disclaimer: i do not own the avengers. bugger.

Chapter 28

It could have been the dull, throbbing headache of a massive hangover. He'd had enough of those in his lifetime. However, Tony was absolutely sure that it had been near minutes ago that half his faceplate was crushed, a dent pressing into his head at an uncomfortable angle. A hangover would be welcome compared to this. His head rang as he felt himself being knocked around inside his suit as he was pulled along the tunnels.

"Jarvis...buddy..." His voice was hoarse, throat raw and bruised. A sharp tug silenced him as air painfully left his lungs. He had a witty remark ready in his head, but nothing more than an incoherent mumble left his mouth as the pain hit.

Don't panic.

The HUD was dark. Jarvis was silent.

You are Tony Fucking Stark.

The outside world was unreachable.

This is not Afghanistan.

Tony fought down the panic building inside him. He was trapped in a metal suit, Jarvis was unavailable, and the pain in his right side was unimaginable. He could feel a slow, trickling trail of blood run down his hip and the raw, deep burn of pain.

Okay. Think, Tony. The Chitauri dragged him down deeper in the tunnels, where it was darker and harder to escape. His once gleaming armour was scraping along the gritty floor like an old rag doll, the red and gold shine now battle-worn and replaced with dirt.

As far as Tony knew, none of these creatures had ever captured a human intentionally. During the invasion, people were either killed or herded like mindless sheep. Not that the Chitauri whose claws were around his arm appeared to care for the engineer's wellbeing, far from it. It just pulled Tony along to wherever it was they were heading.

In retrospect, perhaps he should have paid more heed to Loki's distressed warning. Yeah. He could do that in the future.

Tony could have sworn he hadn't passed out, but when he opened his eyes, he realized he was no longer moving, or rather, being moved, and he couldn't hear the chitinous sounds of the Chitauri. Feeling around in the dark, he explored his immediate area until he felt safe enough, for the moment, to prop himself against a moist stone wall. Water was slowly dripping along its slippery surface; at least, he severely hoped it was water.

Not nearly fast enough for the engineer's liking, his eyes started to adjust to the dark surroundings. This had the questionable advantage of letting him discover new gradients of black, all the way from a midnight colour to the shade under the bed had when the notorious boogie-man resided under it. Somewhere along the hard wall, something shuffled and Tony froze. He could hear the rustling of clothing as, he hoped, a person shifted a limb.

"Shhhhh, I think he's coming to." I'll call him Sewer Man #1. Or, wait! Leonardo! No, Leo was more of the leader, maybe Raphael?

"Should we give him something to drink?" Okay, this is Donatello.

"Don't be a moron, it's not like we have water to spare. Dimwit." Dude, Raphael is a bit of a dick. The water would be nice, thankyouverymuch. See if I donate to any more turtle conservation centres.

"Bob would have shared, even if was nothing more than a sip." I like Donatello. I'll buy pizza for the centres. None for you, Raph.

"Well I ain't Bob, you dolt, and I ain't sharing anything, Jack." Raphael ain't Bob or Jack and doesn't like to share. It's like one of those logic puzzles. Now which one has the purple hat and the fluffy rat? Put a checkmark down for Donatello being Jack.

With an attentive ear, but the brain fuzziness that accompanies hangover migraines, something with which Tony was intimately familiar, he listened to the discussion. Mental commentary aside, and a craving for pizza, he'd recognized the spoken names. Bob, of course, who was or, at least, should be, still in the hospital. And Jack, presumably "Daniels." Or Donatello. No sign of Shredder's minions.

"Do you guys mind? I'm trying to get some beauty sleep here." He may have been dragged around by an overgrown cockroach, suffering an impending migraine of monstrous proportions, and signs of exhaustion that would cause that look from Pepper, but there was little in the world that could silence his mouth.

The grumpier of the other two men answered first. "See? Good going. You woke him up, you retard." No one asked your opinion, Raph.

"At least now we know he's alive and kicking," replied Donatello, the man Tony believed to be Jack Daniels. At least one of them had a positive outlook on this messy situation. When they got out of here, he'd buy him a case of Jack to go with the pizza.

A disapproving snort resounded along the stone walls. "And where will that get him? Hmmm? It hardly changes our crap-ass fate, now, does it?"

The engineer huffed. "You know, I really dislike being ignored here."

"Yeah, well, ain't it nice to meet ya?" The bad-tempered one sneered. "Who are you, anyway? I dun recognise your voice from anywhere. You ain't a local. We ain't got time for outsiders. We got our own worries."

"I'm Iron Man."

"Good for you, lad. I'm Batman," replied Raphael, affecting the gravel growl of the caped crusader. "I bet you're here to save us all, eh? God, they must have hit you harder than I thought…" He trailed off, but not before Tony heard him mumble, "Not that it matters."

Tony definitely found it disturbing that there were only two other men here. According to both Bob and Loki, there should have been more. There was the possibility that were being kept elsewhere, but an eerie feeling distinctly told him otherwise. "So, where are the others?"

"Gone." Donatello's whisper echoed in Stark's ears. He sounded so young. No one should have to discover the monsters are real.

