Chapter Four:
Tyron was beginning to feel the effects of getting rusty quickly. He had managed to last quite a while. Or at least he believed he did, he didn't keep track of the time.
In Tyron's haze-filled brain, he decided to go back to his bench. Maybe he could sleep underneath it. Baron wouldn't be looking under benches, so he should be fine.
The streets didn't seem to crowded, and all the people walking by him began to blur past, their face unrecognizable. Were they going home? Maybe they were as tired as he was. He was really tired. A quick nap would help keep him awake. Tyron's eyes sank closed his body sagging. He was almost completely asleep until he bumped shoulders with someone.
Tyron snapped up, and began walking again, his shoulders tense. He couldn't go to sleep. He couldn't go to sleep. Baron would find him and kill him. Tyron continued to walk, gaining a small bit of speed now, but he quickly lost his boost, and was sluggishly dragging himself.
He couldn't do it. He was too tired, too hungry. He needed to sleep. Tyron's eyes closed and he fainted in the middle of the sidewalk.
- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -
Steve ran against the masses of people that were walking down the sidewalk. His eyes darting back and forth for any sign of Tyron, but finding none of the sort. A small negative part of his brain nagged that he was already long gone and there was nothing he could do for him, but Steve ignored it. He was an Avenger, a hero, meaning he helped everyone, including people like Tyron.
Steve heard shouting and whipped his head around. On the other side of the street, there was a woman freaking out, and a person lying on the ground. After a bit of inspection, Steve recognized the black hoodie.
Steve bolted across the street, trying desperately not to get hit by a speeding car, as he came up to him. There was a crowd gathering around him now, but Steve pushed past them. "I have medical training!" He lied as the crow parted. Some of them noticed him being Captain America and pulled out their phones, but everyone else was pretty focused on Tyron.
Steve check for a pulse, and felt relieved to find one. Then, he placed an ear to his chest, he was breathing shallowly, but still alive. Steve scooped the boy up, slightly surprised at how light he was, and pulled out his phone. He called Tony as he ran.
The scientist picked up on the second ring, "Hey Capsicle. It's been a while," Tony mused.
"Where are you?" Steve demanded as he ran down the street.
"The Tower. Pepper's making me do some boring paperwork," Tony said, with a childish groan.
"Tell Banner to get the infirmary ready," He told the man on the other end.
"Why? Is something interesting happening?"
"Just do it!" Steve snapped, hanging up the phone and running faster. He glanced down at Tyron, who's face was scrunched up in pain. He silently promised to make sure he would get Tyron got the help he needed before racing towards the Tower.
- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -
The first thing Tyron noticed when he woke up was how warm he was. It shocked him a bit when he realized how long it had been since he had actually felt warm. Sighing in content, he sank into the blankets that surrounded him, not wanting to wake up.
Soon, however, the sound of repetitive beeping annoyed him to no end and he peeked his eyes open, irritably. Tyron squinted as his eyes adjusted to the lights, and examined the room. The room was rather spacious and held a lot of huge metal equipment that he didn't recognize. However, the sight of metal made his mouth water, but he resisted, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The room smelled of sterilization fluids and cough syrup, which he thought was a bit strange, but didn't argue with it. It was also strangely silent, excluding the whirring of the machines and the continuous beeping of the heart rate monitor.
Tyron looked down at his hands, noticing that they had been properly bandaged. He could even feel a bandage on his cheek where Baron punched him. And, he was missing his sweatshirt. Tyron almost began to panic, but he sagged with relief when he felt the bandages on his chest still in place.
Tyron heard the door open, and then a man stepped out. He had brown hair that was styled nicely and matching eyes. He had a cleanly shaven mustache and a triangular goatee underneath. He wore a simple Star Wars t-shirt that described the different parts of the Death Star, and jeans. It didn't take a genius to know who this man was. His face was plastered on every electronic billboard in the city.
Tony Stark's thin lips were pulled into a smirk as he began to talk, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty."
Tyron glared at him, sitting up. He could feel the dull pain in his ribs still and was surprised they hadn't fixed that yet. "Where the hell am I?"
Stark rose an eyebrow at his hostility, probably not expecting that reaction. "Relax. You're in the Avengers Tower. Steve brought you in while you were unconscious. He's waiting to see you, actually—"
"I don't wanna see 'im!" He snapped, "I don't wanna see no one!"
"Well that's not an option," Stark replied, crossing his arms. "If you're gonna be crabby like that then I won't bring him in. But," he moved to open the door and a cart of food that was being pushed by one of his signature metal suits came in. Tyron's eyes widened and his heart leapt. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he stared at the suit.
"You like it? One of my originals," Stark boasted proudly. The suit stood beside his bed, and set a tray down on his lap. Then, it took off the metal lids, revealing steaming hot food. Tyron reeled, his eyes narrowing, but Stark didn't seem to notice since he was too busy talking about his suit.
The tray had a few metal utensils, but that was it. Tyron's stomach growled, and he couldn't help a sigh, and looked at the suit, which was now pushing the cart out of the room. "... Anyways," Stark finally said, smirking at him. "Doc says that you need to eat all of that before he comes back in the check on you. If you need anything, just ask JARVIS. See ya, kid," Tony turned on his heel and left the room.
Tyron stared at the food, getting the sudden urge to simply throw it all at the wall, but he controlled himself. Tyron picked up the fork, inspecting it, before gnawing on it slowly. He didn't know if they had cameras in here, and with so much tension towards mutants and humans, he didn't want to be turned in either. His stomach rumbled so painfully, that Tyron winced. He sat back and sighed, trying to think of a plan to escape.
- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -
An hour or so later, Stark returned, but this time he brought a buddy. Tyron couldn't help but feel tense. If there were two of them, they easily outnumbered him and could hurt him more. Besides, Stark had his suits, so technically, he could out number him at any moment, if he wanted to.
Stark's friend introduced himself as 'Doctor Bruce Banner'. It took him a second to recognize the name. "You're the guy 'at trashed 'Arlem," Tyron finally said, and Bruce winced.
"Yeah, uh... Sorry about that..." He muttered, pulling his equipment beside Tyron. He shrugged, not wanting to tell him that during that time, he had been homeless and almost died. It didn't seem like the right time. "Anyways, I just want to check your hands, and make sure they're healing properly," Bruce told him, and Tyron gave him a wary nod.
As Bruce undid the bandages on his hand, Tony spoke up. "You didn't even touch your food," He noted, pointing a finger at the now cold eggs, sausages, and bacon.
"Wasn't 'ungry," Tyron replied.
Bruce gave him a look, "You need to eat something," he scolded.
Tyron sucked his teeth and turned away, "Iwasn't 'ungry."
"What? Are you anorexic or something?" Tony asked, his tone joking, but Bruce sent him an angry glare.
"That's not something to joke about, Tony," he told him firmly. "Anorexia is a serious mental disorder."
"It was just a question!" Tony defended, and Tyron sent him a glare.
"It was a stupid one," he muttered.
"That doesn't explain why you're not eating anything," Tony replied, turning the argument back on Tyron.
"M'not 'ungry," Tyron told them firmly.
"Even if you weren't feeling hungry, you still look a bit malnourished," Bruce told him, rewrapping his hand. "You need to eat something."
"No," Tyron told him, now annoyed.
"Why not?"
"Because I can't."
"Can't what?" Tony scoffed, "Can't eat?"
"Yes!" He covered his face with his newly bandaged hand, and let out a small sigh. "... I don't want to eat right now." He told them, as somewhat of an apology for raising his voice.
Bruce and Tony exchanged looks, "Fine," Tony replied. "Won't make you eat." He tapped something on his watch, and the metal suit came in again. Tyron tried not to react as the robotic suit came to take the tray away, but as it got closer, he couldn't help staring at it. Then, his stomach rumbled loud enough for both adults to hear, and Tony barked a laugh.
"Knew you were hungry," He smirked, and commanded the suit to wheel the cart back towards him, and even set it on the bed he laid in. It's shiny cold arm brushed against his hand and Tyron had to force himself to look away.
"M'not 'ungry," he snapped, glaring at the floor. Tony huffs an annoyed sigh, and has the suit pick up the tray and put it back on the pushcart. Again, it's arm touches Tyron and his stomach rumbled again. Tensing, he focused on the folds of his blankets, trying not to make eye contact. Yet, he couldn't help sneaking a glance at the metal suit that was packed with so many delicious layers of metal. He couldn't help but wonder if the paint made the suit taste spicier, or sweeter. The thought of a spicy, clean strip of metal made him physically drool.
Tony and Bruce stared at the teenager, who didn't seem to notice. Finally, the metal suit left, and Tyron tore his eyes away and stared at the bed again, slowly exhaling. "I'll... Be right back," Bruce announced, and walked out of the room.
A minute later, he came back with a butterknife in his hand. He tossed it towards Tyron, landing in his lap. Tyron picked it up and looking at Bruce, slightly confused. "You're hungry, right?"
"What is he supposed to eat with a butterknife?" Tony asked with a scoff. After a few moments of hesitation, Tyron sighed and easily ate the sterling silver knife. "Holy shit!" Tony exclaimed, staring at Tyron as he finished.
"When I took a blood sample earlier, I saw that you had extremely high levels of iron. High enough that you shouldn't even be alive," Bruce chuckled, "Eating metal explains it."
"Dude!" Tony said, still in shock, "How are you even able to digest that!? You should be dead."
Tyron shrugged, feeling his ears warm up from embarrassment, "I dunno. I just found out tha' I could one day."
"Why can't you eat food then?" Tony asked, frowning slightly.
"Makes me sick," he admitted sheepishly.
"God..." Tony muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Talk about having an iron stomach." The room was silent for a second, and Tyron sniggered.
"Idiot," Bruce muttered, rolling his eyes.
"You have to admit that was funny," Tony said with a stupid grin, poking at Bruce. "Just say it."
"I'm not because it wasn't," Bruce told him, annoyed.
"Don't be a hardass," Tony pouted, "Metalhead already got that covered."
"'Metalhead'?" Tyron repeated with an air of distaste.
"For the time being," Tony replied with a coy grin.
"Getting back on track," Bruce spoke, sending a pointed look towards Stark. "Tony can bring you something that you can eat. Make sure you eat all of it too. Tomorrow, we can discuss where we wanna go from here." Tyron gave a slight nod, happy at the prospect of finally getting something to eat.
Bruce and Tony said their goodbyes and left the room. Minutes later, a cart full of scrap metal rolled in, and pushed by the same suit. Tyron stared hungrily at it and didn't hesitate to dig in as soon as the cart stopped. In no less than ten minutes, Tyron was feeling more full than he had felt in his life.
He sighed in content, leaning back in his bed. He still hadn't fully recovered from his 'rustiness', and decided to close his eyes and sleep.