The Last Chronicle

by Miss Starfire

After years of struggling to build their lives together, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts have lost everything. But as all-out war looms, and the fate of the world hangs in the balance, Tony and Pepper are ready to take it all back. It has all come down to this. Story 8 of 8. The epic finale to The Last Chronicles Saga.

15. Chapter 14

Guest Review Responses

Thank you for the favorite/follow: GinnyandHarry14, and LoveTVshows.

Iron kid: It keeps on getting better and better so keep up the great work – Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I sometimes fear that this story has gone on for too long, and that I've taken way too long to update, that people are just not interested anymore.

Iron kid: Plz update soon because I can't wait to see what happens next – So sorry! But here it is! A chapter that I know will be worth the wait.

A/N: Physical therapy at the doctor's location is over. Now I am doing the rest at home. Feel sooooooo much better!

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Chapter 14

The young woman entered the penthouse alone, which was unexpected, but could prove to be the opportunity he had been waiting for. He remained where he was, standing in front of the balcony doors, as she locked the front door behind her, set the internal lockdown mode that only she and her husband could unlock, and then dropped her purse on the couch in the living room.

As she began to walk around the penthouse, going to each room and picking up small items here and there, placing them in their properly designated locations, he followed along after her, slowly drawing closer and closer to her as he observed her actions, but never too close that a sudden change of direction from her could result in a collision between them. On the surface, she appeared to be calm, but the readings of her vital signs that his armor was showing him indicated that she was slightly on edge; anxious, nervous even. He was not certain why, but figured that he would learn as he continued to observe her.

Upon entering the master bedroom, she stopped and took from her pocket her Stark pod and tapped in a short text, most likely notifying Stark that she made it home safely. The mad doctor rolled his eyes at the thought. After a moment, a soft ping and a smile on her face indicated the inventor's response, followed by the redhead turning the sound off and setting the device on her nightstand. She then stretched her arms above her head with a loud groan.

"I need a shower," she whispered. It surprised him little that she would not only talk when no one was around, but also whisper, just in case the people who were not around happened to overhear her. It made perfect sense of course, in absolutely no way whatsoever.

As she began walking toward the bathroom, she began to remove her clothing. Doom watched with no interest at all in the fact that she was stripping in front of him. He had seen her naked before while spying on the penthouse residents. The tyrant felt nothing from this – he was beyond such base human reactions. However, he was intrigued at the idea of attempting to scan her while she was showering again. The last time he had attempted to do so, she had somehow seen him, or at least his silhouette. He still did not know how she had done that, but it had only further increased his certainty that the ginger held a great secret that Killian somehow knew about, but was not sharing with him.

He waited while she examined her bare form in the full-length mirror, paying special attention to the various scars that stood out on her body. They were relatively small, however, and certainly nothing when compared to his own scars – and that was without counting the damage Yogthulu had dealt to his body.

The girl finally turned toward the shower stall, running her hands over two bracelets, one on each wrist, that she apparently intended to wear while showering. She entered the stall, closed the glass door, and then turned the water on full force at the highest temperature. The room began to fill with steam almost immediately.

This was where Doom knew he could learn the most about her. She was at her most vulnerable in just this situation, and easier to inspire fear in, which would give him the clearest reading that he could get. On the previous occasion that he had been in here while she showered, he had been attempting to run a specialized scan of her body tissue to see if anything was out of the ordinary. He had just received the first blip of information from that scan when she had somehow noticed him standing outside the stall, speaking to him under the belief that it was her husband in the room with her, and had then opened the door to take a look. He had teleported out of the penthouse the moment she had moved to open the door.

He did not know how she had managed to detect his presence, but he was more certain than ever that something was out of the ordinary with her. That was why he was here now; prepared to make a scene while she was distracted in order to frighten her and hopefully get a better reading on her.

Ultimately, it did not matter. Although his plans for Stark had changed, she was still very much fated to die. After having assembled his own version of The Controller's Mainframe, and learning that Tony Stark's unique Extremis was essential to its function of controlling the minds of the world's population, Doom had changed the terms of his bounty to focus on the inventor's wife and son. After Maya Hansen had brought the child into his custody alive, and Killian had convinced him that the boy's secrets would grant them both the cure they sought for their ailments, he had altered it again to focus the full reward money solely on Pepper Potts.

But more than this, the continued existence of the ginger bothered him for a more personal reason. Having spied upon and learned about Stark's connection with her for the last several years, his observations had inevitably led him to make comparisons between the spunky redhead and his own dearly departed Valeria. Although the two women did not share a physical resemblance, the behaviors, mannerisms, sharp wit, and strength of spirit that Pepper Potts exhibited was virtually indistinguishable from the doctor's own long lost fiancée.

And – it could not be denied – Doom hated her for that; her and Stark. Despite everything they had gone through, these two had been able to return to one another, time and time again, growing stronger and closer together, and living the happy life of young lovers that had been romanticized in the minds of naïve people for centuries. Why should these two get what they wanted and be happy, when he, Victor von Doom, who possessed the greatest mind and greatest power of any human to ever walk this Earth, had lost everything he had cared about?

No; he would not tolerate it. He had told Iron Man once that he had known nothing of pain or misery, but that he would make him learn it. In spite of all that had occurred in these last few years, Stark had only learned the first few mere examples of what pain and misery truly were. He was yet to justly comprehend the lesson. But he would, once his precious ginger was finally taken from him forever.

For now, however, Doom was content with learning whatever mystery the young woman's body was keeping – if Aldrich Killian was willing to run the risk of being found withholding valuable information from the most powerful man on Earth, then researching the subject in person was worth his time. He moved closer to the glass door of the shower stall, just as he had last time. She gave no indication that she was aware of his presence this time, and she continued with the process of washing her body. Waving his hand slightly, Doom used the features of his armor to subtly unlock the stall door, which could normally only be done from the inside. In a moment, he would fling the door open and startle her, and as she screamed and cringed back against the tiled wall of the stall, he would use her heightened stat of fear and panic to–

It happened so quickly that, in hindsight, it seemed almost to be a simultaneous occurrence of a sequence of events. In a space of time that realistically took place in less than two full seconds, the showering redhead flicked both of her wrists, which still held the purple and silver bracelets, and several tiles on the back wall of the stall popped open and down, revealing an opening roughly one foot squared in size, to a hidden compartment. Out of this open compartment, an armored gauntlet flew and attached itself to the woman's hand. Using the momentum created by the action, the redhead spun in place and fired the gauntlet's repulsor right through the shower's glass door.

Doom stumbled back as the blast hit him squarely in his wide chest, his armor protecting him from any actual harm, but the shock and audacity of her sudden action had caught him completely off-guard. He almost missed it as she began shouting at him.

"Who are you?" she spat with ire as another piece of the Rescue suit surrounded her left foot, giving her half a chance to propel herself into the air. "What do you want? Who sent you here?"

She followed the questions with two more blasts that he was barely able to evade. The chest piece of her armor attached itself to her body at that moment, and she immediately used its unibeam to blast him again.

The explosion caused by this attack set off the alarms and sprinklers in the penthouse, and Doom reeled away from the redhead, who continued to scream and shoot at him, making his way back into the master bedroom. He became aware of security shutters sliding into place over all of the windows as the residence went fully into lockdown mode. Not bothering to open them, Doom slammed himself into the double doors of the bedroom, splintering them in all directions as he attempted to put some distance between himself and Stark's wife, who was somehow able to partially see him and continued to call on pieces of the still-assembling armor in order to hunt him down.

"Get back here, you son of a bitch!"

Her screamed insult made him stop where he was inside the living room, deciding that he had come far enough to have gathered his bearings. He did not run from battle no matter what the circumstance, and his momentary startlement over her attack was not enough to make him teleport away to safety; not after being challenged in such a way. He did not care if his body was not stable enough to engage in combat with a fighter as well-armed and seasoned as his opponent was. He did not care that the risk was not worth the cost. If the little bitch wanted to play like that, then fine, he would play. He was Doctor Victor von Doom, and by the wretched name of Dormammu's defiled mother, she would feel his wrath!

