Chapter Fourteen: [weather redacted in report of unexplained incident in Afghanistan]
It is very clear to Emory that she is under intense observation. Her room is smaller than a typical dorm room, and something about it feels wrong, like it's being re-used as a hospital room instead of designed for that purpose. The lack of a window is particularly strange, and she gets up to look around, grabbing her IV pole to roll it around with her. The bag attached to her tubing is empty, and she is tempted to pull the whole thing out, but that would likely draw attention. It is strange to her that she's been dressed in scrubs instead of a hospital gown, though- another indication that something is not quite normal.
When Emory approaches the door, she sees that the metal box above it has shining new screws drilled into chipped, ancient paint. The box has a steady red light which blinks green seconds before the door opens to admit 'Nurse Kate.'
Emory tells her she needs to use the bathroom, and remarks on the lack of a call button. The agent/nurse says something noncommittal about the call button and leads her to a different door (with another metal box, this one near the knob) requiring a card scan to open. The hallway beyond is under construction and dead-ends with a few tall file cabinets blocking the path.
The bathroom itself is multi-stall, and her guardian waits by the sinks. When Emory goes to flush the toilet, it makes a terrible sucking noise and doesn't fill back up. The sink itself is set to a trickle.
It's almost like they're afraid of what I could do with the water! Emory tells herself. Someone's clearly got a wild imagination. After seeing just how much air she needs to gather to do anything of consequence, it is laughable to think that she could manage to get enough water from an office bathroom to accomplish anything more than getting her blonde guard soaking wet.
Nurse Kate lets Emory precede her into the room, and Emory angles her path back to the bed carefully, her mind racing. At the last second, she turns to face the agent and backs up so she was leaning against the only viable exit. The woman stops and stands casually, legs apart, hands at her hips. If movies and TV are accurate about agent-types having gun holsters at their center back, Emory is certain this woman had one.
"Under whose authority are you holding me here?" she asks, wishing she had pockets to sink her hands into to hide how much they shake. Tony's voice in her head tells her that obvious distress might be to her advantage, if they're worried about what she might be capable of.
"Well," the agent pretending to be a nurse says, tipping her head sideways and smiling with what is almost but not quite a sweet expression, "Primarily, we're just trying to make sure you're medically sound. Beyond that, there could be some security concerns."
"For me? Or for the population at large?" Emory asks, surprised. It doesn't seem to read as surprise to her guard, though.
"See, that? That's just telling on yourself," Nurse Kate points out.
"Or I'm bluffing." Emory shrugs, sliding the IV pole in front of her like a shield.
"Well, the difference between the two is the authority under which you're being held."
"And that meeting I requested?"
"Are you blocking the door in hopes of advancing that timeline?"
Emory looks behind her as if she hadn't realized where she was standing. "Are we playing that game where we keep asking a question until the person who doesn't loses?"
The agent/nurse does an exaggerated shrugging maneuver and silently starts toward Emory. Emory steps aside just enough for the door to open, looking up at the light. Just as she thought it might, the light turns green before the woman touches the door. It hadn't turned green until the other woman had approached. That probably means there's a second person watching everything that's going on, hitting a button to let her fake nurse back out. The other option is that her badge also unlocks this door within a certain proximity, which might be useful.
The woman opens the door, and Emory throws a hand out to stop it. Immediately, Nurse Kate spins into a clearly combative stance, a hand flying out to hold onto the door underneath Emory's own grip.
"Can I have a book or something to do?" Emory asks in a friendly voice, as if that was the purpose of stopping the door. She now has confirmation that the woman standing opposite her is a special agent of some kind, one prepared to fight her if necessary.
With a decisive head shake, the woman walks through the open space, yanking the door out of Emory's hand. She doesn't even seem upset, despite the possible display of ego in not wanting to 'lose' the verbal spar.
"What, you think I'll get bored and play with some sort of magical superpower?" Emory says aloud, laughing.
She has learned more about her situation, though most of the information is functionally useless. The room is for her, she's sure, with a new security system on one door, though the badge scanner on the other seems like it's been there for a while. If she had to guess, Emory would say she's in a dis-used wing of a governmental building, as evidenced by the creative blockade at the end of the hallway. Her room feels like it was originally maybe some kind of small lobby with a reception desk, one that agents or employees would have to pass through to reach offices beyond the badge scan.
