chapter vii.
( iron man )

yes, i'm in a bang with a gang
they've got to   catch   me
if they want   to hang
yes,   i'm back in black
back in black ─── ac/dc

kunar province, afghanistan
january 24, 2010
( eleven years later )

The ice clinks against the inside of my father's glass as the truck trudges along across the rocky terrain. "Back In Black" is blasting in my ears as I pull my legs up to get a better position for my sketchbook. It's definitely not an easy task to accurately sketch anything when the entire vehicle you are in is shaking. There's a pretty cute, maybe about seventeen year old soldier to my left and I can feel him maybe glancing at me now and then. I can't resist sending a few glances myself. Suddenly, as if he can read my thoughts, my father's elbow is bumping into mine and the graphite scratches across the white paper. I shoot a glare in his direction as he stifles a laugh. He quickly apologizes to which I shake my head at, disbelieving.

Jerkface.

Finally he lets out a long sigh, "Alright, that's enough inactivity from the rest of you. I'm gonna drive my kid insane if I don't talk to anyone else," uh, yeah, too late for that one, "I feel like you're all taking me to a court-martial. This is crazy. What did I do? I feel like you're going to pull over and snuff me. What, you're not allowed to talk?" he glances over to the cute soldier on my other side, "Hey Forrest!"

"Dad," I scold quietly.

"We can talk, Sir,"

"Oh, I see. So it's personal?"

"No, you intimidate them," a female voice says from in front of us.

Both of our heads snap in the soldier's direction.

"Good God! You're a woman! I honestly... I wouldn't have called that,"

Now it's my turn to elbow him in the arm.

He doesn't seem to notice though as he continues on, "I mean, I'd apologize, but isn't that what we're going for here? I thought of you as a soldier first."

The soldier smirks as she says, "I'm an airman."

"You have, actually, an excellent face," he nods at me before motioning to the soldier, "There you go, Lees, try drawing that bone structure."

I roll my eyes, but smile at his teasing. He continues to prattle on, trying to break the ice. The soldiers eventually get more involved, excited to be talking to him. The great Tony Stark. I don't really see what the big deal is though. I mean, I get to see him every morning with greasy hair and smelly breath. He's pretty average enough to me. Suddenly the soldier to my left lifts up his hand like he's in elementary school and Dad scolds him with such an attitude that it makes me want to laugh.

"Is it cool if I take a picture with you?" the soldier, a.k.a Cute But Not Bright, asks, nearly giddy.

"Yes. It's very cool," his somewhat condescending, somewhat teasing voice makes me smirk.

Dad leans in and I lean forward to get out of the way before Cute But Not Bright blushes and says, "Wait, uh, I meant you too, Miss Stark."

Dad frowns and I know it is not because I am taking up part of his picture.

"Oh, o-ok-kay," I stutter embarrassed before I lean in to smile, "That's, um, cool."

Oh my gosh, I'm so awkward.

I'm like a walnut.

An awkward walnut.

When Cute But Not Bright holds up a peace sign, Dad tells him seriously, "Please, no gang signs."

He hurriedly drops his hand and I heave a sigh, "He's just joking."

Dad smirks a bit, "Yeah, just kidding. Throw it up. Yeah, peace. I love peace," he begins to grumble a bit, "I'd be out of a job with peace."

"Alright, let's just call off the peace negotiations then," I roll my eyes, "I mean, we wouldn't want world peace to get in the way of us accumulating more wealth! I wonder what we would ever do without a war going on? Would we have to sell the mansion?"

Dad lightly chuckles.

The soldier in front of us struggles with the camera as Cute But Not Bright to my left tells him to hurry up. I'm still smiling at the camera when suddenly one of the trucks before us explodes.

Dad instinctively pulls my head down and covers me. I feel the jolt through my bones as that vehicle bursts into fire and debris. Panic rushes through me and my whole body is shaking and my breathing is out of control. Dad quickly asks what's going on before the woman soldier climbs out of the car. Suddenly there is gunfire and she's crying out. I scream when I see that she's dead.

The soldier in front of us yells back hurriedly, "Jimmy, stay with the Starks!"

"Stay down!" Cute But Not Bright pushes the two of us down and Dad continues to shield me as best as he can.

