Iron Man: She Builds Quick Machines 2/??
Title: She Builds Quick Machines
Fandom: Iron Man (movieverse)
Author: Ghani Starkiller @ mrs_peel_fanfic
Rating: PG-13 for language and sexual situations
Disclaimer: Marvel and the filmmakers own 'em, I just play with 'em.
Characters: Tony, Rhodes, Pepper, flashback!Obadiah, some Happy, OFCs, Pepper/Tony, Rhodey/OFC
Summary: As Pepper urges Tony to accept Obadiah's betrayal, she herself grows closer in sympathy to Stane's grieving personal assistant, and becomes fearful for Tony's new lifestyle and her relationship with it and him. Meanwhile Stark and Rhodes slowly begin to uncover a plot coming from within Stark Industries that involves industrial espionage, revenge and the unsettling resurgence of a ghost from Tony's troubled past. And cybernetic ninjas.
A/N: This one turned out to be pretty Rhodey-centric; at least the last half is. It's something I wanted to do with the story at some point, but even this surprised me!
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1
Beautiful Story Graphic by jadeblood
2.
“Tony!” barked James Rhodes, taking the steps down to the garage workshop two at a time. Pepper had long since killed Tony’s loud music in an attempt to get him moving; it hadn’t worked and Rhodey had been the backup plan. “Get your ass in gear,” he commanded as he slipped through the empty door frame, happy not to have to monkey with the password encrypted lock that used to sit in the destroyed and as of yet unreplaced smart-glass the wall and door had been made from.
“Don’t do that,” Tony warned distractedly, not bothering to look up from the soldering station as his friend entered. “It freaks me out when you use that tone of voice, you know this; makes me feel like one of your cadets. Honestly, it’s terrifying.”
“And sometimes it’s the only thing you’ll respond to,” snorted Rhodey. He shook his head despairingly, taking in the state of Tony: the tousled hair, the sweat-blotched t-shirt, the grease-stained jeans. Why should it surprise him? Had he really expected this not to be a struggle? “Planning on getting ready anytime soon?” he asked with a sigh.
“Busy,” replied Tony plainly with a grunt. “Still have a couple of hours.” He shrugged, swiping his hand across his damp forehead, leaving a streak of grime behind. “Plenty of time.”
“Shit, Tony, it’s quarter after nine,” he told him with irritated incredulity. “The funeral’s in forty-five minutes! And, man, you really need to take a shower. Have you slept in, you know, the past week?”
“No time. Busy,” Tony repeated, heavy a weary sigh. “Pepper send you down here?”
“Truthfully, Tone?” Rhodey snickered, the ghost of a smile coming to his lips as he nudged a discarded pizza box with the toe of his dress shoe. “I just followed the funk ‘cause, honestly, it’s starting to get a bit nasty down here.”
“I meant,” Tony clarified brusquely, more intent on his work than on his words “did she badger you into this? I mean, Obie’s funeral-“ He quirked his mouth to the side. “Hardly the most thrilling weekend gig I can think of. You really want to spend your Saturday eulogizing a-a double-dealing lunatic?”
“I honestly cannot think of anything more agonizing,” Rhodey told him bluntly, “but I ain’t doing it for him, man, and you know it. Now get off your ass and, please, for the benefit of all of us, get in the shower. Really, it’d be a public service; I know I’ll thank you for it. You got forty minutes and counting, let’s go!”
“Civilian voice, please,” Tony chastened him playfully. He looked up at him for the first time, dragging his goggles back over his head as he glared at Rhodey in surprise, his words finally seeming to penetrate his preoccupied brain. “It’s after nine?” Rhodey nodded grimly. Could it really be possible that he had been laboring nonstop for a little over four hours? he thought as he threw his goggles aside, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his backside against the edge of the table. “Seriously?”
“No, man, I’m pulling your leg,” chuckled Rhodey with forced joviality. “Of course seriously,” he snapped. He shook his head, clearing away some junk from a nearby bench and sitting down as he gnawed on his bottom lip. This was just Tony, you know? And, considering the circumstances, his petulant behavior wasn’t completely unjustified. “Look, I understand why you wouldn’t be into this….”
