TITLE: In
Extremis
Iron Man (movie)/Transformers (movie)
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned
by
people with a lot more money
Author’s Voice of Warning (aka Author’s Note):
English is not my first language; it’s German. This is the best I can
do. Any
mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize
FEEDBACK: Loved
BLAME: Sapphire made me do it. No, seriously, I was toying with the
idea and
Sapph wasn’t trying very hard to discourage me. She actually went over
some of
the ideas with me. Between her leaving on Sunday and the next weekend I
wrote
this baby. All blame to her. And the rather receptive brain cell.
PLOT-BETAS: Sapphire and elfin
GRAMMAR-BETAS: okami_myrrhibis and elfin
In Extremis. Latin. Meaning "in the furthest reaches" or "at
the point of death", generally referring to grave or exceptional
circumstances
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Author’s
note: The Extremis in the Iron Man comic book series has fascinated me
to no
end. Iron Man: Extremis was the first comic book I bought after a very
long
time. I devoured it.
Since I write movie fic and the movie is so very different from the
comic in
oh-so many ways I had a hard time coming up with a plausible
explanation for
Extremis in this ‘verse. It has almost the same functions, but with a
twist.
The IM fans who know about Extremis will see what I mean. Everyone
else: just
enjoy the story.
This mixes comic book facts and characters with the movie!
Happy reading.
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One of the advantages of working with the Autobots and Project was the
almost
unlimited access to Sector Seven files, as well as all their
experiments of the
past decades. Tony Stark had first employed his skills as a hacker,
then gotten
the official passwords and codes from Banachek – which was like an open
invitation into the sacred halls.
Tony had been in heaven.
His mind had worked overtime when he had started to browse through all
the
accumulated information. He had even taken everything upstairs to read
when he
had to leave the workshop for some mundane matter or other.
The work of one Dr. Ben Lays fascinated Tony the most. Lays had been
among the
first scientists to explore the inner workings of the Ice Man. He had
taken
sections off the frozen mechanoid and put them under an electro
microscope.
That had been in the fifties. Lays had worked tirelessly on exploring
the true
depths of the machine Sector Seven kept hidden and he had made
astounding
discoveries. While no one knew what a nanite was back then, Lays had
filled
several note books with details of what he perceived as tiny machines
that
rebuilt the section of the skin he had removed from Ice Man. While
frozen, the
nanites were dormant. When they were exposed to any kind of energy, be
it
solar, atomic, or otherwise, they would revive and try to repair the
damage
done.
Lays had died in 1988, still a scientist for Sector Seven even as he
had
already reached the amazing age of ninety-five. Tony would have wanted
to meet
the man because of his revolutionary discoveries and his infinite
knowledge and
theorizing on mechanoid life. Others had picked up on what Lays had
started,
but they hadn’t had the true grasp of genius.
Tony had.
And he had something Lays hadn’t had: mechanoids who answered open
questions.
Hot Rod had been more than willing to help. He wasn’t a scientist, so
some
questions Tony posed were impossible for him to answer. But he let
Stark scan
him, as well as answered questions as to why he hadn’t repaired his
systems
while hiding in Tony’s garage.
It was a matter of energy conservation.
Tony was even more fascinated. While the protoform was able to
withstand
immense heat or cold, contained enough material to create the
camouflage shell,
the self-repair for inner systems was put on hold. Hot Rod hadn’t been
able to
answer that; Ratchet had.
“We can survive in stasis-lock,” the medic told Tony.
“But you could also die.”
“It’s a risk we have to take. Our body shell is more resilient than it
appears.
In dire need we could shuck all disguise and revert back to protoform
shape to
insure further survival. It leaves us vulnerable and open, but the
protoform is
denser. It also varies from mech to mech.”
Tony studied the data, frowning a little. “These nanites are part of
the
protoform then?”
“They are what form the camouflage shell. Without them, we couldn’t do
what we
do in the amount of time we do it.”
Tony chuckled. “I see.”
The concept of these little repair units kept Tony awake at night
testing all
kinds of variations on that idea. The basic construction plan of the
nanites
wasn’t really all that different from what human scientists had thought
about
for decades, just more sophisticated. Tony had kept an eye on those
developments and had made his own experiments, but he had never pursued
it.
Maybe he should have.
At least he was now.
Using the nanite idea, Tony involved himself in that research, set
Jarvis on
several ideas for the AI to experiment with, and while he was also
running his
company, Tony was now more or less a permanent fixture in his workshop.
Pepper
had to move him out of there with a crowbar most of the time when he
was
supposed to be some place else. She couldn’t shut down his brain though.
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“Fuck!”
The expletive rang through the workshop, audible even through the hard
beats of
music, and Tony sucked at the cut in his hand. Blood still dripped onto
the
table and he glowered at the red drops.
It wasn’t the first time he had injured himself while working on the
suit. It
wouldn’t be last. It would definitely never be the last since he also
injured
himself while inside the armor.
Oh well.
Tony walked over to the sink and let water run over the cut, glaring at
it. It stung,
but it wasn’t deep, and it was bleeding sluggishly. An arm descended
from the
ceiling and held out the first aid kit.
“Thanks, Jarvis.”
The music dialed down.
“Whatever keeps you from exsanguination, Sir.”
Tony fumbled with the clasps and took out a piece of gauze, pressing it
against
the wound. He winced a little, but this was nothing compared to other
injuries
he had had before. This was truly no more than a paper cut. He wrapped
some
bandages around it, cleaned up and turned to look at the offensive
piece of
metal.
The new armor was turning out to be rather… difficult. While the basic
model
was still the same, Tony had started to tinker with the shielding, the
flight
control and some of the sensors. All proved to be rather entertaining
for him,
aside from the shielding. That was throwing up faults and keeping him
on his
toes with error messages. Now he had also cut himself on the thing.
Great.
Not his day.
Tony reached for his mug and grimaced at the lukewarm coffee. Still, he
emptied
the mug and placed it into the center of his work bench.
“Jarvis? Implement changes,” he ordered.
“Affirmative, Sir.”
Tony took the offending piece of metal and wiped off the droplets of
blood
clinging to it, then tossed the whole thing into the scrap metal bin.
Jarvis
would recycle it. The whole idea hadn’t worked in practice, only in
theory.
Back to the drawing board it was.
Seven hours later the first remodeling of the exterior of the armor was
done.
Nothing obvious had changed, but Tony knew that he had improved things
greatly.
He ran a hand over the smooth metal and smiled.
“Ready for a spin?” he asked softly.
The armor, of course, didn’t answer.
“Jarvis, we’re going for a ride,” Stark said out loud as he headed for
where he
kept the black undergarment of the suit.
“How exciting, Sir,” was the dry reply.
Tony chuckled.
Ten minutes after that a golden and red streak shot across the sky.
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Tony hadn’t really felt so good for a while now. Two days, if he had to
put a
time label on it. It had started with a sore throat and a sniffle. Now
he was
running a low-grade fever, he slept longer than he was used to, he was
easily
exhausted, and he ached all over.
Summer flu, Pepper had called it.
He called it a bother and something that shouldn’t have such crippling
effects
on his brain. He couldn’t concentrate, which was a menace to his
experiments,
and he forgot even more memos and emails than was usual. Pepper kept
coming
down into the workshop every hour to gently remind him of a signature
needed or
an okay he had to give. He finally told her to forge his signature and
decide
on what to buy, sell, or ignore herself. It had gotten him raised brows
and
something along the lines of ‘You don’t pay me enough for this’ before
she had
left.
When she came downstairs an hour later, Tony jerked out of a doze he
hadn’t
been aware of falling into.
He felt abysmal.
He felt like something had stepped on him and scraped the remains off
at the
nearest piece of rock.
His head was killing him, his joints ached, and even the thought of a
new
gadget or an upgrade to test couldn’t rouse him.
“Go to bed,” Pepper told him firmly. It sounded repetitive. Actually it
was.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
“You’re not and you’re just too stubborn to confess you’re feeling like
crap.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. Even that hurt. “Harsh words, Ms. Potts.”
“It seems you don’t understand subtle any more.”
Pepper was glaring at him and it was a rather angry glare. Very
impressive,
too. Tony smiled and turned back to the computer screen where a model
of the
Ghost-2 was currently put through the virtual wringer. So far it was
handling
just fine.
“Go. To. Bed.”
“Coming with me?” he teased.
Her eyes flashed fire at him. “In your dreams.”
“There’s always room for you in my dreams.”
Again he turned back to the screen.
The hard clicks of Pepper’s heels announced her retreat, but Tony could
almost
feel the look she had given him.
He ignored her. He had a personal deadline to meet and he would meet
it. A flu
couldn’t stop him; it never had in the past.
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Pepper flopped down on the couch in the living room and sighed deeply.
Her eyes
were drawn to the peaceful vista outside. Nothing but sun and blue
skies.
Perfect weather.
She took out her cell phone and pushed a button.
“Hello, Pepper,” Hot Rod’s voice greeted her.
“He’s still working, right?”
“Of course. You know he would be.”
Another sigh. “He’s sick, Hot Rod. He should be relaxing.”
“I think Tony’s definition of ‘relaxation’ is work.”
“Hasn’t taken you very long to figure that out.”
“It’s not exactly hard.”
“True.”
“Jarvis and I are keeping an eye on him,” Hot Rod reassured her.
“I know you will and it’s good to know, but he needs rest. He’s doing
too much
at the moment. The company, Iron Man, the Ghost-2… and whatever else
he’s
fiddling around with.”
Hot Rod chuckled. “I doubt it’s the first time Tony is multi-tasking
under
adverse conditions.”
Pepper grimaced. She had no idea what kept the man running, but Tony
Stark had
given speeches while drunk, had astounded audiences with his eloquent
ways, had
charmed heads of state, and had survived getting shot at, blown up and
crashing
– only to sit in a board meeting as if nothing had ever happened.
Thankfully
the alcohol consumption had lessened. Tony was mostly clean of that
vice. He
had turned to coffee instead.
“Maybe I’m just a worry wart,” Pepper muttered.
“You’re one of his few true friends,” Hot Rod told her. “You have the
right to
worry. By the way, he has fallen asleep.”
“He has? That’s new.”
“Well, he’s dozing off,” the mech corrected. “He’ll be asleep soon. His
vital
functions are normal for a human.”
“A human with an arc reactor in his chest?” she asked wryly.
“Yes. The reactor isn’t influencing his physical functions in a
negative way.”
Pepper was silent for a moment, eyes on the sky outside again. “Keep an
eye on
him,” she finally only said.
“You know we will.”
She put the Blackberry away and remained on the couch a while longer,
enjoying
the silence of the perfectly climate controlled house. Jarvis was
monitoring,
she knew, and should she address him he would answer. There was nothing
to talk
about, though.
Finally Pepper rose and left.
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Tony had
woken with a headache this morning, but the fever was gone and he
hadn’t had
the queasy stomach any more. If at all, he felt hungry. His breakfast
had
consisted of a lot of coffee and some hastily burned toast. He would
have
Pepper get him something real after the board meeting.
He grimaced at the thought. One of his favorite past times.
The achy feeling had turned into a constant dull beat and Tony felt a
bit
nauseous by the time Happy dropped him off at
“Are you okay, sir?” Happy asked.
“Fine. Headache. Nothing serious.”
The ache had turned into a slight pressure inside his head and he
sighed
silently. Just what he needed. He'd get some aspirin later. For now he
had
heads to bash and people to introduce, and knowing his staff they would
waylay
him to get papers signed on the way in and out of the meeting room.
Stark got out of the Rolls and straightened his suit jacket. The whole
suit was
impeccably tailored and ridiculously expensive, all in black, and he
wore it
like a shield.. He pushed his sun glasses up his nose and nodded at the
security guard who held the door open for him.
Time to start being the industrialist for a few hours.
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Five hours later Tony Stark walked out of the board meeting, trying to
look
more awake than he actually was. The meeting had been dull, as not
otherwise
expected, with the usual posturing, arguing, mildly venomous barbs, and
Tony’s
cutting remarks that if this was a kindergarten party, he would call
for some
clowns to lighten up the mood.
Tony finally decided to confront the bickering bunch with the hard
facts of
life: weapons contracts were a thing of the past. He still researched
material
for the military, but that was solely connected to Project and the
Autobots. It
paid very well. The new branch of Stark Industries, medical equipment,
computers and cell phones, was running pretty good.
“It’s not the same money as weapons,” Carl Summers argued.
“No, it isn’t,” Tony agreed amiably. “It’s no longer blood money.”
“You conscience in all honors,” he shot back. “But we’re losing stock!
The
stockholders aren’t happy.”
“You know what we’re really doing, gentlemen,” Tony said, voice hard
and
unyielding. “We’re building a future. We’re involved in one of the
biggest
secrets the world has ever known. What we manufacture is something only
we have
access to.”
They all knew about the Cybertronian tech and they knew where the money
came
from. It didn’t stop the hunger for more money, though.
“This is still my company, gentlemen.”
And he’d make damn sure it would remain his company, even if he had to
sell his
soul to Banachek.
“And this is the course it’s going to take. Any of you who have a
problem with
that, it’s very easy to write a resignation. My email is always open.”
Tony rose.
“That would be all, I believe.”
And he left.
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Stark Industries’ stock had risen in the past few weeks. Everything was
quiet
on the political front and Tony was able to work on what was really
important
right now.
It was throughout his research into Sector Seven’s secret files that
Stark
stumbled across the name of Dr. Maya Hansen. The woman was a medical
designer
and her work had already received great recognition. Tony browsed
journals and
articles, found dozens of references on the Net and he hacked into
files he
shouldn’t have access to at all – or even known about. It was how he
came
across the Super-Soldier program. He had heard of it before.
Hansen had taken the failed program from the mid-forties and pushed it
to the
next level, but as her research failed to bring any success and
promised no
immediate results, she was finally shut down. With it, her project had
been
shut away as well.
She had called it Extremis.
Tony was fascinated as he went through the research files.
“Extremis is a bio-electronics package, fitted into a few billion
graphic
nanotubes and suspended in a carrier fluid,” she had written in
the
documentation of her experiments. “It hacks the body’s repair
center, the
part of the brain that keeps a complete blueprint of the human body.
When we’re
injured we refer to that area of the brain in order to heal properly.
Extremis
rewrites the repair center. In the first stage of execution, the normal
human
blueprint is rewritten into the Extremis blueprint.”
Tony wondered how she could accomplish that. How did one tell Extremis
what the
blueprint was? What was normal and what not? How could the
bio-engineered tech
virus know? Medical science today had come so far, but this was beyond
his
understanding.
“The brain is being told that the body is wrong,” he
read on. “The process was never tested
on human subjects due to the instability of the nanotubes.”
Tony snorted. Instability my ass, he
thought.
Just looking at the tech specs had him wincing. Hansen had a medical
background, but she was missing the engineering knowledge necessary to
make the
electronic parts work. That and the missing continued funding.
Tony saw it. In every detail. And it was beautiful. In an eerie way, of
course.
It was highly dangerous and no one in his right mind would voluntarily
undergo
such an extreme, but no one had ever called Tony sane. ‘Erratic’, yes,
but
sane?
He grinned.
“Jarvis, download all files on the Extremis and Dr. Maya Hansen’s other
work.”
“Very well, sir. May I ask what you’re planning?”
“Finish what she started.”
Jarvis was silent for a moment. “Do you think it wise, sir?”
“I think it’s interesting and warrants further research. She was on to
something, Jarvis. And I know that the Extremis has potential.”
