Chapter Sixteen:
Tyron was tired. He laid on his bed, staring at the pages before him. After school, and running with Steve, and everything else that was going on... Well, he was ready to lay down and sleep till next year. However, he still had work to finish, and then there was the party coming up that evening that Tony was preparing at the moment.
Tyron felt socially exhausted. He was tired, moody, and wanted to get high. It's been months since his last smoke and he felt like he deserved it at this point. Unfortunately, his main source of drugs were cut off, leaving him only to a regular smoke.
Tyron groaned, "I don't suppose ya can get m'some weed, can ya JARVIS?" He asked the aritifual intelligence.
"No, and I do not reccomend you getting high either," JARVIS replied promptly.
"Thought ya'd say that," he murmured, going back to his work, annoyed.
- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -
"M'headin' out!" Tyron shouted to whoever could hear him.
"Where are you going?" Tony asked, coming out of one of the side rooms.
"Just for a walk," Tyron shrugged. "Hey, can I have a twenty?"
"What do you need a twenty for?" Tony asked curiously, but pulled out his wallet anyway.
"Just in case," he shrugged, accepting the bill with a smile. "Thanks."
"Mmhmm," Tony rose an eyebrow. "Don't be out all night -- the party starts in a few hours."
"Gimme another sixty an' I can go to a club instead," Tyron smirked, but Tony rolled his eyes.
"Hurry up and leave," he said. "Call if anything happens."
"I know," Tyron replied, heading for the elevator. "See ya." He gave a short wave before stepping inside.
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Tyron stood in the corner store quietly, looking in the fridge, slowly absorbing the metal handle. He used it to make a small metal line from his finger, through the tiles in the floor, to the cigarettes behind the counter. So far, nobody suspected him, and soon, the pack of Marlboro cigarettes were his.
He stuffed it in his pocket and walked out the door disinterested. Once he was far enough, he lit the cigarette as he walked, content to finally get the chance to smoke something. Although he hadn't had traditional cigarettes in a while, it was nice to finally get the chance to take a smoke.
Tyron almost couldn't believe all that had happened lately. Last year today, he was doing deals with Baron, and now, he was here.
Tyron stopped at a 99 cents store, going in and picking up a sketchpad and a pen. He missed sketching, something he hadn't done in a while.
Thanking the cashier, he walked across the street, going to sit at a small park, only the size of a block. A few kids were playing around, climbing the trees or kicking a ball.
Tyron sat at the bench, smiling, sketching, and quietly smoking. All was quiet for about twenty minutes until someone sat beside him. Then, they yanked the dying cigarette out of his mouth.
"Hey!" He snapped, turning their way. It was Steve and he did not look happy. "What's the matter wit' ya?" He frowned.
"You are not old enough to smoke," he scolded. "What are you doing, anyway?"
"Mindin' m'own business," Tyron replied. "Ya tryin' to take notes?"
Steve rolled his eyes, "The party starts soon. You aren't going?"
"Not m'crowd," Tyron shrugged. "Why aren't ya there, Mr. Perfect?"
"I'm not 'Mr. Perfect'," Steve frowned and Tyron laughed at the lie.
"Please, ya a better definition of stereotypical American, than a Big Mac," Tyron laughed. "'Sides, you didn't answer m'question. What're ya doin' here?"
"Tony said you went out. I wanted to check on you. Good thing I did too," he said, muttering the last part, tossing the butt of his cigarette in a nearby trash can. "I wanted to talk."
"Then speak," Tyron shrugged.
Steve sighed, "How would you like to join the Avengers?" Tyron stared at the man, blank-faced. Steve looked back, although seemed a bit awkward.
Finally, Tyron laughed. At first, it had been a scoff, no more than a chuckle, but it evolved into full-blown belly laughter. He stopped, however, when he realized Steve hadn't joined him.
"Holy shit, ya serious," Tyron spoke, his laughter dying.
"When you turn eighteen, you'll be able to join, on probation," Steve continued to explain. "You'd shadow us in low-level missions. At twenty-one, you'll be able to become a fully fledged Avenger."
"Weren't ya just against m'becomin' a soldier, like, two days ago?" Tyron asked, surprised. "What changed ya mind?"
