Indistinguishable From Magic(2/?)
Title: Indistinguishable From Magic(2/?)
Author: Christmas Pterodactyl
Rating: PG-13 to R
Word count: 5,964 words
Disclaimer: The author makes no claims of ownership to any material that may be recognized by the public. Additionally, he makes no income or profits from this exercise.
Spoilers: Primarily Episode 03x03 - Remedial Chaos Theory
Summary: “That's the secret of the universe, you know. Billions of people, making billions of choices, creating infinite Earths. Some so similar to each other that you could spend a lifetime searching for any difference. Others so radically different, they defy comprehension.” - Owlman
Notes: Chapter two, wherein we visit the scene of the crime.
Sitting in small room with a modern steel table and uncomfortable chair was the last thing Winger ever expected to be doing this evening. While he wasn’t serious about the Page Three Girl crack to Britta, he had been invited to a post-opening ceremonies after-party in his honor. And there was the distinct possibility he’d have some companionship for the evening. A part of his mind shot back to the short albeit leggy brunette would’ve been an excellent candidate; but the arrest put a damper on that idea as he was now leaning in a metal chair that was digging into his back.
In some sense, maybe chickens were coming home to roost with these bogus murder charges. The past several years had resulted in the deaths of several men and women who threatened him or the world. And in some sense, he had murdered people like his mentor and family friend Alan Conner aka the Iron Monger. Or maybe Cory Radison, the man who caused injury and harm to thousands with the use of the Rich Stephenson’s Military Drones. The final fight with that fool had been the first true team-up between him and his friend Troy. Barnes had been co-opted by “Rad’s” software overrides in the Mark II suit, which had almost killed Winger several times that night. It was by divine intervention that the War Machine armor’s software had been returned to normal in the end, or there would have been massive loss of life that would have caused no end of guilt to the Lieutenant Colonel.
But Barnesy wasn’t here now. Britta wasn’t here now. Hell, his lawyer wasn’t here now, and he was about to face true grilling. He didn’t want to murder Alan, or Radison (though both men had it coming). Winger didn’t want to be a killer; he had been forced into taking their lives to save himself and perhaps millions of others in the long run.
The door opened and in walked said leggy brunette. Holding a file folder,and a tablet computer, she placed them on the table, pulled out the chair opposite Jeff, and sat down with an untold grace. Shiny brown hair parted to the right, eyes as blue as sapphires, pale skin; she was a beauty, and having only spoken to her for a few moments, he was still pretty turned on by that sexy little accent.
“I’m sorry I had to do what I did in front of the public Mr. Winger.”
The tall man remained stone-faced for a moment, steepled his fingers, and took several moments to gather his thoughts. “I’m used to the publicity.”
“Indeed, you seem to love the attention.”
He smirked. “Can’t help it, the cameras love me.”
“Yes, the footage of you killing ten security guards truly captured you at your finest.”
“Excuse me?”
Annie paused a moment, then pulled out a picture of chalk outlines on the ground outside the vault. He looked at it, then up at her. “Let me back up. Where were you at 1:30 this morning?”
“On a private jet crossing the Atlantic.” Annie had her favorite notepad out, along with a purple pen, and started writing down everything he said in her unique form of shorthand. “Took off at seven last night…this morning…something like that. I wasn’t here though.”
“You have witnesses?”
“Two pilots, three rather lovely attendants, and my personal assistant slash CEO of my company.” This was common knowledge; she’d already checked his alibi.
“Can you explain this?” She pushed the second photo in the file folder across the table. Winger took it and hint of confusion, she noted, sparked in his face. He saw himself looking at his watch near what seemed to be a stone sarcophagus.
“Photoshop?”
“Mr. Winger, this was taken at 8:51pm, Thursday night at the British Museum.”
“Not possible. I was still in New York. Finalizing plans on…, working on something.”
Annie nodded, eyes back on the parchment colored pages of the note pad. “Do you have witness-”
“Again, yes.” The girl was starting to annoy him. But he was truly puzzled by her questions. “Look, it’s not physically possible to be in two different places at the same time.”
“Unless you were in your suit of armor.”
“Little absurd, bringing a powered exoskeleton to an investors meeting.”
“You’re a showman.”
“Narcissistic to a fault.” He quipped. “But I guarantee you I wasn’t in the Eastern Hemisphere until early this morning.”
She was getting nowhere, and he was getting antsy. She didn’t have a lot of time now, before his barrister arrived to stop any important questions from being asked. “I don’t believe you.”
“Doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. If all you have is a supposed photo of me, then you’re really reaching. But I know I wasn’t here.”
She sighed, knowing she was about to show him damning evidence that may make him stumble. And she needed answers, because the item he’d stolen was something no man should have. “Check how ‘supposed’ this is?” She pushed an application icon and then the play button, and the footage of the theft and attack started. Winger watched in fascination as, what appeared to be him or someone looking very much like him punching a very solid vault door with a bare fist. Taking the computer pad in his hand, Jeff studied the video and was more than surprised by how much damage “he” was doing to something so massive.
“That’s not right.”
“Just wait. You get to see who the chalk outlines belong to.” Edison said under her breath. “You get to see yourself murder ten good men.”
“That’s not me!”
“Look, you can save yourself a lot of trouble if you just confess.”
“Ha! I’m not that stupid. And I didn’t do anything. Because that’s. Not. Me!” He put down the tablet, and pushed it back over to his interrogator.
Shaking her head, Annie paused the footage of Jeff Winger strangling a man with only one hand. “You. Are. Guilty.”