Because if he reprogrammed the Extremis to his needs, he might solve
several
problems that had been bugging him for months. The reaction time of the
suit
was inadequate. He still felt like a lumbering hunk of metal, like the
Mark I
had been. Tony wanted a smoother handling, the feeling that the armor
was just
a second skin. He needed maneuverability and endurance, and if he wired
the
Extremis into the suit to act like a neural transmitter… it might work.
It
could rewrite the human body – in theory – so it should be able to
rewrite the
suit, too.
“Done, sir,” Jarvis announced.
Tony smiled. He loved a challenge and this was truly one.
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The latest test flights had gone smoothly. The weapons testing had been
perfect. The fact that if a weapon was strong enough and the impact was
hard
enough could still permanently damage the armor sat heavily with Tony.
That
hadn’t been the plan. He had hoped to trigger the P-Cells, as he called
them,
into repairing any damage done.
The Protoform Cells were nanites constructed with Cybertron technology.
They
were a derivation off the tiny cell structures in the Autobots’ skin
that repaired
their damage, given enough energon and time. Tony had spent weeks at
the
project, ignoring everything else, except when Pepper hit him with a
verbal
mallet and had him attend meetings and PR stuff. He hated those. All
tests in
the lab had gone perfectly on small examples of armor. Damage was
always
repaired.
It didn’t work on the real life model.
Tony was frustrated and his moods varied. Had he still been drinking,
he would
have fallen into bed, if he found it, intoxicated every single night.
So he just
snarled and snapped and bitched, and drank excessive amounts of coffee.
“Jarvis?” he snapped. “What’s taking so long?”
“All computations show no error, sir,” Jarvis replied dutifully. “The
P-Cells
are working perfectly.”
“They are not!” Tony replied sharply. “The armor remains damaged.
There’s no
sign of any kind of repair. It should work!”
Tony ran a hand through his already tousled hair, smearing grease and
oil
everywhere.
It should work.
It should do what it was supposed to.
The P-Cells did everything they had been programmed to do… until he
applied
them to his armor and then… nothing. Not even a beep!
Tony sat down at his workstation again and called up every schematic,
then
transferred them to the holographic display table.
“We’ll start again,” he ground out.
On a whim he called up Extremis on the second monitor. Maybe he could
mesh it
all somehow, make it work as a hybrid form.
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It took Tony another three days of cursing and next to no sleep – he
still
attended the charity events, meetings and business deals necessary to
keep the
company afloat and placate some of the stakeholders, which Pepper
insisted he
had to go to -- to finally get the P-Cells to behave as he had planned
them to.
At least for now and at least until something else went wrong somehow.
No, don’t think like that, he growled at himself.
Pepper had declared him a lost cause and the few visits by Rhodey had
been
accompanied by head-shaking and comments like ‘you’re crazy’ and ‘I
always knew
you’d work yourself to death’. Hot Rod was his silent, watchful self.
The mech
rarely initiated conversations when Tony was working. It was like he
knew and
respected the ‘haze’ his friend was in and Tony appreciated it.
Stark had teleconferenced board meetings, had appeared at five out of
ten
charity events, which was a record anyway, and he had kept up with his
company’s
new direction.
It didn’t help that part of his mind was simultaneously checking and
rechecking
specs of the Ghost-2 and coming up with ideas for that as well.
Sometimes he
wished there was an off-switch.
As it was… there was none. And his mind was hard to tame. Especially
since
Extremis still occupied his thoughts quite dominantly. Simulations had
shown
that there was no way at all to incorporate Extremis into the armor
itself. It
just didn’t work that way. So a new idea crossed his mind: incorporate
Extremis
into the user; himself.
It was highly dangerous. It was completely radical. It could kill him.
Tony smiled darkly and touched the arc reactor glowing in his chest. A
lot of
things had nearly killed him, but he had survived.
“Jarvis, run a probability on the injection of Extremis into a human
body.”
There was a long second of silence. “Sir?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you seriously considering injecting Extremis into your system?”
the AI
queried.
“Do it, Jarvis. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Sir,” came the almost snappish reply.
“Tony?” Hot Rod asked.
He sighed. “What?”
“Are you? Thinking about injecting Extremis into yourself?” the mech
added.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dangerous. You could kill yourself.”
“Or I could give myself the edge I need. I’m like a flying tank, Roddy.
My
fights tell me my weak spots and those are maneuverability, speed and
the
weight of the armor. It’s impossible to make the circuits even smaller
and
while the P-Cells help with the repair, I’m still vulnerable.”
“If you kill yourself in the lab because of an experiment that would
end all
theorizing about fights,” Hot Rod pointed out.
He smiled darkly. “It would, wouldn’t it?”
With that Tony turned to the model Jarvis was constructing, watching
the
simulated injection of the Extremis into a human model. He knew his
chances
were slim if he used Dr. Hansen’s original version, but maybe, just
maybe he
could get the virus to work as he wanted it to. He didn’t need
superpowers. He
didn’t need to throw flames or ooze acid. He needed maneuverability and
speed.
The armor would fly, not him. He needed a better interface and that
interface
was Extremis.
Tony set to work on altering the command codes and running more
simulations.
Hot Rod watched his human charge, worry coursing through him. Tony was
an
intense man, someone willing to risk himself, his health and even his
sanity,
to accomplish that he wanted. He was a risk-taker. Hot Rod knew the
breed; he
was a risk-taker himself. But he had never gambled on his physical
health, had
never wanted to upgrade with untested software. Hot Rod had also never
thought
of himself as lowly as Tony did. He had realized in the time he had
spent with
the man that Tony Stark’s opinion of himself differed from that of
others.
Tony was ready to risk it all now.
And Hot Rod wondered if there was anything he could do to stop him.
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Taking the upgraded armor out for a spin was Tony’s way to relax.
Flight was a
freedom he had never felt before. He had never flown anything himself,
never
been a co-pilot, but the armor… being the pilot and the plane in one,
it was
more than an adrenaline rush. It was everything for him.
Today wasn’t just for fun, thought. He wanted to test the P-Cells, this
time
under realistic battle conditions. While he would have liked nothing
more than
to go into a war zone and show those terrorists what he thought of them
using
his weapons, Tony had set up his own little playground over at Nellis.
Bowman
had just shrugged and shaken his head at the request, but he hadn’t
tried to
argue against it. And since the Autobots were using Nellis as their
link to
their own base, having Iron Man test new armor was not out of the
ordinary,
really.
The flight took him an hour, but only because he dawdled. He activated
his
anti-radar shield and took the armor for an atmospheric spin. Above the
clouds,
without anyone watching him, Tony flew lazy arcs, tight turns and
loops, and he
laughed at the exhilaration he felt.
Jarvis luckily didn’t call him on that. The AI was silent, just
monitoring.
When he finally touched down in his private little test zone, Tony was
grinning
like an idiot. No one could understand what it felt like. This was only
for
him.
“Jarvis, fire up the P-Cells.”
“Very well, sir.”
The HUD lit up with new data and Tony found the upgrade working
smoothly with
the already existing programs. The P-Cells wouldn’t act unless required
to.
They weren’t just a thin layer of cells on the armor; they had been
integrated
into the molecularly bonded shielding, were part of the armor.
“Now let’s see what we can do…”
Tony activated the small barrage of weapons he had installed in this
out of the
way location and immediately he had warnings coming in. He had been
marked and
the weapons system was ready to fire.
He grinned.
This would be fun.
Launching into the sky, he was immediately tracked and targeted.
Duck. Left. Right.
Fire.
Evade.
Small hit to the left shoulder.
Cutting it close to the ground.
Missile away, following him. Tight turn.
Left-right-left, repulsor blast.
The missile exploded in a small bloom of fire.
But Tony didn’t have time to feel triumphant. The next battery of
weapons fire
headed his way and this time he met it head on. He wanted to test the
armor’s
capabilities while under fire.
And fire there was.
Tony felt it batter against the outer armor, he saw the warnings flash
up on
the HUD, and he gritted his teeth as a missile strike sent him crashing
into
the ground. He got up, deactivating the program, and looked at the
charred skin
on his side. The golden and red coloring had been burned and there was
a gash.
Suddenly something seemed to lance through him, cutting his chest
apart. He
gasped, his knees giving way. The very ground seemed to grow wavy and
twisted
around him. His mind buzzed with something akin to whispers.
The world around him went black.
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Eleven minutes had passed.
Tony lay on the ground, still completely in his armor, gazing almost
stupidly
at the HUD display. There were no more warnings about amour breaches.
The P-Cells had worked.
And they had almost depleted the arc reactor.
Well, shit.
Tony sat up with a groan and his hand brushed over the chest plate
where the arc
reactor glowed dimly. The HUD information told him that while it was
reloading,
it was only at thirty percent.
What the hell was going on with the P-Cells? The last simulations
hadn’t shown
any kind of severe power depletion. The P-Cells didn’t need all that
much
energy! He had modeled them after the Autobots’ version, which was
running on
very low power unless a reconstruction was needed, and even then they
wouldn’t
draw almost all available power.
Back to the drawing board.
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Tony gulped down some aspirin and sighed, closing his eyes. Damn this
headache
and damn his aching body as well! The pain had subsided a bit because
of the
medication, but it was still there. He had managed to ignore most of it
and
when he concentrated on his work he felt marginally better.
He was used to bruises and even bullet wounds, but this was more like
the
remnants of the flu. His joints were protesting most movement and he
felt
tired.
It didn’t help when Pepper came down into the workshop, scowling at him
at his
obvious state of pain and no sleep, and handed him a cell phone.
“Banachek,” she only said.
Tony was immediately alert. He took the phone and smiled as he greeted
Tom
Banachek.
“To what do I owe the honor?”
He winked at Pepper and she scowled more, pointedly looking at the
charred
armor and his ruffled looks. Tony ignored the non-verbal criticism
because what
he heard on the cell was the best news in weeks.
“You better reserve a parking space,” he joked. “I’ll be there
yesterday.”
“Good news?” Pepper asked neutrally.
“The best. Official invite to the Autobot base.”
“How nice. You plan on a shower and sleep first?”
“Shower only. I can sleep on the way.”
Pepper’s lips were pressed into a fine line, her eyes reflecting the
eye-roll
she wasn’t showing.
“Roddy, fire up your engine. We’re going to visit your friends,” Tony
called as
he headed for the stairs to make good of the shower promise.
And then he was out of ear shot.
Pepper looked at the obvious signs of Tony’s armor tests, then glanced
at Hot
Rod.
“How bad was it this time?”
“It seems the P-Cells are working,” Hot Rod replied. “But they deplete
the arc
reactor. Aside from that, I’m worried about Tony, Pepper. He hasn’t
slept
properly and I think he’s still fighting off flu symptoms.”
“It takes more than the common flu to keep him down, Hot Rod.”
“I noticed,” came the wry answer.
“And it won’t do any good mother-henning either,” Pepper went on with a
knowing
air. “He’ll just fight it all harder.”
“That I noticed, too.”
“So just keep an eye on him down here. I’ll keep him from running into
doors
and lamp posts in the real world.”
Hot Rod chuckled. “It’s a deal.”
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Tony was dizzy and felt like he was packed in wool. His head seemed to
be three
sizes too large and his body didn't really belong to him. Only with an
immense
effort was it possible for him to coordinate his movements and he was
afraid
that he would lose all control the next step. This was only getting
worse, not
better.
He wouldn’t succumb to another round of the flu. It had had its chance
and he
didn’t need it. With the flu he wouldn’t be able to go into space and
he would
do almost all to be on board the Ghost-2.
He felt a little better after the shower and he improved on the way
back down
into the garage where Hot Rod was waiting. Pepper was nowhere to be
seen, but
that had been expected.
“Ready?” Tony asked.
The driver’s door opened. “Ready.”
“Then let’s go.”
He fell asleep fifteen minutes later and Hot Rod employed his
holographic
projection unit, replicating the whole interior and adding a driver.
Tony needed some rest.
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Watching Tony Stark work was… not exactly poetry in motion, but it was
something special. Ex-Army Ranger Will Lennox had found that just
sitting in
the lab and watching the man was… amazing. Having him work together
with Sam
was downright eerie sometimes. Both men could confuse even a seasoned
mech like
Ratchet, or Ironhide, and Will had more than once remarked about that
to his
partner. Ironhide readily confessed that Stark was a unique person.
Ratchet
would add that the man was also highly erratic.
Tony worked without blueprints. He would draw schematics, he would work
with
the holographic sketching table, but the main work was done inside his
very
agile mind. Only if a design worked would he draw the schematics for
everyone
to access and read over. The rest was on his own personal ‘hard drive’.
With Sam, matters were more physical because he used the computer units
in the
lab, but he rarely typed nowadays. He was so familiar with the tech
around him,
he accessed it with his mind. At first it had creeped out those who
hadn’t seen
the young engineer work his ‘magic’. Will himself had had to get used
to a
screen suddenly coming to life and strings of code appearing on it. Now
it was
almost normal.
Together the two men had started to redesign the Ghost-2 in a
manner no
one else would have been able to.
Ratchet had received a file from Stark Industries, Tony Stark
personally, about
two weeks earlier. It had contained the totally reworked plans of the Ghost-2,
a set of modifications, several tests run on said modifications on a
model
created solely in cyberspace, as well as several notes on the
performance of a
small scale model Stark had built and tested. There were pages of
footnotes
relating to changes that needed to be made should the cargo lifted to
the
Ratchet had just stared at the files and shook his head.
“This is amazing,” he had commented when he had shown everything to
Ironhide
and Optimus Prime.
“Especially considering that no one asked him to do it,” Prime had
agreed.
No one really had. Tony had simply done it. Spare time, he had claimed.
Will knew better. Tony Stark simply wasn’t a man to ignore a challenge
and the
Ghost-2 had proven to be one.
“This is me being helpful!” the industrialist genius argued. “Why is
everyone immediately suspicious?”
“Maybe because you’ve tried every trick in the book to get in on the
next
mission,” Will replied amiably.
“Almost every trick,” came the reply. Tony grinned at him over the
video-conference link. “I still have some really good aces up my
sleeves.”
“Like the reworked Ghost-2 model?”
“I had some time on my hands,” was the dismissive reply, but there was
no
missing the excited glint in the dark eyes.
“Sure, Tony.”
How a man who was the CEO of an international company, who had just
turned said
company around and had proven it worked, still had time for all Tony
did… it
was beyond Will.
But he had that time. Probably less sleep, too. And Tony Stark was
trying to
help them with the second mission. Sure, he wanted in on it, but he was
offering payment.
Sam and the other engineers had checked the plans, had tweaked them
some more,
had sent them back – and had received an email an hour after sending
Tony their
changes that, while polite, told them that their changes were crap and
would
surely crash the ship.
So Katie and Finch had set out to prove their ideas were viable. The
model had
behaved wonderfully until it had blown apart because of a calculation
error.
Stark had come to the base immediately after his ‘invitation’ and ever
since he
and Sam hadn’t really left the lab. Will had joined them as a spectator
and
sometimes as an assistant. From Prime he knew that Tony was now
officially part
of the mission and would be aboard the Ghost-2. Stark was also
funding
some of the research and construction with his own money. He was truly
paying
for this ticket to the Moon. In work and in cash. Banachek wasn’t
openly happy
about it, but he wasn’t opposing it either.
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Days should consist of forty-eight hours. At least.
Tony scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling tired, exhausted. He
couldn’t
remember a decent night of sleep. His mind was occupied with the
P-Cells, Extremis,
the Ghost-2, and sometimes even his company. He almost laughed.
And now,
just before he had left Nevada because Pepper had forcibly reminded him
five
times that he had a meeting with some idiot who only wanted to deal
with the
CEO of a company and never with a representative, Banachek had reminded
him to
get back to him on his proposal for a new board member of Stark
Industries.
