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Chapter 7

Five days after the unexpected visit of the terrorists, Tony's arm was still in a sling. His shoulder hurt, and Tony didn't dare move it much.

"You're only human," Pepper used to say every time he complained about how long it took to recover from such an injury.

The far more annoying things were the constant headaches that came with the concussion. They would last for a while, Romanoff had predicted, talking to him once again after the entire property had been inspected. In fact, by now the agents had really made themselves more invisible and, to Tony's great relief, did not set foot in the house. They kept watch outside and followed him in a separate car when he left the property.

Despite Tony's injuries, Pepper could not be persuaded to cancel the meetings that were so numerous. Right now, they were on their way back home from an extremely long appointment.

"You didn't even need a doctor, so I don't see a reason why you can't work," she had said, and he had understood the pointed remark.

Tony looked out the window of the Rolls Royce. It had been raining all day and therefore was a little chilly. The streets of Los Angeles were busy; it was rush hour. Happy presented them one curse after another about those "fucking incompetent wannabe drivers from the extra fast squad" and Pepper, sitting in the back next to Tony, gave him a reproving look each time, which Tony noted with quiet amusement.

Tony still didn't have a clear concept of where the company would go from here. He wanted to target energy technologies, but he hadn't given much thought to implementing them so far. A decision was needed, but he felt blocked. His head was full of so many other things that seemed far more important to him. And potential investors were astonishingly quickly satisfied when they heard words like "energy turnaround," "environmentally friendly," "modern technologies," and "high turnover."

A little later, they were back in Tony's mansion. While pouring himself a cup of coffee, Tony listened to Pepper's and Happy's still unfinished argument, which must have started after running the first red light ("Orange! It was definitely still orange, Pepper! Maybe you should make an appointment with an ophthalmologist!").

"...shameful to act like that, Happy! What has gotten into you?"

"If that woman hadn't been so fat, she would have made it faster across the street!"

"The woman wasn't fat, she was pregnant!"

"She brought this on herself, didn't she? There should be an extra crosswalk for people like that."

"You're terrible! Why did you have to honk at her sixteen times?! Like we were in a hurry!"

"Mr. Stark is always in a hurry!"

"Sixteen times, Happy! She used the crosswalk, which, by the way, is her right!"

"She did take extra time to provoke me!"

"And why do you think she did, given your behavior?"

"So you admit -"

"Sixteen times!"

"Oh, come on. Sixteen, my ass! Why do you always have to exaggerate like that!"

"No, sixteen is quite right. I had fun with counting," Tony corrected him, taking a sip of hot coffee as he amusedly enjoyed the show the two of them were putting on for him.

"Of course, now people are taking sides!," Happy exclaimed sourly, giving Tony a quick evil glance. "Pepper Perfect Potts is right as usual!"

"This isn't about being right, it's about morality and decency!"

"Ah, please, spare me..."

Tony couldn't suppress a quiet laugh as he watched the two of them. Poor Happy, he thought, there was no way to win such an argument with Pepper.

"I'm just wondering what your problem is," Pepper shouted, both arms up in the air and gesticulating wildly.

"I don't have a problem!," Happy shouted, also already looking like he was ready to attack. "You're the one making a fuss here!"

"Me? You're the one with the fuss -"

That was as far as they got, as Jarvis interrupted them.

"Mr. Stark, in Los Angeles, outside Griffith Observatory, a self-proclaimed member of the Ten Rings is holding a young boy hostage. He has not made a single demand so far. I suspect, therefore, that he is waiting for you."

Silence fell. Happy and Pepper reflexively looked in his direction. Tony stood there silent for a moment, then he was off to his workshop, tearing the sling from his arm as he ran.

