At that moment, Megan's stomach rumbled as if to say, 'You can't start this on an empty stomach!'
Her cheeks tinged pink, she muttered to herself, "Right. Food. Still human." She turned to head upstairs to the kitchen and froze at the sight of Rhodes and Natasha. She had clearly forgotten they were even there.
Natasha laughed, quite possibly the only time Rhodes and Megan had ever seen her summon up more than a smirk. "Yes, you're still human, Stark." She picked herself up from where she had been leaning against the wall and exited the workshop, calling back over her shoulder, "You can work on becoming invincible later."
Invincible
By: Eva Grimm
Chapter Three: Eyes of Iron
"When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
and nodding by the fire, take down this book,
and slowly read, and dream of the soft look
your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep."
William Butler Yeats
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Iron Man, Tony Stark, or any other Marvel intellectual property. Invincible is a fan-based work and not sold for profit.
***SPOILER ALERT: Spoilers for any Marvel movie and comic book — they're going to happen. You've been warned.
Monday, December 8th, 2003 11:03p, PST | Stark Industries, CA
Obadiah barely restrained his glee as he surveyed the armor his men had recovered from The Ten Rings. The team he'd sent to Afghanistan had just returned from the airport and was unloading the precious cargo they had smuggled into the U.S.
The captain of the team noticed Obadiah and walked over to him. "This is all of the remnants, sir."
"Take everything and set up in Sector 16 underneath the arc reactor. Analyze, recreate, and improve it. Recruit our top engineers. I want a prototype right away."
Friday, December 12th, 2003 03:13p, PST | 10880 Malibu Point, 90265
"Okay, Jarvis. Activate hand controls. We're gonna start up nice and easy: 10% thrust capacity to achieve lift.
After Natasha had left the day before, Megan had hurriedly gulped down some food (So much better than the shit the Ten Rings gave me...) and gotten started on the Mark II. She hadn't gotten much done, however, before she finally collapsed into sleep. She had hardly slept the night before then, in light of her haste to synthesize the element her father had theorized about and her recent abduction. Her new heart had definitely left her with more energy, but her natural body had won out in the end. That morning, she had awoken in her bed rather than the workshop, where she had fainted while piecing together the repulsor tech she would use for the suit's flight and main weapons. She suspected Rhodes had carried her upstairs, but she couldn't honestly remember if he stayed after Natasha left. Megan hadn't meant for Natasha — or Rhodey, for that matter — to see the Mark II design. She didn't trust the spy, and while she trusted Rhodes, he had asked her to give him time before dragging him into her schemes. Still, Rhodes could have left if he wanted, so really, it was his decision.
"You can work on becoming invincible later."
Okay, Natasha was good for motivation, at least.
"My first steps, figuratively speaking, towards invincibility, Jarvis. This is one for the scrapbook! Going in 3... 2... 1..."
The repulsor fiercely blasted her up and backwards into the ceiling above her nearby Audi R8 — which she promptly crashed into when gravity took over. "Ow."
"I've saved the video file in your scrapbook for 2003, ma'am."
"Fuck you, Jarvis."
Monday, December 15th, 2003 07:42p, PST | 10880 Malibu Point, 90265
"Megan, I've been buzzing you," Pepper called out as she descended the stairs into the madness of Megan's workshop. "Didn't you hear the intercom?"
She answered her own question when she reached the bottom and saw that Megan had a wireless headset over her ears as she she worked on a circular device the size of her palm that Pepper couldn't identify. You'd think she would program the intercom to override the music, Pepper thought to herself as she punched in the door code. Then again, maybe the point is to not hear the intercom.
Pepper resigned herself to physically getting the black-haired genius' attention, but as she approached, Megan finally finished whatever she'd been doing and stood up while attaching it and another like it to her wrists. As she turned to the side to give herself room to place two more on each of her feet, she saw Pepper.
"Oh hey, Pep. Everything's fine. Nothing amiss." A brief pause. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
"Guilty conscious, Meg?"
"No, habit. I'm usually in trouble when you come down here."
Pepper rolled her eyes then turned her focus to the devices on Megan's extremities. "I thought you said you were done making weapons."
"Weapons? Nah. They're just flight stabilizers — completely harmless." She took a step towards the area she'd set aside for flight testing and promptly flipped into the air, as the repulsors on her feet flared to life for a brief moment, and landed in a tangled heap on the floor.
"I didn't expect that."
Pepper smothered a giggle with her hand. When she had herself contained, she mentioned, "Obadiah is upstairs waiting for you."
Megan miraculously extracted herself from the floor and slid the repulsors off. "Let's head up then."
The two of them made their way upstairs and found Obadiah playing music on her grand piano.
Megan's eyes became glassy as her ears put a name to it. "Antonio Salieri's Piano Concerto in C: Larghetto."
Obadiah ceased playing as he observed, "Sharp ears, Megan. It's too bad you didn't put some of your sharpness to use before you made your big speech."
Megan frowned. "Obie? I know I sprang all of that on you, and I'm sorry for that. We were supposed to be defending our country, not killing it. We have to stop blindly making weapons when they're ending up in the bad guys' hands."
"Stop making weapons?" Obadiah laughed darkly. "Megan, we are iron mongers. Making weapons is what we do."
