chapter xiv.
(   iron man   )

don't need money,
don't need fame,
i just want   to
make   a   change
oh no! ─── marina and the diamonds

malibu, california
may 13, 2010

Then he's gone just as quickly as he came. I sit there for a long time, trying to control my flow of tears. My head is all jumbled again and it's hard to think straight. Eventually I push myself off of the floor and stumble to a far away bathroom where I'm sure no one else will be. With trembling hands, I pull out an extra toilet roll from the cabinet and begin balling the paper up to press against the slice. There's blood on my hands and all over my dress, messing up any chance I have at remaining indiscreet about all of this.

As a small pile of bloodied toilet paper forms on the counter before me, I think back to when this was all my life was and it's terrifying to think that I'm going backwards. I wash off my face, but it doesn't do much good because my face is still red and puffy. The slice has stopped bleeding, but it's still way too noticeable. I don't have any other choice but to go back out there though. I'm just making my way down the long hallway when I see Dad jogging around the corner.

When he sees me, his eyes widen and he throws his hand up over his heart in relief, "Oh, thank God! Where were you?!"

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out as my heels clip closer.

As Dad nears, he catches sight of my blotchy face and the new wound I'm sporting.

He sounds scared and actually angry when he asks, "What happened?"

How easily I lie is astonishing.

"I needed a break from the party so I took a walk. I slipped and cut myself on some old, sharp doorhande. It just hurts a lot, that's why I've been crying."

He is not convinced, but he sighs, trying to calm himself down from whatever edge he is on, "Does it need stitches? Here, let me see."

When he moves closer, I instinctively flinch and step back. I lick my bottom lip and clench my jaw, angry at myself for not letting him touch me. I know he'd never hurt me. He does his best to hide the hurt and anger on his face. His outstretched hands drop to his sides as he stares at me, studying, analyzing. He knows I'm lying.

"Lees," he says very slowly, "did someone hurt you?"

My face pulls back in a surprised and annoyed expression, "What? No, Dad, I told you what happened. Do you know how infuriating it is that you're questioning me?"

"Lisa, I'm serious," his eyes narrow and his jaw sets.

"Yeah, so am I," I give him the same stubborn expression.

"Lisa," he says in a warning tone.

"Dad, stop it!" I snap, "I'm fine! Just give me some space for once, geez!"

His eyebrows raise irritatedly and he blinks, "Fine."

"Fine."

He gives that breathy, sarcastic laugh, "Well then. I came to find you to let you know that we're leaving."

I mumble a reply before walking with him down the hallway. He doesn't look over at me, clearly frustrated by my response. Well, that's just fine because I'm frustrated too, but I'm not really sure why I'm taking it out on him. I should just tell him. Tell him about Edgar. Tell him about what he used to do to me. Tell him about the phone call last week. Tell him about seeing him at the party. Tell him about his attack and his words. I open my mouth and look at his face. His eyes are focused and distant. That's when I notice the papers in his hand. They're obviously photos, but of what I can't tell. I don't want to ask. I want to keep showing my annoyance and displeasure. But my curiosity gets the better of me and I forget about my resolve to tell him anything that I should.

"What are those?" I nod to his hand.

His hands turn to fists as he pushes the photos in my direction, guiding me through the party towards the exit. I take the pictures from him and stare down at them. The first picture is what looks like a destroyed village and the next is a picture of men carrying guns with a very familiar men walking behind them. Raza, the scary one. The one who ordered I be dunked and held underwater for minutes at a time. I gasp and look up at Dad, sharply.

"That's,"

"Yep," he says shortly as we make our way out the doors.

I quickly look back down at the photos, next seeing a crate of weapons with the Stark Industries' logo across it. Then a big picture of what I think is the Jericho missile. My heart sinks as I come to terms with the fact that what we went through in Afghanistan is not yet over. It's presence was never really gone, just hiding in the shadows, waiting to come out. But what do these photos mean?

As soon as we are in the safety of the car, I start babbling, "Is Stark Industries selling to the Ten Rings? That's how they got all of our weapons! I guess I just thought they were ripping us off; stealing them, you know. But are we selling to them?! Did you know about this? Of course you didn't know, but did Obie know? Who was involved in this? Were these taken before or after we were kidnapped? I swear to God, if we're selling to them, I'm gonna,"

"You're not gonna do anything," Dad snaps, giving me a hard stare before looking back at the road, "I had no idea. Obie did. We're double-dealing. We weren't creating weapons to defend or protect anybody; we were making them to fuel a war because it's good business," he shakes his head angrily before nodding to the photos still in my hands, "That little town you see in that first photo, yeah? It's Gulmira. Sound familiar?"