Holding his hands out to his side, he activated the gravity manipulation feature of his armor – using its quantum field to give himself telekinesis for all intents and purposes – and lifted all of the furniture in the room. The couch, the recliner, the ottoman, the coffee table, the lamps, everything he grabbed hold of with his power; only to then fling it all through the air at once, directly at the oncoming and now fully suited redhead. Using all of the thrusters her armored suit had, she managed to dodge each object, although barely.

"There's nowhere to go!"

She was trying to intimidate him with the notion of his being trapped with her, but he was already way ahead of her and her childish tactics. As she had been dodging the furniture, Doom had increased the power going to his cloak, trying to close himself off further from the visible spectrum. Since the young lady clearly was only able to partially detect his presence, he would have the advantage again if he was able to diminish what she could sense. Not knowing how she was able to do this, he would most likely not be able to adjust the settings enough to fade from her detection entirely, but with just enough obscurity covering him, he might have a chance.

He watched as her head moved side to side, searching for him, and then stood still in the center of the room. He assumed she was trying to focus on sensing where he was, either with the tech of her suit or through some other means unknown to him. It mattered little; she would not need to find him. It was his turn now.

Moving as quickly and silently as possible, he zoomed up close to her front and punched her in the face as hard as he could. The force propelled her across the room and into the doors leading out to the balcony. The glass and wood of the doors crumbled around her as she slammed into the security shutters on the other side, hard enough to make them visibly ripple with the impact.

She pulled away from the destroyed doors and protective outer shielding, leaving a dent comically shaped to match her armored figure in the metal, and set her feet on the ground, shaking her head and letting out an audible groan from the pain such an impact would have left on her back. He gave her no time to recover, however, and zoomed up to her again, throwing another punch at her face.

She managed to put up her left forearm to block the hit in time, deflecting his fist and arm to the side, instantly bringing her right knee up and impacting with his lower stomach. It was one of the areas where his armor was weakest, although that was not saying much. Still, he felt the impact enough to feel just the slightest bit of queasiness through his incomplete and heavily scarred body, and the sheer force made him stumble slightly back.

He allowed her no time to make another move after that, having thoroughly tired of this whole affair. He reached down with his left arm and grabbed her right foot before she could set it back on the ground following the kick. He straightened his slightly bent knees, standing to his imposing height of six feet and seven inches, raising his arm as high as he could to lift the upside-down girl higher still. She began screaming and thrashing around, deploying flares and thrusters, and even going so far as to begin making petty threats of what she was going to do to him once she was free from his grasp. The mad doctor nearly chuckled out loud, he was so genuinely amused by the very thought.

Humorous though she was at the moment, Doom decided that he had definitely had enough of this game. He turned her slightly in his hand and brought his own knee up with as much force as he could muster, hammering it firmly into the center of her back. He heard the breath expel from her mouth and she began to gasp. He slammed her back to the ground, and with a little bit of admittedly difficult trickery, used his power to open the faceplate of her armor. The redhead was quite dazed from the impact, and he doubted she would remember that he had opened her helmet, or was even aware of it now. He could probably drop his invisibility cloak right now and she would not know that her attacker knelt before her, never mind who it was.

Once her face was exposed, he commanded his armor to scan her tissue. The close range, heightened adrenaline, and other hormonal chemicals slushed together in her blood right now, should give him the best possible reading of what was going on inside her.

After a few moments, the scan was complete, but he did not bother to look at the results. He would do that later. The ginger was showing signs of regaining focus, and an alert from her open helmet indicated that the automated Iron Man armors were closing in and converging on the Stark Solutions headquarters. They would enter the penthouse very shortly and attack anything that registered as a threat to the redhead's safety. As such, he closed her faceplate and teleported out of there, leaving the young woman to take whatever action she would once she regained her senses, and prepared himself to make the journey back to Latveria.

He was fairly certain that his time of infiltration was at an end. Now, it was time to begin preparing for the operation he would be launching just a few short months from now. His army of Doombots was now complete; his armaments were almost fully equipped and loaded, and the information he had just obtained from Pepper Potts-Stark would be added to what he had already gained from her husband and son. He would be ready in no time at all.

The world's new era, the era of Doom, would soon begin.

xxxXXXxxx

"Ladies and gentlemen: Welcome to Castle Doom."

"Cozy," Iron Man ironically spat before he retracted his suit.

"You don't say," Rescue added as she also made her armor return to its backpack form.

"We only have a few minutes," Maya reminded them. "The intruder alarm was set off a long time ago. Let's get what we need from this floor and get the hell out."

"Are you sure Killian is not around here?" Pepper asked, her eyes narrowed, denoting that she was using Extremis to try to locate the man's aura, if nearby. While her abilities were far beyond what a regular human being could ever hope to have, they were not as widespread as Gene Khan's or her son's could amount to be. Even if she wanted to, with every atom in her being, her aura abilities were limited to as far as her eyes could see or as far as her own aura could extend. Gene's and James Stark's aura detecting abilities had, for all practical purposes, no true bounds; walls, doors, or any other type of similar physical obstructions meant nothing to either of them.

"Nope," Maya shook her head with confidence. "Knowing him, he's probably already on his way out, the coward."

"We'll get him later, Pepper," Tony placed a hand on Pepper's shoulder.

"Yeah. I know," she sighed in disappointment.

"Well, then. Let's go get your son."

Maya walked past the duo and began her trek towards the location of her lab, knowing that Tony and Pepper would not hesitate to follow her lead once she did. Even if their suits had told them that there was no pending danger lurking in the shadows, the trio still kept their eyes and ears wide open; their steps being exceedingly calculated, on top. It was not long until they finally stopped in front of the closed door they had been searching for. Almost immediately so, Maya ran her badge through the card reader, expecting it to instantly unlock the door for them, but she then frowned when the scanner beeped to reject her keycard.

"Dammit! It's not gonna work," Maya groaned. "Maybe we can–"

BOOM!

The botanist's suggestion never saw the day of light, as before she even finished making her proposal, Tony had suited up, had aimed his left hand towards the handle, and had then used his repulsor to blow the locking mechanism clean off the door.

"It's open now!" Pepper cheerfully said, almost with a skip in her step, and then followed Tony inside.

"Blow it up, I guess," Maya rolled her eyes as she finished her previous sentence, shook her head from side to side at Tony's hyperbolic solution, but then walked inside the lab, nonetheless.

The three of them stood by the door, taking in the state of the room they had just arrived to. Maya remembered the lab to have seen much better days; at least while she had been around to tidy it up – a time when blood spills had not been allowed to dry up and stain the concrete floors. Some of the lightbulbs had been blown, some had been removed, and others had been broken off, leaving the once pristine work area to have uneven sources of light. Even in the low light they were encountering, it was clear that someone had been tossing stuff around, completely disregarding the chaos left behind by such acts. In fact, for a brief yet scary instant, the floors littered with parts of dismembered electronic devices and the overall disarray of this lab reminded Tony of the time he had met a similar situation upon his arrival at the submarine in the South Pole. And he hoped that his son was not in the same condition in which he had found his redhead, back then.

"James? James, it's time to come out. It's Maya. I'm back!" the woman said, and neither Tony nor Pepper could keep the gasp of surprise that left their lips. It was one thing to imagine what it would be like to be reunited with their once-believed-dead son – and it was an entirely different thing to hear his name being uttered with the sole intention of getting a response from the little boy.

"James!" Maya insisted when her initial request was met by silence. "It's OK to show yourself. I'm here now."

"Maybe he's not here," Tony said, carefully avoiding words that could be misinterpreted by his hopeful redhead.

"He should be," Maya began walking towards her computer to fire it up. "Doom wouldn't let him be in the middle of the fight. And Killian is enough of a selfish asshole to just leave him behind."

"Howie? Are you in here?" Tony tried, his eyes and his HUD scanning whatever he could see of the lab, as grim thoughts crossed his mind. Did his son even know who he was? Did he even remember his own name? Did he recall that he had once been a happy baby, back at home, with his mom and his dad?

Did he remember them?

The group silently and patiently waited a few more seconds for a response. When they encountered the same silence as before, Tony opened his faceplate and narrowed his eyes at the brunette.

