Chapter 3: Press Conference
October 5, 2005 – Wednesday
Raza and his remaining men had retreated outside the caves, their fury and determination pitted against the armored titan mowing through their ranks. The rocket launcher was lost, but Raza's men were still well-armed and resolved to stop the relentless force that was carving its way through them.
In Raza's mind, there was no doubt that the figure within the suit had to be either Tony or Faith Stark; there was no other plausible explanation. His anger mounted, primarily directed at Abu, whom he believed had mismanaged every aspect of this catastrophic situation.
Raza harbored no illusions about Stark leaving voluntarily. He anticipated that Stark would emerge from the cave in his armored suit, ready to retaliate. Raza and his men were prepared to fire relentlessly, counting on the limited supply of flame within the suit to eventually run out. Furthermore, they were isolated in the desert, far from any form of civilization, and believed that Stark could be pursued and harried until he was subdued. In Raza's view, time and location were on his side.
"He's coming! The iron man and the Slayer are coming!" one of Raza's men screamed, providing confirmation of which Stark was inside the armor and which was not. However, Raza recognized that it mattered little at this point. Faith was a formidable warrior, and he regretted the day he had made the deal with the demon Cristos for her capture. Now he wished he had never involved her in this ordeal.
As the iron man emerged from the cave into the harsh daylight, Raza assessed the damage to the armor and took solace in the visible wear and tear. Perhaps the armored figure wouldn't even make it out of the encampment, he thought, holding onto a glimmer of hope.
"Fire! Fire!" Raza bellowed, and his men unleashed a relentless hail of bullets upon the advancing iron man. The gray armor bore scars from the relentless onslaught, the metal sizzling with the impact of the rounds.
Raza soon realized that Stark had a purpose in his movement. He was heading straight for the ammo dump, and his arms were raised in a familiar gesture, preparing to unleash his flamethrowers.
"Cut him off!" Raza commanded, running and firing in an attempt to divert Stark from the ammo dump. However, Tony remained unwavering in his pursuit, and in a matter of seconds, he directed his flames onto the crates of ammunition. The fire gnawed at the boxes, and the Stark logos on them crisped and burned away.
"Concentrate your fire! Knock him over!" Raza ordered, determined to take down the armored intruder.
"But he... he is a thing of iron!" one of his men stammered in fear.
"He is a man and can die as readily as any man!" Raza declared, shooting down the man who had been teetering on the edge of panic. He then pointed at the armored American. "Now take him down!"
"I think not," came a voice from Raza's side. He turned just in time to witness Faith driving her fist squarely into his face, sending him hurtling backward. The Slayer had arrived, and Raza's world descended into darkness as he tumbled away from the battle.
"Faith, get over here!" Tony urgently called to his daughter as he continued to ignite everything around him. The crates were haphazardly stacked, forming a maze-like barrier, but it didn't deter Tony. He pushed his way further into the ammunition storage, unleashing his flamethrowers to devastating effect.
A relentless barrage of gunfire concentrated on the small of Tony's back sent him crashing to his knees. In the midst of the fiery chaos, Faith noticed something alarming—her father's armor was on fire. A stray bullet had pierced the fuel line, causing fuel to spill and ignite, engulfing Tony's left arm in flames. In a frantic effort, Faith and Tony worked together to smother the fire before it could cause more damage.
Suddenly, a new threat emerged. Tony felt a searing pain in his right shoulder. It wasn't from the flames but from a bullet that had found its way through a small fissure in the armor's seams, lodging itself in Stark's upper arm.
"Faith, I've been shot, through the seams," Tony informed his daughter, his voice strained.
Faith nodded, her focus still on extinguishing the fire on her father's left arm. With determined effort, they managed to quell the flames, leaving scorch marks on the unharmed metal.
Faith informed Tony, "You're out," her eyes scanning the fiery chaos that had taken hold of the ammunition stockpile. Bullets continued to assault the armored suit, causing her to duck instinctively. "I think it's time to go," she added, noticing that pieces of the armor were beginning to shake loose.
Several insurgents rushed forward, armed not with guns but with fire extinguishers, determined to combat the growing flames. There was a slim chance they might succeed in extinguishing the fire before it engulfed the entire area.
Tony accessed a metal flap on his left arm, revealing a red switch within. A low whine started to emanate from the armor, gradually growing louder. "Faith, time to go," he urged.
The approaching insurgents heard the ominous whine and immediately retreated, their fear of some impending explosive device pushing them back. Tony stepped backward, moving toward a pile of crates that had yet to catch fire, while Faith clung tightly to his helmet. They could feel vibrations emanating from the soles of the armored boots, as if the ground beneath them was on the verge of upheaval.
Tony's heel boosters ignited, radiating intense white-hot energy. He carefully monitored the onboard stabilizers and temperature levels, anxiety gnawing at him. It was a race against time to determine whether the boots would function as designed or if the entire system would overheat. The consequences of failure were grave: Faith would suffer severe burns, assuming she survived, and Tony himself would be cooked alive within the armor.
The energy continued to surge within the armor as Tony kept a close watch on the levels, determined to make this escape successful despite the relentless barrage of bullets pounding against him, threatening to breach the armor's integrity.
Finally, the boots reached eighty percent of their capacity, then ninety, and the small monitor within Tony's helmet indicated ignition as a minuscule light shifted from red to green. The whine had grown into a deafening roar as the boot jets fully engaged, releasing a torrent of force downward and kicking up swirling plumes of dust and dirt.
Faith couldn't help but chuckle as her Slayer hearing picked up her father humming two bars of "Off We Go Into the Wild Blue Yonder." Suddenly, the armor jolted upward, and then they were airborne.
As they ascended, the blast from the jets sliced into the remaining boxes of explosives. It proved to be the final trigger needed, as the crates of Stark munitions erupted into a massive fireball behind them, sending shockwaves and debris flying in all directions.
