AN - I have to say, thank you so much for the feedback on the recent chapter. A big reason for the over focus on the Wards has been primarily my doing to help keep the number of characters in check along with allowing me time to develop some of the characters a little.
I have checked the Jericho Missile Demonstration, Tony did meet with an Afghan National Army Officer in addition to General Sullivan, a four star general in the USAF. There was also a member of the Marine Corps at the demonstration as well.
Also, this was my first time writing a PTSD-fueled nightmare and its aftermath, if it's not great then I am sorry.
Settling In - 2.2
Tony Stark
The hot Middle Eastern sun bore down on an area not far from Bagram Air Force Base in Kunar Province Afghanistan, the temperature was mild by local standards, a mere 90-degrees in the late hour. But then again, that was Afghanistan for you, it got hot as hell even during the late winter, early spring.
Tony looked at his watch, it would soon be time for his demonstration of the Jericho Missile, the weapon itself had either its own stand alone launcher, as was being showcased here, or could be integrated into the standard six-pack launcher of the M270 MLRS and M142 HIMARS. The missile was revolutionary compared to previous rockets like the M26 and M30 rockets that could be used by those systems.
The Jericho itself was revolutionary because it had the reach of the extended range rockets while being considerably shorter, closer to eight feet in length compared to the 13-feet of length for the existing extended range rockets. This meant that not only could the Jericho be used by the M270 and M142, but they could be carried by a properly designed two-axle trailer that could be towed by Humvee or used by a specialized variant of the Humvee. This drastic shortening was possible precisely because of the Repulsor Technology, it was simply put, a revolution.
But the good news didn't end there, not in the slightest. Multiple variants of the Jericho had been designed, not only were there the traditional DPICM and Unitary warheads that existing 227mm rockets had, there was a new warhead variant that could allow for more expressive carnage. The missile could carry eighteen individually propelled and guided bomblets which also used repulsor technology and thanks to the complex devices within them, all eighteen of them could burst with the force of up to three tons of TNT or as little as 250-pounds of TNT.
The individual warheads could also burrow through almost twenty meters of earth or five meters of concrete before exploding. The Jericho could well and truly change how the United States Armed Forces could use rocket artillery to a significant degree. The variable yield nature of the MIRV warhead combined with its bunker-busting capabilities meant that a single M270 could throw out a blanket of hell and fury that had a yield of over a half-kiloton when used at maximum yield.
With firepower like that at your disposal and the fact that a single battery had nine such launchers. Jericho offered to the United States a way to deploy firepower equal to tactical nuclear weapons without any of the nasty after effects like fallout.
If this demonstration went well and they got a sufficiently large contract. He would greenlight the enlarged ATACM version, slimmer than the current ATACM but with the same warhead and guidance package options as well as, naturally, nuclear options.
Indeed, Jericho was in many ways, the pinnacle of his ideal that you should be both feared and respected. He just hoped that the three different USAF generals, plus his friend Colonel James Rhodes would be impressed by the missile. He had a sinking feeling that they would most certainly like it, but if he could get the Afghans on side, well…that would just be the cherry on top then wouldn't it?
If the Afghan Army could be convinced to buy the Jericho, the Taliban wouldn't be able to make due on their promise that they would reclaim the country when the Americans left. That would certainly be something for sure, it would make them look like fools and monkeys. Besides, the planned Afghanistan Republic would be a much better government than the Taliban could ever be.
But soon the appointed hour came, Tony smiled as he took his place. He took a breath then he began his speech. "Is it better to be feared or respected? And I say: "Is it too much to ask for both?" With that in mind, I humbly present the crown jewel of Stark Industries' Freedom Line. It's the first missile system to incorporate our proprietary Repulsor Technology. They say the best weapon is one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree; I prefer... the weapon you only need to fire once. That's how Dad did it, that's how America does it... and it's worked out pretty well so far." he gestured to the trailer with the three Jericho missiles on it. "Find an excuse to let one of these babies off the chain and I personally guarantee you that the bad guys won't even want to come out of their caves."
With that he gave a very simple gesture to the operator of the Jericho launcher. The rack came to life, slewing around and elevating as it brought the missiles to the optimal firing position. There was a low whine as the trailer's APU fed power into the missile to jumpstart the repulsor and then, with an echoing shriek, a plume of gold-white fire blasted from the nozzle, the missile left the rack with the speed of lance thrown by an angry god. A double-shockwave rolled over them as the missile went supersonic inside two seconds, it streaked down range with incredible speed.
