Debt (Chapter 14)
Title: Debt (14/17)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: FrostIron
Warnings: Some violence
Spoilers: Not for Avengers
Summary: Tony Stark shouldn't find Loki fascinating, but he does, because all he’s ever wanted to do is take things apart to see how they work. Besides, he’s never been any good at following the rules.
New? Story starts here. You can also read HERE on AO3 (link goes to first chapter)
Standing in his workshop, looking as if he owns the place, is a tall figure in a cloak, face hidden behind a metal mask. His hands are also clad in steel. A faint spiders-web of energy is crawling across the metal’s surface, and Tony feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. The air tastes of static, like a warning of a thunderstorm. Tony doesn’t need the screens’ flashing messages to know that this means Danger. He’s vulnerable, caught out without his suit on - or even operational, damn it - and one arm out of action. His brain extrapolates forwards of its own accord, and he doesn’t like the picture he gets of where this is going.
“It seems you have something of mine,” the figure says, pointing one steel glove at the machine on the table. The movement brings the spitting energy close to Tony’s face, and he has to fight not to flinch back. It looks like the power he saw inside the robot’s wiring, like a hybrid of electricity and magic, like something that could stop his heart in seconds.
“And you are…?” Tony asks, to avoid articulating this thought. He knows that SHIELD operatives are probably swarming down here as he speaks, following the howl of the alarms, and if he can stall for time he might just make it out of here without needing any kind of major surgery.
The figure tips his head, metal making a slight grinding sound. “Doctor Doom, at your service.”
Tony narrows his eyes at that. “See, I bet you made that name up for yourself. You ought to be careful with that; not everything sounds as cool as you think it does.” Cheap jokes aside, he’s more worried now. These self-styled villains are always tricky to deal with; they’re wrapped up in their crazy ideas of fame and power and glory and it makes them volatile, dangerous.
“You ought to be careful who you pick fights with,” Doom counters, stepping a little closer. In the background, there’s a scurry of feet on steps, and out of the corner of his eye Tony sees the first of the SHIELD agents appear outside the door, punching in the access code. For once, he’s glad to see them. Doom raises a hand, curling his fingers into a fist.
The door beeps in distress, and stays shut.
Tony feels a faint flicker of panic. If his technology fails him -
There’s a sharp crack as a soldier outside tries firing his gun directly into the glass wall to the side of the door, but of course this is the place where SHIELD decided to first test its blast-proof glass. Bullets have no effect on it; there’s not even a scratch. The door’s reinforced, too, because apparently the research done in here makes it a top security area. Tony’s fairly effectively trapped. Doom advances on him, metal clanking (badly put together, Tony thinks as his brain scrambles for a solution. Should leave more joint space, or it’ll limit manoeuvrability).
“You and your little team have caused some problems for me recently,” Doom says, menace lacing his voice. “And you, in particular, seem to be in my way.”
Tony backs up a few steps until he’s up against the wall. His suit’s empty hangar taunts him; if only he had it now. He feels exposed. “Why me?” he asks, as he scans the room for any means of attack. “I mean, I’m honoured and all, but I’m guessing you have reasons.”
“You disrupted my plans. If it weren’t for you, I could have taken over so much more peacefully.” He almost sighs on that last word, and Tony can practically taste crazy in the air. “After all, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have to fight with the Avengers at all. I could just take control.”
The connection forms in Tony’s mind immediately. “Those leaves - ”
“I would have had you all kneeling at my feet,” Doom says, and slams one hand down on the workbench next to him. The computer screen there fizzes, static dazzling across it. Tony winces, thinking about magnetic fields that close to technology. That screen’s never going to work right again. “But now that option is gone. So it seems that I have to eliminate you, and the rest of your team.”
Tony tries to edge sideways inconspicuously. “Seems a little extreme, don’t you think? Can’t say I’m a huge fan of this idea myself.”
He hears a chuckle from behind the mask which doesn’t comfort him at all. The echo of madness lies around its edges. “I didn’t really think you would be.”
Doom raises his hands, and the energy crackling on his gloves has built to a steady glow, spitting sparks. Tony feels the static wash across his skin even from a few yards away, the hairs on his skin rising of their own accord. “I’d like to say this will be painless, but unfortunately, that wouldn’t be entirely true.”
He releases the bolt of energy, aimed right at Tony.
Luckily, Tony’s ready for it. That’s the good thing about megalomaniacs - they love to talk. And it distracts them (and really, Tony should know. The same thing’s happened to him enough times). As Doom fires at him, Tony ducks and lunges sideways. The prototype for his new suit is standing under the spare assembly rig, just a little way over. If he can get there, he can fight back. But he’s not moving quick enough, not with one arm immobilised. He crouches behind a bank of thick power cables that run along the edge of his workstation, humming with electricity. He’s hoping that the theories his brain is spinning out of thin air are correct. Doom snarls in frustration, and aims at him again. He can hear the crackle of power building, and then there’s a flash and a shower of sparks as the energy swings off target, striking a ceiling light.
Tony lets himself smile for a second, listening to the rush of his own breath, loud in his ears. He was right: the magnetic field from the electrical cables disrupted the blast of energy. As the broken light fitting throws down a rain of sparks, making the shadows in the room jump, Tony crawls across the floor, and just makes it to the bench next to his prototype as Doom blasts apart the desk he’d been hiding by. Tony casts his eyes around, but he’s stuck. He can’t stand still to put the suit on when he’s this exposed. He probably couldn’t get into it anyway, because one arm’s in a cast which won’t fit inside the metal panelling. But he might not have the time to think of a way round that, because Doom is stepping forward, cape sweeping through the dust that’s been shaken down from the ceiling. Tony pushes himself up to his feet, because he can’t see what else to do, and raises his head, defiant.