“And that’s not me.” He gave her a steely glare, quirked an eyebrow, then smiled and leaned back against the uncomfortable chair. He held up the clear, focused photo of himself in the museum. “Look. Right there.” Jeff placed the photo back on the table, pushed it halfway between them and tapped on the forehead the man in the photo’s brow.
Taking the photo and squinting her eyes to get proper focus, Annie saw that the man in the photo had a completely unblemished face. She then looked up at the man in front of her, and saw that Jeff in fact had a small vertical scar perpendicular to his eyebrow. “Wha….”
“I need my phone.”
“Um, I hate to break this to you Mr. Winger. But unlike your American police procedural dramas, you don’t get a phone call.”
“I didn’t ask for that. I asked for my phone.”
Annie clasped her hands in front of her. “And why, pray tell, do you want your mobile?”
“Because I can prove that the person in the video is not me in like…five seconds with it.”
Now she leaned back in her chair, emulating him with a knowitall smirk. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a ‘Get Out of Jail App.’”
“You do know that the Prime Minister and the Queen owe me a favor or two, right?” He tried a different tactic.
Annie remained unimpressed with the name dropping.
“Please, feel free to call Number Ten. I’m sure David wouldn’t mind hearing from me this late.” He paused, his grin turning Cheshire cat sized. “Actually, he’s at the gala event I’m missing.” Edison was silent, indecision crisscrossing her mind, wondering if this ploy of his was legitimate or just a lie.
“If I give you your phone, what do you plan on doing?”
“Well, for starters, I’m going to download the video and send it through to my own servers and have it analyzed. That’ll take maybe forty-three seconds to give you complete details on my evil twin here. Second, I can probably tell you exactly how he was able to punch into what sounds like one of the most private vaults in the world. And third….”
She was intrigued by the idea. Skeptical, but intrigued. “Yes…?”
“I can snap a photo of you to tweet. Just think.” His arms were stretched up in the air, gesturing as if putting her name in the stars. Jeff halted though, looking over at her. “Didn’t catch your name by the way.”
“Annie Edison. Inspector.”
“Just think, Annie Edison, the woman who broke Iron Man’s heart.”
“Oh please.”
“Fine. Just the first two.”
This wouldn’t fly with Chief Bennett. And she knew this was probably going to get her in trouble with so many other people up and down the chain-of-command. But Annie also knew this was Jeff Winger, and people were going to bend over backwards to accommodate the so-called superhero. What seemed like an eternity of indecisiveness was actually a few seconds in real time, and she made the decision that could very well get her fired or promoted.
“Okay.”
_______
The extremely thin and oddly designed phone was brought into the interrogation room with a rapidity unheard of in the entire department. Annie made sure, when she arrested Winger, that all his items were scanned and deemed non-lethal. So giving him the phone wasn’t going to hurt her physically, but it could kill the career that she’d thrown her life into. All of this was beyond regulations, and while she was going to be given a wider berth in matters of jurisdiction there was a chance this could bite her in the ass when all was said and done.
The small, unassuming device made its way into Wingers hand, and he was instantly typing with his thumbs at speeds unheard of. She knew the man well enough, in that anything he owned remotely electronic was going to be far more advanced than anything she’d ever seen or probably ever owned or would own. So involved was she in her thoughts that she was only dimly aware of his voice.
“Can I borrow your ‘pad?” She looked up at him, and then nodded dumbly as he grabbed it from the table. Fiddling with the small device he humorously called a phone, Jeff surprisingly connected the two. Instantly, the Winger Industries logo appeared on the screen of the larger tablet computer, and Jeff swept through the various screens and files looking for what he needed. “This won’t take long.”
“Only the video footage, Mr. Winger.”
“Oh Princess, I’m so disappointed, I thought you trusted me.”
“Excuse me!”
“Whoa, just kidding. Only taking the video footage.”
She gave him a pointed look than a roll of the eyes. “Mr. Winger, I’m doing this as a courtesy.”
Winger looked up at her from his work, smirking. “Well, if you really want, I’ll add you as a friend on Facebook. But that might raise a few eyebrows.”
“Just get what you need and let me have my tablet back.” He looked at the screen on his phone, saw the file had transferred successfully, and disengaged both devices. Annie took the tablet and knocked on the door.
“Give me thirty seconds to upload this.”
“Take your time.” The door opened, revealing one of the arresting officers, to whom Annie handed the tablet to. “Check for any virus’ please.”
“Wow, talk about trust. That might be a point off on the guest survey.”
“This is a serious matter, thank you very much. I’m giving you access to information-”
“That you would have had to give me anyway. And no, I didn’t bug or tap Her Majesty’s secure computer networks that are running on a few hundred Winger Industries servers with proprietary software that I co-wrote with Microsoft. Inspector, give me a little credit.” He went back to his phone, tapping at the thin plastic screen again. “Besides, David will probably approve it.”
“David? You’re really on first name basis with the Prime Minister?”
“It’s really that hard to believe?” He cocked an eyebrow, inquisitively.
“Just get to work.”
“Hot date tonight, or just married to the job?”
“Neither.”
“Then what’s the rush?”
“The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can get back to tracking down the real thief.”
“A-ha! I’m not a suspect.”
“I never said that!” She back-pedaled, knowing that it was in fact true.
“Didn’t have to. Besides, the mainframe just came back with the program. Got your tablet?”
“You know I don’t.”