Tony chuckled tiredly, rubbing his eyes, swiping at the sweat that rushed to flood the skin where the goggles had previously kept it back, at the corners of his eyes and below his brow. This wasn’t a talk he needed to have with Rhodes, not aloud; he knew that his friend understood how he felt. To change the subject, he inquired, “Does Hogan have the Audi geared up?” It was clear he was determined to treat this as nothing more than an expected public appearance.
“He prepped it just in case. We were all actually hoping you’d just let him drive you this time. You know, go for low-key for a change.” Rhodey stood and, as Tony crossed the room and passed him with an incredulously quirked eyebrow, gave his friend a heartening slap on the back. “Yeah,” he sighed, “I told Pepper it was a pipe dream. Knowing how you like to drive, man, I’m actually kinda uncomfortable with the thought of the speeding you’ll have to do in order to make it on time to the service.”
“Who knows,” Tony joked with the careless shrug of one shoulder, “maybe today’s the day I finally give Hogan a heart attack.”
“You’re dark, man,” chided Rhodey as the strolled up the flight of stairs together. “Plus, I’m telling you, Happy’s a stone; it’ll take a better man than you to break him.”
*~*~*
“Sir,” came Jarvis’ crisp voice as Tony was looking himself over, admiring his smart reflection in the mirror and adjusting his cufflinks as Pepper smoothed his stylish jacket across his shoulders. “I’ve confirmed and adjusted the initial findings in the search you asked me to perform, with some results I thought you might find interesting….”
“Tony, don’t you dare!” warned Pepper as she checked her watched. They were late enough as it was without any added distractions; the last thing she needed was another reason for Tony to drag his feet like a difficult child any more than he already was. “Whatever it is, it can wait,” she said sternly, ushering him towards the door. “Rhodey’s probably there already,” she murmured, shaking her head.
“I love it when you get all determined and pushy,” he flirted mischievously, walking backwards as she shooed him across the foyer and onto the front drive with a dogged waving motion of her arms. “Save it for now, Jarvis,” he instructed the artificial intelligence. “You look beautiful,” he told Pepper, his attention rapidly shifting back onto her. And she did, her pale skin offset by the tasteful deep purple ensemble she’d chosen; the wispy curls of her ginger hair, loose over her shoulders, was held off of her forehead with a elegantly bejeweled headband.
He felt the breath go out of his lungs as he studied her, like a sigh only much more dramatic. He realized that they were nearly perfectly color-coordinated, his tie and her dress, and for just a moment he absurdly wondered if she’d done that on purpose. He quickly dismissed the notion though its implications lingered. “Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” she replied with a wily but genuinely pleased smile, “and, yes, Happy was kind enough to give me that compliment.”
Tony grunted his dissatisfaction, his frown turning to a scowl as Pepper began to walk away from him, towards Hogan and the open door of the limousine. “You’re not riding with me?” he called, gesturing towards the Audi.
“Are you kidding?” she laughed, shuffling into the limo’s passenger seat beside Happy. “I’ve never had a death wish, Mr. Stark.”
*~*~*
So much had changed in those fateful three months in Afghanistan, and in the time since, so much Jim Rhodes had yet to allow himself even to address; he’d only just started coming to terms with how his friendship with Tony had begun to weaken into something he hadn’t at all been happy with.
The relief of Tony’s return had been tainted by an admittedly unfair resentment at his behavior; Rhodey was almost ashamed to recall how he’d taken the proclamation of the munitions decommissioning of Stark Industries as a personal insult, how Tony had reached out to him and he’d slapped him down. Internally, Rhodes’ confidence had been shaken, his perceived inability to protect Tony had been eating away at him, turning to guilt and misdirected spite; his relationship with his girl, Rae, had suffered. Stane’s funeral service was a peculiar and disquieting reminder of it all.
The phone in Rhodes’ pocket began to vibrate; it made only a faint and muffled droning sound, amplified by the acoustics of the church, which he attempted to ignore it, shrugging innocently at the older woman in the pew in front of him turned her head to glare at him over her shoulder. He smiled awkwardly as it began again, pretending to focus on the service with grave concentration when he felt the delicate touch of his Rae’s hand on his knee. He looked into her sweet face as she pursed her full lips, jerking her head pointedly, tossing her coiffed platinum hair against her high cheekbones and long, slender neck.