Tony and Faith hurtled through the sky, their ascent driven by the roaring boot jets and the shockwaves of the massive explosions they had left behind at the terrorist camp. The deafening noise surrounded them, making any communication impossible, and the sensation was like being in the midst of a tornado.
They continued to ascend at an alarming rate, and Tony realized with growing horror that if he didn't make adjustments soon, they might end up in orbit. He quickly manipulated the armor's gyros to alter their course, steering them away from the vertical ascent and into a parabolic arc, eliminating the risk of becoming spacefaring tourists.
Amidst the thunderous roar of the boot jets, Tony and Faith struggled to get their bearings as they streaked across the landscape below. All they saw was an endless expanse of flat terrain. Then, as Tony looked ahead, his heart skipped a beat.
A massive mountain range loomed directly in their path. In that surreal moment, Tony briefly recalled the Jericho missile obliterating a section of a mountain range, and he couldn't help but entertain the thought that this mountain was a vengeful relative seeking retribution. The consequences of a collision at their current speed would be catastrophic—Tony's armor might turn into an iron coffin, and Faith would be ejected with unpredictable consequences.
Tony wrestled with the armor's gyros as the mountain rushed toward them at a terrifying speed. The prospect of a collision loomed, and in a desperate bid, he managed to coax a slight downward thrust from his boosters, altering their trajectory just enough to clear the peak. They soared over the mountain range, but Tony's armored knee clipped the peak in the process.
However, the boosters gave their final push, sputtered, and then went silent. Tony and Faith were now in freefall, descending like a crippled bird. Tony's mind raced, calculating their rate of descent, the angle, and the stress the armor could withstand. He needed to determine their chances of survival with mathematical precision.
With just three seconds left before impact, Tony completed his calculations, and the results were far from reassuring. Then, they struck the ground.
An array of sand dunes was spread out before them. They provided some very minimal cushion, but not much, and certainly not enough for Tony's preferences. They slammed into one dune after the next, each one seeming to propel them forward. The moment they struck the first one, pieces of the armor spun away and the armor continued to shed chunks of metal with each impact. The relentless assault of the dunes was like a brutal onslaught on Tony's senses, each jolt sending shockwaves of discomfort and disarray through his body.
"I'm going to have to ditch," Faith shouted, her voice filled with a mix of urgency and concern, mirroring the chaos of their situation. "Or…"
"Alright," Tony replied with a strained determination, the grit in his voice matching the harsh terrain. As Faith bravely leaped off the side, his armor bounded away across the unforgiving sand in one direction while he ricocheted in the other like an out-of-control squash ball, his body feeling like it was being tossed about in a merciless storm.
When he finally stopped moving, he didn't realize it. It was the absence of clanking that was his first clue. Relief washed over him, a palpable sensation as he lay there, allowing his inner ear to regain its equilibrium. Once that had been accomplished, he made a mental checklist of his body, experimentally flexing his fingers and toes to make certain that they were still responding. The quiet desperation in his actions was juxtaposed with the silent, desolate landscape around him, a stark reminder of the danger he had just escaped.
No. Everything appeared to be functioning, as unlikely as that seemed: Everything except the armor. That was shot to hell. But it had served its purpose. He was lying on his back, unable to move, as formidable in his armor as a flipped tortoise was in its. Fortunately, he had more resources available to him than did the average tortoise.
"Are you okay?" Faith said, her voice now a soothing balm amidst the chaos, as she limped toward her father. Her concern was palpable, a warm beacon in the midst of their desolation.
"Help me get out of this," Tony replied, his voice laced with discomfort and pain, his body bearing the brunt of their turbulent landing.
Faith nodded, her determination unwavering, as she began to pull the shattered pieces of armor apart. The metallic remnants clanked and groaned in protest as they gave way to her efforts, creating a stark contrast to her gentle touch. She assisted her father in climbing out of the wreckage, their hands working together as a symbol of their unbreakable bond. "You okay?" she repeated, her words carrying the weight of genuine concern, like a lifeline in the midst of their predicament.
"Give me a second," Tony replied, his voice strained as he checked himself over. He felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his side that made him wince, fearing he might well have busted a rib. He flexed his arm, and instantly, the pain from the rib became a distant second in priorities. It was replaced by the searing agony in his shoulder. He reached around, put his hand on it, and came away with blood on his fingers, the crimson stark against the desert sand. "No," he finally replied, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and concern. "Look at my shoulder."
Faith, still echoing her father's deep worry, walked around behind Tony. "It looks like it's not bleeding freely," she admitted, her tone a soothing balm even in the face of adversity. "Makes me wish you had my healing."
Tony shook his head, his appreciation for her healing abilities tinged with a hint of ruefulness. "I'm fairly certain the bullet is still in there. So even if I had your healing, it would need to be taken out first. Let's give you a look over now."
Faith slowly nodded, her face a mirror of their shared determination, even as she limped around in front of him. "Leg's busted though no break, maybe fractured. It should be healed by morning," she offered, her words a glimmer of hope amidst the desolation of their current situation.
"Anything else?" Tony asked, his concern etched across his face as he cast a careful gaze over his daughter. He saw no open wounds, which offered a glimmer of relief, but he understood that internal injuries could be a different matter altogether.
"A rib maybe," Faith admitted, her voice tinged with discomfort as she bravely assessed her own condition. "And my shoulder is out of its socket." Her admission was matter-of-fact, a testament to her resilience in the face of adversity.
It was then that Tony noticed that Faith's right arm was hanging limply at her side, a silent testament to her pain and the challenges they now faced.
"I can push it back in if I have something to push on," Faith said, her determination unwavering.
With his good arm, Tony took Faith's hand and placed it on his shoulder. With a quick, controlled thrust, she shoved her shoulder back into its socket, the action punctuated by a sharp intake of breath and a momentary wince.
