Chapter Five:
His wrists and ankles were strapped helplessly to the corners of the bed. Tyron struggled against them, pulling and yanking, but it hardly helped.
The door opened, and two men stepped in, one a stranger, the other Baron. "She's a bit of a wild one, but give 'er a few pounds and she'll settle down. Keep anything that's metal away from 'er, if ya wanna keep ya dick to yourself," Baron instructed, a cigarette bouncing between his teeth. The other man laughed at his last statement, somehow finding that funny. "Ya got four hours."
The other man grinned, his teeth white and straight, yet it made him seem like some kind of shark. Tyron's chest heaved and he glared at the man, "S'all I need," the stranger said, and Baron took that as his notice to leave, and closed the door behind him.
Tyron stared at the man, as he slowly unclothed himself in front of him. A sick feeling formed in his gut and he forced his eyes closed as the man climbed over him, his stale breath intoxicating the air as he leaned down to his ear. "Scream nice 'nd loud for me, m'kay?" He breathed, sending shivers down Tyron's spine.
He tried to jerk his head away from the man, but he only grabbed his chin, and promptly backhanded him. Tyron winced, it wasn't as hard as it should have been if he wore any metal rings, but it still hurt. Then, the man moved downward, spreading his legs, and Tyron's heart began to pound, "Please," he managed to croak, his entire body trembling. "Please, don't do this."
His begging was only met with laughter, the kind that haunted your dreams for years on end. The kind that you would hear whenever you closed your eyes. The kind that Tyron would never be able to forget.
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Tyron woke up gasping, his heart attempting to beat out of his chest. He felt goosebumps running down his arms and tried to calm himself down. He covered his head, breathing labouredly. Tyron could remember him screaming in his dream, begging for mercy that never came. His cries echoed in his mind, and strangely the silence surrounding him seemed to be very loud.
Tyron kicked out of the covers, peeling off the sticky patches on his arms that were hooked to the machines. He spotted his hoodie on one of the chairs and snatched it as he walked out of the room. "I advise you stay in bed, Mr. Tyron," a disembodied voice spoke as he slipped on the hoodie, and Tyron nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked around, but found no owner of said voice. "I am the building's AI, JARVIS. Master Stark has given me orders to keep you in bed."
"... What's an AI?" He finally asked the invisible voice, still glancing around the halls and the room before him for someone who could have been operating 'JARVIS'.
"AI stands for Artificial Intelligence. As I was saying, I advise you to go back to theinfirmary. If you were in need of medical assistance, I could contact Master Stark or Doctor Banner," JARVIS suggested, but Tyron shook his head.
"Na... Nah, I jus', uhm, jus' wanted to stretch m'legs some," Tyron replied hesitantly. "'Ere anywhere I can go to grab somethin' to eat?"
There was a pause, before JARVIS replied, "The Tower's Workshop is down this hall, would you like me to guide you?" Tyron nodded, and a small, red blinking light appeared over the top of the door way. Tyron followed it, and then another one appeared across the room.
As Tyron followed the blinking lights, he spoke, "Uh, JARVIS?"
"Yes, Mr. Tyron?" The AI responded.
"What time's it?"
"It is currently 2: 25 AM."
"Oh," he hadn't expected it to be so early in the morning. "Am–Am I the only one up?"
"Master Stark is currently working in the Workshop." Tyron arrived at a door where there was a green blinking light ahead, and he stopped walking. The doors were glass and clearly showed that inside there were tables full of scrap metal. Near the side of the room sat Tony Stark. He was bent over a desk, working under the light of a night lamp.
Tyron softly thanked the AI, and entered the Workshop, and slowly walked towards Stark. As he got closer, he could hear the man muttering something to himself. "... It's not fitting. Why aren't you fitting? Do you really want me to have a bad morning...? Stop being a bitch and—yay! Finally..."
Tyron sat on a free swivel chair behind him, picking up a thin strip of metal as long as a full-size slim-jim bar. He began to tear pieces off and chewing on it. He stared at Stark, comfortable with the environment around him, for once.
Then, Tony turned around, in order to grab a tool, and noticed Tyron in the same notion. "Holy—" Tony jumped back, his chair hitting the desk, causing something else to fall on the other end. Tyron stood too, accidentally absorbing the metal he was eating. When he noticed it was gone, he swore.
Tony leaned over the table, trying to stop his rapidly beating heart, "M'sorry," Tyron apologized sheepishly, "I–I, uhm, woke up, and your... JARVIS told me I could come 'ere..."
