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THIS ROUND IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
ROUND SEVEN WILL OPEN ON FRIDAY THE 15TH.
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ROUND SIX
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For all anyone knows, this is a business deal. A very sketchy and silent business deal.
He can’t stand the quiet after a few seconds.
“So, where are we going? Please don’t tell me it’s a warehouse. Or some dank basement. Seriously, there cannot be more cliché places for nefarious purposes than an empty warehouse or a basement. I mean, come on, where’s the creativity? Also, castles. Castles are very, very unoriginal places to do evil. Doom loves them. Do you guys know Doom? I imagine that he’s above your pay grade. What? Have all of you taken a vow of silence or something? Too badass to talk to me? Well. Here’s the deal. I’m going to give you a chance. All of you. As ugly as you all are. You can give this shtick up, cause really, who are you kidding, you’re messing with the Avengers. I don’t know how the hell your bosses managed to capture my team or why. But you can’t hold them too long. They get all antsy. Especially Thor. Thor and Steve, actually. Their metabolism is like ten times faster than any of you. They will eat you. And Natasha and Clint? They hate being chained up. Honest to God they’ll shred you. And Bruce…well, the Hulk will smash you to bits. So, any takers? You can’t possibly all be that suicidal!”
One of the thugs slugs him across the face and Tony grins, teeth red and jaw sore.
“Not exactly the response I was looking for but we’ll get there. Baby steps, I guess.”
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There’s a labyrinth of empty offices and hallways and stairs before they finally arrive in the basement.
A spacious room with a row of cells along the back wall and he clenches his fists because his team are being held like criminals.
“You fucking idiot,” Clint surges forward against the bars, he’s holding his hand close to him chest and that makes something rush in Tony's chest, something animalistic and dark and murderous.
“Tony, God, you weren’t supposed to come.” It’s Steve now, heavy manacles that glint around his wrists, puncture wounds along his neck, stance weary and tired.
Natasha follows him, face unreadable but her eyes warn him to leave. Thor stumbles forward, eyes unfocused and twice the pricks along his neck than Steve.
“Friend Stark…please…depart.”
Bruce is in the cell farthest to the left, an IV attached to an arm bound by the same chains that hold the captain and the demigod.
His half-lidded eyes are full of fear.
“You will find that I’ve taken many precautions.”
The man that steps forward is nameless, unknown. But Tony hates him with an intensity that scorches his mind.
“What the fuck are they on?”
“Powerful substances to be sure. And the cells and chains are reinforced adamantium. The hardest metal in the known world, if my research into Wolverine is anything to go by.”
“In case you didn’t know, Logan and I tend to clash whenever we’re around each other.”
The man smiles, a sick and twisted grin, unhinged.
“I’m very glad you came, Stark. And you followed directions too, an admirable feat for someone like you.”
Tony narrows his eyes. He doesn’t have time for games. No. He has to get them out, keep them safe.
“What the hell do you want? A parade? A fat check?”
There’s a chorus of yells, and curses and anger and pleading for him not to be stupid, not to give in, to stop, to leave, and Tony knows that he can’t do that, any of that. He can’t.
“Even the super soldier may be killed with a shot to the head. And I’m sure I can find a way to dispose of the good doctor.”
Tony stands his ground, everything else fading to the background. Single-minded, the enormity of his brain focused on this one thing, this one event.
“You’re welcome to walk away. We will not hold you and we will not pursue you. No one will stop you. Refuse and you will leave with your life. Return to your tower and your millions. No worse off than when you came.”
Others come forward, clad in black, all men except for the woman that emerges, small titanium case in hand.
“All I ask is for one life. One single life in exchange for five.”
Tony sucks in a breath. And lets it out.
So that’s what they want
The man doesn’t need to voice it. Tony knows. He supposes he’s known all along, a quiet awareness that was in the back of his mind.
There was never a question of whether Tony was going to do it, just what.
They’re still yelling, Tony you fucking idiot and Tony, what the hell do you think you’re doing and Tony, please and brother Stark, no.
Then Yinsen’s voice, A man who has everything, and nothing but he has something now, these broken-but-still-worthy individual lives in his hands.
The choice is easy. His mind rationalizes it, but its his heart, shredded and damaged as it is, that gives him strength.
So he reaches up, and unbuttons his shirt.
Only a seconds hesitation and his fingernails hook around the miniscule grooves in the arc reactor.