The missile reached the apex of its climb and then began to descend towards the ridgeline, roughly twelve klicks distant; he couldn't see the missile fragment and launch its eighteen individually guided munitions and thus would know when they would impact. But he had already calculated in his head when to best say his final part.
"For your consideration…" he stated, spreading his hands out wide. "The Jericho."
Three seconds later, the thunderclap from detonations roared over, a heavy rumbling boom of noise. He had to resist the urge to laugh as the shockwave grabbed Rhodey's and General Sullivan's combo covers and sent them flying with trivial ease.
That said, the exclamations from the sound was quite impressive, truly he knew that he was doing good work. He was bringing peace to the world through the application of superior firepower. But despite the conversation that he was hearing between the various USAF, US Army, and USMC officers that had attended the demonstration, he heard what sounded like interesting talks between the Afghan National Army officers as they discussed the missile.
He couldn't help but allow a small smile. Oh yeah, it seemed like Stark Industries would have a new paying customer in regards to buying shiny things that went boom. With a proud swagger in his gait, he walked up to the wet bar which opened thanks to the motion sensor, revealing the tub of ice, wine glasses, a pair of nice wines, and his own glass of scotch. "I am going to be including one of these in every purchase of five hundred million or more. It's a piece." Tony said as he reached into his pocket with a free hand and dug out his phone which had started buzzing.
Tony couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the number, it was Obi. He ran the math in his head, it was roughly 1:30pm or so going by the local time. Thus it was well past Midnight in California, so what the hell was he still doing up then?
Answering the call, Obi's basso voice immediately began with "Tony?"
"Obi, what are you doing up?" Tony questioned, Obidah also didn't appear to be wearing a shirt and seemed to be in bed.
"I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to hear how the demonstration went." Obi replied in a smooth tone and Tony grinned.
"It went great, I have a feeling that Christmas is going to be coming early this year." Tony announced eagerly, if he really had succeeded in getting the Afghan National Army on side for this, then things were going very well indeed.
"Hey, way to go my boy! I'll see ya tomorrow ya?" Obi articulated.
"I will, so why aren't you wearing those pajamas I sent ya?" Tony questioned.
Obi shook his head. "Goood night, Tony." he drew out with a smirk.
Resisting the urge to shake his head, Tony ended the call as he smiled back. Oh yeah, today was a damn good day. He climbed into the humvee, giving a pleasant nod to the Lance Corporal holding the door open as he did so. The door slammed shut with a reverberating bang.
"Hey Tony!" he heard his best friend, Rhodey say.
Smiling, he stuck his head out the window. "I am sorry this is the funvee. The humdrumvee is back there." he proclaimed, gesturing with his head to another humvee behind them as with a rumble, the funvee's engine turned over.
Rhodey returned the smile. "Nice job," he replied.
Tony nodded. "I'll see you back at the base."
Rhodey walked out of sight and with a thunk, the driver shifted the Humvee into gear and it ground away. The trip was going to take a few hours to get back to base and from there, a few more hours on his private jet back to the United States. Then he would have to take at least a day or two off in order to get over the jetlag and then it would be back to the daily grind.
He shrugged, eh, he could handle it. But first he had to handle a ride in the funvee in the middle of nowhere back to Bagram AFB with people who on the ride out had been stoic in the extreme. At least they had AC/DC to help pass the time.
AC/DC - Back in Black
Track Six - Back in Black
Play
The convoy ground along the dirt road in the middle of nowhere as they headed to someplace else as the boombox in the Humvee blasted out Back in Black.
The road wasn't that great either, it was rough and not particularly even. However, AM General had done a decent job with the suspension because his scotch wasn't going everywhere even if the ice was rattling constantly. That being said, his present company wasn't particularly interesting.
If anything, they were being stoic in the extreme, again. Tony looked around the funvee and resisted the urge to sigh. Talk about boring, maybe he could try and spice it up some?
"I feel like you're driving me to a court martial, what did I do?" he asked and got no answer.
Might as well try a different approach then. "I feel like you're going to pullover and snuff me," he stated before continuing. "What, you're not allowed to talk?"
He looked at the young kid sitting next to him, his name tag said 'Forest' on it. "Hey Forest?" he questioned.
"We can talk sir." Forest replied.
"I see, so it's personal?" he asked aloud.
"No, you intimidate them." the woman driving the funvee answered, well, that was unexpected.
"Good God, you're a woman!" Tony exclaimed, receiving a look from the two other guys in the funvee. The guy in the passenger seat was smirking as if he had seen that coming, Forest though looked mortified.