He stood up from the piano bench and began to stride towards the women. "I knew that leaving you as CEO position was the wrong decision, but Howard would hear nothing of it. I had to settle for harvesting your golden eggs while I bided my time. And now, I don't have to pretend anymore."
As he reached Megan, he held out some paperwork. Megan snatched it from his grasp, and her eyes hastily analyzed it. The board of directors for Stark Industries had elected for him to depose her as head of the company. Megan growled in anger and Pepper could only watch in shock.
Megan brandished the papers at him like a sword, waving them threateningly. "What the fuck, Obie! I trusted you!"
"How? Why?" Pepper stuttered out.
Obadiah's directed a savage smile at Megan. "Even if you hadn't given up on making weapons, you were out. The board wasn't about to let our company's good name be tarnished by a shemale."
Slap!
Obadiah stumbled backwards under the force of Megan's livid backhand. A red, hand-shaped mark covered the left side of his face.
"Get the fuck out of my house before I make you leave."
Obadiah briefly contemplated retaliating but ultimately decided that his seizure of the company was sufficient revenge. He left without a word, a dark smirk upon his face, leaving the two women.
They stood there for a time, both frozen in place and unsure of what to do.
"I had to settle for harvesting your golden eggs while I bided my time."
Megan's dropped the paper file, her hand suddenly weak. Did he try to have me killed in Afghanistan? she wondered. It was just speculation, certain facts lining up, but it was too coincidental for comfort. He argued with Dad about making me CEO, 'bided his time,' insisted that I do the Jericho demonstration... She needed to know. She had to get proof. The source that most likely had it would be difficult to reach — his laptop. Other possibilities existed, but none were as likely, and she seriously doubted that he would have multiple copies of any proof of wrongdoing.
But how to get it, she pondered. Rhodey would be out of place, and if Pepper or I go, then he'll know something is up.
Her eyes widened. She knew some people who were very good at getting information they shouldn't.
"Pepper." Megan hadn't spoken loudly, but in the silence following Obadiah's departure, her voice sounded deafening. "I have work to do. Please go home."
Monday, December 15th, 2003 10:44p, PST | Stark Industries, CA
Obadiah gazed over the metal monstrosity before him, savoring the view. He had just returned from Stark's house and was feeling victorious. His team of engineers had nearly completed the task he had set them to a week ago: a prototype power suit of his own. It was tremendous, towering over the reassembled pieces his men had recovered from the Afghan desert.
With this, I will revolutionize the arms market! He chuckled darkly to himself as he envisioned the look on Stark's face when he saw. That freak of nature could never appreciate this marvel.
"Mr. Stane?" One of the engineers from the project approached him cautiously. "Sir, we've explored what you've asked us, and it seems that there's a little... hiccup."
Obadiah fixed the engineer with a smoldering stare. "A hiccup?"
The engineer cringed but continued. "Yes, to power the suit... Sir, the technology actually doesn't exist. So it's —"
Obadiah's eyes took on a maniacal gleam. "Wait, wait — the technology?" He gestured wildly at the arc reactor above them. "Here's the technology. I've asked you to simply make it smaller."
Sweat began to accumulate on the engineer's forehead. He nervously swallowed and responded, "Yes, sir, that's what we're trying to do, but honestly, it's impossible."
Obadiah erupted, losing all sense of control. "That shemale was able to build this in a cave! With a box of scraps!" He'd seen it in Stark's chest with his own eyes, and The Ten Rings' description of Stark's escape had made it clear the suit was powered by it.
The entire team stopped what they were doing and stared at their boss, caught off guard by his anger and crudeness. Even those among them who didn't like Stark were astounded at the obvious pettiness.
The engineer who had been the target of Obadiah's ire didn't know what else to say than, "Well, I'm sorry. I'm not Megan Stark."
Monday, December 15th, 2003 08:21p, PST | 10880 Malibu Point, 90265
Pepper had been reluctant to leave, but Megan eventually shuffled her out and called Phil, her only direct contact in S.H.I.E.L.D.
He answered nearly instantaneously. "This is Coulson."
"Phil, it's Megan. I need to ask you for a favor."
"What can I do for you?"
"I need to... access sensitive information on a private PC. Sound fun?"
Phil didn't miss a beat. "Fun is my middle name."
In spite of her anger over Obadiah's treachery, Megan giggled at his joke. She wished she had been there to see him say it. "Just like that? You're too sweet, Phil honey." Now this game I like. Phil's a lot more fun than Natasha.
"Well, I'd hate to disappoint. Obadiah, right?"
How the fuck? "I love it when you're being mysterious."
"I'm glad to hear he loves his new watch. I was relieved I could find one that looked just like the old one."
Right, begin surreptitiously checking everything for bugs ASAP. "You're the best, Philly. Toodles."
"Have fun tailoring your suit."
She hung up. Tailoring? Really? Maybe he should say his middle name is 'pun.'
She began the descent into her basement. I'm finishing the suit tonight.
Megan hovered wobbly through the air of her workshop, suspended by her repulsors. It turned out that her repulsors had been perfectly designed from the start; the trick had all been in not overdoing the thrust.