"Maya, if you fucking lied to us… if you told us that–"

"He's here," Pepper's shaking palms landed on her chest and then briefly on her mouth. "He-he's here… Tony…"

"Where? Where is he, Pep?"

"I don't know. I can't see him. But I can feel him. He's here, Tony," the ginger grabbed him by his arm, her eyes filling up with tears of joy. "He's here! He's here!"

Tony gave Pepper's hand on his arm a light squeeze before he took a step towards the middle of the lab. He looked left, right, and then underneath one of the nearby lab tables, but his HUD did not show any signs of human life. There were readings of rodents, insects and other minor life forms, but nothing showed the presence of a little boy hiding nearby.

"Pep, I don't… I mean…"

"Jimmy!" Pepper joined Tony where he stood. "Jimmy! It's Mommy and Daddy! We… we're not mad!"

Tony's head snapped to his left to stare at Pepper in confusion, only a second later remembering that Pepper could not only see auras, but she could sense people's feelings as well. And what would a small child believe of his parents if he was suddenly abandoned by them? What would a baby, even one as unique as their son was, assume of his family if he one day was left behind?

"Howie, come out! We… I'm not mad at you. I… I'm sorry we haven't been around. I'm sorry that–"

Tony's next words were interrupted by the sound of something falling to the floor, just a few feet from where they were now standing, making both parents gasp. Time seemed to stand still. Their hearts appeared to have skipped a beat. And just as they had gathered enough courage to take yet another step in the direction the sound had come from, the electricity in the room was cut down.

"Dammit!" Maya slammed her hands against the keyboard. "I wasn't done double-checking that our blueprints are still accurate!"

"We'll make due," Pepper said, her armor starting to cover her body when she felt a chill run down her spine. "We need to get out of here, soon. I sense Doombots coming. Let's find Jimmy and get out."

"How many?" Tony asked, his faceplate closing once more.

"Too many for us to take down on our own," Pepper replied.

"Split up," Maya grabbed a flashlight, "I'll take the middle."

"Right," Pepper said.

"Left," Tony stated.

Before anything else could take place, the three members of the resistance began frantically searching for the youngest Stark.

The lab seemed so impossibly large despite how much smaller it was compared to the Makluan Temple. The lack of proper illumination caused Maya to stumble a few times, cursing loudly every time she did so, as she kicked more and more stuff out of her way – not immediately realizing that what she was walking into were meant to be traps. Tony's HUD was working on overdrive, adding only to the inventor's frustration that, even with all his technology at his disposition, he was unable to scan the entire area for his son… or to focus on what was actually happening before him.

How difficult could it really be, one might wonder, to find a small child in one room? He had done it before, when James had escaped his crib back at the now non-existent Stark Solutions penthouse. If his son was here, being searched by three goddamned adults, why was he so difficult to find?

Unless, of course, it was because he was not really here. Unless Maya had lied about his whereabouts. Unless Pepper was mistaken about feeling his aura. Unless this was all just a fucked up dream or a hallucination of his, much like the ones that kept randomly attempting to take over his brain… as it was the case right now.

Tony stopped where he stood, closed his eyes, and shook his head to clear his mind. He did not know why or how, but his eyes were seeing things that he knew were not really there. One moment, he was seeing what he knew was reality: Maya's old lab in Castle Doom. The next moment, he was seeing the penthouse, his penthouse, with the living room furniture upturned by him when he had been searching for his missing child.

He knew the similarities were there, but this was not enough of a good reason for his eyes to blend the two situations to the extent that he was not sure where or when he currently was.

He opened his eyes and took in a deep breath to calm his slowly rising vital signs. He knew that Pepper could see them on her HUD and that, even if she was not at present actively monitoring his vitals, she could still sense his distress. He had to calm down. He had to focus. He had to do the job he had dragged his ass all the way to Latveria for.

He spared a glance in the general direction where Maya's flashlight randomly shone at different parts of the lab. It appeared as if she was not having much luck with her search, either; a fact that made his faith begin to evaporate. He was almost at the end of his side of the room, as was Maya, which could only mean that James Howard Stark was not truly in here. Or that he was remarkably good at hide-and-seek, if one still wanted to be naïve about what was going on.

It'll break her heart, Tony thought of his wife, watching her from his current position as she desperately searched every inch of her side of the room. Her presence and actions were clear to him thanks to the enhancements brought on by the suit, but this only meant that he could easily see how hopeful she still was. She did not move from one spot until she inspected it to exhaustion, and only then would she move to the next inch in her search. She was clinging to hope – hanging by a thread; drawing at straws, and bleeding, breathing and sweating that incredible amount of bottomless optimism he knew her to have and loved her for.

"Tony… I… I'm sorry."

Maya's words reached only his ears; Pepper was too engrossed in her task to notice that her two companions had stopped their search – that they had given up. It was almost as the time he and Pepper had realized they would no longer find anyone else alive during the train derailment incident, years ago. Almost. This situation was much worse to him, however: he actually personally knew who the victim was.

His son.

He retracted the armor and looked down, all of his willpower busy with keeping him from lashing out. He knew it was not really anyone's fault other than Killian's and Doom's, but that did not mean his rational side was in a position to silence his emotional one. His hands were shaking. His heart was racing. And this time, he did not care if Pepper could sense his escalating distress. He needed to get it all out now, before Pepper fell prey to the same reality and understanding that he was already facing. Before his redhead realized their son was gone, that he had been taken out of their reach once again, just when they had been so close to getting him back.

He inhaled through his nose. He swallowed hard. He lifted his head and aimed his eyes towards the spot where Pepper was now standing still. He could not see her outline as clearly without the suit on him to aid him, but he could see enough natural glow from her own armor to know where she was. He licked his dried lips, exhaled through his mouth, and just as he was about to call her name, he heard her speak instead.

"Jimmy?" her voice was but a soft gasp, yet in the utter silence of the lab, it carried into his ears as if she had shouted the name with all she had.

Neither Maya nor Tony knew if she was actually speaking to the child, or if she was starting to let the pain finally take over her. She was not moving much. She was not speaking much. She was not doing much of anything at all, actually, until the unmistakable sound of the Rescue armor pushing into its backpack form bounced off the walls.

Pepper gulped, slowly lowered herself until she was crouching, her left fingertips hovering over the floor to help her stay in place, and decided that technology – the same technology she had once so blindly relied upon to tell her what reality was – was absolutely wrong.

The suit had told her nothing was there, but Extremis had told her that there was. And now that the suit was gone, now that her eyes were allowed to do what they were supposed to do, she could see that Extremis was right.

"James," Pepper said in a particularly slow and loving voice that Tony had only heard when she spoke to their child. It was probably a mother's tone; one that he would have never known existed in her if their son had never been born.

"It's OK. It's alright. It's me. It's Bep."

Just like that, after those simple words, the electrical power returned to the room; all thanks to little James Howard Stark pressing the button that he had learned would make every shiny thing in this room turn on. Even lights that no one had even been aware were there.

Sensing that he was nearby had been a test for her mind.

Seeing his aura in the dark had been shattering to her soul.

Witnessing his current state of affairs was a bullet to her heart.

A bullet that only made her hatred for Aldrich Killian grow even more.

The little boy was pressing his back against a corner of the wall, his left hand still on the button that had restored power to the lab. In his right hand, he held a small piece of molded bread, crumbs of it attached to his lips, chin, and sprinkled all over his stained, ripped, old-looking shirt, which was a couple of sizes too big for him; yet, said clothing item appeared to be the only thing covering his tiny and disheveled form. His face was marked with what the redhead knew to be remnants of untended tears, sported what had to be very recent bruises and scratches (some of which were disappearing before her eyes), and small traces of blood. His arms, and whatever she could see of his legs, told a similar story of the misfortune her son had survived by himself in God-knew-how-long. A similar fate that she herself had personally overcome once before.

She could take it.

She had taken it.

And she would surely be able to take it again, in the blink of an eye.

But not her son.

Not. Her. Son.

Even if she knew that he could physically take the abuse, perhaps more than she did, this was not what she wanted for her poor son.

He was innocent. A mere child. Still just a baby, really. Who would do such things to a baby?

A monster. A heartless, son of a bitch.

And that was exactly what Aldrich Killian was.

