𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐊, 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀

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Through the rough winds that sliced through the icy Tundra, a bedraggled woman toyed an armour, the Iron Maiden, with a grunt to her lips every time she limped her way up. Her cat-suit had been soiled with soot from the blast and she felt new bruises started to form under her slick, gold mask. Her usual gait was affected by a gashing wound her thighs and if she didn't get evac in the next two hours, she might bleed out to death. The temperatures around were putting her life functions on critical and she had to find that communicator.

She cursed the weight of the armour that she had to drag up the hill in search of the communicator she had hidden before she had arrived at the Stark cottage. She blindly scoured the snowdrift for a low, crimson blinking and soon, finding it buried near a bearberry bush. The little, damned thing.

She coughed out in exhaustion, plucking the device from the ground and fitting it into her ears. The iciness hit her first, wracking a shiver down her spine.

'Hello? Come in?'

'It's Masque. Come in, it's Madame Masque.'

The other line bled with a grating voice, provoking even. She had to hold back her lash of anger. 'Ah, Miss Frost. You finally returned my call.'

She returned his sarcasm curtly. 'I was busy.'

'Busy getting some good news, I hope.'

'Win some, lose some.'

He grunted. 'Get to the point.'

Masque let out a sigh of weariness, feeling the prickling exhaustion climb up her body. She pulled the armour up to resting position and leaned against the bark. The burns on her back scratched against the biting wood and she bit back a hiss.

'Stark escaped. He had plans and traps all over the facility and—'

'—and you lost.'

 '...yes but, his woman. Not the redhead. The pregnant one... Preece?'

'Eleanor Preece, yes. What of her?'

'She's dead,' she said with a biting smirk on her face. 'With my own hands, Norman. No tracks. The second blast got her. I had to tire that bot out, first.'

It took a beat before Osborn responded. He seemed to speak with solemn when he did. 'I'm thrilled but she wasn't exactly a thorn in the way.'

'I'm not finished, Oz,' she laughed maniacally, taking in a heave. 'You're gonna love this.'

'Huh?'

'Eleanor is dead,' she drawled. 'And I collected her suit.'

∞

𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐘, 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐊𝐇𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍

TONY

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Guilt sat in deep in Tony's chest as he clacked his fingers on the dusty, out-dated keyboard. What he had caused and couldn't annul. It was icy in his gut, colder than the weather outside the internet cafe he was settled in. It was haunting him so much, he couldn't cease the shaking to his fingers. So many spelling errors came up as he tried to craft his email and he fisted them, forcing down a silent sob.

I left her.

He continued to type. The email address he was using was a fake one, something he created so Osborn wouldn't sniff him out. He addressed it to Natasha Romanoff, [email protected]. Hopefully, the agent had her phone on her.

I left her, Nat. I'm a coward.

Behind him, a stout woman who ran the place was counting the thick wad of cash Tony had tossed into the table before entering in. She kept casting him facetious glances and he ducked his head lower. He pulled the furry hood over his head, proceeding to sort his mail out. He never realized how immature his letter looked, the sentences curt and lacking depth.

I know she'll be okay but still. This isn't me. I would never do that. Steve would never leave a man behind, would he? I have to admit to Cap when I see him again. I hope you're okay, Nat. Whatever you and Maria are doing, I hope it worked out well. It's getting harder to remember. There's so much guilt. I miss her already. I miss my baby. Help me find Elle. Make sure she's healthy. She's stubborn but she'll come around. Stay safe, Nat. Stay alive.

He signed off quickly when he heard footsteps.

Love, Tony.

Grabbing his overcoat, he cast no more glances behind him and rushing out the back door. And that would be it, he would keep running. Running until he reached the tree where he had decamped his armour. Easing into it, he spoke as fast as he could.

'Lay in a course to Stark lab double-zero,' he ordered. 

Tony was going back home. He was going to go to the place where everything started. He would start over. He tried to remember, too. Elle had even hair like pine wood. Eyes the colour of the sky after the sun came up. Sort of tall. She's alive. She had to be. If he was here, it was because of her.

'Affirmative, sir,' JARVIS responded, immediately laying out a route on the display for Tony to visualize. He had continued to launch the suit into the lower atmosphere, heading east towards his next destination.

'The estimated time of arrival?'

'Nine hours and nine minutes, sir.'

'Oh boy,' he sighed. 'Cue up the audiobook for a pal, buddy. Daddy needs to do his reading.'

∞

𝐇.𝐀.𝐌.𝐌.𝐄.𝐑. 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐑, 

𝐎𝐒𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄

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'How are you feeling, Miss Frost?'

Oh, Masque was feeling amazing. Her knees were sealed up with all sorts of tech they had on board, she cleaned up for the day and her body felt replenished. A dark cape hung around her new white in the black catsuit that one of the tech whiz's had repaired for her. She crossed her legs on the couch, sitting up straighter.

'I'm qui—I'm okay,' she cleared her throat, skimming a hand through her dark tresses. 'It's a good-news bad-news thing.'

'The way it goes, I suppose,' Osborn laughed. 'Uh, I just—walk me through the course of action. I don't understand how Stark got away. With your history, I would assume he was your first priority.'

She steeled her hands on either side of the cushion. Not looking Osborn in the eyes, she looked down at the table and spoke meekly. 'There was fighting. Explosions. And then, so much fire. It was all sorts of confusing, but I tried my best.'