Jeff shrugged his shoulders and then walked around to her side, moving much too close for her comfort. Granted, his presence wasn’t revolting, but she was tired and hungry and running on little more than a Cobb salad from earlier in the day, thus cranky. “Okay, proving further that this isn’t me, the video on the camera did get several glimpses of ‘my’ face. They’re only a few frames here and there, but as you can see, the man on the video doesn’t have a single scar on him.” He zoomed the image out while forwarding the video to another spot, where his doppelganger began battering the door with his bare knuckles.
“I’ve seen this part.”
“I know. But….” He paused the image, then typed or pushed something, zooming in on the shoulder of the thief. “This is interesting.”
“What is?”
“Okay, your case hinges on me being at the scene of the crime and going berserk on a door that’s got to be a minimum, MINIMUM of one foot of solid steel and probably some concrete or other super-dense material. And while it could POSSIBLY be some of my tech, I guarantee you that I haven’t miniaturized or made my armor modular enough to the point where I could just wear it on one arm.”
Jeff paused to make sure Edison was following along with him. “…Continue….” She prompted.
His eyes continued scanning the picture “Two things. Look at the shoulder, the slight bulge where the arm connects to the socket. Now look at my awesome shoulder. If I was the man in that video, I’d have the same bulge here, right now.”
“That could be a part of your armor that you took off your suit.” She said, looking at
“No, it can’t. My suits aren’t built like that. It’s either the whole thing or nothing. None of them are capable of being used in pieces.” She was tentatively following along, staring a bit too long at his chiseled, scruffy jaw. “Let alone there’s no connections to my…son of a bitch.”
“Language!”
“No! Look at his shirt.”
“What about his shirt?”
“A shirt like that, would be thinner cloth then what I’ve currently got on right now. Right?”
“I guess.” She didn’t know what he was getting at, but his inexplicable revelation had certainly sent him into hysterics. He was suddenly more alive than whenever she’d seen him do press interviews or heard him talk on the television or radio. But wherever Winger was going with this, he was excited enough that it made her curiosity pique higher.
He set the miniature phone down on the table, and then stood up, facing her. She had to crane her neck up painfully at him, being so close to him at the moment. “What do you see?” Jeff’s hands worked the buttons on his dress shirt, opening it quickly.
“Your chin.”
“Eyes forward Inspector.” And Annie’s eyes traveled down his chest, not even attempting to disguise how she was looking at him like a lioness sizing up a gazelle. They stopped dead center, at his sternum, where she saw a blue glow. The diminutive brunette was staring straight at an cerulean light that shone faintly through his shirt. The circle was covered with lines of varied lengths, focused primarily on an upside-down triangle inside a similar shape with two spokes on each side. Something so obvious, but hidden in plain sight by the man’s either magnanimous or outrageous actions and attitudes. “There’s no glow.”
“What is that…thing in your chest?” She went to touch it with her own hand but was stopped by his grip.
“It’s…it’s a terrible privilege.”
Annie brushed his hand aside and tapped the smooth surface of Jeff’s chest implant. “What is it?”
“It’s what my evil twin without the goatee doesn’t have.” Jeff pulled up his phone, sighing at the small item. “Show me the crime scene.”
Snapped out of her reverie, she crossed her arms defiantly. “Out of the questions.”
“Your choice. Abed, dial up Mr. Cameron and put him on speaker phone?”
Annie was surprised by the sound of a disembodied voice, “At once, sir. Would you like his private line or his private line or his official line?”
Taking a deep breath, Annie risked talking to the person who suddenly seemed to be on the other end of the line. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Abed.”
“He’s not a mister.” Jeff smirked at the absurdity.
“Shall I cancel the call sir?”
“Yeah. He’s not a mister. Hell, he isn’t even a person.”
“You expect me to believe… who are we talking to?”
“A dumb AI.”
“He’s dumb? That’s not very nice to say.”
“I hardly lack intelligence, Inspector Edison. Mr. Winger simply means that I have constraints on my programming that limit what I can do.”
“That’s a computer? I’m talking to a computer!?”
“It scares people the first time. Now, field trip?” Again, the eternity of indecision became her entire world. She was now letting a murder suspect, with a talking computer, take him to the scene of a crime that he apparently now had nothing and yet everything to do with.
“Fine. But don’t touch anything. At all.”
Winger snapped into a mock salute, before grabbing his coat and following her out the stuffy interrogation room they’d been cooped up in. “Oh. A.B.E.D.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Tell Britta I need my briefcase; have her meet us at….”
“The British Museum.”
“At once, sir.”
Annie turned was still wondering about this computer she was talking to. “Abed, he’s a computer?”
“AI, artificial intelligence. He’s pure computer code with too dry of a sense of humor. Advanced Binary Enhancement Driver.”
“How are you talking to him?”
“The phone.” He held it up, jiggling it in his hand, fingers not quite gripping it.
“I gathered that.” Her voice was dripping with derision and annoyance
“Why the stupid question then?”
She sniffed and rolled her eyes. This whole situation was getting ridiculous. “There is no such thing as a stupid question.”
So he tested the limits. “Are we there yet?”
_______
For the second time within twenty-four hours, she was in one of her places in the entire world. That it had been desecrated so horribly, between the multiple homicides and theft, made her cringe. But Annie had vowed to herself to find the man who did this, whether it was in fact tall, handsome, incredibly intelligent Jeff Winger.
The drive from Wethersfield to the British Museum was quiet, long, and somewhat awkward for the unlikely companions. Annie wouldn’t say she was nervous, but even having him prattle on about anything would have helped break tension. After all, it wasn’t everyday she drove around with a “superhero.”