She was angry. Extremis was angry. And they both wanted revenge. Right now.

She bit her tongue to keep her face from contorting into one that would surely frighten the already scared and confused toddler. She pushed down her feelings of blind anger that she knew her son would misinterpret as being directed towards him. She allowed a smile to appear on her face. She let tears start to pool in her hazel orbs; tears of so many emotions she could not successfully list. Although, she was sure that happiness was at the top of it.

Her son was alive. Her baby was alive. And he was standing just three feet before her, waiting to be told that he was never ever again going to be alone.

James tilted his head to the right, knitted his brow, and even lowered his head the smallest bit – his mouth slowly opening to utter a single word to the woman he clearly remembered dearly caring for him.

"Mama?"

The little boy smiled when he felt the change in his mother's mood, and Pepper Potts's knees hit the ground.

"MAMA!"

She gasped when she felt the warmth of his skin against hers, his head buried into her belly, and his arms barely being able to get halfway around her midsection. Her trembling hands held onto his body as she closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet toddler scent she knew belonged to him. She began sobbing and laughing at the same time, almost did not catch the quick steps closing in on her, and then opened her eyes again when she heard her son whimper a little bit.

"Mama, I hurt."

For a second, the redhead thought that James was injured, or that maybe he had been poisoned in the same way she had been infected by Whitney Stane. But this was not a submarine, and James was a lot stronger than any other baby boy. He was the son of Iron Man and Rescue, after all. He was a very special and resilient little boy.

Not to mention, her aura told her that he was fine. He was more than fine. He was elated. He was excited. He was barely able to contain his endless joy. His parents had finally come back for him. Maya had finally done what she had said she would do.

"I'm sorry," Pepper said as she pulled back from him to wipe his face with her hands, suddenly realizing the toddler had merely implied her embrace had been too much, even for him. "I'm sorry, baby. Mommy is sorry."

"Okay, Mama," James carefully patted his mother's cheek. "I okay."

Pepper chuckled, amazed by the child's understanding and his use of words that she knew were beyond his age. He was still speaking in broken sentences, but it was clear that whatever he was able to piece together, made a lot more sense than anyone would have expected of him.

Before another second went by, Pepper began kissing her son's face all over, earning her a delighted giggle from the ticklish boy. He tried to return some of the pecks his mother was giving him, but she was too fast for him right now. The redhead alternated between hugging him, kissing him, and telling her child that she loved him and that she had missed him, stopping her task only when she saw a familiar look on his face suddenly appear.

She did not need to have Extremis to know who was right behind her. Or why her son was suddenly in complete awe.

She felt Tony kneel to her right, and his left hand land on her shoulder to balance himself, while his shaky right hand reached out to touch his son's face. The little boy returned the favor by using his index finger to poke his father's cheekbone a couple of times, squeaking in bliss when Tony laughed at the childish move.

"Dada."

Tears began welling in Tony's eyes at hearing his son using the word he had longed to hear him say when referring to him, but he held them back to remain strong for his family, instead gracing his son with the most joyful smile he could muster.

"Howie."

James's eyes lit up at the look of approval he was now receiving from his parents before he found himself being crushed by them. They were just as he remembered them – warm, loving, and kind. They were nothing like the two other men he had been hiding from in this small room. They were nothing like the evil metal men that he had prayed would not find him here.

"Guys," Maya's voice was apologetic. "I hate to break up the moment, but we have to leave."

"Aya!" the child said with glee when he suddenly remembered that the woman was also there.

"Hi, James," the brunette smiled and waved her hand, and the toddler giggled at the gesture. She wanted to pick him up and hug him, even ask for forgiveness for taking so long to come back for him, but she did not have the heart to pry the little boy from his parents yet again – no matter how voluntary this particular instance appeared to be.

"You're right," Pepper nodded, wiped tears from her face, and stood up with James in her arms. "We still have a lot to do before we can relax."

"How close are the bots, Pep?" Tony was now standing up, his eyes checking for signs of injury on his son.

"They'll be here any minute. We need to keep going. We need to… well…"

"Separate," Tony finished for her, a sad smile appearing on his face.

"Yeah," she pulled her son closer to her face to place a quick kiss on his forehead.

James did not understand everything that was being said, but he did not have to. He could feel his parents' auras change; and he did not like what he saw. Just a second ago, they had both been very happy. But now, they were both beginning to show signs of fear and sadness again.

"Dada?" James grabbed a fistful of Tony's shirt. "Dada go?"

Tony briefly closed his eyes, wishing his son was older – much older – so that he would completely understand the gravity of the situation they were in. Even as an adult, he was yet to understand and accept what was happening around them. He could not imagine how someone so young could even begin to make sense of it all.

But he still had to try. He still had to attempt the almost impossible feat of explaining to a toddler that he had a very important job to do.

"Howie," Tony began after opening his eyes, his tone of voice one that the child recognized as one his father used when he was being serious about something. "You… I need to go, OK? I'll be back. But I need to go away for a little while. Do you understand that?"

The little boy's eyes began filling up with tears and his quivering mouth turned upside down, but he nodded anyway.

"Uh-huh."

"I'll come back to get you. I promise. But I need to do something first."

This time, the boy not only nodded, but he also sniffled, showing bravery and understanding beyond his years. Tony felt his heart break at seeing his son hold back wails, acting nothing like a child his age would at the idea of being separated from his father yet again.

"James," Maya walked a little closer to the family of three, sensing her assistance was needed to speed things along. "Do you remember the playroom?"

"Yah," the boy replied.

"Is it still there?"

James narrowed his eyes, looked away from the trio and in the direction the brunette knew the Power Core Room was located, and he then returned his attention to the group.

"Yah."

"OK. Good. That's good," Maya inhaled. "You have to go back there. Back into the playroom. And you have to go all the way to the middle. You think you can do that?"

"Uh-huh," James nodded, by now knowing the correct path to the center of the room.

"Howie," Tony grabbed his son's fist to get his full attention. "Mommy is going with you. She needs to go with you into the… playroom."

James furrowed his brow for an instant, obviously processing the words at his simpler level. He then stared away from his father and towards his mother, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Mama? Mama go… wif me?"

"Yes," Pepper nodded and gave her son a reassuring smile. "I want to go play there. Can you take me?"

The nervous gulp of the child was evident to the adults in the room; and fear for his mother's safety began pouring out of his little body. He had never taken anyone inside the playroom before – it had always just been him alone. And the one time he had tried to take Maya with him, she had almost been hurt. He knew that he could do things others could not do; and he was not sure if his mother would be able to make it to the room. He had just gotten her back, and as happy as he was that she wanted to go with him to the playroom, he did not want to see his Mama close her eyes to never open them again.

Just like that lady in one of the rooms in this hall was. He did not want his Mama to be unmoving, stinky and scary-looking, like that lady that shared aura colors with Maya.

"Don't be scared, sweetie," Pepper's smile never faltered. "I'll be OK. Right, Tony? I'll be OK in the playroom, right?"

"Yes," Tony smiled as well. "Your mom will be OK with you. And you know why? Because you're gonna take care of her, Howie. You're a big boy. You're strong. And your mom is strong, too. You and your Mama. You'll both be OK."

"You and me, Jimmy," Pepper rubbed her son's back. "It'll be you and me."

"You… and me, Mama?"

"Yup," Pepper nodded. "You and me."

"Dada go?"

"No. But I'll come back," Tony reminded his son. "I'll be back. Just… just stay away from bad people. Stay away from Killian. And stay away from Doom."

The child paled at the sound of the Metal Man's name, and his eyes widened in utter fear as he spoke again.

"Doom? Daddy Doom?"

Suddenly, at the end of baby James's frightful response, Tony's blood turned to ice.

"What?"

"Tony, listen," Maya tried to intervene before the inventor blew up, but she was too late to react.

"Did he… did my son… MY son… just say: Daddy DOOM?"

"Maya," Pepper's eyes suddenly turned dark, Extremis practically having a physical response, threateningly swirling around her body, even if James was the only one that could see it amass. "Why… why is he… WHY IS MY SON CALLING THAT SON OF A–"

"Pepper!" Maya interrupted the redhead before she cursed in front of her son. "It's not what you think. It's not what it sounds like."

