Darkness. Pain. He couldn't see, couldn't feel anything besides the raging pain in his chest. His hands were numb, his legs wouldn't move. He opened his mouth but except for a pitiful gurgle, nothing made its way into the pitch black. What had happened?

Think. His brain had never let him down so far. Think. You can figure this out. It took a few moments for his hands to cooperate but finally, they started to move. He was lying on a hard surface, probably stone. He vaguely felt a thin fabric underneath his back and thighs what could be a blanket.

Any further inspections were interrupted by a new wave of white-hot pain shooting through his limbs and directly into his chest. This time he gasped aloud by the intensity of which it hit him and his back arched off the cold ground. After his hands had stopped cramping he hesitantly reached for the source of his suffering, afraid of what he might find there.

There were around 10 centimetres left before he should have reached skin but his fingers connected with something, something hard. Something made out of metal. His whole body froze. Don't. Panic. Whatever you do, don't you fucking panic now. Oh my god you fucking did it, you are going to have a panic attack in a dark and abandoned room which might actually be hell.

Air was leaving his weak body rapidly, the warm exhales the only thing warming his face. The fingers still glued to the middle of his chest slowly started examining the machinery. It appeared to be round and uneven, definitely metal, and it was attached to him. The urge to just rip it out was threatening to overtake him.

One quick pull and it would be over. Either he died and could leave this wretched world or he actually, against all odds, survived and wouldn't have to deal with a goddamn metal ball inside of him.

He was trying to get a good grip on it when he felt what appeared to be 2 cables which were connected to the metal ring. Oh for Christ's sake. Am I running on batteries now? Was only a matter of time, actually.

Abandoning the idea of ripping himself free he took a steady breath. He tried to clear his head but with not even the faintest clue where he actually was and a consistent pain in his body he had little energy left to do anything besides staying awake. He sent a silent prayer to god or whatever damned creature was the ruler of this place to at least give him the ability to see.

Apparently, someone heard him for a door was opened somewhere to his right. The cracking sound it made proved to be too much for his ears, who had bathed in the sound of complete silence (besides his heavy breathing) so far. His head buzzed and the fear crept up that his brain might actually be damaged.

The overstimulation of his senses continued when the barely opened door let a lonely crack of light into the room which, of course, landed right on his goddamn face. His eyes closed immediately but even with closed lids the world still was a horrid shade of orange.

He regretted his plea. Ignorance and darkness were so much better than having to face his situation because he knew that if he was to look down he'd see what had happened to his body. Please, just finish me off already. 

His insides were on fire and even though it must have been around 20 seconds since the light first hit him his vision was still a blurry mess of grey and yellow whenever he dared to open his eyes. He decided to sit up. 

A horrible decision, really.

The moment he tried to move his whole body for the first time in this lonely cave would be forever etched in his mind. To this day he never had felt that amount of pain at once. His fingers curled into a fist, even his toes started to cramp. He would have laughed at his ridiculously petty body if he wasn't so busy groaning his pain out aloud.

Well, I certainly won't try that again. The room got brighter and he figured that whoever was at the door wanted to get a closer look at the show he was putting on. After all, it was quite a spectacle to see Tony Stark writhing on the floor like a helpless infant.

Slowly, he lifted his still trembling right hand to shield his sensitive eyes but it turned out to be not necessary. A body leaned over him and blocked the unnatural light source which he was thankful for at this point. He still couldn't see a damn thing but the fact that someone else was in the room did more than just scare him.

Then he heard it, a voice, low and gravely. God, it sounded like someone just ate a whole cigarette package. For a few seconds he couldn't make out what the person was saying but he swore that he heard something along the lines of "Get him u-"

Two rough hands grabbed him under his upper arms and yanked him up. This is it. The end of Anthony Edward Stark. Alone, in a dirty cave, surrounded by nothing but filth. The old man is gonna be so disappointed. So much effort put into me continuing his legacy and all for nothing.

His eyes blinked open.

He slowly took in his surrounding. There were four men around him, two of them were holding his upper body up while his legs were still lying uselessly on the ground. Another one, a shabby looking fella, bold and with a scarf around his neck, was towering just a few inches above him. Cigarette mouth, he decided. If looks could kill he'd probably be a cold corpse on the ground already.