Their arrival was discreet, with little fanfare, save for Winger’s blonde traveling companion from earlier, waiting patiently for her employer with a black and gold metallic suitcase. He thanked her with a nod, easily grabbing it from the ground and hefting it along with them. Edison stopped briefly as well, grabbing an adjunct by the elbow and pulling him to the side. With a few quick words, Ms. Perry had her very own tour guide and the few remaining investigators were pulled away from the crime scene, leaving Edison and Winger to their work.
“What’s in the case?” Jeff raised an eyebrow, surprised by her query.
“Help.”
“I don’t think I’m following here.”
He looked back at her, his face aghast. “I thought you called yourself an investigator? You’re in my demographic, you can’t seriously not know what’s in the case.” She shrugged her shoulders, her brow wrinkled with what was known in the MDP as her trademark inquisitive look. “Okay, since you apparently don’t pay attention to what I do…”
“How inflated of an ego do you have?”
“Moving on, this is gonna help solve the case.” He stepped on a large steel triangle in the middle of the case, and the lid popped open seven inches, and the large container sprung to life, flipping vertically and opening upright with two handles and various pieces of metal spiking out at odd angles. Leaning forward, Winger gripped both upraised handles and pulled the entire contraption up, stepping on the bottom lip of the case to hold it in place.
Akin to a technologically advanced non-musical accordion, Jeff pulled the two handles out wide, wherein a full chest piece appeared as the handles changed into steel gauntlets. Plates shifted and Annie’s eyes widened as a shining cyan light emitted from Jeff’s sternum. The arc reactor flared as power coursed through what was now a fully armored Winger. She noted the armor’s color, but primarily black with gold trim, not the red and gold he was known for. The plates finished shifting, and a frame surrounded his face. The well-known faceplate slid down and the eyes shone a pure white.
He turned to look at her, amused slightly by her staring at him in wonderment, mouth slightly agape. She visibly shook her head, coming around quickly, and looked him up and down. Despite adding only a few inches to his already tall stature, Jeff seemed even more imposing to her now more than ever.
“That was….”
“I get that a lot.” He said with a grin. His voice had an electronic undertone, as he spoke, and the Iron Man’s gaze was penetrating. She felt as if his eyes were piercing right through her to her very soul, and it was both exhilarating and disturbing at the same time. “Okay, let’s see what’s going on here.” Jeff’s eyes adjusted quickly to the heads-up display, and motioned over to the mute on the microphone that let others hear him. “A.B.E.D, start recording over everything, scan room for any devices that are transmitting, and give me a wireframe of the room. Standard grid pattern used by MDP personnel.”
“Very good sir, shall I turn off external speakers when I have information?”
“Only for proprietary information, we’re cooperating with the good guys. Oh, and see if you can’t get me a list of everything that would be behind something this big.” He indicated with his eyes at the large, broken vault door in front of him.
“Very well sir. The request will take several minutes.”
Annie watched him for several moments as his head made slight motions. She couldn’t imagine what exactly he was doing, but then, she’d never had a suspect like him or been in a situation like this. “Still there?”
He switched on the microphone with the flick of his eyes, the sophisticated software in his helmet tracking all eye movement. “Yeah. Where do you want to start?” Edison was unsure how to answer the question, and then shrugged.
“The door.”
“Good idea.” Iron Man shifted his gaze over to the door, and began scanning, while Annie struggled to find a way to make herself useful. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure what more she could do save for to await any results that her new cohort could find.
He started with the rather large door that sat off its hinges. Already his HUD had the factory specifications and details pulled up and on the right side of his vision. The round door, fifteen feet in diameter and a foot and a half wide, did indeed have a large hole punched through to the other side. Already, the scanners of the Iron Man armor were measuring actual weight from microscopic depressions in the floor from where it had sat, or landed.
“When was this installed?”
Edison took her notepad out, from where Jeff couldn’t tell. “Museum staff had it installed in 1947, two years after the War.”
“Was this place hit?”
“I know you’re not from around here, but just about everywhere in London took damage. After the war, renovations and reconstruction was standard. The Museum itself was hit by two high explosive bombs, so when reconstruction began they put in a new vault for their Special Collection.”
“Makes me wonder if Dad had something to do with it.” He trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. There was still much he didn’t know about William Winger’s involvement with the Allied Forces during the Second World War. For that matter, would the man have even cared for such a thing like art?
“Come again?”
“Nothing.” Jeff continued his scans, moving towards the large hole. Made with a fist, by consistently hitting one spot over and over, he still couldn’t wrap his head around how a person could actually do it. “Enhance section 56-12, zoom by 200x magnification.” The stainless steel around the edges of the hole zoomed into view, and Winger instantly noticed the detail that was nagging at him. “There’s no blood.” He turned to the woman, who had simply been watching the metal man work without an excess of motion. Her arms crossed, she nodded in assent.
“I know.”
“That’s not possible. Anyone who could punch through something like this with that much force would have to leave…something. Broken bone, skin, tendon, anything.”
“That’s what has us confused as well, and why I’m now asking you for help.”
“Officially?”
“Not yet, but I imagine it’ll be approved.”
“Okay.” He whirled back around, and Annie could feel the manic energy return.
“A.B.E.D., zoom in on section 62-12, 500 times magnification.” The virtual display lit-up again, this time with information on metallurgical specs of the door as well as information on stress testing. He absorbed the information, but he kept looking at the cross-section. “What have we here?” Jeff motioned the young woman closer. “Bring a lift card.”
“What do you need that for?”
“Metallic dust.”
“I don’t think I’m following.”
