When Iron Man 2 was released, I found myself somewhat unsatisfied. While I enjoyed the film, I felt many of its themes were only superficially explored, and there was so much more potential. I wished for a deeper dive into Tony Stark's struggles, particularly his battle with alcoholism and the lingering effects of his captivity and torture by the Ten Rings in Afghanistan. This is my take on what a sequel might have looked like, exploring these themes in greater depth (I'm not saying this is better than the movie! :D).

Marvel's choice to sideline these aspects in the film was a disappointment for me, as these are core issues in the comics. However, I understand their decision, though I would have loved to see RDJ bring it to life. As the title suggests, this project is inspired by the "Demon in a Bottle" storyline. It doesn't replicate the comic's plot but draws on its themes of alcoholism and addiction, while Tony grapples with the dangers in the world around him.

The story begins four months after the events of the first film and unfolds like a book, building up gradually. Most of it is told from Tony's point of view, but sometimes the point of view changes (mostly to Pepper's) to show the impact on those around him and their feelings about his behavior.

Please note, this story delves into dark and serious themes. I've aimed to maintain the character's wit and action-packed scenes true to how it could have been told in an Iron Man movie, but the subject of PTSD and alcoholism is handled repeatedly with a serious tone.

I hope you enjoy it, and I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback.

(For those who have read this story before: I've gone through the entire story again and made significant adjustments, particularly from Chapter 18 onwards. I've merged, shortened, changed, and expanded various parts. While the overall storyline remains intact, I can imagine that some adjustments might lead to minor confusion. But I hope the revisions enhance the reading experience.)

Chapter 1

The room was so dark he couldn't see the walls. There was just one lamp hanging from the ceiling, providing only sparse light. A fog made of fear and despair was crawling up inside him as he looked down at the water trough in front of him. Strong hands pushed him down to his knees forcing him to look at his own terrified reflection in the black water.

"No!" he cried out several times, and tried to resist against the men, but they only yelled at him in Arabic which he couldn't understand.

Quickly, he took a deep breath before they pushed him under water. A muffled gurgling filled his ears, bubbles swirling around his face. He struggled and kicked, trying to get back to the surface with all his strength. It was pointless. But he needed to breath! He needed to get his head up again. They would drown him, he couldn't breathe!

Suddenly, the grips loosened, and he emerged from the water. He greedily sucked in air with a snort before they pushed his head back under the surface. There hadn't been enough time to get oxygen. This time he wouldn't last so long. He prayed that his torturers would take this into their consideration. He was already feeling dizzy. He needed to breathe badly.

The grips loosened, he was allowed to breath in, but immediately was pushed under water again. If they continued like this, he would drown. Desperately he tried to count the seconds he had to endure under water. In vain. The panic made him unable to grasp a clear thought. His field of vision became dark and grainy, as if a thousand tiny dots were dancing in front of his eyes.

Air. Then water again.

His head was spinning. He felt sick. How long would they do this to him? Limitless panic was rushing through his veins – and there was no escape. No hope. Nothing. His strength gradually left him, and he no longer resisted.

Air. Water.

I'm going to die. The words echoed in his head just like someone was standing right next to him whispering the same words into his ear over and over again. His body went limp.

Air. Water.

The ice-cold wet seemed to creep into his head like poison.No…Make it stop… please make it stop….I don't care how, just make it stop… please…

Water.

Everything went completely black. His whole body was tingling, and he couldn't feel the water, but he couldn't feel the air either. He didn't know where he was. Should he breathe in or was he still under the surface? He couldn't hold it in anymore.

He gave up…

… and choked on water.

It was pitch black around him while he coughed and retched. There was a loud roaring in his ears. Then – very slowly – his field of vision brightened again. The first thing he saw was the reddish flag with the ten intertwined black rings and the two crossed swords in the middle. In front of it the masked terrorists, two with submachine guns in their hands, two whose clothes were soaked from his attempt to free himself from the water. He was lying on his back on the ground and the terrorists were looking down at him, obviously waiting for him to regain consciousness. Then two of them nodded at each other and reached out for him again.

"No! Please not! No!"

The men yelled at him again, grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him back to the water trough.

"Please!" he cried in anguish. "Don't! I can't! Please, no..."

He closed his eyes as he was thrust again into the icy cold. An unbelievable pain jolted through his chest, and he screamed...

… Tony Stark screamed his head off.

It was dark and he was shaking all over. His scream faded away and turned into an uncontrolled gasp. Automatically, his hand slid to the blue reactor in his chest. Tony looked around. He was clearly in bed in his own house in Malibu. But the adrenaline wouldn't subside, even though he tried to calm himself.