Banachek knew that one of the old guys was leaving, that several were
about to
leave in the future, and he wanted someone there who was connected to
Project
and the Autobots.
Stark downed the glass of lemon water and grimaced. He had removed
almost all
of the alcoholic drinks from the private jet and had kicked the
strippers off,
too. Well, the normal cabin crew still remained. It felt like a serious
company
jet now; eerie.
Calling up the file of the person in question, Tony tried to
concentrate. John
Keller, former Secretary of Defense, now working for Project. He was a
good
choice for SI, but Tony wasn’t all that sure yet how much of SI he
wanted to
hand over to Banachek to control. So far he had kept it all separate.
If he
wanted to pour more of himself into other projects, into Cybertronian
research
and into Iron Man, he had to make a few choices.
Tony’s cell phone rang and he looked at the display. Pepper.
“Yes, mom?” he asked, sounding bored.
“Mr. Gregory called. He cancelled the appointment,” Pepper could be
heard.
“Son of a bitch. He did that the last time, too!”
“Shall I take him off the customer list?”
“Put him on the wait list for my representative to meet with him,” Tony
ground
out. “He got a second chance. I’m not desperate for his money.”
“Five million?” Pepper reminded him.
“Five million reasons not to let him play me.” He snapped the phone
shut, then
pressed the intercom button. “Harry, turn around. We’re going home.”
“Yes, Mr. Stark,” the pilot answered.
The plane changed course and Tony gestured at the buxom blonde waiting
on him
to get him a whiskey. She smiled brilliantly, professionally, did her
little
‘Yes, Mr. Stark, immediately’ routine and Tony turned to the window.
Sometimes it sucked to be him.
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The jet touched down an hour later and Tony had to smile as he
discovered Happy
waiting for him.
“Hot Rod busy?” he asked as he got into the Rolls.
The mech had returned on his own to the mansion after Tony had gone to
Nellis
to board his private jet for the appointment with Gregory.
“He suggested I pick you up to let you sleep on our way back,” Happy
answered.
“Baby-sitter,” Tony muttered, but he had to smile.
The Rolls pulled away from the airfield and out onto the road. Tony
felt the
exhaustion settle more heavily and he closed his eyes.
“Wake me,” he only said.
“Of course, Sir.”
The hum of the Rolls’ engine lulled him into sleep.
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Tony Stark was no one who gave up easily, but he recognized his limits
when
they were shoved into his face again and again. He was no medical
designer; he
was an engineer. He understood the engineering side of Extremis, but
the
medical side was a mystery to him. All he knew was what Jarvis had run
for him
a hundred times in simulation: the Extremis was untested on live
subjects and
it was deadly in every simulation. His own additions to the program had
changed
nothing. It was what finally convinced him he needed to contact the
woman who
had developed Extremis.
So he looked up Dr. Maya Hansen.
Hansen had been working for different companies in the past five years,
but she
had never kept the job for long. Tony found her in a privately owned
genetic
research lab near
It didn’t take her long to accept his invitation. It took her a bit
longer to
accept his offer to fund the renewed Extremis research.
XXX XXXX XXX XXXX XXX XXXX
“Why?” Hansen asked.
She was a slender woman, dark-haired, pale-faced, and her hair bound
tightly
back. She was dressed in unflattering clothes, wore next to no make-up,
and she
had the red-rimmed eyes of a scientist who worked more than she slept.
Tony
kept wondering if they had ever met before. Maybe at a conference. He
might
have seen her in the crowd or at a seminar. Maybe he had even tried to
chat her
up. One never knew. He had a long line of women in his past that he had
satisfied in one way or another.
He suppressed a dark smile. That long line had been cut off quite
rudely a
while back. The arc reactor made sure that company of either sex was
very
select.
“Extremis interests me,” he now answered.
“It interests you?” She laughed wryly. “A lot of things are
interesting, Mr.
Stark. Movies, books, cars… this is a bio-engineered nano-virus.”
“I’ll fund your research, Dr. Hansen,” Tony said evenly. “You get full
access
to Stark Labs in LA. You’ll have your very own lab, privacy, all you
ever
wanted. You provide me with what I want. That’s the deal. Don’t tell me
you
haven’t done the same work over the years for other people?” There was
a fine
smile around his lips.
She grimaced. “What are you? Santa Claus? Why the gracious offer? What
specifications are we talking about?”
Tony leaned back, hands folded. “That you’ll see when I have your
answer.”
“The Extremis was a failure. I tried all possibilities, and it never
worked.
You think I can whip up some magic and make it work now? Mr. Stark,
funding was
never the problem.”
“I think it was. No money, no research, no brilliant new ideas. Talking
about
brilliant new ideas…”
Tony took a sheet of paper out of his case. He handed it to her and
watched her
every twitch. Hansen didn’t try to hide her reactions.
“Who wrote this?” she demanded.
“I did.”
“You? But…”
“I’m an engineer, Dr. Hansen. Your work interested me. From an
engineering
point of view I did what was possible. I can’t run medical simulations,
though.
I’m no medical designer, so I reached my own limits. You see, we can
work
together and we can finish it.”
“The Super-Soldier Program was discontinued, Mr. Stark. I doubt the
government
or SHIELD would have any further interest in it.”
“This is my own interest. The funds are my own.”
Her eyes narrowed, then she suddenly smiled. “Now I remember. It’s been
a while
I rarely keep up with the news, but I think I remember one of your
little
escapades… Iron Mman, right?”
Tony smiled, his eyes reflecting no humor, though. “Are you in, Dr.
Hansen?” he
asked without answering her question.
She met his stony gaze, visibly torn between walking away and throwing
herself
into this one hundred and ten percent.
XXX XXXX XXX XXXX XXX XXXX
She had said yes in the end, too eager to continue the work she had
never been
able to finish. Tony knew he would get her. She was a scientist. She
was
passionate about this. She had seen failure and she wanted to prove it
could
work.
And Tony wanted to see it work, too. For a different reason. This could
and
hopefully would give him what he needed. Hansen would not only work
with her
old specs, but also with the Cybertronian technology Stark Industries
controlled. Tony’s ideas were very specific. He needed a better
interface for
the suit. He needed it to react with his neural impulses as if the
armor was
just another limb. He had to be more maneuverable, the armor had to be
lighter,
he had to slim it down while not losing integrity or shielding
capabilities.
The P-Cells would took care of repairs, though he still had to handle
the
energy problem.
Extremis was the answer to so many problems – if Maya Hansen could make
it
work.
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The past month had been rather… slow, Hot Rod decided. Tony had gone
back to
regular tinkering with the suit, little upgrades here or there, and
perfecting
the P-Cells. That they still required so much power was a continuing
problem.
The Extremis project was progressing. Tony spent a lot of time talking
to Dr.
Hansen or swinging by the lab to see what was happening progress-wise.
Since he
always took the Audi, Hot Rod was there to keep an eye on matters. He
usually
eavesdropped on conversations and now and then hacked into the computer
to look
at Hansen’s work. He had next to no understanding of bio-tech; Ratchet
would
know more about this. But Tony was his charge and he wanted to make
sure he
wouldn’t just kill himself with Extremis.
John Keller had come into the picture a week ago. Tony had finally met
the
former SecDef in person and Hot Rod had been curious as to the future
developments. He had been very surprised when Tony had told him, almost
casually, that Keller would be made chairman of the board in the coming
months.
SI’s board would probably go through an uproar, but Keller could handle
it. And
he could handle SI. He would be Tony’s ally, the CEO’s ally, and he
needed that
kind of support. While the board knew about the Cybertronians, petty
day-to-day
quarrels sometimes interfered with rational thinking. Keller would deal
with
it, giving Tony the space needed for his own projects – not just Iron
Man, but
reeling in contracts with other companies.
“That was quick,” the mech remarked as Tony stirred his coffee. He was
sitting
on the floor, watching a holographic image lazily turn in the middle of
the
room. It was a complicated formula of something or other.
“Yeah. Had to finally make a choice. Banachek’s been bugging me for
months.”
“That usually leads to more stubbornness from you.”
Tony chuckled. “Know me so well?”
“There is a certain pattern.”
He grinned and refilled the coffee mug from his thermos. The code in
the
hologram changed and formed what looked like a tiny machine.
“You’re still thinking about Extremis?” Hot Rod wanted to know.
“I never stopped.”
“Would you really inject it?”
“In its current form? No. Too dangerous. Later, with my specifications
present?
Maybe.”
“It would still not be tested.”
“I know.”
“Tony… why?”
“Because it’s the only way.”
Hot Rod gave a little whirring sigh. “To kill yourself even faster?”
Dark brows rose. “I’m not trying to kill myself, never have.”
“Your track record begs to differ.”
Tony played with the mug. “It’s what I have to do, Roddy.”
“Kill yourself?”
“Make things right.”
Hot Rod was silent for a moment. “Your revenge turned into redemption?”
He laughed softly. “In a way. It’s how I can look at myself every
morning in
the mirror. I killed people, Roddy. Because of what I sold.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah. Sure. I only built the weapons, I didn’t use them, right? The
old
excuse.” Tony looked away. “I killed those people, Roddy. I am that
killer. I
built the weapons. I perfected the killing machines. Iron Man is a way
to
redeem myself in my own eyes.”
“Does it help?” Hot Rod wanted to know.
Tony laughed humorlessly. “You really have to ask?”
“Considering your sometimes self-destructive behavior, no,” came the
reply.
“Thanks, pal. You’re a real help.”
Hot Rod shifted a little on his shocks, chuckling. “You’re welcome.”
“Jarvis, show me the latest batch Dr. Hansen sent me,” Tony ordered.
Jarvis complied and a faintly blue and yellow schematic appeared. Tony
studied
it silent, frowning now and then. He was still sitting on the ground.
“Jarvis, get me the files from last week as comparison.”
“Very well, sir.”
The next image was green.
“Something wrong?” Hot Rod asked.
“I don’t know yet.” Stark got up. “I need to check some things out.”
And with that he went back to the computer work station.
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Tony had spent some more time with Stark Industries lately. He attended
all
meetings, returned calls, signed papers, and generally had Pepper
bordering on
a heart attack from disbelief. It was nice to know he could still
fluster her.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” she asked one evening as he
went
through the latest contracts she had to get ready by tomorrow morning.
“Never been better.”
Delicate brows drew down, but she didn’t comment, just pushed the
signed
contracts into a folder.
Tony loosened his tie and took another swig from the soda can he had
opened a
minute ago.
“John Keller will start tomorrow,” Pepper suddenly remarked.
“I know.”
“It might explain your tame mood.”
“Tame?” Tony chuckled. “I’ve never been called that before.”
“Would you prefer mellowed?”
“Now you’re insulting, Pepper.”
She smiled and went back to looking through the papers.
An hour later they were done and she walked back outside. It was
already dark,
close to midnight, and she felt tired. Tony had shown her out and the
expression in his face, the relaxation, had told her that something was
changing inside him. It had started with Iron Man and it was still
continuing.
It was a good change; she liked it.
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Tony Stark wasn’t stupid, but apparently Maya Hansen thought so. She
had shown
him test results and discussed possible ways of reprogramming with him.
She had
dutifully kept him updated on matters. She had even shown up early and
worked
late. Still, something about the meetings as matters progressed didn’t
sit well
with Tony.
So he had Jarvis hack the lab’s computer and tag her emails, her phone
calls,
and he even had him follow her credit card trail.
“Aren’t you a bit paranoid, sir?” the AI asked.
“A healthy paranoia is never wrong. It got me as far as I am now.”
Jarvis didn’t answer that statement, but Tony could almost hear the
criticism.
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It didn’t take Tony long to hack into Maya’s accounts, her credit card
statements, her phone records, and so much more. His brows rose as he
read a name
he had heard before.
Fujikawa.
He knew Fujikawa Enterprises. They had tried to take over the
“Bitch,” Tony muttered as he ran an expert eye over the saved files on
Maya’s
server.
She had put up fake files, had transferred a lot of data on external
drives,
and because she was the only one working on the Extremis, no one had
taken much
notice. He had given her the privacy and the space and the resources,
and she
had gone behind his back for money. Tony almost laughed out loud.
Hansen hadn’t
even bargained with him. She had jumped on the chance to do this, and
then sold
him out.
It was time to talk to the woman.
Tony rose and grabbed his car keys. Hot Rod opened the door before he
was even
at the car. Stark smiled grimly, slid into the seat, and started the
engine.
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“Why would she sell you out?” Hot Rod asked.
“Are you that naïve by nature?” Tony asked sarcastically. “Money.”
“I’m not naïve, Tony, just surprised. You offered her what she wanted
to
complete her pet project. It would be stupid to sell you out.”
“No one ever said humanity is the most logical or rational of life
forms.”
“Sorry. My bad. I should have drawn my conclusion from you,” came the
equally
sarcastic reply.
Tony grinned. “Hansen is a greedy bitch, Roddy. She wanted my help in
perfecting the Extremis and then the money of the highest bidder. She
might not
have waited for me to offer the funds, but she was ready to jump on it.
If
Fujikawa had been in my place, she might have offered the prototype to
Stark
Industries.”
“Too bad.”
He burst out laughing. “That’s a way of putting it.”
“Shouldn’t you call the police? It’s industrial espionage, right?”
“This is my problem, Hot Rod. I'll handle it my way.”
Hot Rod hummed, displeased.
“And if anything goes wrong, I’ve got you, right?”
“Of course.” But Hot Rod didn’t sound too happy about it all.
Tony ignored the Autobot’s mood and headed toward the Stark Lab’s
compound
where he would most likely find Maya Hansen. He had given her a lot of
privacy
and she had stabbed him in the back.
Great way to work on his paranoia and trust problem.
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Maya Hansen didn’t feel like a traitor. She felt very little, except…
completion. She had worked on Extremis for so long, had begged for
funding, had
searched for companies who understood what she was trying to do, and
always,
always it had ended in defeat. She had tried to convince people that
her approach
to a modified, functional Super-Soldier serum was the correct way.
Those who
had funded her had withdrawn when results had been either too slow or
had
thrown up more and more failures. In the end she had been forced to put
everything on ice – until Tony Stark.
The industrialist wanted Extremis for himself, for the Iron Man
project. His
understanding of her work was phenomenal, much better and more detailed
than
anyone before. He knew what she wanted to do, he knew that it had never
been
tested, and he provided the engineering angle, as well as the money. It
had
been the perfect partnership.
Maya had betrayed Stark’s trust and a small part of her cringed at it,
but a
much larger had seen the money Fujikawa offered. It would enable her to
go back
into her field of expertise, medical design. She could work on a cure
for
cancer, maybe use parts of Extremis for that. There was so much
potential! No
one but her saw it. No one but her believed in it.
She would do everything for that belief, even sell out someone who had
given
her the best chance she'd had in the past ten years. Extremis as a
Super-Soldier serum replacement might never work, but the basic idea
was
something that could be expanded upon. It was the future. It would be
her
future.
“Going somewhere?”
Maya flinched. The amiable tone of voice, the timbre, the teasing note…
it was
so typically Tony Stark. She turned around slowly and looked at the
man. He was
standing almost casually in the doorway except that there was nothing
casual
about his expression. The dark eyes were hard, the face reflecting
danger.
Stark was a very attractive man and she had read a lot about him in the
past.
He was disgustingly rich, had the looks, the women, the connections. He
had
everything. He might have been the perfect employer, able to give her
what she
wanted, if it wasn’t for her dream. Stark would never go into medical
research.