"You're fine," Tony finally said, chuckling under his breath. "Just scared me, that's all."
"Oh... Sorry," Tyron bit the inside of his lip, his eyes trailing to the floor. He spotted the screwdriver, and walked over to pick it up.
"Why are you in here? Did something happen?" Tony asked, as Tyron handed the screwdriver to the man.
"Nah, just couldn't go back to sleep," Tyron shrugged. "What are ya workin' on?" He stepped closer to the table, peering at the red metal hand that was upside-down and had tons of wires and cords sticking out. Tyron wanted to touch it, but didn't trust himself not to absorb it.
"The glove for my suit," Tony replied, checking the screwdriver. It was bent on the end and he swore. "Can't use this anymore..."
"I could help," Tyron suggested. He used the metal he absorbed from the strip he had earlier and turned his not broken finger into the screwdriver.
Tony stared at his hand, not saying a word for several minutes, "Tyron?"
"Yeah...?"
"Your finger just turned into a screwdriver."
"Yeah, I did that. I wanted to 'elp."
"Oh, good," he breathed, and chuckled nervously. "Thought I had finally began to hallucinate from being up so long," he laughed.
Tyron laughed, "Can I 'elp?"
"Sure," Tony stood, and Tyron sat in the seat, looking at the places where the screws should go. He got a rag and laid it on the rest of the hand so he didn't touch it an accidentally absorb it. Tyron picked up one, and began to work.
"So, how exactly did you... Faint in the middle of New York City?" Tony asked, watching as Tyron worked.
"I... Got too rusty..."
"You what?"
"Rusty, from the rain," he explained, "If it's too much, like it was, then it makes me real sick, like I was. Add tha' to the fact tha' I hadn't eaten anythin' in, like, a week."
"Damn," Tony murmured. "Don't you have family or somewhere you can go to?"
Tyron pressed his lips together, "What's wrong with ya hand?"
Tony rose an eyebrow, "It's for my suit. There was... A glitch in it, to put it in simple terms." Tyron nodded, "Do you have anywhere you can go?"
"Yeah. Why are ya up so late?"
"Insomnia. I don't sleep well anyway. What did you do before Cap found you?"
"I... Worked for an... Organization," Tyron said carefully as he put in another screw.
"Oh. Are you still working there?"
"No. I esca—quit. I quit a few days ago. I... Didn't like the boss."
"How'd you end up in that condition?"
"They... Don't like it when people try to... Uhm, quit. Roughed me up a bit, but m'fine now."
Tony ruffled his eyebrows, concerned, "What kind of business was it?"
Tyron paused for a second, before speaking again, "What kind of metal is this? I've never seen it before, an' it smells real good."
Tony narrowed his eyes at how he dodged his question, but decided to go along anyway, "Titanium. Would've went for vibranium, but that's pretty hard to get your hands on nowadays." Tyron nodded, but didn't have a clue what vibranium was. "Are... You in trouble, Tyron?"
He looked at the ground and inhaled, "Nah... I cut things off." Tony didn't reply, so Tyron spoke again, "M'done." He announced, as he stood from the seat.
Tony grinned at him, "Thanks kid."
"Don't mention it," Tyron managed to smirk. "Seriously, don't."
"And why's that?"
"Ya know what they do to mutants. Ya get arrested. If ya black, then ya get arrested, then shot, in tha' order." Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not going to let you get shot, Mr. Iron Giant."
Tyron rose an confused eyebrow, "'Iron Giant'?"
"You haven't seen that movie?"
"Tha's a movie?" Tony gasped, as if Tyron had just blasphemed.
"We'll watch the movie, then you'll understand." Tyron chuckled, and pulled up a chair to sit.
"Is it good?"
"It'll make you cry."
"I don't cry."
"Then, it'll make you extremely depressed."
"So, it's a bad movie...?"
"What?! No, it's an amazing movie!"
Tyron shook his head and laughed, "What suit does this hand go to?"
"One of my older ones. I was checking it out and found a hell of a lot of glitches in the system. Had to redo it one limb at a time."
Tyron nodded, pulling up a chair, listening to Tony talk about his suit. On some occasions, he would ask questions, and Tony would eagerly answer them. This went on until the wee hours in the morning and Tyron had finally fallen asleep.
Tony had finished and looked behind him at the boy. He was sitting in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest and his head bobbing up and down as quiet snores escaped him. Tony shook his head, deciding to leave the kid where he was. He looked like he needed the sleep anyway.