"Jarvis," he said, gasping for breath.

"Yes, sir?" the AI asked.

"Turn on the lights! All over the house! Every single damn light!"

"To what purpose -" Jarvis remarked with distinct dubiousness in his voice.

"JUST DO IT!" Tony shouted hoarsely and stood up.

He couldn't stay lying down. Not after this.It was just a dream,he tried to reassure himself, just a dream…

"Sir, the lights are on now."

Tony walked out of the bedroom, shaking so violently he could barely stay on his feet.

Just a dream…

But it had been a dream about reality. It had happened exactly like that in Afghanistan. Everything seemed to be back. The terrorists. The captivity. The torture. The constant fear. The dark, terrifying cave. Three months of captivity during which he hadn't known if he'd make it out alive.

"Check all security systems," he ordered, while walking to his bar in the living room to pour himself a whiskey.

"But Mr. Stark, I haven't detected any unusual activity around the property."

"Do it anyway!"

It took a moment for the highly intelligent computer to answer again.

"All security systems are functioning properly. No reports about any abnormalities."

Tony nodded. "I know..."

He ran his hand over his forehead and realized he was sweating. He flopped down on the couch and just stared ahead. Overreacted. He had totally overreacted. Everything was fine.

It had been months now since the Ten Rings had attacked him at the presentation of his missile "Jericho", then abducted him to a cave in the middle of the desert and tortured him to force him to build them that very weapon. Although it had been so long ago, he could remember every inch of that cave. Especially the room where there had been nothing but this metal water trough and where they had tortured him repeatedly for weeks until he had agreed to build the Jericho. Well, he hadn't done that. Instead, he had built the armor - Iron Man.

"Sir…" Jarvis said carefully. "Your heart rate is still notable accelerated. Also, judging from the other body symptoms I've just analyzed, I must conclude... well... that you just had a panic attack."

Tony bit his lip. "You're kidding," he said and tried to laugh. He, fucking Tony Stark, having a panic attack?

"For once, I'm not."

"Jarvis, I was only having a bad dream."

"I suggest you tell Miss Potts about it."

"No," Tony said immediately. "No... It's just... it's nothing. Nothing to be concerned about."

"But I am quite concerned, sir."

"You're not. You're a computer," Tony said snorting. "I got this."

"Whatever you say, sir." Jarvis did not seem convinced, but decided not to contradict.

Tony stared at the amber liquid in the glass in his right hand and sipped it. It admittedly reminded him of his father. He had always seen his father drink; it had been a normal part of daily life. Tony clearly remembered Howard's critical look with which he had always regarded him, his persistent absence and disinterest, and the slight hint of alcohol on his breath, not strong, but constant. Tony sighed and finished his whiskey. He didn't want to be like his father at all… His eyes fell on his bar. Well, one more drink wasn't going to make him a Howard.

"Turn off the lights, except for the living room." It really didn't make any sense.

Jarvis ran his command without any comment. With his second glass of whiskey in hand, he walked out on the balcony. All he wanted was breathing. Breathing as much as he could. As if he could catch up on all the breaths he had been denied during the water torture.

Sighing, he tried to enjoy the amazing view of the ocean of Malibu. It was hard to forget Afghanistan when being forced to return there constantly in dreams. And that had happened a lot in the last few weeks. The terrorists had tortured him because he had been supposed to build them a deadly weapon. Because he had been a merchant of death, as some reporters in the media had called him.

Had. He would never manufacture weapons again. In future, he would fight to ensure that innocent people no longer had to suffer at the hands of arrogant idiots like him.

Tony looked at his watch. It was just after 1 am. The night was young, there were many possibilities.

"Jarvis?" Tony said, finished his drink and headed for his cars. "I'm out. Don't wait for me, honey."

"I'm sorry, but I think it's better for you to stop now, sir."

"I guess that's my decision."

"No. You've had enough."

Tony gave the bartender a scathing look and pointed to the empty glass of whiskey he was holding.„Refill it."

"I don't think so," the bartender replied, while drying a couple of glasses with a dirty rag.

"I don't usually take a 'no' for an answer and today is definitely not going to be the day I start taking one."

If Tony hadn't slurred his words so unmistakably, the bartender might have joined the discussion, but all he got was an unimpressed look.

"Do you even know who I am?!" Tony asked indignantly.

"Of course, sir. Tony Stark."

"AndIron Man! Which means I drink for two! So would you kindly pour me another drink?!" Tony said and shoved his glass forward.

"You are way to drunk, man. Pouring you another would be irresponsible."

Tony sighed, then took out his wallet, slammed five hundred-dollar bills on the counter and held up his glass again.