With her encouragement, finally he grudgingly yielded. “Tony,” he said in a harsh whisper as he fetched the mobile from his pocket and held it to his ear, “please tell me you are not calling me in the middle of a funeral.” This drew more stares and clumsily he stood, sidling his way to the isle and retreating to the back of the room.
“This is just the memorial service,” he answered dismissively. “It’s not like I rang you up over his body during the burial. Besides, Obie’s ex-wife’s gonna be reading from Auden forever, I swear. She should be thanking me: their divorce settlement was a joke, a pittance; she’ll get more from his estate in the next month than she would have seen in years. Plus, I have to say, she has really, really crappy taste in poetry. It’s not a judgment or anything; I’m just putting it out there.”
Rhodey rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to hide the smile that had leapt to his lips in spite of himself; he was imagining Tony rolling his eyes and rubbing his forehead exaggeratedly as he spoke. “Please tell me no one else can hear you,” he pleaded, aware that his friend was seated in the very first pew at the front of the room, directly before the altar podium where the ex-Mrs. Stane was presently reciting from. He tried to glance over the sea of heads but could not spot Tony.
“Don’t worry about them, everyone’s fine,” responded Tony casually. “They all think I’m an asshole already anyway. I’m kidding!” he added quickly before Rhodey could object. “I excused myself; I’m in the john. The vicar’s got some real interesting reading material in here, I’ll tell you. Listen, I need to ask you something because, honestly, it’s been killing me: Have you ever heard the word ‘Abdias’ before?”
Whatever Rhodey had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. Taken completely unaware, it took him a moment to answer. “Sure,” he replied with a shrug. “The Book of Obadiah, the shortest of all the gospels of the minor prophets in the Old Testament.”
For a full minute, there was nothing on the other end of the line apart from the sound of a stunned silence; Rhodes began to wonder if the call had been dropped. He almost jumped at the sound of Tony’s voice when he finally spoke again: “I’m frantically trying to figure out how you can know that, and the only explanation I’ve been able to come up with so far involves a priest’s cassock and a Thai stripper.”
“As usual, the way your mind works both astonishes and frightens me,” Rhodey told him dryly. “You’re talking to Grandma Rhodes’ little boy, okay? If I did not study Scripture with her every Sunday, I got whupped upside the head with it.”
“I’ve met your grandmother,” Tony agreed. “I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit that she completely terrifies me.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” conceded Rhodey, inclining his head with a shrug. “I’m guessing you didn’t just interrupt a funeral-excuse me, memorial service,” he corrected himself before Tony could, “to discuss Biblical matters. This is about Stane. So, fill me in; what’s up?”
This felt good, Rhodey admitted to himself with guilty reluctance; it felt right, just like old times. Tony Stark and Jim Rhodes, partners in crime once more. Of course, in the old days Tony’s generally idiotic and ill advised schemes hadn’t normally included matters of such immense global and personal consequence. That was what hanging with the new Tony Stark-Tony 2.0-was about. That wasn’t to say that they didn’t have their fun as well, just like the old days. Tony was still Tony, after all; as crazy a sonofabitch as ever. It was difficult not to have fun around Tony.
“It’s something S.H.I.E.L.D. found buried deep while reviewing some of the company’s files,” Tony replied seriously. “I was too busy to check it out myself so I asked Jarvis to look into it for me instead, but I haven’t gone over the findings yet. Didn’t have time to, actually,” he said sourly. “My ass was hustled out the door to, oh yeah, attend this sham.”
“The Gospel of Obadiah,” chuckled Rhodey humorlessly. “Right. Not pretentious at all; not at all, you know, full of himself. So, what are we thinking? A contingency plan?”
“Not sure just yet,” Tony said quietly. “You know, I need more context. That’s what Jarvis is looking for in the company’s database. Maybe it really is nothing-Pepper wants me to think it’s nothing; if she could will it to be nothing, she would. But, call me paranoid, I’m just not as trusting as I used to be. Is there anything you remember about it, details that strike you as, you know, at all pertinent?”