The gunfire doesn't stop and then suddenly the other soldier is dead, slamming back into the windshield. The other trucks are exploding, going up in flames. The camo-dressed men and women shoot back at our attackers, but there is blood everywhere. I can't think. I can't even breathe. Cute But Not Bright, or Jimmy, is now the only soldier left from our vehicle and he's screaming and then he's out of the truck with a big weapon in his hands.

Dad hurriedly stretches out a hand towards him, "Wait, wait, wait! Give me a gun!"

"Stay here!" Jimmy screams just before a storm of bullets pierce his body.

Dad throws his arm around me, yanking me nearly on top of him. I scream as the bullets slice through the metal of the truck, leaving holes beside us. I stare at the streams of light on my skin, dazed. Suddenly Dad is throwing the side door of the truck open and dragging me out behind him. He slams my back against the truck when a bomb dives and explodes into the ground near us. He supports my weight, running us across the uneven dirt. We skid to a stop before he pulls us down behind a large rock for shelter as the gunfire continues. Debris rains down from the sky and I struggle to breathe as smoke fills my senses.

I watch Dad, wordlessly, as he pulls out his phone and presses an array of buttons in hopes of signaling for help.

There's this sudden thud into the earth beside us and we look over at it, full of dread.

Only five feet from our bodies lies a large bomb with the name 'Stark' literally written across it. It's like it's destined for us. Dad digs his hands into my shoulders, yelling and throwing us away from the bomb just before it explodes. My body is flung down against the hard ground and there's an aching ring in my ears, but I'm pretty sure the gunfight is still going on. All I can taste is dirt as I slowly open my eyes, peering around. Dad lays a few feet from me, arms sprawled out, moaning slightly. His hands grasp at the dirt, like he's searching for something. I want to go to him, but I can't get my body to move.

His hands pull back to his chest as he watches a strange red liquid suddenly begin to infest and grow upon his blue shirt. He tears it open and looks down at the blood. His head falls back and his eyes flutter closed.

I can't breathe as I crawl over him and stare at his unmoving body. I'm not sure what takes over me as I tear the sleeve off of my shirt. I crumple it up into a ball and press it against his bleeding chest, quickly. I think I'm talking to him, trying to get him to hear me, but I honestly can't hear myself. I don't even know what I'm saying. Dark shadows suddenly cover our bodies and I crane my neck back to look. About twenty men with AK-47s and scarves surround us, glaring. Some are watching us while some are turned around and shooting back at what's left of the convoy. I open my mouth to say something until I realize I don't know what to say at all.

What do I say to bargain for our lives when they are still working on killing everyone else?

One man steps forward and then he's grabbing onto me, yanking me away from Dad. I scream and kick at him, fighting desperately. There are loud, familiar yells in the background and I think I recognize Rhodey's voice among them. I get my attacker in the stomach before I thrash away, landing on the ground. More men dive towards me as my hand finds a nearby rock and I slam it against one of their heads. I move to swing again when a sharp hand clasps my wrist, digging their fingers in so that I have no choice but to drop the bloody object. I stare up at the man with terror. He's tall, darker-skinned, bald, and has eyes that make my stomach churn. Suddenly he hits me with the butt of his gun and I land back into the dirt beside my unconscious father. Iron mixes in with the dirt in my mouth. Hands grasp at my arms, pulling me to my stumbling feet. They pick up Dad before forcing us towards awaiting vehicles. They toss Dad into the back of the truck and his body crumples in an odd way.

I forget keeping my mouth shut when I yell over the sound of the fight, "Hey! Be careful with him! He's hurt!"

They keep returning fire, but I can see a few of them glaring towards me.

The man who hit me closely watches me.

While trying to shelter my head against any stray bullets, I scowl, "You obviously want my father alive. If that weren't true, you would have just killed us then instead of taking us now. We are not expendable to you, so quit acting like idiots and treating us like we are."

None of them speak for a long moment. I get this sinking feeling in my chest, like the kind you get when you've done something really, really stupid. The man calmly comes towards me and, in this moment, it is more terrifying than if he had launched himself at me. Just when he reaches me, he slaps his hand across my face so hard that I once again land on the ground. The back of my head slams against the earth and I'm left whimpering, seeing a flash of memories. The man crouches before me, grasping my chin roughly and pulling me into a sitting position. My lips tremble as he runs his thumb along them, smearing the red blood like lipstick.