Tony found a blanket and rested it over his shoulders before exiting the room.
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Tyron woke up to someone shaking his shoulders. He jumped up and stepped back, his fingers searching for metal. He found some and absorbed it, quickly turning his finger into metal claws.
"Hey. Hey," Tony spoke, his hands outstretched to calm Tyron. "Just wanted to wake you up." Tyron was quiet for a few seconds, then he took a deep breath and gave a forced smirk.
"Oh, sorry, ya just scared..." He said quietly. He ran a hand in his head and sighed, "Sorry."
"Don't sweat it," Tony assured. "C'mon, there's food in the kitchen," Tyron nodded and followed Tony out of the room.
Tony led Tyron down a few halls, until they stopped in a kitchen with glass doors. The room smelled like pancakes, and Tyron crinkled his nose in disgust. He stepped inside and Tony closed the door behind him. Tyron looked at him, and tensed, and his heart began to race. He had been in too many situations were he felt trapped.
Tony moved to sit at the island counter, and waved Tyron to sit beside him. Tyron didn't accept his offer and stayed standing. He stepped over to see who was at the stove, and found that it was Steve.
Anger washed over Tyron's face, "I said I didn't wanna see 'im!" Tyron snapped at Tony, going back to the doors to see if he could open them, but they were locked.
"He saved your life," Tony reasoned with a sigh. "The least you could do is thank him."
"Like 'ell I will!" He looked for any other doors, but they were glass too. There happened to be a window on the other side of the room, which showed the rain slamming against it. "Fuck."
"Language," Steve piped and Tyron glared at him.
"Fuck you," he corrected himself, bitterness edging his tone.
The two adults sighed at his attitude, "What's your issue with him?" Tony asked, "He helped you with those thugs, he bought you a drink, and he saved your ass when you were napping on the sidewalk!"
"He ruined my life!" Tyron snapped, "Everythin' was fine until 'e strolled up an' stuck 'is fuckin' nose where it didn't belong! Now Baron's on my ass and I'll be dead in a fuckin' week!"
The room went silent as Tyron ran his hands over his head, "Who's Baron?" Steve asked, "I... Heard you mention that name when I met you." Tyron began to pace, his arms crossed over his chest.
"None of ya goddamn business. You've done enough, just leave m'alone," Tyron grumbled.
"Is Baron your boss?" Tony asked and Tyron winced, "If he's coming to get you then—"
"He's not," Tyron growled. "I'll work it out myself."
"I thought you said you cut it off with that organization."
Tyron didn't offer an answer. He simply sat on the floor, leaning against a wall. After nearly ten minutes of an awkward silence, someone stepped up to one of the glass doors and it opened. "Hey," the voice was feminine, and Tyron looked up. Two people were standing there, one was a woman with striking red hair that was pulled back. She wore a casual clothes and heels with a few inches on them. The man beside her had brown hair and wore a leather jacket and jeans.
The doors closed behind them quickly and Tyron sighed, there goes his escape plan. He heard his name being spoke of and he looked up, "... In a bit of a bad mood." Steve said, looking his direction. Tyron glared at him, and he adverted his eyes.
Then, the two adults where heading his direction. Tyron stood, looked them over. He was able to tell they both were fighters, from his time on the streets. And, they had to be close, based on the way they regarded each other.
The man spoke first, "I'm Clint, Clint Barton. This is my partner, Natasha Romanoff." He held out his hand, but Tyron didn't accept it, he only glared.
"It's nice to meet you," Natasha said, giving him kind smile.
Tyron turned away, now looking at Tony, "When can I leave?" He demanded.
Tony looked at Steve for an answer, but he just shrugged, "When Brucie says you're good, we'll escort you back to your place."
"I don't need a babysitter," Tyron grunted.
"We're not offering one," Steve replied. "We just want to make sure you get home safe." Tyron pressed his lips together, but didn't respond. Steve cleared his throat, "I... Made you something to eat too. Tony said you ate, uh, differently, so..."
"M'not 'ungry." Tyron grumbled, not leaving his spot. "Let's finish the 'check-up' so I can go."
"He's probably still asleep, you'll have to wait," Clint said, and Tyron shot him a side glare. He crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't like being in a room with three men, all bigger and stronger than himself. His instincts from previous encounters screamed at him to find a way out, but he suppressed the urge and took a deep breath.
"So... Tyron," Natasha spoke, and Tyron turned on the spot to look at the woman. "How did you get here?"
"Steve," he answered bluntly. "'E kidnapped me."