“Obviously not.” He didn’t want to sound to condescending, but it always came out that way. At least, that’s what Britta told him time and again. “Okay, there’s no flesh and blood, because this guy was either wearing a gauntlet like, or…oh now that is impressive.”
“What’s impressive?”
“Oh God, how did I not see it!” He knocked the bottom of his palm against his helmeted head. “It’s not a gauntlet. It’s his whole arm!” Jeff looked at Annie again. “Did your teams take any samples from the hole?”
“I don’t think so. We mostly took fingerprints from the areas the suspect actually put a hand on. That is how fingerprinting works.”
“Okay, couple things. First, I’m aware of how fingerprinting works. I watched NCIS. Second, while that makes sense, you need to lift the residue and metallic shavings from the hole. We need a full metallurgical analysis.”
“What kind of metal is it?”
He stopped. “I don’t know. Mind lending me a card? Wait, you’re going to have to do it, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Stepping aside, Annie took the samples, and gave one of them to her new partner. “I’m trusting you with this.”
“Trust is my middle name.”
“It’s Tobias.”
“You do pay attention.” Gripping the sample, a compartment on his hip opened, where he slid it into place. “I need to get this to my lab.”
“You’re going back to New York tonight? Oh no, that’s not happening. You’re not a suspect anymore Winger, but you’re also not free to leave the country quite yet.”
He moved quickly, quicker than she thought he could, in front of her and glared down. She couldn’t feel any heat radiating off the suit, but she felt the imaginary heat off the white-hot glare from the small eye slits in his helm. “You’re going to stop me?”
She summoned up as much courage as she could. “No, but your honor will.” And she sounded so cheesy saying what she just said.
“Yeah…I’m gonna humor you on this one. But I still need my lab. I’ll e-mail you my location, but I only have one factory in the area, so I’ll probably set up shop there. Don’t think the Langham would want a complete refit of its penthouse with holographic emitters.” Noticing her tired look, knowing he was talking to himself, he spun on his heel and waved. “I’ll show myself out Mary Poppins. See you tomorrow morning.”
Annie could only watch as the man walked off with the whirring of servos droning into her ears. She had a feeling she was going to be hearing a lot more of them.
_______
“How did it go?” Winger turned to see his assistant, Britta, walking towards him with a bag full of souvenirs.
“Can’t say. I’m not going to jail anytime soon, but I am gonna be in the lab for the next few days.”
“So we’re going back to New York?”
“Not me. Too much to do. I need you back there with the constructing of the tower though.”
She pouted. “What about the Expo?”
“We have people to run the Expo. What I need is someone back home who can manage any damage control and put some publicity on me working with the police. I also need you to get some things setup in New York for the planning on the arc reactors.”
“Wait, now you’re going to worry about publicity and PR?” She pantomimed trying to put a hand to his forehead to check for fever but he kept walking past her, the boots of his armor clomping down the hallway towards the main lobby. “What’s going on anyway?”
“They had a break-in, and they thought it was me. There’s ten people dead now because a guy who looks like me decided to knock over one of the most secure museums in the world.” The faceplate on his snapped open with a hiss, and she was finally able to see a somewhat tired Jeff Winger taking in his surroundings.
“He looked like you?”
“Damn near. Missing some of my souvenirs from Afghanistan, but close enough to fool people who don’t know me. That’s why I need you on the phone checking with the best plastic surgeons in the world. Someone has a record of ‘working on me.’ We need to find it.”
The blonde already had a mental checklist going, and she nodded in agreement. “It’s not…one of your suits, is it?”
“No, it’s tech I’ve never seen, and that bugs the hell out of me.” The plating on his left hip opened, the slot holding a small plastic sandwich bad holding a plastic slide of sorts. Handing it to her, he initiated the locks on the suit and slowly shed it, letting it collapse back down to its large suitcase storage mode. Grabbing it, he continued walking towards the car while Britta followed, placing the baggie in a safe place with her own souvenirs.
_______
Edison closed her eyes, took several deep breaths, and collected her thoughts. Today, she would most likely remark in her journals, would be one of the more exotic days of her life whether it be professional or personal. She loved her job, but Annie wasn’t looking forward to breaking the rules she was bound to be by letting a civilian, let alone an egotist like Jeff Winger work with her.
The drive to her flat was an hour long affair on the A12 that was quiet this late in the evening. She was glad, naturally, that the traffic was minimal, for it gave her more time to think and go over the evidence. While she thought Winger was innocent, and it was just too hard to think of him as a suspect after spending time with such an intuitive mind, she knew that she couldn’t let him float off into the wind or back to the States any time soon. Edison wasn’t going to submit formal charges, she’d come to that conclusion after he so willingly helped her this evening as well as the evidence proving otherwise.
Her flat was cluttered with books and journals, scattered across the sparse furnishings she was able to afford on a meager salary. And while she was an up-and-comer in the Ministry of Defence Police, Annie was still on the low end of the pay scale and her economic conditions wouldn’t change anytime soon. She knew how tenuous her position was, she knew people talked behind her back and questioned her qualifications.
Throwing her coat on the rickety coat rack, she dropped her satchel by the kitchen table and slumped into the secondhand sofa with a groan from both her and it. Tired from the day, she closed her eyes again and thought about the hell she was going to fall upon her on a wonderfully dreary Sunday morning that was minutes away.
Thinking it would be easier to just sleep on the old couch (and it was a comfortable couch) she kept her eyes closed and thought back to that dream earlier that morning. She wanted to the feel the sun on her face, the wind through her hair, anything to get away from the day she’d just had. So focused on her attempts at relaxation, Annie barely heard the sound of a man clearing his throat for attention.