Hell yeah. I can fly! she thought to herself, as she steered away from her antique cars, not wanting to damage them like her Audi.
"Jarvis, what's the status on the automated assembly line? Is the rest of the suit ready?" The repulsors had been the part of the suit that she had needed to attend to personally. The Mark I had worked well enough in Afghanistan for her to get a proper idea of what needed to be tweaked. Her time flying, however, had been too short to get enough data about functionality.
"It is. At the risk of being ignored, may I suggest that you perform more tests before test driving the completed Mark II?"
"Consider yourself ignored. Let's suit up."
The door to a room adjacent to the workshop opened up, revealing the newly constructed, silver-plated Mark II secured to a portable dock that made its way into the main workshop. Megan removed the repulsors strapped to her extremities and secured them into the silver machine. Without further ado, she stepped into it.
"Engage heads up display and import all preferences from home interface."
"Will do, ma'am."
The inside of her faceplate burst into life, indicating the suit's status, her life support levels, Jarvis' upload into the suit, and so on.
Once the screen indicated the transfer was complete, she asked, "Are you in here, buddy?"
"I have indeed been uploaded, ma'am. We're online and ready."
"Then let's fly."
"Ma'am, regarding your insistence on skipping the diagnostics and data calculations..."
"Jarvis — sometimes you gotta run before you can walk. Ready? In 3... 2... 1..."
She burst into movement, flying out of the basement workshop through the spiral entrance she used for her cars. Once she reached the world outside, she increased velocity and burned through the skies like a man-made meteorite.
"It feels like a dream..."
It was liberating. It was empowering. It was everything she'd dreamed of. As she cruised through the skies, testing the suit's handling, the people who had helped her reach where she was brushed through her thoughts. She thought of the good she could do, and the people she needed to protect.
"One day, you'll figure it out, and you will change the world. You'll make it a better place."
This was the first step. With the suit, she could defend her nation and the people she cared about in it. And eventually, she would change people's perception of trans people like her. She would show the world that the only person they had to be was themselves. No compromises and no exceptions.
She twisted in the air, steering the suit up into the atmosphere. Tonight, she was invincible.
"Ma'am, there is a potentially fatal build-up of ice occurring."
Well, maybe not tonight.
I might not be able to account for every weakness, but I'll be damned if I can't fix them. I can make myself invincible.
Tuesday, December 16th, 2003 12:08p, PST | 10880 Malibu Point, 90265
"This is Coulson."
"Phil, honey, how goes the hunt?"
"It's awfully loud over there. What's all of that noise?"
"Don't change the subject on little ol' me now."
"Your timing is good. I just made it to your house to review what I found."
"It's a date. Ciao, darling."
Phil hung up his phone, wondering why Megan had sounded like she was going through a wind tunnel. He strode up to her door and considered overriding her security but decided against it. She hadn't given the impression that she'd be long, so civility won out.
As he turned around to lean against the door, a blur slammed into the ground before him. In a flash, his training took over, and he whipped his gun out before him.
The blur had been Megan, encased in a red and gold variation on the Mark II. Her faceplate flipped up and back, revealing her face and the lopsided grin that graced it. "It's rude to point guns at people, Philly."
Phil had to admit, he was impressed. He had known she had it in her to build a new power suit like the one she used to escape her captors, but he hadn't expected her to complete it in so little time. She had only been home for a little over a week, yet she had already made good on her threat. He would be seriously surprised if Director Fury didn't bring her in as a part of the Avenger initiative; at the very least, he would want access to her brilliant mind in some way.
He holstered his gun and gave her a dry smile. "I'd ask you to exchange notes with me, but it's pretty clear what you've been up to. Let's head inside — living room?"
"It's a date." She winked. "Jarvis, we've got a guest who didn't break in. Show him some hospitality while I store the suit?"
"Of course, ma'am."
Megan gave Phil a mock salute, and pushed off into a hovering position as her faceplate snapped into position, its blue eye slits alight. She blasted up into the sky where she twisted backwards in a loop, eventually swooping down to a position level with the ground and propelling forward into the helix entrance down into her workshop.
The corner of Phil's mouth twitched slightly upward. "Show off."
He turned on his heel and strode towards the front door, which opened itself for him.
"Good afternoon, Philly," Jarvis' cool voice intoned as Phil stepped into the residence.
Phil groaned. Of course, she programmed her AI to do it too.
Megan came up shortly after, clad in the same gear monkey attire she'd worn when she created the design for the Mark II, though she'd left her goggles in the workshop. She had thoroughly enjoyed testing her new Mark III armor, which had been made using a gold-titanium alloy as the base metal in order to avoid another ice debacle but still maintain the appropriate power-to-weight ratio. Phil was seated in the living room in one of her white arm chairs, reading over something on a tablet computer in his hands. Megan briefly wondered whether it was one of the crummy models that populated the small market for them, but she figured that S.H.I.E.L.D., being some sort of spy agency, would only use tech that was legitimately good.
Only the best for the Strategic Home— God, they really need a better name.
She turned her attention back to Phil. The game is afoot. "Aw, Philly, an arm chair? It's so much easier to tease you on a couch."
Phil deadpanned. "I know, Miss Stark."
