I was stretched out on a rocky expanse above Gulmira, the midnight-blue sky sparkling with stars above me as I looked over the town. There were no signs of fighting tonight, and I had a good feeling that the terrorists were also getting some well-deserved sleep. At least, well-deserved in their minds.
"What sorts of ammo you think they have, Mina?" I breathed under my visor as I swept my gaze across the town for the umpteenth time. Mina adjusted the zoom as she looked wherever I was pointing the sensors, and I swore I could hear her frown when I drifted over a corner to the left of my hiding spot. "Don't tell me they've got something big over there, I don't want to be limping home…"
"Then you're not going to like what I think I'm picking up over there," Mina informed me coolly. One of the "neat tricks" Mina could do was sense circuitry in certain pieces of equipment, and, based on the kind of data output she read, she could determine what the piece in question was. In this case, it was extremely bad news. "I have at least one Soviet-era tank, and I do believe I'm picking up at least one Jericho missile platform."
The Soviet tank wasn't an issue. The Jerichos were. I swore under my breath as I figured out what this meant: someone within the company was double-dealing and sending these jerkwads the one thing they wanted for Christmas.
"I hope you're thinking what I'm thinking, Mina," I groaned once I processed the fact and started getting to my feet. "And that it means lighting up the sky real bright."
"You read my mind," Mina laughed darkly, and I smirked myself before leaping off the cliff, gliding down silently before Mina kicked in the rockets, and I was cruising a few feet above the ground towards the missile site. The roar was low enough to the ground that anyone awoken by my flight would just think it was a truck or van mowing by, and the lights from my rockets could have been said truck or van going in reverse.
I dropped into a crouch behind a stack of – you guessed it – Stark Industries ammunition as Mina turned off the rockets, and I was gazing up at a set of fresh-off-the-assembly-line Jericho missiles, the tan desert color scheme not even dusty, they were so new. I shook my head a little as I slid closer to the rockets, staying in my crouch before I raised my hands. The repulsors embedded in my palms – primary function being flight stability – whined threateningly before twin beams of gold light shot into the rockets. I heard the explosion coming and cut off the blast, springing into the air before the ground below flashed in the fiery glow of my sabotage. I wheeled back around, and this time I spotted some of those Ten Rings thugs running for the blast zone, yelling at each other in Arabic. Time for some revenge.
I dropped down, right where I'd been not two seconds ago, and when the nearest one opened fire with his machine gun I charged and swung. My fist collided into his shoulder, and I heard a sickening crack before he sailed three feet away and landed on the sand, a whimpering heap. The rest I handled with blasts from my palms. And then I got into some trouble. That tank, the Soviet-era junk-pile that I had stupidly, stupidly underestimated, was shooting these huge rounds from its main cannon. Yeah, not fun. Sadly, it'd even gotten upgraded so no matter how quickly I dodged, it was always by that much! Sometimes, I really hated my life.
It had to have been pure luck that even after it managed to scrape my knee, I'd jumped myself into the air and let loose with the most powerful reactor-based attack: a uni-beam blast. In short, it was a super-large repulsor shot that came directly from the reactor. And it was a relief to watch that golden flare of energy smash into that tank and blow it into hundreds of little tiny pieces. After that fun, it was just a simple matter of clean up. I tied up any still-alive Ten Rings goons – and just guess who I found. It was one of mine and Tony's old friends from the caves, our original "business" partner who asked us to build a Jericho in the first place. It was all too satisfying to hogtie him outside his tent, his black eyes staring up at me in terror.
"Think of it this way," I breathed once I'd finished tying him up. "It's an eye for an eye."
It was only when I was sure I had cleared out the town that I took off, sailing away and dodging the Air Force patrol nearby. Good thinking I installed a signal-dampener, so I could easily remain undetected by radar, and it wasn't until I was safely out of Afghani airspace that I had Mina access my music and run Thunderstruck, AC/DC, as I flew home.