From under a cushion, she pulled a Taser and aimed it at the sound, opening her blue eyes and casting a steely gaze in that direction. The Taser, capable of incapacitation of any target hit by the two probes attached to a total of fifteen foot of wire, was aimed quickly and instinctually. Annie was glad on rare occasions she filled out the hours of paperwork required by her employer to own one, and this moment could be added to that total. She was an Authorised Firearms Officer, but she refused to have a handgun in her home, therefore it stayed locked up at headquarters.
“Oh hell, what do you want?” The male intruder looked rather unimpressed with her display of action, and merely stared back at the young woman. Edison kept the non-lethal weapon leveled on him.
“To talk about your day, my dear.” After several tense moments, she lowered the Taser and placed it on top the cushion next to her. “Thank you, more colorful than the guns you occasionally carry.”
“What do you want?” She repeated herself, sighing in resignation, knowing she was going to hate this conversation.
The older man adjusted his glasses, sitting forward and clasping his hands with his elbows on his knees. “A very interesting day, if you ask me.”
“And you would know how my day went?”
“I do.”
“So talk. I’m tired, it’s late, and I have a busy day tomorrow.”
Grimacing, he pulled on a hat and walked towards the door. “Tomorrow would be a better time to meet?”
“I don’t care; just don’t come back here again.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll call tomorrow.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “I’ll call you.”
“Wonderful. Lovely to see you, dear.” He was gone in an instant, and Annie spoke to herself, the man well out of earshot.
“And stop breaking into my apartment!” Annie’s yell bounced off the walls, the sound not cushioned by any of the fabric spread about her living room. Falling back down on her couch, she groped around for her purse and found the small transparent plastic card the billionaire had her collect evidence with earlier.
And she asked herself just what exactly made the dust and metal shavings so important.
_______
Author's Notes: Still need to see Iron Man 3. That's my priority this weekend. Spoiler alert, stuff probably blows up.
As always, pardon the typos.
Author: Christmas Pterodactyl
Rating: PG-13 to R
Word count: 5,964 words
Disclaimer: The author makes no claims of ownership to any material that may be recognized by the public. Additionally, he makes no income or profits from this exercise.
Spoilers: Primarily Episode 03x03 - Remedial Chaos Theory
Summary: “That's the secret of the universe, you know. Billions of people, making billions of choices, creating infinite Earths. Some so similar to each other that you could spend a lifetime searching for any difference. Others so radically different, they defy comprehension.” - Owlman
Notes: Chapter two, wherein we visit the scene of the crime.
Sitting in small room with a modern steel table and uncomfortable chair was the last thing Winger ever expected to be doing this evening. While he wasn’t serious about the Page Three Girl crack to Britta, he had been invited to a post-opening ceremonies after-party in his honor. And there was the distinct possibility he’d have some companionship for the evening. A part of his mind shot back to the short albeit leggy brunette would’ve been an excellent candidate; but the arrest put a damper on that idea as he was now leaning in a metal chair that was digging into his back.
In some sense, maybe chickens were coming home to roost with these bogus murder charges. The past several years had resulted in the deaths of several men and women who threatened him or the world. And in some sense, he had murdered people like his mentor and family friend Alan Conner aka the Iron Monger. Or maybe Cory Radison, the man who caused injury and harm to thousands with the use of the Rich Stephenson’s Military Drones. The final fight with that fool had been the first true team-up between him and his friend Troy. Barnes had been co-opted by “Rad’s” software overrides in the Mark II suit, which had almost killed Winger several times that night. It was by divine intervention that the War Machine armor’s software had been returned to normal in the end, or there would have been massive loss of life that would have caused no end of guilt to the Lieutenant Colonel.
But Barnesy wasn’t here now. Britta wasn’t here now. Hell, his lawyer wasn’t here now, and he was about to face true grilling. He didn’t want to murder Alan, or Radison (though both men had it coming). Winger didn’t want to be a killer; he had been forced into taking their lives to save himself and perhaps millions of others in the long run.
The door opened and in walked said leggy brunette. Holding a file folder,and a tablet computer, she placed them on the table, pulled out the chair opposite Jeff, and sat down with an untold grace. Shiny brown hair parted to the right, eyes as blue as sapphires, pale skin; she was a beauty, and having only spoken to her for a few moments, he was still pretty turned on by that sexy little accent.
“I’m sorry I had to do what I did in front of the public Mr. Winger.”
The tall man remained stone-faced for a moment, steepled his fingers, and took several moments to gather his thoughts. “I’m used to the publicity.”
“Indeed, you seem to love the attention.”
He smirked. “Can’t help it, the cameras love me.”
“Yes, the footage of you killing ten security guards truly captured you at your finest.”
“Excuse me?”
Annie paused a moment, then pulled out a picture of chalk outlines on the ground outside the vault. He looked at it, then up at her. “Let me back up. Where were you at 1:30 this morning?”
“On a private jet crossing the Atlantic.” Annie had her favorite notepad out, along with a purple pen, and started writing down everything he said in her unique form of shorthand. “Took off at seven last night…this morning…something like that. I wasn’t here though.”
“You have witnesses?”
“Two pilots, three rather lovely attendants, and my personal assistant slash CEO of my company.” This was common knowledge; she’d already checked his alibi.
“Can you explain this?” She pushed the second photo in the file folder across the table. Winger took it and hint of confusion, she noted, sparked in his face. He saw himself looking at his watch near what seemed to be a stone sarcophagus.
