -"

"Yeah, yeah," you cut him off. "It's the only one that I can actually open without your help, and that's important," you explained as you glanced aside to Peter. "The connections between segments will be weaker, and odds are I'm losing out on flight-speed and height, but I'm not looking for a world record right now, just something that works. Make it happen."

"...Understood."

Peter looked flummoxed as metal arms dragged themselves out from under the floor once again, building the armor with mechanical precision, now that there was no squishy body in the way. "...What's going on here, exactly?" the boy asked. "What did the computer mean? Who's Stane? Obadiah Stane from the cover of Vanity Fair? He's missing?"

"Obviously, not anymore," you muttered dryly, grabbing the bulletproof vest that you'd assembled that same day, the ceramics neatly outlined by the hexagonal pattern of the supporting mesh. "And you read Vanity Fair? Seriously?" You shook your head. "In simple terms: Obadiah vanished after acting paranoid and dodgy. He was spotted in the company of various masked figures, and they're probably up to no good. And it all happens after I get involved in two separate near-death experiences that might be connected. You get the picture here?"

Peter nodded nervously. "Bad news."

"Yes. The police would need way too much filling in, and the army's not going to mobilize and be on-site in any acceptable time-span. There's really only one group that's already familiar with the basics enough to have a unit around," you said. "That's S.H.I.E.L.D. Think paramilitary superspies or the Men in Black - it's basically like that."

"And you work with these people?"

You would have answered, if not for the chiming noise across the intercom. "Mr. Stark,"Coulson's voice said from the speakers, and you gestured for Peter to stay silent. "Your - AI - was quite insistent that I speak to you. What's going on?"

You frowned as you paced across the length of the basement, ignoring the piles of unsorted mechanical parts that were spread all around from your designing binge. "You remember how we talked about the people who were smuggling my guns around, and who might be behind everything? They just overplayed their hand. I had Jarvis keep an eye out on public surveillance and he picked up my mentor, Obadiah Stane. It seems he has been taken by some questionable figures that like to hide their faces. You can do the same math from there."

"You know where they are, then?" Coulson demanded. "We have limited coverage in your area - how big of a force are we dealing with?"

"No clue. Jarvis will send you the coordinates - he was seen about twenty minutes by car from where I live, probably more if there's congestion. That is - if I were taking a car. I don't know what kind of tricks you people have, but get me some backupout there, would you?"

"Stark - you are not going after this yourself," Coulson stated with certainty. "You have already been in two violent altercations, and the risk is too high. Especially if these people intend to kill you - they won't hesitate to hunt you down if they think you're onto them, you have to realize that."

You sighed audibly. "Well, if you want to stop me from taking down the bastards that are ruining my company, then please try. I will be on-site in ten, so if you can make it by then, great! If not - I'm going in without you. In case you didn't notice when I poured crush into that last guy's eyes, I am not a helpless victim who hides from the bad things in the world."

"Hm. Is that why you have hardly left the house in a month?"

There was a long, tense silence, and it wasn't hard to deduce what Coulson was getting at. Aside from the pervasive surveillance the organization had access to, which you'd expected, it betrayed something about what S.H.I.E.L.D. had figured out about you - or thought they had, at least. And they were dead wrong.

"You think you know me, don't you?" you asked at last, glowering. "S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks I retreated into my basement to sulk like a broody teenager. You guys figured it had to be symptoms of PTSD, I suppose? Because of course someone who gets into trouble like this is traumatized. After all, there's no reason why an engineer might spend a lot of time in his workshop, is there?" You gathered yourself for a moment, balling your fists. "Honestly, you didn't even ask!"

"Mr. Stark -" Coulson sounded apologetic, but you weren't buying it.

"I've heard it all - spare me the pity, and help me. I want to do this thing quietly,unless we have no other choice.You have someone put up a roadblock, and make sure that no civvies come anywhere near. If things do blow up, blame a gas-line or Godzilla or something." You ran a hand through tangled hair, and sighed. "I am getting Obi out,whether you are present or not, Coulson. Talk to Jarvis - he has more patience than I do." You signalled to cut the line and turned. "Damn it. Figures they'd start second-guessing me the moment my back's turned…"

You looked at the suit you were still clutching in a balled fist, and loosened your grip. "Here - put this on." You tossed over the ceramic-tiled armored vest to Peter, who snatched it out of the air easily, frowning as he considered it. "Put that under your spidery stuff or something. Don't want to cramp your style."

"What are you talkingabout?" Peter asked, glancing down at the metal-and-ceramic creation with a baffled expression. "What is it, exactly?"

You groaned. "Get with the program here. That is a tactical vest of my own design - it's made from custom hardened ceramics and steel, and it's the closest thing I have to tank armor that you can wear. There's a communication system wired into the lining at the neck, speech activated. Odds are we're heading into gunfire territory, so be smart and put it on." You turned, and paused. "That is - if you want to come with. Doing the hero thing, saving a life. I just assumed."

Peter flustered, glancing down at the bulletproof vest and back at you. "Yeah - Yes, of course I'll help. It's what I do. It's just, I don't usually have supplies, or expensive gear and such. And I'm not really used to anyone actually knowing about this -" He waved his hands vaguely.

"Superhero thing?" you concluded. "Yeah, I'm still getting used to that bit, too. Figured the old notes were exaggerated, but I guess dad was onto something…" You shook your head. "Just put on your equipment. Jarvis will make sure that there's minimal exposure via surveillance footage, so nobody will ask too many questions about why you're on the wrong side of the country."

"You're kind of abrasive," Peter observed. "Might wanna reconsider that if you're going out in bright shiny silver. I started off like that, and it didn't go well." He started to pull off his long-sleeve shirt when you noticed a glimmer of light reflecting off something inside, and your hand shot out before you could really think about it. You could tell from the frozen movement that Peter had forcefully stopped himself from reacting, from lashing out. The boy's responses were amazing. The device on his arm was that as well.

"What is that?" You demanded. Circling Peter's wrists were metal devices that had been hidden well inside his sleeves - it was probably why he wore long ones even on a hot day. They looked delicate, spindly, but you could tell without even examining them that they were far stronger that they seemed. At the end of each was some sort of nozzle, and halfway down there was a compartment that held a square cartridge. It was simply built, elegantly minimalist - and unfamiliar.

"They're - just my web-shooters," Peter said in surprise. "It's how I shoot webs, swing around. You did watch the news, right? They don't exactly hold back on showing what I can do. Half the time they're just rerunning the highlights..."