Kicking loose the final armored components from his legs, Tony staggered to his feet. His shoulder ached, and he reflexively clutched it, a grimace of pain etched across his face. He took two unsteady steps before collapsing forward, landing face down in the unforgiving sand.
"I think you have more problems than I do," Faith said, her voice laced with concern. "I think this is going to take teamwork. We lean on each other."
Tony nodded; his agreement evident even as he struggled to rise. With Faith's unwavering support, they managed to get him back on his feet. Together, they embraced the essence of their bond, taking each step one at a time, their footsteps in sync with their determination to overcome the challenges that lay ahead.
Far, far in the distance, they could hear the explosions continuing, a haunting reminder of the danger they had narrowly escaped. They shared a fleeting glance over their shoulders, smiles etching themselves grimly on their faces as they saw blackened smoke rising lazily above the distant mountain, a testament to their resilience in the face of adversity.
Tony suddenly stopped, causing Faith to halt as well. He gazed intently at the collapsed armor, his thoughts a tumultuous sea of emotions and contemplation.
"Penny for your thoughts," Faith said, her voice a gentle invitation to share the burdens they carried, both physical and emotional.
"Yinsen," Tony admitted, his voice carrying a weight of regret and reflection. "How he had been prodding us, asking what we were working on. How I trusted you faster than I trusted him."
Faith nodded in understanding, her eyes reflecting the turmoil of emotions swirling within her. "Well, to be fair, you had a reason to trust me," she admitted, her words a testament to the deep connection they shared despite the years of separation. "Even though you hadn't seen me since I was born. Being your daughter led to you naturally trusting me."
"True," Tony replied, his voice tinged with both gratitude and remorse. "Though, to be truthful, I thought he had been a spy working for Raza. And to tell the truth, I feel ashamed I doubted him."
Faith reached out, placing a comforting hand on her father's shoulder, her touch conveying understanding and forgiveness. "I know," she said with a sigh, her voice soft with empathy. "My friend Buffy has been a Slayer longer than I have. And she has admitted to me that she sees the faces of everyone she couldn't save. I understand what she meant now."
Deciding to change the topic from something so morbid, Tony asked, a glimmer of determination in his eyes, "Have you had any desert survival training?"
"No," Faith answered honestly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "My training has never been survival in nature. It was about how to kick undead butt."
Tony nodded in understanding, realizing the vast difference in their skill sets. "The only thing I know off hand is in a desert you're supposed to seek shelter during the day and travel at night," he said, casting a searching gaze at the endless dunes surrounding them. "That said, that doesn't look like much of an option at this point."
Faith's agreement was swift, her eyes scanning the desolate landscape that stretched around them, offering no respite or shelter. "Yeah," she said, her tone laced with urgency. "We better get moving. Just in case Raza survived and decides to come looking for revenge."
"You're right," Tony agreed, determination fueling their every step. And so, they began to move, their progress slow and deliberate.
The shifting sands beneath their feet made every step an arduous endeavor. In no time, the muscles in their legs were screaming for rest, their bodies protesting the harsh conditions. Yet, they ignored their aching muscles, their determination unwavering, as they pressed forward into the unforgiving desert.
In no time, their lips were parched, the relentless desert sun sapping moisture from their bodies. They attempted to lick their lips, but there was no spit or any moisture left on their tongues. Despite the fact that neither of them was sweating, the oppressive heat bore down on them like a relentless foe. Faith, desperate for relief from the scorching sun, made the painful decision to remove her top, continuing on clad only in her bra and jeans.
Several times, they had to stop and take slow, measured deep breaths to force air down their dry throats because even swallowing had become a challenge. The relentless sand managed to work its way into just about every orifice they had, a constant reminder of their dire situation. The sun beat down upon them endlessly, and it felt as though night would never come to bring respite.
Eventually, however, it did. But Tony and Faith were unaware of it when it happened because they were both unconscious, victims of the merciless desert heat.
Tony had been the first to succumb to the unforgiving elements. After that, Faith had summoned every ounce of her strength, carrying her father stumbling across the unforgiving dunes until exhaustion overtook her as well, and she too passed out from the merciless heat.
Tony was the first to wake, and the realization that he and Faith had passed out in the merciless desert was incredibly alarming to him. "Faith?" he said, his voice filled with urgency as he shook her gently.
Faith opened her eyes, disoriented and bewildered. The abrupt transition from unconsciousness to the darkness of night had caught her by surprise. "When did it get night?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.
"I don't know," Tony replied, his worry palpable. "On top of that, I have no idea how long we've been lying here exposed and vulnerable." He attempted to stand, his determination warring with his exhausted body. It seemed that every fiber of his being wanted to succumb to the alluring call of sleep, to let everything sort itself out in the safety of unconsciousness.
Faith, however, slowly rose to her feet, a slight smile touching her lips as she assessed her healed leg. "Okay, my leg is healed, by the feel of it. Now let's get you up."
Tony nodded in agreement, determination overcoming his fatigue. This time, when his brain ordered his muscles to function, they complied, albeit reluctantly. With Faith's unwavering support, he fought his way to his feet and leaned on her as they continued their slow, arduous trek through the unforgiving desert.
As they walked, Faith's Slayer hearing began to pick up on something unusual, a faint but distinct sound in the distance that raised her suspicions. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Raza's men were closing in on them. Her heart raced, but she pressed on alongside her father.
Their steps carried them to the crest of another dune, but Tony stumbled and fell, bringing Faith down with him in a tangle of limbs. As they lay sprawled at the base of the dune, their ears caught the ominous sound of something approaching, something large and mechanical.
A dark, massive shape slowly rose from behind the dune, a piercing light radiating from it, forcing Tony and Faith to squint against its brilliance. As the shape continued to ascend, Tony's heart raced, and he strained his eyes to make out what it was. It hovered in the night sky, shrouded in darkness, making it difficult to discern its type.
Then, with a controlled descent, the massive object revealed itself as a helicopter, its form becoming more distinct as it neared the ground. Tony couldn't identify the specific model in the darkness, but it didn't matter. The arrival of this mechanical savior was a beacon of hope in their desperate situation.