The bartender looked at him indecisively for a moment, then refilled the glass with whiskey. "The last one, Mr. Stark."

"Well, thank you very much for being so quick about it." Tony said sarcastically and took a sip of his Scotch.

It was almost six in the morning, and except for two young men, the bar was empty. Happy Hogan was already on his way to pick up Tony, but there was still enough time to enjoy this nightcap.

Tony felt the urgent need to call Pepper, but she had been a bit on the outs with him since he had publicly announced he was Iron Man. Four months had passed since then in which many people had camped out in front of his house and put up "I LOVE IRON MAN!" signs all over his lawn. He had had to hire extra security to keep them away from the house. People had even been following him every time he left the property. Gradually, though, the siege had eased. Tony had to admit that he had enjoyed it - Pepper, on the other hand, had been anything but thrilled. She had more workload than ever before – if that was even possible.

Tony emptied his glass in one go and watched as the bartender asked the two men to leave because he was closing up.

Had it been the right decision to say the words that had become so famous? The truth is... I am Iron Man.

It had changed so much. Too much. The way people looked at him. Expectant, demanding. He didn't know how to handle it. And... it had changed the way Pepper looked at him. Tony was not able to bring this thought to an end, because Happy, neatly dressed in a suit, entered the bar and walked up to him.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark", he said tired.

"Mornin', Happy." Tony rose from his seat, but he was so drunk that he only didn't fall because Happy was so quick to reach for him.

"I told you this wasn't a good idea," the bartender said as he passed them on his way back to the bar.

Ignoring the comment, Tony held on to the barstool. Yes, he had definitely underestimated his alcohol level. He could barely stand upright.

"Sir?" Happy asked worriedly. "Are you all right?"

"Yah. 've never felt better," Tony slurred.

Happy Hogan was kind of Tony's girl for everything, so to speak. He was his personal chauffeur and bodyguard, and part from that, he also had a friendly relationship with his boss. Sometimes they simply sat in one of Tony's cars and drove around, just talking and enjoying the speed or they were checking out girls at a party and making fun of people who were trying to be smarter than Tony.

Happy supported Tony on his way to the car. He made sure his boss was managing to get into the back seat of the car, before taking his seat at the wheel. He didn't say anything, when Tony didn't fasten his seat belt and drove off slowly.

Tony leaned his head back and had already loosened his tie. He couldn't tell how many whiskies he had downed. But it didn't matter. All he wanted was that numb feeling; that feeling that he didn't have to do anything and didn't have to care about anything. He was aware that Happy kept watching him through the rearview mirror, but he didn't care about that either. Maybe he wouldn't have another nightmare now that he was so drunk. At that was all that mattered… if anything mattered. Which was not the case.

Tony didn't realize he was home until Happy was next to him in the back seat, reaching out to him.

Happy then helped him to his bedroom, said something about a meeting Tony wasn't listening to and then took off Tony's shoes before quietly closing the door behind him.

Pepper looked at her watch with growing impatience. Ten minutes past eleven. Tony was late. Not that she was surprised. Quite the contrary, it was so well known that businesspeople mostly decided to be late as well. She got angry about this fact as she was always too early, she just couldn't help it.

Pepper sighed and searched for her phone in her purse. Tony was probably working in the workshop for hours not watching the time or he was still in bed, and she'd have to try a few times before he finally answered. He used to stay up very long at night lately. In fact, she wasn't successful until her third try. She knew him too well.

"Tony?"

She got nothing in reply except an obviously hungover croak. Ah, so this version today.

"Meeting, 11 a.m., Tony," she said in a snappy tone. "What time do you think it is?"

"…think it is…", Tony repeated slowly with a rough voice.

"Jesus!" Pepper exclaimed. "Get the hell over here!"

"Where is 'here'?"

"The Fortune Palace. Malibu. As I already told you yesterday."

"I don't think I can make it."

"I'm sure you can!" Pepper said sharply, looking around for possibly emerging business partners.

"I don't feel well, Pepper…"

"I don't care!"

There was a brief pause.

"All right then. Give me an hour."

"Are you out of your mi –"

"Just kidding, Pep. I'll get to you as soon as possible."

Pepper ended the call and frowned. This was so typical for him…

Tony lay in bed, trying to ignore the nausea and headache. The meeting. He had completely forgotten about it. Forgotten? Had he even known about it? Very slowly he sat up.

"Good morning, sir," the computer voice of Jarvis sounded through the room.

"Please spare me your mirth," Tony responded annoyed.

"I must say you are looking mighty fine today, Mr. Stark."