You shook your head. "You mean the webs aren't organic?" you asked slowly. "I thought - the various superpowers, spider-theme, spider silk - it made sense. But this…" You trailed off, studying the device critically. "Who on earth gave you those toys? They're way too functionally-oriented to be based on anything of mine - I have a tendency to accessorize - and I can't imagine Roxxon or Oscorp would…" You saw the boy wince. "Oscorp? Huh. I didn't think they had the chops."

"It's not theirs - I made the shooters myself," Peter said at last, and he looked away. "The web-fluid's Oscorp's though, originally. It was one of their experiments - and so was I, in a way. It's how I got to be… who I am."

You barely even heard the last part, focusing on the first few words. "Wait, you made these? You built a mechanism that lets you fire and manipulate spider-thread so that you can swing at ungodly speed - by yourself? It looks cobbled together, but it's still very good work. Did you build it in your basement or something?"

"The attic," Peter confessed.

"Hm. I started in the basement," you murmured. "You also got your hands on a steady supply of organic webbing strong enough to hold up entire cars, if I recall the internet footage correctly. How is that possible? That's -"

Peter looked downright uncomfortable now. "That was just the original formula, actually," he said as he shrugged. "I improved it, after the Lizard happened. And of course, the original source wouldn't last forever..."

You stared for a long moment. "You mean you make that stuff yourself? You single-handedly replicated and enhanced an Oscorp project that must have cost millions?" You blinked in astonishment as you cut yourself off, shoving aside the myriad ideas for testing Peter's ability in favor of more immediately problems. "Okay, I am so hiring you. Now - suit up, because I've been wasting the last three minutes geeking out, and we have some hero work to do."

Jarvis only spoke up after Peter disappeared, digging for something in his backpack. "Sir - Mr. Rhodes is en-route to the target zone. No ships have arrived or left as of yet, but I cannot be certain of Mr. Stane's health without more equipment on-site."

"You can't hijack a satellite or something?"

"Quality of such footage is insufficient to make out more than shapes, sir. High-grade spy telescopes may be capable of more, but breaking into those would take some time, and there is a high chance of detection."

"High-grade spy telescopes, huh? Wonder who has access to those?" You smiled as you made sure your micro-repulsor was ready, nodding confidently. "Contact S.H.I.E.L.D. and let them know what you need - if they're halfway helpful, they'll forward the important feeds. It's time to go hunting."

"So, what do I call you?" Peter asked as you walked over to the partially assembled armor you'd designed. "How about... Shellhead?"

Peter looked bulky wearing the ceramic vest under his Spider-Man costume - the latter was evidently made of stretchy material, and the shoulder-pads and the vest's slightly over-sized measurements made the boy rather more imposing than expected. The mask had a lot to do with the intimidation factor, too - seeing unnaturally athletic stunts suddenly seems much crazier when you added the huge bug eyes and flashy colors.

"This armor is a bit stiff for my taste," Peter commented lightly as he stretched, bending over backwards in a way that made your spine hurt just looking at it. "There's a reason I usually just go out in polyester and nylon, you know."

You snorted. "You can invent something cooler when we get you a lab or something. Why didn't you tell me you were a genius in the first place? I like geniuses," you quipped as you set a heavy metal foot on the deck behind the house; it creaked uncomfortably under the weight of the armor. "I just got an update from surveillance, and Jarvis counts at least twenty goons hanging around the harbor. Light weapons judging from the silhouettes, but we still go in quietly."

"...Your ride isn't very quiet," Peter pointed out, tapping the armor.

"I know. I'm landing it some distance away, and I'll stick close to the ground the entire way there. Even if these idiots hear anything, they won't have a context for it. It'll just sound like a distant rumble. Thunder, maybe. An airplane passing by." You frowned in realization as you thought of who you were meeting there. "Oh - I should warn you. We'll be meeting Rhodey at the landing site - and he's going to see through your mask in three seconds flat."

"...Ah. Another genius?"

"I'm sure he'd be flattered by that question," you responded easily. "Rhodey knew that you were coming over, and I've been avoiding answering why I would bother with meeting a reporter voluntarily, much less one from across the country. He'll figure this one out. So you'd better be comfortable with trusting me on this: he won't say a word."

Peter stared for a long moment. "You're sure? You trust him."

You nodded soberly.

"I suppose you could just tell him when my back is turned anyway," Peter said glumly. "Can't really put that genie back in the bottle, can I?" He shook his head. "Alright. What do we do from here? I'll deal with that stuff later."

"We move," you said, gearing up the flight surfaces as the data on nearby flights filtered into view across the UI of your helmet - you wouldn't need it today, but it was always handy. "I didn't bring my armor as a show of force - it's transportation. I figured you didn't have many buildings to do your swingy thing from around here, and driving for twenty minutes is just going to give these assholes time to get away. So - have you ever hear about this thing some spiders do, called ballooning?"

"Yes, it's -" Peter stopped. "Wait, you're not saying that I should -"

"I am. Unless you want to literally ride me?" You asked dryly. "Which would be disturbing on several levels, and it would probably cut you up because the edges on this thing aren't designed to be comfortable in the slightest?"

"You want me to take a lift by hanging on a thread beneath you instead," Peter summed up. "I'd be clinging for dear life and praying that the webbing holds as we scream to our destination at half the speed of sound. Probably worse."

You smiled. "Yup."

"Sounds fun!"

"Descending to two-hundred feet," you said over the roar of the repulsors, confident that Jarvis would patch through your message to the human spider that dangled dozens of feet beneath you, suspended only by the incredibly thin wire he'd spun and wrapped around the ankle of your suit. You'd reached over a third of the speed of sound with him there, edging on half, and even at those speeds the boy kept fast, hanging almost horizontally behind you as you weaved and banked along the coast. He was insane.

Of course, it had occurred to you that if not for the suit you were wearing, protecting you from the elements, you were doing the same thing - you were cruising a miracle of your own. You had never taken the suit out before - you hadn't even tested the flight systems beyond stationary tests. But without a sputter, without even a hitch, the repulsors had roared alive and pushed you into the air, flying instead of hovering as air cut past you at blistering speeds.

Some other day, you would push it higher, ascending to the highest elevations or the greatest speeds and breaking records - but that was not today. The adrenaline that surged in your veins was only half in response to your success - the other part was all Obi. He was, in some ways, the only part of your father's legacy that you could face head-on.

