Work Text:
Act I, We'll Burn that Bridge when we get to it
Being born as the prodigal son of a technological visionary was a lot to live up to, especially when said visionary was a pathetic, cheating excuse of a man who barely cared about his own family, especially his only son. Anthony didn't want to become his father- he wanted to surpass him, go on and create bigger, better things, so that one day Howard Stark's name would be erased, leaving Stark Industries entirely to Anthony. He wanted to create something better, he wanted to give the world something she would never forget.
The promise of a brighter future, stuck inside one college student's mind, hidden behind layers of paranoia and enough anxiety to level a small town. By fifteen Tony had already graduated, with only enough friends he could count on one hand, if he didn't include the robotic creations that he made himself.
Anything to fill the void left by a neglectful family that only seemed to care what he could bring to the 'family' name.
Tony had only two friends, one older than him by a few years. They were college students, yet their age gaps left a few things to be desired. Genius or not, Tony was still a child in their eyes- one with horrible habits, including gambling, alcoholism, and drug abuse.
Rhodes made it his personal mission to keep Tony out of trouble- even after he was ready to go into the military.
Potts was a close friend, good when it came to money and numbers, she was an accountant, after all.
Tony wanted to take them both, following the death of his parents. He told himself, time and time again, he didn't care, yet somewhere buried deep, that once innocent child still mourned. Tony tried to appear angry, when all he could show the world was the broken pieces of his heart. He found new ways to forget, a new favorite whiskey, a new favorite vice, locked away behind closed doors and hidden by loud enough classic rock no one would hear him scream.
Entering a contract with the military was painfully easy. All he had to do was design new weapons, and until he was "ready", Obadiah Stane would be acting CEO of Stark Industries. Even with Howard out of the picture, he was still somehow controlling Tony's life, denying him his very birthright of his own damn company. His military liaison was his best friend- hand it to Rhodes for climbing ranks so easily, even if he was seeming to get more concerned over Tony's new obsession with creating weapons that walked the very thin line between insurance and weapons of mass destruction.
Tony was a dealer of death, the CEO of destruction, able to stop wars before they started, as all the government had to do was make threats using Stark Industries' weaponry. Something was still missing.
He could spend his days in his workshop, blaring music and drinking from his personal bar. He could go to and host parties that filled his nights with shallow-morals socialites, and leave the morning after with strangers warming his bed. He could tell himself he was fine, over and over, that Tony was coping just fine, there was nothing wrong with Stark Industries' genius.
Between alcoholism, addiction, and isolation, there was nothing cohesive or healthy about his life. If he looked too thin for a photo shoot, wear extra layers beneath a new suit. If his hair was too greasy for a public appearance, slick it back and promote a new hair gel. There was always something Tony could do to appear fine on the outside. What the public didn't know, they couldn't get him for. He was a celebrity, he was an icon, he was a genius, an innovator, an inventor-
Tony Stark was a very weak human being indeed. He was supposed to be showing off, he was supposed to be invincible, untouchable, in a world so far beyond the common people that he could have been called a god. All this time, his entire life, Tony Stark wasn't playing god, he was playing human. He had the world at his fingertips, he had governments and smugglers as playthings, he had more money than he knew what to do with.
Money couldn't buy happiness. Money couldn't buy answers. Stane refused, time and time again, to give Tony any information on the mysterious circumstances regarding his parents' deaths. Who ran them off the road, who shot Maria Stark, what was taken from their car that night- Tony just wasn't privy to. He couldn't find the cops to pay off for information, the whole incident was locked down by the government the moment it happened.
Tony worked on forgetting about his parents the moment J.A.R.V.I.S. came online, an advanced A.I. system with the voice of his family's butler, a machine personality that was growing and learning each day- and somehow, partially filling the hole Jarvis himself left behind.
Tony Stark was perfectly fine, parading for the public, lying through his teeth at every interview. He was an asshole on an epic scale, juggling the fate of millions in the palm of his hand. No one would miss him once he's gone. He had nobody, he had nothing, all Tony had was the lingering fear of being abandoned by his only friends, that one day he would disappoint them for the last time, and then he'd be completely alone.
The world certainly missed him when he went missing in the desert after the convoy he was in had been attacked by smugglers and terrorists.
oOo
"Please, don't move yet, your stitches are still too new." The first words Tony heard after waking up, strapped to unfamiliar and hastily put together medical bed. There wasn't much cushioning, and he could feel every breath that left a throbbing pain in his chest.
The stranger in the cave showed Tony more kindness than he'd known in years. The man should have hated him, left him to die, but showed Tony more mercy than he'd shown in his entire life. When the man fondly spoke of his late wife and daughter, Tony listened, even as his body began to betray him and it seemed like he'd have both feet in the grave before his companion.
Tony was dying. Without the proper equipment for surgery, he needed to find some other way to prolong his own life, to prevent the shrapnel from reaching his heart. While their captors demanded Tony makes them weapons, he made something different. For the first time, he made something to protect, to extend his own life, something that would ensure he wouldn't die in a dark cave who knows where.
Tony Stark escaped with an Arc Reactor thrumming in his chest, magnetization keeping the metal from killing him, while powering a new weapon- a personal weapon, the first of it's kind. He left that cave without his morals and his mind intact, his body broken and bruised. Tony Stark escaped with nothing but another invention he made in a cave with nothing but a bunch of scraps.
oOo
The press conference following Tony's escape was stressful. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to be under the spotlight, the world wanting the celebrity, philanthropist, playboy, genius, back, keep him locked up, out of sight, out of mind-
Stane would take over speaking during conferences, during board meetings for the company. He'd taken Tony's voice just as long ago he'd taken Tony's freedom. Tony had ordered for the company to stop making weaponry for the government and for the highest bidder- Stane went behind his back and continued. Until something more 'profitable' came along, they were going to continue using anything he made against him.