Lying there, waiting, Tony and Faith stared up at the night sky, their eyes adjusting to the sudden intrusion of light. A face appeared above them, looking down with astonishment, and then a slow, relieved smile spread across it.
"Saving your ass is getting to be a full-time job," said James Rhodes, his voice filled with a mix of amazement and relief. However, his expression quickly changed as he noticed something on Tony's chest. "What the hell—?" He dropped down next to Stark and urgently tugged at Tony's shirt. His face was illuminated by the radiant circle on Tony's chest.
"Those bastards," Rhodey whispered, his voice trembling with urgency. "How much time—How much time until the bomb goes off, Tony!" His eyes were wide with fear as he scanned Tony for any sign of a cut-off switch. In a frantic rush, he uncorked his canteen and tried to ease water down both Tony and Faith's throats. "I'm not abandoning you now, buddy! Not after all this! But we got to disarm that thing, and if—"
Faith, her voice barely a croak, managed to speak, her eyes fixing on the miniature Arc reactor implanted in Tony's chest. "Not... a bomb, not a bomb."
Rhodey stared at it, confusion etched across his face. "Then what the hell is it?"
The softly glowing Arc reactor cast an eerie light in the darkness, its radiance a stark contrast to their perilous situation.
"A reminder," said Tony, his voice filled with quiet resolve and a hint of nostalgia.
"And who are you?" Rhodey asked, his eyes shifting from Tony to Faith, his curiosity piqued by the revelation.
"Isabella Maria Stark," Faith replied, her voice steady and unwavering as she introduced herself, using her full birth name for the first time in twenty years.
Tony's voice, tinged with a mixture of pride and longing, completed the family revelation. "My daughter."
Rhodey's eyes widened in astonishment as the weight of the revelation settled in. He had known Tony Stark for years and thought he knew almost everything about him. But this revelation was something entirely unexpected.
His jaw slackened, and he blinked in disbelief, trying to process the information. The realization that Tony had a daughter, and that she had been kept a secret for so long, left him momentarily speechless. Rhodey had never seen this side of Tony, the side that had concealed such a significant part of his life.
After a few moments of stunned silence, Rhodey finally managed to find his voice. "Isabella Maria Stark," he repeated, his tone a mixture of awe and curiosity. He turned to Tony, searching his friend's face for any sign of explanation or emotion. "Tony, why didn't you ever tell me?" Rhodey's voice was tinged with a hint of hurt, not because of the secret itself, but because of the trust that had been broken by its concealment.
"Long story," Tony replied with a sigh, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and complexity. He knew that explaining this would be difficult. "Remember Amelia?"
Rhodey furrowed his brow, trying to recall the name. "Amelia?" he questioned, his memory jogging. "The woman you dated at MIT?"
Tony nodded, and then heaved a heavy sigh, as if reliving a chapter of his life that had long remained closed. "She's her mother."
Understanding began to dawn on Rhodey as he connected the dots. The brief relationship between Tony and Amelia during their time at MIT had been nothing more than a passing fling, and he had often joked with Tony about his lack of commitment. But now, faced with the revelation that Amelia was Faith's mother, Rhodey realized that this must have been a part of Tony's life that he had never truly resolved.
October 6, 2005 – Thursday
Pepper Potts stood on the runway at Edwards Air Force Base. The heat shimmered around her, coming in waves off the tarmac, the scorching sun casting a relentless glare upon her anxious face. The oppressive heat seemed to mirror her rising apprehension, intensifying the anticipation that had been building within her.
Happy Hogan was standing nearby her, leaning against the Rolls-Royce Phantom Silver, his expression mirroring Pepper's mixture of concern and hope. His unwavering support was a comforting presence amidst the uncertainty that hung in the air.
She scoured the horizon, waiting for some sign of the plane, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Finally, in the distance, a speck grew larger, slowly taking shape as the C-17 approached. Each passing second felt like an eternity, a never-ending ordeal of hope and fear intertwined.
After what seemed an endless amount of waiting, the C-17 finally landed with a thunderous roar, the deafening sound momentarily drowning out Pepper's racing thoughts. It taxied toward them, the engines shutting down, and a ramp descended from the rear of the airplane. She held her breath, her eyes fixed on that ramp, her emotions a turbulent storm within her.
And then, she saw them. Rhodey and Tony, descending from the aircraft. Relief surged through her like a tidal wave, and tears welled up in her eyes, her whispered words trembling with emotion, "Oh my God."
But as her gaze settled on the woman coming down the ramp with Rhodey and Tony, confusion and curiosity laced her face, adding another layer of complexity to the rollercoaster of emotions that had defined this moment.
Pepper's heart ached as her eyes returned to Tony, who appeared like a fragile ghost of himself. He sat in a wheelchair; his once-vibrant demeanor now replaced by an unsettling aura of frailty. It was a sight that tore at her soul, seeing the man she loved reduced to this state.
Rhodey moved forward, likely to assist Tony down the ramp, but to Pepper's surprise, it was the woman who stepped in instead. Her actions added an unexpected layer to the already emotional scene, leaving Pepper momentarily puzzled.
Tony, always quick with a quip even in his weakened state, looked up at the woman in the midst of this unusual gesture. His words held a hint of his usual charm but were tinged with vulnerability, "You just like pushing me around, don't you?"
The woman, perhaps trying to maintain a lighthearted atmosphere amidst the heaviness of the moment, responded with a teasing tone, "Yeah, you got me pegged." Her words carried a hint of fondness, as if there was more to their relationship than met the eye, a connection that left Pepper with a mix of emotions—curiosity, concern, and a tinge of jealousy, all wrapped up in the bittersweet reunion unfolding before her.