"Going to one-hundred feet, prepare for final approach," you said. You'd muted the channel a long time before to get rid of the obscenely loud noise of the air rushing past, but Jarvis would certainly still pick up any words in return. 'Wahoo!' was the only vaguely recognizable word that you'd picked up - it summed up the situation pretty well.

"Jarvis, any update from Coulson?"

"Not as of yet, sir."

"Guess they're slow to roll out," you concluded. "Right. Tell Rhodey to look up, Jarvis."

You had only noticed the man and his car instants before you touched down with a thud, reducing your airspeed from two dozen miles an hour to nothing in a puff of energy that seared the ground below your feet. Right besides you, landing in a crouch, Peter acted as if nothing had happened at all. He rose up, and for the first time ever,you saw Rhodey's eye twitch. Surprise - or perhaps even fear was present for a split second as he glanced between the huge silver Goliath that had dropped out of the sky and the costume-clad superhero. The man had a gun in his hand before you'd even blinked.

"Spare your bullets, Rhodey," you said as you flipped open the lid of your helmet. The torso and upper legs of the armor slowly retracted and folded away, leaving you just enough room to wiggle free of the metal mesh. The process wasn't easy nor comfortable, but it was doable - and you'd have plenty of time to work out the kinks later. "It's just me in here - no tricks."

"What the hell is that thing, Tony?" Rhodey demanded, staring. "Did you build this in these last weeks?" He frowned. "You told me you didn't have enough time to make my jet-pack. But it's because you were making a better one for yourself?That's bullshit." His mock-offended expression faded , and he smiled. "I want one of those - you knew I would."

"I called dibs already," Peter declared, crossing his arms.

"And I am the only one with the money to pay for one," you added dryly as you shook free from the confining boots. "Rhodey - this guy here is Spider-Man. Spider-Man - James Rhodes, the best damn military liaison you could hope for. Though there isn't really a market for them. It's sort of a - well, not pity position, exactly..."

"Tony," Rhodey said dangerously. He looked at Peter for a long moment, and something like realization ghosted across his face. "Ah. So that's why… But how the hell did you notice?"

You shrugged. "He slipped up in Vegas."

Rhodey nodded, narrowing his eyes. "Cool. Very cool. Didn't know you had bona fide superheroes on speed dial," he observed slowly. "So - what's the plan, exactly? Because I'm seeing a distinct lack of black spy helicopters."

"Even S.H.I.E.L.D. can't be everywhere," you explained. "Though I'm sure they like to pretend they are. We have a short window to take care of this ourselves."

"Sir,"Jarvis piped up. "I have access to several local feeds and orbital footage, now - the total number of people is unchanged, but at least two individuals are likely leadership figures of some sort. I am also reading limited thermal activity inside one of the ships, possibly the hostages. Most likely there are between three and five individuals present, though the infrared scan is too indistinct to tell with certainty."

You nodded. "And the two odd people you mentioned? Any pictures?"

"Neither has been recorded with recognizable facial features, and narrowing down search still leaves tens of thousands of possible matches. I will require superior footage."

"Yeah, I'll get on that," you decided. "Until we get closer, we won't know what we're dealing with - so keep low. Rhodey, you pick the biggest, baddest gun you can find, and hole up on a second or third floor. Make sure you have a good look across the docks. You've got tranq rounds - if you run out, don't hesitate to pick the real stuff." You glanced over your shoulder. "Spidey - you're our recon expert. You're flexible, and the only one that's got bona fide super soldier power, so you get to run the gauntlet. You've got your - webs to make a non-lethal take-down, and I assume your physical strength would suffice if you really have to do anything more permanent."

"I'm not going to -" Peter protested, but you ignored him.

"Jarvis will keep us all up to date if anything happens - S.H.I.E.L.D. will call, but they'll only talk to me so you two can keep off their grid for a bit longer. Also -" You turned back to the armor, digging into pocket and retrieving the arc reactor you'd stuffed in there when you left home. Shoving it into the center of the empty armor's chest, the whole thing powered up. "With his new upgrade, Jarvis can handle some basic remote control of the suit. It will travel under the surface of the water, disabling all but one escape route for the enemy - the most obvious one. The big ship."

"...You sure I can't wear that thing?" Rhodey wondered.

"It's waterproof, but not buoyant," you warned. "The armor will remain nearby at all times, in case I need it in a jiffy. It can do some simple things I programmed in, but it can't really act without my mental instructions, so don't rely on it." You nodded as the suit slid closed, and it slowly and mechanically turned towards the water, walking in without even a hesitation. Its top quickly vanished beneath the waves.

You felt awfully naked without armor, and without the high-tech vest you'd handed to Peter, you had to rely on good old Kevlar again - the stuff that had already failed you at least once. Between the micro-repulsor and the mutant cattle prod from hell, though, you were good on the offensive side. You would just have to be careful.

"We're about five minutes away on foot, so we shaved about ten minutes off our arrival time," you decided as you gestured ahead. "If we fail here, people might die, so don't hesitate to get nasty if you are forced to. However much of a pacifist you might be. Lock and load."

You had never been very good at Hide and Seek. Beyond the fact that you'd been a spindly kid with an arrogant ass for a father and technology as your only resource, it wasn't really a big surprise that you ended up labelled a nerd - even in a school ostensibly for nerds. In those early years, your dad already had plans for you, and playing was never really something you were allowed to do. Men didn't play, after all, as Howard claimed.

Perhaps that was one reason you'd never stopped treating life like a game.

You were making up for lost time now, though, making your way around metal storage containers, most of them rusted and ancient, and moving between pallets of supplies that had to have been sitting there for nigh on three months. This particular harbor was closed - likely a private one that went under, financially ruined. Now it had squatters.You couldn't afford to be seen by any of them - not this soon. Even with three people, you were at a huge disadvantage.

"Any contacts yet?" you whispered, and the negations came almost instantly, just loud enough to be audible. You couldn't tell where Peter was - you had a vague idea of Rhodey's position, but it was far behind you and irrelevant. The taser in your left hand sparked dangerously as you kept it ahead of you, ready for a stab. If you hit right, the person wouldn't even be able to scream before their body just failed and dropped.

"Got my first two," Peter whispered from somewhere. "Looks like hired guns. Literally - they're nobodies, but they've got six guns between them. I put some trackers on them, but I'm not sure they'll be of any use."