Emory climbs back into her bed and starts fiddling with the velcro of her former restraints. It seems like whoever has ordered her confinement is both concerned and creative. However, if she's right and they're hoping she'll display her abilities in frustration or boredom, they've checked their logical sense at the door.
She just spent how long stuck in a cave with practically nothing to do? And how exactly did she get out of there? Oh, right. She escaped.
Is that what they want her to try to do now? Emory's not discounting that option, but what she really wants are answers. It's been about an hour since she woke up. She decides not to try anything or complain until the next morning at the very least, which gives her a chance to observe the room overnight.
The problem is that to pass the time, Emory absolutely cannot think about Tony, not if she wants to thwart Nurse Kate and whoever is employing her. She'll have to distract herself, which she has practice doing. Emory pulls the blanket over her head as usual, and then laughs. She'd only started practicing her singing like this because she'd both wanted to hide and wanted to feel less self-conscious, but now it's a habit, one that probably looks suspicious. It's not the best thing for a singer to do, but by now, it's comforting, and she definitely needs that right now. Somewhere out there in the world, she knows that Tony's arm hurts, and she's not there to joke about the large number of pain relief options he has access to now. It feels so strange to think that if she pulled the blanket back down, he wouldn't be there.
The familiar tingle of energy build-up sheaths her arms, and Emory sighs. She's going to have to push away these thoughts, but Tony's been a part of her daily life for so long that it's like a part of her is missing.
That thought brings back the memories she'd tried to bury out of necessity.
Yinsen.
Just like that, her power dissipates, as if a switch has been thrown.
Emory pulls the blanket down off of her face so she can breathe freely. The weight of grief and guilt pull her into the fetal position on the bed, though she's careful not to dislodge the IV. She hopes that his soul is at peace along with his family. His confession that they'd been dead the whole time was another truth that Emory had shoved aside the day of their escape, and now seems like exactly the right time to wallow in how horrible that feels.
Maybe her misery will work out to be an advantage anyway, if AgentNurse Kate is watching through her hidden surveillance cameras. She might worry about Emory's grief and whether it's dangerous. If Emory could have her way, no one would feel at ease tonight, not when someone so kind, intelligent, and morally just has just been taken from the world.
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There had been an officious man standing beside Pepper. That's the thing Tony focuses on- not the uproar of press questions, not Stane's horrified laughter as he shuffles Tony away from the podium, not the near-constant sound of camera shutters clicking as they leave the room. The three of them, Tony, Obie, and Pepper, take the private elevator on the way up to Tony's office, and despite the fact that his arm has started to ache again, Tony can't stop himself from laughing.
"What could possibly be funny?" Obie asks. Fury emanates from every pore, every letter of every word.
"I'm destined to be stuck in confined spaces in groups of three, it seems."
"Tony-" Pepper's concerned voice breaks off when he reaches out and squeezes her hand briefly. Obie's huff of frustration sets Tony's own temper off, in a way that his hurried, desperate reassurals to the press hadn't.
"What, that's too far? Comfort? What a shock. You've never been great at that, as I recall," he snaps, seeing the words hit and feeling a perverse sort of glee in seeing their impact. They're true but unfair. Obie had stepped in and kept the company afloat while Tony himself had made bad choices with miraculous outcomes, over and over again, until he'd pulled himself together enough to head Stark Industries himself. There hadn't been much time for comfort, and his younger self probably wouldn't have appreciated it anyway.
"Tony!" Pepper gasps. "You're- you're shaken up. Not yourself."
The elevator door opens and Tony doesn't want to look at the room beyond, because the thing he wants -the person he wants to see- won't be there. Stane pushes past to stalk into the room, leans down to rest both hands on the desk for a second before spinning around to point directly at him.
"You need to take some time before you put yourself out there again. That was-" he pauses, rubs a hand over his face, and the person that emerges is the exact same jovial, glad-handing executive that had tried to smooth everything over minutes before. "I'm, I'm glad you're okay. Okay, Tony? I'm glad. But decisions this big after an event like that-"
Tony propels himself out of the elevator fueled primarily by outrage. "After seeing the kind of people who have access to our weapons and moving decisively to stop it? Is that the event you're referring to?"
He walks right up to Obie, and it's only because his arm hurts like hell that he doesn't reach up and do the thing that Stane always loves to do, adjust Tony's collar, pat the fabric paternally, like he actually ever gave a fuck. How long has this man used his jolly attitude to cover his contempt? Would Tony have ever realized it without spending time with Yinsen and learning to recognize the practice?