“The usual stuff, you know?” Rhodey shrugged. “Obadiah was a prophet, so it’s all predictions of doom, holy smiting, Godly wrath-that sort of thing. There was one thing,” he said thoughtfully, a bit taken aback with himself that the memory would leap so vividly to mind after all these years. “I remember it said that the retribution against this one kingdom who betrayed the Israelites would be so complete, it would be worse than a thief that comes in the night because even a thief leaves something behind. I dunno, there was something about that part always gave me the creeps, you know?”
“Wow,” said Tony, clearly as dumbfounded as he was reluctantly impressed. “I just never knew you were so, like, Old Testament.”
“Nah,” replied Rhodey with a grin. “You’re the one who’s all ‘eye for an eye’ guy lately, right?” Tony’s laugh was dry, weary but genuine. “So, you coming back in here or what? Pepper’s gonna start getting suspicious,” he teased, “she might even try to come in there after you.”
“Trust me, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Tony snorted with gusto. “She’s learned better by now. Or at least, I think she has. I hope she hasn’t. Listen, the journalists outnumber the actual mourners by, like, five to one-“ Rhodey didn’t argue; sadly, it seemed to be the truth. “-so I think I’m just gonna chill for a while. But, you know, text me when it’s time to do the little pallbearer thing.”
“Tony,” Rhodey said, clearing his throat trying to look casual, thrusting his hand in his pocket and turning away, as a reporter passed him, eyeing him curiously, “in all seriousness, man, tell me that you’re at least planning on dealing with all this sometime in the near future.”
“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” was all Tony answered and the call was ended.
“Right,” sighed Rhodey, pressing his phone to his forehead in exasperation for a moment before shoving it back into his pocket. He felt the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder and craned his neck, expecting to see Rae standing there. Instead, the journalist with a hungry expression on her face.
“Say,” she said, barely able to contain her excitement, “aren’t you Captain Rhodes, Tony Stark’s best friend and confidant as well as liaison between Stark Industries and the United States armed services?”
“Nah, man.” He shook his head with cavalier indifference. “And that’s Lieutenant Colonel, for the record,” he corrected, making his way back to his seat. “And I ain't nobody's sidekick. Get it right next time.”
TBC
Peace, Ghani
Fandom: Iron Man (movieverse)
Author: Ghani Starkiller @ mrs_peel_fanfic
Rating: PG-13 for language and sexual situations
Disclaimer: Marvel and the filmmakers own 'em, I just play with 'em.
Characters: Tony, Rhodes, Pepper, flashback!Obadiah, some Happy, OFCs, Pepper/Tony, Rhodey/OFC
Summary: As Pepper urges Tony to accept Obadiah's betrayal, she herself grows closer in sympathy to Stane's grieving personal assistant, and becomes fearful for Tony's new lifestyle and her relationship with it and him. Meanwhile Stark and Rhodes slowly begin to uncover a plot coming from within Stark Industries that involves industrial espionage, revenge and the unsettling resurgence of a ghost from Tony's troubled past. And cybernetic ninjas.
A/N: This one turned out to be pretty Rhodey-centric; at least the last half is. It's something I wanted to do with the story at some point, but even this surprised me!
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1
Beautiful Story Graphic by jadeblood
2.
“Tony!” barked James Rhodes, taking the steps down to the garage workshop two at a time. Pepper had long since killed Tony’s loud music in an attempt to get him moving; it hadn’t worked and Rhodey had been the backup plan. “Get your ass in gear,” he commanded as he slipped through the empty door frame, happy not to have to monkey with the password encrypted lock that used to sit in the destroyed and as of yet unreplaced smart-glass the wall and door had been made from.
“Don’t do that,” Tony warned distractedly, not bothering to look up from the soldering station as his friend entered. “It freaks me out when you use that tone of voice, you know this; makes me feel like one of your cadets. Honestly, it’s terrifying.”
“And sometimes it’s the only thing you’ll respond to,” snorted Rhodey. He shook his head despairingly, taking in the state of Tony: the tousled hair, the sweat-blotched t-shirt, the grease-stained jeans. Why should it surprise him? Had he really expected this not to be a struggle? “Planning on getting ready anytime soon?” he asked with a sigh.