"Nice job, anyway," you muttered, turning the corner that led towards the central open area behind the packing crates and containers, where the ships were moored. You still had plenty of stuff in between you and the wide-open spaces, but you kept low. "Got a visual yet, Rhodey?"

"I haven't seen Stane," Rhodey responded immediately. "I saw a flash of gold, though, when one of the two leaders popped up for a moment."

"Any identification, Jarvis?"

The AI didn't respond for a long moment. "Processing - no definite hits."

You grimaced as you turned another corner, shuffling sideways along the crate until you popped out your head for a split second. You retreated just in time, as a heavily armed black-cloaked figure turned on the spot, pausing only momentarily before continuing on. A scout, perhaps, or a sentry - you'd only barely missed running into the guy.

"Sir, two men are approaching from your south," Jarvis said, and you turned around swiftly, repulsor raised protectively in front of you. Thankfully, there was as yet nobody in sight.

"Rhodey -"

"Got 'em."

You hadn't heard a shot - hadn't even noticed the brief noise of the tranquilizer rounds soaring across your position to catch two people in the throat, bringing them down. You didn't need to turn back to see what happened - you knew already. Rhodey was good.

"I'm up to nine," Peter whispered, and you weren't entirely sure what to say to that. Between you, more than half the enemies had fallen without even raising an alarm. "You guys have to catch up. Honestly, the last group didn't even have time to turn around."

"Why am I even here," you murmured irritably as you rose, departing again to follow the sentry you'd just spotted. "Hold up…"

You dived around the corner. You hadn't expected your target to be standing directly around the corner, and you acted before you could reconsider the decision. Your makeshift taser flashed forwards, and you buried its prongs into the man's chest before he could raise his gun, and then you squeezed.

There was a brief moment of surprise and astonishment in the man's eyes, and a heady feeling of a storm in the air, a charge that rippled outwards. There was no thunder. Sparks flashed between the man's body and your weapon as he slumped back, his muscles spasming. You hadn't made a noise. The man had terrible trigger discipline, though, and a burst of bullets ripped out of the man's rifle as it was flung aside by his convulsions.

The sharp noises seemed to freeze everything

Then the shouting started.

"They know," Peter simply said, and in the next moment you didn't need to listen to know what he was doing - a wire launched upwards from across the harbor, latching onto a crane, and a figure shimmied up unnaturally quickly. Not to be outdone, you moved, your micro-repulsor ready as you reset the taser.

"Seven - eight new targets appeared from inside the ship," Rhodey announced. "You poked the hornet's nest, Tony. Some lady with a mask on just exited onto the deck, and she's looking mighty pissed."

"Jarvis?" you asked as you ran, skidding around the corners. You'd barely even seen a glimpse of black before you fired the repulsor at maximum strength, and the ground simply exploded,the top layers billowing out in an expanded cloud of dust. "Jarvis, you know what to do. Get ready."

"Understood, sir. Searching database."

You'd never appreciated how fluid and impossibly fast Peter was from the blurry police footage you'd seen - swinging on wires was commonplace, but not this. The boy seemed to outright disregard gravity, boosting himself upwards with only a slight tug on his webs, using a single loading crane as his support, looping himself around and over it to dodge the sprays of bullets that went wild, and then smashing people into the ground on his way down, skirting across the ground and missing it by mere inches.

At least three shots glanced across the boy's torso, diverting away due to your vest, and you were suddenly terribly glad that you'd decided to give it away. Peter didn't even seem to notice, his hands flashing out with sprays of sticky netting, pinning two more people to the floor until they could no longer move. Then, he darted back into the sky, ascending his web lines as if they were flat ground.

"Jarvis?" you asked distractedly. "Update?"

"The masked woman has been identified by alias. S.H.I.E.L.D. claims she is an assassin and thief going by the name 'Madame Masque'. Known for several large-scale heists, three murders, and worse. It is unknown how many women wear the mask, since at least some of the crimes could not have been committed by the same person due to their simultaneity."

You only barely listened to Jarvis' explanation as you slammed yourself against the metal wall of a shipping container, glimpsing around the corner just enough to see three people tumbling through the air at the end of web lines, strung up by their ankles to the shipping crane above. Two more were pasted quite literally against the ship, only their faces visible. Peter was having fun, it seemed.

"Rhodey - how am I looking here?" You asked, taking deep breaths.

He answered almost immediately. "Two more are heading your way - still no sign of Stane. Are you sure he's out here? I mean, it's obvious these goons are trigger-happy, but we could be dealing with a diversion. There's been enough time to smuggle someone out."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. here yet? Because this can't continue for long."

You didn't receive an answer, but you hadn't really expected one either. It wasn't like you had time to wait around when bullets were flying - and at least you'd thinned the herd quite a bit. With only half the original force remaining, if that, these hired guns were outmatched, now. Outmatched by a seventeen-year old in red pajamas.

"Hey, Shellhead - I'm getting some real wiggy feelings from the ship," Peter commented, sounding remarkably calm for someone who was just fingerling himself through the air like an acrobat on speed. "Are you sure they didn't rig that thing to blow? It'd suck if we went in there and just found a complimentary fireball."

"Can't be sure, but I don't see why they'd rig their own escape route," you muttered. "What's with this 'wiggy' feeling, anyway?"

"Um - It's an extra sense, sort of? Danger detection? It's how I avoid crashing into things, dodge people, that sort of thing. Advance warning."

"Seriously?" You demanded. "That's just cheating. Who the hell knows about spiders that have precognition, anyway?" You frowned. "You 'sensed' something from the ship, though?"

"Yeah. Something bad's gonna happen…"

"Keep an eye out. Rhodey - cover me," You took a deep breath, gathering yourself as you threw yourself around the corner, arm raised and aimed before either of the two figures that approached could fire. The first was hit in the face by the blast, and slammed backwards to tackle the second.

"We need to get onto the ship - get Obi out, then leave before hell breaks loose like Spidey thinks," you said clearly. "Jarvis - do we have a route in there?"

"Yes, but there are at least six more armed combatants present inside the vessel, sir."

"Only six?" you joked. "It's -"

You didn't get to finish your sentence. "Sir! I am reading severe radiation levels in your vicinity - potentially lethal," Jarvis declared, louder than before. Judging from the startled pause in Peter's swing back onto the crane, he'd heard it too. "I am reading large amounts of beta radiation emanating from the direction of the vessel."