"Not what we f–" Tony held back his tongue as well and then swallowed hard. "How exactly is it NOT what it sounds like, Maya?"

"He doesn't mean it," Maya began, "Doom… he-he does want James to call him… like that… But James knows. James understands that Doom is not his father."

"Does he?" Tony snapped back.

"Yes. He does. Believe me: your child can see how people connect. He can tell when people are related to each other. And he knows that Doom and he have nothing in common. At all."

"Then why is he calling him that?!" Pepper snarled.

"Because Doom beat it into him," Maya replied. "And the only way to return the favor to Doom is to get it together and do what we need to do. Right now."

Both Tony and Pepper opened their mouths to release another angry retort, but they then snapped them shut almost immediately so, when Maya's words proved to be too true to deny. Tony still had to go around the castle to manually install disruptors directly onto the handful of electricity generators that would not be automatically affected by the shutdown of the power core; the redhead and the toddler still had to get to the playroom for any of the rest of their plans to take form; and Maya Hansen herself had to go find the second Earth Mover and ensure the self-destruct sequence had been set in place.

And this was all not counting the battle taking place above them. Or the Mainframe. Or finding Aldrich Killian. Or attempting to fight Doom, hand-to-hand.

They were not even 1% into their mission. There was no time to waste arguing about the audacity the ruler of Latveria had in believing he could just sweep into James Howard Stark's life and force him to call him: Dad.

"Let's go," Tony finally said, redirecting his anger to the most important matter at hand. "Let's… let's just get going."

"Are you ready, Jimmy?" Pepper eyed her son with confidence. "Are you ready to take me to the playroom?"

"Yup," the boy practiced using the new word he had just minutes ago learned from his mother before his eyes turned to his father's identical ones, staring back at him with feelings the child could also sense were coming from his mom.

Not a nanosecond later, the three of them hugged each other tightly, their eyes firmly closed to focus only on burning into their minds this epic moment unfolding before them. James was too young to know or even fathom what was crossing his parents' heads right now, but he knew enough to somewhat discern what this moment truly was.

Tony pulled away from the embrace long enough to deeply kiss his ginger despite knowing that his son was watching their every move. It was not as if the child had never seen his parents smash faces before, but he was now old enough to wonder and verbally question what was taking place between the two adults.

If everything went well and according to plan, there would be a time much later, after this war ended, to explain to his son the ways of the world.

"I'll see you upstairs, Pep," Tony held her face in his hands.

"I'll see you upstairs, Tony."

Pepper used her right hand to touch one of Tony's on her face. She then squeezed his hand tightly, locked eyes with him for an instant, and then nodded to let him know it was time to leave.

The genius' eyes landed on his son's and he smiled fondly at him before his face then turned serious as he ushered to his son one last command.

"Keep your mother safe. Protect her. Do you understand?"

As if wanting to show that he did, the little boy held onto his mother tighter and even narrowed his eyes before giving a resolute nod, his expression denoting nothing but serious business, and Tony could not tell if the boy looked more like Pepper or himself in that moment.

After one last glance towards his beloved family, Tony Stark vanished behind the mantle of Iron Man, and he then left the room, wishing in his heart that he would not later regret not saying goodbye.

Pepper closed her eyes after he was no longer visible, opening them again only when she felt Tony's aura was not on their floor anymore. Her gaze then shifted from staring at the door to look towards her son. She was surprised to see that the look of determination she had seen on the inventor many times before in situations like these was practically being mimicked on her son. He was not even two years of age, but he was already acting like the hero his father was.

"Maya, let's go."

Not needing to be told twice, Maya Hansen ran behind Pepper, both women stopping only when they reached the expected fork in the road. Tony had gone down the right side of the lab, while they had taken the left side of the same hall. Their destinations were going to be different, however, and now the brunette had to head to the right, and Pepper and James to the left.

The two former friends silently stared at one another and then gave each other a small, comforting smile. It was a far cry from an apology or a wish for good luck, but it was all they both could manage to do at this time.

Pepper was the first one to break eye contact with the woman and turned around in place. Before she could speed towards the starting point of the hidden route to the Power Core Room, Maya's hand on her arm made her stop.

"Pepper, wait."

"What?"

"I…" Maya exhaled nervously. The moment she had been waiting for had finally arrived.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Maya opened her mouth to reply to her, but the right words refused to come out. She was not even sure how to start the odd conversation – how to convince Pepper to trust her and follow her advice. It was a long shot. A near impossibility. But at the end the day, Whitney Stane could not carry out her mission if Maya Hansen did not carry out hers.

"Here," Maya suddenly said as she produced a self-injecting syringe from one of her pants' pockets. Pepper's suspicion of the purpose of the medical tool was written all over her face, and she made no attempt to grab the injection from her.

"Take it," Maya extended her arm even closer to the redhead. "You have to take this with you."

"What is–"

BOOM!

Everyone's heads snapped towards the origin of the loud explosion sound, to see that the Doombots that Pepper had sensed coming had finally arrived. They were coming from the direction of Maya's lab, and the ginger prayed that they had not found Tony on his way off of their current floor.

"Go!" Pepper told the brunette with every intention to begin running away from the incoming robots that had clearly already spotted them and had begun to attack from a distance, but Maya once again stopped her with her hand.

"No, Pepper. Take this. You… look. This… this is for Tony. You'll need it to help him if Doom takes control over him."

"What?" Pepper's voice sounded exactly like how irritated she was. "Maya, we don't have time to–"

"THEN SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" the botanist replied, startling the redhead into a brief moment of silence; a moment that proved to be enough for Maya Hansen to make her case.

"This will counter Doom's control over Tony," Maya grabbed Pepper's hand and placed the syringe within it. "This serum will reset and reprogram Tony's Extremis virus. It will have it come back in full capability, but without Doom's influence. The process of rebooting will make Tony unconscious while the virus is awakened again, giving you enough time to either strap Tony down or stop Doom before he tries to control Tony again."

"Are you crazy?" Pepper spat before she grabbed Maya by the shoulder, pulled her to her side of the hall and behind a wall, and then placed her son on the ground. A second later, she double-tapped the center of her backpack, changed into her superhero form, and then released a large blast from her repulsors and unibeam to hold back the incoming Doombots.

"Pepper, listen!" Maya pleaded. "This is the only way we can save Tony. If Doom realizes he can't control him after you use this on him, he will kill him. This is the only way I could figure out to buy us some time until we can stop Doom. If Doom controls Tony, we're screwed. And if he doesn't, then Tony dies. Do you understand that? Tony, your Tony, the father of your son, dies!"

"I won't let that happen."

"It will, no matter what you do, if you don't use this when Doom takes over Tony's Extremis."

"But I–"

Whatever Pepper was going to reply was interrupted by yet another loud explosion coming from down the hall. Knowing that time was running short, and seeing that Pepper was still holding the syringe in her hand, Maya ran towards her side of the hall, barely missing a laser attack.

"Maya!"

"Use it, Pepper!" the scientist screamed from her end of the hall, walking in reverse to make sure he got her point across. "When Tony loses it, use it! It's the only way to get him back!"

"But I don't trust you!" Pepper screamed back. "How do I know this is even what you say it is?"

"It's OK if you don't trust me. But, what do you have to lose?"

What did she have to lose? If Doom won – if Doom overtook Tony, she knew that the inventor would not want to live to be the man's puppet. She knew that Tony had made very clear his position on unwillingly becoming Doctor Doom's personal gestapo for world domination.

"That's… not the point, Pep."

"Then what is?"

"I… I couldn't activate the world's supply of nuclear weapons in the literal blink of an eye back then, when Basil controlled me. But now I can. I can destroy the world in a second, without anything to stop me from doing so."

"Tony, you won't… you…"

"Pepper," he grabbed onto her hands on his face. "I turned myself into the one thing I hate the most: a weapon. You know how I feel about weapons. You know what I'd like you to do to my weapons. Any weapon."

"Tony," she tried to smile but her lips trembled instead. "I'm not… decommissioning you, if that's what you're asking. Your Extremis may be… weaponized… but you're still you. You're still Tony. I'm not… you can't expect me to… to…"

"We talked about this, remember?"