"I honestly couldn't have called that, I mean, I would apologize but isn't that what we're going for here? I thought I would be with soldiers first." Tony said and he got the impression that the woman was smiling.
"I am an airman." she responded.
Tony paused for a moment before answering. "Well, you, you actually have excellent bone structure there. I am having a hard time not looking at you now, is that weird?"
Laughter echoed through the funvee and Tony couldn't help but grin. That broke the ice. He thought eagerly as the humvee continued prowling along the dirt road.
"Come on, it's okay to laugh." Tony said and Forest began to laugh. "Hey!"
The lyrics of Back in Black continued in the background, great music in Tony's personal opinion. One of his favorite songs really.
The soldier in the passenger seat turned to face him. "Sir, I-I have a question."
Tony tilted his head lightly. "Yes, please?"
"Is it true that you went twelve-for-twelve with last year's Maxim cover models?" he asked, making an up and down motion with his hand..
Tony smiled. "That is an excellent question." he proclaimed, taking his glasses off in the process. "Yes and no. March and I had a scheduling conflict but fortunately the Christmas cover was twins." he said, smiling at the memory as he leaned back, the airmen around him grinned.
"Anything else?" he asked the airmen.
Slowly, almost timidly raised his hand as if he had a question and they were in school.
"You're kidding me, with the hand up." Tony deadpanned.
"Is it alright if I take a picture with you?" He asked nervously.
The billionaire smiled. "Yes, it's very cool."
Forest quickly dug something out of one of the various pouches that he was carrying. A digital camera, who he handed to the man in the passenger seat. He then eagerly scooted over and Tony met him in the middle.
"I don't want to see this on your Myspace page." Tony said as Forest did a peace sign.
Tony decided to mess with him. "Please, no gang signs."
Forest looked down.
"No, just kidding, put it up." Tony said, reversing his decision and Forest grinned like a loon.
"Yeah, peace, I love peace. I would be out of a job with peace." Tony said.
Camera guy seemed to be fiddling with the camera.
"Come on, come on." Forest was saying.
Camera guy was shaking his head and saying something that was barely audible over the lyrics of Back In Black.
"Click it man, just click it. Don't mess with any of the settings, ju-"
BOOM
The humvee in front of them had an explosion go off below it, the vehicle was ripped apart in an instant, flames roiling into the sky as debris and parts of bodies flew in all directions, the wreckage coming to a halt.
Almost immediately, the driver stomped on the brakes.
Bang, bang. Debris, pieces of twisted metal from the humvee landed on the funvee, causing the vehicle to shake.
Holy shit was the first thing that came to mind as gunfire rippled through the air, it took him a moment to recognize what he was hearing and that the convoy was under attack.
"What happened!" he demanded, he couldn't really hear his own words.
"CONTACT LEFT!" the driver screamed as shells started landing, plumes of dirt and dust were being thrown into the air.
"FIDO! FIDO! Get us out of this kill box!" the camera guy roared.
There was another explosion behind them, bullets pinged off the funvee, a horrific sound like high velocity gravel impacting steel. "FUCK! I can't reverse, they just took out the humvee behind us!"
"Shit! Dismount! Jimmy, keep the VIP safe." The camera guy shouted as more gunfire opened up, lighter American made weapons. Almost immediately there was a heavy ka-chonk-chonk-chonk as the Brownings roared their fury at the militants who were firing at them.
The driver kicked open her door and got out, her boots had just hit the ground when crimson sprayed across the funvee. She crumpled, shrieking in agony, the sound was a noise that by all accounts shouldn't be able to be produced by a human throat. It echoed in Tony's ears as she died.
"Crap! Jimmy, stay with the VIP!" the camera guy said as he threw open the door after grabbing his rifle.
Jimmy pushed him as low as he could as more bullets pinged off the humvee, that horrible gravel on metal sound echoing through the cabin. "Keep your head down!" the kid ordered him, he sounded terrified.
Tony's gaze met Jimmy's eyes as the camera guy opened fire - the cracking of that rifle was horrifically loud to the playboy's ears. "Shit!" he swore.
A rocket shrieked past and Tony cocked his head. That had sounded like a Stark Industries Hammerhead Missile, how in the hell had the terrorist bastards shooting at them gotten their hands on one of those?
The missile exploded nearby, a heavy thunderclap of noise along with whistling from shrapnel going through the air. Jimmy was frantically trying to do something with his rifle, what Tony didn't know. "Damn thing is jammed." he snapped out angrily.