"They've got a nuke in there?" You demanded incredulously. "Since when? Why didn't you notice it before? How do nukes appear out of thin air?" You skidded to a halt as you saw a positively huge figure departing the ship, carrying an over-sized gun under his arm. "It's not - that guy, is it? What are we dealing with, here? A dirty bomb?"

Rhodey spoke up. "That guy's dragging a helicopter weapon around in his bare hands, Tony - that's not human. It's - crazy. He's wearing more Kevlar than I thought was possible. I don't think shooting him's going to do much good unless I get him in the face. And that would be pretty bad if we want to question him."

Fantastic - another super soldier. That was a secondary concern, though, for the moment. "I'm more worried about the radiation," you muttered. "Beta radiation - that's electrons. What the hell would put out mass quantities of those? Some kind of weird railgun? Star Trek phasers?" You were about to make up something else, when you noticed it. A blue glow that emanated from the top of the weapon. "Jarvis - what's the power source on that thing, exactly?"

The AI's silence lasted for longer than you were used to. "Sir, it - appears to resemble an arc reactor,"he said at last, reluctant. "The closest visual analogue is the large model situated at the Stark building, scaled down to fit the weapon.I cannot make any deeper analysis with this much interference."

You couldn't believe it.

You really couldn't believe it. Not only had the arc reactor's improved technology been kept in-house, but it had been kept in-brain, so far. The production details had not leaked - they could not have leaked. Also, an arc reactor did not put out any appreciable radiation, certainly not enough to make Jarvis freak out from a hundred feet away, given that you were carrying one around in your chest.

That meant the weapon looked like it ran on arc reactor - but it was something else. The design was entirely cosmetic, nothing more. There was only one reason you could see someone doing that: to discredit your new power source before it had even gone to market, to associate it with weaponry early. Exactly what you'd hypothesized just days earlier. Which meant that more than likely, someone was taping all this.

"Jarvis - are you still scrambling nearby recording equipment?"

"Of course, sir."

Recording or not, if the gun didn't really run on an arc reactor, the blue glow would have to make sense another way - and the electrons were the key to solving that puzzle. When particles were accelerated to a higher speed than light in a medium, which possible, then a special kind of radiation was emitted. Usually that just happened in nuclear pools - but here it was happening right in front of your eyes. These were the telltale shine of Cherenkov radiation.

"Peter, don't come near that thing! My suit can take it, yours can't."

"But -" Peter protested.

"Don't worry - I got this. Jarvis - launch!"

The blast of the engines roared to life in the distance, and a huge plume of water ascended high into the sky behind the ship, carrying your armor along in the spray. The suit pivoted, twisting slowly on its axis until it faced the other way, and fell at speed towards the solid stonework of the loading platform. The boot jets didn't even fire as the suit crashed down with enough force to crack the concrete, opening up to let you slip in.

All the best plans failed when you met the enemy - but you still had a shot to win. Right here, right now.

It was time to go to town.

You turned slowly towards the new threat, the suit latching itself closed around you as you did. The blue glow of your enemy's weapon brightened ominously.

It was true that you'd made a lot of weapons in your day - cluster missiles, miniature remote detonators, the mother of all landmines - but there was one area you'd always willfully strayed far clear from, even when the government tried to arrange a deal. That was one of the few times that you had agreed with your dad's company policies: chemical warfare research was tolerated, biological experiments had the occasional moment in the limelight, but the company had never gone truly nuclear.

Granted, building the bastard cousin of a fusion reactor was a recent project of yours, but even that was not something that actually irradiated anyone; the greatest risks were related to toxicity of the components, not riddling your body with cancer. But the Arc Reactor was the most stable application of the technology you could imagine, and even that scared you with its potential, which said enough about all the other possibilities. You'd never even considered building a proper nuke - or even designing one in more than errant sketches that were quickly shredded afterwards.

You'd stayed very far away from weaponizing one of the most dangerous forces ever discovered, but it had hardly been for humanitarian reasons. The same worry that plagued your progress on making the arc reactor an actual commercial product, had always clouded the potential of nuclear energy. In the wrong hands, such technology could be truly monstrous.

"Stay back. I mean it," you said shortly as the suit slipped closed around your limbs, fastening itself as bolts turned on their own. You didn't specify to whom the message applied - Rhodey, Peter or S.H.I.E.L.D. - because it didn't matter. "Jarvis, engage the protective latticework, and make sure you're monitoring if the armor's taking all the beating. I'd like to avoid a tan."

"Sir, the suit's resistance against outside threats is largely reliant on it being tightly sealed - a feature not present in the travel configuration you are presently using."

There was a long, tense silence, and you grimaced. Without Jarvis's perfect control over assembling the suit around your body, it would only keep out perhaps ninety or ninety-five percent of environmental hazards. Which would be fine in most cases, if not for the fact that you really, really weren't interested in getting skin cancer - or worse, seeing as the eye slots were rather poorly isolated. There was nothing like going blind on your first day out…

"Engage the secondary protective layer, then," you said as you faced the brute with his over-sized weapon. The man seemed amused at your hesitance, perhaps aware just how dangerous the gun he carried was - even if he bore it like a club. "The resistance upgrade should help, right?"

"That system is not complete, sir. Without further hardening, parts of it might fail when exposed to -"

"Yeah, yeah, I know it's not finished. I built it, remember," you said irritably. "Activate it anyway. Some protection beats none - and I'm the only one who can even get close to the guy as it is..."

"Of course, sir."

The sizzle of electricity just above your skin felt oddly reassuring, though you knew it was only a partial fix for dealing with the radiation. You hadn't even finished the backside of the second layer, which meant that part of you was protected by only thin layers of metal and fabric, interlocking poorly enough to let through an unhealthy amount of radiation directly into your spine. Which would probably kill you. On the bright side - you wouldn't go blind. Yay.

"Spidey," you whispered as you set a heavy foot forward, drawing the brute's attention as your eyes strayed to the ship. "You can't go near this guy, and I'm serious about that. Odds are that if he's got a heavy-duty nuclear source in there, he's gonna break out the gamma rays any moment now. I can take a bit of a beating - you are wearing nylon."

Peter sounded miffed across the radio. "I can do ranged! I've got these nifty things called webs, you see..."

"Well, Rhodey can do ranged stuff too," you said immediately. "I don't think Brick-for-brains here is a genius, so I doubt he's the head honcho either. The guy's holding a nuke with his bare hands, for crying out loud! Keep an eye on the masked chick for me, would you? If you get a shot at dragging Obi out, then take it - but keep yourself safe."

