"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night…" I sneered. Honestly, did he think he'd never find out what truly happened to his parents? All Tony knew was that they had died in a car crash. He didn't know they were assassinated.
Or that I pulled the trigger.
"What do you mean?" He said, his voice quavering. "You know something, don't you?"
"I'm warning you, don't ask about it! You won't like the answers."
"Tell me. I can handle it. My parents did not deserve to die. The least I can do is avenge them." his fists curled, ready to go into a fighting stance. "I don't think you could beat me in a fight, even with the suit."
"I'm not afraid to hit an old woman…"
"You will be when you find out what this 'old woman' has done."
I paused, then took a breath. "You truly won't like the answers I'm about to give you. I'm about to change your life."
"Then, by all means, go ahead."
"I remember that night, I just might regret that night for the rest of my days… December 16, 1991. I was trying to earn the favour of my superiors, trying to win their praise. 'Take down the winter soldier', they said. 'It'll be easy' they said. I'll never forget the asset's face when I told him I was assigned to that mission. He was leading, I was backup, and he thought he didn't need me."
"You were there? You saw my parents?"
"Jarvis too. I watched as that car swerved out of control, how the asset shot the windows out. Your butler was hit first, struck in the chest, bled out within minutes. Your father, he died asking me to save your mother. The asset, for some reason, couldn't deliver the killing blow to your mother. I shoved him out of the way and shot Maria Stark."
"You?"
"Yeah. It was me. I killed your mum."
The suit's faceplate slid down, and I barely caught the first blow. "Don't do this."
"What choice do I have? You killed my mom."
We were almost evenly matched- each dodging and twisting and throwing punches. I was a bit out of practice, and once Stark got a grip around my throat, I knew I was done. But, for some reason, he only crushed my vocal cords, instead of my trachea. I wouldn't be able to speak again, much less at my 'trial'. "I'm only sparing your life because I don't need your blood on my conscience."
My throat was in terrible condition, it hurt to breathe. I struggled to free my hands, and, using ASL, I signed, "I hope you're satisfied."