She gave a mock pout as she plopped into the recliner next to him, crossing her legs so her top leg brushed up against his left leg. "Dazzle me, honey."
Phil procured photos from inside his suit jacket and passed them to her. Megan glanced over them: They were pictures of a desert town and featured distraught women, men, and children held captive by men with Stark Industries weapons.
"We successfully extracted the data stored on Obadiah Stane's PC. We found shipping manifests that indicate Stark Industries has been selling to the U.S. and terrorists alike."
Megan was seething. It was one thing to suspect Obadiah of backdoor dealing with the enemy and another matter to have proof of it. "Where is this? Who are the armed men?"
"Gulmira, Afghanistan and The Ten Rings. The last remaining members of them, it appears; an entire base near where you were held captive was filled with corpses. Director Fury has already given you the go-ahead for a rescue mission and for you to take part, provided the suit was ready."
"I'm from a small town called Gulmira."
Megan locked eyes with Phil, Yinsen's sacrifice forefront in her mind. "'The go-ahead'? I'm going there to stop this madness, regardless of what your boss thinks."
"Of course," Phil coolly retorted.
Megan made to get up, but Phil cut her off, saying, "Before you go, there's more intel. We found a video from The Ten Rings to Stane on his computer. It clearly indicates that Stane paid them to assault your caravan in Afghanistan."
Megan searched his eyes for a moment and, seeing no sign of deception, replied, "Your secret club can help with Gulmira, but that prick is mine."
"I'm sure we can sort out the details."
Megan stood, her eyes still on Phil. "Thank you for your help, Phil."
"My pleasure, Megan."
Megan smiled at his use of her given name. It was the first time he'd done so, and she knew that meant something. For him, this was business, but it was also personal.
Wednesday, December 17th, 2003 09:02a, AFT | The skies over Gulmira, Afghanistan
The gray VTOL swiftly blazed through the skies of Afghanistan as Phil stood in the short passage between the pilots' seats and the rear of the vehicle, briefing their team of four operatives prepared for insertion into Gulmira.
"This is a straightforward hostage rescue. The area is too open for parachute-entry, so we'll go in low. We'll be grounded for three seconds, more than enough for you to get out. The drop zone will be kept clear with cover fire both while grounded and once airborne. You will be supported by an armored unit, codename Iron, on the ground. There will be crates of Stark Industries weapons stashed intermittently throughout the village; Iron will be evaporating them, so stay clear of them."
He raised his finger to his earpiece. "Did you get all of that, Iron?"
The team's earpieces came alive with Megan's indignant voice, "You're ridiculous. Can you really not make it all the way through the moniker 'Iron Woman,' Philly?"
The operatives choked back their laughter at the 'Philly' remark. Who is that? they all wondered to themselves.
Phil's lips merely twitched into a ghost of a smile, as he simply replied, "Iron is shorter." He turned around to glance at the control panel. "We're a minute out. Deliver the party invitation, Iron."
"Oh, Phil, darling — I thought you'd never ask."
Megan slammed to the ground in Gulmira, sending dust flying. Her HUD pinpointed the men with weapons, and she assessed the situation. Several armed men stood nearby in a half circle around what could only be described as an execution: a trembling man on his knees, a rifle barrel held to his head.
Megan wasted no time and sent the would-be executioner flying with a well-aimed repulsor blast. In a flash, she was over their victim, shielding him as she blew back the remaining armed men. She went to work destroying the guns her targets had been wielding then moved on to the stockpiles of Stark weapons her HUD located for her. As she finished disarming the handful of Jericho missiles the terrorists had secured, she glanced at the sky and saw the S.H.I.E.L.D. VTOL swiftly approaching.
"I think you're going to miss out on all the fun, Philly," she announced through the team's voice link.
A mere moment later, her feet left the ground as a tank shell connected with her armor, flinging her backwards along the ground. Her armor was for more than offensive, however, and she quickly pulled herself to her feet, uninjured by the shot. The tank fired another shell, but she twisted sideways out of harm's way. She heard people running her direction, but her HUD identified them as Phil's operatives. Before the tank could send another shot, her right arm unveiled a small, mounted missile, which she promptly aimed and fired at the vehicle. The operatives arrived at her position in time to see her turn and walk away from the tank, which exploded into a fireball a second later.
"Yup. Totally missed the party. Too bad! I was hoping I'd get to play rough with you."
"Sorry to disappoint. I hope you had fun without me."
"Oodles." Her voice took on a more serious tone, as she continued, "I trust you'll make sure these people are all right."
"Of course. We'll take it from here. CENTCOM has been notified that you're with us."
Megan took off into the sky and began the flight back to the U.S.
'With you...'
Wednesday, December 17th, 2003 09:40p, MST | S.H.I.E.L.D. Secret Base, Roswell, New Mexico
As Megan departed from Gulmira, Director Nick Fury closed his administrative link to the visual and audio feed of the S.H.I.E.L.D. VTOL and operatives. He leaned back in his desk chair, steepled his fingers under his chin, and weighed his options regarding Megan Stark. Her ingenuity and resourcefulness were phenomenal — case in point, her escape from The Ten Rings — but she was hotheaded and easily suspicious. He had expected she wouldn't work well with others, especially anyone she didn't fully trust, but her actions had begun to change that presumption. Her invitation to Lt. Colonel Rhodes had been understandable given their relationship, but she had also turned to his operatives for assistance regarding evidence against Obadiah Stane — a clearly personal vendetta — and had actually cooperated with the Gulmira matter. It could be that her "doesn't play well with others" attitude was a farce, her opinions on the matter were changing, or her narrow focus on doling out justice saw the benefits of working with a team in some situations. He suspected the latter, in light of her insistence she alone deal with Stane.