"So, what? That's it?" Stane asks, holding his hands out and letting them drop with a sound as they strike his leg. "You against the world? There's no need to do that, Tony, and I gotta tell you, trying to go it alone will just make it easier for people to ignore you. I may be many things to many people, and I'm not good at all of them, I'll admit it. One thing I am good at? PR. But you brought this down on my head with no warning, and it's going to take a hell of a lot of goodwill to fix that." He puffs out a breath and shakes his head, chuckling, once again returning to his True North when dealing with Tony, exasperated amusement. "What's your over/under on the stock drop for tomorrow, do you think?"
Tony looks over his shoulder to see that Pepper's settled herself down at the chair beside his desk. She's got a notebook out on the desk beside her, and there are a few lines written on it, but her hands are in her lap. She is a picture of studied calm. He's pretty sure she's taking notes as surreptitiously as possible; it's exactly what he needs from her, at exactly the moment he needs it. Tony throws her a little smile of gratitude, feeling a tiny sting of guilt when her reaction to seeing such an expression from him is surprise.
That makes him think of Emory too.
"Optimistically? 40 points," Tony says, working at his tie with one hand. He keeps his body angled in a way that Pepper can't see what he's doing, because he doesn't want her to fret about the brewing argument here, and if she sees him struggle with the tie, she'll get up to help.
Stane's eyebrows go up. "At minimum."
What follows is a completely reasonable argument on Stane's part about what's feasible as a company. Tony remains steadfast, even as he notes Obie's eyes drifting down to his chest multiple times. Obie clearly knows. If Tony weren't so worried about Emory, if she were waiting for him at the house and he knew she was safe, he would be making notes about the number of times he has already thought about her so he could make her laugh tonight. She'd be particularly amused about the way he feels almost objectified, how the fact of what he's carrying on his chest is a weight between himself and Obie, a hidden aspect of the conversation. He wants to ask her if that's what having breasts like hers is like, wants her to slap him, wants to make it up to her. He just wants.
"I think we should take another look into ARC reactor technology," Tony interrupts. Obie's lips turn downward, and he flicks a sheepish glance at Tony's face like he knows he's been caught before shaking his head.
"Nah, come on, that was a publicity stunt! We built that thing to shut the hippies up!"
What follows is another conversation full of pushback, but he knows Stane's just stalling. Finally, they both stop arguing and just level suspicious looks at each other for a full fifteen seconds.
Tony just knows that if he looked over at Pepper, she'd be the very picture of anxiety. He decides to put her out of her misery. "Could you have a lousier poker face? Just tell me, who told you? Rhodey? Or Pepper?"
"Told him what?" Pepper interjects. Tony turns to look at her and she's wide-eyed, her brows furrowed.
"Rhodey didn't tell- You're kidding, right?" he demands, shocked.
"You were with us the whole time! Harry was driving, I was in the back-"
"Hold on, Harry?" Tony interrupts, bewildered.
Pepper's face turns bright red. "It's- y-ou were gone, Tony. He, the nickname, it, it felt like a farce, neither of us could-"
Tony waves a hand to cut her off. "All right, okay, got it." Her extreme embarrassment and stuttering response tells Tony that the moment he'd seen on the tarmac might have been something private and meaningful to Happy and Pepper. He sets that world-tilting notion aside for the moment.
Stane rests a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder. "Show me."
"All right," he agrees, releasing the velcro on his sling.
"Tony, what-?" Pepper gets up and comes over, taking the sling before it falls to the floor.
He unbuttons his shirt with the two of them staring at him in amazement. It's not hard to feel a little bit like Superman when he pulls the two sides open so they can see the reactor more clearly.
"Oh, my God," Pepper whispers. "Is that… stuck? In your chest?"
He looks from her to Obie. At first, the man's intrigued, but then his expression shifts. Tony recognizes the look, because it's the same one Stane has always worn when Tony brought him a schematic, an improvement, an innovation.
Somewhere in the man's head, a voice is saying, How do we monetize this?
He'd spent years enjoying the process of earning that look in Stane's eyes, but today it's concerning.
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No one brings her dinner.
Honestly, that feels like a pathetic power play designed to force her to use her powers. The only thing Emory respects about the decision is that it seems like they actually do believe she won't try to escape anytime soon, so this is the best they can come up with.