Osborn neared her, like a predator wanting a taste and sat beside her. He was too close to be normal and she tightened her thigh over the other. The assassin shut her eyes, trying to control her deep breaths. The older man's thigh brushed against hers.

'He can't have gotten far,' she claimed under her breath. 'He's losing his memory. His intelligence. You can sense it in him.'

'So you spoke with him?'

'I... true, briefly.'

'Norman!' 

Colonel James Rhodes was lead-coloured as he stormed into the suite unannounced and jabbed a finger at Osborn's direction. He ripped the militant cap over his head and growled at him. His skin was buckled with fury as he spoke lividly.

'You better watch your goddamn squads because they're interfering with government actions,' he roared. 'Initiating a search-and-encounter in Russian soil? I had to resolve with a room of Non-English generals, man!'

'Simmer down, Rhodes,' Osborn replied easily, rising as he pinned back the button to his coat to ruffle his feathers. 'I had it under control.'

'Like hell, you did,' Rhodey scoffed. 'Encounter who?'

'Presumably,' Osborn dragged out, facing Rhodey to catch the look on his face as he delivered the news. 'Eleanor Preece is dead. I sent them in to recover her body.'

Silence.

'She expired in a blast that occurred in Kiernsk,' he shared. 'It got her too soon.'

Grief was evident in the colonel's face as he stumbled back a step at the information. The regret surged with every breath he took, unbelieving and in an obvious loss for words. He pushed away from the reluctant paralysis in his brain, focusing on affliction after the avenging was done. A lone tear spilt from his helpless eyes, which he swiped away by hanging his head to a side and laying his gaze on the woman in the room. 

'It can't be—'

'It's true,' he insisted. 'We seized a body. I sent it to Eleanor's home in Oxfordshire for her family to pay their respects.'

'You did this,' Rhodey murmured, outraged after his primary denial. 'You killed her.'

'Oh please,' Osborn silenced him, 'what would the death of Stark's woman bring me?'

'You initiated the operation,' he seethed, ready to pounce on the man in front of him. 'I'll kill you, I'll kill you myself—'

Madame Masque was on her feet, drawing the gun from her thigh holster and leaping past the table to land beside the attacker. A hiss left her lips as the flesh wound on her knee tore open, she neglected it and aimed the mark for the colonel's taut forehead. Rhodey froze in his tracks, feeling the cold tip graze his skin. He watched the masked woman in the periphery with fury despite the submission.

'Make a move,' she said in a threatening whisper. 'I dare you.'

'You knew she was pregnant, Osborn.' Rhodey informed anyway, with a crack in his voice. 'You knew she was innocent and she was carrying Tony's kid.'

'You think I wanted to kill her?'

'Perfect, isn't it?' Rhodey spat, his eyes digging daggers into Osborn's recurrent, straight face. 'No more of a legacy left behind. Starting with Iron Man and all the way to his child.'

'The blood of the mother and child are not in my hands,' he said simply. 'Elle died. What a pity—Move. On.'

'You heartless son of a—'

'I didn't call in for a strike on Preece,' Osborn scorned the comment and made eyes at his sidewoman to press the gun deeper and hold him down. 'Masque went for the kill when she attacked.'

Rhodey's eyes zeroed on Masque. She was unfazed by the death stare, not a speck of fear in her eyes. And that irked him to no extent. 

With zero reserves, Rhodey acted quick. He reached out to her neck, ceasing airflow and catching the gun from her hands when her grip loosened. He let go and in a matter of seconds, he had the gun pointing at her head. Masque was just as quick as him, reaching for the gun by her utility belt and aiming it back at Rhodey.

'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fix a bullet between your eyes,' he hissed at her. He couldn't even see her damn face to take a shot.

Masque tilted her head, ready to bother him further. 'You know, she begged me to let her go. For her poor, poor, little baby.'

Rhodey cocked the revolver awake, pressuring it forward in unkempt upset. 

'I wasn't asking. I'll do it.'

He was in so much pain, he didn't know what he was doing. But it was right. This horrid woman had taken the life of the one good thing that had happened in both Tony's and his life. His tightened his lips in a grimace.

'She was my best friend.'

'I did let her leave,' she nodded innocently, clucking her tongue sadly. A sigh left her in all dramatism. 'But she triggered a blast.'

Rhodey roared in a mania, fixing a finger over the trigger. Masque did the same, but he realized she hadn't unloaded the gun. He could kill her. Amidst the tension in the room, a deranged command forced them apart. 

'Masque! Rhodes! Get yourselves together!'

'You shut the hell up, Osborn,' Rhodey commanded back. 'None of this would've happened if it weren't for you.'

'It was a freak accident, James, so lower your weapon unless you want a suspension. You too, Masque.'

No one moved a muscle. 

'I said, lower them!'

Rhodey dropped the revolver with unhinged vindictiveness coursing through him. He knew that bitch was smirking under the mask, giving him a reason to take a shot at her. Masque followed the order too, fixing the gun back on her waist.

'Get out,' he spat at the colonel, pointing to the door. 

Rhodey let a snarl slip past his throat in abrupt repugnance, stopping by Masque's shoulder to whisper a threat into her ears. Masque willed her gaze straight ahead, not giving the man the fulfilment of his actions.

'If I were you, I'd watch my back.'

∞

[ 😭 WTF IS GOING ON Y'ALL THIS IS SUCH  S H I T  ]

edited!