Tony's complaints during board meetings meant nothing. He was spoken over, Stane would jest that Tony was clearly still shaken from the whole ordeal- maybe he was. Maybe, he didn't want to destroy the world. Maybe, he wanted to fix it. Tony was already a broken excuse of a human being, his hands coated in the blood of innocents anytime Stark Industries' weaponry was used. Tony had more than a few complaints that he kept to himself.
The suit in the cave was dubbed MKI, the first of it's kind, a prototype that he was going to expand and improve upon, something with a sleeker design, flight capability. Armor he could hide in, armor he could use to show the world that Tony Stark was more than what they made him out to be.
"Tony, we… we're worried about you." Pepper was taking away his eight glass of whiskey of the night, clearing off some of his workspace after handing DUM-E a rag to clean up some oil spill. The dark circles beneath her eyes mirrored Tony's own, while that bright smile he'd always come to associate with her was nowhere to be found.
"I'm fine, Pep. Just working. Got a few ideas, got things I have to do, I- I have things I need to do. I need to fix this."
She sighed as she motioned for one of the bots to bring her a stool, taking a seat as she smoothed out the creased lines in her pencil skirt. Tony wasn't withering under her gaze, but he certainly was caving the moment she pulled out a nutrition bar from her purse. Give it to Pepper Potts to always have snacks on hand, it's like she knew he wouldn't eat for days on end when he was busy-
"You can't change the company overnight, Tony. You're barely taking care of yourself enough as is. Don't think I haven't noticed the short straws and the scratched credit card on the table."
She didn't click her tongue in annoyance. She didn't elaborate further, only holding a steady gaze that meant she was there for him. She wasn't going to leave until she had seen him eat something, she wasn't going to leave until he drank the water bottle she pulled from her blazer's pocket.
So Tony began brainstorming, this time with company. MKII was going to be perfect.
oOo
Pepper had been there for the first flight test. Rhodey had been on the phone for Tony's first counterattack on his own company. Sure, Tony was in contested military air space, but he couldn't care less. He was taking back his company from smugglers and terrorists, with that refugee's dying wish still playing on repeat in his mind. He had to break the cycle of violence. He had to do something.
Tony held his tongue during the board meetings. Stane was flying off the handle over the company's supposed loss of assets, as if he had any right as to where the weapons were going in the first place. Slowly, Tony was cementing himself as the CEO of Stark Industries, especially once the Stark Phone hit the market. At another Stark Expo, he revealed more advanced robotics, winking at Hammer from the stage.
He loved to enrage his supposed 'rival', that he mostly certainly did not have J.A.R.V.I.S. hack into the personal accounts of said rival, to find out he was in cohorts with Obadiah Stane. That his greatest rival was deeply entrenched in his company, just another scapegoat and filthy, deranged, wealthy customer for illegal weapons.
Tony convinced Hammer to join him in bed once and suddenly his 'rival' was practically begging at his feet for another taste. While Stane was distracted with illegal meetings across the ocean, Tony was combining Stark Industries and Hammer Industries and becoming the biggest scandal of the century.
All Tony had to do was get on stage, face the press, and admit his buyout of Hammer Industries. His weak-willed little ex-rival bent to his will so easily, and Hammer Industries became just another facet of Stark Industries. Tony had control of what Hammer Industries produced, he had a somewhat intelligent business partner, and most importantly, he had a company that Stane didn't have his hand in.
It barely took five years until Tony had complete control, but in that time frame, he had been stupid and reckless. MKII was coming along nicely, MKII was working just fine, on the news from time to time as another attack on Stark Industries went public. PR was losing their minds, everyone wanted Tony to have more security, everyone feared that the Iron Man was going to target Tony Stark someday.
"I… am Iron Man."
He ate a cheeseburger in front of a crowd of over a hundred reporters. The cameras flashed as he raised a single brow, listening to the crowd's outrage. Public opinion was swaying, as was the opinions of shareholders and the stock market.
"Mister Stark, sir, why would you sabotage your own company-"
"Stark, are you aware you have trespassed on military property-"
"Mister Stark, what do you have to say for yourself?"
What could he say? Stane was only an arm's length away, glaring at Tony from the corner of his eye. The glowering behemoth of a man wore a tense grin on his features, hiding the rage that Tony knew was simmering just beneath the surface. Good. Let his blood boil, let him remember just who Tony is.
"Well, I regret to inform you that the ACTING CEO of Stark Industries has been illegally selling arms and weaponry to terrorist groups and the military of other nations. In the past fifteen years alone, Obadiah Stane has amassed millions, and caused the deaths of thousands of innocents on American Soil and overseas." Tony couldn't stop. Even as Stane tried to pull him from the microphone, Tony threw a briefcase to the crowd, documents compiling Stane's crimes visible for the reporters to see.
The lights flashed. Security pulled Tony and Obadiah apart, the older man yelling and screaming, his face turned red from fury. Tony couldn't stop grinning, he'd won, he'd finally won-
"I'll kill you, you filthy brat!" Stane's threat was broadcast on live television, a crime in broad daylight, and something in Tony's mind snapped.
"Oh yeah, like how you had my parents killed so you could take their money? Sure, Obadiah! Fucking try me!"
He should have stopped, Tony didn't know when to stop, when to keep his mouth shut, but the pain in his chest was his only driving force. He'd survived heartbreak, he'd survived hell itself, and wasn't going to let another self-righteous asshole dictate his life any longer.
He would have died that day, if it weren't for a mutant from the crowd blocking the bullet clearly meant for him. She shone like diamonds, she was taller than him with gorgeous platinum blonde hair, a hand on his chest as she pushed him behind her.