Two hours later, after she'd spent time running the most annoying scales she could think of, knowing that someone is required to listen to them, the lights shut off. Without a window, there's no way to know whether it's actually dark, but she's been tired for hours anyway. The only things keeping her awake are the dual fears that she'll dream of Tony and generate power in her sleep unless she's fully exhausted, and the idea that they can manipulate her by exploiting her jet lag from the time difference. This isn't a military base, she's sure of it. She's back in the States.
Pushing away thoughts of Tony is harder when she's sleepy, but she does her best, and eventually drifts off.
Emory wakes up to a room darker than she's been in for at least three months. It's terrifying at first; the cave had always been lit, likely because the terrorists had needed to make sure they could always see the room, even though that hadn't stopped the escape, in the long run. The good thing about the room being dark now is that it gives her confirmation that there is indeed a hidden window. Across from her bed there's a 'closed bedroom door, illuminated hallway' effect along the whole wall, at the ceiling. The very darkness of the room makes this line of light obvious. It's exactly the sort of detail that is easy to miss. Who would bother checking the room at night, especially if you don't tell the people modifying the room the reason for its modification?
As she lays in the bed and stares at the evidence of a hidden window in her room, Emory almost feels like she's absorbed some of Tony's and Yinsen's situational intelligence. Again, she asks herself what Tony would do if he were in her place. The answer that comes to her is that he would seek to eliminate weaknesses and amplify strengths.
An obvious weakness is the IV, as is the surveillance. The three of them had never sought to block or destroy the cameras in the cave, because the consequences would have been too risky, with little to no reward. Here, Emory doubts she could reach them even if she could figure out where they were. Here, she'd spent a lot of her singing time changing positions on the bed so she could examine the walls for their location, but the drop ceiling has multiple stains and defects that could all be hiding cameras. In the dark, there are no discernible lights except for the red one over the door, and the green one at the badge scanner. She doesn't know much about surveillance technology, but assumes that if Tony can build a suit that can do all the things he'd managed in Afghanistan, it's likely that there are low-light/no-light surveillance cameras.
Then, it hits her. The IV is probably a test, by now, as they haven't put anything in it in many hours. They're probably waiting for her to pull it out herself, and noting how much time passes before she does so. If she takes it out now, and no one comes rushing in, that would reveal that her captors can't see her (or aren't watching at night, which is unlikely), wouldn't it? She could kill two birds with one stone, although Emory's always hated that particular phrase.
She wishes she had any light to go by, or extra tape, because it would be even better if she could pull out the IV and then tape it so it looked like it was still set up, but that's not feasible. Slowly, carefully, Emory tugs off one pantleg and presses its inside-out hem against the place where the IV goes into her arm. She won't be able to see if removing it gets really messy, but the scrubs she's dressed in are dark navy blue, and the hem is a full inch, the fabric doubled. It's as sneaky as she can be.
When she's satisfied that her arm isn't bleeding, Emory lets the tubing drop, puts her pants back on, and lays back in the bed, her heart pounding.
No one comes.
In her mind, she pictures Tony smiling at her. Emory rolls over with her back to the IV pole and gathers up the energy that simple thought has generated, tossing it up so that it ruffles her hair, just like the song she'd sung so many weeks before.
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Stane offers to hold a second presser with some rudimentary information, mostly what Rhodey's commanding officer has okayed about the rescue and Tony's arm injury. Obie tells him he'll even add something about Tony's experience in captivity, how he's concerned that by continuing Stark Industries' current path, he'll be doing what the terrorists wanted- namely, making more weapons, the use of which will cause more strife in the region.
It's an ingenious compromise, really. Obie's powers of persuasion and spin have always been legendary, even if he has acted like a corporate father (with all the selfish, capitalist behavior that naturally entails) rather than a surrogate one, to Tony. He even persuades Tony that any disparity between their messages today about Stark Industries and weapons is just a hint that things are moving so fast that no one should panic yet.
Tony hands off his sling and jacket to a guy in finance who has the same hair and build as he does and sneaks into Happy's car with Pepper.
The whole car is silent for the first five minutes, though Tony notes that Happy looks in the mirror to check on the two of them a lot, and Pepper's facial expression seems frozen into deep concern.
"So none of my letters got through?" he asks, feigning confusion to break the ice.
"You mean you got to write-" Pepper starts to say in a squeaky voice, before she realizes and stops talking. Happy chuckles, up front. "That's not nice. We were really worried, Tony."