Fury stood from his chair, reaching a decision. Accepting Megan into S.H.I.E.L.D. in any capacity was playing with fire, but the Avengers initiative had always been a risky endeavor. He would administer one last test: Obadiah Stane had been on their radar for some time as a potential security threat, and the risk of leaving him unchecked had finally become too high. When Megan confronted him, Fury would send her assistance. If she accepted the help, in spite of her earlier refusal of it, then he would extend her an offer to join S.H.I.E.L.D.
How will you choose, Stark?
Wednesday, December 17th, 2003 09:09p, PST | 10880 Malibu Point, 90265
Obadiah's team of soldiers cautiously approached Stark's home, covered by the night. Obadiah's engineers had failed in all of their attempts to make a miniaturized arc reactor, so Obadiah had resolved to take Stark's. Unfortunately, no one had been able to locate the ex-CEO. Out of options and unwilling to wait any longer, Obadiah had ordered a raid on the Stark residence, hoping to find either blueprints the engineers could use to recreate the miniature arc reactor or, if luck was on his side, an already constructed backup.
The team descended the helix entrance into the basement workshop, per Obadiah's instructions. They would need to use charges to break through, but they would have immediate access to location most likely to contain their target.
They had just reached the sealed door to the basement when Jarvis chimed in, "Good evening, gentlemen."
The team had known about the AI but were caught off guard by the abruptly shattered silence. They quickly recovered, however, knowing that the clock had just begun ticking; the AI would doubtlessly notify the authorities.
"I'm afraid that you don't have permission to be here, so I must ask you to leave. The authorities have been notified of your presence."
The charges placed, the men rushed away from the metal door. There was nowhere to take cover, so distance was the only safeguard against injury. The charges exploded violently, tearing a human-sized hole in the door. A back-up security door immediately began to slam shut, but it was too late: one of the men had seized the brief window of opportunity and flung a super-charged EMP grenade through the gap. Jarvis' attempts to block the artificial entrance were cut short as the grenade detonated, bathing the workshop in an electromagnetic pulse that killed all electronic devices in its wake. With Jarvis' resistance ground to a halt, the men immediately charged into the lab one by one through the hole they had created.
The team's plan of attack had depended entirely on the EMP grenade, which had been a necessary risk. Using it made the retrieval of any electronically stored designs impossible and chanced damage to any backup miniature arc reactors Stark had in the lab; without it, however, Jarvis would have assuredly delayed them long enough for the authorities to arrive. On their own, the men couldn't possibly have anticipated the sophistication of Jarvis or the most likely location their target would be stored, but Obadiah had intimate knowledge of the Stark home.
"I've got something here!" The speaker held up the device in question — the arc reactor Megan and Yinsen had built in Afghanistan.
"We're done here. Move out and prepare for evac."
Wednesday, December 17th, 2003 01:10p, CST | The skies over Shanghai, China; En route to the United States
"Miss Stark, there's been a security breach at the house," Jarvis announced to Megan as she cruised through the clouds at maximum speed.
"What? Who?"
"Men have... Well, that's odd."
"Odd? What the hell's going on?"
"I'm... not sure. I've lost all connection to the basement workshop, ma'am."
Megan grit her teeth in frustration. "What about the rest of the house?"
"Some of the cameras near the stairwell have died as well. I've checked the functioning units nearby; all electronic devices in the dark zone appear to have died. My preliminary assessment is that an EMP has been detonated. The radius suggests a point of origin in the workshop — specifically the exterior entrance."
"Have you called the cops?"
"I'm on the line with them now. It seems my security duplicate was able to put out a general distress call before the EMP hit him."
The land below Megan suddenly gave way to the ocean as she exited China.
"Ping Rhodey's phone. Where is he?"
"Location found. Lt. Colonel Rhodes is presently in Washington, D.C."
Well, shit, Megan thought to herself. It was worth a shot.
"Get Pepper on the line."
Wednesday, December 17th, 2003 09:13p, PST | Pepper Pott's Apartment
Pepper gave a frustrated sigh as she clicked her computer's mouse, opening another window on the PC's screen. It was littered with dozens of programs — the fruits of her efforts to keep herself engaged in something. Obadiah had fired her after she witnessed the confrontation between him and Megan, so she had no job. It was odd, she decided, to be unemployed. She had been Megan's personal aide since the black-haired genius had taken over Stark Industries as CEO, and during that time, she had always been busy — always another task to finish. It had only been a little over a year and a half, but the rigorous work schedule had become some commonplace that she simply had no idea what to do with her sudden overabundance of free time. She wasn't sure whether Megan would be able to reclaim her company or not, but nevertheless, she had decided to hold off on job hunting for a time. Even if Megan didn't succeed in the end, Pepper figured that her friend would appreciate the silent show of support.