The security guards pulled Stane away after disarming him, and Tony was led away from the frazzled crowd of reporters that were stupid enough to not disperse following a gunshot.
oOo
Men with money could get away with things. Rich white men with lots of money could scoff at any war crime they commit and get away with it, all of it, and it enraged Tony to no end. Stane had paid off his own bail within hours, and was back in a section of Stark Industries, doing only the Gods know what-
While Tony shared a glass of wine with an emissary, a genius socialite like himself, someone with too much money than they knew what to do with. Hellfire Company wasn't a competitor for the weapons market, but still one he shouldn't mess with.
How he found himself across the table from Emma Frost, Tony didn't know. She wore smug and professional on the exterior, but he knew the look in her eyes. He'd seen it in Pepper's gaze a thousand times, seen it from his best friend Rhodey no matter how many times he got drunk or high and cried the night away on his best friend's shoulder-
Emma was concerned for Tony, just like they had been. The icy blue of her lipstick left barely any transfer on the rim of the wineglass. He'd typically reserve staring at lips for parties he didn't want to remember, but something about Emma commanded his attention, including disrespectful staring.
"I believe you're going to be interested in a business partnership, Stark." Emma was all business, sliding over a portfolio, filled with hypotheticals, human lives being counted as statistics, everything Stark Industries had burned to the ground. Illegal projects his own company had been a part of and funded, everything that Tony would have to personally tear down and rebuild from the ground up.
"Well, I'm pretty sure you already know what I want to do with this information- what's it going to cost me?" Tony, personally- not Stark Industries- not until he had complete control. His own company had been compromised.
"I want you to help me take down that monster, Stane. We already know he's gotten off free, having politicians and governments at his fingertips. The chain of command needs to be broken, Stark."
"Please, call me Tony."
"Emma."
oOo
Obadiah Stane was being taken to supreme court. Tony and Emma had worked as a pair, and the evidence that swayed the scales from Stane's favor were staggering. The trials took weeks, and once Stane's butchered version of MKI had been found, it was another piece against him. Upgraded weaponry, flight capabilities, and video feeds of him stealing the schematics.
Tony had the Iron Man MKI and MKII patented. He knew the US military was going to want one for themselves, so he made a deal. The dealer of death was dealing with the devil, with the agreement that the user of the War Machine was to be James Rhodes.
Tony Stark cemented himself as the proper CEO of Stark Industries, with Hammer Industries as a subsidiary, a partnership with the Hellfire Company, and with more employees than he knew what to do with.
The longest night of his life had finally ended. There was still a light at the end of that tunnel, that had encompassed him in darkness and ignorance.
Stane had forbid mutants from working at Stark Industries. Tony changed that in a heartbeat.
Stane was a racist, sexist, ignorant fool. Tony welcomed people of any race and color, gender and sexuality.
Tony was going to change Stark Industries for the better. He'd already changed himself, and after, he could change the world. He could only hope he didn't have to burn every bridge to do so.
Act II, Spider's Nest
"J.A.R.V.I.S., buddy, tell me what the hell I'm looking at."
"This appears to be schematics sent through an encrypted channel with several layers of repetitively changing security codes. Whoever sent this meant for it to be for your eyes only, sir." J.A.R.V.I.S. was actively tearing down firewalls to expose the encrypted message and set of schematics, all which seemed to have been collected over decades.
"Looks like it's for some advanced robotics. Nothing I've ever seen before, and I think I'm pretty pissed that I didn't come up with this kind of tech myself. But what the hell are some of these materials? I've never heard of Cybertonium before. Some new man made element?" Tony was already entranced in the new schematics, projections coming to life around him as he was running simulations in his head and in reality.
The documents that had been sent over included logs for a series of experiments, dating back from the late 1800's. It took Tony only a few minutes to realize the logs were a series of studies.
"You know that game, Mass Effect? Call me a geek, I don't care, but this makes me feel like Earth had some super advanced civilization before us. No one should have been able to create something like this."
"Sir, there has been a security breach at the front door." J.A.R.V.I.S. somehow managed to stay calm, but Tony could tell there was a lilt to his voice, an underlying fear the A.I. hadn't properly learned to identify yet.
"Uh, shit, okay, J, save this and bring up something random, I don't even care if looks incriminating." As the different logs, documents, and schematics were replaced by recent designs to improve MKII, Tony leaned against one of the filthy, dirt and oil-crusted tables while placing his other hand on his hip. Whoever had gotten through his already lax security but difficult to find estate clearly was on a mission- a stubborn one.
The woman who strode through the bulletproof glass doors looked just as annoyed to be there as Tony was to actually see her. The probably a fake-redhead he'd seen stalking the yearly Stark Expo since after his capture. She was like the silent shadow, hiding in dark corners and abandoned hallways, all creepy and bad ass with her tactical gear and martial arts.
"Oh, the spy lady's back." Intimidating, taller than Tony, with a better figure than he had. If looks could kill, Natasha would have had Tony murdered ages ago.
"Thought I'd let myself in, since you blocked my number. Again." Natasha sat on one of the available stools, a hand out expectantly as Tony handed over a glass of whiskey. The liquor didn't go down like the motherland's potato liquor of choice- vodka- but it was better than nothing.
"Because I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you, I don't want to work for you. But I clearly can't get rid of you, little brat." Tony slid his bowl of lukewarm blueberries away from her, glaring as he scrunched his nose.
"Oh please, Stark, you wouldn't be working for me. You'd be working with me. And I already know you got my little gift. Now didn't that seem interesting? I had to pull quite a few strings to get my 'paws' on it." Natasha waggled her fingers, showing off the paw-print decal on the palm of her glove. Where she'd gotten this new sense of humor, Tony didn't want to know.
