𝐀𝐅𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍

TONY

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[ 𝚝-𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚜 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜. ]

'No, don't stare at me like that.'

Tony caught his eyes to the projection, forgetting the laser beam that sawed the wire to his panel in half. He hissed under his breath, pushing the screwdriver and the beam away. Great. Now, he had to mould it back together. 

Forgetting about it for a second, he looked back to the holograph from the glasses that rested upon his nose and held back a sigh of defeat. It wasn't torturing; he was jogging up to his memory. And somehow, the stupid BARF tech was only picking out the happenings with Elle in it. 

None of the incidents relating to Elle was traumatic. He knew better than the dull glasses. Their verbal battles were pretty enjoyable. In fact, what came after was thoroughly pleasing. She was sensitive yet fiery and being a press woman, she had her way with words. That was exactly what she was doing. She was using the overwhelming power of her womanhood and syllables and using it against him. 

In the projection, the couple was back in the mansion. Elle was livid, obviously, something to do with triggering her suspicion when he had left town to deal with a certain symbiote being out of town. Tony stood put where he was while watching Elle continue to do what seemed like packing her essentials for a trip.

'Stop it,' she snapped again. 'Just don't look at me with those darned eyes.'

'I'm not doing anything. These eyes?' he murmured, continuing to send her the look which was off-putting, according to Elle. 'I'm not—look, seriously. Zip.'

'You're doing the deep eye contact move in high hopes of getting off with me,' she explained, drawing a clearly impressed expression on Tony with her observations. 'Which as a matter of fact, is wildly obtuse. I'm not having sex with you three hours before my flight.' 

Tony already what words the projection of him was going to say, mouthing the sentence along with himself. He had a small smile on his face.

'Have ever told you I love you?'

'Tony,' she breathed out, her lips faltering with a smile, 'come on, now. Be serious.'

'What? I do!'

'So?'

'So don't go. Or take me with you. We'll work out this deep contact thing, a few thousand feet above the ground.'

She grinned, getting closer. 'Mhmm? Absolutely not.'

Even the holograph couldn't emphasise on the depth of her eyes. There was an intensity which could move Tony's world off its orbit and this darkest hour seemed like the best time to acknowledge. Right now, she was bothered and she had the smallest of divots above her lips to indicate so.

'D'you know you use redundant adjectives when you're mad?'

Her demeanour changed to sunny in a heartbeat. 'Wonderful investigation, Sherlock.'

'Well, I—I—... '

In a matter of seconds, the projection flickered dully back to the dark space. He tapped the side of the glasses to make it back to efficiency but in vain. He tossed it behind his back, a rubbing a hand down his face in obvious distress.

Damn it. I wish I could've finished that bit.

In this fierce thatch of desert, this tangle of notched cliffs was where Tony Stark was, in a way, reborn. He was home, despite what others said. Forget the room in which he was conceived, this was what gave him life.

It was the place where it all began. He felt laying a tribute to himself, however condescending that seeming, before leaving this plane to wherever he would go next. He couldn't even tell the difference anymore. All he knew his, in here, he would be safe. Amid the old Stark instruments, the Jericho missile spare components... it was cool, dark and there was water. He came in here - broken, bleeding, corrupted - and emerged renewed.

It was here that he met Ho Yinsen. A peacenik engineer who looked at Tony and didn't see a drunk and expensive playboy. But somebody who might be worth something. He could still remember his exact words, sadly his last, meant for Tony.

Don't waste your life, Stark. 

 Of course, he didn't. He was going to leave behind a legacy. The repulsor technology, the arc reactor, the Avengers initiative—a name. The world, he hoped, would remember him. Even if the people didn't, the ones he had shared the love with would. He was the world's biggest douche to say goodbye before meeting his unborn child, but what choice did he have?

That was the lead gig. You don't get to call quits on despite your lack of favours. But the piercing thought in his mind was that he was going to be his father. Take on the legacy, anyway. He wanted to be innovative—original, even—but alas, he was never going to get to say how much he was going to love that child. Patrimony aside, his daughter was one of the seeds he had planted that he never get to see grow. 

Definitely, not going to say that out loud, he thought.

Tony looked to Iron Man Mark zero in front of him, feeling a slight twinge of sentimentality. It had been pieced back the former Ten Rings associates in hopes of getting it marketed but now, it was junk. It had been his walking lung for so long.

He had taken it back to the States and improved it to some extent. As in, create fifty more Marks in legacy's name. Looking at the outlandish, silver suit of junk, he knew it was the only suit in the world that was simple enough for him to operate.

This was it. Once he got in that suit, there was no turning back. This was the end of his mind. The final deletion swipe that would corrupt all existing data. A zeroed-out hard drive. Nothing left for Osborn to get his hands on. 

No more of his mistakes left to exploit.

God, he only wished it were true. 

Unbeknownst to the former billionaire, the repulsors were generating a large number of energy signatures. Big energy means traceability. Traceable means, eventually getting caught. Osborn was going to come down on him like two tons of pain.