"Yeah, so was I," he says, tipping his head back and sighing. "So who was the guy talking to you earlier? Looked like a government stiff?"
"Something like that, long department name, wanted to debrief you," she says, shaking her head. "We've gotten a ton of requests from basically every agency."
"Say yes if it's Health and Human Services, have you seen the new undersecretary? I think half of the Senate voted yes just so they could get to see her in the news more often," he teases. "Speaking of which, do you have my phone?" Tony tries to sound casual, but Pepper knows him, so she gives him a look. He wonders if she thinks he's trying to make up for lost time or if he's pretending to so he can con the phone out of her and start making changes at the company.
It's neither. He wants to ask Rhodey about Emory. Tony can't shake the feeling that the official who spoke to Pepper knows something about her. The phone he had in the Hum-Vee is gone, sure, but even his backups have backups.
"Did any of the other agencies send someone in person?" he asks her.
"No. I assume this guy is so junior that he didn't get out of the personal visit. You know, haze the new guy by sending him to ask to speak to Tony Stark," she says, offering him a sweet smile.
"Hmm." Tony looks out the window to see where they are. Almost home. "He give you his number?"
"Don't threaten him, okay? He was just doing his job."
"What, me? Threaten?" Tony feigns utter shock, which is successful, because Pepper starts to laugh. "No, seriously. I get a sense that I ought to talk to at least one out of the multitude. He showed up in person, that takes guts. Gimme."
Tony takes the way that Pepper allows herself to roll her eyes just a little when handing the business card over as a sign she's starting to adjust to his return. As Happy pulls up into the driveway, Tony sees the two of them make eye contact in the rearview, and decides to be magnanimous.
He waits till the car stops, and before Happy turns it off, he says, "Hey, so, it turns out I haven't been alone in about three months, so how about the two of you go expense a fancy dinner to my account tonight, give me a little space?"
Before either of them respond, Tony opens the door and gets out awkwardly, hampered by the arm injury. As usual, the door unlocks as he walks up, because JARVIS is always watching. He considers going up and laying on his bed, but angles toward his basement workshop instead.
He almost gets emotional when he settles into his chair for the first time and sees the three monitors flicker to life.
"Welcome back, sir. It's really good to see you home safe and sound."
"Good to hear your voice, JARVIS," Tony says. It really is. "Not sure about the 'sound' part, though."
"Yes, well. That was always somewhat in doubt, wasn't it?"
Tony breaks into a grin. "Damn straight." He grabs the mouse, opens up a search engine, and starts typing. "All right, I have a few directives, all of which are top priority, house on fire stuff."
"Ready and waiting for your instructions, sir."
"Good. First: Use any and all means, including illegal ones, to lock down the non-essential medical records of a Miss Emory Autumn for the next twenty-four hours. Be obvious. I want them to know it's me."
This is a gamble, because there's a tiny chance she's actually in some kind of a medical crisis and that's why there's been no word. After all, he has no legal right to know anything about her. Tony's sure that she's fine except for the abnormal test results which show evidence of her new abilities, however. They were rescued by US forces, and the US forces tested her blood, found out something interesting, and from that point, the woman he loves disappeared. He's not going to take that lying down, and he wants whoever has her to know it.
"Shall I also inform your lawyer that you may be brought up for charges sometime before the end of the year?"
"If you like, honey buns," Tony replies.
"Very well."
He's not going to pause for passive-aggressive reckoning from his artificial intelligence. "Second: I want a rolling notification on any and all instances of the name 'Emory Autumn' in all media, police band, and available military radio frequencies."
"Acknowledged. You should also know, sir, that in your absence, you have been upgraded to the latest version of cellular phone. Your previous backup has been copied over. The device is in its box in the drawer on your left."
"Thanks, J," Tony says, not reaching for it yet. He's got a search he's about to hit enter on, but he needs to collect his thoughts first, because they'll be scattered as soon as it populates. "Third: I need an intensive search on all airplane manifests, public and private, domestic and international, on the name 'Emory Autumn' for the last forty-eight hours. Use our codeword clearance to unlock the military manifests as well."
"That will ALSO merit attention from the government, do you still wish to proceed?"
"Yes," Tony says flatly, suppressing a smile. He loves it when JARVIS gets testy.
"Estimate thirty minutes for full access to military flights. I will send the rest of the results as they appear."
"Thanks," Tony says. He hits enter.