"You're trying to bait me with some super advanced, crazy robotics. I mean, on a typical Tuesday, sure, I'd take the bait, but come on Spider-Lady, this is just a bunch of crazy talk." Even as Tony tried to mentally dismiss the schematics, J.A.R.V.I.S. pulled up the logs, projections springing to life and surrounding them.
"Isn't all science born from insanity one way or another, Stark? This is just something special. And I want your opinion on it." Whatever playful, all-knowing demeanor Natasha had was replaced by professionalism, in the way her spine straightened and her grin fell from her face.
"I don't do bribes." Tony's gaze narrowed as Natasha slid a USB stick in his direction, presenting it like one would present a treat to their dog. Tony was better than that.
"Think of it as me asking for a favor. Ignore the whole spy-business, me being your keeper and whatnot, and take a good look. I want to know what you think about this." Natasha wanted Tony's opinion, as close to professional as he could be- something genuine between them both, even if only for a moment.
"Alright, fine! I'll take a- oh hell, you already know I was looking at this. I'll look at the schematics, you look at the logs. This is some Sci-Fi bullshit, and I'll need- well, you'll need- your own opinion on the experiment logs. I can't tell if this thing is real or not." Despite the supposed qualms Tony had over working with Natasha, they were able to divide the research among themselves easily.
[NBE-1]
Subject's brainwave activity steadily decreasing.
Subject has shown reactions to chemical stimulants.
Subject's 'heart' emits an energy signature in a distinct pattern.
Subject has shown reactions to false energy emissions mimicking pattern playback.
Subject has adverse reactions to video and audio playback of warfare propaganda.
Subject has-
"You know, I never wanted to go through these myself. It's as bad as my past, I'd argue worse. Whatever they had is stuck in a coma, and they've been torturing and experimenting on a living being for nearly a century. Maybe longer, at this point." Natasha's gaze kept lingering over unopened video files. Tony could only imagine the horrors that would show on screen if she opened them.
"I have two theories. Either Earth once had a super-advanced technological civilization and this is the leftovers, or-"
"Aliens. Call me the history channel, yes, it's aliens." Their gazes met, only for a second, Tony's confusion mirrored in Natasha's eyes. She was calm, collected, wearing her best poker-face to date. "Did I stutter, Stark?"
"No, so. You're telling me, aliens have been to Earth, and they left their highly advanced robots, and you want me to… what? Figure out these experiment logs? Make something better?" Tony's voice didn't have disbelief. He could, if he wanted to, recreate the thing on the screen, in it's massive, silvery glory.
"Close, but you're off by one very important thing. This isn't an alien's creation, this is the alien. The robot is alive." Natasha changed the projections, bringing up the page about the subject's 'spark'. Highly reactive, crystallized energy, the purest form known to mankind, able to power nearly any electronic on the planet and still have energy to spare. Spinning, changing, emitting different frequencies, like a song, when put through vocoders and synthesized voice modules. Something beautiful. Something capable of-
"Reproductive capabilities?" The question left Tony breathlessly, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen even as Natasha changed the image to the gutted and exposed form of technorganic life. Wires, tubes, nuts, bolts, various pieces, metallic organs and something that looked suspiciously like a larger, sleeker version of a human female's reproductive system, although lacking in ovaries.
"They couldn't fully tear this one open. They thought they were doing a biopsy, only to find out they're still alive. Stuck in some form of stasis, with most of their bodily functions shut off. Like turning off your phone for the night. The scientists were apparently confused over the poor thing putting off heat. They didn't need a translator to understand that the big 'bot had been receiving warnings and errors from their own system for a long time. Percentages, redirected fuel lines, a whole lot of confusing things to the early 1900's scientists. Who knows how long they've been studying this." Natasha guided their way through the different files, landing on one of the most recent logs.
They had properly completed an internal scan, revealing a smaller version of the spark in the alien's chest. A thinner, more compact version of the sparkchamber, nestled inside and emitting weak energy pulses.
"Oh god-" Tony couldn't look. He spun on the stool, to face any direction other than the image that had now burned into his retina. He could see the tiny pulses of life every time he closed his eyes. Imagined the 'mother' being reduced to barely anything more than scrap metal. "You win. Just turn this shit off, Nat. You won. I'll help."
J.A.R.V.I.S. shut off the display the second Natasha snapped her fingers, leaving the workshop in the familiar dull, golden glow of the overhead lights, lacking the bright blue of holographic displays. Tony cursed under his breath. He didn't want to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., and certainly not with Agent Romanoff. Romanov. Whatever her name was.
"Romanova, I'm a woman."
"Right, thanks for clearing that up, scary Russian lady for works for a British spy agency."
oOo
Working 'with' Natasha hadn't been the worst. While Tony felt like the most certainly fake redhead was acting like she was his boss, she wasn't a slave driver which made the whole set up tolerable. She fed him classified information and nutrition bars, he broke down schematics and logs until he could recall them with his eyes closed.
Whether or not the designs gave him ideas for a new set of armor, Tony wasn't going to tell anyone. His designs were his, regardless of the source of inspiration behind them. No matter how many times Director Fury tried using his little Agents as proxies in order to recruit Tony for their super-secret super-soldier spy party, Tony wasn't budging. Tony wasn't going to budge, he wasn't a mere insect caught in the Black Widow's web.
And then one day, everything changed with the new smuggled information Natasha had brought him. Blasphemy at best, sacrilege at worst. Something so very wrong, it irked him to the core. Remnants of his father's legacy that Tony has desperately tried to ignore, a reminder that there was something special about deciding to commit war crimes against humanity's very genetic makeup itself. The fact that Howard Stark had helped with the delivering of Erskine's super-soldier serum was something that always bothered Tony.