“Photoshop?”
“Mr. Winger, this was taken at 8:51pm, Thursday night at the British Museum.”
“Not possible. I was still in New York. Finalizing plans on…, working on something.”
Annie nodded, eyes back on the parchment colored pages of the note pad. “Do you have witness-”
“Again, yes.” The girl was starting to annoy him. But he was truly puzzled by her questions. “Look, it’s not physically possible to be in two different places at the same time.”
“Unless you were in your suit of armor.”
“Little absurd, bringing a powered exoskeleton to an investors meeting.”
“You’re a showman.”
“Narcissistic to a fault.” He quipped. “But I guarantee you I wasn’t in the Eastern Hemisphere until early this morning.”
She was getting nowhere, and he was getting antsy. She didn’t have a lot of time now, before his barrister arrived to stop any important questions from being asked. “I don’t believe you.”
“Doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. If all you have is a supposed photo of me, then you’re really reaching. But I know I wasn’t here.”
She sighed, knowing she was about to show him damning evidence that may make him stumble. And she needed answers, because the item he’d stolen was something no man should have. “Check how ‘supposed’ this is?” She pushed an application icon and then the play button, and the footage of the theft and attack started. Winger watched in fascination as, what appeared to be him or someone looking very much like him punching a very solid vault door with a bare fist. Taking the computer pad in his hand, Jeff studied the video and was more than surprised by how much damage “he” was doing to something so massive.
“That’s not right.”
“Just wait. You get to see who the chalk outlines belong to.” Edison said under her breath. “You get to see yourself murder ten good men.”
“That’s not me!”
“Look, you can save yourself a lot of trouble if you just confess.”
“Ha! I’m not that stupid. And I didn’t do anything. Because that’s. Not. Me!” He put down the tablet, and pushed it back over to his interrogator.
Shaking her head, Annie paused the footage of Jeff Winger strangling a man with only one hand. “You. Are. Guilty.”
“And that’s not me.” He gave her a steely glare, quirked an eyebrow, then smiled and leaned back against the uncomfortable chair. He held up the clear, focused photo of himself in the museum. “Look. Right there.” Jeff placed the photo back on the table, pushed it halfway between them and tapped on the forehead the man in the photo’s brow.
Taking the photo and squinting her eyes to get proper focus, Annie saw that the man in the photo had a completely unblemished face. She then looked up at the man in front of her, and saw that Jeff in fact had a small vertical scar perpendicular to his eyebrow. “Wha….”
“I need my phone.”
“Um, I hate to break this to you Mr. Winger. But unlike your American police procedural dramas, you don’t get a phone call.”
“I didn’t ask for that. I asked for my phone.”
Annie clasped her hands in front of her. “And why, pray tell, do you want your mobile?”
“Because I can prove that the person in the video is not me in like…five seconds with it.”
Now she leaned back in her chair, emulating him with a knowitall smirk. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a ‘Get Out of Jail App.’”
“You do know that the Prime Minister and the Queen owe me a favor or two, right?” He tried a different tactic.
Annie remained unimpressed with the name dropping.
“Please, feel free to call Number Ten. I’m sure David wouldn’t mind hearing from me this late.” He paused, his grin turning Cheshire cat sized. “Actually, he’s at the gala event I’m missing.” Edison was silent, indecision crisscrossing her mind, wondering if this ploy of his was legitimate or just a lie.
“If I give you your phone, what do you plan on doing?”
“Well, for starters, I’m going to download the video and send it through to my own servers and have it analyzed. That’ll take maybe forty-three seconds to give you complete details on my evil twin here. Second, I can probably tell you exactly how he was able to punch into what sounds like one of the most private vaults in the world. And third….”
She was intrigued by the idea. Skeptical, but intrigued. “Yes…?”
“I can snap a photo of you to tweet. Just think.” His arms were stretched up in the air, gesturing as if putting her name in the stars. Jeff halted though, looking over at her. “Didn’t catch your name by the way.”
“Annie Edison. Inspector.”
“Just think, Annie Edison, the woman who broke Iron Man’s heart.”
“Oh please.”
“Fine. Just the first two.”
This wouldn’t fly with Chief Bennett. And she knew this was probably going to get her in trouble with so many other people up and down the chain-of-command. But Annie also knew this was Jeff Winger, and people were going to bend over backwards to accommodate the so-called superhero. What seemed like an eternity of indecisiveness was actually a few seconds in real time, and she made the decision that could very well get her fired or promoted.
“Okay.”
_______
The extremely thin and oddly designed phone was brought into the interrogation room with a rapidity unheard of in the entire department. Annie made sure, when she arrested Winger, that all his items were scanned and deemed non-lethal. So giving him the phone wasn’t going to hurt her physically, but it could kill the career that she’d thrown her life into. All of this was beyond regulations, and while she was going to be given a wider berth in matters of jurisdiction there was a chance this could bite her in the ass when all was said and done.
The small, unassuming device made its way into Wingers hand, and he was instantly typing with his thumbs at speeds unheard of. She knew the man well enough, in that anything he owned remotely electronic was going to be far more advanced than anything she’d ever seen or probably ever owned or would own. So involved was she in her thoughts that she was only dimly aware of his voice.
“Can I borrow your ‘pad?” She looked up at him, and then nodded dumbly as he grabbed it from the table. Fiddling with the small device he humorously called a phone, Jeff surprisingly connected the two. Instantly, the Winger Industries logo appeared on the screen of the larger tablet computer, and Jeff swept through the various screens and files looking for what he needed. “This won’t take long.”