Tony's impatience with the situation was palpable, evident from the moment they reached the bottom of the ramp. He couldn't bear to endure what he saw as an indignity a moment longer than necessary. With a tone that carried both frustration and a hint of vulnerability, he turned to the woman, "Help me out of this thing, Faith."
Unwilling to wait for assistance, Tony took matters into his own hands. His determination to assert his independence, a trait that had defined him throughout his life, drove him to make a hasty attempt to pull himself out of the chair. The impulsive move, born from his frustration and anxiety, proved to be a mistake. As he struggled to his feet, his weakened state became evident, and he teetered dangerously close to falling.
In that critical moment, it was Faith and Rhodey who came to his rescue, their swift actions preventing a potentially disastrous fall. Their steadying hands and reassuring presence were a lifeline for Tony in his moment of vulnerability.
"We got you, pal," Rhodey said, his words carrying not only reassurance but also a deep sense of camaraderie and loyalty, a reminder that despite all the challenges they faced, they were still a team, bound by unbreakable bonds of friendship and shared experiences.
Tony pulled away from Rhodey, determined to put what little remained of his weight on Faith as they moved forward. His every step seemed like a monumental effort, his focus solely on the act of keeping his feet moving, a stark contrast to the once-confident and agile Tony Stark.
Pepper's eyes locked with Rhodey's as they drew near, a silent exchange of gratitude and understanding passing between them. His nod conveyed a sense of unity, a shared commitment to supporting Tony through his difficult journey.
"Thank you," Pepper whispered, her voice filled with emotion.
"Don't mention it," Rhodey replied, his own voice carrying the weight of their shared history and unwavering friendship.
Then, Pepper turned her attention towards Faith, her curiosity piqued. "And who do we have here?" she inquired, her voice warm and welcoming.
Tony, ever the introducer, managed a proud but weary smile. "Pepper, I would like you to meet Isabella Maria Stark, my daughter."
But Faith, with a touch of humility and perhaps a desire for a simpler connection, chimed in, "I prefer Faith, though."
"Daughter?" Pepper repeated, her voice tinged with surprise and confusion. The revelation had caught her completely off guard, and she struggled to reconcile this new information with the Tony she thought she knew.
Tony, sensing her bewilderment, offered an explanation, his words carrying a mixture of regret and nostalgia. "Back when I was in college," he began, "I dated Faith's mother. Got her pregnant. Amelia allowed me to choose Faith's middle name, and then gave our daughter the Stark family name. Two months after Faith was born was the first and last time, I saw her until recently. Her mom is dead, I'm the only family she has left."
Pepper's mind raced, trying to process this unexpected chapter in Tony's life. It was a revelation that added a layer of complexity to their relationship and to Tony's own journey. The realization that Tony had a daughter, a connection from his past that had resurfaced in this moment of need, left Pepper with a mixture of emotions—surprise, empathy, and a newfound sense of the depth of Tony's experiences and the challenges he had faced along the way.
Tony looked at Pepper closely, his observant gaze taking in the subtle signs of emotion that lingered in her eyes. "Your eyes are red," he remarked, a hint of his trademark wit surfacing even in this moment. "A few tears for your long-lost boss?"
Pepper's response was a mixture of humor and genuine sentiment. "Tears of joy," she quipped, her words laced with affection. "I hate job hunting."
Faith's laughter, a bright and unexpected sound amidst the gravity of the situation, added a touch of warmth to the reunion.
Meanwhile, Happy Hogan, ever the loyal and steadfast friend, held open the limo door for Tony, his presence a reassuring constant in Tony's life. Tony, always quick with a comeback, couldn't resist a playful jab. "You do something new with your hair?" he inquired, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Hogan, with his usual deadpan demeanor, replied, "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."
Tony nodded approvingly, a silent acknowledgment of Hogan's support, and patted him on the shoulder as Faith eased him into the limo.
Hogan turned his attention to Rhodey, his expression taking on a sense of formality. Without hesitation, he saluted, a symbol of the respect and professionalism that underpinned their working relationship. Rhodey responded with a sharp and precise salute, their military training and shared history evident in the synchronized motion.
Pepper, climbing into the back of the limo with Tony and Faith, had every intention of jumping right back into their busy lives, offering a distraction to Tony amidst the chaos of his return. She began to study her electronic organizer, ready to rattle off various obligations and tasks that awaited him. But the words died in her throat, the enormity of the situation sinking in.
Pepper's gaze met Hogan's in the rearview mirror, a silent understanding passing between them. She gave a small shrug, a subtle acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions that hung in the air.
Briskly, Hogan broke the momentary silence, his voice carrying a sense of purpose. "Where to, Mr. Stark?"
Pepper, her focus returning to the task at hand, gently reminded them, "We're due at the hospital."
"No," Tony said, surprising Pepper with the forcefulness of his tone, given his weakened appearance and obvious fatigue. "I was just held captive for three months, Faith a little more than that. There are two things that Faith and I both want. We want an American cheeseburger and we want—"
"A hot blonde?" Pepper interjected with a playful smirk, her familiarity with Tony's quirks shining through. Faith couldn't help but roll her eyes at their banter.
When Tony met Pepper's gaze with a smile, she couldn't help but tease him further, "You thinking about how well I know you?"
Tony's response carried a deeper layer of sentiment, a reflection on their history together. "Actually, I was thinking about how well you knew me. Past tense." There was a hint of nostalgia in his voice, a recognition of how much their relationship had evolved over time. "The second thing I want is a press conference."
"Really," Pepper said, her curiosity piqued.
"Yes," Tony affirmed. "And no, the press conference isn't about my not being in the mood for a hot blonde… although I suppose some would consider that lapse to be newsworthy."
"Dad," Faith said, rolling her eyes at Tony's playful banter.
Tony, however, continued with a more serious tone, revealing his intentions for the press conference. "There are a couple of things I want to do a press conference for, one of them is Faith. I want to introduce the world to my daughter." His words carried a sense of pride and determination, a desire to share this important part of his life with the world.