He knew about it. He'd always have known, with the way Howard would go off on his drunken rants, as if he had some claim of ownership over Captain America, like the once sickly boy from Brooklyn was nothing more than a test subject and property of the United States military.
Natasha wanted Tony to meet him, something that was impossible, given that Captain America had gone down in the Arctic with a bomb that could have easily wiped out New York City, along with some odd, classified piece of technology that might have been magical- from the way Natasha had spoke of it- which was insane, given that simply, magic didn't exist. Neither did cryptids, werewolves, vampires, unless certain mutants were counted.
Tony got proven wrong. He knew it was stupid, pointless, but Natasha had somehow convinced him to come along. Take a flight to the city, where Stark Tower was still being constructed. Tony had wanted to move, given the recent complications in Malibu, the complications overseas when he was in just one race- legally, of course!
Tony needed a vacation, he told himself that the move to NYC was temporary, he had no plans to stay. Then again, he never had plans to stay anywhere, he might as well have been a vagrant with an unlimited credit card. Bouncing from hotel to hotel, vacation house to vacation house, with no specific place set in mind for something that could be called home.
Natasha's hand was a burning brand at the curve of his spine, his body fitting so easily against hers. She made an off-handed comment that Tony wasn't eating again, while he elbowed her in the rib. Natasha was overly smug, and introduced Tony to the one man in the world he hated just as much as his own father and himself.
Steve Rogers, with piercing blue eyes and a nose that twitched once. The tension hung in the air between them, Steve not taking his eyes off of Tony after regarding Natasha only once. Her hand slid to his hip, fingers digging into bone that made Tony wheeze. His eyes roamed Steve's body, from the simple clothes S.H.I.E.L.D. had put him in, to his exposed biceps and rippling muscle from every minuscule movement he made. He looked damn good for a kid that everything good about him came from a test tube.
Tony held his tongue, regarding Steve respectfully, even as the man out of time seemed to be listening to everything Tony said with rapt attention. Fury had given Steve enough of a run-down prior, Tony expanded on some things- the partnerships, the state of technology in the modern world, going as far as to handing Steve a Stark Phone with no strings attached.
The entire time, Tony's heart was racing. He was glad he drenched himself in cologne and body spray like a middle school boy, he was sweating bullets. His lungs ached every time he breathed, he would have panicked if he wasn't running his mouth. Childhood trauma and life long jealousy weren't forces to reckon with. His father liked Steve more than he had ever liked Tony.
Steve's grin was predatory, the glint in his eyes was almost inhuman. Tony swore he saw fangs. It had to have been a lie, the moment insults about Howard spilled from Tony's lips like the sweetest nectar. He had a poisoned mind, expecting Steve to outrage, demand something about respecting his elders-
And then Steve agreed with him. They exchanged stories of Howard being a filthy cheater, a horrible father, a thief for design and innovation. All the while Natasha was seated, sipping a glass of liquor so strong Tony could smell it from across the room. She smirked like she had won a game Tony didn't even know he was a player of.
The Spider's Web made sure Tony had a new friend. Someone he could complain about Howard with, someone who surprisingly shared many views and opinions. While their time together was short since Tony did have work to do in the city, he left feeling fulfilled, a primal part of him finally satisfied. His satisfaction could have been from dissing his father, or it could have been from teaching The Captain America how to text and use a phone.
If his words caught in his throat roughly a week later when Steve sent him a text and a picture of an omelette, Tony hoped none of his employees saw. He knew hiding from Agent Romanova was futile. She was keeping tabs on Tony, had been for years, and as creepy as she was, he still couldn't figure out why she hadn't aged.
Natasha was aged like a fine wine, but secretly an immortal super-spy that had once bent the metal of Tony's suit. Her only explanation was a feral, full-fanged grin, teeth too sharp, her eyes glinting and reflecting the light from his mask.
Between trying to teach Tony hand-to-hand combat and stalking him, Natasha knew quite a lot about Tony's personal life, and went out of her way to schedule hangouts with his two best friends. Natasha could pull strings to get Rhodes an extra day off, she could take over for Pepper as a personal assistant just so Tony could have her as company.
Tony's only saving grace was that his communication with Steve was their little secret. Natasha hadn't snitched, as far as Tony knew, and neither Pepper nor Rhodey seemed to know about it. Captain America being alive wasn't even public knowledge, for all the populace knew, he was still lost somewhere in the Arctic. Tony didn't like to pry into the government, it was filthy enough as is, but if he could know something, without them knowing that he knew, it was a high he didn't even have to chase.
Act III, I AM the sharpest tool in the shed… within a reasonable margin of error
There was a joke somewhere that children of divorce end up working for the government. Tony would've been lucky if he was a child of divorce, instead, he was working for the government- against his better judgment and his own personal wishes.
"Real talk, are we going to overthrow the fucking government or what?" Natasha's body burned through alcohol so quickly she could drink Tony out from underneath the table while barely blinking and only having to go to the bathroom once. This was one of those nights, a new night, fairly recently where his three friends were in the same location at once, exception of Steve. Steve was apparently in Washington D.C., doing only the gods knew what. Or maybe other little stalker agents like Natasha.
"Miss Romanoff might I remind you that I WORK for the government you're talking about overthrowing?" Rhodes' voice held no animosity. He was curled up in several layers of blankets, plastered to the corner of the couch and leaning heavily against the armrest. He was the epitome of comfortable, with a cup of rum and coke in his hands, barely peeking out from the blankets.
Natasha was seated on a beanbag on the other side of the coffee table. She had sunk so low into the beanbag, she had a double-chin from the angle she had to lift her head to glare at Rhodes.