He would never see her visions. Cancer research was as old as the
sickness
itself. There might never be a cure, or she would crack the code and
heal the
world. Cancer research was prestigious for companies, but it didn’t
yield as
much money as weapons contracts or computer software. It was the
future, but
only she seemed to know it.
“Mr. Stark. I didn’t know you’d come here…” Maya tried to play it cool.
“I wasn’t planning to either, but your little lies forced me to.”
“Lies? I never lied to you!”
“You told me Extremis doesn’t react well to the changes I asked you to
make.
You said it wouldn’t be ready for a few more weeks, that it needed to
be
completely reprogrammed again.” Stark walked closer, each step
measured. “But
you computer logs beg to differ.”
Maya felt something inside her freeze. The computer logs… he had hacked
them.
She just knew it. Stark was good at that.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
“You finished Extremis, Maya, and you already sold it to someone else.
I’m
rather disappointed,” Stark continued, sounding almost casual. “I gave
you the
chance to make something of it, but instead you wanted even more.”
His eyes fell on the carrier, still open, filled with the vials.
“You wanted more money. All you had to do was ask, you know?”
She almost laughed. “I wasn’t looking for a raise, Stark!”
“No, just for a quick buck. How much, Maya? Two million? Three?
Whatever he’s
paying you, it’s a pittance compared to what Extremis means, what it
can do.
I’m sorry you made this step.”
Tony got out his cell phone and as he flipped it open, Maya finally
reacted.
She knew she had to go, she had to get the vials to Fujikawa, and she
couldn’t
be arrested. This was her dream. Extremis was her ticket to all the
money she
had ever wanted for her dream.
She reached for the first thing she could find and lashed out at her
employer.
To Stark’s credit he was fast and he ducked the wireless keyboard
coming at
him.
Maya grabbed the injector gun and one of the lab cutters and rushed at
him.
He grabbed her hand with the cutter.
She pushed the injector into his abdomen.
Tony’s eyes widened briefly.
She squeezed the trigger.
The vial emptied into him with a soft hiss.
There was a horrible moment as time stood still, as she watched the
disbelief
in his eyes, then he staggered backward.
Maya had no time to lose. She had already lost an Extremis sample, but
it had
been necessary to insure her freedom.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
Tony crashed to his knees, the cell phone clattering to the ground. He
was
breathing hard, in pain, and suddenly he bent over with a cry, grabbing
his
stomach. The cry turned into a steady whimper crescending into a sudden
scream,
body spasmning.
She had to go.
Now.
Taking the carrier Maya Hansen fled the lab.
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Tony lay stunned, his world consisting only of the burning feeling in
his
stomach and his ever-narrowing field of vision. Each breath hurt, each
muscle
twitch was agony. Something was running through his body, along his
veins, into
his bones, and it more than hurt. It was agony. It was worse than the
shrapnel.
It was worse than Yinsen implanting the device to keep him alive. It
was worse
than anything he had ever felt before.
He wanted to scream again, but his body was paralyzed.
Tony gasped helplessly, tears forming in his eyes as they closed and
refused to
open.
All he felt was the burn. His heart stuttered, beat, stuttered, tried
to beat
again.
No, his brain cried. No, no, no! Not like this! There
was so much
he still needed to do!
Then even that last thought died.
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The call
came in while Ratchet was going through the latest inventory list with
Lieutenant DeMarco. The base had been rather quiet lately. Jazz and
Arcee were
at the Arctic station, helping with the reconfiguration of the Ghost-2
for the
next mission. Knowing Barricade, he would be around there somewhere,
too.
Ironhide and Will were mostly at Nellis, working with Bowman on
operational
matters. Sam and Bumblebee had taken some time off. The young engineer
had
claimed vacation time, but he would be back this weekend. Ratchet had
taken the
peace and quiet to go over base matters, as had Optimus Prime.
Ratchet was surprised to note that the emergency caller was Hot Rod.
The
younger mech hadn’t been in much personal contact. He sent brief
reports, but
he rarely came here at all. His time was occupied by guarding Tony
Stark – who
was apparently more than a handful. Ratchet respected Stark as a
scientist. The
man’s brain was amazing and his thoughts never followed a normal
pattern.
He opened a com line.
“Ratchet, this is Hot Rod,” the mech said, sounding a bit… stressed. “I
need
help at the following location.” There was a burst of coordinates.
“Tony was
attacked.”
“Attacked by what?” he asked, keeping his voice calm. Why wouldn’t Hot
Rod call
one of Tony’s associates?
“I don’t know. Ratchet, he’s… there’s some kind of metal on his skin
and it’s
growing!”
Ratchet was speechless. “Metal?”
“Yes. Ratchet, it has Allspark code on it.”
Ratchet froze for a full second, shock racing through his systems. “Hot
Rod,
repeat!” he ordered, voice firm. “Did you say Allspark code?”
“Yes. Something happened, Ratchet, and I think it’s connected to the
Extremis
project Tony has been working on. I need help immediately!”
“Understood. Keep him safe.”
Ratchet severed the connection and called up the fastest way he could
think of:
a flight from Nellis. Captain Bowman answered him on the second ring.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hot Rod had never felt so relieved than the moment he saw the Airforce
helicopter land on the parking lot. Police had cordoned off the area,
probably
completely unaware of what was really going on.
“Well, shit!” he breathed, then he gathered his wits. “Let’s get him
aboard.
Hot Rod, you need to drive back. We can’t airlift you.”
The R8 transformed. “On my way!” And he shot away.
Hot Rod kept his com lines open, getting updates on the position of the
helicopter and any changes in Tony’s condition. Part of him reminded
him that
the probable cause was Dr. Hansen, but he couldn’t care less. Tony was
his to
guard and he had failed.
Still, he accessed the closest satellite and cast out an electronic net
to
alert him should the name of Dr. Maya Hansen appear somewhere.
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Optimus Prime was already waiting for the arrival of the helicopter, as
were
six of Epps’ men, and Epps himself. Ironhide stood at his side,
twitchy, tense,
expecting the worst. His guns were charged and he was ready to act
should
anything happen. He had come back from Nellis the moment Bowman and
“Will?” Prime asked softly.
“I have no idea, Optimus. None at all,” the Ex-Army Ranger replied
tightly.
“Hot Rod is on the way and I bet he’s breaking every speed record. He
has no
idea what happened, but a lot of theories.”
Prime looked at his ally and friend, noting the tightness to the
human’s
features and the way he was rubbing over the permanent band of glyphs
around
his wrist.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just… freaked. You should’ve seen the runes. I don’t know what
they’re
reacting to, but they did. Still are.”
He pushed back a long sleeve and showed Prime a rather tight assortment
of
ancient code, all indecipherable to him.
“Do you hurt?”
“No. I’m okay. It’s just… weird.” Will pushed down the sleeve again.
“I’ll see
what Ratchet finds out. I think he’ll also want to know about my
reaction to
this thing.”
Prime nodded. He followed the human, scanning Will briefly for any
signs of
trouble, but all he got was a tight smile from the man. He had felt it.
Of
course he felt it, he reminded himself. It was well-known how receptive
the
hybrid had become.
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Ratchet had run all kinds of scans and he had come up with… nothing.
None of
his instruments could penetrate the metal cocoon that, according to Hot
Rod,
contained Tony Stark. That it was the exact same dull bronze and burned
gold
color as the Allspark didn’t help settle the ill feeling the medic had.
That
there were runes apparently carved into the metal added another level
of fear.
Will stood to one side of the examination table, brows drawn over
unreadable
brown eyes. The runes on his skin were reacting quite vividly to the
presence
of the cocoon and whatever it was that had turned Stark into… this… it
was
Cybertronian. At least in part.
Hot Rod was off to one side, blue optics alight with fear and worry,
and he
hadn’t left the lab for a single moment. Ratchet had been able to ban
everyone
but the guardian of Tony Stark. He understood Hot Rod’s worry. This had
happened while he had been just been around the corner.
“Do you have access to these Extremis files Tony was working on?”
Ratchet now
asked.
“No, but Jarvis has, and I think I can convince him to let me copy
them,” the
younger mech replied.
“Do it. Whatever this is, it isn’t just Cybertronian.”
Will reached out and suddenly touched the metal shell before Ratchet
could stop
him. He withdrew his hand with a hiss.
“Will?”
“Nothing. It’s… just not a good feeling. Like being zapped and frozen
at the
same time,”
He held up his hand where runes had pooled together, forming tight
knots of
writing, twisting and wriggling, diving back into the skin and
reappearing
somewhere else. None of the coding was ancient Cybertronian or anything
else
Ratchet could read. All of it was cosmic code.
It unsettled him even more.
“Interesting,” Ratchet commented, scanning again, this time Will.
The hybrid winced and the runes flared, then his skin reverted back to
normal
human coloring.
“Damn, that’s uncomfortable, Ratchet.”
“I apologize. But the scans, while not penetrating, show me that what
happens
with you as a result of the Allspark shard, happened to Tony Stark. I
just
don’t know why yet.” He turned to the other mech present. “Hot Rod, I
need
those files,” he repeated.
Hot Rod nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
He left the lab, though rather unwillingly. Once outside he used a
private line
to reach Jarvis to request the files. He would have to call Pepper, too.
Sighing softly to himself, Hot Rod waited for Jarvis to answer his
call.
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Pepper didn’t know how she made it through the call without losing it.
Without
laughing hysterically or crying or screaming or even losing the ability
of
rational thought.
Tony had been attacked by a crazy woman. He had been injected with
Extremis. He
was now in a cocoon of metal of some kind.
No one knew what was going to happen.
Ratchet was running simulations on the files he had recovered from
Stark Labs.
Pepper felt herself starting to shake.
I need to clear his schedule. I need to make arrangements. Have to
call
Keller. Rhodey has to know.
Keller would cover them. She felt a wave of relief at the presence of
the
former SecDef. It was one less worry and he could represent Tony if
anything
important came up.
“Jarvis?” she spoke up, her voice unnaturally calm.
“Yes, Ms. Potts?”
She hesitated. Then, “Did Hot Rod inform you of the latest events?”
“Yes. I’m very much aware of Mr. Stark’s condition. I supplied Ratchet
with the
required files.”
“Good. Anything in the lab that needs attention?”
“No. I have locked down everything of importance.”
“Good.”
Pepper stood in the middle of the living room, unable to decide what to
do
next.
“May I suggest a cup of tea?” Jarvis offered.
She smiled dimly. It was something that had first happened when Tony
had been
abducted in
Pepper had thanked Jarvis, the AI had replied, and the ‘tea ceremony’
had
begun.
Now she walked over to the kitchen where the hot water was ready. Her
hands
trembled as she poured herself a cup.
“Shall I inform Mr. Rhodes?” Jarvis asked.
“Yes. Let him know we have a… situation. I’ll talk to him then.”
“Very well, Ms. Potts.”
“Thanks, Jarvis.”
She had a few minutes to settle her nerves until she had to tell Rhodey
what
had happened – and what had happened anyway? She had no real idea. The
Autobots
had no idea.
This was worse than a ‘mundane’ kidnapping. This was alien and weird
and…
something that could only happen to Tony Stark.
Pepper laughed a little, sounding desperate. Her cell phone rang and
she
flinched.
“Mr. Rhodes wants to talk to you,” Jarvis informed her.
Pepper picked up her Blackberry and collected herself. “Hello, Rhodey…”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
When Banachek had approached him with the offer to take over as
chairman of the
board of Stark Industries, John Keller had been surprised. He knew SI
and about
the involvement of Howard Stark when the Manhattan Project had first
been put
into motion. Stark senior had always been a major developer for the
As it was, it had taken a lot more to make him aware of what was going
on
behind the backs of the people and the government. Now he was part of
that
secrecy.
When he had retired from his post as Secretary of Defense, Keller had
known it
wouldn’t be a quiet life tending to his garden or playing Canaster.
Still, he
hadn’t imagined he’d be heading up the board of directors at Stark
Industries.
Of course he knew who Tony Stark was. Of course he had known about
Now Stark had gotten himself into a very tight spot and it was up to
Keller to
cover the man’s back. He had help in form of Pepper Potts, Stark’s
personal
assistant, who had a lot of routine in that kind of work. She had
worked for
the man long enough.
Looking at the schedule Pepper had already rearranged, Keller nodded to
himself.
He could do this. He had done the same while working for the
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“Nothing can penetrate the shell,” Ratchet said, looking at the
assembled
Autobot team. “It’s very much like trying to scan the Allspark. No one
ever
managed that either.” Ratchet looked at
“Tony was never touched by the Allspark,” Optimus stated.
“No, but he had access to Sector Seven’s files and he experimented with
what he
called P-Cells. They are derived from our own systems’ abilities to
repair
superficial damage.”
“And he looks like an Allspark egg why?” Ironhide wanted to know.
“I have no idea. It could be the work of the Extremis, coupled with the
P-Cells.”
“The P-Cells were for the suit,” Hot Rod argued. “He doesn’t have them
in him.”
“How do you know?” the medic challenged.
“Uh, I don’t… but Tony wanted the suit to be able to repair superficial
damage…
he wouldn’t just inject the cells into himself. It makes no sense!”
“All I have are theories,” Ratchet told them. “I don’t know enough
about what
is happening inside the shell. Maybe Extremis sees the P-Cells as
important
enough to be replicated inside Tony. Maybe it’s what needs to be done
to make
him compatible with the armor. Maybe they got into his blood and
Extremis sees
them as part of the human body.”
“We’re clueless,” Ironhide summed it all up. “We sit and wait and see
what
happens.”
Ratchet nodded, looking extremely unhappy.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
One of the many things that had changed for Will was that he needed
less sleep
than the normal human being. Three to four hours were long and he still
felt
incredibly rested. Ironhide had mused about recharge and
“Hybrid,” had been Ironhide’s correction.
Whatever.
Tonight – this morning – hadn’t been different. Had he still been
completely
human he would have blamed the freaky events around Tony Stark. As it
was, he
was freaked out, especially about his reaction to the metal that so
eerily looked
like the Allspark. Naturally, sleep hadn’t really come.
Since two hours of rest were apparently all his body had needed
tonight, Will
had silently crept outside again and enjoyed the silence. He walked his
usual
route that took him to a rock formation not far away. He started to jog
halfway
to the rocks, feeling his body unwind from the tension that had been
inside him
ever since he had first seen the cocoon.
Will stopped at the closest boulder, hopping on. He pulled up his legs
and
pushed his long sleeves back. The runes were barely there. He traced
one as it
dove back into his skin. Will wondered why he had reacted to the metal.
It
wasn’t like it – or he – was the Allspark reborn. He traced the
permanent glyph
chain around his wrist.
Something prickled down his neck and he tensed a little as he searched
the dawn
for whatever his senses had picked up. More runes moved lazily across
his skin.
Then he saw the dark, humanoid form walking across the desert and he
almost
groaned.
“What are you doing here?” he sighed instead.
Ironhide’s holographic projection, something he used so sparingly it
always
surprised the hell out of Will if he did, sat down next to him on the
boulder.
The mech hadn’t really put much effort into it. Not that he needed to.
It was
night, they were alone, and the projection could disappear in the blink
of an
eye.
“Ratchet called me.”
“What for?”
Silence.
“’hide…”
Blue eyes, unnatural and alien, in a humanoid face that lacked any true
features, regarded him.
Instead of an answer, Ironhide traced the runes on Will’s arms, watched
them
dance around his finger tips.
“He told me how strongly you reacted to the cocoon. When I couldn’t
find you on
the base grounds, I thought you might be here.”
Will suppressed a sigh. “I’m predictable.”