I stare at him in disbelief, "Yinsen."

He doesn't respond. His face only gets angrier. Neither of us speak the rest of the way home. When we get there, we go our separate ways. He heads down to the workshop while I go to my room. When I enter it, it feels like I'm coming to a place I haven't been in months. I've hardly been in here ever since we returned from Afghanistan and it's an absolute mess. I wade through the disaster on my floor over to my bed. I lie down on it and stare up at the ceiling.

The sight of Gulmira, the home of Yinsen, the place he called good, being so destroyed makes me sick to my stomach. It nearly feels like seeing him die again because it was a place that he loved. The last piece of him that I thought still existed. I grip onto a pillow on my bed and throw it across the room, watching it crash into my window and disturb the curtains. Obie selling weapons to the Ten Rings is despicable, but I'm not naive enough to think that a lot of weapons manufacturing companies don't do the same kind of sales. He's, we're, just like everybody else. I want to change that. I want to change all of this.

My entire conversation with Edgar sets upon me and my hand immediately flies up to my chest. My fingers gingerly touch the slice and I'm left wincing at the pain. It's deep and it may very well need stitches, but I'm not about to rehash all of that again. I need to get my mind off of it. I have to do something. And that's when I make my decision.

I'm on a plane before anyone even knows I am. I called a few people I met when Dad and I were rescued in Afghanistan and it turns out that a lot of people don't mind having the daughter of Tony Stark owe them a favor. Besides, I guess I've inherited the Stark ability for persuasion. And that's how I, a fourteen year old heiress, am on my way into war-torn Afghanistan once more, but this time I'm all by myself without any military protection and, naturally, without parental consent.

I've ensured that I am wearing clothes appropriate to where I will be assisting, hoping that this will at least help me blend in a little bit. My eyes stay trained on the big crates of supplies that I've brought with me as if afraid that when I look away, they'll disappear and I won't be able to help anyone. The flight to Afghanistan is long, but significantly shortened by some helpful Stark inventions that I 'borrowed' in order to get here quicker. A few friendly locals help me carry me the crates inland in order to reach any sign of civilization that I can help.

The conditions of the people of Gulmira are even worse than I imagined. Men, women, and children are climbing through the rocky dirty and rubble in order to reach some place of safety. So many of them are underdressed, not at all suited for the chilling climate they are battling against. I give them as many blankets and coats as I can, but it never seems like enough, because before I know it, suddenly there are ten other people who need the same things. The crates are soon emptied as I hand out food and water. Children with sunken in faces and extended, malnourished bellies reach out to me for food and I try to help them as best as I can. We trudge on through the rocks, trying to find whatever crude dwellings we can find for them to take shelter in. I slip through the long crowd of people easily, carrying small children for their exhausted mothers or helping an old man pull his cow or feeding an injured man. I know that it will never be enough, but I can't rest knowing that these people have been hurt because of something done in my family's name.

Too caught up in my thoughts and not paying attention, I slip and my knee scrapes against a rock. I groan and pull myself out of the way so I don't get accidentally trampled by the moving crowd. Wincing, I gently touch the stinging flesh. A little girl immediately runs up to me and says something quickly in what I'm guessing is Urdu or Arabic. She keeps repeating it over and over, pointing at my small scrape.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't," I shake my head and think back to the words that I studied on the flight over here, "Maedhira, maedhira, 'ana la 'afham." Sorry, sorry, I don't understand.

The little girl looks up at me and begins to laugh.

I smile a little, "Oh, yeah, I know, Kid. My pronunciation sucks. I'm probably not even using the right words either."

She giggles again and then pokes at my scrape.

"Ouch! Hey, you're cute, but that doesn't give you a free pass here," I smile and shake my head, "Hadha yulim, you see, uh, kun latifina." That hurts. Be gentle.

"Aadila!" a panicked voice calls out and I look up as a young man runs over and quickly begins scolding the little girl.

The little girl responds before jabbing her finger back at my scrape. I wince and frown. She's clearly not aware of the two words 'personal' and 'space'. The man looks from her to me, and I give a polite smile and nod.

"Marhabaan," I try. Hello.

He puts out his hand and then says in English, "Hello. I am Aalem."

"Oh," I shake his hand, "I'm Lisa."

"Yes, I have heard about you from the others here. Many wish to give their thanks," he tells me with a smile.

Guilt washes over me.