"I never said the American government, you stuck up half-wit." Pepper's head was on a swivel as she swirled her margarita, looking between the two and hiding her snickers with well-timed sips. Tony could care less, he was ready to chug an entire bottle of whiskey on his own. There was a handful of assorted snacks on the coffee table, he could grab his blueberries, but that involved moving.
"That just worries me even more. You're crazy, lady." Despite his protests, Rhodes made no move to stop Natasha's non-existent plans. He leaned forward just to grab the remote from the coffee table, turning on a random kid's movie for them to mock the more they drank.
The Land Before Time. Dinosaurs, heartbreak, back when animation was complex and still had soul. Tony hummed as he made himself comfortable, stretching out on the couch and practically throwing himself into Rhodey's lap. His head on Pepper's lap, her fingers idly combing through his hair. Not a single complaint of his hair being too greasy, unlike twenty years prior. He had always been a touchy friend, obsessed with physical contact, soaking up every shred of attention he could. Tony of course, would vehemently disagree it was because he was touch starved.
"You know, I never liked Littlefoot. He always drove me insane." Pepper hesitated, hovering over Tony's ear before lightly smacking him. "What?! He was a little brat!"
Tony didn't need super-powers to know there was three sets of eyes on him, all judgmental. He grumbled as he buried himself further into blankets, adjusting his straw to angrily sip at his mixed drink. He should have made himself something fruity.
oOo
Tony would be lying if he said his life was easy. While he didn't mind Natasha somehow worming her way into his diminutive-sized friend group, he did mind when she dropped off new puzzles for him to solve. New schematics, new detailed experiment logs that he had to decrypt and turn into something legible. Tony would make adjustments and improvements, and whenever he had to program new protocols and commands, he'd leave pieces of his own handiwork in the software. He wasn't going to be presenting spaghetti coding like EA, he was better than that, Tony had standards.
Once everything had been implemented, perhaps Tony would have done something good for the world again. He just needed an excuse to activate the codes from afar. Once the adjusted parts had left the Stark Tower, Tony didn't have any way to continuously track the pieces, he just received a ping through J.A.R.V.I.S. each time a new part had been installed onto the main body. He couldn't pinpoint the location, but he could receive real-time updates on the vitals of the mystery NBE-1.
Whatever the mysterious, suspicious shadow-government was doing with an alien life form, all Tony could think about was Independence Day and every other movie that involved alien invasions and how the military would always dissect and experiment on the beings from other planets. Americans were always trigger-happy, more interested in corpses than they were from learning from things still alive.
He hoped he'd live to see the day NBE-1 reactivated, and maybe that everything he did in their favor could earn him a debt.
oOo
Fury had sent Natasha as the middleman again, to bother Tony a few days after a prolonged, frustrating, infuriating board meeting for Stark Industries. His nerves were already shot, and his temper shorter than it had been in years, but Natasha brought a peace offering. Donuts. She had to coax him down from sitting in the giant metal donut above the coffee shop, wearing the newest version of his Iron Man suit. MKIII, shinier, bulkier, with stronger repulsors and thrusters.
Tony insisted on wearing the new suit even inside of the coffee shop, and ignored Natasha until he'd ate nearly an entire dozen donuts.
"Okay Spider-Lady, what's on the itinerary today? World domination? Collapsing shadow governments?" Natasha rolled her eyes, spinning a pen with her left hand.
"Actually, have you seen the news lately, Tony? Something pretty wild happened. I thought J.A.R.V.I.S. would have told you about it already." Natasha was relaxed, leaning back against the cheap foam of the seat, reminiscent of a 1950's diner. Deep reds with shiny silvers, it was like stepping into a different era.
Tony sighed, snapping the mask back on as he asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to bring up a recent news article, and proceeded to nearly choke on the sip of coffee he had just taken.
"What? What the fuck is this? Nat? Am I going crazy? You're pulling my leg, right? Because there's no way in hell that-" The mask flipped up as Tony leaned forward. The metal clanged loudly in the quiet shop as he slammed his hands on the table, garnering a few stray glances from other patrons of the coffee shop. They looked away the second Tony's stare full of ire landed on them, which left him to refocus on Natasha. Natasha, too smug, baring too-sharp fangs as she grinned, the skin around her eyes crinkling as she squinted.
"You just saw a car turn into giant robot too, then? Sure, the video quality is a bit blurry and it's a repost, but suspiciously, any videos keep getting taken down from the internet. The gov's working real hard on keeping everything under wraps, yet, the whole world's already seen it." Natasha wasn't telling Tony something, and he knew it. She was edging him with information, just enough to get him interested.
"Didn't the declaration of independence get stolen a few days ago?" The video had a timestamp. The same day. It had to be a coincidence.
"By those two right there, actually. Imagine that, we not only get public proof aliens and cool robots exist, but they come to the planet to steal the declaration of independence, and end up in a car crash. The document was retrieved, but the capsule they put it in was tough to crack. Would have kept it safe from the elements for centuries, at least." Natasha was saying this all off-handedly, as she handed a waitress a small order, flashing the poor woman a grin and winking at her. As the waitress scurried away, Tony took another look outside, to the mostly empty parking lot.
"If the alien is a car, what does that make a car crash?"
"That's the first thing you think about?" Natasha's body language remained open, relaxed, but her tone betrayed her. Disappointment, but also acceptance at once, like she had already expected Tony to disappoint her. She sat up, no longer slouching as her coffee was placed in front of her by the flustered waitress.
"No, you fake-redhead, it's not. So, the doc was retrieved, the government's trying to hide proof that aliens that exist- but here begs the question. Where did those two go?" Tony gestured to nothing, the space in front of him on the table empty. He saw things she didn't, he was having J.A.R.V.I.S. list off their projected escape route, the interstate the bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle had first been seen.