The three monitors display three different tabs' worth of search results on the name Emory Autumn. The middle one shows images. It hurts to see Emory and not know where she is. He clicks on one of the images, a candid red carpet photo that is focused on Rory Fall but shows Emory in a modest but stunning gown standing beside her. She looks gorgeous; her friend beside her is wearing something more expensive and flashier, but she looks gaudy and overdressed in comparison. Even Rory's hair looks dull next to Emory's, Tony observes.
"Damn," he says aloud, realizing. He's pining for this woman, loading up pictures of her like some weird kind of stalker. What he should be doing is finding out where the fuck she is. Tony gestures, and the picture magnifies on the screen. He has to stop himself from reaching out to touch it.
"Ms. Autumn was the person taken alongside you after the ambush in Afghanistan?"
"Yes." He doesn't elaborate. He doesn't want to know what words might spill out.
"She was listed on a military plane coming into New York yesterday, and an hour later on a flight from New York to Washington, D.C."
He'd suspected that Emory had been flown out before he was, and this is the confirmation. "D.C.? She lives in California! Get me Rhodes on the phone. Now."
Rhodey won't appreciate the pressure, but Tony owes it to his friend to start there before going over his head. And he's definitely going to go over Rhodey's head. He's going to raise hell until he finds out what the fuck is going on.
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Emory's been awake for an hour and a half and her stomach is growling when the light above the door flashes green and it opens. A man walks in. He's wearing an eye patch and a trenchcoat, and Emory suddenly wishes she had never gone to Afghanistan.
She's a fraud. A doormat. She can't see herself being strong enough to stand up to this man, and she never should have pretended like she wanted to.
She's terrified.
"You asked for the boss. Well, here I am," the man says. His voice is authoritative and compelling. Emory wishes she could fall through a trapdoor on the floor. She can't even risk thinking about Tony to make herself feel better, because that's just what this man wants her to do. "I see you've removed your IV."
"I see you've removed-" Emory starts to say, but before she can finish, her visitor holds up a hand.
"Careful."
"I think you have me mixed up with someone else, someone a lot more brave and ten times more disrespectful," Emory says, almost laughing. "I was going to say 'my food privileges,' for the record."
"Ah," the man says, frowning. "That has to do with a stunt your boyfriend pulled on us. He's figured out how to lock down your medical records, including allergies."
Emory feels a breeze ruffling her hair, knows its origins, but is nonetheless grateful for the unintentional confidence booster in the word 'boyfriend.' Tony's sabotaging them, in her defense. She could walk on air!
She… actually could. Emory gathers up the excess energy and, carefully, without moving her hands as she ordinarily would, she starts to mentally picture unraveling the ball of energy into a ribbon and tossing it along the floor, hopefully to butt against the fake wall that covers the window and maybe dislodge it a little.
At the same time as she releases the burst of energy, Emory says, "You couldn't feed me bread and water in the meantime? Or maybe a Dixie cup of water and a vending machine egg salad sandwich would be more situationally appropriate?"
The energetic ball of air strikes the wall with a thump at the same time she says 'Dixie cup.' To his credit, the man in the trenchcoat turns his head slowly to look behind him, and then turns back to fix her with a penetrating look.
"Did you do that?"
"If you mean, 'did I build a fake wall to cover up the fact that the room has a window,' no, sir, I did not," Emory says. She's grateful that she's sitting in the bed with her hands in her lap, because she's able to clench her hands tightly around the sheet covering her legs, hopefully without looking like she's desperately holding onto her sanity.
"I see," the man says, with gravitas she'll never be able to accomplish. "Let me start over. My name is Nick Fury. You have information that I need to know. I have information that you need to know. I feel certain we can come to an understanding."
"What's in it for me?" she asks, once again channeling Tony.
"Those injections are killing you."
Note: So I've finally worked out the plot kinks when it comes to where this is going, and you'll be happy to hear that what I've come up with guarantees that this is part 1 of a series. I'm envisioning this story ending with a somewhat nervous but satisfying ending, a slight cliffhanger, followed by novella that covers Iron Man 2 and Emory's firm establishment as a superhero, followed by a longer story that will cover Avengers 1.
This will be a different start to the MCU, one that involves Emory, Sharon Carter, an earlier bringing in of Bruce Banner, discovering SHIELDRA early, etc. I woke up one morning and realized what to do, and realized that it has widened the scope of this story to something HUGE. I'm excited AF!