"I'm being benched for this? Seriously?"

"Webhead - we all have our roles, and you're not the guy wearing radiation-hardened heavy metal power armor." You raised your fists, revealing the full-sized repulsors inside. "Just back me up for now."

"...Alright."the boy replied, and though he sounded despondent, you could tell there was something more going on. You decided to leave that for another time.

"...Hey, ugly!" you cried out then, amplified by your armor, and you walked closer to the heavily-armed brute with your hands raised, twin repulsors glowing dangerously. The huge man raised his brow, tapping his gun with his free hand as he smiled, exposing teeth that were stained brown. Damn, he really was ugly. "...Wanna put that thing away?" you asked, nodding to the gun. "Fight this out with fists?"

Well, you hadn't really expected it to work, but it was worth a shot.

"Stark," the man rumbled, sniffing the air as he shook his head. "Where is your little skittery friend, huh? I was looking forward to crushing that bug." He grinned. "Well, I suppose you will do. I never thought you'd dare to come yourself…"

"...Am I supposed to know who you are?" you inquired slowly.

The man's smile turned to a scowl, and his eyes seemed to glow with inner light. "You always were a jackass, Stark. Four years I worked for you - four years of perfect service. And you don't even remember my face."

You blinked in confusion. "I run a company with hundreds, maybe thousands of employees," you explained simply, wracking your mind over where you'd seen the guy before. Not R&D certainly, nor anything that required expertise - it had to be personal protection, or driving. "I don't know all my employees. So, what are you saying, anyway? You were let go, and now you're out for revenge with hand-held nukes?Have to tell ya - kind of an overreaction."

"Not everything is about you," the huge man mumbled. "I was hired to do a job here, and I intend to fulfill it. Whether or not you are in a tin can doesn't matter to me." He raised his giant rifle again, smirking. "I've been enhanced. Your steel doesn't scare me in the least."

"Enhanced?"

He smirked, tapping his weapon lovingly. "This beauty here… Betsy's my baby, but Lola's a close second. Nobody else can wield her like I can." He grinned widely. "She's… magnificent."

So - he named his weapons.

"He named that thing Lola?" Rhodey commented distantly. "I suppose it beats Little Boy…"

"I don't remember you," you said carefully, ignoring the voice in your ear. "I'm willing to strike a deal - I don't want to hurt you if I don't need to. If you let me pass, I won't attack."

"Why would you remember me?" the huge man wondered. "We've never met before."

You blinked in confusion. "Didn't you just say -"

"SHUT UP!" your opponent barked savagely, rage bursting into existence from nowhere. "YOU DIE, NOW!"

You heard Rhodey's distant warnings in your ear, and you probably would've heard Coulson if you hadn't muted him, but you didn't hesitate. Twin beams of searing light erupted from your palms, full-power repulsors tearing across the bulky weapon of your opponent and leaving a bright glowing line behind, smoking slightly.

The seven foot tall giant didn't wait around for a second shot, whipping his gun around even as it smoldered in his hand, essentially undamaged. It wasn't just powerful, it was tough.

"Sir! I am detecting potentially lethal build-up of energy!"Jarvis piped up.

"Jarvis? I just activated primary and secondary protections. That should be enough to take a missile to the face," you noted in disbelief as you skidded back, hovering barely an inch above the ground with your repulsors. "How freaking powerful is that gun, anyway?"

You didn't have time to think about the numbers, because the weapon burst into blue light at its apex, and little red warnings lights blinked into sight as Jarvis blurted some warning or another into your ears. You'd reacted before your A.I. could finish his sentence, whipping your arms to the side in reflex. With a burst of concentrated energy, uncoordinated and sudden, you flung yourself out of the figure's path, out of the beam's path.

In your wake, everything went crystalline white.

For a long, unmentionable moment, it seemed as if you were weightless, and the world was utterly silent - then the noise came. A wave of incredible sound, a cacophony that was dulled to still painful levels by the suit, thundering right through layers of metal and isolating materials. When the light around you resolved back into recognizable shapes, they weren't the same ones as before. It had been a glancing blow.

"What the -" you asked yourself half-coherently, realizing that you had tossed yourself head-over-heels behind some of the shipping containers that lined the harbor, embedding your metal-ringed torso halfway into the concrete as you slammed down into the ground. You couldn't hear whether Peter or Rhodey had been close enough to be hit - they were a lot farther off than you, at least. They were probably fine.

What the hell was that?!

"Jarvis?" you demanded breathlessly. "Status!"

"Sir - you were hit by a concentrated blast of electrical energy, as well as an anomalous energy signature that is not in the database," the AI explained swiftly. "The armor's primary protections are largely intact - several secondary protections have failed and will need manual repair."

Fantastic. You crawled upright slowly, wincing inside the suit when it chafed and scraped against your skin as plates shifted back and forth. Without the tighter connections that Jarvis could provide, something had clearly shaken loose. On top of the damage, your side hurt, again, probably because your wound had opened again - and you could taste blood on your tongue.

"Where is he, Jarvis?"

"Sir - Might I suggest retreating? The enemy's weapon's clearly too powerful for the armor to adequately handle, and S.H.I.E.L.D. should be arriving within minutes. They will likely have more effective measures for dealing with this threat."

"Oh god, you're a Coulson fanboy now, aren't you?" you asked, taking a deep breath. "You're a traitor, that's what you are. Now tell me, where is he? Use a Geiger counter if you need to, sheesh!"

"Of course, sir. The target is - Warning: two-hundred feet and closing. One-hundred. Twenty -"

"Ah, f-" You blasted off with all four repulsors, and your breath was knocked out of you just as another burst of white passed by just below you, a beam of electrons and something else that billowed outward across the half-destroyed containers, vanishing in fractions of a second and leaving only blackened remains. "Fiddlesticks?" you finished halfheartedly as you caught yourself, remembering who was listening.

"Tony - get the hell out of there!"Rhodey called across the radio. "That weapon -"

"Yeah. Time to get rid of it," you murmured as you turned in the air, keeping up your speed as you followed the giant's slow and ponderous movements. You knew it had to be a facade - it could be nothing else after he'd almost hit you twice with that massive gun of his. When he wanted to, the enormous figure could move incredibly quickly, his bodybuilder physique hiding someone nearly as dexterous as Peter. "Rhodey - switch over to actual bullets if you haven't yet, maybe some explosive ones. I think that on this guy, they'll be distractions,mostly."