“Busy,” replied Tony plainly with a grunt. “Still have a couple of hours.” He shrugged, swiping his hand across his damp forehead, leaving a streak of grime behind. “Plenty of time.”
“Shit, Tony, it’s quarter after nine,” he told him with irritated incredulity. “The funeral’s in forty-five minutes! And, man, you really need to take a shower. Have you slept in, you know, the past week?”
“No time. Busy,” Tony repeated, heavy a weary sigh. “Pepper send you down here?”
“Truthfully, Tone?” Rhodey snickered, the ghost of a smile coming to his lips as he nudged a discarded pizza box with the toe of his dress shoe. “I just followed the funk ‘cause, honestly, it’s starting to get a bit nasty down here.”
“I meant,” Tony clarified brusquely, more intent on his work than on his words “did she badger you into this? I mean, Obie’s funeral-“ He quirked his mouth to the side. “Hardly the most thrilling weekend gig I can think of. You really want to spend your Saturday eulogizing a-a double-dealing lunatic?”
“I honestly cannot think of anything more agonizing,” Rhodey told him bluntly, “but I ain’t doing it for him, man, and you know it. Now get off your ass and, please, for the benefit of all of us, get in the shower. Really, it’d be a public service; I know I’ll thank you for it. You got forty minutes and counting, let’s go!”
“Civilian voice, please,” Tony chastened him playfully. He looked up at him for the first time, dragging his goggles back over his head as he glared at Rhodey in surprise, his words finally seeming to penetrate his preoccupied brain. “It’s after nine?” Rhodey nodded grimly. Could it really be possible that he had been laboring nonstop for a little over four hours? he thought as he threw his goggles aside, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his backside against the edge of the table. “Seriously?”
“No, man, I’m pulling your leg,” chuckled Rhodey with forced joviality. “Of course seriously,” he snapped. He shook his head, clearing away some junk from a nearby bench and sitting down as he gnawed on his bottom lip. This was just Tony, you know? And, considering the circumstances, his petulant behavior wasn’t completely unjustified. “Look, I understand why you wouldn’t be into this….”
Tony chuckled tiredly, rubbing his eyes, swiping at the sweat that rushed to flood the skin where the goggles had previously kept it back, at the corners of his eyes and below his brow. This wasn’t a talk he needed to have with Rhodes, not aloud; he knew that his friend understood how he felt. To change the subject, he inquired, “Does Hogan have the Audi geared up?” It was clear he was determined to treat this as nothing more than an expected public appearance.
“He prepped it just in case. We were all actually hoping you’d just let him drive you this time. You know, go for low-key for a change.” Rhodey stood and, as Tony crossed the room and passed him with an incredulously quirked eyebrow, gave his friend a heartening slap on the back. “Yeah,” he sighed, “I told Pepper it was a pipe dream. Knowing how you like to drive, man, I’m actually kinda uncomfortable with the thought of the speeding you’ll have to do in order to make it on time to the service.”
“Who knows,” Tony joked with the careless shrug of one shoulder, “maybe today’s the day I finally give Hogan a heart attack.”
“You’re dark, man,” chided Rhodey as the strolled up the flight of stairs together. “Plus, I’m telling you, Happy’s a stone; it’ll take a better man than you to break him.”
*~*~*
“Sir,” came Jarvis’ crisp voice as Tony was looking himself over, admiring his smart reflection in the mirror and adjusting his cufflinks as Pepper smoothed his stylish jacket across his shoulders. “I’ve confirmed and adjusted the initial findings in the search you asked me to perform, with some results I thought you might find interesting….”
“Tony, don’t you dare!” warned Pepper as she checked her watched. They were late enough as it was without any added distractions; the last thing she needed was another reason for Tony to drag his feet like a difficult child any more than he already was. “Whatever it is, it can wait,” she said sternly, ushering him towards the door. “Rhodey’s probably there already,” she murmured, shaking her head.
“I love it when you get all determined and pushy,” he flirted mischievously, walking backwards as she shooed him across the foyer and onto the front drive with a dogged waving motion of her arms. “Save it for now, Jarvis,” he instructed the artificial intelligence. “You look beautiful,” he told Pepper, his attention rapidly shifting back onto her. And she did, her pale skin offset by the tasteful deep purple ensemble she’d chosen; the wispy curls of her ginger hair, loose over her shoulders, was held off of her forehead with a elegantly bejeweled headband.