"Clint did," Steve admitted. "He said we needed a field medic, and you fit the description. You're impenetrable to bullets, or so you claim, metal doesn't work on you, and you can defend yourself. I don't want you in the action until you're of age, but a person to take care of us -- or at least few of us that needs taking cares of -- you'd be able to do that."
"M'honoured," Tyron said seriously. "I'll accept, under one condition."
"What is it?"
"Ya Avengers, ya start helpin' out here. Wit' people like me -- mutants. Make sure we're protected, jus' like ya protect the country. I don't wanna see anyone else come out as bad as I did."
"You didn't come out bad," Steve frowned.
"I can kill a man with m'bare hands," Tyron deadpanned. "M'not normal. Not even by mutant standards. So, I want ya to stop it. Help us, don't... Don't let us jus' get shot an' killed an' be forgotten..."
"You won't be," Steve assured. "Because you aren't going to die."
"Course, Steve," Tyron murmured quietly. "Course."
- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -
Tyron sighed closing his eyes as the music steadily drummed around him. He sat at a tall table, nodding to those who passed by. He was bored, and didn't really enjoy dinner parties like this. Everyone was trying to please the other, or get what they wanted. Everyone was smiles and cheap laughter. It annoyed him to no end.
He sighed, wishing he was at one of the clubs in Brooklyn. Those were the shit, especially on nights like these. These people didn't know how to party correctly.
Tyron sighed, watching as a pretty woman passed by. She smirked at him, but he only nodded, not paying any mind. "I'd think that someone like you would be all up in a party like this," Tony said behind him, and Tyron turned slowly.
"This ain't no party," Tyron scoffed. "S'too quiet. Real parties are loud an' fun. Real parties are so good, the cops gotta come to stop it. Those are good. This... This is nothin'."
Tony laughed, picking up a drink he brought over here. "You seem really calm tonight too," Tony smiled. "Haven't even seen you make eyes with one girl tonight."
"They ain't m'type," Tyron shrugged, and Tony rose an eyebrow.
"I didn't know--"
"I didn't say," Tyron replied. He inhaled, "Where are the others?"
"They're about to go upstairs. Party's ending soon. Wanna come with?"
"To the after party?" Tyron laughed. "Sure."
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Tyron sat on the long couch, smirking as the other Avengers mingled around him. Clint had been eyeing Thor's hammer for a while, and finally he spoke up. "But, it's a trick!" Clint said, motioning to the hammer, clearly a bit tipsy.
"Oh, no. It's much more than that," Thor spoke, grinning as he took a sip of his drink.
"Uh, 'Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power'!" Clint scoffed, "Whatever man! It's a trick."
"Well, please, be my guest," Thor said, a smile on his lips.
"Come on," Tony rolled his eyes.
"Really?" Clint asked skeptically.
"Yeah!" Thor smirked, so Clint got up.
"Oh this is gonna be beautiful," James Rhodes said. Tony introduced Tyron to him earlier, but they hadn't talk to each other much.
"Clint, you've had a tough week, we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up," Tony teased and everyone laughed. Even Tyron managed to chuckle, but Clint gave him a half-hearted glare.
"You know I've seen this before, right?" Clint asked as he grabbed the hammer's handle. Then, he pulled, but the magic hammer didn't budge. "I still don't know how you do it."
"Smell the silent judgment?" Tony laughed, taking a swig of his drink.
Clint moved, motioning to the hammer. "Please, Stark, by all means," he said, moving out of the man's way. Tony smirked and stands.
"Oh, here we go," Natasha sighed, but grinned anyway.
"Okay," a woman whom Tyron forgot the name to huffed.
Rhodes rolled his eyes. "Uh-oh."
"Never one to shrink from an honest challenge," Tony says, rolling up his sleeves.
"Get after it," Clint egged.
"It's physics," Tony says simply.
"Physics!" Bruce cheered, seeing as he was the only other scientist.
"Right, so, if I lift it, I... I then rule Asgard?" Tony said, grasping the handle, ready to pull.
"Yes, of course," Thor grinned.
"I will be re-instituting Prima Nocta," Tony informed with a smirk. Then, he tries to lift it, but failed. He frowned, "I'll be right back."