Moments later, the limo glided away from Edwards Air Force Base, the tension in the car palpable as an uncomfortable silence settled in. Hogan, always the pragmatic one, decided to break the silence with a question that had been on his mind. "Did they get them?"
Tony, still grappling with the aftermath of his captivity, sought clarification. "Them?"
Hogan's response clarified the matter. "The guys who, you know… did this to you."
Faith's voice was tinged with a mixture of frustration and resignation as she answered, "No," leaning her head on her father's shoulder for support.
"By the time Faith and I directed the Air Force to where they'd been, they were already gone," Tony added, his voice carrying a hint of frustration at the elusive nature of their captors. "Nothing left of the camp but some smoldering ashes."
"They'll find them. They'll pay, one way or the other," Hogan asserted with unwavering confidence, his determination to seek justice for Tony and Faith shining through.
Tony simply nodded in response, his thoughts and emotions perhaps too complex to put into words at that moment. The weight of their shared experience, the ordeal they had endured, lingered in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.
As the limo continued on its way to Tony's corporate headquarters, there was very little discussion. Pepper, as efficient as ever, was busy making phone calls to arrange for the press conference that Tony had requested. Hogan remained vigilant, focused on the road ahead.
Every so often, amid her flurry of tasks, Pepper would steal a glance in Tony and Faith's direction. She observed that Faith had not moved her head from Tony's shoulder, their physical closeness a testament to the bond that had formed between them during their time in captivity. It was a bond that had been denied them in the past, but adversity had brought them together, forging a connection that ran deeper than blood, a connection that had sustained them through their ordeal and would continue to define their relationship in the days to come.
As requested, they made a stop for a cheeseburger. Tony, ever the master of playful eccentricity, insisted that the limo pull into the drive-through of a Burger King. It was a whimsical choice that seemed to fit perfectly with his character, and Pepper couldn't help but appreciate the amusement it brought, especially when the gleaming silver Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up to the take-out window, leaving the fast-food attendant utterly astounded.
Tony took the opportunity to hand the girl the money himself, offering her a generous fifty-dollar bill and telling her to keep the change. It was a small gesture, but it raised Pepper's hopes, hinting at Tony's resilience and his determination to reclaim some semblance of normalcy.
However, what truly surprised Pepper was Faith's order, which was three times as much food as Tony's. She couldn't help but inquire, "Have you missed having a cheeseburger that much?"
Faith's response was straightforward, revealing a practical reason behind her hearty appetite. "No," she replied. "My metabolism requires more calories than yours."
"That's not possible," Pepper said, her surprise and confusion evident in her voice as she tried to make sense of Faith's explanation.
Tony, always enigmatic and quick with cryptic comments, chimed in, "It's possible. Given what Faith is meant to do." His words only deepened the mystery, leaving Pepper with more questions than answers.
As they finished their cheeseburgers, the vehicle pulled into the heart of the Stark Industries complex. Faith's eyes widened as she took in the imposing main building, a glass skyscraper that seemed to radiate brilliance when the sun hit it at the right angle. "Wow, Dad," she exclaimed, clearly impressed by the sight.
Tony, recognizing Faith's admiration, shared a bit of family history. "You can thank your grandfather for the design," he told his daughter, his gaze following hers to the skyscraper. "He said it was intentionally designed that way as a source of illumination to light the way to greatness."
Every employee at Stark Industries knew that the man whose name adorned the upper reaches of the building was arriving. There had been no details released about just how Tony had managed to escape and survive. Pepper, despite her intense curiosity, didn't feel it was her place to ask either Tony or Faith, and neither of the Starks seemed inclined to volunteer the information. She reasoned that when they were ready to talk about it—presuming they ever were—then they would. That, as far as she was concerned, was the end of it.
However, the lack of information didn't translate to a lack of support or interest. The result was that there was a massive group of employees waiting for Tony when the limo rolled up, their faces a mix of concern and relief. Obadiah Stane was at the forefront, his expression a complex blend of emotions.
Pepper felt concern building. Tony was still frail from his and Faith's ordeal. How was it going to look if he stepped out of the limousine and five hundred or so people saw their boss sprawl on his face onto the sidewalk?
Clearly, Happy Hogan was having the same worry. "Boss," Hogan was saying, "maybe you should just, you know, wave out the window so they know you're okay, and then head straight home."
Faith chuckled softly, her amusement a stark contrast to the tension in the air. "I may not have known my father long, but even I know that's not something he's going to do." She understood Tony's determination and the importance of showing strength in the face of adversity.
"Faith's right," Tony agreed, his resolve unwavering. "If I did that, then they'll know I'm not really okay." He folded the paper from the burger, and Pepper took it from him before passing it on to Hogan, who disposed of it in a small garbage bag in the front. "Pull us over, Happy. Let's do this."
Pepper couldn't shake off her worry about the situation, even as Hogan, having parked the limo, came around and opened the door for Stark. She held her breath, her eyes fixed on Tony as he gingerly put his feet down, first one and then the other, onto the sidewalk. Though Hogan extended a hand to help him out, Tony waved it off, determined to make this entrance under his own power. With a slight grunt, he hauled himself out of the limo and stood, even offering a slight bow. Pepper exhaled in relief, proud of his strength and resilience.
The employees who had gathered were applauding thunderously, their admiration and support palpable. Stane, arms outstretched, approached Tony, his expression a mix of awe and emotion. "See this? Huh? Huh?" he called out, the word 'this' open to interpretation. It could have referred to the crowd of well-wishers or the sight of Tony having survived an ordeal that most of them could never imagine.
Then, Stane noticed Faith getting out of the car and frowned, confusion etching his features. "Tony?" he whispered as he threw his arms around Tony, hugging him fiercely. "Who is she?"
"My daughter," Tony whispered in reply. "It's a long story."