Pepper clicked another hyperlink, despite knowing her efforts were in vain. For now, all she could do was wait.
As she blearily glanced over the web article, her cell began to ring. "Shoot to thrill! Play to kill!"
She groaned. Of course Megan changed my ringtone again...
She reached out towards the phone but fell away from it, startled, when the door to the room broke inwards in a flurry of wooden shards. Several armed men stood on the other side of the now displaced remnants of her door, and before she could move, two grenades were tossed into the room. Her world exploded in white light, leaving her effectively blind. Impulse compelled her to flee, even though her rational brain knew the only exit was through her assailants, but she found that her limbs were unwilling to cooperate. The sensation was over soon, as everything faded to black.
The attacker who had knocked Pepper unconscious grabbed her limp body and heaved her roughly over his shoulder.
One of his counterparts reached up to his earpiece. "Inform Mr. Stane that we have Potts."
Wednesday, December 17th, 2003 01:15p, CST | The skies over the Pacific Ocean; En route to the United States
"The call's been disconnected."
Megan's growled. While it was perfectly plausible, indeed even likely, that nothing was wrong, she couldn't escape the nagging feeling that Pepper had been forced to leave her phone unanswered.
"Jarvis, I need eyes on Pepper's apartment now. Get me satellite imaging, local security cameras — anything! Hack everything that isn't ours."
Jarvis was silent for a moment before responding, "The live feed for all security cameras in her complex is dead, but I have the earlier feed."
"Engage auto-pilot and pull up the footage."
Initially, nothing appeared amiss in the complex, but Megan's eyes widened in horror as she watched the various feeds systematically die, each time moments after small objects had been flung at them from a nearby corner.
Jarvis' voice interrupted the footage, announcing, "I've compared the uniforms of the men at Miss Pott's complex with external security footage at the house of the men who breached the workshop; they are identical, ma'am."
Coincidental? Unlikely, she thought to herself. "Do whatever is necessary to keep eyes on the men who kidnapped Pepper. Hijack every fucking camera in town, if you have to. I'm not going to let this stand!"
Her thoughts turned to Phil, knowing he likely had S.H.I.E.L.D. contacts near Pepper's apartment, but she hesitated. Before her stint in an Afghan cave, she never would have accepted help from such an outside party, much less actively sought it out. What had changed? Rhodes had suggested PTSD to her at one point, but she knew that wasn't the case. She had researched the matter, despite her insistence that she was fine, and had confirmed that she didn't meet any of the diagnostic markers. Furthermore, her change didn't line up with the symptoms of PTSD.
As much as she hated to admit it, the most likely culprit was that she had simply begun to see the appeal of working with others. She had always been a lone-gunner as a child, and the more she reviewed her earlier years, the more she became convinced the cause was how different she had felt from everyone. But that had begun to change. Her collaboration with Yinsen had been admittedly forced by the circumstances, but in hindsight, she could clearly see that she had bonded with him because of his intelligence. With Phil, she had begun to see the side of him that was willing to use whatever means were necessary to ensure justice was served. He had been happy to help her steal information from Obadiah's computer and had been willing to take the risks necessary to end the terrorist presence in Gulmira; she had solicited the first and taken charge of the second. She had been willing to get her hands dirty to ensure the good guys won and the bad guys lost, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had agreed with her at every step of the way.
Megan reached her decision. She made the call.
Thursday, December 18th, 2003 01:33a, PST | Stark Industries, CA
The metal clang of Megan's footsteps echoed in the darkness that covered Sector 16. She was making no efforts to muffle her steps as she examined her surroundings, her shoulder-mounted spotlight lighting the way for her.
"Stane!" she brazenly yelled into the abyss, her voice reverberating throughout the area.
She was doing everything she could to be noticed, short of blasting the structure. Her task was simple: ensure Obadiah knew she was there and, if possible, lure him out. Phil had still been half a world away when she called him, but he had made the arrangements for S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives to assist her.
"Director Fury already authorized us to assist your efforts to stop Stane. He's become a global security risk and must be neutralized."
The ambiguity of what it meant to "neutralize" Obadiah had left Megan a little queasy, but it had quickly passed once her hunch proved correct: Pepper's kidnappers brought her back to Stark Industries where they briefly met with Obadiah (Of fucking course!) outside Sector 16 before vanishing within. All the cameras inside it had been manually shut off by the central terminal, and after they had entered the dark zone, the rest of the building's cameras shutdown as well. Jarvis had attempted to restart them, but the building's main power had been disabled — the line between it and Howard Stark's arc reactor severed. Obadiah was clearly hiding his activities within, aware that Jarvis would have access to Stark Industries' central network.
"What's the matter, Stane? Haven't got the guts to face little ol' me?" Echoes then silence answered Megan's shouts.
She growled and continued to make her way through the darkness, stomping the whole way. Before long, her spotlight finally fell over something — her reassembled Mark I armor. Off to her right, she heard the unmistakable sound of a power suit activating, like her own suit's but deeper in pitch. She jumped back, her foot-mounted repulsors adding to her momentum, and a large, metal fist crushed into the ground she had just vacated. Megan stared in shock; the limb belonged to a gigantic, dirty silver suit outfitted with twin miniguns on both wrists.