Only minutes later, the city of Los Angeles stretched out below him. Rain pelted his armor with a metallic sound as he flew toward Griffith Park. He tried to ignore the pain in his shoulder and focused on getting to his destination as quickly as possible. And then, immediately on the observatory ground, he saw a group of over a hundred people standing in a semicircle around two more people, the suspected terrorist and the child. There were Police cars with flashing lights in the middle of the crowd and he could make out cops pointing guns at the terrorist.

Tony landed inside the circle at a safe distance. Five police officers were right next to him with their weapons raised, visibly nervous. The terrorist was clearly holding some kind of detonator, and Tony noted with an uneasy feeling that a strap with a small bag of explosives was tied around the boy's chest.

"Jarvis?," Tony muttered.

"A remote detonator, Sir," Jarvis explained, who immediately had understood Tony's request. "If the terrorist releases the button, the charge explodes. He has to hold it down permanently."

The people behind Tony all seemed to sigh in relief because of his presence, some of them were enthusiastically calling his name.

"Hello Iron Man," the terrorist also shouted.

Tony tried to analyze the situation. This had something to do with him, but what role had he been assigned by the Ten Rings?

"What do you want?," Tony asked, not taking his eyes off the boy. He could hardly be older than twelve. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks; he was too frightened to make any sound. The terrorist held him by the hair, grinning maliciously.

"What do you want?!," Tony shouted again.

"Nothing, really," the terrorist shouted, laughing.

What? Fear washed over Tony, what's that supposed to mean?

"We simply want to see you suffer, Stark, that's all. And you will suffer, my friend, you will."

Tony raised his hand in reply and his repulsor charged menacingly.

"You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?," the man said, holding up the detonator. "One false move and I'll blow his heart out of his chest."

"Jarvis," Tony muttered. "What kind of detonator is this?"

"Hard to analyze from distance. It's likely to be a low-explosive device placed right at this boy's heart. So when this man says he's going to blow his heart out of his chest, I'm afraid he does mean it literally, Sir."

"And if I just knock him out now?"

"Then he'll let go of the button and the bomb explodes."

Tony lowered his hand again.

"Good boy," the terrorist sneered, pushing the kid slightly away from him.

"Let him go!," Tony shouted without much hope. "I thought this is about me!"

"It is. So don't worry. Nothing will happen to the kid if you do what I tell you: take off that armor."

"What?"

The crowd was suddenly completely quiet. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

"Take off that armor. You have ten seconds until I release the button."

Tony stared at him. Was he kidding? If he stepped out of the suit, the terrorist would kill him instantly. Maybe even by an accomplice, somewhere in the crowd behind him.

"You know I won't do that. You'll kill me if I take it off."

"And what if I give you my word that you won't die today?"

"Then I wouldn't believe you, of course!"

"We still want the suit. Without your armor, you are nothing more than human. Without your armor, you are nothing. We don't care about you."

Tony thought feverishly for a way out. What should he do? He didn't believe a word the terrorist said. He had angered Raza too much not to care. Or was it really all about Iron Man? But he wouldn't give up his armor either.

"You have my word that you will not die today. Besides, you don't have a choice - or do you want everyone here to see how cowardly you rather let the kid die than just take off your armor? I'm counting... ten... nine..."

Tony broke out in a sweat. Whatever he was going to do now would be wrong. And the people around him would be witnesses. Was that what this was all about, perhaps?

"Six... five..."

"Don't do that, Mr. Stark!," one of the police officers beside him shouted.

"And what about the child?," a policewoman next to him asked.

Tony's hand wandered to a small notch on the side of his suit. He hesitated.

"Three..."

"Sir, I have to point out to you that this idea is -," Jarvis said.

"No time for that," Tony said, pulling the notch.

The armor opened and Tony stepped out. The people behind him shouted excitedly.

The policemen stepped closer to him and the policewoman who had just spoken to him stood in front of him. He felt instant affection for this woman and her courage.

"Good day, Tony Stark," the terrorist greeted him again. "It's much more polite that way, isn't it?"

