A/N: Here's installment #2 of 3. :)

Two

All he'd wanted to know was if Andy was telling the truth. That is all he wanted to know. Just a simple little thing. Truth, Tony would write a check so the former kidnapper would be represented by a crack-team of lawyers. Not the truth, he gets whatever no-money can buy.

That's all it had been.

No phone calls in the middle of the night. That wasn't part of the plan. No kids sounding like their world was ending when their apparently less than role model mother decided to step out with a small-time….well, okay. Mid-to-maybe-Big-Time Gangster….and then not come home.

After doing something so moronic, of course you'll turn up missing. Tony might push the envelope, but even he knew that kind of behavior was just plain stupid.

And he'd just been about to finish his project. Probably...

Scowling, he shifted to fifth and floored it. The Audi jumped forward, weaving painlessly through the near three am traffic.

I should just call the cops. Good deed for the day, complete. No sweat.

A voice on the other end of the phone, the quaver in it a good clue that tears were on their way. "Please mister. Can you help?"

No sweat, sure. But first he had to see the kid himself and know he was safe. Then he'd call the cops. It wouldn't feel right to call from the safety of his mansion knowing there was a child sitting in a wretched apartment, alone and crying. It really wasn't very far.

"Sir. If I may say, you've been cursing under your breath for the past five minutes. Is there some way I can be of assistance?"

In retrospect, the visit to the tenement complex had been a horrible mistake. "Yeah, Jarvis. Do me a favor. Next time let me know when something's not a good idea."

"Of course, sir. How neglectful of me." Tony hadn't programmed Jarvis for sarcasm. How had that happened, exactly?

The street was quiet when he pulled up to the curb, the building dark except for the safety light in the lobby and the dim lighting on the stairs at the front entrance.

Sitting in the cocoon of his sports car, he took in the barren street, dark with shadows. He looked up at the gloom of the sleeping tenement. Steeling himself, he shifted into park, turning the key to shut the vehicle off.

And Jarvis nearly scared him out of his skin. "Sir. As requested, I am notifying you that this is not…."

"…a Good Idea." Tony sighed, taking a deep breath and willing his heart to slow down before it exploded. "Duly noted, Jarvis."

"Very good, sir."

Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Tony got out of the car and walked up to the building. With more pressure than absolutely necessary, he punched 5, 1, 7 on the intercom keypad. A tinny ringing sounded through the speaker. "Hello?"

"It's me, kid. Let me up, so we can talk."

A buzz sounded. Steeling himself, Tony pushed the front door open and stepped inside. Looking at the stairs confronting him, he groaned. Was the elevator still out of order? Ayep. The sorry looking sign was still taped to the double-sliding doors.

Heaving another breath, he started up the stairwell, ignoring the paranoia that nibbled at him. Admiral Akbar's nasally voice echoed in his imagination. "It's a trap!"

He ignored the uneasy flutter in his stomach, deciding instead that it was vitally important that he count the number of stairs until he reached the fifth floor.

Pepper is going to be really mad at you if you get yourself killed.

Sixty-five stairs later, he opened the door to faded carpet and a tentatively lit hallway. The air was still and silent. 517 was near the end of the hall and it didn't make him feel any more comfortable to be faced with having to pass so many closed doors on the way there. Somehow, everything seemed so much more sinister at three in the morning. Maybe it was the stretch of shadow between each of the clearly inadequate light fixtures. What were those, 20-watt bulbs? He nodded to himself, eyes flicking across closed doors, down the tomb-quiet stretch of hall to the door that was his goal. Yeah. If sinister had a favorite time, it was three a.m.

It was a quick walk, though. Before he had time to truly be spooked he was standing at the door. Three smart raps on the wooden frame and the door opened just enough to frame a tousled head. The kid's wary eyes greeted him. There was worry there, but thankfully no tears. "Hi mister."

His eyes narrowed. "Hey, kid. Did your mom show up?"

The little mouth turned down. "No. I," and he paused strangely, "I got a number for where she said she was gonna be tonight, but they just hung up on me …." The door creaked as the boy opened it further, his face now an impressive imitation of a starving puppy. There was no soft-light filter here, though. Just stark shadows in the gloom of the hallway…it made the boy's face look like something out of a late night creep show. "Maybe if you called, they'd talk to you."

"…"

"Pleease mister?"

There was that strange pause again. Brow creasing, Tony didn't need to have Jarvis there to tell him this had been a phenomenally bad idea. What was he even doing here? Suddenly soured to the whole idea of this late night rescue mission, Tony huffed a breath. For a genius, he was pretty stupid sometimes.