Five minutes later, Tony has a metal hand from one of his suits and tried, but again, he failed. Another five minutes, and both he and Rhodes are pulling at the handle with thier metal hands and had no luck.
"Are you even pulling?" Rhodes hissed accusingly.
"Are you on my team?" Tony replied sharply.
"Just represent! Pull!"
"Alright, let's go!" They begin to pull together, but it hasn't moved at all.
After they've finally given up, Bruce tried, and jokingly tried to turn into the hulk, but failed. Tyron noticed that everyone did not smile, with the exception of Natasha, who smirked ever so slightly. Tyron rose an eyebrow, a bit surprised.
"I'd love to stay an' chat," Tyron spoke, standing. "But, I've got school tomorrow. Rather not get detention 'cause I missed the sub." Tyron smiled, as the others waved their goodbyes and headed towards the elevator to his room.
Tyron sighed as he sat on his bed, more than ready to lay down and sleep. He still had a few more pages to finish, and didn't think he'd have the time to finish them on the bus. He pulled out his book, "JARVIS, can ya play m'playlist?" Tyron asked, however, the AI did not respond. "JARVIS? JAR?"
"He... Isn't here..." A new voice said. A different one. Tyron had never heard this voice before. He stiffened, his hand going to the knife he kept under his pillow.
"Who are ya?"
"That... That other person, that... JARVIS. He's gone. I had to kill him," the voice didn't even seen remotely remorseful for his words. "Who are you? You... You aren't any of those Avengers. You're... Dirty. You're a mistake. Yes, that's what they call you. Disgusting. Abberation. Immoral."
"What the fuck do ya want?" Tyron glared at the ceiling, hoping that this voice could feel his anger.
"I... I want..." Tyron heard whirring and froze, something was near. "I want peace." Then, the door was forced open and a half built robot scrambled through. Bullets pierced through Tyron's shirt, but Tyron didn't flinch. He charged the rabid robot, absoring the metal as he ripped it apart, teeth tearing and consuming it's loose wires.
"Tyron Brown," The voice spoke. "You were in a gang, the Metal Shadow. The Silver Knight. The Tin Man." Tyron frowned, recognizing the names Baron had given to him.
"Shut up," he glared, going to the door, but it closed instantly. Tyron absorbed the metal, and then kicked the door open.
"To walk away while someone is speaking is rude," the voice spoke. "What if I used this?" The voice was suddenly deeper, suddenly sinister. It sounded like Baron. Tyron turned immediately, focused on the ceiling. "That got your attention," Baron-Voice laughed.
"Shut up!" Tyron glared.
"I've seen the videos. All you were was a dog, a loyal hunting dog. Then, and now. You've never broken that chain, and you never will. He knows where you are. He's just waiting for the right chance to strike. He'll get you, and then, he'll kill you." The voice began to laugh with Baron's voice. Tyron covered his ears. He could feel Baron punishing him again. Laughing as he begged the man to stop, to leave him to die. To kill him.
The laughter was coming from everywhere. Tyron couldn't help it. He shot out knives at the television, the speakers, the cell phones, even the microwave, if it helped. But it kept coming, kept agitating him.
Tyron began to shake. He was a bad pet, that's why Baron laughed at him. He always laughed before his punishments. He always humiliated him. Renting him out to other men, shooting him, whipping him. Tyron remember it all. It was all because he was a bad pet, a very bad pet. He was going to die now, because he was a bad pet. A bad pet. A bad, bad, pet.
Smeone was shaking his shoulders. Tyron jumped, swiping bladed fingers in their direction. Natasha moved to quickly to get sliced. Tyron stared at the woman, trying to control his breathing. "Hey, Tyron, it's okay, it's alright."
"... Ad pet, bad pet, bad pet," he heard himself mutter. He wasn't even aware he was saying it. But now that he heard, he couldn't stop. He could head the voice in his head. "Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad pet. A very bad, pet, bad. Pet, bad pet, bad..."
"Hey, hey," Natasha whispered. "It's good, Tyron, he's not here. He can't get you here."
Tyron managed a small nod, trying to agree. He made an effort to keep his mouth shut. "Great. Good job. Come upstairs. We have work to do."