Outside Camera Guy was still firing, his M4 carbine rattling out a steady drumbeat.
Crump. The bulletproof glass in the windshield cratered when a round detonated nearby as the funvee shook from the impacts.
I am going to die here. Was all that Tony could think of as the world descended further and further into chaos around him.
He looked out the windshield, camera guy was still pounding away with his rifle and was doing a good job of retu-
His head exploded, bone, blood, and brain matter flying in all directions.
"Holy shit!" Tony chirped in shock as the decapitated corpse toppled backwards, the M4 rifle falling from slack hands. For some reason, the way that the rifle fell stuck in Tony's mind with how it tumbled from the corpse until it was out of sight.
"Sonavuabitch!" Jimmy shouted as finally chi-chack, his rifle chambered and then he opened the door, dove out of the funvee and slammed it closed.
I need to help somehow, I don't want to go down without a fight. "Hey, wait!" He called after the man. "Gimme a gun!"
Jimmy shook his head. "Stay here!" he exclaimed.
He turned, took a step.
BOOM!
Tony blinked his eyes as this horrible ringing filled his ears, hundreds of glittering shafts of sunlight were suddenly pouring into the passenger cabin. The window that Jimmy had just been speaking to him through was painted an ugly crimson.
He wanted to throw up then and there as an ugly smell hit his nostrils. Corpse stink, the smell of shit from voided or ruptured bowels. He was vaguely aware of pain in his arms and legs, light gashes had simply appeared and were oozing blood. I need to get out of this thing, and call for help. He realized and with that he kicked open the door and stepped out into the hot dusty air.
The air was thick with the smell of cordite, burning fuel and oil, and death. He gagged at the smells that assaulted his senses.
The gunfire which had been muted was now so much louder. He staggered away from the funvee as he looked over the rest of the convoy. What he saw was horrifying, burning vehicles were everywhere, as were the corpses of American service members. He thought back to what he thought had been the Stark Industries Hammerhead Missile.
He feared that it had been a Hammerhead, which meant that he was partially responsible for this slaughter.
An explosion nearby forced him to regain his wits and he dashed to a rocky outcropping, frantically digging in his pocket for his phone. The rock wasn't comfortable but it provided cover from the chaos around him.
Bullets vroomped past him, a sound like bees in his ears. His phone was in his hands, he flicked it open. Pepper, he needed to call Pepper.
Dialing frantically, he almost finished putting in the number.
Thump.
Tony looked in the direction of the sound and there, several meters away, emblazoned boldly with Stark Industries on its side was a Hammerhead missile. In that instant, he felt nothing but despair, he was responsible in part for the deaths of these American service members. He had greenlit the Hammerhead to be produced, a cheap surface-to-surface missile with range similar to the Hellfire and a decent payload.
Then he realized that despite this thing looking like a showroom piece that you would see at an Expo, it had a live warhead. He scrambled to his feet, shouting in alarm as he began to step back, he succeeded in taking all of two steps before the missile detonated.
The shockwave picked him up and tossed him backwards two meters with effortless ease, he landed flat on his back. There was a horrible pain in his chest, he tried to sit up, but the agony there kept from doing so. He undid the buttons to his dress shirt, the white stained crimson by, by blood revealing his ballistic vest which had been perforated by shrapnel. He slumped back, he was a dead man.
The gunfire continued to rattle, the explosions continued, but he was dead. It was only a matter of time now. He was responsible for this and now he was going to end up shot or worse.
The sun burned down on the site of the battle unflinchingly. The sound of rotors or engines didn't tear apart the sky, no angels roared down from the heavens on high. Instead the gunfire and explosions ebbed away to nothing and eventually the sound of boots on dirt filled his ears as the terrorists abandoned their positions to sweep through the convoy.
Single shots sounded every so often as those who hadn't been outright killed tried to fight back now that the enemy was much closer. He had been responsible for this. He was responsible for all of these men and women getting killed by the very systems he had designed to protect them.
A pair of figures appeared in his field of view, he couldn't make them out but they were holding rifles. They were talking, discussing, one briefly shouldered his rifle before it was pushed back down with a firm English "No."
Hands reaching for him.
No! No! He would rather die than go through the hell that had been the surgery that had saved his life again. He lashed out with his fist and one of them staggered backwards and grunted in pain.
Again they reached and again he struck out, shouting defiance at them this time. One of them staggered shaking their head in response and reached out again.
"MISTER STARK WAKE UP!"
"MISTER STARK WAKE UP!"