How suddenly, the rusty car seemed to have disappeared entirely. J.A.R.V.I.S. was checking security footage from traffic lights, how the beetle had never left the city to begin with. Rather, there was one more of a different type of car- same color, different year, different model, different make.
Another golden Camaro had never entered Washington D.C., yet an extra had left. Just as Tony and J.A.R.V.I.S. came to the same conclusion, Natasha was grinning again, her lips curled around the straw she was drinking from.
"You figured something out, didn't you?" She was swirling her iced coffee now, licking her bottom lip of cream. Tony stared at her like she was delusional.
"Nat. Nat, listen to me. Something doesn't add up- specifically, the cars in D.C. that day. There was a total of twenty-seven golden Camaros with black racer stripes, by 9AM in the morning. By the time those- those two disappeared- there had been twenty-eight in the city. Security footage from different establishments, gas stations, the traffic lights- that twenty-eighth never came in, only left."
Her heels clicked on the floor to an unknown rhythm, her ruby red hair swaying as she moved to unheard music, entirely entertained by Tony's rambling.
"Bingo, Stark. Want to help me find a mystery shape-shifting yellow Camaro, or are you too busy perching on the top of skyscrapers and having existential crises to go on an epic hunt for some aliens?" Did Natasha even have to ask?
oOo
There were too many people to whatever creepy, secluded S.H.I.E.L.D. base Natasha had conned Tony into. There were a few odd vehicles parked behind the building, including a massive cobalt blue semi, and a bright red jet- outdated, looked like from the 80's- and an old Charger that he saw Steve climbing out of.
Tony tore his gaze away from the parking lot the second Steve looked over, only to meet Natasha's all too-knowing, cocky gaze and grin combo, bright red lipstick matching her fake red hair.
"Don't you dare." Natasha only shrugged, feigning innocence, but her laugh caught the attention of several goons that they passed as they walked through the front doors. Glass was reflecting the midday sun directly into Tony's eyes, which had the disgruntled billionaire pull out sunglasses from only the gods knew where, sliding his Ray Bans over his eyes.
"Steve's attractive, and any well-distinguished socialite knows you're a bisexual. Why would I say anything?" If there was one thing Tony trusted Natasha with, it was somehow his personal brand and image. While he didn't know what information she had been feeding her spy-masters, handlers, whatever they may have been called-
She had always refrained from painting him in a bad light to the public. Every breakdown, every night spent huddled in blankets and crying over Disney movies and sobbing his eyes out over his crippling loneliness, Natasha had never once overshared or made a debilitating social media post. His secrets stayed secrets, and that included what bodies he found himself tangled with after far too many drinks and a high-brow party that left a bad taste in his mouth.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. base was crawling with Agents. Men and women wearing crisp office wear, the occasional stern-faced soldier in tactical gear, everyone was secretly somebody, and Tony felt out of place. Most had been shocked to even see him there, as if the entire building expected Romanova to fail. Her gait next to Tony oozed confidence, while he only shrunk in on himself and dug his nails into his palms.
Natasha led him to an elevator, just as Tony was flashbanged by an obnoxious mop of fluffy brown hair, with streaks of white starting from the bangs and dispersed throughout. The woman was taller than Tony- honestly, who wasn't- with muscles for days. Her skin-tight green and yellow bodysuit left nearly nothing to the imagination. She could crack Tony like a walnut and he would thank her.
The mystery woman flashed Natasha a grin which she returned with a polite smile of her own, even as the elevator got more crowded. A man with black sclera entered the elevator after the fluffy-haired woman, along with a man wearing sunglasses indoors- like Tony was- but he sneered for a second when he saw Tony, flashing large fangs at him. Tony was definitely going to die.
Agent Coulson, who Tony had declined time and time again when the poor, miserable, annoyingly polite, patient, and loyal Agent tried to recruit him- also stepped into the elevator. He was speaking to a woman closer to Tony's height, who made a few jokes in Italian before straightening herself out.
The man- mutant, likely- with black sclera had a thick Cajun accent, and he was making jokes to the tiny, terrifying Italian woman. Tony slid his way behind Natasha, his fingers digging in to her hip as he tried to press himself to the wall of the elevator and use her as a shield.
"I know it's a lot, but hold on for a bit longer. We're almost to where we have to be." Natasha whispered to him, like a mother would to soothe their unruly child, and Tony almost felt pacified. Almost. A ripple of shame had him exhaling shakily, pressing his forehead between her shoulder blades to ground himself.
The elevator doors opened with a pleasant ding, and the crowd dispersed. Tony didn't want to get lost as the new floor had just as many people scurrying about. He reached blindly for Natasha, and for once, he grounded himself when her fingers intertwined with his. I won't leave you, it's okay. Her whispers in his ear soothed the anxiety lurking beneath the surface- just barely.
The meeting room was bullet-proof, sound-proof, and came with a bowl full of peppermints hastily discarded in the middle. Tony could recognize some of the people as they took their seats, and he knew some of them kept looking to him. Looking through him, and only seeing his past mistakes. His company's past mistakes.
Emma's stone-cold glare turned dazzlingly bright the second her eyes landed on Tony, and she greeted him with a wave. She was wearing her signature ice blue matte lipstick. The fluffy-haired southern girl seemed taken aback, glancing between Tony and Emma in disbelief. Her companions were in a similar state.
Natasha squeezed Tony's shoulder just as she pulled a chair out for him, which he sat in quickly to prevent himself from falling. He checked his heart rate with his wristwatch, grimacing at his heightened pulse.