A turn and it is unlocked.
A pull and it slides out.
A final yank and it rests in his palm, cool and thrumming.
One life for five.
He couldn’t have come up with a better deal if he’d tried.
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OP is VERY please, this is exactly what I was looking for
I cannot wait for the rest of it X3
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The mocking is completely unnecessary and makes Tony’s blood boil in his veins but he stands still, arc reactor in hand as the woman steps closer.
She plucks it from his palm like the precious thing it is and places it inside the case she carries. Its closing click is finality itself and Tony takes a step back.
“You have what you want.”
The man smiles, nods, keys something into his phone. “Their cells will open automatically in half an hour. The drugs will take longer than that to clear out. Now, forgive me, but it’s just a precaution I assure you.”
Two sets of hands pull him back, attaching a gleaming bracelet around his wrist.
“It is a proximity device. The cells will only open and the flow of sedatives into Dr. Banner will only stop as long as that device remains within the building.”
It’s a smart idea, genius even and Tony can appreciate it for a few seconds.
“It was pleasure doing business with you,” the man sneers, triumphant as he turns to leave.
“There’s no place where you’ll be safe, you son of a bitch. Run wherever you want, but we’ll find you, you sick fuck.”
Clint’s snarled declaration is accompanied by a rumbling growl from Thor, whose eyes are becoming more lucid by the minute.
The man has the gall to laugh and then he’s walking away.
Tony wants to say something brave and snarky, he wants to join Clint in his cursing, Natasha in her Russian threats, even Steve, who tries to reason with him, bargaining for his immunity if only he’d give it back because they all know what the arc reactor does.
Tony wants to do all these things but it’s getting harder to stay upright, harder to breathe, harder to ignore the increasingly adamant pangs of burning pain in his chest.
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It was worth it. He knows in his heart that he did the right thing.
Someone is calling him, saying his name, Tony,
“Tony!”
His mind refocuses, eyes settle on Steve, the ragged sound of his voice.
“Can you open the doors?” Clint asks, eyes raking the room for anything useful because they need to get out goddamn it, Tony, Tony’s fucking dying right in front of their eyes and Clint can’t just stand there, can’t just watch, no more. No more red on his ledger, not the blood of a friend, a teammate, a brother.
Tony moves toward Clint’s cell. He wants to try, but fatigue settles in the deep hollow in his chest.
Hands help ease him down, he feels the bars against his back and he looks up, realizing that he’s right between the cells that hold Clint and Steve.
“You’re going to be fine, Tony. Just fine.”
A hand on his shoulder and Steve’s voice is firm, confident. Ever the optimist and Tony has to smile at him.
“Sorry to break it to you, Tony, but the Avengers is a lifetime gig. No outs and no buts.”
Clint, who’s settling his hand on his chest, right above the hole where the reactor used to be before his hand moves up, fingers on his pulse point.
“Jesus, Tasha, his pulse is out of control.”
Whether the Russian replies or not, Tony doesn’t know because suddenly the world whites out as something grips his heart and squeezes as fire blazes its way up his arms, his neck and his jaw twinges as he grinds his teeth hard and he curls up, trying to relieve the unbearable tightness in his chest, eyes closed tightly, fingers digging into his knees.
Fucking hell.
“Bruce! Bruce, can you do anything?”
“Can I even do chest compressions? Fuck! Fucking Stark, fucking To-“
“Tony, breathe, breathe with me. It’s going to be fine…”
“Mjolnir, I cannot feel her. Mighty All-Father, please…”
“’S ‘kay guys,” he murmurs, projecting his voice as much as he can. “’S all right. You’re safe. ‘S all…all that matters.”
Steve is glaring at him now and Natasha looks like she wants to cut him up and Clint sighs, long and loud and angry.
They want to say something, probably call him an idiot again and Tony wants nothing more than to hear them out but the wave of pressure crashes again, pain cresting in his chest as his breath hitches, catches in his lungs and he’s clawing at the ground, the rough concrete, shit, head tipped back, hands on his face, his head, Tony, hang on, but he can’t, there’s too much hurt, white noise in his ears as he loses control of his jaw and maybe he screams, maybe its more of a whimpered groan as his muscles tense and strain, pulled so tight he knows he’s trembling. His vision is fading, as quickly as the feeling of warmth as his vision tunnels.