"Already done. They're - bouncing off his skin."

You nodded as you brought forward both your arms, balancing on the jets in your boots. The figure below you twitched, bringing his weapon up and aiming with precision, just as you got ready to blast off again. "Right, Jarvis - focus all power to the front of the armor. We need to survive at least a second of the beam. If this guy's as sturdy as all that, nothing less will do."

"You wish to take the beam's full force? Sir, the risk is -"

"Never tell me the odds," you barked. "Divert all gathered power to left hand repulsor, and be ready to fire as soon as it's charged!"

You only realized in that moment, a stretched out second before the face-off, why the weapon you faced seemed so strange.Beyond the facsimile of an Arc Reactor that was bolted to the top of it, it had an aesthetic that was altogether different from any military design you knew. The rounded edges, glowing lines, and the thick armor suggested it was more a show-model than a real weapon - but it certainly felt genuine.

But what was most telling was the huge, over-sized grip on the bottom, unused by the man who faced you. It was as if the weapon had been made for a hand three times the size of even its current user, a massive claw of a hand. It was a weapon for a real giant.

The blue glow of the Cherenkov effect intensified for a split second when energy flowed forward in a wave from the barrel of the gun, resolving into a beam as it interacted with the atmosphere around it. The very air caught on fire as it passed at incredible speed, and a mixture of high-speed electrons, wild bursts of electricity, and something other impacted on the chest section of your armor. You were pushed up into the sky by a surge of raw destruction, annihilation in nuclear form.

You heard a distant cry, piercing and high-pitched, as you pushed your hand-repulsor forward into the onslaught, and squeezed the trigger.

There was only white.

White.

Everything was white and hotter than the sun, incandescent and luminous.

The very air was light, matter turned to joyful energy as it rushed outwards in all directions, freed from its constraints.

It felt wonderful.

Everything felt - it felt -

White.

You opened your eyes in surprise, but nothing changed. You couldn't feel a thing - not even your own body. There was no heat, no cold, no touch. You weren't even sure you'd really moved, because there was no way to tell. There was just light.

"...Am I dead?" you tried to ask, but the question bounced around only inside your mind. It was impossible to tell if it had made its way out into a real world, if there was anyone around to hear. You couldn't see anything more than the brightness, couldn't hear anything but your own thoughts, your own imagination. The whole of everything was - you.

This had to be -

White.

You remembered firing the repulsor, blasting your way downwards towards the cascade that flowed from the barrel of that monstrous, alien weapon. You remembered the fire from your make-shift blast interacting with the electron stream, with the power that it channeled towards you. For an instant, it had been a futile endeavor, a hopelessly weak counter - then something else had joined your shot - a conflagration of unimaginably hot fire, a fearful cry of might.

In the face of what was unleashed, the weapon had exploded.

Fire followed in its wake - incredible flames, an inferno that had incinerated everything that was there at the heart of the collision, a flash of heat that should have evaporated you, cooked the flesh off your bones, and turned the bones to dust and ash. The heat was too great to imagine, hotter than the core of suns.

"Seriously, am I dead? How can I be dead if I can still think?" you tried to ask. "Hello?"

Peter had called out, in the last few moments - you remembered his voice. You'd seen him from the corner of your eye, a distant spot of red-and-blue, silhouetted against the sky. He'd been headed your way, despite his promise to stay out of the way - of course he would risk his life. He was a hero.

Rhodey - he had said something, too. Called your name, from way out in his distant perch, his eagle's nest. Whatever he'd said, though, it had slipped away into the -

White.

Something had changed. You felt a distant tingle across your skin, a flash of pain that lasted too briefly to truly hurt. In the distance, in the whiteness, great towers of unimaginable size stretched out into nothingness, forbidding structures that seemed as inviting as they were terrifying. And between them, suspended in the air, something gargantuan floated.

It was greater than worlds, more luminous than a whole galaxy even in the brightness.

An egg.

Pain flashed through you, a burst of agony that seared your skin, made you remember you had skin in the first place. You welcomed the feeling, realizing that it meant you were alive - alive, even a little bit.

The towers faded back into the mist, but the egg remained, surrounded by a red glow that reminded you of a terrible moment you had tried to forget. They were vapors of another place that should not exist, beyond the white and the real world, existing in the...

Gray.

The white had gone, and it was only then that you shivered, realizing that the coldness you felt wasn't cold at all - that you'd been caught in unbearable heat, before, even if you did not mind it. You recognized the cold only after you'd lost its antithesis.

There was nothing to see, now. Nothing except a mirror, an image of yourself that stared back with a small smile playing around the edges of his mouth. Then there was eerie -

Black.

Not much of the moment remained in your memory.

Just enough to matter.

"Tony!"someone yelled into your ear as you gasped in surprise or shock, taking in a deep, desperate gulp of air. You were on the ground, on your back, tangled in webbing - and a vast plume of smoke was smeared across the sky above you. A black shape among them resolved into red and blue. "Are you alright in there?" Peter asked.

You were alive.

Alive.

The mask of the suit opened on its own, probably at Jarvis's unspoken command - or perhaps you'd simply failed to hear him through the beeping in your ears. Peter seemed relieved as you met his eyes, even through his mask - it was unusually expressive. You raised an arm to try and set his mind at ease, but it rose only slowly.

"...What happened?" you wondered.

"Tony!" Rhodey yelled into your air through the radio. "What the hell did you think you were doing? You could have died!"

"...I know that, Pepper," you murmured distantly, blinking in confusion as you glanced down towards the direction of the ship - only to find a vast column of steam rising up into the sky, towering over the flattened shape of the man you'd been fighting. You could tell he was breathing, still - his barrel-chest was moving up and down slowly - but he would not be using his gun again. Lola was scattered in pieces across the docks.

Shit.

"Get out! Radioactive materials from that gun have to be everywhere!" you declared. "Jarvis?!"

"I am reading only slightly elevated levels of radiation, sir. The source of the beta radiation that was generated is at present unknown."

"Huh. New research project, I guess," you murmured as you turned around, heaving yourself upright and vomiting all over your armor. "...Ugh."

Peter laughed under his breath, perhaps a little hysterically.

"Well, that was - violent," you said after a little while, trying to make rhyme or reason of that moment you'd been locked into the beam, captured within its heart. For an instant, it seemed as if space and time had been ripped apart, dissected before your eyes. And now everything was right back down to earth. It didn't make sense.