"You're right that we want your father alive," he whispers against my face, "but you are wrong to assume that you are both unexpendable. Only he is. So I would be hesitant to open my mouth if I were you."

I let out a quiet cry as he digs a hand into my hair and yanks me to my feet.

Las Vegas, 36 Hours Earlier

"Tony Stark. Visionary. Genius. American patriot."

"Even from an early age, the son of legendary weapons developer, Howard Stark, quickly stole the spotlight with his brilliant and unique mind. At age four, he built his first circuit board," I built my first at five, "At age six, his first engine," I built my first at six too, "And at seventeen, he graduated summa cum laude from MIT," I have plans to do it at fifteen, just two years in time to beat him.

The montage continues to drone on about my father. The entire room is full of wealthy contributors and board members, all dressed to the nines, sitting at large tables. They're all entirely way too serious for me. They're all fancy looking and proper while I ignore my job to play the part. My legs are actually criss-crossed on my chair and my dress stretches to accommodate my position. Still listening to the voice go on, I glance around to find Rhodey sitting at a nearby table. He meets my eyes and I point my index finger into my open mouth to show my mock disgust. I then give him a grin and he chuckles lightly before moving to get up onto the stage.

"...by ensuring freedom and protecting America and her interests around the globe," the voice finishes up as the final, rather epic looking picture of Dad covers the screen.

As Rhodey begins his speech, I cringe.

Yikes.

The cringing gets even worse when Rhodey goes, "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present this year's Apogee Award to Mr. Tony Stark."

The spotlight finds our table and the empty seat next to me as the audience erupts in applause. Obie shares an irritated look with me. Rhodey makes a slight face of concern before I slowly shake my head in his direction. Yeah, he's definitely not here. Rhodey forces a smile. Obie moves to get up, but I motion him down and then stand myself. I put on a wide smile as I move over to the stage. When I reach the steps, Rhodey takes my hand and assists me up. As I take the award from him, he pulls me into a light hug.

"Thanks for the save, Lees," he mumbles.

I give a breathy laugh, "Ah, yes, I'm gonna kill him."

"Mmhm," he says faintly before I pull away.

"Thank you, Colonel," I say, loud enough for the audience to hear me.

I hold the award in my hand and smile into the bright spotlight, trying to come up with something to say.

"In case you can't tell from the lack of a goatee and the majestic hair, I am not my father. But I suppose one Stark is better than none, yes?" I laugh and the crowd does too, "Oh gosh, thank you so much for this award. It is beautiful, absolutely stunning. While I may lack some of the signature looks of my father, I do not lack the knowledge of how incredibly honored he feels to receive this prestigious award."

The audience claps again.

As I continue, I tighten my hold on the glass shape in my hands, "I also know how regretful he feels that he cannot be here with us tonight. Please, don't take it personally. Of all people, I most certainly know that he is always working, but, as we see throughout history, the great men always are," I flash another one of my signature grins before nodding, "Thank you."

My heels are in one hand while the award is in the other as I march through the casino. A few people glance at me as I pass by, but I don't pay them any mind. I'm too angry to even think about stopping. It's not hard to find him with Happy and all the other body guards surrounding him around the table. When I see the disgustingly flirtatious women around him, my mood gets even worse. Happy spots me over his shoulder and pushes the others away so I can make a straight b-line for Dad.

"You are unbelieveable," I snap.

Dad jerks in surprise, but smiles when he sees it's me, "Oh hey, Smalls, there you are!"

"Yes, here I am," I scowl.

"Oh, no, they didn't rope you into the ceremony, did they?"

"Oh, yes," I give a sarcastic laugh, "they most certainly did," he winces, but it does not look sincere, "They roped me into the ceremony to which you were supposed to be attending with me! Instead, here you are, gambling away your dignity," I scowl again, glancing at the skimpily dressed women around me.

"My dignity? Oh, come on, Lees, you know I don't have any," he teases before pointing to the people who laugh.

"And you know what else you don't have?" I say as he looks back at me.

I throw the glass award down onto the floor and it shatters with a loud crash. A few people around us shriek or gasp in shock. The women hurriedly step away to avoid the glass shards scattered across the carpeted floor. I glare at Dad as he stares with puckered lips down at what used to be the award.

"Huh," is all he says.

"Huh," I angrily respond.

Suddenly Rhodey is at my side, "Hey Tony."

Dad looks up, "Hey Man."