There’s a dull roar then, the sound of concrete giving way at the same time men burst into the room, is that Coulson’s voice?
And Steve, and Clint and Natasha and Thor, hang on Tony, please. Hang on.
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My goodness, my eyes were practically glued to your words, your fanfiction is just amazing!!!
I really hope we get to see the last bit of it!!!
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It’s their first look into the deep chasm that lies in Tony’s chest.
With his unbroken hand Clint points to the sharp, edged black lines that snake out from the port, “What the hell is that?”
Natasha’s mouth purses, “It’s old scarring from the palladium poisoning.”
Steve has no idea what palladium is but his heart drops at the mention of poison. He wants to ask and to know, the same curiosity reflected in Thor’s and Bruce’s eyes but then they’re landing and SHIELD paramedics are slipping Tony’s limp body out.
He catches sight of Pepper Potts and the glowing, brilliant blue in her hand and frankly, everything after that is a blur.
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Steve shakes his head, sparing a glance at Clint. The marksman hands him a steaming cup of coffee.
Clint settles into the empty chair next to him and both men regard the person on the bed.
Tony is motionless, the rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he is still among them. It’s such a painful contradiction to who the man is, all kinetic motion and noise and wild embodiment of life.
Steve feels the twisting in his gut again and his shoulders sag.
“I thought…I didn’t know it was that deep.”
They all knew about Afghanistan and the shrapnel. Had even learned, after another mission gone to hell, that Tony had been largely conscious during the crude operation.
But seeing it…seeing Tony in such utter pain…
Steve wants to rip someone apart.
“We’ve never even asked him if it hurts him,” Clint adds, slowly and quietly and Steve is so glad, in a way that makes him feel horrible, that he’s not alone in his questioning guilt.
Silence.
“He’d do it again.” The declaration is rough with sleep but determined and firm and both men turn immediately.
Pepper is looking straight at them, rising from her post at the couch where Natasha is stirring awake.
“I’ll give him hell when he wakes up, but what he did…” Pepper pauses, swallows, shifts.
“He’d do it again.”
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Steve isn’t there when Tony wakes up.
It’s been four days and he’d finally given in and gone home, to the Tower, to sleep and shower.
Coulson had been the first person Tony had seen, a fitting scene that makes Steve smile because Coulson had seen Tony first after he’d woken in the Tower, chest still throbbing from being stabbed. Steve had been against kidnapping the Agent from SHIELD Medical after it was discovered he was still alive, but now, now he understands how far a friend will go when moved to act.
He nearly topples over a nurse but when he walks in…
“Captain! Join us! I have brought the pop-tarts. Brother Tony has complained of the food in this place.”
Thor's grin is wide and elated but Steve is looking at the bed, catching Tony’s chocolate brown eyes.
The genius’s mouth is quirked up into a dazzling grin, fingers relaxed against the half-eaten pastry in his hand.
“Hey, Cap! I heard you cried for hours over my body. Wouldn’t be consoled they said. And by they, I mean Natasha. I think she was being sarcastic but I can’t be sure. Her poker face is legendary. I hope the low cut of this hospital gown isn’t too offensive. Nurse Ratched wouldn’t let me change.”
Bruce and Pepper chide Tony and Clint laughs and Natasha may be smiling as Coulson shakes his head and Steve wants to be angry. He wants to lecture. He wants to ask what the hell makes Tony think that his life is an appropriate bargaining chip.
He can’t un-see the way that Tony crumpled in on himself, fingers clawing for purchase on the ground, overwhelmed by agony.
But Tony is alive. He’s here. Tangible and breathing and joking and being so infuriatingly light-hearted and Steve just…
“It’s good to have you back.”
Tony beams, motions for him to sit and Steve does, all the while feeling something spark in his chest. Something warm and permanent, as powerful and resplendent as the arc reactor.
“Stark, you pull that stunt again and I will castrate you.”
Natasha’s glare is as deadly as ever, but there is nothing but affection in her tone.
“Nat, my favorite assassin, you wound me deeply.”
Steve can’t help but laugh.
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:DDDDDDDDDDDDD
!!
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I LOVE that last scene in the hospital so much. And this line, Tony beams, motions for him to sit and Steve does, all the while feeling something spark in his chest. Something warm and permanent, as powerful and resplendent as the arc reactor. :D Amazing.
THANK YOUUUUUUU!!
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