For a moment, it seemed as if the stolen weapons, the bickering with S.H.I.E.L.D. and hiring Peter were irrelevant concerns, compared to what you'd seen in that moment. Was that a near-death experience? You'd nearly-died enough to be due for one...

"...Let's just get Obi," you said at last, reluctantly turning away from the person you'd defeated, though you weren't sure how.You'd intended to fire into the barrel of the nuclear gun, cutting right past the heavy armor and into the firing mechanism - but you were certain that the repulsor ray had never reached the inside at all, overpowered by the nuclear gun. That meant it had reacted with the beam itself, somehow. You had caused an implosion - but you had no idea what had reacted to make that happen.

With a shiver, you thought back to the cave, to that wave of incandescent fury as you lit the Pyre.

That was what you'd been reminded of.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is requesting an explanation of the explosion," Jarvis announced dryly."Quite vigorously, I might add."

"Put them through," you muttered, and you didn't wait for the agency to speak up. "Heya, Coulson!" you said lamely. "I just defused a nuclear threat with extreme prejudice - so you're welcome for that. I am fine, thank you. Now, stop spamming the line, and let me get on with ass-kicking, or get yourself over here. Slowpoke."

"This is not Agent Coulson," a new voice spoke in reply, sounding rather more severe than the amicable man you'd met, and you paused.

"Um, hi? Who is this?"

"I am Director Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. I am currently en route to survey the situation - if it has not already been resolved. You have made many people very nervous, Mr. Stark."

"So, you're the big Kahuna himself, huh?" You asked, still breathless. "What can I do for ya?"

"You can work with me. Two significant threats to national security are present at your - operation. One of them is considered a major hazard."

"Let me guess - you're talking about a gal with a mask, and a guy who never has to worry about radiation sickness?" you wondered dryly as you limped over to the unconscious form of the man you'd taken out. "You can come pick up the latter. I'm still working on the other one."

"His name is Frank Simpson - he's a long-term interest of ours."

"...He said he used to work for me," you murmured. "Is that true?"

"Not according to our files. I'm afraid that Mr. Simpson is - delusional. It is doubtful that anything he says is trustworthy."

You sighed. "And the nuke? How did he get his hands on it?"

"Unknown - but we are working on that question," Fury grumbled. "We have also been tracing the activity of the assassin known as Madame Masque for some time, and we suspected you had hired her services on behalf of your company. Recent events seem to draw that conclusion into question."

"Really now? Was it the attempts on my life that tipped you off?" you asked dryly. "Because I would count those."

"The second most likely person to be responsible for hiring them is presently unaccounted for. I believe you are looking for him."

You felt a shiver run down your back. "You're not implying…?"

"Mr. Obadiah Stane was spotted conversing with a person by the description of Madame Masque just two days ago. It is likely that he is involved in a dispute between the assassin and her - superior."

Obi had hired assassins? The very idea seemed utterly preposterous, akin to Rhodey betraying you to the military, or Pepper finally jumping into bed with you. And even if you did buy into the idea of Obadiah going for such low-blow tactics, he would never send them after his protégé. Hell, he'd had you all alone on multiple occasions, at his mercy - and in those moments he'd given you the key to his part of the company, and confessed his own fears and worries.

If anything, Obi had been protecting you.

"You're wrong," you said clearly. "He is not the one you're after."

"Mr. Stark -"

"Don't Mr. Stark me," you snapped. "Coulson - your lackey - told me you believe the bastards that kidnapped me in Afghanistan were connected to the attempt on Pym's life, and probably to these guys as well. Even if that's true, I'm not buying that Obi's behind it."

"The attempt on Dr. Pym's life was perpetrated by the same people who hired the Ten Rings terrorist group, as well as Madame Masque and her companion," Fury said slowly. "They share a common source. That is true."

"But that common source is not Obadiah," you concluded, narrowing your eyes. "Deadpool wasn't there to scare me at all, was he? Over in Vegas? He really was just after Pym. You lied to me to get a foot in the door, because you knew that I was your way in."

"It was for your own safety," the Director said calmly. "Deception for a good cause."

"So says the inquisition?" you murmured, muting the channel. You would have to think about the trustworthiness of S.H.I.E.L.D. later - or how the different assassins and kidnappers were connected. Did they all have a single common master?

You had a way to find out.

"...Spidey, I'm probably concussed, so you'll have to help me out here," you said after a moment. "The woman - is she still there?"

Peter helped you up, supporting the heavy frame of your armor without visible effort. "I don't know, but I can swing over?"

"Yeah. Obi - we need him alive," you said. "Alive - and out of S.H.I.E.L.D. hands if possible. If they're convinced he's behind this mess, they might toss him in jail - and then we'll never figure out who's really behind all this." You nodded, wincing as a stab of pain erupted behind your eyes. "I know it has to be someone else, and I don't intend to let this lead slip."

"I'll… go find him," Peter said solemnly. "I'll be back in a minute."

"...Spider-Man," you said quickly, just in time to stop yourself from blurting his name. "The woman - we need to track her down, after all this - she's our lead to the bigger picture. There's some devices in my -"

"I got that covered," the boy noted quickly, swinging away.

Bemused, you looked on as the boy flung himself across the harbor with his usual incredible dexterity, leaving you alone in your dented suit, still smoking from the blast. The beeping noise in one ear was slowly fading away, and Rhodey's voice was audible vaguely from the headset you'd lost at some point, hanging by a thread from your shirt.

"Jarvis - what kind of dose did I get back there?" you asked.

"Your radiation exposure was - limited."

You frowned worriedly. "That's not what I asked."

"...A Doctor's appointment is prudent - but you are unlikely to suffer radiation sickness from the dose. The secondary layer protected your vital organs."

You let out a long-suffering sigh. "You're being unusually tactful about this, which means it's probably bad news. Gamma rays and whatever was in that unknown stuff, I'm sure. Do we still have the treatment kit at the house?"

"You have never removed it."

Despite the real risk of injury from the exposure, and the realization that you'd have to dig into your father's old emergency supplies, your mind wasn't really on the present at all. A strange, shrill song echoed in the back of your mind, in a miasma of light and heat.

"Tony?" Peter's voice came a few minutes later, subdued. "I - found Mr. Stane. You'd better call an ambulance."

The world seemed somehow colder than before.