A/N: Chapter two, an introduction for Tony to the hateful world outside Dr. Yinsen's apartment. It starts picking up after this, but it's still a bit until we hit the actual pickpocket bit with Vaguely Fatherly Loki making an appearance. Never fear, though. He'll arrive. Eventually.
Please allow for the suspension of disbelief on electromagnets/arc reactors. I can't science.
No beta so all errors are mine. Feel free to volunteer, it won't hurt my feelings. Thanks for reading!
When Tony's feet hit the pavement after dropping from the fire escape, he started running.
He hadn't been outside the apartment more than a handful of times, and he had no idea where he was or where he was going, only that he could not stop.
He ran until his chest ached and his lungs burned and he could be dying but Yinsen was dead and what if they found him?
It was dark by the time he stumbled into an even darker alleyway (which didn't make sense, but it did) and collapsed in a heap on a pile of cardboard boxes. His electromagnet was buzzing loudly from the extra strain he'd put on his body, and it was all he could do just to pull out his toolkit and fumble in the dark for the right screwdriver. Was this what a heart attack felt like?
His chest was burning, tendrils of pain snaking their way through his shoulders and stomach and down his back, and he had to bite down hard on the handle of another screwdriver to keep from screaming.
Yanking up his hoodie and t-shirt, Tony popped the 'blackout' casing so that he could work with it, a bright blue-white glow lighting up his little corner of the alleyway. Levering the screwdriver in, Tony worked only by feel until he could adjust the output, twisting it three turns to the left. The buzzing faded and he could breathe easier, his chest no longer on fire.
Whimpering, Tony put the blackout casing back on, and put away his tools, breathing heavily through his nose in an attempt to meditate like Dr. Y-...someone had taught him. He purposely did not think about his apartment, or gunshots, or the smell of twisted metal and gasoline.
Instead, he took stock of what he did have, which was absolutely nothing.
He had no money, no food, no extra clothes. Just his toolkit, his favorite hoodie, and the clothes on his back.
His mind settled a bit as he continued breathing, and he was able to think a little more clearly. Something ached in his chest, and he decided to say it was the electromagnet, even though he knew very well that wasn't it.
He had nothing. Except his brain. Which was actually a pretty big something. He was a genius, right? There was no reason why he couldn't make it work.
With that thought in mind, Tony slipped his toolkit under his shirt and into the waistband of his jeans. Snuggling down in his hoodie, he shifted until he'd found something resembling comfort on top of the cardboard. Praying that the morning would not find him dead or maimed, Tony drifted into an uneasy sleep.
The next morning, Tony awoke with a start, a scream still trapped in the back of his throat.
The city had come alive and the sounds of car horns and the chatter of people filled the air. Even outside his chosen alleyway, plenty of people walked by without noticing him, chatting away on their cellphones or too deeply absorbed in their coffee to pay any mind to the undersized eleven year old huddled on a pile of cardboard.
He figured if he had screamed, they wouldn't even notice.
Getting to his feet, Tony cataloged an entire array of aches and pains in his muscles and joints. Feet throbbing all the way to his toes, he shuffled out of the alleyway, raising a hand against the glaring sunlight that had managed to break its way through the layers of smog.
As the gears in his mind started clicking into place, Tony decided that the first order of business would be to find some place to stay. He would establish a base of operations, and from there, he would forage for food, and find a way to make money. He could do this.
"Stupid, stupid Tony," Tony snarled as he wiped at his nose, where water continually dripped onto his head from an overhead pipe.
He'd been turfed out of half a dozen potential hideouts by overzealous teenagers and street rats. Turns out that being a genius didn't mean jack shit when you were on the streets. It just meant they had something to thump you for.
Tony was smart enough to realize that he was getting a 'reality check'. It wasn't enough that he was an orphan, with an electromagnet in his chest, but he was also severely out of his depth when it came to coping with the real world.
Yinsen had sheltered him; kept him safe and sound from the real world and those who would hurt him for being Tony Stark. But it hadn't been enough, and now Tony was alone.
He could tell that there was potential on the streets. The potential to survive, based on the sheer number of homeless kids crawling around alleyways and parks. Kids were crawling out of the woodwork, and there had to be somewhere that would take him in. He just had to keep looking.