'The last mile, Tony,' he said to himself. 'You can do this. For your kid, come on.'

Like accepting a death a sentence, his movements were slow and languid. The ginormous armour housed him safely, his breathing accelerating a notch as he left the hand-held repulsors slide on. Next same the headgear, and that would be it.

I am Iron Man, he thought, and I am exactly eleven hours away from my doomsday. I could really use an apple martini, right now.

Now, he just hoped he could make it to Dubai and depart quietly without having Osborn sic the entire western hemisphere on his back. 

∞

𝐇.𝐀.𝐌.𝐌.𝐄.𝐑. 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐑,

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒

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[ 𝚝-𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜. ]

'... Natasha Romanoff, aka, the Black Widow. She was on the run with Agent Maria Hill over there.' 

The secretary of Osborn's, Miss Hand, announced as she walked Madame Masque along the corridors of the containment units. The raven was curious about the two, new inmates who had arrived on board and she had to pay them a visit. She had her chin high as they came to stop near a meagre, four by four cell which was lit brightly. The security was shit around this place, zero guards manning the units. As if they trusted their systems too much.

The redhead rose from her position on the floor, staring the femme fatale down. She was far-fetched for an assassin, her features standing out like a madman in a crowd. She was sexy, nevertheless, taking in much of Whitney Frost's character traits. Trained to kill and established to never miss. Her lips contorted to furious snarl.

'You.'

'And you,' Masque said. 'A pleasure.'

'Oh, it will be when I knock your nose into your dumb brain,' the Widow hissed. 'What'd you do to her, Frost?'

'I don't answer to you,' Masque asserted in a teasing tone, knowing full well who she was mentioning. She was the subject of interest on the entire ship. The woman and her baby, murdered in cold blood by the one and only Madame Masque. 

'We ran a full search on both the fugitives and they had nothing on them. No incentive,' Hand said. She faced Masque 'It's bizarre, don't you think?'

Madame Masque looked away from the redhead. 'Ah, I don't know about that.'

'What?'

'I mean, no one lacks incentive, Miss Hand,' she said in a drawling tone. Her dull eyes narrowed on the brunette who watched her rigidly. 'Neither do I.'

Three seconds was all it took. One to grab the taser from the side of her waist. Two, connect the electric tip to her chest and switch it on. Hand staggered, fumbling with the electrocution and the specs falling off her nose. Three, turn up the voltage. This resulted in the woman's ultimate unconsciousness as she fell back with a thud. 

Masque switched off her taser with a sigh. 'That ought to do it.'

'What the fuck?' The voice came from the containment beside Natasha. Maria Hill had her hand plastered over the fibreglass and peered over at the scene caused. 'Holy shit, are we gonna get shot? I mean I haven't got proper healthcare but damn, I could - '

'Hill,' she cut in. 'Shut up.'

The vigilante took off her disguise, abandoning it on the ground. The duo's eyes followed her face, pulling a gasp from both of them. They couldn't believe their eyes.

Bright, blue eyes appeared into sight and tousled, brunette hair pouring from her roots. She combed a tough hand through it, facing them with a familiar proud smile. Her profile was marred with a collection of blemishes but anyone who knew it could make out her face with just that smile.

 Natasha grinned. 'I did not see that coming.'

'God fucking damn it, Elle Preece,' Hill whispered at her. 'How the hell did you pull that off?'

Elle rolled her eyes. 'Let's pull a pew and examine it, shall we?'

Elle, in spite, acted quickly and performing the exact executions she had planned in her head. She was using the old, SHIELD encrypted database with a simple trigger from HELEN hence, activating her handprint scans. She prayed it would work smoothly as she placed her hand against the scans. 

It flashed green. 'Yes!'

The doors of the chambers slid open and then two agents came rushing out, giving Elle a small pat on the back. She received a large hug from Natasha, whispering goodwill into her ears. Elle couldn't make out the soft words but she nodded anyway. 

Natasha Romanoff didn't know Elle very well but they were on the friendliest terms. The conditions they had met under were smooth and usually, at one of Tony Stark's extravagant parties. They had a shared a laugh about harbouring a crush on Steve Rogers and complained to one another about Barton's irritating activities. So yes, you could call them close.

'Tick-tock, besties,' Maria broke them apart. She nodded at Elle. 'Now that you've fortuitously infiltrated Osborn's HQ completely alone, do you have an exfiltration procedure or...?'

Elle smirked at them. 'Who said I came alone?'

∞

At the farthest end of the helicarrier, the Maiden rebooted amid the hundreds of dead Iron Man armours. Ironic how the maiden fair always had to save the man's ass.

'HELEN online. Solar power reserves increasing...'

Her eyes glowed brighter with building power. 

'Maiden rebooting. Please stand by.'

'Uploading programmed virus into HAMMER mainframe.'

'Virus uploaded. Virus unpacking.'

∞

 [ i feel pretty and witty and GAY ]

edited!