“No. You’re tense.” The holographic fingers curled around his wrist and
the
runes seemed to frolic around the contact.
“Yeah, well, maybe a little.”
“What did you feel?”
“Like a little jolt. No whispers, no strange vibrations, just a jolt.
My skin
changed and the runes were agitated.” Will looked at the hand covering
his
wrist. The touch felt good. “You don’t have to do this, Ironhide.”
“You don’t like it?”
“That’s not the point…”
The runes had almost disappeared and he felt a lot less upset. The
hologram
wavered a little, the touch becoming less cohesive, and then it
disappeared.
Instead Ironhide’s real form, the robotic one, loomed over his partner.
Will
looked up into the dark face, almost obscured in the dim light. Blue
optics met
his gaze. Ironhide knelt down and reached out. He drew a finger over
the
exposed skin.
“You know you can come to me, Will,” he said softly. “About these
things. I’m
not freaked out.”
“But I was… still am. I’m not sure I would have made much sense. “
“Sometimes company is all the comfort you need.”
“You think you can go back? Face this?”
“I have to. Because I want to know what the hell is happening.”
Ironhide smirked. Then he transformed and opened a door. It was an
offer; Will
took it.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Ratchet had studied the files Jarvis had transferred to the Autobot
base
computer and he was stunned to see what this human had done. Tony Stark
had an understanding
of Cybertronian technology that was only eclipsed by Sam’s. He had
combined
research from Sector Seven, his own ideas and what Dr. Hansen’s
Extremis was
capable of. It had all been meshed together into something incredible.
Something even Ratchet didn’t understand completely so far.
The Autobot medic looked at the data he had from the cocoon. There was
terribly
little. Ratchet had scanners aimed at the cocoon, but they picked up
next to
nothing. It was incredibly well shielded.
“Anything new?” Optimus asked as he joined his old friend.
“No. This wasn’t ready, Prime. Stark was injected with an experimental
prototype that was never tested. Nothing what happened could have been
predicted.”
“You think he survived?” Prime asked softly. “That there is life in
this
cocoon?”
“I hope so,” Ratchet answered, voice even, betraying nothing. “No
scanner can
tell what’s happening inside.”
The Autobot leader nodded once. “Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
With that Prime left again and Ratchet was alone once more. He wondered
briefly
how long it would take until they saw any kind of change, then pushed
that
thought aside. However long it took, the only hope was that Tony Stark
survived
this.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hot Rod sat with his back against the wall, legs pulled up, arms
resting on his
knees, and watched the cocoon. He felt responsible for what had
happened to
Tony. He was his guardian and he had not managed to keep him safe from
the very
woman Tony had hired to help him develop the Extremis. Now the virus
was inside
him and they had no idea what it was doing to him inside the cocoon.
There was a crackling sound. Hot Rod’s optics narrowed.
Another crackling, then fine lines appeared on the surface of the
cocoon.
Hot Rod jumped up, immediately sending alerts to Ratchet and Optimus
Prime.
He watched in amazement and not just a little horror as the cocoon
started to
break open. Bluish light appeared in the cracks which grew ever-faster
and ever
more numerous over the uneven surface. Runes faded into nothingness and
then…
the metal melted.
It melted into the human figure now slowly revealed.
Hot Rod gaped. He heard Ratchet arrive, he heard the medic curse, but
all he
could do was watch the transformation. Tony’s form was more and more
visible.
The metal was like a liquid life form, sinking into Tony’s very human
and very
naked form. Hot Rod briefly wondered where his clothes had ended up,
but that
thought disappeared when Tony abruptly sat up, gasping. Eyes wide open,
he bent
over, coughing, then he groaned.
“Tony?”
He knelt down, carefully reaching out but not touching.
Brown eyes, slightly glassy, met his optics.
-- Hot Rod? --
The mech froze. “W-what?”
“What happened?” Tony rasped.
Before Hot Rod could answer, Stark’s eyes widened.
“Hansen,” he whispered.
“We don’t know what happened to you, Tony,” Ratchet could be heard.
“Can you
remember anything?”
“She… she stole the Extremis. She injected me with a batch.”
Tony touched his stomach, rubbing over smooth, unmarked flesh. He
stared at the
spot where Maya Hansen had most likely shot him, looking briefly
confused, then
he frowned.
“I was injected with Extremis.”
“And you survived,” Ratchet rumbled. “From what I read in the files,
it’s a
miracle.”
Tony rubbed a hand over his face, then stopped and touched his chest.
The arc
reactor.
“Still there,” he murmured.
Yes. But different. Hot Rod couldn’t put his finger on it, but it
looked very
different from the last time he had seen it.
“Weird,” Tony muttered, brushing quizzical fingers over the device that
allowed
him to survive.
Suddenly his other hand touched the reactor casing as well, fingering
along the
edges, and he laughed. It sounded almost hysterical.
“God!”
“Tony?”
-- It’s still there, Roddy. It’s still there! – “Extremis is supposed
to
rewrite the human body, take the perfect blueprint from my brain and
alter it
according to its orders. But the reactor is still there.”
Hot Rod stared at his friend. It was so weird, as if he heard some of
the words
directly in his processor while others used his audios as a medium.
“But it changed it nevertheless,” Tony went on. “It’s… look at it! It’s
sunk
deeper into my chest, molded itself into the perfect shape! There are
no more
lumpy edges. It’s simply part of my chest now.”
He laughed again, sounding desperate.
“Tony?” Ratchet came closer. “What other changes do you feel?”
“Nothing. I feel okay. Great, actually, perfect!”
“All my readings come up perfect, too.” There was an ominous ring to
Ratchet’s
voice.
“Ratchet?” Hot Rod asked.
“Everything’s perfect, Hot Rod. Everything. He’s perfectly healthy. He
has all
new perfect organs and body. Perfect, inside and out.” Ratchet sounded
stunned.
-- Aside from the reactor --
Hot Rod’s head whipped around again. “What in the name of Cybertron…?!”
Tony blinked at him. Then his eyes widened and the smile on his lips
was a
little less desperate and insane.
“You heard that?”
“Yes. How…?”
-- Extremis. I told you I wanted it reprogrammed to my specifications,
right? I
wanted it as an interface between me and the armor. It’s an interface
now. Just
not for solely the armor --
“Great Cybertron,” Hot Rod whispered.
“Cool, huh?”
“You’re taking this well.”
Tony grinned. “Hey, I knew what this was going to do one day. I just
didn’t
count on it being injected into me by some crazed scientist.”
Ratchet looked at them, optics narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
he now
asked.
“Tony… accessed my personal com frequency,” Hot Rod explained.
Blue optics flared. “How?”
“Extremis,” Tony chuckled. He looked around the lab. “And I can feel
the
machines in here. Not just you guys. You’re complicated and I don’t
understand
a word of data, but the rest…” -- Wow, there’s security cameras almost
everywhere! What do you do? Peep in on others? – “Extremis must have
rewired my
brain. I told it to do it because I wanted to be able to use the armor
more
effectively. It did more.” – People would pay for that peep show, Roddy—
--Don’t you dare!— Hot Rod exclaimed, a bit off-kilter by the way the
conversation jumped between vocal and something close to a private
channel.
“It was never finished,” Ratchet said.
“Yeah. What Maya injected me with was a prototype. Never tested,
unsafe, and
most likely fatal. I survived. And it worked! All of it worked!” –
Don’t you
think Ironhide went just a little overboard installing a camera in a
cupboard?!
--
Hot Rod ignored the running commentary, but his amusement leaked and
Tony
smirked at him.
Ratchet flipped a new device out of his lower arm. He scanned Tony and
hummed
to himself.
“Extremis was given instructions what to do,” Tony was still talking.
“But not
how to do it. The engineering part was easy, but the medical design was
never
finished. There were no limits. It just… it went with what it had, what
it
found.”
“And it found the arc reactor,” Ratchet commented. “Which is now fused
with
your body and very much part of the blueprint Extremis used.” He was
still
scanning, not looking happy. “I detect several billion nanotubes inside
your
body, Mr. Stark, as well as foreign matter that reminds me strongly of
protoform camouflage cells. The nanotubes are forming a fine mesh or
net
throughout your body, wired into your organs, most prominently your
brain.”
The lab’s main screen lit up and a three-dimensional human body
appeared in
blue outlines. Tony gazed at it, eyes alight, not the least bit shocked
or
frightened.
“Are you tapping into this?” Hot Rod asked softly.
Tony chuckled. “No. It’s always there, running in the back of my head.
It’s
like being wi-fi’d into it all. I’m part of these computers and it’s…
the most
amazing thing I ever witnessed.”
Ratchet had another scanner in hand moments later. “No pain? No
overwhelming
signals?” he asked sharply. “Nausea?”
“None. I’m really okay. Perfectly fine for someone who was supposed to
be
murdered.” Stark shrugged. “If you could get me some clothes, I’d even
be
decent.” His grin widened.
“You’re logged in constantly,” Hot Rod echoed, not even making it a
question.
“Yep. Now, about those clothes..?”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
--This is stupid, you know. What does Prime think he can accomplish?--
Hot Rod watched his friend with amusement in his blue optics. – It’s a
matter
of security. Yours and ours.--
-- Roddy, I can access cell phones, satellites, computers… your
security
cameras. I can tell you what’s going on in the main hangar if I want
to.
Keeping me here… ? Stupid. –
The silver mech shrugged. Their new way of communicating was…
interesting. He
found Tony very much at ease with his abilities. Of course he was, Tony
had
told him. His brain had been rebuilt to handle this. He had known what
to
expect. He just hadn’t expected it to come about like this. Using the
Extremis
was like walking and breathing. He could do it easily, without even
thinking
about it. It was what made him different from Sam, who had had to learn
quite a
bit and had suffered through quite some backlash.
The door to the examination room, Ratchet’s med lab, opened and Tony
almost
laughed as Sam walked in.
“My new guard dog?” he joked.
“Actually, I wanted to see how you are,” the younger man answered,
frowning a
little. “But if you want me to leave…”
Tony shook his head, gesturing at the, for a human, huge table he sat
on, fully
clothed and with a thermos of coffee. Essential food, so to speak.
“C’mon up. It’s nice.”
Hot Rod lifted the technopath up and Sam nodded a thanks.
--You can stay, you know -- Tony sent as Hot Rod made to leave.
-- I’ll see if I can talk to Prime – the R8 replied, smiling briefly.
-- Oh… yeah… thanks –
Tony looked at Sam, who was frowning, as if trying to think of
something he had
just missed.
“You can feel it, hm?”
“I can feel something. It’s like Bumblebee accessing a system.”
Tony’s brows rose. He still had to get a better idea about what was
going on
between Sam and Bumblebee, and while he had a very dirty mind and was
open for
lot of things, he had never considered a relationship between a mech
and a
human. Then again, Sam could access Bumblebee’s mind… like he could now
link up
to everyone else, too.
He almost laughed out loud. Damn. That would make for some pretty cool
sex…
“Ratchet gave me the files on the Extremis project. I’m not really good
with
the bio-tech side, the medical components, but the engineering is… wow.”
“My thoughts exactly when I first read over Dr. Hansen’s notes.” Tony
felt the
same excitement ripple through him as the day he had first read it.
“Would you have actually injected yourself?”
He silently studied the serious expression of the technopath sitting
across
from him.
“I wanted it for the armor. I thought I might be able to create an
interface
that linked me and the armor…”
“You would have injected yourself,” Sam stated, frowning.
Tony shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Definitely. You’re the kind of man who would.”
“Know me so well?”
“I know what you did in the past and this would just fit.”
Stark chuckled. “Yeah. Maybe.” He poured himself a new mug of coffee
and
offered the thermos to Sam. “Extremis did everything it was supposed to
do…
just a little differently than I imagined,” he added.
Sam regarded him curiously, declining the coffee. “Because it was still
experimental?”
“Because Hansen never finished the final stages. She never tested it,
never ran
simulations. She decided to sell it off to a higher bidder.” He smiled
bitterly. “Sure she hoped I would die from the injection.”
“You didn’t.”
“No. Apparently not.” Tony’s smile grew even darker. “Extremis took
care of
that.”
“I know someone who’s quite good at training technopaths,” Sam remarked
casually.
Tony frowned. “I’m not a technopath, Sam. I had nanites rewiring my
brain and
my body.”
“Which gives you abilities like mine.”
“I can connect to satellites and computer systems… or mechs… not read
their
minds.”
“You’re not far from it. If Ironhide or the others choose to send
information,
you’d be able to pick it up.”
Tony shook his head. “You abilities are organic in nature. Mine are
techno-enhanced. I have those things floating around in my body by the
billion.
They’re… like a separate entity.” He frowned. “Now there’s a disturbing
thought.”
“They’re not sentient.”
“Huh?”
Sam smiled a little sheepishly. “I checked. I can feel them.”
Tony’s expression was suddenly stony. “You can access them?”
“Not that I tried… since they’re tiny and like a hive mind, like bees,
I guess.
And I wouldn’t!” he protested. “I never would, Tony!”
Stark was silent, then nodded sharply. It was clear that the idea that
Sam
could not only simply shut down the arc reactor – which thankfully no
longer
had the function to keep the shrapnel from his heart – but could also
control
millions of nanotubes inside him didn’t sit well with Tony. Sam
couldn’t
reassure him enough to disperse the last doubts. This was a matter of
blind
trust. Right now, Tony couldn’t trust the younger man not to flip and
simply
kill him.
What if someone took control of Sam? What if Sam lost it and thought
Tony was
an enemy?
Sure, the mechs had to trust in him, too. He was the ultimate weapon.
“Listen,” Sam interrupted his dark train of thought, “I don’t know
about how
you handle this, but I was trained in the use of my abilities. Maybe
you want
to ask for a few pointers, too?”
“Barricade?” Tony exclaimed. “I don’t think so!”
And he didn’t need this help. He knew exactly what he was capable of.
He knew
all there was about Extremis because he had specified the programming.
What it
did was what he had told it to do. A few more weeks and it might have
happened
a lot more smoothly.
A shrug. “Just a thought.”
“Hell, no. I don’t need training, Sam. It’s… think of it as uploading a
computer program to your hard drive. The program runs and the hard
drive
handles it. No hesitation, no questions.”
Sam looked intrigued and Tony grinned like a little boy.
“Cool, eh?”
XXX XXX XXX XXX
Sam let his technopathy rise and it was like touching a million tiny
cells of
electronic life, all with the same mind, a hive mind. He rationally
knew Tony
was human, but the technopath also detected the changes.
“How bad do I feel?” Tony joked, but there was an edge to his tone. The
same he
had had when Sam had first told him that he could offline the armor
with a few
well-placed technopathic blows.
“Not bad, just… different. It’s like… well, the hive analogy still
stands. It’s
a steady hum, all on the same frequency.”
Stark nodded, playing with the nearly empty coffee mug.
“Do you feel different?” Sam wanted to know. “Ratchet said you’re in
perfect
health.”
“I feel great, yeah. Like never before. No twinges, no pain, no
nothing. Aside
from this.” Tony rubbed his right hand over the covered arc reactor.
“This
stayed.”
“Because you need it for the armor.”
Tony’s brows shot up. Sam shrugged.
“Hey, I’m not stupid. I know what it did and does, aside from keeping
shrapnel
away from your heart.”
“That is gone. The shrapnel,” Tony added. Because the Extremis took
care of it.
“Got a healthy heart, new liver, everything, the whole deal.” He
smirked. “The
heart and liver are especially great deals.”
Sam grimaced. “You wanted the Extremis to work on the suit. You wanted
the
armor to be faster, to have a better reaction time. You never gave
specifications about a new power source, so the nanotubes see the arc
reactor
as the main power source.”