"How'd ya know there were others?" Raphael sounded suspicious. Great. Even Pepper and Loki together couldn't spin the press on another Iron Man versus homeless into something positive, no matter that they were in Chitauri-filled sewers.

"Already told you - I am Iron Man." Not getting recognised because of this damned darkness was really starting to piss him off. Come on, even drifters and beggars should know Tony Stark, Iron Man, right?

Wait a minute, it's dark in here. Why is it dark in here?

Tony mentally face-palmed himself. "I'm an idiot."

"Yeah, no arguing that, boy," Raphael cracked.

Tony ignored the comment, already moving his hands along the remains of his armour. He detected removed parts and blemishes across the surface, left-over parts were either dented or…

No wonder his "light" was out, leaving him in this distressful darkness. His muscles straining painfully, he managed to dislodge a jammed plate, effectively opening the inner works of his chest armour. A soft blue light started to illuminate their surroundings, granting him a look at the two tired faces of his fellow abductees.

"Holy shit! You really are Iron Man."

That would be Raphael. Tony saw the bad-tempered man now, younger than expected, but still with grey streaks in his locks and a receding hairline. Both he and Jack had dark shadows under their eyes. They looked lean and twitchy, just like the rats in the maze that they were. So much for turtles. Maybe he'll start calling Raphael Willard, instead.

Tony sighed. "Told you so." His arc reactor allowed him to check out the wound on his side. That definitely didn't look good in any way, but nothing much he could do about it now. "What do you mean the others are gone?"

Raph-Willard and Don looked at each other and Tony saw the wide eyes, clenched jaws, and paled skin beneath the dirt, the blue light of the reactor casting the two men in shades of corpse-like terror. It was pretty clear that Grumpy's attitude was covering up some serious emotional damage, not helped by their current situation. It was a wonder that Don still seemed to be looking on the bright side of things.

Raph looked away into the darkness of the tunnels. "Those creatures took them, dragged them away. Left us in the dark, able to do nothing but hear their cries."

"Dinner," added Don, voice quiet and absent-minded. Tony could almost hear his positive attitude slide out of the window. His face was so drained of colour, Tony was sure the man would pass out.

The other drifter nodded and let out a deep sigh. "That's how it is, Mr. Stark."

"Tony." The engineer paired his signature shit-eating grin with the look of grim determination that got him through Afghanistan. It felt dark and brutal, but it gave the appearance of confidence that they would either triumph or do some damage along the way. He'd been in worse, after all, each time crawling out from under the rubble to stand victorious. He could be the support for these two men.

He needed to act fast. His wound was still bleeding and even if nothing vital appeared to be struck, time was limited. As it was, his head had developed a deep, lingering throb, and his chest ached whenever he breathed too deeply. Time was definitely limited.

Donatello, err, Jack, and Grumpy Raphael-Willard looked at him expectantly. "Help me get this off, guys. We have work to do."

The other Avengers headed in Iron Man's direction through the narrow maze of underground tunnels. Bruce guided them every step of the way from his seat in the tower, the holographic model showing him the exact position of each team member except Loki. He had given the man a marker, a dark green one, and it was glowing ahead of the others. Contact with the ex-god was out of the question since Loki hadn't taken an earpiece, but the scientist could estimate where he was or should be. According to his calculations, the trickster should be around 10 to 15 minutes ahead of the rest, given, of course, that Loki had a way of remembering the route.

Bruce didn't care who got there first so long as Tony was alive and, more or less, healthy. The scientist was a bit at odds with himself, however. He wanted a happy ending out of this situation, both for his friend and the crazy god. He just wasn't sure how far he was willing to go to help make it happen.

Right now, it looked like he got to listen to Steve berate him for not hulking out and restraining Locke from going after Tony. Tony owed him big for this; Steve was pretty good with a guilt trip. "Look, Bruce, I know Locke is a mutant, but his powers are unstable. He said so himself. I know that he and Tony are in an…umm…relationship but...um."

For a while now, the good captain had been trying to convince Bruce how bad an idea it was to let Tony's assistant go was. Kind of pointless, really. Bruce knew from the moment Loki ran out of the door that it was bound to end in tragedy. He sighed. "Steve, I couldn't stop him from going. Not even if I wanted to, which I didn't. There is no stopping a man with a will to save someone. I'm sure you know that feeling, Captain."

"It just doesn't make sense anymore, Bruce." And there was the not-so-subtle rebuke, the unspoken request to fill in the gaps. He chose to ignore it.

After an excruciatingly long silence, Natasha spoke. "Banner, you are withholding information. Locke is more then he seems." Bruce winced. Of all of them, he knew Romanov would be the biggest threat to Loki and Tony's secret.

"Bruce? I'm asking you as a friend, not as Captain America." Gone was the soldier's command. In its place, the plea of a friend to help another friend. "Please tell us anything that can aid us."

Damn his conscience and damn the fact that he got involved with people. He loathed conflict; it just never turned out well for him or those around him. He rubbed his temple and sighed deeply. Yes...I mean no, I..."