"The award ceremony was a blast."

"Yeah, I'm so sorry," Dad says to us both.

"It's okay," Rhodey shrugs it off.

Dad meets my eyes and soon sees that he is not going to get off that easily with me. He drops my gaze before reaching for the dice. I frown at Rhodey before turning and marching back through the crowd. Happy quickly follows me, not wanting me to be alone is such a big area. I can hear Dad's laughing voice all the way to the front door. Even as I sit in my seat in the car, I can see the look on his face when he saw me break the award. I regret shattering it, but it just makes me so angry that he ditched all of those people for the dumb casino tables. It's about another half an hour before he finally appears outside the car. When he opens the door, I glance up at him and then hold his gaze. He looks apologetic, but I don't know if I want to hear it.

"Lees,"

I sigh and turn away from him to stare out the window, "Go away. Get a taxi. This car is mine. I claimed it."

"I'm an idiot."

"Yeah."

"A really big one."

"Yeah," I agree again.

He eases onto the seat beside me, looking at my face, "I'm sorry, Lees. I'm sorry I left you to accept the award. I'm sorry I left it all to you. That was selfish and wrong and it won't happen again."

When my eyes find his face, I find sincerity. He means it. When it comes to me, I know his apologies are always sincere, whether or not I'm ready to accept them is another matter. He hates it whenever I'm mad at him. We both do. I guess that we've become so much a part of each other that it's hard to function when something is wrong between us.

I sigh again before leaning into him, "I know. I'm sorry I kind of decimated your award. That probably was just as bad as you not being there to accept it."

He can't hide his smirk as his arm folds around my back, "You really didn't go easy on it, did you?"

"Ugh," I groan and drop my head, "and everybody saw me do it too!"

He laughs a little, "It's okay. They've seen worse from me, I promise."

"Oh, I know," I smile up at him.

I've gotten more used to his kisses so I don't flinch or pull away when he kisses my forehead and brushes the hair back from my forehead. I don't meet his eyes as he studies my face, feeling embarrassed for some reason. He does this sometimes. I think he just likes to see the things that prove that I am like him. My nose, my smile, a certain expression that I make. I don't know.

"I'm glad we're alright again," he finally says.

I look back up at him and smile before kissing his cheek, "Me too."

Happy seems to see that everything is good between us too because he finally climbs into the car. All the way home in both the car and the plane, Dad and I make it our personal duty to annoy him as much as possible. He gets so flustered that the two of us have to actually cover our mouths with our hands to keep from laughing aloud. Our teasing soon comes to an end when we finally get back home.

If Jarvis was still alive, we would see an old man standing in the doorway, sending a few snide remarks our way about how late it was and we would be so dumbfounded by him that we'd struggle to come up with witty replies of our own. He was just so perfect when it came to things like that. It was hard for Dad and me when he died. He had become much of a father figure to Dad before and after Howard's death and much like a grandfather like Obie was to me. Dad and I were by Jarvis' side when he died, along with Peggy, an old friend from both his and Howard's past. Like Jarvis, Peggy had a knack for being the perfect balm to heal wounds. The first time I met her was after Howard and Grandma died, and she and Jarvis took care of me when Dad was so lost in his grief and Pepper had work to do. They always knew how to make me feel better. After Jarvis passed away, Dad designed a house for us in Malibu where he built in an AI system with an enticing British accent and a witty "tongue", much like our favorite butler. So Dad affectionately named the AI system "Just A Rather Very Intelligent System", or Jarvis for short. This Jarvis does the job of sarcastically scolding us just as well.

Even though it's way past midnight, we jog down the steps of the house to the workshop where we spend the the rest our time before he has to leave for the demonstration.

Dad has grease up to his elbows as he works diligently on the inside of his roadster and I have paint all over my face from where I'm painting long flames on its sides.

"Don't make it too red,"

"I won't," I respond as I slide the brush against the palette.

"And don't make it too orange,"

"I won't," I respond, slightly irritated now.

"And don't,"

Suddenly I sit up and scowl at him, "I think it's important for you to remember that we agreed that the interior was yours and the exterior was mine."

He doesn't look up at me as he continues to log the different parts, "I think it's important for you to remember that this entire thing is mine."

"I'm not sure how I could forget that when you keep reminding me every five seconds!" I respond quickly.