"Um. Thanks but no thanks, kid. I think I'll wait out here." He pulled out his cell. "The PD'll be able to help you better than I can."

Before the words had a chance to fade, the door in front of him was thrown back, the boy pushed roughly out of the way by two unsavory types. Thick-necked and bulky, heavy-browed and tiny eyed, even their muscles looked aggressive. They both held guns. "That's not a good idea, Mr. Stark," said the first, beckoning to the smart-phone in his hand.

Mouth twisting, Tony handed it over. "Yeah. I'm getting that." The other sneered, beckoned, indicating that Tony move inside.

Stepping over the threshold, he caught sight of the boy, standing awkwardly off to the side and looking at his feet. He was blinking fast and snuffling. He looked miserable. It occurred to Tony that with his tousled brown hair and faded blue eyes, he looked a lot like Andy. "I'm sorry, mister Ironman."

"Me too, kid."

One of the men turned around. Tony dubbed him Goon #1. He looked appreciatively at Tony's leather jacket, but seemed to quickly realize that was no way in the world it would fit. Making a face, the man quickly patted him down, turning out his pockets. Wallet, keys, lint. They went on the table near the door, with his cell phone. Goon #2 gestured with his gun and Tony followed him down the indoor hallway and into what looked like a living room. Vaguely, Tony registered the child was coming along with them and even pissed as he was, he worried about that. The hall opened up to a living room roughly the size of a shoebox. The goon brothers looked out of place and uncomfortable in the close quarters, but the other two people in the room didn't seem to notice.

Yay. It's a party.

Still keeping tabs on the boy, Tony knew he'd stopped near the door, just outside of his peripheral vision behind him and to the left. The goons settled in along the open wall on the right, looking a hell of a lot like stone golems, ugly and watchful … crossing their arms and leaning back on the peeling paint.

It was obvious who was in charge here, so Tony turned his attention to the couple.

The man was grossly thin, with an air of rotting evil. "Good job, Devin." The child sniffled and said nothing. Turning his attention to his unwilling guest, he smiled nastily, more gold than white. He was obviously much more pleased to see Tony than Tony was to see him.

Pepper's going to kill me.

Strangely, that worried him more than knowing he was in danger of being dead. Briefly, he felt a twinge of unease that he wasn't really bothered by the situation the way he should be. A small part of his mind wondered if he'd been through this kind of crap too many times. Just because he'd seen it before, it didn't make it any less dangerous.

Maybe he was broken now.

"Momma. Can't we let him go?" The tears were back in the boy's voice.

"Shut up, Devin." The woman's snapped words didn't hide the odd quality of her voice. Combined with the glassy look in her eyes, it was easy to see she was high on something.

"Please, momma?"

"Devin!"

"Shut it, Kate," Gaunt man growled, his own voice colored with the sound of narcotics. "And shut yer' kid up." Stalking over to the boy, the woman cuffed him upside the head. He made a little cry and Tony tensed, gut clenching at the sound. Seeing the goons react to his reaction, tiny eyes going all watchful and alert, he forced himself to relax. The woman moved back to stand next to nasty-man and he could see that she wasn't right. She was trembling, ever so slightly. Her hands weren't steady and her eyes were glassy, shifting restlessly at the slightest movement from any of the others. She was definitely high on something. Even as his stomach turned over, Tony saw that she was pretty, in a simple country-girl kind of way. She was middle height, with shoulder-length brown hair. A dusting of freckles across her cheekbones made her seem younger than she probably was. As she settled back into place next to the ringleader, Nasty-man threw a look at her that made her flinch away from him and she lifted one shaky hand, obviously expecting to be hit.

Tony's jaw tightened. He'd known. Andy had told him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had thought it couldn't be this bad. That somehow, Andy was exaggerating. Maybe it was because he wanted to believe that there wasn't an excuse for what Andy had done. That Andy really did deserve what he got because "everyone has a choice".

But he looked around this room and remembered the state of the buildings these people lived in. Not everyone had the resources Tony did, most not even a small fraction. Before he may not have thought too deeply on that, but now, after Afghanistan, Tony knew the feeling of desperation in a way not many with his money ever would.

What would he have done in Andy's shoes?

He brought his mind back to focus on Mr. Gaunt. It wasn't good policy to let your guard down around a gang leader and his minions. He should probably pay attention. "What do you want," he drawled. "I left my checkbook at home." He waited, wondering how greedy the guy was, placing a mental bet with himself on how many zeroes he was going to ask for.

"The suit."

"…what?"

"The suit. I want it."