"I bet," Tony said, while getting out of bed. "What did I do wrong to make you so sassy? Save your sarcasm and tell Happy I have to go to this stupid meeting."

"Mr. Hogan is already waiting outside, sir, as he knows better about your appointments than you do."

"Be nice to me, Jarvis. My head is killing me."

"If you insist, my dear sir."

As fast as he could, Tony showered and slipped into a fresh suit. Then he stepped outside into the bright sunshine, immediately put on a pair of mirrored sunglasses, and got into the waiting car.

"Good Morning again," Happy greeted him from the driver's seat.

Tony didn't acknowledge him with a word and his driver instantly understood:Don't talk to me.

At a quarter to twelve, Tony arrived at the restaurant to find an angry Pepper and three well-dressed men. He waved his assistant over and gave the men a wide smile.

"Wow, that was fast," Pepper said sarcastically, while taking off his sunglasses.

"Hey!" he protested, blinking, but Pepper's angry expression silenced him. "So… what do they want, again?"

"Are you serious?" Pepper asked, stunned.

"What if I say yes?" Tony said carefully.

"The new concept of Stark Industries? Energy technologies? New contract partners? Interested in investments? Does that ring a bell?"

"Well… not exactly…"

Pepper sighed and pushed Tony toward the waiting men.

"Hold on, hold on, ok?" Tony said. "We haven't worked out a new concept yet."

"You haven't done that yet, right."

After two hours the meeting was over – successfully. Tony leaned back and ordered champagne while the businessmen said goodbye with a satisfied expression. He simply had told them what they wanted to hear, the best method to close a deal for something that didn't yet exist.

"I hope that's all for today," Tony said, toasting Pepper, who didn't touch her glass, but clearly seemed a little more relaxed.

"Your plane for France leaves in an hour."

Tony looked at her outraged.

"No, not really," Pepper smiled.

"Uh, wait a minute," Tony laughed. "Did you just try to make a joke?"

"Pathetic, wasn't it?"

"It… wasn't that bad."

The two stared at each other for a moment. Once again, it struck Tony how attractive he found this woman. And how much she meant to him. Especially since his return from Afghanistan, the incident with Obadiah, and since she knew about his (now no longer secret) second identity. Pepper was always by his side and already had been for years. Tony couldn't say there were many people who met that criterion.

"You look very beautiful today, Pepper," Tony said with a charming smile.

"Um, thanks, Tony."

Pepper looked away a bit embarrassed, which in turn made Tony uncomfortable, and also made him hide behind his sunglasses again. There was an awkward silence, so awkward, Tony downed his glass of champagne and immediately refilled it. Finally, Pepper cleared her throat.

"So… We're having the annual company party the day after tomorrow. In case you forgot."

"No, I didn't," Tony said, gratefully taking up the subject. "How many have accepted the invitation?"

"Too many." Pepper was anything but delighted.

"You'll come to the party, right?", Tony asked, therefore.

"Of course. Someone has to make sure the party won't escalate."

Tony had to grin involuntarily. All his parties – and even if it was just a company party – were something, people didn't forget... or they did, depending on how much they drank, and that was probably the only thing you could really count on at his parties.

"Well…there's at least one thing today we need to talk about", Pepper said and Tony could see how she tensed up a bit. "We've got three new requests from the military."

Tony's smile died abruptly. "We don't build weapons anymore."

"I know. It's just…" Pepper hesitated for a moment. "We're not making any money at the moment. We have nothing to sell. Nothing to offer. And since you haven't decided yet…"

"No."

"So what do we do?"

"Cancel and make clear that we are irrevocably out of the weapons business."

"And then?"

"And then what?" Tony noticed the angry tone in his voice.

"What are your plans for the company?"

"Energy technologies. I thought we'd already worked that out."

"We did. But that's not a plan. It's just an idea. You haven't done anything about it yet."

"That's because I'm busy."

"With what?"

"With things."

"Iron Man things?"

"No."

Tony sipped his champagne and looked away, not giving Pepper a chance to discuss it further. He didn't want to think about that right now.

A little later, they had Happy drive them back to his house.

"I'm going to answer a few more emails," Pepper said, sitting down on her favorite spot on the couch in the living room.

"Ok."

Tony directly made his way to the bedroom, closed the door behind him, and then sank down against it until he was sitting on the floor. He felt his heart beating hard and way too fast in his chest.

How many times they asked me about Obadiah, he thought with trembling hands. What did it have to do with Stark Industries' future plans what had happened a few months ago? What an impertinence of this men to ask him about something like that in the middle of a business lunch. They had no sense of decency.

Tony leaned the back of his head against the door, staring at the ceiling above him, trying to calm himself. He felt terrible.