"Well, that's not necessary," I stand and dust off my hands, "I'm just glad I can help."

He nods and the little girl tugs at my traditional-looking blue coat.

"She is Aadila, my daughter," he tells me.

She reaches her arms up and I laugh, hoisting her into my arms. Aalem, Aadila, and I walk together for a while. Aadila plays with my hair, stroking and petting at it like it's some kind of new species. She occasionally asks me questions that I have no idea what she means so I simply shrug and she giggles and pokes at the dimples on my cheeks. Usually my dimples remind me only of Edgar's nickname for me, but this time I find that I don't really mind. Aalem shares some of his story and I hear how the terrorist group, called the Ten Rings, has taken over Gulmira and is around every corner. Now where have I heard of them before? They've taken away men, women, and children. He tells me that they've taken his wife and he hopes to find her in this upcoming town. I smile and encourage him, knowing more than likely that his wife is dead.

The town we're nearing is a disaster and I feel worse at the observation, knowing Aalem's hopes. The buildings are falling down and the streets are covered in rubble and debris. When our large group enters the small town, I'm still carrying Aadila. She's just asking me another question when I hear a loud scream and then gunfire. I jolt back and then suddenly men are pouring onto the streets with guns. Bullets are flying everywhere as people begin running. Aalem is nowhere to be found and Aadila is clinging around my neck as I duck and sprint like the rest of them. I hear an explosion and, as I look back over my shoulder, I feel sick to my stomach when I recognize what I'm seeing. The Jericho. A wave of dirt envelopes the sky and I shelter the little girl in my arms.

Suddenly the large group of women that I am running with halts at the sight of three men with guns standing before us. I turn and hold Aadila behind me, praying that when the bullets fly that they don't go through me to her. But they don't shoot us. Instead, they motion us past them and shove and kick at us, herding us like cattle. I glance around quickly, searching for Aalem. I think I see him among the men, on his knees with a gun to his head. Large boxes of weapons are all around and being stacked into awaiting vehicles. A large man stands in the middle of the chaos and my insides drop when I recognize him. Scarface. He's shouting orders, motioning this way and that. I duck my head and bury my face in Aadila's hair, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible.

I'm not surprised though when I discover that today is not my lucky day. A hand digs into my hair and tears my head back. I grit my teeth and glare into Scarface's dark eyes. His eyes widen and he laughs in joy of seeing me. He calls out to a few of the others around him, bringing even more attention to me. As he begins to drag me forward, I desperately shove Aadila into the arms of the woman nearby before complying to his grip. He keeps yelling at me, but I have no clue what he means.

This is unbelieveable. It really is. I ran away from my home in order to escape one man who is bent on destroying me only to bump into another. It just really couldn't get any worse. The thought of dying finally crosses my mind when he motions for one of the other men to come over. Is his meaning to shoot me? Is it to do something else to me? Maybe it is both, I can't tell. But I know that I don't want to die. No, I most certainly want to live.

Suddenly I hear this loud noise from above and I raise my eyes to see a red and gold body flying through the air towards us. The suit lands hard and onto one knee, clanking against the hard ground.

I stare at it like it's a ghost. Maybe Scarface already had his men shoot me and this is all in my head because this cannot be real. The suit, my father, pulls up and stands, staring at the terrorists surrounding him. The man hovering behind me begins shooting at the metal, uselessly. Dad promptly steps over and swings his arm up into the man's stomach, sending him flying.

I sprint and slide on my side across the gravel before grabbing onto Aadila and sheltering her once more. I duck at the sounds of the fight, but keep watching as Dad swiftly turns around and uses his thruster to shoot a man into the wall. I hear the man's body crunch as Dad turns onto the next man, shooting him as well. Both of the thrusters on his hands raise as he kills another.

Dad whirls around to finish the job and then immediately stops in realization. The rest of the women and children, Aadila and myself included, are being held at gunpoint by the remaining terrorists. My heart thuds in my chest as I stare at the gold and red mask. His thrusters slowly lower and I can hear the humming below the sounds of panicked screams and angry yells. A few seconds pass by as Dad continues to analyze the situation before small guns appear out of his suit and shoot each and every one of the terrorists. Everything goes silent and I blink as Dad's weapons move back into his suit. Aalem is suddenly there and taking the little whimpering girl from my arms. He rocks her and I flash back to the time when that was my own father and me. Aalem looks up at me with teary eyes and mutters his thanks over and over again. I shake my hand, breathing heavily and glancing up at the man in the metal armor.

