Redemption: Chapter 9 - It's Done

Across the city, Iron Man landed beside Captain America, unable to shake a nagging suspicion. “Steve,” he said over the comm as he blasted another of the bizarre machines out of the air. Grunting in acknowledgement, Steve tossed his shield catching it again. “Doesn’t this seem like it would have only needed three of us at most to handle?”

Neither spoke for a moment, taking down several more of the enemy. “You’re right, I think we were set up,” Steve admitted quietly.

“Set up?” Clint picked up over the chatter.

“Stark wanted us out of the party,” Tony’s voice was tight, strained. “I’m going back.”

 Steve slung his shield, “Me too, the others can handle this.”

Thor landed nearby, swinging his hammer. “Indeed friends, we shall see you soon.”

Grabbing Steve, Tony blasted off, both men silent and worried.

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He had never taken pleasure in killing; it had unfortunately become a cruel necessity in his life. Stark however, was willing to make an exception tonight.

The aliens had panicked; their grand plan collapsing around them as they looked to their leader for direction. The woman though was at a loss, he could see it, and before they could rally, Stark was on them.

With the element of surprise on his side, he leveled his guns. Shooting three in quick succession; dropping them where they stood. Recovering from their initial shock, four more rushed him, fists cocked; he obliged.

Bones snapped like kindling under his onslaught, he tore through them easily. Undeterred as he bore down on his target, mechanical eye never leaving Eva. Disgusted as she used those around her as shields, scrambling for the doors.

Stark quickly put down the last of her group, ten in all. Leaving just him and the bitch. Terrified, she pressed her back against the barred exit, cowering as he approached.

“Please,” she begged, her voice lithing unusually. “Mercy!” she looked at him wide eyed, as he hunkered down before her.

“Mercy? Really? Were you planning to show any of these innocent people mercy tonight? Are you planning to show mercy when your entire civilization attacks my planet?” Her already unnaturally large eyes went wider. She worked her mouth, eventually slamming it shut.

“How you know?” she managed, disbelieving.

He shrugged off the question. “Why? Why do all this? Why take Earth?” She looked at him steadily, as if weighing her options.

“Water,” she finally said, looking away face red with suppressed anger. “Avengers only threat…kill myth, kill hope.” Seeming to realize her death was at hand, she turned ugly. Her countenance sneering and hate filled as she spat at him, “They come, and you die.” 

Stark was inches from her face, “We’ll see about that, bitch.” Reaching out, he gripped her head in his hands, staring into big eyes for a long moment. Grip tightening, he gave a quick jerk snapping her neck easily. A single dark eye watching dispassionately as her lifeless body slid to the floor.

Tony Stark stood slowly, ears ringing, adrenaline pounding as he surveyed his handy work. The truth slow penetrate, the only dead in the ballroom were Eva and her minions. No walls covered in blood, no mutilated bodies of what had once been Earth’s diplomats. No mass slaughter.

Blinking slowly, he turned to his dead hallucination. Steve staring silently back at him, clouded eyes just as unfathomable as always.

Silence stretching out impossibly.

At the far end of the room, the door burst suddenly inward. Iron Man and Captain America appearing ready for battle. Dazedly he turned to them, just as they lowered their guard. “Stark, you ok?” Steve called, glancing around at the unmoving bodies.

“It’s done,” he whispered. Reality finally colliding with him full force. His chest seemed to cave inwards, as his hands and knees began to shake uncontrollably.

 “I…I..” he stuttered, managing three steps before his traitorous legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor.

Sinking to his knees, he could hear the others calling to him, but their voices sounded miles away. “It’s done, I stopped it,” he gasped, gulping for air.

“You did love, you did.”

He hadn’t cried since Steve had died. Didn’t think he had any more tears left to cry. But as he clutched at his arc, dead companion beside him, the tidal wave of emotion flattened him. All the guilt, the sorrow, and agony he’d been carrying…that monumental burden was lightening. Sobbing raggedly, he tried to pull himself together, the tasking seemly impossible; he was drowning.

Steve reached him first, worried Stark had been injured, he dropped to his knees before he reached out for the trembling figure. “Stark?”

Suddenly he was looking into a familiar dark eye, and an unfamiliar glowing red orb. Strong hands were on his arms, his metal one squeezing painfully.

 “I did it!” he hissed, Steve didn’t move. He could see tears tracking from his good eye, but something told the big man Stark wasn’t really seeing him.

He smiled hopefully at the dead men before him, blue eyes set in that unnaturally pale face, but those bloodless lips would not smile back at him. He clutched at the strong arms desperately, “I did it, don’t you see, I stopped it from happening.” He blinked, frowning when Steve seemed to split, one so very much alive the other...

He shook his head, trying to clear his muddled mind. His eye alerting him to the man slowly beginning to rise behind them, one of the aliens was going to try and shoot him in the back.

Before Tony or Steve could blink, Stark was up, snagging the shield off the Cap’s back, he turned firing it off with an ease that Steve himself didn’t think he possessed. It arched perfectly, catching the injured man square in the chest, dropping him for good.