That's when I hear Pepper let out a long sigh. We both look up to watch her as she completely pushes through the glass doors of the workshop. Pepper Potts, my father's personal assistant who has somehow become my best friend and surrogate mom, which may seem sad for normal teenagers but I don't really care personally. Pepper is one of the few people on Earth who actually likes my father and me so, naturally, I instantly liked her.

"Miss Potts," Dad starts, looking back down at the roadster, "tell the lovely Lisa Stark here to remember who's in charge."

I give an innocent smile while I ask, "So, by that you mean Pepper, right?"

He doesn't glance up as Pepper points a finger at me in appreciation and, of course, agreement.

"Jarvis, give me an expanded view of this piece right here," Dad continues, ignoring us both, "Log that the compression in cylinder three appears to be low."

I let out a loud complaint when Pepper begins to turn the music down, "No! Come on, that song really gets me in the zone."

Dad frowns up at me, "Please don't say 'in the zone'."

I frown back, "Why?"

"I don't know," he speaks in his usual quick pace, "It just sounds like something said ten years ago."

"Are you calling me lame?" I ask, astonished.

It really isn't a surprise that I am the only kid in history to be taught 'what's cool' by their father.

Pepper hurriedly interjects, "Mr. Stark, you were supposed to be halfway around the world right now."

That catches our attention.

"Wait, wait, we were supposed to be halfway around the world right now," I correct, making sure they both know that I am most definitely going with Dad on his weapons demonstration in Afghanistan.

He continues to look over different pieces and designs, talking to Pepper, "Why are you trying to hustle me out of here?"

"Hustle us,"

"Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago," she frowns, adjusting the numerous folders in her arms.

"Our flight," I keep trying.

Dad continues to ignore me, "That's funny, I thought with it being my plane and all, that it would just wait for me to get there."

"Wait for us to get there,"

Suddenly they both look at me and snap in unison, "You're not going!"

I scoff, "Well, that's just rude."

Pepper focuses back on my dad, "Tony, I need to speak to you about a couple things before I get you out of the door."

"Doesn't it kind of defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?"

The two of them go on bickering and talking like an old married couple. I end up groaning and laying down on the cold floor to watch them cross over to the other side of the room. I smirk over at them as they continue shooting questions and answers back and forth.

"I need you to sign this before you get on the plane," Pepper thrusts a pen in his direction.

"What are you trying to get rid of me for? What, you got plans?

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"I don't like it when you have plans," Dad shakes his head slightly with an entirely serious look on his face.

"Dad!" I scold.

Pepper looks down at her folders, "I'm allowed to have plans on my birthday."

He's doing that face again; the one when he's feeling guilty but trying not to show it too much, "It's your birthday?"

"Yes."

Dad looks over her shoulder at me and gives a glare.

I hurriedly shrug and mouth back, "What? I got her a card and gift!"

He scowls before directing his attention back to Pepper who is just looking up, "I knew that. Already?"

"Yeah. Isn't that strange? It's the same day as last year."

I smile a bit wider as I watch them.

I think they're the only two idiots who don't know that they are perfect for each other. I mean, Happy, Rhodey, and I actually have a running bet about when they're going to finally end up together. I've never mentioned it to Dad or Pepper before, and I'm not exactly sure if I should. I don't know. I've been debating about whether or not I should tell them that they belong together since the second day I moved here.

"Cool! So, I already have my bags packed," I roll to my feet, "You ready, Dad?"

They both turn to scowl at me.

"Like I said, Lees, you're not coming."

"Like I said, Dad," I cross my arms over my chest, "my bags are already packed. It would be a waste to let two perfectly packed bags go unused."

"It's war-torn Afghanistan, Lisa," Pepper tells me as Dad heads towards the doors of the workshop, "I don't think it's very safe for you."

"Psh," I wave the thought away as I follow them up the stairs, "We are literally going to be with the military. There aren't many other safer places," I slide around Pepper and pull on Dad's arm like I used to when I was little, "Come on, Daddy, please,"

He glances down at me, amusement in his eyes, "'Daddy', huh?"

"I need to be as cute as possible when I'm asking you for things," I shrug nonchalantly, "But come on! I'll stick to you like glue. Please?"

Dad doesn't look to a disapproving Pepper when he finally concedes with a sigh, "Fine, but you aren't leaving my sight, got it?"

I grin, "Got it."

And we're off.

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