Tony grinned. “Yeah, you are good, and I never thought you were stupid,
Sam. I
didn’t think of the reactor, actually. When I worked with the P-Cells
and
Extremis, it never crossed my mind. Now it’s a done deal.”
He was still rubbing over the smooth fiberglass he felt through his
shirt and
finally dropped his hand. Extremis had modified the reactor to
integrate
better, but it hadn’t removed it.
“Say…” Tony suddenly said, a thought striking him. “If you can feel the
nanotubes… I’d like you to try and take them out.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “What?!” he exclaimed.
Hot Rod suddenly loomed over him. Tony had been aware of him coming
back into
the room. It was like he now knew the mechs by energy signature and he
wondered
how Sam recognized them. This warranted further discussions.
“No way!” Hot Rod decided.
“Hey, last time he took me out with a thought. The suit was fried. I
want to
know if Extremis is just as vulnerable.”
“Tony, you just woke up from some kind of crazy metal cocoon,” Sam
argued.
“All the better for me to test it now.”
“No one would attack you as a human. And if there’s electronics
involved, it’s
a sure bet I can eventually crack it,” the technopath added.
“I want to know.”
“No.”
“Sam…”
“No!”
“We could call it a controlled experiment.”
“There’s nothing ‘controlled’ about my abilities, Tony!”
Tony smirked. “You know what you’re doing, Sam. You took me down with
almost
surgical precision. This is nothing else.”
“It’s too risky!” Hot Rod argued.
“I need to know how vulnerable Extremis is.”
“Then put on the armor and make it a real fight!” Sam snapped back.
Tony tilted his head, smiling. “Okay. Let’s do that.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Colonel James Rhodes felt torn between slugging his friend and hugging
the
stuffing out of him. The first option would only serve to calm his
frazzled nerves
for the moment, the second would probably end with Tony getting one
into the
face anyway, so he settled for reading him the riot act.
Tony stood there, with an amused expression, almost laughing. He wanted
to
strangle him.
Jerk! Idiot! Arrogant prick!
“I’m glad I’m alive, too, Rhodey,” he finally interrupted the tirade.
“Arrogant bastard!” he now snarled.
“Hey, the plan wasn't that she tried to kill me.”
“Right! The plan was for her to develop some kind of super tech virus
to inject
yourself with?”
“In a way.”
“You’re such a bastard!”
“And you’re repeating yourself. Did you bring the armor?”
“That’s all you can think about? Pepper and I were worried sick! We
didn’t know
whether you’d come out of this in one piece!”
“I’m fine,” Tony said calmly.
“As fine as you were after you nearly died the first time?”
Stark smiled, though the smile wavered for a moment. Rhodey hated to
remind him
of those nightmares. Even now, after almost three years, it was still
something
that gave him the willies, remembering how he had found his friend, had
looked
at the crude implant in Stark’s chest, and had known something terrible
had
happened. The events haunted Tony even now, but he had come out of it
literally
a new man.
“Even better. Now, the armor, please?”
The fucking armor! Again! Rhodey admired Tony’s genius, his inventions,
the way
he could come up with something as nifty as a miniaturized arc reactor
in a
cave in the desert and have it work. The man was a genius and knew it.
His
brain was impossible to match. But his personality was something else.
While
Tony had changed his ways a little – he no longer drank himself into a
near-coma, his womanizing days were apparently over and he had stopped
being
such an arrogant idiot most of the time – there were days when Rhodey
wondered
if Tony Stark was really all that sane.
After what had happened now… not so much.
Genius and insanity lay closely together, he knew. And Tony Stark had
always
walked a fine line.
XXX XXX XXX XXX
Tony smiled at his friend, aware that Rhodey was close to slugging him.
Actually, if it made him feel better…
He didn’t really have to ask about the suit. He felt the presence of
the armor
in the small crate that some of the soldiers had already unloaded from
Rhodey’s
car. It was a familiar feeling, like an old friend, and his brain
immediately
logged on to it. This was needed. This was him. Not just part of him
any more,
he was
Rhodey gave him a venomous look and flipped open the latches. Tony knew
he had
to make it up to him. More than just dinner and drinks. He owed a lot
to this
man.
The armor had been piled inside the box, probably by Jarvis, and it
looked
rather good.
Goddamn, it looked perfect! So fucking perfect! He touched it with the
Extremis
and it was like a void being filled. Nothing had ever been like this.
And now to make it all the better…
“Start,” Tony only said, his voice betraying nothing of the emotions
boiling up
inside him.
“Holy shit!” Rhodey exclaimed and stepped back.
Ratchet was scanning already, optics bright, and he muttered something
in
Cybertronian.
Tony almost laughed in joy as he watched his skin turn the color of his
usual
undergarment, a deep black. But this time it looked more polished, more
like
metal… and there were tiny reddish orange, crystal-like insertions
visible in
the forearms, torso and legs. They had been formed first and from them
the
blackness spread. The clothes were absorbed, as if their material was
needed to
form Tony’s new outfit. Even his face was covered by the metal
substance.
He didn’t feel constrained. He didn’t feel like he was suffocating. His
eyes
were still the same, he could see perfectly, he could breathe, had his
hearing,
and he smelled the faint metal tang. He licked over his lips, which
felt smooth
and alien. It didn’t freak him out; it was just another step.
“Shit, Tony, can you still breathe?” Rhodey asked.
“Perfectly. This is fantastic,” Stark answered, fascinated.
He wondered what he looked like. He could only see a part of his body.
The red,
polished ovals, like gems, poked out of the blackness. Part of him.
Generated
by the Extremis together with the P-Cells. He knew what they were.
Fluid/metal
interface units. Every protoform mech had them.
“This is a perfect replica of a protoform skin,” the Autobot medic
could be
heard. “It’s not unlike Will’s transformation, without the size
changes. I can
still detect human flesh and bones underneath.”
Tony felt the armor, like a part of himself, a hand, an arm, a leg. He
felt it
so close that he simply reached out. And it came to him. It was as if
Jarvis
was attaching each of the metal parts to him, a perfect fit, and each
part
logging onto him was like a next step to completion. Like a
Cybertronian
shifting into a new exostructure, Tony acquired his own new ‘shape’. He
couldn’t form the armor from the P-Cells. He didn’t have the
ultra-dense mass
of a Cybertronian.
A wild thought crossed his mind and he almost grinned wickedly. Not
yet, he
hadn’t. There was always room for improvement.
Rhodey gaped. He truly gaped. Tony couldn’t fault him for it. He had
seen a lot
of freaky shit, but this was probably the weirdest ever.
He was
Tony laughed, completely happy for the first time in his life. It was
such an
incredible, indescribable feeling! Like coming home, like being whole…
The armor powered up, using the arc reactor just as he was used to. The
interface proves had been different, but the underarmor took care of it
all.
The feel of it was… beautiful. Just perfect. It was everything he had
ever
dreamed it should be. Smooth and powerful, filling with the energy the
arc
reactor provided. He reveled in the feeling, caressing the armor’s
‘presence’
and feeling the echoes of his touches.
Wow…
His mind accessed whatever Tony wanted it to. It felt strange to be
right in
the middle of a machine, but like with a HUD he looked at all the
functions and
he could reach out and with thoughts like keystrokes he hacked what he
wanted.
And then something intervened, had the systems stutter. He felt his own
counter-measures, felt the Extremis rebuild circuits and change coding.
Tony
turned, the HUD display flashing warnings at him, and he looked at Sam,
whose
eyes had an intense expression.
“So much for saying ‘no’,” he remarked casually.
“You asked for it,” the technopath replied.
The flight system crashed, then rebooted, then the weapons control
faltered.
Tony actually felt the Extremis struggle with the attack on his body.
But like
everything else, it was electronic. It was something Sam could attack
again and
again. A vicious blow had him hiss in annoyance and a faint headache
pulsed
behind his forehead. The repulsors died down and there was a harsh
warning
light about the reactor energy level dropping below eighty.
Shit!
Suddenly it all stopped.
Tony drew a sharp breath. Adrenaline coursed through him and he felt
Extremis
work.
“Enough?” Sam asked, brows raised, face almost neutral.
“I guess,” he answered, feeling a bit dizzy.
Damn. He was still vulnerable.
And Sam looked like he hadn’t even broken a sweat.
“What in the name of… What’s going on here, Tony?” Rhodey demanded.
“An upgrade,” Tony replied casually, smiling behind the face shield.
“One hell
of an upgrade.”
“I can see that!”
“I’ll tell you all about it, but right now there’s someone we have to
find. Dr.
Maya Hansen. She has what’s left of the Extremis prototype and she has
sold
herself to Fujikawa. It’s property of Stark Industries; mine. I want it
back.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Optimus
Prime knew that there was no stopping Tony Stark, unless he resorted to
violence. The man was determined and he was more stubborn than was
healthy for
him. With his new abilities he also had an advantage over other humans,
even
Sam. Where Sam had to consciously log into a satellite system, Tony was
already
connected. He only had to change directions, access what was in the
background,
and collect the data. Extremis handled the download, the buffering, and
the
storage of that information.
“I’m a walking wi-fi’d up computer,” Tony had joked.
And he was.
In a way he was a mix of Sam’s technopathy with Will’s metamorphic
abilities.
Ratchet was still puzzling over how the man could create a skin of
near-protoform consistency. He theorized that some of the P-Cells had
ended up
in Tony’s body. Stark had mentioned that he had hurt himself early in
the
development. Even a small amount of the normally harmless P-Cells would
have
been enough. The Extremis had incorporated what it felt was needed and
already
there.
They couldn’t keep him here. They couldn’t foretell what would happen.
Ratchet
was unable to even predict further complications or changes, just like
it had
been the case with first Sam and then Will. They had turned out okay,
but
Tony’s changes had involved a human-made, untested nanotube virus.
They had found the location of Maya Hansen. Satellite surveillance was
their
advantage. Optimus knew how easy it was to hack into the system of the
satellites because he and the others had done it frequently. It was how
they
had learned about humans and the different cultures. Now Tony did it
with such
ease, as if he had never done anything else, too. Extremis had rewired
him,
rebuilt him, changed whatever needed to be changed to accommodate the
metamorphosis.
“She’s mine,” Stark now said, drawing the Autobot leader out of his
thoughts.
“I can’t stand by and let you kill her.”
It got Prime a dark smile. “I never said anything about killing her.”
Optimus looked at the smaller human, dressed already in his armor,
helmet
dangling from one hand. There was a hard, determined expression on the
narrow
features.
“She hasn’t sold Extremis yet. She stayed hidden. All we have to do is
arrest
her.”
“If she comes without a fight.” Tony rubbed over his armored stomach in
an
unconscious gesture.
Maya Hansen had been located in a small town near the border of
But he had tracked someone else, someone by the name of Rumiko
Fujikawa, who
had landed at
“We can handle it, Tony,” Optimus repeated what he had said already.
“Not without me. She betrayed me. She tried to kill me.
This is my
problem.”
“It is our problem.”
Tony glared at the so much larger Autobot leader. “How do you want to
stop me?
Shoot me down?”
“No. I can only offer to help you, if you let us.”
Tony snorted. “I can deal with it.”
But he knew Prime would send one or more of his people along. He
couldn’t stop
the mech from doing so.
“So who’s the volunteer?” he asked coolly.
There was a smile on Prime’s face. “Will has offered to come along
since he has
the most combat training of the civilians on the base. Colonel Rhodes
insisted
to be there, too.”
Tony sighed. “Should have known. All right. I guess Ironhide will be
there,
too?”
Prime smiled. “You guessed correctly.”
Tony knew he was missing something when it came to Lennox and Ironhide,
and he
planned on finding out about what was going on so subtly that he hadn’t
caught
on to it yet, but right now he had a traitor to catch.
“Then I’ll be off,” he simply said and left the office.
Optimus contacted Ironhide and Lennox, who had already picked up
Knowing Stark, it was a fervent hope.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sam had watched Tony leave from outside the hangar. He had left the man
to
argue with Prime and sought out the relative peace and quiet of the
desert.
There was a tight sensation in his stomach.
::Sam?::
He scrubbed a hand over his face. ::I’m okay::
::You’re not:: Bumblebee argued.
The mech approached him and knelt down. He reached out and touched his
partner,
the cool metal a pleasant counterpart to how hot his skin felt. It was
the
weather, he knew, but the attack on Tony had rattled Sam more than he
wanted
anyone to know.
He wasn’t a weapon!
::He wanted you to do it::
::No reason to do it::
Bumblebee’s hand now cupped his back and Sam leaned against the
support. Sometimes
he needed the more physical reassurance.
::I don’t like attacking things, Bee. It makes me feel…:: He stopped,
then
gnashed his teeth. “I’m not a weapon,” he whispered fiercely.
Bumblebee’s thumb rubbed over his tense back. ::You’re not::
Sam sighed and closed his eyes. The use of technopathy had had little
repercussions this time. There was hardly a headache. Still, something
inside
of him cringed at the fact that he could kill with this.
::You’re no killer:: Bumblebee reassured him. ::We all trust you, Sam::
“Yeah,” he said out loud.
He pushed out of the safe cocoon of Bumblebee’s hand and walked back
into the
base again. Tony had technopathic abilities now, too. He could actually
infiltrate with the help of a nanovirus, with no apparent drawbacks,
and he
could, if he wanted to, use it as a weapon. Sam was no weapon, had
never wanted
to be one, despite what Barricade said.
Bumblebee followed him, a steady presence in his mind, a support he
really
needed right now.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tony had had some time to think about what he would do, what he might
say when
he looked into Maya Hansen’s face. He had flown fast, but he hadn’t
broken the
sound barrier. He needed time to think. Part of him was busy rooting
through
computer uplinks and enjoying the steady flow of data streams. Extremis
was
everything he had hoped it would be and more. The moment he could
adjust the
armor to the new situation, Iron Man would be someone completely new.
Nothing about this really scared him. Maybe he should be having a
nervous
breakdown about being a walking computer. Maybe he should feel
depressed that
he still had the arc reactor. Yeah, well, that sucked, but it was
necessary. It
powered the armor and the P-Cells. It was necessary.
No, this wasn’t scary. He didn’t feel like a freak. There were people
with much
bigger problems than his out there. He had upgraded himself, he had
become
faster and stronger. If Extremis worked like Maya had intended it to,
Tony
would also be immune to viral infections or cellular mutations, like
cancer.
What remained to be seen was what else his cells would now be immune
to.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hansen had found refuge in a run-down motel that had seen better days.
Most of
the rooms were no longer occupied and the dingy main building didn’t
inspire
much confidence. The motel lived off those who had not much money or
needed an
anonymous room for the night. Hansen had gotten money at a machine
eighty miles
ago, had bought supplies and then paid for the room in cash.
Tony knew all that because of the satellites. He knew where the car had
been,
where Hansen had gone, and if he used Stark Industries’ own satellites,
he
could even count the money, tell the ingredients of the cheap burrito
and see
the fine lines of sleepless nights on Maya’s face.
Checking on Ironhide and Will’s progress he found them not too far
behind him.
He was impressed by the Autobot’s speed. That he had simulated police
lights in
his front grill helped push cars out of the way and kept them from
being
stopped for speeding. Stark would still be there first.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“I could kill him for that stunt!”
Will smiled. He had his hands on Ironhide’s steering wheel, pretending
to drive.
“That’s a given with Tony.”
“You have no idea! The man is the most aggravating, arrogant and
idiotic human
being I ever had the displeasure of dealing with!”
“And he’s your friend.”