Ricocheting off, it returned to the man who had thrown it. Stark catching it easily with his metal arm half crouched. Ready to throw again if needed.

“Wow, that was amazing!” Clint, Tasha, Thor, and the Hulk had returned just in time to see the throw.

Embarrassed, Stark quickly returned the shield. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Steve accepted it, looking thoughtful. “You’ve had some practice,” he commented shrewdly. The man from the future shrugged, looking away, eyes landing on the large green man.

Stark smiled widely, moving towards the far end of the room, “Hulk,” he said approaching the angry green man without fear. Growling, a massive head turned to him, eyes narrowing as he shifted agitated. The future man didn’t back down, and much to everyone’s surprise, the Hulk did not lash out.

Stepping before him, they stared at one another for long moments, something unspoken passing between them. Then, much to everyone’s surprise the big guy actually chuckled patted the other; a motion that would have creamed a lesser man. 

“What the hell was that about?” Clint muttered, glancing at the others. Stark was carefully shrugging back into his uniform jacket, tugging his hat back on as he buttoned up smoothing the material.

Trying to mask the trembling in his right hand as he pretended not to pay attention to the others. The Avengers murmuring together, a dazed looking Bruce now among them. “Probably talking about me,” he muttered.

“Since when does the world revolve around you?”

He laughed loudly, “Love it when you belittle me.”

“You love the abuse.”

“I do, I really do,” he mumbled, hesitating in joining the little group. They regarded one another solemnly, as they spoke in low tones. The scene made his chest ache terribly. A more ragtag bunch he’d never known…and never loved so much. Friends like that…he couldn’t have asked for better.

“You’re getting eccentric in your old age,” the dead Captain said, standing beside him, as he awkwardly stood outside the others.

 “If I am I’m entitled.”

Just then Steve turned to him, beautiful, wonderful Steve. “Stark, you ok?” slowly, carefully he moved to stand before him smiling softly.

Stark’s eye told him how healthy and perfect the man was. “Not yet, but I’m getting there.”

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“You called me an old man all the time.”

“You were an old man.”

“I didn’t wander around dressed like that.”

“What is it with you and my cardigan? I’m one hundred and thirty-eight years old.” He said defiantly, tugging it closer about his scarred body, waiting for his coffee to percolate.

“It’s not the sweater…” cloudy blue eyes dropped to the others feet, currently sporting monstrously pink bunny slippers.

“Ok, I’ll give you that one…but they are warm,” sniffing, he picked up his cup mustering what little dignity he had left before heading out to the common area.

The Tower was remarkably quite today, the Avengers off attending to various missions and assignments. Not that Stark minded, it was nice to just be able to relax, not constantly having to be on the defensive.

It had been two days since the night of the gala, and if the timeline held, in three days the invasion would commence. And so far everything was going a hell of a lot better then he had anticipated.

Stark headed towards his room, contemplating a nap, it would be a shame not to make use of the fantastically luxurious bed. Sipping his coffee, he set the cup on the nightstand shuffling around the room tidying up.

“You think they are still going to attack?”

“She said they were coming.” Stark answered, pausing as his brilliant mind kicked over. “I wonder,” he mumbled moving to his bag. Rooting around in the duffle a frown knit his brow. Hearing the crackle of paper, he tugged out a small stack of articles.

“I know that look, you’re onto something,” Steve commented, sitting on the bed watching him with those vacant dead eyes.

“I…maybe,” he muttered absently, looking over the headline of the first article. It had at one time reported the tragic news of an American hero’s death. Now it heralded the triumphant victory of the Avengers lead by Captain America.

Excited, he hurried over to the imaginary companion. “Look, the article changed,” gleefully he held it up.

The next had been about the gala, now instead of ‘Massacre at Stark Gala’ it was ‘Attempted Assassination Thwarted.’ It was tangible proof that he was changing things, that terrible bleak future was slowly dissipating.

“If the newspaper clippings are changing…then why aren’t you?” sometimes he wished his hallucination wasn’t so perceptive.

 “No idea love, perhaps it has something to do with the uncertainty of the future? I haven’t stopped the invasion yet, so the future hadn’t fully changed.” Chuckling, he flipped to the next article. “I could also be making shit up too…” he trailed off, eyes widening as he read the next headline.

 Instead of another clipping about the gala, this one talked about the untimely death of billionaire Antony Stark, “Oh shit…” 

“What?” he ignored the question for the moment, quickly reading the article, detailing the assassination of the man as he got out of his car and as headed inside the Tower. A madman was going to run him down.

His good eye flickered to the date; “Fuck!” he hissed, it was today. “Give me a time,” he begged but the article didn’t say.

Mind racing he adapted, “JARVIS, where is Tony now?’ Stark already running.

“On his way to the tower sir,” cursing a blue streak, he rounded the stairs, dashing towards the elevators.

“ETA?”

There was a pause. “Five minutes, sir.”