Obadiah's voice projected through the speakers. "So you built another suit after all. I'm going to enjoy killing you, Stark."
Well, shit.
Elsewhere in the compound, Natasha Romanoff and her team of operatives systematically combed the area for signs of Pepper Potts. Obadiah's plan, they had tentatively determined, was a simple divide and conquer strategy. Pepper and Rhodes were Megan's only human support, as far as Obadiah knew, and while Rhodes was a difficult factor to neutralize, given his military ties, preventing Pepper from aiding Megan was manageable in terms of risks and rewards. But Megan did have more human support, S.H.I.E.L.D., and together, they had developed a plan of attack: Megan would act as the bait to draw out Stane, since she was the only person he would expect. Meanwhile, Natasha and her operatives would rescue Pepper while Obadiah was focused on Megan. Once Pepper was secured, the agents would help Megan neutralize Obadiah, if she hadn't done so herself already.
Pepper, however, was nowhere to be found. Megan had previously seized control of all security cameras on nearby structures, and the intel she had given them indicated that no one had left the compound by ground or air after Pepper was brought in. The structural layout had no tunnel exits, so unless Obadiah had secretly created one without anyone noticing heavy drilling equipment, Pepper had to be in the building.
Natasha reached the vicinity around Obadiah's office, which had its door closed. She silently approached the door, listening cautiously for anything that might be on the other side.
"So you built another suit after all. I'm going to enjoy killing you, Stark," said the voice of Obadiah, muffled by its passage through the door.
Natasha stared in confusion. Was Megan inside? She should be in Sector 16, she thought to herself.
Her earpiece came alive, the low volume setting preventing anyone but her from hearing it. "Obadiah got his hands on the suit I made in Afghanistan and somehow made a new one. He's armed with two miniguns. Don't approach Sector 16 — he'll rip you to pieces. Just leave him to me and find Pepper!"
She is in Sector 16 then. But then who's inside here?
Natasha backed away from the office to a distance safe enough for her talk and brought her finger to her earpiece. "Copy that, Iron. This is Widow. Verify: are certain that Stane is in the suit? I hear his voice coming from inside his office."
Megan said nothing for a moment, then replied, latching onto Natasha's terminology, "I hear his voice through the suit's speakers, but I can't verify, Widow. The suit is completely enclosed."
Natasha grimaced. "All agents converge on Stane's office ASAP; Iron, keep the hostile busy but do not injure it until we verify Stane's location."
Natasha's words seemed to reverberate in Megan's helmet as their implication sinking in. If Obadiah isn't in the suit, then who is?
The miniguns of said suit pelted the area she had been moments prior as she hastily dodged and weaved between the storage crates outside the complex. She had quickly made her way outside, hoping her suit's dexterity would have the advantage over the other, bulkier suit. So far, the other pilot had yet to leave the ground, settling for chasing Megan on foot. She kept herself just ahead of her pursuer, allowing her to dodge the suit's frenzied assaults but keep the other pilot focused on her.
"Jarvis, we need to find a way to neutralize that suit. Can you tell what's powering it?"
"Preliminary scans indicate a power signature that closely matches your old arc reactor, ma'am."
Megan groaned. "I guess we know what they were looking for at the house."
"An astute observation as always, ma'am."
Megan ignored the remark, thinking to herself, Its running on a palladium core, and palladium is pyrophoric. That means I could neutralize it with water, but that would almost certainly injure whoever's inside.
She barely dodged another flurry of bullets but was blindsided by a storage container the attacking suit had swung at her with its other hand.
The attacking suit came to a stop near her, its wrist-mounted miniguns directed at the ground while Obadiah's voice taunted her from within it. "What's the matter, Tony? I can keep this up all night."
Megan hastily picked herself up from and growled at Obadiah's use of her old name, but she suddenly grinned in realization. "All night," you say? Let's test that.
She rose to her full, albeit short height, and stared down the other suit like a gunslinger out of an old western movie. "Then bring it on, you bastard son of a gun barrel! I'm the Iron Woman, and I'm fucking invincible!"
Natasha listened with bated breath from outside Obadiah's office as she waited for the other agents to arrive.
"What's the matter, Tony? I can keep this up all night," the muffled voice of Obadiah proclaimed.
She could intermittently hear other voices inside the office, and while she had been able to identify them as masculine in tone, she hadn't been able to make out what they were saying.
"Then bring it on, you bastard son of a gun barrel! I'm the Iron Woman, and I'm fucking invincible!"
Natasha wouldn't have admitted it aloud, but internally, she gave Megan props for managing to take such a ridiculous line and make a legitimate battle cry out of it. Regardless, what stood out to her the most was the fact she could clearly hear Megan's voice in the office despite her being outside. That meant one of two things: either someone was inside the office observing the fight via live footage, or they were doing that and remote controlling the suit Megan was fighting.
"The 'Iron Woman'? What the fuck is the tranny talking about?" a male voice closer to the door said, his proximity allowing his voice to reach Natasha clearly.
"Who the fuck knows. I just hope it kills Potts by accident," another voice answered.