Without another glance at Faith or even a backward glance at Pepper, Stane turned Tony around and guided him toward headquarters.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Pepper felt her eyes beginning to sting, overwhelmed by the emotions and the whirlwind of events that had unfolded. As if he were psychic, Hogan handed her a tissue, and she gratefully accepted it. Dabbing at her eyes quickly, she pulled herself together, determined to fulfill her role in this momentous occasion.
She stepped out of the car and joined the receding crowd, her brisk pace keeping her in sync with the masses. The notion of calling a press conference had been something she had despised, but Tony had insisted, and he was the boss. So, she had dutifully followed his instructions. Now, she followed the throngs of people as they headed toward the Howard Stark Memorial Speaker's Center, a room in the main building where various high-capacity functions were held, and certainly, a press conference of this magnitude qualified.
By the time she arrived, the place was already packed to capacity. Reporters were crowded in at the front, their cameras poised and ready, eager to capture every moment of this extraordinary event. Meanwhile, the back areas were rapidly filling up with curious employees, all anxious to see what was going on and to hear what Tony wanted to talk about.
Pepper shook her head in amazement at the barely controlled chaos that surrounded her. Tony and Faith were nowhere to be seen, but she assumed that Stane had wisely taken them around the back entrance to avoid the frenzy of the crowd.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Tony, followed closely by Faith, continued to move through the narrow hallway, leading them directly toward the podium. The anticipation of the press conference loomed, and the only other person with them was Stane, who had been trailing behind Faith.
Stane couldn't help but express his discomfort as the moment approached. "You know, there's a lot of reporters in there," he noted, his unease palpable. "What's going on?"
Tony, despite his own inner turmoil, spoke with an assurance he didn't entirely feel. "You'll see," he replied, his words carrying a sense of resolve and purpose.
The cacophony from the other side of the entrance door hit Tony like a solid wall of noise. In that moment, found himself wishing that he was wearing armor again, something sleek and formidable, constructed from the finest materials he had access to. An image of the armor took hold in his mind, refusing to let go. It was a mental file folder he created, something he could revisit at his leisure, a reminder of the past and the possibilities of the future.
With resolve, Tony threw open the door and swiftly made his way across the stage to the podium. The response from the crowd was immediate—a wave of cheers and a barrage of questions from reporters. But then, as if by Stane's magic touch, the noise began to subside. Stane, with his considerable charisma, gestured for silence, and the crowd obediently followed suit.
Tony had hoped that during the moments of quiet, inspiration or clarity would strike him, but nothing came. His hands rested lightly on the podium, his fingers curling underneath it, a nervous energy coursing through him as he gripped and released it.
"I..." Tony began, his voice breaking the silence as he glanced back at the door he had entered through. A warm smile spread across his face as he saw Faith standing there, a beacon of support. With a sigh, he let out the breath he had been holding, and the words flowed out with it, unscripted and raw. "...can't do this anymore."
The room fell into a stunned and deafening silence. The audience, the reporters, they all waited, expecting a follow-up, a clever quip, a punchline—anything to break the tension. But Tony had nothing more to offer.
But Tony had anticipated this moment. Knowing that he might not trust himself to convey his thoughts clearly, he had placed his faith in the reporters. He counted on their tenacity and curiosity to draw him out of his self-imposed shell.
It took a moment, but finally, a reporter did what Tony had been expecting all along. "You mean you're retiring?" the reporter inquired, breaking the silence.
Tony's response was immediate and emphatic, his voice carrying a sense of determination. "No, I don't want to retire. I want to do something else."
Another uncomfortable silence followed, but it was short-lived. Another reporter picked up the thread, seeking further clarification, "Something besides weapons?"
Tony nodded in agreement, confirming the reporter's question with a simple, "Yes, that's right."
Suddenly, the room erupted into a frenzy of activity, with questions hurtling toward Tony like berserk drones. Amid the chaos, one question stood out, bellowed by a reporter whose voice seemed to carry above all others, demanding attention and clarity.
"The official report was sketchy. What happened to you over there, Mr. Stark?" the reporter's question hung in the air, a spark igniting a fire within Tony.
With unwavering intensity, Tony pointed directly at the reporter, his gaze and demeanor so charged that the reporter instinctively took a step back, as if Tony's finger was a loaded weapon. And then it all poured out of him like a torrent, his words gaining force and confidence with each passing moment.
"What happened over there?" Tony declared, his voice ringing with passion and conviction. "I had my eyes opened, that's what happened. I saw my weapons, with my name on them, in the hands of thugs. I thought we were doing good here… I can't say that anymore."
Throughout his impassioned speech, Tony noticed Pepper seated toward the back of the room, her eyes locked on him, a mix of awe and concern in her expression. Rhodey, too, sat beside her, visibly stunned by Tony's declaration.
Then, the same reporter pressed further, asking, "What do you intend to do about it, Mr. Stark?"
Tony felt a surge of resolve, as if he were standing two inches taller than he had been just moments ago. With unwavering determination, he declared, "The system is broken—there's no accountability whatsoever. Effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries, until a time when I can reassess the future of this company."
The room had descended into chaos, a cacophony of shouting voices and frantic waving arms, as reporters and employees alike struggled to process Tony's stunning announcement. Some looked stunned, exchanging bewildered glances, unable to believe what they had just heard and grappling with uncertainty about the company's future. Surprisingly, amid the chaos, some employees nodded in approval, perhaps recognizing the importance of the change Tony was ushering in.
Stane, attempting to restore order, had stepped in close to Tony, but his efforts were proving futile this time. Tony, resolute in his decision, spoke with conviction, addressing the crowd's curiosity. "We've lost our way," he declared. "I need to reevaluate things. And my heart's telling me I have more to offer the planet than things that blow up."
The overlapping voices of other reporters clamored for answers, but Tony sensed that Stane was about to intervene. He wouldn't allow it. Instead, he draped an arm around Stane's shoulders and continued, "In the coming months, Mr. Stane here and I will set a new course for Stark Industries. 'Tomorrow Today' has always been our slogan. It's time we try to live up to it."