"I didn't!" Steve shouted from the other side of the room. Tyron smirked at the man whose cheeks had turned a light shade of pink.
Tony sucked his teeth, "In a way..."
"Shut up, Stark!" He hissed, glaring as he plopped another pancake on the plate. The other adults began to chuckle as the glass doors slid open again. Tyron turned sharply as Bruce stepped through, giving everyone a tired smile.
"Mornin'," he greeted with a small yawn. Although Tyron was glad that the doctor had finally woken up, he also didn't like the idea of now being stuck with four men, and one of them having the ability to turn into a raging green monster.
Tyron began to tap his fingers on his leg. He desperately needed a way out, in case things turned sour. He didn't want to be in this room, he couldn't fight four men on his own. Especially in his condition. Tyron's mind began to unwillingly trail back to his days with Baron, and his dream from last night. Would they treat him like Baron did? Was that why they wouldn't let him go? Mutants were valuable, especially kinds like him.
Tyron remembered his first night with Baron. He remembered the man Baron sold him to, and how he treated him. He remembered his pleas for him to stop, to get off him. He remembered how he hated himself afterwards and how much he wanted to die in that second.
Tyron remembered the one time he tried to fight back. The man who bought him, a young man, and looked very rich. He was in the middle of his 'session' when Tyron snapped. The man had left a ring on by accident and Tyron absorbed it. Then, he used it to cut his dick off. It was a gruesome scene, but he remembered how satisfying it made him feel afterwards, at least, he was for two minutes.
Baron came in and saw what he done. Then, he shot Tyron several times. Bullets never killed him, thanks to his mutation, but it hurt as much as it would getting shot. The pain was excruciating. Tyron could still feel where it collided with it stomach. Then, he strangled Tyron, choking him to near death.
Tyron could feel his hands around his neck and gagged, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He gagged again, holding his throat. He was going to die. Baron was going to kill him. He was going to find him, and skin him alive. He was a bad, bad pet. He was going to die now.
There were four of them, they were going to kill him. They we're going to kill him, he was going to die. "... Tyron?" One of them said. Tyron made a half-choking, half-panicked sound. "Wha—? Kid, what's wrong?"
Baron was going to kill him. He was going to use these men to get to him. He was going to die. He was trapped again! Trapped! He was stuck! Helpless! Powerless! They were going to kill him. They were going to make him want to kill himself. Die, he was going to die.
People were moving around him, fast. He couldn't follow it, he was trying to focus on his throat working again. Someone came up to him and began to speak, "Tyron, Tyron look at me," Steve. Man. He was going to hurt him. Tyron scrambled back, trembling. "Hey!"
"He doesn't want to talk to you!" A man said, "He's scared!"
"Should we sedate him?" Another man said.
"Yeah, if you wanted to give him a heart attack!" The first, and he was angry.
"Guys, calm down," A woman? Tyron turned, it was Natasha, and she was glaring at the men. He almost sagged with relief, someone to help. She was going to help.
Tyron reached for her, she turned, noticing his movements. He wheezed, struggling to speak. He was still choking, he still couldn't breathe. He was going to die, they were going to kill him!
"Hey, Tyron, you need to calm down," the woman spoke gently. "I know you're scared, but you'll be even more hurt if you don't calm down, alright?" Tyron only nodded. He tried to follow the woman's instructions and attempted to breath easier, but whenever he tried, Baron's hold would tighten.
"What do you need? Do you need something?" She asked, coming closer.
"T... Too ma–many..." Tyron croaked.
"Too many what?"
"Th–They're gonna ki–kill me..." He coughed, the sides of his vision flashing a dangerous red.
"Who is?"
"H–He... Th–They... To–Too many..."
"Okay, Tyron, I want to you to count with me. Can you do that?" Tyron swallowed, but barely nodded, "Good. Ready? One... Two... Three... Four..." Tyron repeated the woman's words as she went up to ten, then back down from ten, and repeated the process.
It had taken nearly an hour, but Tyron's breathing finally steadied out, and he was just left coughing and gasping. "Good job, Tyron," Natasha smiled. He gave a small nod as he tried to catch his breath. "I sent the others outside. If you want something to eat, then Steve and Tony said there should be your 'food' in the cabinet. I don't know what that means, but he said you'd like it."
Tyron didn't bother to answer, so Natasha continued talking, "Do you get those often?" Tyron shook his head. "Do you know what triggered it?" He nodded, "Want to tell me?" He shook his head.
Natasha respected this decision and stood, "Let's get you something to eat, kid."