Tony was silent. He was gripped by fear. He felt naked and helplessly exposed, as if on a platter. It was the rain to be enough to show him that nothing stood between him and the outside world anymore. Nothing was any longer between him and some bullet that was now so easy to fire at him.

"You still have my word. I won't kill you."

This did little to reassure Tony. He didn't even have a weapon anymore.

"So," the terrorist shouted louder, so everyone could hear him. "Iron Man couldn't help you today! So let's see if Tony Stark can."

Tony clenched his hands into fists. Whatever would happen now, he was afraid that it wouldn't end well. Because it simply couldn't.

And Tony suddenly understood. He had been lured here for one purpose only. To fail. To show the world that Iron Man could fail, and to show that without Iron Man, Tony Stark was nothing more than an ordinary insignificant man with no superpowers.

"You have no idea how much Raza hates you," the terrorist said more quietly, so that only the front rows could hear. Then he spoke louder again.

"Tony Stark gets thirty seconds to take the belt off this innocent kid. Doesn't sound too hard, does it?"

Tony was standing maybe fifteen feet away from him; that couldn't be a good sign, this was too easy. Would the bomb explode if he took it off? Jarvis at least had told him that the explosive power was low, probably too low to hurt him if he approached the boy. He'd need a closer look at the explosives to decide how to take it off. But would thirty seconds be enough?

"What's the catch?," he asked, trying to play for time.

The terrorist shrugged and grinned.

"Thirty... twenty-nine... twenty-eight..."

"Mr. Stark...," the policewoman said, giving him an alarmed look. "Don't go. It has to be a trap."

But Tony sprinted off, past her outstretched arm. He heard them shouting behind him. But he had no choice. With each step he got closer to the boy, who had his arms outstretched pleadingly for him.

Tony reached him after about ten seconds. Then there was a loud bang. The boy fell toward him, Tony caught him and went down on his knees with him. The boy's mouth was open in a silent scream, blood running from a circular wound on his forehead, clearly a bullet hole; the boy's eyes were widened in shock. He was dead. Tony's gaze immediately slid to the little boy's chest. The explosive device was intact.

No...

Tony raised his head and looked at the terrorist, who still held the detonator in his hand. The terrorist opened his coat and another, larger explosive device was revealed. The detonator was apparently intended for this belt. That meant the boy had been shot by someone on the outside.

Sirens sounded, announcing more police.

"You have no idea how much Raza hates you," the terrorist repeated, but now there was also some fear in his eyes. He was obviously preparing for what he was about to do.

Police officers were now storming the square, guns pointed at the terrorist, but it was too late anyway. Tony wasted no more time. He picked up the child and ran, away from the terrorist.

The next moment, a huge explosion shook the earth. Meter-high flames burst in all directions. Reflexively, Tony raised his arms to protect himself but, caught by the blast wave, he flew and crashed backwards into the windshield of a car.

The pressure crashed against his body in such a way that all air was forced out of his lungs. Shards of glass rained down on him. From one second to the next, it was dead silent.

With a sudden rush of panic, he feared the last day of this world had come, but then the earth went through another shake, accompanied by bloodcurdling screams.

Tony dared not to look at anything but the gray, rainy sky, which was increasingly obscured by thick, black clouds of smoke. It was heavily humming around him, so he covered his ears. Astonished, he had to realize that it made no difference. The humming seemed to be stuck directly in his head.

The thick cloud of smoke made Tony cough. He tried to sit up. Splinters were crunching dully under him, cutting into his flesh. He didn't feel anything.

Tony wondered if he was in shock. He could dimly see several figures lying on the ground, many of whom also seemed to be wandering without an aim.

Carefully, he braced himself with his hands and slowly slid off the car as more glass shards cut into his skin. His feet reached the ground, he shifted his weight slightly forward - and slumped. Tony's legs immediately gave way, and he didn't even have a chance to break the fall with his arms.

For a moment it went dark around him.