His feet crunch against the gravel and he walks over to a nearby wall. Suddenly his fist punches through it and then he's yanking a man out into the open. I see Scarface lying before us, panicked and fearful. As I look back at my father, he pauses by my side and his mask turns down at me. I can practically see his glare through the metal, expressionless face. My eyes flicker away.

I'm unprepared for when he shoots into the air, leaving me without a word. I stare up as he flies away only for him to suddenly be shot down. I gasp and watch as a large puff of dirt bursts up when he plummets into the earth. Frozen, I stand there as fiery explosion erupts near him. When I see his suit begin to fly once more, I sigh in relief before saying a few quick farewells to the people around me. Then I'm sprinting away and sliding into a ruined building where throw my bag down and rummage through it. When I find one of the high-tech Sat phones that my father designed, I press a couple buttons and shove it against my ear, waiting for my connection to hack into Dad's earpiece.

Suddenly I'm hearing Rhodey's voice say, "Yeah, well, I need your help right now."

"Rhodey?" I question, confusedly.

"Hey Lisa," he responds in a clipped and busy tone.

"Lisa," my father says slowly and angrily.

Then, at the same time, we both snap, "When I get home, you're so dead!"

"What? Me?!" I shout, my voice gaining a slightly higher pitch in disbelief.

"Yes, you! Most definitely you!" Dad shouts back, "I cannot believe you went behind my back like this and then," he growls in frustration, "You're grounded forever, you hear me?!"

"Hey!" Rhodey breaks in.

"What?!" Dad and I shout at him.

"We have a serious problem over here," Rhodey starts, "we've got a weapons depot that was just blown up a few clicks from where you two were being held captive."

"Uh oh," I say quietly.

"'Uh oh'? Why are you saying 'uh oh', Lisa Stark?" I can practically see Rhodey's eyes narrowing.

"She just spilled her soda all over the car," Dad saves my behind before taking a deep breath, "Anyway, well, that's a hot spot. Sounds like someone stepped in and did your job for you, huh?"

"Why do you sound out of breath, Tony?" Rhodey asks accusingly.

I squint, angrily, "Yeah, why do you sound out of breath, Dad?"

"I'm not, I was just jogging in the canyon,"

"I thought you two were driving,"

"Right, we were driving to the canyon, where I'm going to jog."

"Mm, very credible," I sass, "Your excuses seem a little out of order, Dad, do you need some time to rearrange them before you get back to us?"

"Zip it, Lisa, or do you want me to add 'and eternity' to your punishment of 'forever'?"

I scoff.

Rhodey continues, "You sure you don't have any tech in that area I should know about?"

"Nope," Dad answers shortly and nonchalantly.

I hear a voice in the background yell, "Bogie spotted!"

That's not good.

"Okay, good, 'cause I'm staring at one right now, and it's about to be blown to kingdom come," Rhodey hangs up.

My eyes widen, "Um, hey Dad?"

"That's my exit," Dad suddenly says.

I hear a lot of commotion on his end of the line before I hear Jarvis say, "Inbound missile."

"Dad!" I panic.

"Flares!" he commands.

Then he's yelling and I'm still panicking. The noises and yelling keep going on until Dad starts redialing Rhodey.

"Hello?" he sounds pretty irritated.

"Hi, Rhodey, it's me," Dad wheezes slightly.

"It's who?"

"I'm sorry, it is me. You asked. What you were asking about is me," Dad continues to wheeze and I have to sit down.

Rhodey starts scolding, "No, see, this isn't a game. You do not send civilian equipment into my active war zone. You understand that?"

"This is not a piece of equipment," Dad hurriedly explains.

"Rhodey, it's a suit! He's in it!" I yell, "Oh Gosh, please, don't blow my father to kingdom come!"

Dad hurriedly shouts, "It's me!"

There is a lot more yelling and banging and I'm pretty sure my dad almost dies once, but suddenly I hear Rhodey and Dad going back to their regular bantering before they hang up.

I let out a heavy breath, "Dad,"

"I'll see you at home," the line goes dead.

Welp, Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm screwed.

How about Lisa going to Afghanistan? Talk about running away from your problems. I was trying to figure out how to include Lisa in on the whole Gulmira attack and this scene was almost entirely and darkly different in an 'what if Lisa was still at home' thought process. I liked this more. But she's insane. Kids these days, right? I love that scene so much and I hope I did it justice when it comes to adding Lisa into the mix! Welp, the next chapter is going to be super daddy-daughter tension and eventual fluff and agony and it's great.

So.... join me tomorrow!

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