He felt the breath go out of his lungs as he studied her, like a sigh only much more dramatic. He realized that they were nearly perfectly color-coordinated, his tie and her dress, and for just a moment he absurdly wondered if she’d done that on purpose. He quickly dismissed the notion though its implications lingered. “Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” she replied with a wily but genuinely pleased smile, “and, yes, Happy was kind enough to give me that compliment.”
Tony grunted his dissatisfaction, his frown turning to a scowl as Pepper began to walk away from him, towards Hogan and the open door of the limousine. “You’re not riding with me?” he called, gesturing towards the Audi.
“Are you kidding?” she laughed, shuffling into the limo’s passenger seat beside Happy. “I’ve never had a death wish, Mr. Stark.”
*~*~*
So much had changed in those fateful three months in Afghanistan, and in the time since, so much Jim Rhodes had yet to allow himself even to address; he’d only just started coming to terms with how his friendship with Tony had begun to weaken into something he hadn’t at all been happy with.
The relief of Tony’s return had been tainted by an admittedly unfair resentment at his behavior; Rhodey was almost ashamed to recall how he’d taken the proclamation of the munitions decommissioning of Stark Industries as a personal insult, how Tony had reached out to him and he’d slapped him down. Internally, Rhodes’ confidence had been shaken, his perceived inability to protect Tony had been eating away at him, turning to guilt and misdirected spite; his relationship with his girl, Rae, had suffered. Stane’s funeral service was a peculiar and disquieting reminder of it all.
The phone in Rhodes’ pocket began to vibrate; it made only a faint and muffled droning sound, amplified by the acoustics of the church, which he attempted to ignore it, shrugging innocently at the older woman in the pew in front of him turned her head to glare at him over her shoulder. He smiled awkwardly as it began again, pretending to focus on the service with grave concentration when he felt the delicate touch of his Rae’s hand on his knee. He looked into her sweet face as she pursed her full lips, jerking her head pointedly, tossing her coiffed platinum hair against her high cheekbones and long, slender neck.
With her encouragement, finally he grudgingly yielded. “Tony,” he said in a harsh whisper as he fetched the mobile from his pocket and held it to his ear, “please tell me you are not calling me in the middle of a funeral.” This drew more stares and clumsily he stood, sidling his way to the isle and retreating to the back of the room.
“This is just the memorial service,” he answered dismissively. “It’s not like I rang you up over his body during the burial. Besides, Obie’s ex-wife’s gonna be reading from Auden forever, I swear. She should be thanking me: their divorce settlement was a joke, a pittance; she’ll get more from his estate in the next month than she would have seen in years. Plus, I have to say, she has really, really crappy taste in poetry. It’s not a judgment or anything; I’m just putting it out there.”
Rhodey rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to hide the smile that had leapt to his lips in spite of himself; he was imagining Tony rolling his eyes and rubbing his forehead exaggeratedly as he spoke. “Please tell me no one else can hear you,” he pleaded, aware that his friend was seated in the very first pew at the front of the room, directly before the altar podium where the ex-Mrs. Stane was presently reciting from. He tried to glance over the sea of heads but could not spot Tony.
“Don’t worry about them, everyone’s fine,” responded Tony casually. “They all think I’m an asshole already anyway. I’m kidding!” he added quickly before Rhodey could object. “I excused myself; I’m in the john. The vicar’s got some real interesting reading material in here, I’ll tell you. Listen, I need to ask you something because, honestly, it’s been killing me: Have you ever heard the word ‘Abdias’ before?”
Whatever Rhodey had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. Taken completely unaware, it took him a moment to answer. “Sure,” he replied with a shrug. “The Book of Obadiah, the shortest of all the gospels of the minor prophets in the Old Testament.”
For a full minute, there was nothing on the other end of the line apart from the sound of a stunned silence; Rhodes began to wonder if the call had been dropped. He almost jumped at the sound of Tony’s voice when he finally spoke again: “I’m frantically trying to figure out how you can know that, and the only explanation I’ve been able to come up with so far involves a priest’s cassock and a Thai stripper.”
