We arrived in Afghanistan eventually. I managed to get into the pencil skirt, stilettos, and blouse I'd borrowed from Pepper, and Tony looked shocked at my transformation. I quirked my brows at him as I slipped on my shades to block out the painful desert sun, and we headed down the stairs to be greeted by big-time generals. To make a long story short, we got shipped out to a place far from the base, Tony showed off his missiles to a very grateful military crowd. I heard Tony talking to Obadiah Stane on his cell phone, and I had to bite down an inner snarl as I got into one of the humvees and dug out my personal ACDC mix to plug into the CD player in there before Tony got in. I tuned out an altercation between him and Rhodes, and soon, we were on our way back to base.
I was nodding along to "Back in Black" when Tony suddenly called for questions from our friends in the jeep with us. The guy in front asked one of the dirtiest questions imaginable: "Did you really go twelve for twelve with last year's Maxim cover models?"
The Tony I remembered would have paled at the very thought of simply going one for twelve with any Maxim cover model. The Tony sitting with me gave an answer that made me sick to my stomach, so I fixed my gaze to the passing landscape. Again I got struck with wondering who the jerk who replaced my brother was.
Quite unexpectedly, though, the youngest soldier, who was sitting in the back with me and Tony, gently nudged me in the middle. I glanced at his name badge: Moreau. Another glance at the shoulder revealed he was a mere second lieutenant.
"Like livin' with your brother?" he asked, and I managed a grin at that before shrugging.
"Food's not too bad, nice décor and excellent service. But living with that jerk?" I thumbed at him, and I sensed a playfully-hurt gaze aimed at the base of my neck as I continued, "I keep to my room as much as possible!"
"But I'd figure he'd be extra-nice, I mean, you bein' his sister and all..."
"I get to roam the house and his garage. That's pretty good for not seeing him for about....six, seven years or so...."
"Ah," Moreau said thoughtfully. "Still on the awkward side, huh?" I managed a smile. He might've been a kid, military-wise, but he had good instincts. Not to mention he had a cute smirk, despite the helmet and combat fatigues.
"Okay, next time you're in the States and anywhere around Los Angeles, you're getting dinner, on me," I offered, and Moreau's face lit up. I returned the grin as I added, "I'll even clean up real nice for ya."
"My sister?!" Tony's voice echoed behind me weakly, and I turned around to glare at him a little.
"If you're allowed, so am I!" I snarked at him, and Tony scowled at me faintly, before Moreau elected to keep the peace by asking us to be in a picture with him. We were working on getting arranged on either side of Moreau – me and him throwing up peace signs, Tony looking outright bored – before an explosion rocked the ground in front of us.
We ended up stopping, and everything moved in a whirlwind around us. Our driver and the other soldier sprang out but were shot down on the instant. Moreau had to climb over me so as to jump out himself. I could hear the gunfire as he ran out, and I flinched when I heard a bang and saw Moreau's foggy silhouette drop to the ground.
My first date had just gotten killed. My luck must be really, really shitty today. And it got worse when Tony thought it would be smart to jump out of the humvee.
"Oh, for God's sake," I snarled, kicking my door open and prying off the heels I was in before starting to bound off along the hot sand. I glanced around, dodging the sounds of bullets zipping past before I spotted Tony, running parallel to me. I scrabbled to meet up with him, the soles of my feet burning.
"Tony!" I screamed as I saw him duck down against a rock and I found my own boulder to hide behind. "This is your fault!'
"No, it isn't!" he barked back, and I noticed he had a gun in his hands. Apparently, it was useless. That or Tony was useless firing it.
We stayed put for a little bit before bullets started winging towards us, and I grabbed Tony's arm and dragged him after me while we ran to another safe spot.
"Let's find cover! Hurry!" I yelped, leaping as the sand got even hotter under my feet. There was a brief explosion that forced us against a gray rock, and I glanced around, wondering when the fighting was going to stop before I heard the rapid-fire beeping of Tony's cell phone. I nearly bit off with a sarcastic remark before I heard something thud into the ground next to us.
The next ten seconds felt like ten hours. I looked over and saw the rocket, reading the Stark Industries logo emblazoned on it. I recognized the model: a late-detonation type, one that fired charged metal shards into the nearest living object for three meters in radius. The charge would drive the pieces towards the nearest source of energy, usually the unlucky sap's heart. I saw Tony stagger back, trying to turn and run. I flung myself in front of him, eyes widening as I heard the tone that meant an imminent explosion.
The rocket blew practically right in front of my face. Searing pain tore through my chest, and I thought I heard myself scream as I hit the ground, unable to breathe, the world going hazy-white before I blacked out.