Tony didn't notice at first but there was another man with them, standing far behind the close asshole. Hair was only on his temples left and his broken glasses and out of control stubble separated him from the others, who even though not the prettiest lads, were clearly taking care of themselves. The man looked at him with a strange expression which came near compassion.

Great. If there was one thing he hated more than being kidnapped, it was being pitied. Pity didn't have any use whatsoever. Kidnapping, on the other hand, was usually a good way to get a nice amount of money from some smug rich idiot.

He got slapped. Hard. The blow made another groan leave his mouth. "I told you to listen! Is your name Anthony Tony Stark?" Cigarette mouth appeared to be angry. He knew Tony for, what, two minutes? and already hated him. Story of my life, I guess.

The first time he tried to answer his voice got stuck in his throat which earned him another slap. This time he felt his skin rip open on his cheek but compared to the other things that had happened in the last 10 minutes he didn't really mind. At least the fresh blood slowly trickling down his face distracted him from his chest.

"I don't like repeating myself, boy, so you better start talking."

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, he'd talk if he had been able to but his mouth felt like the Sahara. Couldn't someone get him something to water his mouth, like a nice calming whiskey?

"I think he needs something to drink first."

Tony's eyes shot to the man in the back. Finally someone with a functioning brain. As it turned out he was the only one in the group. Without taking his eyes off him, fashionista replied:

"Oh, he'll get a good drink, once he's started to cooperate. Now..."

He grabbed Tony's by the back of his head and pulled him backwards. He could feel how greasy his hair was. How long have I been here? He met the eyes of his tormentor, a dark shade of brown locked onto him. Oh, what he'd give to rather look at a pair of blue ones right now.

"Your. Name."

Tony took a deep breath and, never breaking eye contact with him, said:

"Well, would be a shame if you got the wrong guy now, would it?"

Talking back to someone clearly in control wasn't his best idea but he seriously couldn't care less. After all, he appeared to be a robot now. What more could they do to him?

He expected another slap or something worse but not the shit-eating grin that spread across his opposites face.

"It's him. Welcome, Mister Stark."

"Mister Stark is my father.", he explained, voice cracking and on the edge to disappearing again. His throat hurt like hell and he desperately wanted to sleep. "I'm just his embarrassing child."

The hand in his hair let go and started drifting towards his cheek where it halted and slowly petted it. What is this? Silence of the fucking lambs?

"Well, let's hope you are wrong about that. It would be quite a shame for Howard Stark to have his only legacy be a disappointment."

His fingers were oily and just too rough on his broken cheek. Not at all what he was used to, what he craved right now. Nevertheless, a rough chuckle forced his way out at that last comment.

"You just wait, he'll eventually find a way to replace me."

It was intended to sound funny but after considering it for a short moment, it actually sounded like something the old man would do the minute he had the chance.

The dirty smile he received actually sent a shiver down his spine. By god, that man was ugly. Thankfully, he let go of him and reached into the pocket of his long brown coat to pull something out. It looked like a crumpled picture but from his current position, Tony couldn't see what it showed.

"Oh, I seriously doubt that, Mister Stark.", he almost whispered before turning around. Walking to the man in the back he pressed the picture into his thin hands and leaned into him. Hushed words were exchanged in a language that was unfamiliar to Tony's ears.

Then he raised his hand and, with a snap, the two men let go of him. Well, not really let go of him but more like violently pushed him to the floor. His reflexes probably saved him from a broken jaw and whatever would have happened when the metal thing in his chest connected with the ground.

Kneeling on the floor he didn't notice three of the four men slowly leaving. Before the sound of a closed-door echoed in the room, a light was switched on. All the while, Tony stayed with his head bowed and hands spread out in front of him on the floor. I probably look like a dying animal.

Several moments passed where nothing but heavy breathing could be heard and occasionally, his blood dripping from his cheek and onto the stone before a quiet voice with a heavy accent spoke up.

"Do you need help getting up?"

"No, I just admire the view at the moment.", he hissed back angrily.