Sadly, it was only when I was about to land on the roof that I realized my mission wasn't entirely a success. The first bad thing that happened was, when I turned my rockets off a few inches from the roof, the surface wasn't strong enough to hold my weight. Cue a giant hole in not just the roof, but also the living room floor. I think I heard Pepper yelp in surprise as I crashed through the grand piano, and I barely, barely avoided landing on one of Tony's cars in the garage. I stayed put for a few moments, regaining my breath before I groaned and got to my feet. The knee I'd originally hurt during the mark one escape was not in good shape anymore, and I was forced to stagger towards the sofa, where Tony had been a few moments before I'd literally crashed his hanging-out time.
"That was fun," I panted sarcastically once I'd gotten my helmet off and was working on extricating the rest of myself from the suit. "I don't think I wanna do it again."
"Good," Tony noted, with equal sarcasm as he helped me out of the suit. I managed to get most of the plates off myself, thanks to a mess of slip-catches I'd designed into the suit so I could get out easily, but winced and bit back a moan as I tried prying my knee free. Y'know, the one that had gotten grazed by that Soviet tank? Well, it wasn't a graze; there was a nice big, bloody hole right above my kneecap. Not pretty. And it didn't help that Pepper's voice soon echoed from the door into the garage.
"Andy? Tony!"
"There's things I've done you'd never catch me doing, Pepper, I swear," I pleaded with an innocent look, even as Tony turned the same wide-eyed expression on her.
"And, let's face it, you've caught me doing worse, so this's nothing."
"Are those bullet holes?"
"Uh, most, I think," I noted as I looked over my armor. "Lessee, bullets, maybe a grenade...and that anti-infantry round from a tank..."
I grimaced as my knee finally squirmed loose, and I heard a clatter of something dropping on a raised surface before the clicking of Pepper's heels retreated back upstairs. I hope she was going for big bandages and old-fashioned hydrogen peroxide. Blood was welling out of my wound, and I futilely dabbed at it with my hand before I shot Tony a look.
"When's the wedding?" I asked tauntingly. "You know I'm maid of honor..."
I would've laughed at the resulting blush if Tony hadn't knelt down nearby and hefted my injured leg into better reach. Yeowch. Much pain.
"Maybe we reinforce that part of the armor," he noted while he started pulling off his shirt, "make sure this doesn't happen again."
I was touched, even when he tied off his shirt around my knee as an impromptu bandage. The pressure made my leg ache, but I didn't notice, because I now had a full view of Tony's chest – and, of course, his arc-reactor. Very gingerly, I fingered my own reactor, biting faintly on my lip.
My fault. These things were my fault. I'd tried to protect him, and failed; he'd ended up being the one keeping me safe while I was comatose when it should've been the other way around. I was still stewing when Pepper returned with sterile white bandages and a big bottle of peroxide, and I barely noticed the stinging once Tony's shirt was off my knee. It was only after Pepper had gotten my knee wrapped up that she decided to get the both of us coffee, and Tony noticed my unconscious fingering of a certain life-ensuring device.
"What?" he asked in concern, gaze jumping to the blue circle in my chest. "Somethin' wrong? Not falling apart?"
"No, no, nothin's wrong," I mumbled, eyes fixed on Tony's chest instead of his eyes. "Just...these are...are my fault. I thought...if I gave myself up, you'd get out...been okay. But..."
I swallowed and glanced away, but Tony crouched next to me and gently put his hand on my cheek. I only had to take one look at him before I saw that protective glance that I'd come to love in that cave. It meant that I really was looking at my brother, who'd do anything to keep me from getting hurt.
"Don't beat yourself up over it," he soothed quietly. "It's not your fault. It would've happened if you were there or not. I knew that model and ran the numbers right there. Blast radius's so big, you couldn't have stopped it."
"Should've tried harder," I choked out, reaching up to grab Tony's hand tightly.
"And where'd you be? Dead? Nuh uh. That would've been worse."
"Selfish jerk," I laughed weakly, even as I pulled him into a hug. Thing is, I didn't really mean that. He's my brother; he was supposed to be a selfish jerk when it came to me. I knew I was gonna hate him for protecting me, but he'd do it anyway. That'd never change; nothing was going to change ever again. I felt him nestle his chin against my shoulder, and I softly murmured into his ear, "I love you, Tony. Always will."
He squeezed me gently, cheek resting on my shoulder joint. I could feel his smile.
"Love you, too, Andy."