“He must have at least some redeeming qualities.”
“He’s stinking rich and he knows his way around an engine. He’s a
fucking
genius and he knows it!” He sighed and shook his head. “When you get to
know
him, he’s also a really good guy. Somewhere deep down inside. Well, not
so deep
inside any more. He changed after
“He probably did,” Will agreed.
“He most definitely did,” Ironhide rumbled.
The colonel was silent, then nodded jerkily. “Damned best day in my
life.”
“Tony is a remarkable man.”
Another nod.
“And what happened to him this time was an accident, Colonel. He
survived
something that should have killed him.”
“Like last time.”
“Maybe.”
Will chuckled. “He probably says the same about you.”
The other man grinned. “Yeah. But I don’t go flying around in some
personal
armor.”
“But you would if he ever offered you one.”
That got
“Maybe,” he finally said. “But I’m quite happy where I am now.”
“Ironhide? Anything on Stark?” Will asked.
“He’s about half an hour ahead of us.”
“Let’s hope he won’t do something stupid.”
Will had to agree.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
He landed around the back of the dusty place and scanned. There were
several
small life signs, which meant rats or cats, two humans in the main
building,
one sleeping in one of the motel rooms, and one not far from where he
was now.
From the satellite images he knew it was Maya Hansen because she had
parked her
car in front of the dingy place.
Tony walked over without hesitation, aimed the repulsors at the door
and fired.
Subtlety and ‘let’s talk about it’ had gone out of the window fast when
she had
pushed the injector into him.
Dust billowed around him as he stepped through the door. The room was
cheaply
furnished, the paint peeling off the walls, the bathroom a health
hazard, the
mattress a collection of unspeakable things. Maya had been sitting in
the
chair, which had toppled over, and she was just getting to her feet, a
gun in
her hand.
She stared at him as if she was seeing a ghost. Well, she was – a ghost
wearing
the armor of
“Miss me?” Tony asked lightly.
“How..?”
“How did I survive? Well, I’d call it luck, Maya. The Extremis you
injected me
with was an untested prototype, like all the other vials you have in
there.”
He nodded at the carrier.
“It could have killed me. It could have sent me into a coma. It could
have
disfigured me. What it did was exactly what I wanted it to.” He grinned
behind
the faceplate. “Not that your last stock will work on anyone else. I
was a
special case, you see.”
She shook her head, clutching the gun.
“You really think this will accomplish anything?” Stark went on
conversationally. “The armor is impenetrable for mere bullets.”
“I’m not going to jail!”
“It’s better than dead, Maya. Think about it.”
“You won’t kill me! You can’t! It would be murder.”
“An eye for an eye? Ring a bell?”
“You’re not a killer!”
He cocked his head. “I thought the same of you.”
“I didn’t want… I never planned…” Her white-knuckled grip didn’t ease.
“I
didn’t want this.”
“Oh please. Don’t tell me a sob story about a sick mother or a missing
child. I
checked your background. Both your parents are dead. You have no
siblings, you
never married, you have no kids. You did this for money, Maya, and
money
alone.”
She was chewing her lip, then suddenly raised the gun.
Tony was faster. His armored fingers clamped around her wrist, bone
creaking
underneath the grip, and the bullet went into the ground. He pushed his
faceplate
into her face.
“You lose, Dr. Hansen.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tony didn’t feel anything as he watched the arrest of Dr. Maya Hansen.
There
was no official police presence, just lots of cars and people in smart
looking
suits. Will stood off to one side, watching it all, leaning against
Ironhide.
Someone Tony thought he had seen at the Autobot base was pushing Hansen
into
the back of an unmarked car. The carrier full of Extremis vials had
been
secured. Tony would see to it that the contents were destroyed. He had
survived
the injection; the next person might die or go insane.
Stark smiled darkly behind the helmet’s cover. Maybe he was insane
already and
didn’t even know it. Everyone else apparently thought he was.
Rhodey had been there and he was currently talking to the plain-clothed
guys.
Now and then he glanced at Tony, but when Hansen was in the car, he got
in as
well. All Tony received was a nod. He nodded back.
Tony chuckled. “It’s only just begun, Will.”
The car with Maya in it pulled away. One of the plain-clothed men
walked over
to
“We’re done, sir,” the man said. “Where should we take the cargo?”
“I’ll take it,” Tony said before Will could answer. “It’s my
responsibility.”
“You want to ride back with us or fly?”
“Fly,” Tony said tonelessly.
He needed the time in the air. He needed to get his thoughts straight.
“Sure. Want us to take the Extremis stuff?”
“No need.”
He raised a gauntlet and fired up the repulsor. One controlled blast
was all it
needed and the carrier was dust; totally obliterated.
“Problem solved,” he said levelly, then fired the propulsion system and
took
off.
No one tried to stop him. He just accelerated and headed as high as he
could,
keeping out of the way of any planes or other airborne vehicles. His
mind cast
out toward the data streams all around him and it was actually more
relaxing
than anything he had ever felt. It was almost peaceful. Just data, no
emotions.
Nothing that was either good or evil. Data was neutral. It was what
people did
with it that made it evil – or good. Like Extremis. The nanotubes as
such were
neutral. They did what they were programmed to do. The person handling
them
decided what to do; it was the decision of a human being.
Like Tony Stark.
Tony knew he would have taken Extremis. If Maya had run successful
simulations,
he would have injected himself.
He smiled to himself. Was he good or evil? Evil, according to the
media. A
killer. A merchant of death. Even his change of course hadn’t quieted
the
voices. Weapons contracts had dwindled to only those associated with
the
Autobots, but the public didn’t know that. The public only saw him as a
weapons
monger. His past would always haunt him.
SHIELD had taken care of Tony’s declaration in front of the assembled
press
years before. He had ‘outed’ himself as Iron Man, but that had been
corrected
to Stark supplying the gear for the unknown man in the high tech suit.
Fury had
arranged for witnesses to claim to have seen Iron Man while Stark had
been
answering questions for the press. There had been visual proof of Stark
being
in
The media interest in Tony Stark as a new kind of superhero diminished.
While
Tony hated to play the game, he knew Fury had made the right decision.
He would
have killed himself and SI with this. It had been a heat of the moment
decision, riding on an adrenaline high, wanting the good press to
finally
annihilate all the rumors and lies.
For a moment he had felt incredible.
Now he was just the billionaire playboy again.
Tony adjusted his course, accelerating a little more before going up
into the
atmosphere. He flew through low-hanging clouds, felt them brush over
his armor
even though there was no sensor net in the suit, and he spread his arms
when he
broke through. It stopped his propulsion, kept him hovering in the
nothingness
of the stratosphere.
He exhaled sharply, tilted his head back and looked at the darkness
above him.
Space. He had been there already, but he would be there again. The
Whether he was good or evil.
Tony laughed.
Iron Man was good. He was a hero. Tony Stark was a man with a black
vest that
was only now taking on a few white spots.
One day he might even be able to look at himself in the mirror and
accept what
he saw.
He was so tempted to fly higher, to try orbit again. It was like a
secret
longing, a goal in life he had yet to achieve.
“Jarvis?”
“Yes, Sir?”
Tony chuckled. “Good to know you’re still here.”
“Where would I go?” the AI asked, sounding slightly sarcastic.
Tony smiled. “Download and store all data on the private server
assigned to
Maya Hansen at Stark Labs. Run a check on any entries made by her on
any of
Stark Industries’ servers. Then erase whatever she did. Delete her
presence
from the virtual world. Compress all data files on Extremis and put
them on my
private server, file them under XTR01. Password and securlog them.”
“May I remind you that you don’t need me for this, Sir?”
Tony raised his brows. “No?”
“Extremis renders me obsolete.”
“Nothing can ever render you obsolete, Jarvis,” he said softly. “I need
you.
Never doubt that.”
And when had the AI started to develop such thoughts… even emotions?
“Good to hear, Sir. I’ll get right on it.”
He smiled again.
“Thanks, Jarvis.”
“Anything for you, Sir.”
He smiled humorlessly. “I’ll be home soon.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Tony lowered himself back to flight level and headed toward LA. In the
back of
his mind the data streams were a reassuring hum.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Rumiko Fujikawa stood at the corner of the intersection and watched a
large
black truck pull up to the motel she was supposed to meet Dr. Maya
Hansen. Just
twenty minutes earlier someone else had entered the room. A man dressed
in a
full body armor, red and golden, and she had known she had lost.
Hansen had been made, the stupid bitch.
Rumiko had told her father it was a waste of time. Waiting had brought
this
upon them. If they had immediately made the deal, Extremis would be in
their
hands now. As it was, Hansen had had cold feet after she had attacked
and
probably killed Tony Stark. She had contacted them twice, first to tell
them
what had happened and that she would run, and then a day later to
change the
meeting point.
Now everything was lost.
She witnessed how Hansen was put into an unmarked car, then how the man
in the
armor blew apart the box that contained the Extremis prototype.
The pretty Japanese woman zipped the heavy leather combination closed
and
started the engine of her rented bike. She rolled down the street, then
accelerated. Only when she was away at a safe distance did she switch
on the
lights.
Tomorrow she would be back on her way to
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Pepper had the distinct feeling of a déjà vu as she waited for the
Airforce
transport plane to taxi into a parking position. When it had finally
stopped
and was lowering the cargo ramp, Pepper half expected to see a
wheelchair, Tony
sitting in it, Rhodey at his side. She expected an exhausted looking
man with
haunted eyes, signs of pain and injuries, being carefully accompanied
by Rhodey
to walk down the ramp.
As it was, Tony Stark looked like life itself. He was smiling broadly
at her,
almost bounced down the ramp, and it was such a contrast to the last
time she
had been here and waited for her boss’s return, she felt her eyes
starting to
sting. Clutching the computer pad, she locked her knees.
“Welcome home, Mr. Stark.”
Pepper was so proud that her voice didn’t waver. She caught people
moving a
well-known crate toward the Rolls where Happy was already waiting to
put it
into the trunk.
“Is it just me or are we having a déjà vu moment?” Tony asked, still
smiling.
He peered closely at her. “You were crying again.”
“Tears of joy,” she repeated the same words she had said years ago.
“I’m sure they are.”
Tony still looked at he and Pepper didn’t break the contact. His smile
softened.
“I’m fine.”
“Your condition didn’t sound fine.”
“It wasn’t,” Rhodey interrupted. He sounded definitely peeved.
Something had happened and Pepper was sure she would find out soon,
either
through Tony, Rhodey or even Hot Rod, who was just now rolling down the
ramp.
“How about we take this somewhere more pleasant? Have you had lunch
yet,
Pepper?”
“No.”
“You in the mood for a burger?”
Definitely déjà vu.
“What happened to you, Tony?” Pepper asked quietly.
His smile widened. “The best ever. C’mon, I’ll invite you to a super
saver
menu. We can talk then. Rhodey? Want in?”
“Thanks, Rhodey.” Tony’s expression was suddenly serious.
Tony smiled at Pepper. “Ready for our date?”
“A super saver menu in a burger place is not a date.”
“I’m paying.”
“Still no date.”
Tony made an inviting gesture toward the R8. “I’ll even spring for
dessert.”
Pepper smiled. “I’m not that cheap, Mr. Stark.”
“I never said so, Ms. Potts.”
She slid into the passenger seat and Tony closed the door. “Hello, Hot
Rod.”
“Hello Pepper,” came the pleasant reply.
Tony had walked around the front and now got in on the driver’s side,
grinning.
“Here we go!”
And they shot away from the airfield.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It had been inevitable for Tony that he had to talk to his new chairman
of the
board. John Keller hadn’t really pushed for an appointment; Pepper
hadn’t made
room for one either. Tony had walked into his office at
“Optimus Prime already briefed me on what happened,” Keller simply
said. “All I
need to know is whether this influences Stark Industries operations or
not.”
Tony poured himself a hideously expensive bourbon and raised his brows
questioning at Keller, who waved him off.
“It influences nothing, John,” Stark then replied. “I’m back.”
“That I noticed.”
“What happened was unfortunate and not planned.”
“I hope not, though you seem to have a tendency to find trouble.” A
fine smile
played around Keller’s lips.
Tony smirked. “Trouble finds me.”
He emptied half the glass while checking his email account through
Extremis. He
found it cluttered with mails. Without breaking the conversation he
pushed half
of them into the spam folder, sent a large batch of the remaining ones
to Pepper,
and left three or four interesting ones on his server. One was about…
“… the Holland-Taki contract,” Keller said. “Mr. Holland will be here
on time.
His secretary called.”
“Is Pepper handing off assistant duties to you now?”
Keller smiled. “No, but I believe two people reminding you of an
important
appointment might get you there in time.”
Tony emptied the glass, checking the time. Still an hour left until
then.
“Welcome to the club, John.”
Keller’s smile grew. “I doubt I qualify as a baby-sitter, Tony. Pepper,
Happy,
Jarvis and Hot Rod fill those shoes.”
Tony grimaced.
“I was just checking in. Let me know if anything… comes up. Prime
mentioned
your interest in the second Ghost-2 mission. Whatever you think
of as an
excuse for your absence, please let me know.”
“Well, I was thinking of something very mundane, like a vacation,” Tony
replied
off-handedly.
“As if the board would ever buy you going on vacation.”
“Hey, I did. Once. It was fun.”
“Until you came back three hours later, ripping your chief engineer a
new one
over the new VTOL engine. I heard that story, Tony. Your board was
very… open
about your behavior.”
“Great.” Tony shook his head. “But this time it will be a vacation. In
space.”
He grinned at the prospect. “Until then, day-to-day routine it is.”
“Whatever qualifies as routine in your book.” Keller walked toward the
door.
“Three o’clock, Tony. A minute late and I’ll find you and drag you
there
myself.”
“I never should have let Banachek bully me into this,” Stark muttered,
but his
eyes twinkled.
“You had no other choice. Given you other… hobbies… you need me.”
Only too true. Tony watched the former SecDef leave and leaned against
his
desk. He called up the contract for
Forty-five minutes to pass.
Well, there were always the new armor designs. Those would keep him
from
boredom for sure.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tony had reluctantly agreed to let Ratchet scan him. It was mostly out
of his
own curiosity. Jarvis hadn’t been able to deep-scan through the armor
and the
new undergarment. Tony would have to change the whole set-up, maybe
even copy
an Autobot scanner for that, so Ratchet was the quicker and easier
choice.
The medic had been very intrigued. He had had Tony go through the
process of
calling upon the P-Cells, then had poked and prodded the black-clad
human. He
had asked Tony to remove P-Cell skin from parts of his body, watching
how much
of a control the human had over the process. Then Tony had called the
armor and
the same had happened once more.
“I find it interesting that Extremis recognized the P-Cells, since they
are not
in the human blueprint your brain stores.”
“Extremis was never finished,” Tony reminded the Autobot.
“It might be the reason. The access you have to data streams keeps your
brain
at peak performance. I predict you might have problems in the future,
Mr.
Stark. The human brain wasn’t laid out for this.”
“Mine was altered.”
“It’s still organic.”
Tony shrugged. He would wait and see. “What problems?”
“Headaches after intense use. Possible hallucinations. Dreams you can’t
explain.”
“The usual then,” Tony interrupted, sounding casual.
“Don’t overdo it, Tony,” Ratchet told him sternly. “This is all new,
it’s still
basically a prototype and no one knows what might happen.”
XXX XXX
That was one reason why Tony wanted Sam to keep testing the Extremis.
“No!” the technopath ground out.
“Sam, this isn’t just for fun. I need to know how I can defend myself,”
Tony
told him firmly.
For once he was totally serious. No fun, no teasing, no sarcasm. He
needed
this.