- - -
There’s a sudden flash, and a boom like air molecules splitting apart under high energy shakes the room around them, and Loki is suddenly there, eyes glowing hot with magic and fury, staff in hand. Doom turns, as much of a spin as possible in the confines of his metal suit, and Tony can just hear him inhale in surprise. He allows himself to breathe a little.
“I thought we agreed, Doom, not to interfere in each other’s work?” Loki says, and if Tony wasn’t 90% sure that Loki was on his side, he’s have been finding something to hide behind, because he’s never heard anyone sound so angry before. “I think I’d count showing up at the Avengers base as some rather strong interference, wouldn’t you?”
“Ah, but I thought we could share them? That was the deal we had before. Just because you reneged on it - ” Doom has to break off as Loki swings his staff up and sends a pulse of magic his way, forcing him to dodge to the left. The blast strikes the wall and shatters outwards, leaving a scorch mark blistered into the paintwork.
“I told you to keep out of my way.” Loki steps forwards, his whole body crackling with raw power. It’s like watching two lions lining up for a fight. The air tastes of smoke, overlaying the sharp tang of pure power, and the display screens are fizzing with static as the backblast of magic washes over them. Tony watches just long enough to see Doom let fly with another bright streak of power, seeing Loki step out of its way as easily as if he’s dancing. It reminds him of seeing Loki spin in the middle of a battlefield while fighting against their team. That seems like a very long time ago now.
With the two of them occupied like this, he scrambles past the bench and finally reaches his prototype. It’s untested and some of the armour plating isn’t really attached yet, but it’s all he’s got. Hopefully all the major areas are covered. He’s counting on the new underlayer working as it should, dispersing magic across its surface. He types his access code into the panel set into the wall beside the suit, relieved when the light above it flashes once and turns green. If that hadn’t worked, if it had somehow been disrupted by Doom’s magic, he’d have had to hack into his own computer system to release the deadlock on the suit. He feels a wash of heat across the back of his neck as another magical blast sweeps through the workshop, although he didn’t see who it came from. He turns, to check what’s happening, and almost freezes, panic clawing at him, because he sees Loki on the ground, struggling to push himself up. Doom closes in, and then makes the mistake of leaning closer. Quick as a striking snake, Loki drives his staff upwards into Doom’s chest with a clang and a shriek of metal sliding on metal, forcing him backwards, off-balance. Doom staggers for a second, ungainly in his metal armour, reeling from the strength of the blow.
Now Loki’s back up, the air around him shimmering as he pulls power to him, and Tony taps quickly at the wall panel, starting the power-up of his suit. He needs to help out, even with one arm out of action, and he’s almost got a plan. He snags a hand-saw from the bench, and, trying not to wince, begins to saw at the cast on his arm. It’s slow work, especially left-handed, and it takes him far too long to get the cast open, working at an awkward angle and trying to avoid slicing his arm open in the process. It hurts like hell, every movement jostling the broken bone, but there’s little he can do about that. The cast won’t fit into the suit. He’ll just have to take the consequences for it later, if he gets out of here in once piece. He glances up, and outside the workshop, he sees the SHIELD operatives gathered against the glass, watching. They can’t get in; in fact, they seem to have given up trying. Fury must have joined them at some point, because he’s there, arms folded, looking thunderous. Several of the agents seem to be yelling into headsets, probably questioning why their supposedly secure criminal is, once again, not in his cell.
Taking a deep breath, and clenching his jaw against the pain radiating up his shoulder from his arm, he lines himself up with the suit and taps the green light on the wall panel. He counts himself lucky that he managed to transfer his prototype over here while he’d been out in the city, fighting against the robots. If he hadn’t, it would still have been lying on a bench, unable to assemble itself. The machines descend from the ceiling, strapping him in to the suit, locking the joints together with a familiar, comforting whirr. It feels very flimsy compared to his normal layers of red and gold, far too light and delicate to go straight into a combat situation, but needs must. He’s got nothing else that’ll help him now; it’s this or nothing.
The armour clicks into place, and as the faceplate descends, his HUD flicks on before his eyes.
A/N: Okay so here’s where I need to do a little bit of explaining.
I’ve never actually read any Marvel comics. They predate me by quite a long way, and I’m fairly new to the fandom, and as I result I only know movie canon. But as I was writing this, I realised that this would tie together several of my plot elements (and I do mean realised; I started this fic with no plan whatsoever and literally had an epiphany about this ending while in the shower WHOOPS TMI) but I knew that the character I needed - good with tech, known for magic etc. - was too close to Doctor Doom to look convincingly original. Then I did some Wikipedia-ing and saw the whole mind control thing that apparently he does (??) and that kind of sealed the deal. So it’s probably best of you consider this like an AU movie-verse version of him, because obviously he’s not going to be in-character seeing as I have no idea what I’m doing.
And as an additional note: we’re into the home straight. As some of you probably spotted, we’re on a countdown now, three chapters to go. If everything goes to plan, we’ll be finishing on Thursday next week. This is actually making me pretty sad; I’m going to miss this fic!
Thanks to everyone who’s reading and who’s stuck at it this long. Only a little way to go now. Next chapter up on Sunday, unless I fall off the horse doing cross-country and break something important