I think I fazed in and out a couple times. Each time I was awake, it was only for a few seconds, and I was in a vast world of pain. I remember I was screaming, remember voices barking over me. I swore I heard Tony's voice call my name once or twice. But the rest of the time, I had no idea what was going on.
At least it was better than being dead, right?
When I felt myself start waking up, I was already wondering if I was in the afterlife, and why in the world someone who had just died and gone to heaven needed a breathing tube up their nose. Oh. Right. That meant I was alive. Duh. But the feeling of air getting pumped into my lungs via a tube that was up my nose and down my throat was not the best sensation in the world, so I reached up and yanked the thing out, choking for two seconds as it slid up my windpipe before the end finally came out my nose. I had to sneeze and cough after I'd tossed the tube aside.
I carefully started sitting up, my chest aching like a whole stampede had gone over it, not to mention my sternum felt heavier than usual. I paused when I started getting dizzy, and a groan managed to escape my lips as I cranked myself upright. I thought I heard something drag against a table behind me, felt a yanking sensation from my chest. I didn't want to think about what those terrorists – had to be, right? – had dug into me. Instead of looking at my chest, I forced myself to raise my head and open my eyes.
The cave was dark, its lighting barely adequate in the form of a fire crackling a few feet away. I rubbed at my nose before I noticed a figure shuffling towards me from a small table that was near the farther side of the cave. I blinked when I saw Tony, messy, dirty, and wires trailing out of his chest to a car battery that was in a burlap sling over his shoulder. I think a pit dropped into my stomach.
He settled in next to me, dropping the heavy battery before gently reaching around my shoulders. I tucked myself in tight next to him, suddenly afraid. I tried not to voice it as I asked, "Tony, what the hell happened? I remember….an explosion, but then…blank."
"Don't worry about it, sis," he shushed me, reaching for a tin cup on a small table on his other side. I think he was trying to keep me from freaking out; nice of ya, Tony, but not the best thing for me right now. "You're okay. Here, let's get some water into you…."
I nodded, but still fixed a glare at him as he passed me the cup. Once I'd drained it, I slowly peeked a glance down my bandages. Not like I could see much, except for bruised skin, dried blood…and a large black thing between my collarbone and my breasts. And this thing was where the wires were connected. God above. I swallowed as my fear started bubbling into a mild panic.
"What…what happened? What've they done to us?!" I asked, trying to keep from breaking into hysterics. But I managed to recover as I snidely added, "And don't lie to me, you moron, I'm a realist and you know it."
Tony sighed, rubbing his face a little as he seemed to be formulating a response that didn't hide the truth from me. Not like I probably couldn't figure it out, myself, as my last few seconds of complete memory came ticking back. Also there was the fact that my big brother looked dead on his feet; I guess I'd been bad off from the explosion.
You wanted to die, though, a wicked voice hissed in my head. You'd rather be dead now, and him alive. No one else but him cares about you, anyway.
"The…the missile," he began haltingly, voice shaking. "You…you ended up getting the worst of it. I did what I could, but…."
He got up, hefting his battery before heading for another table, covered with pieces of paper, remains of pencils and charcoal sticks, while I very carefully tugged the white gauze bandage off the black...thing and poked at it gently, not going near the wires. Ick. Not cool.
I took a deep breath as I watched him for a little while, listening to the scratch-scratch-scratch of the pencil on paper before I had the guts to ask the big questions.
"Tony…how long? And…and what about you? Are you okay? How do we get out of here?"
He sighed, getting up to shuffle back over to me and sit, gently putting an arm over my shoulders. Somehow – maybe it was because of facing certain death and barely making it out, on the both of us – he was acting less like a jerk and more like a brother. I think I liked it, or at least right now I liked it.
"Don't know," he sighed eventually. "However long…the batteries hold, I guess. Maybe…a week? Two?"
"Important week for us, then," I slid in. Tony nodded in agreement, rubbing my shoulder a little.
"And as for getting out of here…well."
He just gave me that look that said 'don't worry, I have everything under control' (it's especially common when things really aren't under control) and gently tapped his temple. I didn't fight down a groan at the sight of that look.
"You know I hate it when you look at me like that," I sighed, shaking my head a little. Slowly, I turned, reaching back to grab the heavy, black car battery that, apparently, was powering some kind of object now residing in my chest. Probably an electromagnet, considering the rocket. At least I remembered that much.
The first of the more morbid thoughts came as Tony got up to get back to sketching, leaving me to cradle that battery in my lap. A week, at best. One whole week to live. What was I going to do? What would I say in my last days with Tony? Did I tell him what Stane had done to me, so long ago? Tell him what I really thought about his antics in the years after Dad's death? How did I even start that conversation?