"Tony–"

"We did. I know you remember."

Pepper closed her eyes and looked down.

"Things were different then, Tony. We thought I was dying. We thought we were up against S.H.I.E.L.D. only. We didn't know about Doom yet."

"Pepper…"

"No, Tony!" she snapped her eyes open. "Don't ask me to do this! I can't!"

"I know you can," he whispered to her and she closed her eyes again. She could not face him, not like this. He was breaking her resolve. She was going to give in to his request. She could feel it. She knew he was right. She knew what he was saying made sense. That did not mean she had to accept it.

"Don't let me hurt you. If Doom takes over me, don't let me hurt you."

"Tony–"

"Promise me."

"But, Tony…"

"Promise me, Pepper."

"I…" she hesitated. "I promise."

"On our son," he insisted. "Promise me on our son."

The redhead opened her eyes slowly, pulled away from his face and locked eyes with him. They remained quiet for an instant, and when her eyes dilated for a short nanosecond, it was obvious that she was reading him.

What she saw there, she did not like.

There was desperation – a crippling need for reassurance. He expected her to make good on her promise. He expected her to follow through with her mission, no matter what. He expected her to make the call, if it came to that.

What else could she have done, but to agree to it? How else would she have been able to calm his fears?

"I promise," she finally said with a nod. "I promise, on Jimmy."

Suddenly, somehow, the situation he had so deeply feared was no longer hypothetical. Somehow, it was now a lot more possible than either of them had ever wanted it to be. Maybe Maya Hansen was right. Or maybe she was wrong. Yet, at the end of the day, the redhead had a promise to keep to her blue-eyed boy. And she always kept her promises.

Always.

"Wait," suddenly, an important thought crossed the redhead's mind and her head snapped up to stare at the brunette standing several feet away from her. "How will I know if it works?"

"After ten seconds, you will know," Maya screamed again. "Just make sure that you–"

The rest of the botanist's response was muffled by the sound of the wall on her left falling down on her, courtesy of a massive attack coming from the Doombots. The young woman screeched as she attempted to jump away from the mountain of concrete crumbling between them, leaving Pepper unable to then and there determine if the scientist had made it safely to the other side of the blast. In turn, Rescue picked up her son, put up a barrier around them, gave her back to the blast, and then waited for the commotion to stop. Once it did, the result of the blast turned out to be somewhat of a blessing in disguise: the fork in the road was gone – and the Doombots were gone along with it… for now.

Pepper curiously and silently stared at the syringe in her hand one more time before putting it away in her suit, trusting that the time to use it never came. The heroine then took down the armor's force field and began flying towards the location of their mission, hoping against hope that she did not really need to know whatever disclaimer Maya Hansen was about to share with her before the wall had descended upon her.

It was just a syringe, after all. And her husband was Tony Stark.

A little tool like that just could never, ever, hope to take down Iron Man.

Right?

xxxXXXxxx

Doctor Doom stood atop the snowy precipice, staring at the five-member team climbing the rock face of the taller peak, across from the one he stood upon. His vision was zoomed in to be able to see them clearly despite the distance, and his hearing magnified to be able to easily make out what they were saying over the raging howls of the blizzard that was currently ravaging the Alps.

At this moment, they were all cursing the name of Tony Stark for assigning them this path to travel, and were laying claim to whom would be the first to kick his ass once they were in his presence again. Evidently, in spite of being a mere forty feet below a safer path that would allow them to continue on their way, and having survived this long under conditions that would have already meant the death of the most experienced mountain climbers in the world, the group had no shortage of complaints regarding their circumstances and progress.

"Aren't you going to deal with them?"

Doom did not bother to respond, nor did he even turn his head to the source of the inquiry. He knew who it was, just as he knew that any form of acknowledgement was meaningless.

"You know that it would be so easy to do, Victor."

This time, she stepped in front of him and he could not help but look down at her for a moment. Her face was looking up at his, an expression of compassion and understanding adorning her features, with the slightest underscore of mischievous thoughts hiding beneath the surface. Her violet eyes, gifted to her by the rare genetic condition, Alexandria's Genesis, burned with intense emotion that her face did not betray. Her strawberry blonde hair gleamed as if under rays of sunlight and rested calmly upon her shoulders, all in defiance of the storm.

His dear Valeria.

Oh, how cruel Doom knew the Fates to be. He knew it now like he never had before, and his previous knowledge had been intimate, to be sure. How he had longed to have his precious fiancée by his side once more; to see her face and hear her voice and feel her love. Well, he had certainly been granted his wish, though not at all like how he had thought.

He had first seen her again shortly after having been administered the strain of Extremis that Killian had developed to heal his body. Once the physical damage had been restored (though his original scars still remained), he had taken a few days to rest and recover his strength. Upon waking, he had found Valeria sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at him, waiting for him to wake up and see her.

He had known almost immediately that she was not real. Whatever Extremis had done to heal him, it had produced an unintended side-effect. That had been expected, to say the least, and the result was far less troublesome than it could have been. Somehow, his subconscious mind, his thoughts, his feelings and desires that he did not express even to himself, were manifesting in a visual and auditory representation of his long lost love.

Staring down at her now, Doom wanted so much to remove one of his gauntlets and reach out to touch her face with his bare hand. He knew that there was nothing there, and that even if he had felt her, it would have been his brain producing false signals to let him believe that he was feeling her warm flesh. It might almost have been worth it. But no; he would not succumb to that weakness. Not now. Not ever. He was way beyond that stage by now.

He lifted his eyes from hers and focused again on the group climbing the mountain in the distance, knowing and accepting the fact that the figment was never ever going to leave his side.

It had been one thing listening to her input. Knowing that he was actually listening to himself, his subconscious mind telling him things his waking mind was unaware of or not acknowledging, had proven to be very useful so far. It had been at the suggestion of this hallucinated woman that the mad doctor had moved his attack plans forward by several weeks.

Having known deep down that Maya Hansen had betrayed him, he had listened to his love's recommendation of launching his attack at a time when his enemies were not expecting it to come, and it had worked out exceedingly well. The rebellion's efforts, those coordinated by S.H.I.E.L.D. and those that were independent, had all been sloppily thrown together at best.

It had also been at Valeria's suggestion that he had struck again in waves, claiming more of the world as he went. Even the strategy of placing his own citizens inside some of his Doombot soldiers and dispersing them to guard his lands had come from her lips. They were all ideas that had been inside him and, under the right circumstances, he would have thought of them on his own. But with the apparition of the woman he loved manifesting before him, thanks to the effects of Extremis, he now had a unique window into his inner thoughts that had not been present before. The fact that said window took the form he was most likely to appreciate was certainly a plus.

He felt her place her hands upon his shoulders and he looked back down at her. Her expression now was one of encouragement, as she knew what he was thinking of doing. Even this action was intended to further motivate him to act. Being even closer to him now, he noted the only physical feature that she shared with the annoying redhead across the way; the light smattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

Beyond that one trait, Valeria bared no resemblance to Pepper Potts-Stark. Their personalities were so alike, however, that it had led him to develop a personal resentment toward the ginger for continuing to live and bring happiness to Iron Man's life, while Doom himself had to make do with an illusion.

Knowing his rage was beginning to boil again, Valeria smirked and moved her hands to the sides of his helmet, holding his armored face. He could feel the warmth from them, regardless of their lack of substance.

"Just remember: she needs to live long enough to make it to the castle. She has to die in front of Tony in order to truly break him. You'll never be able to permanently dominate his mind otherwise. He needs to fail her. So don't go too far, this time. Making him think she's gone is good enough for now."

With that, she gave him a smile of pure love, though her eyes still held a note of vicious encouragement. She then pressed her lips against the mouth slit of his faceplate. To his annoyance, Doom could not resist letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment. Once he reminded himself that he was basically daydreaming about kissing a disguised version of his own mind, his eyes snapped open and Valeria was gone once again.

Focusing once more on the group in the distance, Doom raised his hand and sent forth a little illusion of his own. Sending out very subtle, undetectable sonic emissions with pinpoint accuracy, the tyrant was essentially poking at the ear drums of Pepper Potts-Stark, intending to disorient her enough that the result would be to bring the group's travels to a sudden and tragic end.