Having to admit that he was in need of help wasn't something anyone would like to do but for Tony it was especially hard since a camera was always nearby, lurking and gawking like a vulture. Privacy wasn't something he was used to.

Soft footsteps could be heard and shortly after he was grabbed again, this time it was an arm who snarked himself way around his stomach and carefully pulled him up. The other hand reached down beside him and picked up- IS THAT A CAR BATTERY ATTACHED TO ME?!

"Easy now, we don't want you getting hurt.", the man soothed while slinging Tony's arm around his shoulder and escorting him with slow limping steps away from the middle of the room.

"Taking precautions now, are we? Should have told that the two guys who were determined to crash my face into the ground."

His legs almost gave in when he spotted a mattress in a corner at the far end of the room. It was a shabby thing, full of holes and littered with weird yellow and brown stains but right now, it looked like heaven.

Slowly, his body was turned and pushed onto the mattress so he was leaning with his back against the wall which, even though a little rough, turned out to be a good supporter for his hurting back. The battery was placed beside him.

He lifted his head to be greeted by a concerned face and a glass of water. He had no idea where it came from but he thankfully took it and downed it in one go. The cool liquid trickled down his throat bringing new energy into his limbs.

"Are you alright?", the man asked while he walked over to a desk and started pulling open different drawers. "I reckon by now you figured out that something isn't right with you."

"Are you talking about the fact that someone has turned me into a cyborg?", Tony mumbled, distracted by the inspection of what turned out to really be a car battery. His chest was connected. To. A. Battery.

"That someone was me and you're welcome by the way." A small mirror was pressed into his hands. "Go on, take a look at it, Stark. I think you will be quite impressed."

So far, he had refused to look at it but the temptation was too much. Placing the mirror in front of his chest and gazing down the sight he was met with was hideous.

The metal ring was even bigger than he expected and even more ugly. The skin around it was damaged, old, dried blood stains making it all even worse. Quickly, he put the mirror down.

"Impressed? Thanking you? Are you insane?!" His outbreak was interrupted by a series of loud coughs. Clearly, that one glass of water hadn't been enough. After having regained a certain amount of composure, Tony spoke up again, much quieter this time.

"What the hell did you do to me?"

The man took a seat in a chair across him. "What I did? I already told you what I did. I saved your life. I removed all the shrapnel I could but there is a lot left and it's headed into your-"

"Wait a minute, I'm not following. Shrapnel? Why were there shrapnel in me?" He had gone from angry to confused the longer his opposite kept talking. What is he on about?

It was his turn to look confused then, but only for a second before an understanding look appeared on his face which was followed by a short nod.

"Of course. Temporary loss of memory is quite common after an accident like that.", he explained more to himself. "Well, I guess I have to fill in the gaps until your memories return." He leaned forward, eyes fixed on Tony's. "What do you remember?"

"I-" He broke off. Good question, actually. What did he remember? "I remember sitting in a car."

"Where?", came the encouraging voice.

"In the back seat." Tony couldn't help but snicker at the annoying look he received. "I don't know where. I think I just returned from a weapon demonstration." He closed his eyes as the memory came flooding back. The presentation had been a success, earning Stark Industries the biggest deal to this day.

Not something to be happy about, judging from Howard Stark's mood throughout the day. Of course, Tony was used to the cold treatment he received from him but after he managed to secure that deal at least a thank you would have been in order.

But there was nothing besides a short nod. Not even a small smile of gratitude. Nothing. The old man just proceeded to talk with the partners. Usually, he just ignored the disappointment that spread inside him, that made him a bit colder towards the world but that time it was too much.

Angrily, he had excused himself and got into one of the waiting military cars, determined to return to their hotel and ignore him for the rest of the trip. He was taking pictures with one of the soldiers in the backseat when-

It all came back.

With a startled gasp he clutched his chest, almost falling over in the process. He remembered. Oh god, he remembered it all. The faces of the soldiers as they died trying to protect him, the holes in the car as machine guns were mercilessly fired at it.

He remembered practically flinging himself out of the car, ignoring the instruction of the now dead soldiers just minutes before, and tumbling through the massacre in search for some shelter.