The questions kept coming, rapid-fire and relentless, but Stane had reached his limit. He leaned into the microphone on the podium in front of Tony, his voice firm as he attempted to regain control of the situation. "Okay, I think we're going to be selling a lot of newspapers here," he began, attempting to steer the conversation. "What we should take away from this is that Tony's back, he's healthier than ever, and as soon as he heals up and takes some time off, we're going to have a little internal discussion and get back to you. Thank you for—"
But Tony wasn't finished. He interjected, capturing the room's attention once more. "I'm not quite done," he declared. "There is more than one reason for this change of course. The weapons, of course, are one. The other is… well, I think you should see her for yourself." With a proud smile, Tony turned and looked at Faith, introducing her to the world with undeniable affection. "I would like you to meet my daughter, Isabella Maria Stark."
The room fell into a momentary hush, the revelation of Tony's daughter adding yet another layer of surprise to an already astonishing press conference. Reporters and employees alike turned their attention toward Faith, their gazes filled with curiosity and intrigue.
Faith, standing by Tony's side, met the collective gaze with a calm and confident demeanor, her presence a testament to the bond she had formed with her father during their time in captivity. She offered a polite nod to the room, acknowledging the attention with grace.
The reporters, momentarily stunned by the unexpected introduction, quickly regained their composure. Questions erupted once more, but this time, they revolved around Faith—her background, her relationship with Tony, and the implications of her presence in Tony's life.
"As I was saying," Stane firmly interjected, effectively cutting off the barrage of questions from the reporters. "We're going to have a little internal discussion and get back to you. Thank you for coming."
Tony and Faith, still standing at the podium, didn't exit the stage as they had entered. Instead, they moved forward, stepping down from the stage and venturing into the crowd. It was a bold and unexpected move, and Pepper watched in utter astonishment as the crowd actually parted to make way for them.
The reporters, though still eager to inquire further, maintained a respectful distance, their questions now tempered by the acknowledgment of the significance of the moment. Tony and Faith, united and resolute, moved through the crowd together, facing the world with determination and the promise of change.
Tony and Faith walked right up to Pepper, coming to a stop in front of her. Tony's gaze shifted between her and Rhodey, as if he were waiting for their response. In that moment, it was clear that no one else in the room held any significance for him.
Pepper, accommodating Tony's unspoken request, addressed him directly. "You mean that?" she asked, seeking reassurance. Then, with a hint of skepticism and a raised eyebrow, she added, "Or is this some clever stock maneuver?"
Faith, displaying a touch of her father's wit, chimed in with a playful tone, "Wait and see," before she and Tony continued on their way.
As Pepper watched them go, a profound sense of realization washed over her. She felt as though she were seeing not only Tony but Faith for the first time, understanding the depth of their experiences and the transformation they had undergone during their time in captivity.
And maybe she truly was, witnessing the beginning of a new chapter in their lives, one filled with uncertainties but also the promise of growth and change.
Pepper started to head out after Tony and Faith, but Rhodey stopped her from going. There was a sense of urgency in his voice and a hint of worry in his eyes that tugged at her heartstrings. She reluctantly turned her attention to him, feeling a mixture of frustration and concern.
"Pepper, there's something I've got to talk to you about," Rhodey began, and his tone carried a weight that left her with a sense of foreboding.
"Rhodey, can it—" Pepper tried to protest, but he cut her off, his words hanging in the air with a touch of desperation.
"No. It can't wait," he interrupted her, and she couldn't help but notice the genuine fear in his eyes.
She caught a glimpse of that annoying Coulson person trying to get to her, but he was swept away by the crush of bodies of people trying to follow Tony and Faith, ask them questions, thank them, criticize them, whatever. Her annoyance simmered beneath the surface as she turned back to Rhodey. She blew air between her lips in an annoyed fashion, frustration blending with her growing worry.
"Okay, thirty seconds," she reluctantly agreed, her voice laced with impatience.
Rhodey leaned in close to her, and his words came out in a hurried, hushed tone, carrying an undertone of concern that sent shivers down her spine.
"He sustained some sort of massive damage to his heart. I'm a little fuzzy on the specifics, but the only thing keeping him going is a portable reactor implanted in his chest that he managed to cobble together from God-knows-what." Pepper's heart raced as she absorbed the gravity of the situation. Rhodey's words painted a vivid picture of Tony's struggle, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy and fear for him. "It's like an amputee having to attach his own claw prosthetics. The entire experience may have seriously traumatized him, and there may well be nothing more dangerous on this planet than Tony Stark not being in his right mind." Rhodey's voice cracked slightly, revealing the depth of his concern. Pepper's eyes welled up with emotion as she realized just how much Tony meant to him.
"So, keep an eye on him before he blows up himself or you or the West Coast." Rhodey glanced at his watch, his sense of urgency palpable. "Twenty-three seconds. Any questions for the remaining seven seconds?"
Pepper swallowed hard, the weight of the responsibility sinking in. Her voice quivered with a mixture of emotions as she asked her question, her worry for Tony and Faith intertwined.
"One, primarily," Pepper answered, her voice filled with genuine concern. "What do you know about this woman who claims to be his daughter?"
Rhodey's response was swift and informative, and Pepper couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amid the chaos.
"Quite a bit actually," Rhodey answered, and there was a hint of admiration in his voice. "Some of it she told me. And some of it I got from a classified file. Let's put it this way if half of what is in that file is true, we owe her and her friends a world of debt. They've been fighting a war unlike anything you or I have ever seen."
"What about her being Tony's daughter?" Pepper asked, her voice softening with curiosity and a hint of hope.
"That's true," Rhodey answered, his eyes reflecting the complexity of the situation. "Besides getting my hands on the classified file I had a detailed background check done on her. She truly was born Isabella Maria Stark to Amelia Johnson and Tony Stark."