I almost did. I opened my trap and gently started saying his name, but I stopped. No. I couldn't tell him. Didn't want to. I didn't want the worse part of all of my potential outcomes envisioned in the event I did tell him to come out.
"They'll probably be back in a little while," Tony said eventually, face cool and voice serious for the first time in a long time. "I've got an idea of what they want, but you know they're not gettin' it."
"Your guess is as good as mine," I sighed, getting up and brushing away those awfully morbid and depressing thoughts. I made sure to tote my battery with me as I peered over his shoulder, watching him sketch. Of course, he being an engineering major and me being a computer geek, I barely understood what he was drawing at all.
"Are you sharing or am I out of the loop as usual?"
Tony barely mumbled some affirmative in reply. Translation: out of the loop. I scowled a little before shuffling back to my cot, getting ready to probably grab some more sleep…and then the door got pounded on. I jolted upright at the sound of voices. I managed to recognize the Arabic getting yelled at us, and I reluctantly straightened while Tony dropped his pencil.
"I think we're about to meet our hosts," I commented snidely.
"Figures," Tony sighed in agreement, getting to his feet and resting the battery against his side. "And I just bet they love the whole submission thing, so…"
He raised his hands, clasping his fingers behind his head. I stayed seated, but did the same thing as the metal doors crashed open, revealing armed guards, and a fat, bearded Arab man who looked more like a business mogul trying to play the part than a real live terrorist mastermind. I almost doubt he even was the mastermind.
The terrorist strode forward, a curled photograph in one hand, and he gave us both a warm smile as he spread his arms wide in welcome. Although he spoke in Arabic, I kept up – thanks to four years of Arabic at MIT, plus that Rosetta Stone program in the past two years – and quietly translated for Tony's sake.
"Welcome, Tony Stark," he greeted us, "the most famous mass murderer in the history of America. For us, we would like you and your assistant to build us something." That got me to bristle inside; well, at least they'd mistaken me for Pepper instead of who I really was. Of course he continued, proffering the photo.
"We would ask you to build a missile. A Jericho missile."
I got to my feet, taking the photo in my free hand and gingerly unrolling it for me and Tony to inspect. Yeah, it was the exact same missile system Tony had shown off before our convoy back to the air base had gotten blown up. I swallowed a little, glancing at Tony, who didn't meet my gaze.
"Tell him I want to see what I'd be working with."
That got me to start angrily, grabbing his arm and twisting away from the terrorist jerk for a moment before hissing, "What the hell d'ya think you're doing?! They'll. Kill. Us. Anyway. Me, I'd rather go down fighting!"
I didn't want to see this. I didn't want to feel betrayed. But Tony finally looked at me, and I saw the firm resolve there. I think my heart snapped right about then.
"Tell them," he insisted. "Am I going to have to say please? Pretty please?"
I growled faintly before whirling back, managing to compose myself as I relayed Tony's request. Of course, the leader of this merry band waved forward two cronies. Next thing I knew, I had a burlap sack over my head and I was getting shoved forward with more Arabic being shouted into my ears. But I wasn't entirely senseless. I made sure to count steps and note turns. In the event of an escape. One never knew.
Our forced march ended maybe five minutes later, and the sack was torn away from my head to burn my eyes with hot sunshine. I had a momentary whiteout before my eyes adjusted, and when they did…I almost half-wished they hadn't.
The camp we had emerged into was huge, at least a hundred square yards, covered with camo netting. What it covered was almost the entire catalog of Stark weaponry. I felt another bristle rise to match the second rip through my chest. Metaphorically speaking.
Tony's guns. These bastards were carrying and using Tony's guns. I got shoved close to Tony as we were pushed down a rock and dust ramp, into the camp proper. It allowed me to shoot off a venomous little quip.
"Tony, they're holding your guns, you hypocrite."
I think he would've replied if our host hadn't stopped, waving around and jabbering again. I sighed as I just decided to interpret instead of directly translate.
"He wants to know what you think. Make no-never-mind about what I think…"
Tony gave me a long look, something meaningful-like. I scowled at that look. Great. He didn't want his kid sister to screw up a secret transaction. Fine, you two-faced, no-good….
"Tell him I'm…surprised, I think the best word is," he replied. I didn't exactly relate it like that, but it got the terrorist to beam at Tony before speaking again. Pretty much it was a breakdown of what he wanted: one Jericho, pretty please, and, oh yes…
"When we've got it, he'll let us go," I finished with a snort. Oh, sure. Catch the world's top weapons designer and just let him go after one missile. "Yeah, sure you will, fatso…"
"You're right," Tony agreed as he offered his hand to the terrorist to shake on the agreement. "He won't."
Somehow, that felt like the third strike of the day.