Natasha took a seat next to Tony on his right, and next to her best-friend and workplace rival, Clint Barton. His platinum blond hair was cut short and choppy, and he smiled as he bumped his shoulder with hers. He wore a mix of purple and black- like a perfectly crafted aesthetic. He was lean but muscular, and had hearing aids in both ears.
Tony was struggling to keep himself calm. Natasha had handed him a stress ball, bright yellow and suspiciously duck-shaped, straight from one of her pockets and still warm. As everyone took their seats, Director Fury cleared his throat for the attention of all present.
"Some of you were royal pains in the ass to get here. If I had to deal with Professor Xavier for ten more minutes, I would have shot everyone in this room and then myself. Rogue, charmed, I'm sure, but time is money and right now we don't have any fucking time left." The fluff-ball, Rogue, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, stuck her tongue out once before the other woman Tony didn't exactly recognize punched her in the arm.
"Director Fury, uh, sir, is this about the incident a few weeks ago?" The mystery woman had even raised her hand, like they were in school. Fury's single eye landed on her, as did all of his glorious disappointment he seemed to exude whenever he had to deal with other humans.
"Cattaneo I don't pay you to ask the obvious. The whole 'declaration of independence being stolen for half an hour' is only a part of why you're all here. We've got bigger fish to fry than vampires and small-time super villains who think they're hot shit." The man with the sunglasses had stiffened when Fury mentioned vampires.
"Uh, is anyone gonna tell him vampires don't exist?" Tony had leaned in close to whisper in Natasha's ear, and visibly cringed when the man who flinched lowered his glasses and glared with his piercing silvery eyes right to Tony. The other mutant with black sclera and the fluff-ball Rogue also looked in Tony's direction, like they pitied his ignorance.
"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. Vampires are real, werewolves are real, so are the gods, different types of cryptids, and you already know about the alien robots. Meant to debrief you but the flow of traffic and how crowded the elevator was I didn't get the chance." Natasha had pointed at Eric Brooks when the word vampire left her mouth, pointed to Steve when she mentioned werewolves, and only made a vague gesture at the rest regarding cryptids and the aliens. Tony didn't know what to make of it, only straightening in his seat and avoiding eye contact with any of the others.
They didn't have to see Tony's ignorance. Clearly, the common populace was living in an entirely different world, and Tony must have been too… sheltered. He'd been given another reason to hate Howard, rage boiling in his blood. He held his tongue, simply nodded, and acted like he was paying attention to Fury once more.
He had paled considerably, although there was a flush to his cheeks. Tony was likely running a fever, but brushed it off as shock, and exhaustion from traveling. He could lie to their faces and they would be none the wiser.
"We've got dozens of POWs that were recently rescued by Cattaneo's team and the shit they've seen doesn't bode well for the rest of us. We have confirmation that the little… stunt caused by the Camaro kid and rocket boots has nothing to do with the recent developments with H.Y.D.R.A., think of those two like a few galactic pranksters with some real bad fucking timing. While some of you have been doing your jobs, and the others doing fuck-all, looking at you Stark- we've finally compiled enough data for a counter-offensive." Their eyes landed on Tony again when the Director said his name.
Tony wanted to shrink into his seat. He should have kept his mouth shut, he should have just nodded along like a good boy, this was Stane all over again-
Natasha's hand at the small of his back reminded Tony where he was. She was his silent encouragement, tilting her head in Fury's direction. With her free hand, she slid the USB stick across the table, and murmurs from the others made Tony's vision swim.
"Excuse you? I haven't been doing nothing, for your information eye patch- uh, Director, Fury, whatever the hell your damn name is. I've been deciphering everything you've had Agent Romanova bring me. I sure as hell don't want to work for you, hell, I don't want to work with you. But I did, and I got the results your little brainiacs in their professional labs couldn't get you. So next time, get your facts straight before you insult me." Tony kept his tone level. He kept his calm, but underneath the surface he was seething. He couldn't decipher to look in Fury's eye, but he knew approval when he saw it.
"And here I thought you were a coward, Stark. I'll be damned, Agent Romanoff hasn't updated me about you in months." Tony was Natasha's little secret. He looked over his shoulder to see her expression, and never before had the unspoken try me been so clearly on her features before.
Tony had helped, of his own accord. It was like a switch had been flipped in the room, the gazes roaming over his body no longer disgusted and intrusive. The tension in the air had settled on something cohesive- acceptance.
"She had me fix some things. I made them better, and included a way to track the parts. I don't know if that's something you wanted, but you got it." Tony crossed his arms as all of the attention had finally landed on him. He could command their attention, demand their metaphorical allegiance as long as they would listen to what he had to say. Tony Stark was more than a genius, he was the smartest in the room, while his leg bounced beneath the table, and his hands shook until he gripped onto his blazer like his life depended on it-
"Wow, Mister Stark, you're terrified, aren't you?" That tiny mysterious woman- Cattaneo- was speaking to him.
"Look, I don't trust the government. You shouldn't trust the government. Hell, people who work for the government shouldn't trust it. I'm not terrified, I just don't want to be here. I'd rather be in Miami drinking a martini and hoping a tsunami kills me while I'm shitfaced on the beach." Tony was rambling again. Natasha didn't mind, and neither did anyone else, apparently.
If anything, they had agreed with them. Fury knew better than anybody not to trust those around him, and with some of his best agents in the room, they knew just the same.
Within a reasonable margin of error, Tony had somehow cemented his place among them. He did what was needed to be done, without having a prior arrangement to do so. Tony would say he was a great liar, but he wore his heart on his sleeve, as broken as it was, that most didn't notice it was there.
Somehow, they had. All he had to do was treat them as equals, business partners in Emma Frost and Professor Sumdac's case.
Tony wanted to go home before he realized working with others wasn't as bad as he'd thought for over thirty years.