“How many technopaths run around and try to stop you?” the younger man
challenged.
“That’s not the point.”
“It is! I’m the only technopath here and I’m not going to go all evil
on you,
Tony!”
“I talked to Ironhide. He said one of the Decepticons, a guy called
Soundwave,
is technopathic. Well, the Cybertronian equivalent of technopathic.”
“I’m not going to attack you because of something that might never
happen!”
“Sam…”
“Soundwave isn’t a technopath!” Sam went on angrily. “He’s the
Cybertronian
version of a telepath. He’s not like me!”
Tony tilted his head a little. “How do you know?”
“I read his file.”
That got Sam raised eyebrows.
“I read a lot of files, okay? I want to know what I might have to face
if the
Cons come back,” the engineer growled.
“Listen, Sam, I’m not going to sue you if you knock me out, okay?” Tony
repeated. “Please! You trained with Barricade, but that’s not an option
for
me.”
Sam looked tense, almost to the breaking point. Tony understood at
least to a
degree that he didn’t want to use his powers to hurt someone,
especially since
he had already knocked Tony out of the sky once. But Stark needed to
know.
“Please?” he implored.
“We stop when I say so,” Sam replied, voice hard. “I’m not going to
permanently
debilitate you because you’re such a stubborn ass.”
Tony grinned. “Now you’re talking!”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
They had chosen the med lab for this. Mainly because Ratchet insisted
that he
keep an eye on both men. Tony called the armor, felt it log on and fill
his
senses. Sam looked tense and like he wanted nothing more than to leave.
Bumblebee’s presence was no great surprise. Tony was still wondering
just what
was going on between those two, and he would ask when this was over,
but for
now he pushed the presence of the yellow mech out of his thoughts.
“Ready?” he asked Sam.
The younger man grimaced. “No. Let’s do it. Maybe I can shut you up by
knocking
you out.”
Tony grinned. “Give it your best shot.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I will.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The pain hit him like an eighteen-wheeler right between the eyes. Tony
had no
concept of up or down any more, he simply screamed, curling in on
himself; the
world around him seemed to rush by at the speed of light, a dizzying
sensation
that made him want to throw up.
Tony felt everything white out around him. There was a searing pain in
his
head, travelling down his spine, and he gasped. For a moment he felt
absolutely
nothing, then reality slammed back into him. The HUD was flashing
warnings at
him, there was a voice demanding to know if he was okay, and he
wondered what
had happened.
Memory returned and he rolled onto the side with a groan. His head
pounded and
his eyes swam with tears.
Damn!
Someone helped him sit up and he turned his head to meet the bright
blue eyes
of Will Lennox.
Blue?
And they glowed? Whoa!
The hand clasping his shoulder armor was colored a dark bronze and
burned gold,
some kind of runes flashing over it.
“
Damn, he sounded bad.
“Yeah. Don’t ask.”
Tony accessed the Extremis and got another blow in the face. It was
like
touching a live wire.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” He undid the helmet manually and looked around for Sam.
The technopath was sitting on the ground, head in his hands, and
Bumblebee was
at his side. The optics were glowing brightly and he was stroking a
finger over
Sam’s back. It was such an intimate gesture, Tony briefly felt his
chest
constrict. He didn’t really have to ask any more. This was more than
telling.
Sam had hit him so hard, Tony had literally seen stars. Everything else
before
that had been warm-up. Even trying to take out the suit had only
resulted in
fast-paced counteraction by the nanotubes. And then Sam had done
something
different and Tony had blacked out.
He clambered to his feet, aided by Lennox, who still looked like a mix
between
the Allspark and a protoform human, and stumbled over to Sam. The armor
felt
alien and heavy. Extremis was partially off-line and needed to reboot
or
recover; whatever.
“You okay?” he asked Lennox, who still looked like a modern piece of
art come
to life.
“Yeah. This will fade.”
“What happened?”
“You did. You give off strange vibes.” Will grimaced.
Tony blinked, slightly baffled. Okay… so what the fuck…? He pushed the
thought
out of his head as he stood before Sam, looking at the stricken
technopath.
“Hey,” Tony said roughly.
Sam looked up, dark eyes burning. There was a clear expression in those
eyes
and Tony smirked.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I didn’t think you could do that.”
“I told you I could take it out, Tony. Don’t make me do it again.”
Bumblebee was still caressing Sam’s back and his optics watched Stark
suspiciously.
“I believe you. I doubt I could come up with a defense against that
whammy. And
don’t worry, the Extremis isn’t completely down.”
Because Sam had stopped. He could have done worse. Tony was sure of it
and he
knew that nothing could counter-act this. He had to live with it. At
least the
Extremis had proven to be an obstacle. It was one good thing so far.
“Sam…?”
Sam looked at him, pale as a sheet and definitely suffering a lot more
than
Tony was.
“Sorry. I mean it.”
“Yeah.”
Tony let the armor open and removed the gauntlet, holding out one hand.
The
black undergarment had receded. Sam looked at him with narrowed eyes,
then
finally took the hand.
“Never ask me again, Stark. Never.”
“Promise.”
Because he ached himself. He needed a Tylenol or something even
stronger. And
he wanted nothing more than to just lie down. Tony rose and swayed, the
world
starting to dance around him.
“Hell…” he groaned.
A large hand caught him as his knees wobbled and he collapsed. Ratchet
was
suddenly there, lifting him up on the table.
“Stay still,” the medic ordered sternly.
And then everything whited out once more.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tony sat in the private area that was mostly used by the human
contingent of
the Autobot base, clutching his coffee mug like a drowning man. He had
refilled
it once already and he wished for the caffeine to work. The man who had
made
the pot of coffee, a guy called Jones, had put enough roast into it to
wake the
dead. Since Tony felt very dead right now, he could only hope.
Damn, this had been bad. He had come to about an hour ago, after being
out cold
for almost the same amount of time, and the headache had been as bad as
throughout his best drunken times. Only this time it hadn’t been the
fault of
too much alcohol. This had been a technopathic blow.
Extremis had recovered, but it reacted sluggishly. Every time he
accessed it,
his head started aching again. Jones had suggested food. Maybe what
helped Sam
would help him.
It hadn’t.
So Tony just suffered silently, eyes half closed, body aching, head
pulsing
with every heart beat.
Someone walked into the deserted room and he blinked his eyes open. Sam
didn’t
look much better, but at least he managed a coordinated walk. Tony had
felt
like a drunk, slightly disoriented, on his way here. And he had
insisted he
could be left alone. The way Jones had looked at him in the corridor
and had
shadowed him until he was here had shown Tony just how bad it must have
looked.
“Tony?”
He squinted at Sam. “Hey.”
“You should take Ratchet’s advice and get some sleep.” He held up a
hand. “And
don’t tell me you’re fine. You’re quite obviously not.”
Tony sighed. “And you are?”
“My situation is different.”
“Because…?”
Sam settled down. He had faint lines of stress in his too pale face,
too, but
he didn’t look like he would keel over any moment now.
“I have an anchor.”
Tony frowned, then a slow smile spread over his lips. He might not be
able to
think as fast as he was used to, but this triggered something.
“Bumblebee.”
Sam nodded, only mildly surprised.
“I was wondering about that…”
The younger man sighed and leaned back into the couch. “Probably. It’s
not what
you think it is.”
“So you’re not having sex?”
Sam groaned. “No. Why does everyone think it’s sex right away?”
Tony chuckled. “Because it’s the most obvious conclusion.”
“Well, we’re not. Why do people think it’s even possible? I mean, look
at the
size difference and the fact Bee’s a robot and I’m human, and…”
“Mind-sex then?” Tony interrupted, sounding amused.
“Stark!”
He laughed, even though it aggravated his headache. “It is,” Tony
teased.
“It doesn’t matter what it is. Bumblebee’s mind gets me back into shape
after
such a stunt. He’s… soothing.”
Tony grew more serious. “Must be something. It’s special, hm?” he
asked, voice
softer.
“It is.” Sam glanced at him, smiling. “I’m glad I have him.”
Tony could only agree. Right now he wished he had something to keep the
Extremis from hurting so much. Or maybe it wasn’t the Extremis and just
his
head. It was hard to keep track of what was truly organic now and what
was
because of the Extremis.
“Good, hm?” Tony asked, voice still soft.
Sam gave him a hard look, then relaxed some more. “Yes.”
“All the better.” He massaged his temples.
“Get some sleep, Tony.”
It was a sound advice. It was a really, really good advice. Finally he
nodded
and rose, feeling dizzy. Damn.
Sam grabbed one elbow and gently steered him out of the common area and
toward
the guest quarters.
“I seem to attract baby-sitters,” Stark muttered.
“You need them.”
The bed looked very inviting, despite the bare room and all-too
functional
design. But Tony had slept in enough cots and military issue beds to
not care
any more. He collapsed onto the bed, toed off his shoes and flopped
back. Sam
smirked a little, then flipped off the lights.
Tony mumbled something and rolled onto the side. He was out no more
than five
minutes later.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sam walked back to his own place on base. It was a former storage
building,
large enough inside to allow Bumblebee to stay should his presence be
needed.
Right now the mech’s presence was in Sam’s mind only. He was wrapped
gently
around him and Sam enjoyed the closeness.
::You should take your own advice, Sam:: Bumblebee sent.
::I’m fine. Really fine::
Bumblebee had helped with that.
His partner drifted closer and Sam smiled, leaning into the presence.
It was so
easy to be close and it was so incredible to feel the strength of
Bumblebee
through their bond.
He entered the former storage area, flipped on the TV and lay back on
the
couch.
Bumblebee sent a hum of contentment. Sam echoed it. He closed his eyes
and let
his mind mesh with Bumblebee’s, all guards down.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hot Rod was back in his usual parking space. The silver skin was
spotless, the
metal cool to the touch, and he looked like all the other cars in
Tony’s
garage: an expensive sports car, a collector’s item. Tony had spoken
very
little with Hot Rod in the past days. They had come home from Stark’s
latest
little brush with death, then Tony had delved right back into company
matters,
interrupted by another visit to the Autobot base, and now…
Things were normal. As if Extremis had never happened.
But it had.
Tony was forever linked into the data streams and he didn’t know what
it had
been like before. This was perfect.
“You don’t have to stick around and guard me all the time,” Tony broke
the
comfortable silence between them. “I could always contact you in case
someone
tries to… oh, I don’t know… take another stab at me.”
“I’m here voluntarily, Tony,” Hot Rod said, sounding infinitely
patient, like
talking to a child who just wouldn’t learn.
“Not interested in hanging out with your pals?”
“We don’t have the same social dynamics humans have. We keep in touch.”
Tony studied the silver mech. –Okay. Just offering you a ticket out of
here—
--I wouldn’t need an excuse to leave—Hot Rod answered, smoothly using
the
uplink Tony had opened.
--You’d just leave?”—
--Does that surprise you?— Hot Rod asked, sounding amused.
“Well, a good, upstanding ‘bot like you…”
The mech laughed. “I’m no do-gooder, Tony. I have as many black marks
as you.”
“Uh-huh.”
--I’m staying. Get used to it—
--No other choice— he answered with a grimace.
Tony kicked up his feet on the worktable and swirled a ridiculously
expensive
flavored, non-alcoholic drink in his glass. It was almost blasphemous.
Well, he
was drinking it out of a very cheap, blue glass he had gotten from the
burger
joint because of some offer or other. Pepper had wrinkled her nose at
him, but
she had taken hers home. It had been a red one.
Tony grinned to himself. Sometimes it was fun to go to a drive through.
Lots of
fun. Especially in the back of a Rolls or driving the R8, the Saleen or
any
other kind of fancy sports car. Yes, he got a kick out of that.
Emptying the glass, he set it down on the table. The last remaining ice
cubes
clinked softly. He gazed at his fingers and wriggled them a little,
smiling
more. Beneath the deceptively smooth human skin lay what Extremis had
made of
him.
So cool. So incredibly cool and more than he had ever hoped to get out
of this.
Extremis had taken the P-Cells present in his body and made them into
his
undergarment when he put on the armor. The smooth structure of the new
‘skin’
was neither metal nor truly organic. It was what protoforms were made
of.
Additionally Tony had been overhauled; completely. His organs were
brand-spanking-new. His liver showed no more signs of alcohol abuse,
his heart
was healthy, the shrapnel was gone, as were the scars he had received
because
of those injuries. Including the bullet wound. There was nothing wrong
with him.
Nothing at all. At least organically.
Jarvis had run a scan on him. The arc reactor was now very much shaped
to blend
in with his natural musculature and shape. It was still glowing an icy
white-blue color, but now the connection was not to his heart, but to
his whole
body. Extremis was part of his nervous system, linked to it. So was the
reactor. Tony had been endlessly amazed at the fine wiring, all
nanotubes,
running from the implant into his body. He couldn’t remove the reactor
as such
and he wondered, if it was damaged, would Extremis repair it. While he
was an
experimental person, he wasn’t keen on stabbing himself in the reactor.
His endurance had grown. He was stronger, he was healthier, he was
faster. He
also ate more. Pepper had remarked on it just this evening when they
had shared
a late dinner. Tony had always substituted solid food for liquids, but
now he
ate healthy portions, including dessert.
Super-Soldier, he thought, amusement spreading through him.
That triggered something else, something he hadn’t thought about ever
since he
had developed the Mark III. His eyes were drawn to a very specific
project of
his.
He remembered now where he had come across the Super-Soldier program
before. It
had been when he had worked another government contract as the chief
developer.
He had delivered the goods on time, had earned the company a very large
amount
of money, as well as four new contracts, and he had had access to the
file of
one Steve Rogers, code name Captain America.
It was out of this file that he had picked one specific thing: the
shield.
The original had been lost with Rogers just before the end of World War
II. No
one knew where the body of the man was and how he had died, but the
shield had
been found, only to be lost again. The specifics of the construction
were still
on record and Tony had made it his private project. He had no idea why,
but the
idea of this being the only weapon of an otherwise mainly unarmed man
had
intrigued him. Rogers had been the pinnacle of human perfection. The
perfect
fighter. Trained in hand-to-hand combat, faster, stronger, more
resilient, than
any other human being could ever hope to be through normal training.
The serum had been lost with so many other things, but Maya Hansen had
revived
it in Extremis, just on a different level. Tony had taken to
reconstructing the
shield, trying out different designs, until he had made it a perfectly
round
one.
Perfect weight, perfect balance, perfect protection. Aside from maybe a
blow
from Iron Man, nothing could ever dent the shield. With the success of
the
P-Cells, he had tried to integrate them into the shield as well, but
their
requirement for energy to work made that impossible. He could hardly
snap a few
AA batteries into a hidden socket.
Tony ran a hand over the smooth surface. He had even given it the
correct
coloring. Red, white and blue. A star in the middle.
How patriotic.
He almost laughed out loud.
Captain America had been lost, but the idea of a national hero was
still there.
Maybe the world was waiting for the return of such a new superhero.
Iron Man
hardly filled those shoes.
Using the Extremis, Tony closed the file. It winked out of existence on
the
screens. The shield was still there.
Part of him wanted to get to know this man. Wanted to talk to him,
wanted to
listen to him. He had been the first superhero ever. He had been a mere
human
being and he had been altered. So much like Tony.
Just that he hadn’t been an arrogant bastard, a weapons dealer, a
merchant of
death.
Tony suppressed the flood of self-loathing and turned to his armor. He
had a
few changes to make there. He had to slim it down, take the Extremis
into
account, the fact that he himself was no part of the armor, stored part
of it
inside himself. It would take his mind off things.
At least for now.