Tony awoke with a shout in a cold sweat and frantically threw his gaze around the room. At some point while he'd been having The Nightmare, he had tumbled out of bed and gotten tangled in his sheets, before managing to get an arm clear.
Standing over him, nursing a fairly solid bruise across her jaw was an olive skinned woman with dark hair and bottle green eyes. It took him a moment to connect the dots as to where he was.
PRT HQ, protective custody quarters.
It took him a few more moments to connect the additional dots over who was standing over him. "Ugh, Miss Militia?" he stated groggily as he sat up, thankful that he hadn't gotten to the surgery that had left him with the electromagnet in his chest. That part always woke him up screaming or running to the toilet to empty the contents of his stomach.
She nodded. "Yes, it's me. Are you alright Mister Stark?" she asked.
"Fuck, no. I just had that damn Nightmare for the first time in close to a year." Tony said with a sob his voice quivering, one of the things he had done after he had returned to the United States was learn the names of every single service member who had been killed in the ambush that had seen him captured and held hostage.
He sighed and came up to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes and trying to control his racing heart.
Miss Militia sat down next to him. "What was it about?" she inquired slowly.
"Why do you want to know?" He rebuked defensively.
The heroine shook her head. "If you don't want to talk about it, I won't press."
"T-thanks." Tony said softly, but then he remembered the words that he had told Sophia a few hours previously. "Actually, do you mind if I tell you then?" he asked, he didn't have a connection to his usual support system and thus he likely needed to build a new one.
Miss Militia shrugged. "Sure, I am not a therapist, but well, more than one Ward has said that my willingness to lend an ear has always made them feel better after a fight went bad with civilians getting caught in the crossfire."
Tony let his shoulders slump, relief pouring through his system and then he realized what Miss Militia had said, with a slight smirk he asked. "Does that mean they sometimes call you Mom Militia?"
The look of incredulity that Miss Militia gave him was hysterical and caused him to give a small snort of laughter. Then she sighed and face-palmed. "Not to my knowledge." she groaned out as she shook her head some. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it's an unofficial nickname, better than what my nickname on PHO is, MM."
Tony's reaction was to be expected. "Regular or Peanut?"
Miss Militia scowled but the expression was ruined by the slight up-turning of her lips and what sounded like a restrained snort of laughter. "That's the first time someone ever put it like that. For the record, I like both."
Tony snorted and then looked at the time, little past four in the morning, he groaned, it was in that dreaded timeslot. It was too early to be up but too late to go back to sleep. Great, just fantastic. Particularly considering that today he had several long meetings regarding how he got zapped from Earth Yod to Earth Bet, about SHIELD, about the Avengers, about the Battle of New York, all things considered it was not going to be a fun day.
"Any particularly embarrassing nicknames that you've gained over the course of your time as a hero?" Miss Militia asked him in response.
"Not to my knowledge, though Jarvis usually keeps track of that sort of thing and he only informs me of them if I ask him. That's not to say that I've been the progenitor for more than one meme. Probably the most notable is the 'I've successfully privatized world peace' one." Tony replied in a conversational tone.
Miss Militia shook her head. "Honestly, most heroes create at least one meme over the course of their careers, I've probably created more than most given how long I've been a cape."
"How long has that been?"
"Twenty-two, almost twenty-three years by this point."
Still, the conversation and its topic thus far had managed to break the ice. "Way longer than I have been a hero. I just wish that the circumstances that resulted in me becoming a hero were different." Tony admitted.
"I can understand that trigger events are never easy, usually the worst damn day of your life as well." Miss Militia said in a tone that could be considered haunted and Tony shook his head.
"Considering that I never gained any whacky powers on what I consider to be the worst day of my life, I don't think I did trigger. But it was pretty horrific all things considered." Tony replied as the faces and the names of those who had died went through his mind.
And with that, he explained his story. From how it started from a simple enough weapon demonstration in Afghanistan and how due to the machinations of someone he considered to be practically a brother, it turned into three months of hell. Thanks to the efforts of one man, an Afghan-Chinese doctor named Yinsen, he not only survived but managed to escape from captivity but had, with the man's dying words, turned his whole life around.
Miss Militia was a good listener, she asked questions every so often and provided comfort when he needed it during his retelling of what had led to him becoming Iron Man. It was something that, by the end, he was in a much better position emotionally. He knew that today was likely going to be a challenge emotionally - but he had dealt with those before.
He said his thanks to Miss Militia, got up and went to go get ready for his day - it was undoubtedly going to be a long one.