He never should have stayed in New York. Leaving was wiser, hiding was smarter, but his friends had asked him to stay. Friends. Real friends were something that were rare in his life. "Yes, Natasha is right, but trust me on this. He means well. And even if it sounds like I am crazy, it is my opinion that he genuinely cares for Tony. Please. Whatever happens, doesn't forget that."

The scientist held no illusions those blond locks and blue eyes would not hide Loki for long, not now. Natasha was ready to flay him, expose every secret. An Asgardian make-over did no good when the ex-god had similar traits as the crazed villain they had fought.

"You are not telling us what he is capable of doing, but you believe he can help," Steve commented. "I can go with that. Right now, any helping hand is welcome as long as he doesn't get himself or anyone else killed."

"I can't," Natasha attested. "I don't trust him."

Naturally, Clint had to rally on Romanov's side. Bruce hadn't really expected anything else. "Neither do I. He has to be a rotten egg, Nat's instinct are rarely wrong."

"I am never wrong, Barton."

"Well, I do remember this one time in Budapest when you..."

"Clint, I am…never wrong." After the Widow's last words, silence fell over the comm line. The last thing Bruce heard were hurried footsteps and his own voice giving directions.

While Bruce knew that the soldier part of Steve's mind would accept his words on faith, for now, and focus solely on the mission, he also knew Natasha's would not. It would keep working, dissolving truth from fiction. She would take apart the stories she had heard about Tony's assistant and put the facts together. The Widow may never have seen the man before, but a part inside her knew him, a part that was (rarely) never wrong. Bruce knew she would trust her instincts. Time was running out and Bruce feared for his friend at the middle of a shitstorm of epic proportions.

Loki had better hurry. The Chitauri were not the only things after him.

Tony had managed, with the help of Donatello, who insisted on being called Jack, and good ol' Grumpy Raphael (whose name he hadn't asked), to remove the remaining obstructing armour plates. He had even managed to rewire the connection to his right glove, enabling the repulsor. It wasn't much, but in the eyes of two desperate men, it meant the world. It was a literal shot in the dark, but Tony Stark wouldn't go down without a fight. "Look for any usable metal parts. The larger, the better."

"What do we do with 'em?" asked Jack.

"I don't know. Carry them around like a shield or something. It will at least protect you a bit if they decide to attack." Yeah. Not so much.

It was times like this that Tony really missed Jarvis. He was trying to inspect his injury and it didn't look pretty. It was torn and raw, but at least most of the bleeding had stopped. He needed that dry, witty British accent to tell him that the simple truth of things. He felt woozy and light-headed and was pretty sure any strenuous action would result in him passing out. He knew his body was screaming at him to rest, to cease and desist any and all activity.

He knew he didn't have that luxury right now. He had to carry on for the men beside him. Who knew when those bastard Chitauri would return? He would be damned before they got him or one of the other two. Not this lifetime. Not over his dead body.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Tony," the engineer commented absent-mindedly.

"Tony, is anybody else coming? They have to be right?" asked Jack, a slight quiver to his words.

Tony winced at the hint of childlike hope in Jack's voice. "They better be coming or I'll kick them out of my tower," he growled.

"So nobody might be coming," noted Grumpy Raphael, his earlier attitude in full swing. "They might just leave us all to rot down here. Heh. It's kind of funny if you think about it."

Tony raised his eyebrow in question. "Please. Do tell me what is so funny," he dramatically swayed his arm in an overview of the area in which they were trapped. "About our lovely situation."

"You, us, it doesn't matter anymore. We're all stuck in the same deep shit and in the end, we're all the same." Grumpy Raphael smirked and tapped the piece of metal he was to use as a shield. "Poor bastards, each one of us."

"Oh come on, Grumpy. Cut the depressing nonsense..."

It could be a trick of the mind, but Tony swore that somewhere in the distance, he heard a sliding noise against the walls. He hushed the other two men before they managed to ruin the silence and covered the blue glow of his arc reactor. There was no point in giving anything hostile more of an advantage.

The unknown was approaching. The sound was different from anything Chitauri. It was almost familiar, but he couldn't place its advance. It wasn't Steve's ever-steady tread, and, well he wouldn't hear Natasha.

Tony wasn't exactly warm down in these depths, and the trickle of fearful anticipation down his spine probably wasn't helping, but he could swear it was getting colder. The engineer was sure that the small group was breathing out small puffs of condensation in this newfound chill. Oddly, he found this strange frosty sensation calming, but the hairs on his back rose when a thud resounded in the area. What was left of his brain was clamoring that something dangerous and eerie stood near them, something akin to a predator. If the cold wasn't freezing him, his hind brain was certainly trying.

Tony felt his heart skip a few rather necessary beats as he felt an immensely cold but familiar touch on his cheek. A welcome rush of warmth pooled in his chest. "Lo..."

A frozen finger touched his lips urging his silence. "Fool." A cold and hardened voice sounded from the dark as strange, reflective, red and otherworldly eyes focused on the genius.

Loki felt content that whatever feeling of relief and concern he portrayed on his face was hidden well beneath the cover of darkness.

Thank you kind readers, feel free to leave a review ( hmmm soulfood)
And big thanks to the beta of this chapter, swordmisstress.