So it's been a really long time...

but I'm going to finish this eventually.

This chapter is titled Superhero

Tony had always wanted to be a superhero when he was little.

He would zoom around the house with a red blanket tied around his neck and a pair of his Dad's science goggles drooping down on his nose. The maids would chuckle and step back to make room for him to run by their carts.

He would spend hours setting up pyramids of cans, to throw his shield at them and send them crashing to the floor.

His shield was his most prized possession at the time. He had taken a piece of cardboard and a giant compass and made it perfectly circular. He cut it out with scissors and covered it with duct tape. It was still pliable, but it was good enough for Little Tony. After hours of measuring and putting marks on it, he outlined the stripes and single star, and colored it in with permanent marker. He took an old jacket of his and cut two strips from it. He put these on the underside and duct taped them in place. He slid his arm through the straps and held it in front of himself, checking it out in the mirror. He was very proud of his shield.

Along with his shield, he would also wear his favorite t-shirt—one that was three sizes too big and was blue and had one star, smack dab in the middle of his chest (where the arc reactor would eventually go).

In the garden, he would put up handmade cardboard cut outs of enemies, and even have the help hide behind them and move the targets around, so Tony could play his game.

"Freeze, you HYDRA scum! You have met your match!" he would shout, throwing the shield at the cutout. The help, when hit, would crouch down and make sounds like they were dying.

Tony found this very entertaining, and would play until dark, at which time he would go to dinner. His dinner time didn't depend on when his parents ate because they were always very busy and didn't want to bother him. He would eat alone at the long, empty dining table.

His shield would be placed on the table in front of the chair next to him.

At one point, he had acquired reddish-brown gardening gloves, and he had washed these until they were bright red again. He took these off and set them on top of his shield. The sounds of his silverware clanking against his plate echoed through the empty dining hall.

One sunny summer day, he set up an obstacle course for him to run before 'fighting' the enemies. A bucket, an array of rakes and shovels, and few boxes were set in a line so he could jump them in quick succession. He practiced a couple times before getting his shield and putting on his gloves.

He had a running start before jumping the first bucket and onto a box, on which he balanced for a moment before continuing. The rakes were lain down longwise, so he jumped really hard and screwed his eyes shut, exhaling heavily when he landed.

That was a close one.

As he focused on the task of getting through his obstacle, Tony didn't notice his Dad coming up behind him, talking on the phone and walking backwards. Howard was also completely oblivious to Tony, and was shocked when he tripped over the bucket and was sent sprawling to the ground, landing on his back.

"TONY! GODDAMMIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Tony froze, his shoulders tensing up toward his ears as he turned around slowly, his eyes large.

"I-I-" he started, only to be cut off by his father.

"No. Just, go to your room," his Dad said, grabbing his phone from the ground. "And… get rid of that shield. No son of mine is going to waste his time running around playing make believe. I expect better from you."

"But Dad!"

"No. Buts. I don't have time for this. The help doesn't either—they have a job to do. So do you, actually. Now go study or something. As long as you don't make noise. Go. I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. And I don't want to see that shield or that shirt ever again."

Tony was nearly in tears by now. He tried to glare at his father, but his eyes were watering too much to be taken seriously, so he whined loudly and crossed his arms, stomping toward the door.

"And don't even think about trying to hide that thing! I'll find it and I'll burn it!"

Tony screamed a little at that, and started wailing as he ran to his room. He slammed the door and threw his shield against the far wall. His mind was already racing to think of a hiding spot his Dad wouldn't be able to find. Or, more accurately, the servant his Dad would send to search for it. His head hurt from crying so hard, so he flopped on his bed and hid his face in the covers.

After he settled down, he started to think of all the places he could hide.

Under his bed would be an obvious place for anyone to look, and same with in his closet. The top shelf isn't wide—one end of the shield would stick out off the edge any way he put it. His Dad knew about the secret compartment in the floor in his closet. Under his dresser and he'd never be able to get it back out. Behind the headboard would also be an obvious place.

Wait…

His Dad knew about the secret compartment, but his Dad wouldn't be the one looking. The rug by his door could be moved to further conceal the compartment.

Tony jumped off the bed, excited, and pulled the compartment open. He ran over to where he threw his shield, and back, to carefully place it in the hollow.

He went about the entire room, pulling down posters of Captain America, taking action figures off the shelves, grabbing his comic books and newspaper headings and pictures, and placed these, too, into the hollow. He took off his shirt and deposited it, too, before closing it and placing the rug over it.