As he watched, the redheaded seemed to stumble in her climb. One of her legs reacted as if she had missed a step, although she had in fact placed her foot properly upon a sturdy foothold. The group had a momentary panic as it appeared that the ginger would fall. However, the X-Man known as Iceman quickly froze one of her hands to the rock face, preventing her fall.

The young woman's confusion was evident afterward, but the group continued on until they were all safely upon the walking trail above where they had been. Doom took to the air and followed along while maintaining his same distance from them, looking for another opportunity to shake things up. In fact, that gave him a good idea in and of itself. He only needed to make sure Pepper survived and made it to Latveria; the rest were of no concern to him and could die here, today. And now he had an idea how to go about it.

He directed his sonic emitters at the snow-covered mountain top above them, increasing their intensity. He watched the travelers as he did so, and noted that Potts seemed to grow uncomfortable again, judging by her face. Her heightened sensitivity caused by her own Extremis strain must have allowed her to still sense the waves he was putting out, even though they were not directed at her.

After a few more moments, the snow above the group began to move, sliding slowly at first and then gaining momentum the more it picked up along its path. His targets panicked as he expected, with the Black Widow even screaming out a warning, before activating devices that immediately anchored them to the mountain side. The snow did, however, hit both Pepper and Iceman head on, knocking both of them off of the narrow pathway and taking them along the ride into the abyss below.

Doom smirked in satisfaction over this. He knew that the girl would survive. He had learned about the unique features of her Extremis from the data he had collected from her. In addition to that, the mutant with her was the perfect individual to protect her from suffering too much damage while in a situation such as this. He was certain he would see the two of them again.

He returned his attention to the other three who remained on the mountain path; Maya Hansen, the Black Widow, and the mutant known as Nightcrawler. He could finish them off now, certainly. He could kill them in any way he liked; he could even open a portal and fling them inside, and let them spend eternity in the company of the screaming souls forever condemned in Yogthulu's realm. However, he felt that his plans would best be served if they were allowed to continue on their way without further obstruction. Yes, he would allow them to reach their rendezvous with Stark and inform him of what had happened here. He would certainly be dismayed upon hearing the news, and would begin to question himself the longer it took for his wife to return to him. His doubts and feelings of inadequacy would grow, and when the time came to kill the redhead for good, all would fall into place quite nicely.

"Well done," Valeria whispered into his ear from her new location; riding upon his back, her arms wrapped around his neck to give the illusion of needing his presence to remain in the air. It did not matter to him. Nor did it matter whether he interpreted this praise as coming from his dead love or from his own mind. He was pleased with the acknowledgement either way.

xxxXXXxxx

He could not hear the pitiful, muffled battle cries of the insolent fools as they attempted to reach the level of the fortress where his throne room lay – all in the hopes that they could somehow break into it and stop him and his tactics – but he was aware enough to realize that they were well on their way here. They would be here any moment now, busting through the doors and demanding that he put a stop to his plans, as if they knew better than he about what the world really needed. About what society-as-a-whole needed.

Freedom. Right to choose. Free will. Democracy. They were nothing more than childish fallacies, he knew. Yet, almost every other wretched human being he had come across in his entire life believed these made-up concepts to be the absolute foundation for any worthy civilization around the planet.

Fools. They were all fools. Fools who had done exactly as he had expected of them. Fools who were about to walk into their own final resting place, while all he had had to do to get them where he wanted them was to sit on his throne and wait.

The treacherous woman he had begrudgingly held in his castle on Killian's recommendation had clearly provided them with the blueprints to his home and his entire land, making them believe they had the upper hand. He could not wait to see the looks on their faces; hear the desperation in their voices; witness the swift realization of defeat that would befall them once they joined him in his chamber. It would all be too amusing. Too humorous. Too predictable. Too close to what he had foreseen.

In that regard, the upcoming battle sounded almost pointless and boring to him, even before it started, but he knew it needed to be done this way. Stark was already on the premises, wandering alone around the basement area of his complex, searching for something Doom cared not to investigate. Whatever it was, it would fail, just as all of anyone's attempts at stopping him had failed. If he wanted to, he could have killed them all, in the blink of an eye, the moment they had set foot on his land. But he needed the insufferable inventor and the stubborn redhead to join their pathetic army of wannabe heroes for the last part of his plan to work.

The Mainframe would finally be fully functional, once he took over Tony Stark's fragile mind.

Victor von Doom knew his untraceable rays were already getting the better of the young billionaire, forcing onto him an augmented reality that was being successful in slowing him down; in making him question what he saw, what he felt, and what he had to do. This was just the preview; the opening act, and the infuriating youngster was already well on his path to losing the advantage they all thought he undeniably had.

Doctor Doom smirked at the absurdity of the beliefs held by his enemies. To think that an offensive attack in the open as a means to try to distract him from realizing the true location of the Starks granted them any gain over his carefully concocted plans was laughable. Even the small child knew better than that. He had been smart enough to hide in the botanist's abandoned lab. He had been smart enough to stay out of Doom's way for now.

But what of the adults on site? Had they had an ounce of the same sense the young boy had displayed at his tender age?

No. Of course not!

They had all madly scrambled inside his castle; loudly, stupidly, and even disrespectfully, as if they had any right to be here in the first place. Had they not seen what he had done to those who had tried to stop his ruling before? Had the sight of decimated cities, destroyed landmarks, and people working for him against their will not been enough to warn them of what the future would bring? Were they all really that dense?

Or were they simply dumb enough to hope that, somehow, the universe would endorse their cause more than it would endorse his own?

The monarch of Latveria had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the thought. The idea of a higher-life form rooting for their cause as a reason for their lousy actions was nothing but moronic. Though, it was not as idiotic as the belief that there was something or someone, out there in the vast universe, that gave a damn about anything else in this world.

About them.

And about whether or not they lost their lives at his hand.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The tyrant turned to his left, staring into the eyes of his beloved, who stood next to his throne.

"Don't worry, Victor. I'm leaving now. I won't distract you during this battle," she began to back away, moving behind his throne, where he knew her apparition would simply vanish. "Make them feel your might, Doom."

Doctor Doom's eyes aimed towards the metal doors on the other side of the room and he smiled in condescension behind his mask.

Yes.

They were almost finally here.

Almost finally here to die.

xxxXXXxxx

Aldrich Killian knew a thing or two about sneaking around. Being sneaky and subtle were practically his specialties. Getting into the hospital after hours, avoiding security and nurses alike, and making his way to the nursery located in the Maternity Ward, had all been fairly easy. He had prepared for this day, and the visits that he and his young belle had made to this institution of health had allowed him to make note of the schedules of the staff, as well as the locations of security cameras, places to hide, and parts of the environment he could use to cause distractions and lure potential witnesses away.

He knew Jill was in a room down the hall from where he was now; getting some well-earned sleep following the ordeal she had been through in the birthing process – one that had been highly more complicated than any of the ones the doctors around here had ever seen in their entire medicine-practicing lives. The poor, tired girl did not know he was here, and neither did anyone else. Indeed, he had not even been present in the hospital during her labor. He had instructed her to answer any questions about where the father was by saying that she simply did not know. He did not want there to be any record of his having been in the hospital at all today, just in case things did not go as he hoped.

As he stepped into the nursery and quietly closed the door behind him, he practically shook with anticipation and excitement. The moment of truth was upon him, and while it would likely not be the final step in what he needed to do to cure himself, it would still be the largest hurdle that was finally cleared if he had succeeded today. As he looked around the room, he saw two dozen infants sleeping in their incubators, none of them awakened by his entrance, although a few were fidgeting a little. As was traditional for simplifying identification, the male infants were draped in blue blankets and the females were given pink.

Killian began moving among the incubators, focusing only on the pink-covered infants, knowing that his latest child was female. His latest, and yet the only one to survive; the only one that had not died in the womb or moments after birth. The mixture of the secondary-reaction strain of Extremis he had injected into Jill eleven months ago, and all of the various strains that had merged with his DNA and been carried along in the process of fertilization, had not caused any complications for the baby she had carried to term. This was literally uncharted territory, even for him.