He remembered squashing himself behind a tiny rock, the only protection he could find, and pulling out his phone to dial the number of-

He remembered the missile that landed beside him, how it ticked just long enough for him to stand up and shield his face and then exploded. He could still feel the power with which he was flung back and onto the ground.

He was panting loudly and barely noticed another glass of water getting pressed into his hand, which he almost let go of thanks to his twitching fingers. A shaking hand brought the glass to his chapped lips. This time the water seemed to get stuck in his throat causing him to splutter it all over himself.

"You need to breathe, Stark. Long, deep breaths. There we go." He had sat down on the mattress beside Tony and placed a supporting hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing it. Well, that wasn't something he was used to. Comfort from an older man, what an extraordinary experience.

"Feeling better?"

His head whipped around to stare the man down. "Better?! I got close to being blown up by a missile with my family name on it! There are cables coming out of my body and I'm likely going to die." He lightly pulled on one of the cables to emphasize his last statement.

"You-", came a quiet reply but Tony ignored it. He was just getting started.

"And even IF I get out of this hell, which is unlikely, my father will still find a way to blame this all on me. Thinking about it, maybe I don't want to get out of here after-"

"Your father won't be able to blame you for anything ever again."

The remark hung heavily between them. The comment from cigarette mouth came back to him. Tony knew what it implied, after all, what genius would he be if he didn't? What a shame that there was a difference between understanding and accepting.

"What are you implying?", he asked after several more moments of awkward silence.

The quiet sigh was more than enough of an answer.

"I think you know what that means, Stark. Shortly after you got attacked they went for the rest of them. No survivors."

"That isn't possible. We had an escort-"

"And what a marvellous job they did at guarding you."

Anger sparked inside him. Soldiers had given their life's trying to protect him and here they were being disrespected. They were caught off guard and outgunned. He pouted his lips to keep a snarky remark from coming out.

"So you want to tell me that the old man is really dead?", he threw at him matter of factly. To be honest, he was shocked at how little he cared. That was his father they were talking about.

But there was nothing. Maybe it was the shock, maybe it wasn't. Damn, he was more upset about the dead soldiers. That's because they actually cared about you, a little voice in the back of his head whispered.

"I'm sorry, Stark."

He shrugged. "It's alright. We had it coming all along." A shiver ran through his body and he only now really realised that he was bare-chested and the cold from the cold wall started creeping into his bones.

Still having a hand on his shoulder the man, of course, noticed it. "Here." He got up quickly and disregarded of his heavy coat. It was handed to Tony and he slung it over his shoulders while muttering a quiet thanks.

He picked up the little mirror beside him again and another question to his mind. "So, what is this exactly?"

"Why don't you reach into the right pocket first. You'll find a nice souvenir there what will help to explain it."

Rolling his eyes, he eventually did as he was told and pulled out a little glass vial. It was filled with little pointy fragments and smears of blood. With a raised eyebrow he waited for the elaboration.

"I've seen many wounds like that in my village. They call it The Walking Dead because it takes about a week for the shrapnel to reach the vital organs. That-" He pointed at the thing in his chest. "Is an electromagnet hooked up to a car battery and it's keeping them from entering your heart."

Tony defensively pulled the heavy coat more tightly around him, successfully hiding the magnet. Out of sight, out of mind. He tried to change the subject.

"That man from earlier, he gave you a picture and said something to you." The man nodded and walked back to the desk where he apparently disposed of the photograph earlier. He threw it at Tony.

"Know what that is?", he asked and his voice took on a more irritated tone. Tony soon found out why. He recognised the picture immediately.

"That's the Jericho, the weapon we presented right before-" Bad idea thinking about it.

A flash of pain knocked the breath out of him. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to fight the rising panic inside him. Alright, thinking about it is apparently a no go. Noted. He cleared his throat. "It's one of Stark Industries newest weapons."

"They want you to build it."

His answer came immediately. "I refuse." He'd never do anything for these assholes, especially building that weapon. The word mass destruction was not enough to describe the damage it could do.

"They won't like to hear that, Stark."

"I don't care."

Only that he did, just not enough to betray his country. Too many people were relying on him. Howard Stark was dead, he was the face of Stark Industries now and he'd do anything to keep their creations away from this place.