Screams, cries, sirens - unspeakable noise. The darkness gave way to a gruesome scenario. Tony lay on his stomach, head turned sideways. He could still see people through the smoke. Some were screaming, whether from pain or shock was unclear.

With all the strength he had left to muster, Tony straightened up while coughing. He held onto the police car in whose windshield he apparently had landed. Dazed, he paused and continued coughing, his lungs burning.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Stark."

Tony looked through the smoke, trying to comprehend what had happened.

"Stark," the voice repeated, tightening its grip on his shoulder. "Come this way."

He let himself be led away. The smoke cleared. Flashing lights appeared. Police and ambulances were on the square. Some people already appeared to be receiving medical attention.

"Get in the car."

Tony turned his head. Only now did he notice Agent Romanoff, who had led him to a black Cadillac. She opened the rear car door.

"Get in," she repeated.

She gave Tony a gentle shove as he did not respond. Tony sat down in the back of the car and looked at Romanoff in confusion.

"Stay in here. We'll take care of the rest."

She slammed the door and suddenly it was dark through the tinted windows.

He still could hear people screaming. Did more people die? Besides the boy?

He tried to sort his thoughts. He had done what the terrorist had asked for, and the kid had died anyway. And who knows who else? Neither Iron Man nor Tony Stark had been able to do anything against a single man. A child had died. Because Raza had wanted to hurt him. It was so unfair.

The passenger door opened, and Agent Romanoff sat down in the car. She turned to him and immediately put on an annoyed face.

"Are you hurt?," she asked in a harsh tone, lowering her eyes to his hands, which were covered in blood.

"I... I don't know," Tony answered honestly.

"Okay. We'll get you checked as soon as we can leave the place."

Romanoff seemed to control herself only with difficulty. She repeatedly opened her mouth and then closed it again. Finally, it did burst out of her.

"What were you thinking, taking off that suit?!," she exclaimed loudly. "It's a miracle you're even sitting here in front of me now!"

Tony just looked at her, unable to speak. He was still trying to understand what just had happened. The shock was intense and deep-seated in every part of his body.

"Did you really think they would give you any chance? Are you tired of living?!"

Tony lowered his eyes, still unable to speak. Romanoff seemed to realize he was in shock, because she abruptly changed her tone and looked at him almost gently.

"No matter what you would have done today, you couldn't have saved him. It's not your fault. Even if you had shot the terrorist at the very beginning, the bomb would have set itself off by the terrorist taking his hand off the detonator, killing the boy as he was standing next to him. The boy was hit by a sniper from somewhere around, anyway, he would have died in any case. Nothing could have stopped it." She rolled her eyes, as if to demonstrate how much of a stretch it was for her to say something like that to him. "It was clear from the beginning that they were both going to die." She looked a little angrier again now. "Still, how could you take off that suit..."

Tony just looked into her eyes. He had a feeling of gradually drifting away. The dull buzzing in his ears intensified that feeling, and he couldn't feel his body anymore.

"Okay, Stark," Romanoff said, a little more concerned. "Now, just take a breath. Come on, take a deep breath. Stay with me."

Tony did as he was told and tried to concentrate on breathing. Gradually, he felt at least his heart rate lowering a little and some feeling returning to his limbs. It was mostly pain, though.

"Raza... I...," Tony tried to say, but fell silent again.

"We'll deal with Raza soon enough. First, let's get out of here before the cops get the idea of inviting us in for questioning. Our agents are collecting your armor right now, then we'll be on our way."

"Good."

"However, if anyone grabs an important piece, Fury will make the rest of your life a living hell, believe me."

But it took only a few minutes for the suit to be safely stowed in the trunk and the car to start moving.

"I think I've got everything," the agent, who was driving, said.

"Well, at least something," Romanoff said, slumping in her seat in relief.

"Fury wouldn't have made just my life a living hell, huh?," Tony said, glad that he was gradually regaining his voice. And to his surprise, Romanoff turned around again and smiled briefly at him.