He shouldn't have been surprised. Hell. Obie had tried to kill him for it. It made sense others would be willing to do the same.

Gaunt McNastyman stood up, stalking a few steps closer. He stopped, just out of reach. Absently, Tony noted that the man's right eye was twitching. "I'm tired of this two-bit shit. I have that suit of yours, I can take the whole Eastside."

It took a minute for that to sink in.

Seriously?

Gangs weren't a joke. Too many kids, too many lives were ruined by them. But Tony knew damn well that as Ironman he could take over a small country - if he truly wished it. This tweaker just wanted to expand his territory. How petty could you get? Something in his demeanor must have shown his reaction, because the other man reached back – pulling out a large and wickedly curved knife. It looked sharp and ridiculously huge in the drug dealer's hand. Irritation flashed quickly as his heart sped up. Compensating much? Tony risked a glance around and saw that the goon-golems were sitting with relative disinterest, apparently only waiting for their boss to direct them. And Kate…

Her eyes were flitting between Devin, Tony and her boyfriend. The fingers of the hand she'd used to strike her boy were twined in her shirt, twisting the edge of the cloth and pulling it out of shape. She still seemed out of it, but Tony could see a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Could almost feel the anxiety rolling off her. Inwardly he smiled. Apparently, bad habits aside, Andy's little sister didn't have much of a taste for this kind of thing either.

He caught her eyes. Her gaze flitted away briefly, but snapped back to his quickly enough. Something she saw there must have bothered her, because she blinked quickly and looked down. Tony could just barely see a miserable flush of shame creep across her face.

Okay, then.

Ignoring the weapon, he said, "I can't help you…I didn't bring the Ironman suit with me." He spread his arms to illustrate the point. It probably would have been smarter not to sound like a smart-ass.

McNasty advanced on him, that eye of his still twitching. He pressed the cold metal up against Tony's jaw. "Think you have the power here, rich man?" He was close enough for Tony to see the clogged pores on the man's filthy skin. He inhaled a tight breath, almost gagging at the whiff he got of old sweat, rotting teeth and who knew what else.

"There's this thing called toothpaste. It really helps." He hissed as the blade pushed harder, pricking at his skin and tipping his head back. Shut up, Tony. He's crazy and insecure…he might kill you just for the bragging rights.

Making an angry sound, the man sneered. "Shut up." His eyes were oddly dilated, from drugs or something else Tony didn't know, but they darted unevenly around the room and settled on his minions where they were imitating statues against the wall. Maybe judging to see if he'd lost any status with them. He needn't have worried. They didn't appear to really be listening. "Well, we'll just have to go get it then. Joey, get over here."

One of the statues detached itself from the wall, pulling some duct tape from a pocket with a massive paw. Heart sinking, Tony found his arms behind his back, wincing at the pull to his still-healing injuries. Damn, but he really hated this. He'd brought some insurance with him and even now he knew that he could get himself out of this with relative ease. But it would leave Kate and Devin to McNasty's tender mercies. That didn't sit well with him.

Plan B, then.

"Easy, fellas," he said as they pushed him towards the apartment door. The sixty-five step trudge downstairs was tense and silent. Tony couldn't help keeping a tab on the child and the young woman, slightly behind him and one goon back. Though his situation didn't change when they hit the fresh air outside, it was still a relief. Tony could not help but think he was beginning to have issues with closed in areas.

Throwing a longing eye toward his Audi as they pushed him toward a rough looking low rider, he said, "I dunno guys. You sure you want to leave my car here?"

McNasty looked over, considering. "Yeah. You're right…it's too sweet a ride to leave. Who knows what'll happen to it in this neighborhood." He said it like "nayburhud". Walking over to Tony, he reached toward his jacket pocket but Tony was already shaking his head.

"Uh-uh. Sorry, dude. Your guys cleaned my pockets out already, remember? My cell and keys are up in the apartment."

A flash of anger and confusion briefly crossed the other's face. Like he wasn't sure if he was being played. But seeing the worried looks on his men's faces, he made a disgusted sound. "Rufe. Go get his stuff. Hurry it up." Actually, what he said took longer to say and was much more colorful than that, but Tony found it entertaining to try and filter it all down to PG-13.