After looking over the name tags on the incubators for about a minute, he finally found what he was looking for. Inside the little transparent box lied a pink-skinned baby covered by a pink blanket that she had somehow managed to mostly kick off of herself. The name tag hanging off the side read: Virginia Hayes. Seeing the name gave him a new surge of excitement; it was the name he and Jill had decided on when they had learned that they were having a girl. He had told her, and truthfully at that, that her last name sounded prettier with the first name she wanted to give her daughter. Virginia Killian certainly did not have a nice ring to it, but he felt no impact to his ego in that fact.

He leaned over, getting a much closer look at the child's sleeping face. She had the typical scrunched-up face of a newborn, though not quite as harshly. She was cuter than most babies were immediately after birth, and he suspected that she would be almost radiant in the days ahead, as her features softened. He noted that she had a thin layer of dark hair that showed signs of redness, and he had a feeling that it would bloom into full-on red with a little bit of time as well. Yes, she would definitely end up getting her mother's hair.

Seeing that she was deep asleep, and knowing how to use a needle to such a degree that almost no discomfort would be felt, Killian withdrew the syringe from his pocket, plunged it into the yielding and unmarked infant flesh at the crook of the elbow, minimizing any noticeable puncture. The baby girl fidgeted a little, but then settled into whatever passed for dreams in the incomplete brain of an infant. Killian withdrew as much blood as he knew he could safely do, while still acquiring enough for a proper analysis.

As he removed the needle and placed it into a baggie and then back into his pocket, he took a moment to look the girl over again. She was his daughter. That fact was amazing by itself. He had impregnated many women over the years as part of his efforts, but this was the only time that the child had survived. This sleeping baby in front of him was a successful reproduction of his bloodline. That alone was enough to be proud of, and Killian found himself smiling an honest smile that had nothing to do with the hopes of his research in curing himself. He smiled, for the only time he ever would in his life, as a man with the realization that he was undeniably a father.

He pulled the blanket up to cover her fully once more, and then lightly stroked the top of her head, running his fingers through the thin hair. He then quietly exited the nursery, making his way out of the hospital and back to his lab. He had a long night ahead of him, as he would need to make several tests and checks of the girl's blood, all while making sure that Jill's blood, which still circulated in the infant's veins, did not influence the results. He had already set up his equipment to ignore any readings of Jill's blood, samples of which he had exposed it to in order for it to be identified, but he would still need to be very careful when reading the results. It would likely be very early morning before he was done, and if all went well, it would be the morning of the most joyful day he had had in a long time.

But it was not to be.

After finally getting back the results of the blood test, then rechecking it, then rerunning the test several times and checking it again, Killian was in a rage and began throwing his equipment across his lab in a fit over what the data was telling him. It should have been impossible from everything he knew, but it did provide an explanation as to why the girl had survived birth.

According to the blood test results, his daughter did not have so much as a single virion of Extremis, either in nanoprobe form or otherwise.

Somehow, in spite of his sperm carrying a version of every strain he had ever injected himself with, Jill's ova carrying the strain he had injected into her, and nine months of having Jill's blood and bodily fluids being supplied to the baby throughout the entire developmental process, none of these various versions of the virus had carried over, much less combined into a new, natural-birth strain as he had desired!

It was the ultimate fake out; the girl had made it through birth as he had wanted, but she was completely useless to him! It would have been better if she had died. At least then, he would have known right away that he had failed again, instead of being imbued with false hope. His earlier feelings of pride and satisfaction about having a daughter at all were completely gone now, his disappointment in yet another, more infuriating failure wiping them away like an eraser over a chalkboard.

To think that, as he had awaited the results, he had indulged in fantasies of taking his new little bundle of joy to work with him at Stark Tower, showing her off to his colleagues, even introducing her to the one that got away – good old Maria.

She had rejected him years ago, and although in his bitterness he had secretly injected her with a low-level version of Extremis to save for later, he had gotten over it and was happy for her, having married Howard Stark. It did not bother him that he basically reported to the husband of the woman he had desired. She had even brought her son into the tower last month to show off, and of course everyone had wanted to meet the little two-month-old heir of Stark International. Killian had envisioned bringing little Virginia in to work the next time Maria brought Tony around; it would have been interesting to show them off to one another and compare.

But, all of that meant nothing now. He would have to start again. The whole process he would need to do, yet again. And that meant he would need another specimen. It seemed that young Jill's time in his life was over. It was a bit disappointing that it needed to be done, and to one so young. The only reasons why he had gotten involved with a teenaged girl six years younger than he physically was – and claimed himself to be on paper – was in the hope that a younger woman could carry an Extremis child to term, and survive herself as well. Maybe he would try with another teenager afterward, but for Jill Hayes, it was time to sever the connection.

That afternoon, he went to the hospital, not bothering to hide his presence this time, and went to Jill's room to check up on her. He closed the door so that the two could be alone, sat down next to her bed, and proceeded to have a talk with her. As he did so, he switched on a small device in his pocket that emitted a signal meant to influence the version of Extremis in Jill's body; specifically to the point of heightening certain emotions and susceptibility to suggestion.

He told her how what they had was not going to work long-term, and that the time had come for them to split up. He recommended that she go back to living with her mother, whom had kicked her out after finding out she had become involved with an adult man, and he would help her move out of his place, where he had allowed her to stay ever since. He confessed that he did not think either of them could responsibly take care of a baby at this point in their lives, and that she should give their daughter up for adoption. He advised that it would be best for their child to have a fresh start, and that she should sign an agreement with the adoption agency that whoever chose to adopt the girl could legally change her name, with a recommendation that it should be done.

Jill had listened to all of this, and had slowly agreed with everything he said, thanks to the influence he was putting her under. She expressed great sadness, but maintained her composure. He then took his leave of her, knowing that the effects of the emotional changes would slowly grow to the breaking point over time, subtly removing her from the equation and erasing the only tie between the baby and himself.

The following day, Jill requested to speak with a representative of an adoption agency, to whom she expressed her concerns of not being a responsible parent, young as she was, and how she wanted to give her baby up. She signed a form to allow the legal change of the baby's name once prospective parents were found and signed their names as well; her presence at the time of their signing would not be needed for it to be legitimate. When she made it clear that she would not be taking the baby home with her upon her release, the agency made the arrangements to take the infant into their care immediately.

After she was released, Killian stayed true to his word and helped the girl pack. The redhead was quiet, morose, on the verge of tears the whole time, but did not say anything to indicate that she resented him for her situation. He had truly convinced her that this was for the best, and she had been told that the sadness she felt was something commonly felt by mothers after giving birth. Although convinced that it was the right thing to do, giving up her child had only heightened the guilt and emptiness that she felt.

Once she had moved back with her mother, Killian ceased all communication with Jill, but still kept tabs on her from afar. He knew that as the weeks rolled by, she would soon succumb to his machinations, and he kept watch for when it would happen. That day finally came four months later, six days after she had turned sixteen years old. A brief news report one evening revealed that Jill Hayes, a distraught girl fighting with a severe case of post-partum depression, had committed suicide by taking her mother's pistol and shooting herself in the head.

Killian had given her a moment of silence as a way of paying his respects, and then put the whole thing behind him. He had also been keeping tabs on the orphanage where his daughter had been taken, wanting to know when that particular thread was severed as well. Two months after Jill's death, he learned that a couple had been selected, a background check cleared, and that the baby had been successfully adopted. He had thought at first about finding out who had taken her, but decided against it. What would be the point? He had made sure the girl was given up so that he would cut the connection without having to raise suspicions of both a healthy mother and daughter dying and questions being asked that would lead to him.

In the end, Aldrich Killian decided to just let it go, convinced that he would never see or hear from, or about, his biological daughter again.

Destiny, however, had other plans for him.

---

A/N: Raise your hand if you liked the reunion of the family? FINALLY! Now, raise your hand if you're playing Pokemon Go? And now, raise your hand if you worked for 46 hours straight to meet a deadline? Wondering why I haven't updated this story? My hand is still raised after asking these three questions ;) I can't blame Pokemon Go, though; half the time, the servers are down. Hope you like it! We are now all caught up and in the final stretch! No more flashbacks from now on!