“As usual, the way your mind works both astonishes and frightens me,” Rhodey told him dryly. “You’re talking to Grandma Rhodes’ little boy, okay? If I did not study Scripture with her every Sunday, I got whupped upside the head with it.”
“I’ve met your grandmother,” Tony agreed. “I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit that she completely terrifies me.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” conceded Rhodey, inclining his head with a shrug. “I’m guessing you didn’t just interrupt a funeral-excuse me, memorial service,” he corrected himself before Tony could, “to discuss Biblical matters. This is about Stane. So, fill me in; what’s up?”
This felt good, Rhodey admitted to himself with guilty reluctance; it felt right, just like old times. Tony Stark and Jim Rhodes, partners in crime once more. Of course, in the old days Tony’s generally idiotic and ill advised schemes hadn’t normally included matters of such immense global and personal consequence. That was what hanging with the new Tony Stark-Tony 2.0-was about. That wasn’t to say that they didn’t have their fun as well, just like the old days. Tony was still Tony, after all; as crazy a sonofabitch as ever. It was difficult not to have fun around Tony.
“It’s something S.H.I.E.L.D. found buried deep while reviewing some of the company’s files,” Tony replied seriously. “I was too busy to check it out myself so I asked Jarvis to look into it for me instead, but I haven’t gone over the findings yet. Didn’t have time to, actually,” he said sourly. “My ass was hustled out the door to, oh yeah, attend this sham.”
“The Gospel of Obadiah,” chuckled Rhodey humorlessly. “Right. Not pretentious at all; not at all, you know, full of himself. So, what are we thinking? A contingency plan?”
“Not sure just yet,” Tony said quietly. “You know, I need more context. That’s what Jarvis is looking for in the company’s database. Maybe it really is nothing-Pepper wants me to think it’s nothing; if she could will it to be nothing, she would. But, call me paranoid, I’m just not as trusting as I used to be. Is there anything you remember about it, details that strike you as, you know, at all pertinent?”
“The usual stuff, you know?” Rhodey shrugged. “Obadiah was a prophet, so it’s all predictions of doom, holy smiting, Godly wrath-that sort of thing. There was one thing,” he said thoughtfully, a bit taken aback with himself that the memory would leap so vividly to mind after all these years. “I remember it said that the retribution against this one kingdom who betrayed the Israelites would be so complete, it would be worse than a thief that comes in the night because even a thief leaves something behind. I dunno, there was something about that part always gave me the creeps, you know?”
“Wow,” said Tony, clearly as dumbfounded as he was reluctantly impressed. “I just never knew you were so, like, Old Testament.”
“Nah,” replied Rhodey with a grin. “You’re the one who’s all ‘eye for an eye’ guy lately, right?” Tony’s laugh was dry, weary but genuine. “So, you coming back in here or what? Pepper’s gonna start getting suspicious,” he teased, “she might even try to come in there after you.”
“Trust me, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Tony snorted with gusto. “She’s learned better by now. Or at least, I think she has. I hope she hasn’t. Listen, the journalists outnumber the actual mourners by, like, five to one-“ Rhodey didn’t argue; sadly, it seemed to be the truth. “-so I think I’m just gonna chill for a while. But, you know, text me when it’s time to do the little pallbearer thing.”
“Tony,” Rhodey said, clearing his throat trying to look casual, thrusting his hand in his pocket and turning away, as a reporter passed him, eyeing him curiously, “in all seriousness, man, tell me that you’re at least planning on dealing with all this sometime in the near future.”
“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” was all Tony answered and the call was ended.
“Right,” sighed Rhodey, pressing his phone to his forehead in exasperation for a moment before shoving it back into his pocket. He felt the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder and craned his neck, expecting to see Rae standing there. Instead, the journalist with a hungry expression on her face.
“Say,” she said, barely able to contain her excitement, “aren’t you Captain Rhodes, Tony Stark’s best friend and confidant as well as liaison between Stark Industries and the United States armed services?”
“Nah, man.” He shook his head with cavalier indifference. “And that’s Lieutenant Colonel, for the record,” he corrected, making his way back to his seat. “And I ain't nobody's sidekick. Get it right next time.”
TBC
Peace, Ghani