Tony could see the tiny blue blinking light on the dash of his Audi. Three short blinks, three long blinks, three short. Pause and repeat. To most, it just looked like the alarm was active. Since the Audi didn't have a 'traditional' alarm, it was, Tony thought, a pretty heavy-handed message from Jarvis. He resisted rolling his eyes, even as he was smiling inside. He looked over the group quickly. Jarvis was doing what he could, having obviously picked up on the subtext in McNasty's profanity, so it was up to Tony to make the best of it. And he'd better be quick about it. When Rufe (aka Goon #1) got back with his keys and they stuffed him into a car, his choices would be a lot more limited. He couldn't let that happen. When the door to the apartment building closed on Rufe's lumbering form, the pseudo-captive/inventor made a half-turn to the right, snapping his wrist and twisting his forearm. It was harder than he'd anticipated with his hands behind his back and the creak of pain twinging through his half-healed wound, but c'est la vie. The spring loaded rig under his jacket did just as it was designed to do. The two metal prongs sprung free just as Tony's rotation put them into contact with Goon 2's ribcage. There was a crack, the smell of ozone and the man fell.

See? Easy peasie. McNasty spun around to see what had happened, only to find Tony had freed his hands and was suddenly a lot closer, without a troll-sized barrier between them. Tony wondered if the smile on his face looked as unpleasant as it felt. This whole 'being taken captive' shtick was so last year.

He was definitely over it - and pretty fucking furious at finding himself in this type of situation….again.

It felt like his bad-smelling opponent was moving in slow motion. McNasty's snarling curse, the scrabbling reach behind his back once again for the weapon he had hidden there – whipping his arm around and the shine of the streetlight on grey metal. Almost casually, Tony intercepted that arm, feeling another twinge in his abused shoulder that had him cursing in his head, even as that cold smile remained on his face. Another crack and whiff of ozone.

Hmm. That little trick might be a bit overpowered for a man this size. Tony knelt, looking over the boneless pile of scrawny drug-dealer. He barely acknowledged the faint relief that registered at the rise and fall of the man's chest. Still alive. Absently, he noticed the girl had disappeared (of course) but Devin was still there.

Okay.

Enough of this. "Jarvis, call the police. There's a mess that needs picking up, here."

"Sir, they are already on the way." Sirens sounded in the near-distance. Right about then he caught the sound of running footsteps and turned to see Rufe had exited the apartment during the excitement and was heading south. He sighed.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes sir?"

"Activate the GPS tracking installed on my cellphone. Hopefully 'Rufe' doesn't have the common sense to dump it."

"Certainly sir. Shall I notify the authorities with that information or would you rather … handle things yourself?"

Tony looked over at the boy left standing in the street in front of him, looking terrified and unsure of what to do. Tempted as he was to take the suit out and blow off some steam, he shook his head. "No, Jarvis. I think I've had enough fun for the evening. Give the information to the police."

"Very good sir."

That decided, he turned his full attention to the child in front of him. The boy didn't seem comforted in the least and seemed to be seriously considering bolting. "Hey, kid." Easing forward, he shot a look at the approaching blue and reds. He didn't have much time. This kid would run for it if he looked away…and as soon as the cops got here, there would be too much distraction.

"Devin. Hey….look at me." At the sound of his voice, the boy blinked and rocked back on his heels. Quickly, Tony said, "Devin, it's okay. I know this wasn't your fault." He gestured to the fallen criminals. That defensive look came back. He shifted, his eyes darting – looking for the best exit. The police were very close now. "I came to see you for a reason. Your uncle, your uncle Andy sent me."

The boy's eyes squinted. With a sinking feeling, Tony knew he was about to take off…and who knew how long it would take to find him again? "But you…you're the one got 'im sent him to jail."

He cringed, but wasn't about to lie now. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. It's …look, it's complicated." He gestured with his hands, placating. "But I went to see him. And when I did, your uncle told me you needed help…that your mom needed help."

Kicking himself for what he was about to promise but unable to stop himself, he finished, "I can do that. I'll help you both…just-just don't run."

He flashed back to angry blue eyes and the pain in Pepper's voice, 'he's evil.'

Sorry, Pepper. But he knew Pepper wouldn't let a child live like this if she could prevent it. The wariness in the child's eyes dimmed, just slightly, as LAPD's finest pulled up, surrounding them. Tony wasn't an idiot. He couldn't just let this kid go back to that life. Without the dubious protection of the gang leader, what kind of life would be waiting for the young woman and this boy? At best - the same miserable existence - at worst - much worse.

Kneeling down, he looked into Devin's face. He was close enough to be protective and not close enough to be a threat. He caught the boy's eyes and nodded. "We'll get it all figured out. Okay?" He watched the boy's brow furrow as uniformed men approached them, guns out but lowered, while others moved to the unconscious men behind them. "We'll help your mom, too."

Taking a half-step closer, Devin didn't respond. But he nodded, small and hesitant.

One side of Tony's mouth turned up. Okay then. Progress.