Natasha stared at the door. She could only presume that "it" meant Megan, but that didn't make sense unless —
Once again, Natasha swiftly but silently retreated far enough from the door. Ahead of her, she saw that most of her team had arrived, but she ignored them for the moment.
"Iron, Pepper is in the suit attacking you; it's being controlled remotely. Do you copy? They're trying to trick you into killing her."
The suit containing Pepper broke the lull of action, snapping its arms to the front and opening fire. The armor was slow, however, and Megan deftly side-stepped out of the line of fire and blasted into the air.
Megan boggled at the idea of Pepper in the suit, wondering why Obadiah would bother. Suddenly, everything clicked into place in her head.
Everything he's done to me has been a spectacle: He didn't just arrange for someone to kill me; he arranged for me to be killed by my own company's weapons. He didn't just tell me I'd been deposed as CEO; he came to my house to flaunt it and belittle me with ugly terms. And now, he's not just trying to kill me; he's trying to break me by making me kill my friend!
Her mind flashed back to Natasha's words. "All agents converge on Stane's office." Of course he would be there. Where else would he watch her fall from grace? He wanted to strike her down while he sat in the office that had once been hers — that had once been her father's.
"Widow, all agents — get away from the office. Now."
Megan abandoned the opposing suit and blasted towards the corner of the building her office had been. She burst through the walls of the office, pulled the caught off guard Obadiah into a headlock, and stared down his team, all of whom had trained their guns on her.
"Drop your weapons," Megan intoned with a deadly seriousness.
The men did nothing. They neither did as Megan asked nor did they attempt to attack her. They knew that they couldn't stop her; they had seen her take blows from the remotely operated suit but get up without a moment's hesitation. Worse yet, if they tried to shoot her, they knew that their boss would invariably be caught in the cross-fire. But despite all of that, they also could not obey her.
Megan prepared to assault the men, unwilling to allow the impasse to continue, but stopped when Natasha's spoke through the voice channel. "Cover your eyes, Iron."
Megan shut off her visual sensors as the door burst inwards, two small canisters hot on its tail. The stun and flashbang grenades exploded simultaneously, leaving the men defenseless as the S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives rushed into the room and handcuffed them. Megan restored her visuals and watched the agents do their job.
"No." Obadiah croaked out from behind the armored headlock, his eyes still blinded. "No!"
His cry oozed with anguish — pure, unadulterated anguish. He began to thrash wildly against Megan's grasp, struggling in vain to break free, to somehow undo what had just happened.
"Iron." Megan looked up into the cold eyes of Natasha Romanoff. "We have our orders. Kill him."
Megan stared into those eyes. The blue eyes that she knew were green when they first met. The eyes of a person who killed on command, who changed who she was from mission to mission, who was one with the shadows that ate up other, darker shadows. Would her eyes look like that someday, if she continued to work with S.H.I.E.L.D.? Would her gaze become that same, bottomless abyss? It was a truly frightening thought to her. But what frightened her more was what had almost happened her tonight. But for the presence of those hardened eyes, Megan might have killed Pepper. Accident or not, she knew she would have been unable to bear the guilt of her actions.
Megan looked down at the squirming man she held in place — the same man who tried to take everything from her and nearly succeeded. She snapped his neck.
As the life ebbed out of Obadiah's still twitching body, Megan knew she had just stepped onto a slippery slope, but she also knew that this couldn't have ended any other way.
She tossed aside the corpse, and turned gaze upon Natasha once more, her face plate opening up so that she could see those eyes with her own.
"I need to meet with Director Fury."
Thursday, December 18th, 2003 04:46a, PST | 10880 Malibu Point, 90265
"Miss Stark, a Director Fury is here to see you. He's assured me that he 'does not own your fucking house' and is willing to wait for your permission. Shall I let him in?"
"Yes." Here's hoping for a smooth ending to this god-forsaken day...
Megan stood from the couch and began making her way towards the front door. She met him there in the entryway and saw the Director for the first time. He was an African-American man with a chin and lip beard and was decked out in black: black boots, pants, turtleneck, and leather jacket. An eye patch, likewise black, covered his left eye, under which two long scars stretched from his forehead down to his cheek. She felt sorely under dressed in her usual dark red yoga pants, short-sleeved, black zip-up hoodie, and black sandals, but she knew it didn't matter to this man. This was an individual who could pierce the outer veil with his eye and see the person behind it.
"Miss Stark, my people tell me that you practically handled the entire operation by yourself tonight." Introductions weren't necessary, not with Fury.
"I wouldn't say single-handedly, sir. I couldn't have solved the equation without all the variables. Widow and the others got me those variables."
Fury nodded. He had known as much but wanted to see if she could admit as much.
"I'll be honest with you, Miss Stark. When I first read that transcript of your conversation in Bost, I didn't think you'd be a good fit in my organization, but you have since proved me wrong. I have a job offer for —"
"I refuse."
Fury quirked his one visible eyebrow. "Care to illuminate me regarding why?"
Megan coolly retorted, "Don't get me wrong, Director. I will do the job, but I refuse to accept payment for it. I'm doing this because it needs to be done."
They stood there for a moment, their gazes locked — two titans caught up in the gravity of the other.
Finally, Fury smirked. "Iron Woman — I'm here to talk to you about the Avenger Initiative."