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ROUND SIX
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I’ve noticed a lot of stories along these lines: Tony gets captured/attacked/what-have-you and in the process gets his arc reactor forcibly removed
and those prompts are all well and fun
but I want to see something a bit different (and I will be posting this prompt as soon as I get to an open round)
What I want to see is this: Instead of Tony being captured, one/all of the Avengers are. And they’re ransomed. The ransom doesn’t say what they want, only that Tony needs to come alone and without the suit.
Once he gets there he sees his teammate(s) in deathtraps and the (wo)man/men holding them give Tony a choice: The arc reactor for his friends.
He’s not being held or restrained, he’s allowed to refuse, he’s allowed the leave. The door’s right there, no one’s stopping him. But if he leaves the Avengers die.
If he agrees and hands over the arc reactor his friends live and are free to go.
Basically what I want to see is this: Tony willingly taking the arc reactor out of his own chest and handing it over to save his friends. Not being held down and having it forcibly removed; taking it out himself. And then his friends’ reactions to that selfless move (all or most of them having assumed that Tony would never do it and then realizing that yes, they really do mean that much to him)
I honestly don’t care how it ends, whether Tony ultimately dies or his friends manage to save him and the reactor.
And if Tony/Bruce, Tony/Steve, or Tony/Thor can be worked in that’d be awesome
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So while he'd always refuse to give up the reactor if it was "just" his life at stake, because the design could be used for very bad things, if it was it (and his life) or the team's? Just ugh. This is just so Tony.
Hopefully someone writes it!
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He’s pulling at his hair, barking orders at JARVIS, surviving on nothing but coffee and cold scraps of take-out and energy drinks because his team is fucking missing and SHIELD is working on finding them but they’re so goddamn slow.
The call is untraceable and he accepts it because at this point, he’s ready for anything.
“Mr. Stark.”
“If you’ve even fucking thought about hurting them-”
“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, Stark. Your team is listening in, if that’s a deterrent, though I imagine its not.”
“What do you want?”
It’s that growled question when it all clicks in maddening clarity. Those four words that stir that thing inside his chest, a gripping (love?) realization that whatever the man asks of him, he will do. It’s frightening if he’s honest with himself, that a group of people should have such power over him.
There is a chuckle, cruel and cold and Tony clenches his fists.
“I want you at the fourth pier in the Hudson. You’ll find an address and further instructions there. Oh, and Stark? This is a private, one person invitation. Leave the suit and the cavalry at home or things will definitely get bloodier.”
The dial tone and Tony has to swallow down the fury and the panic to allow his logic to carry him forward.
“JARVIS?”
“Sir?”
“Draw up the shortest route to the pier and give me scans of the area for the last few hours. Also start the auto-plot feature on the armor. Once I get there, you’ll be responsible for bringing it back home.”
“What should I do with the data sir?”
Tony mulls it over, the statistics and probabilities running in his head.
“Send them to Agent Coulson directly and discretely. He’ll know what to do.”
“Sir?”
“Yeah, Jarv.”
“…should I prepare some sort of contingency plan?”
“No. I’ll uh… Just make sure Dum-E cleans up okay? I need a clean work space for when I get back.”
The AI knows how to tell a lie a thousand different ways but remains silent.
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on the EDGE of my seat for the next part
Tony Tony
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very, very interesting so far
I'm waiting on the edge of my seat to see where you take this :D
Thank you so much for filling this for me!
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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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