“Only the video footage, Mr. Winger.”
“Oh Princess, I’m so disappointed, I thought you trusted me.”
“Excuse me!”
“Whoa, just kidding. Only taking the video footage.”
She gave him a pointed look than a roll of the eyes. “Mr. Winger, I’m doing this as a courtesy.”
Winger looked up at her from his work, smirking. “Well, if you really want, I’ll add you as a friend on Facebook. But that might raise a few eyebrows.”
“Just get what you need and let me have my tablet back.” He looked at the screen on his phone, saw the file had transferred successfully, and disengaged both devices. Annie took the tablet and knocked on the door.
“Give me thirty seconds to upload this.”
“Take your time.” The door opened, revealing one of the arresting officers, to whom Annie handed the tablet to. “Check for any virus’ please.”
“Wow, talk about trust. That might be a point off on the guest survey.”
“This is a serious matter, thank you very much. I’m giving you access to information-”
“That you would have had to give me anyway. And no, I didn’t bug or tap Her Majesty’s secure computer networks that are running on a few hundred Winger Industries servers with proprietary software that I co-wrote with Microsoft. Inspector, give me a little credit.” He went back to his phone, tapping at the thin plastic screen again. “Besides, David will probably approve it.”
“David? You’re really on first name basis with the Prime Minister?”
“It’s really that hard to believe?” He cocked an eyebrow, inquisitively.
“Just get to work.”
“Hot date tonight, or just married to the job?”
“Neither.”
“Then what’s the rush?”
“The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can get back to tracking down the real thief.”
“A-ha! I’m not a suspect.”
“I never said that!” She back-pedaled, knowing that it was in fact true.
“Didn’t have to. Besides, the mainframe just came back with the program. Got your tablet?”
“You know I don’t.”
Jeff shrugged his shoulders and then walked around to her side, moving much too close for her comfort. Granted, his presence wasn’t revolting, but she was tired and hungry and running on little more than a Cobb salad from earlier in the day, thus cranky. “Okay, proving further that this isn’t me, the video on the camera did get several glimpses of ‘my’ face. They’re only a few frames here and there, but as you can see, the man on the video doesn’t have a single scar on him.” He zoomed the image out while forwarding the video to another spot, where his doppelganger began battering the door with his bare knuckles.
“I’ve seen this part.”
“I know. But….” He paused the image, then typed or pushed something, zooming in on the shoulder of the thief. “This is interesting.”
“What is?”
“Okay, your case hinges on me being at the scene of the crime and going berserk on a door that’s got to be a minimum, MINIMUM of one foot of solid steel and probably some concrete or other super-dense material. And while it could POSSIBLY be some of my tech, I guarantee you that I haven’t miniaturized or made my armor modular enough to the point where I could just wear it on one arm.”
Jeff paused to make sure Edison was following along with him. “…Continue….” She prompted.
His eyes continued scanning the picture “Two things. Look at the shoulder, the slight bulge where the arm connects to the socket. Now look at my awesome shoulder. If I was the man in that video, I’d have the same bulge here, right now.”
“That could be a part of your armor that you took off your suit.” She said, looking at
“No, it can’t. My suits aren’t built like that. It’s either the whole thing or nothing. None of them are capable of being used in pieces.” She was tentatively following along, staring a bit too long at his chiseled, scruffy jaw. “Let alone there’s no connections to my…son of a bitch.”
“Language!”
“No! Look at his shirt.”
“What about his shirt?”
“A shirt like that, would be thinner cloth then what I’ve currently got on right now. Right?”
“I guess.” She didn’t know what he was getting at, but his inexplicable revelation had certainly sent him into hysterics. He was suddenly more alive than whenever she’d seen him do press interviews or heard him talk on the television or radio. But wherever Winger was going with this, he was excited enough that it made her curiosity pique higher.
He set the miniature phone down on the table, and then stood up, facing her. She had to crane her neck up painfully at him, being so close to him at the moment. “What do you see?” Jeff’s hands worked the buttons on his dress shirt, opening it quickly.
“Your chin.”
“Eyes forward Inspector.” And Annie’s eyes traveled down his chest, not even attempting to disguise how she was looking at him like a lioness sizing up a gazelle. They stopped dead center, at his sternum, where she saw a blue glow. The diminutive brunette was staring straight at an cerulean light that shone faintly through his shirt. The circle was covered with lines of varied lengths, focused primarily on an upside-down triangle inside a similar shape with two spokes on each side. Something so obvious, but hidden in plain sight by the man’s either magnanimous or outrageous actions and attitudes. “There’s no glow.”
“What is that…thing in your chest?” She went to touch it with her own hand but was stopped by his grip.
“It’s…it’s a terrible privilege.”
Annie brushed his hand aside and tapped the smooth surface of Jeff’s chest implant. “What is it?”
“It’s what my evil twin without the goatee doesn’t have.” Jeff pulled up his phone, sighing at the small item. “Show me the crime scene.”
Snapped out of her reverie, she crossed her arms defiantly. “Out of the questions.”
“Your choice. Abed, dial up Mr. Cameron and put him on speaker phone?”
Annie was surprised by the sound of a disembodied voice, “At once, sir. Would you like his private line or his private line or his official line?”
Taking a deep breath, Annie risked talking to the person who suddenly seemed to be on the other end of the line. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Abed.”
“He’s not a mister.” Jeff smirked at the absurdity.
“Shall I cancel the call sir?”
“Yeah. He’s not a mister. Hell, he isn’t even a person.”
“You expect me to believe… who are we talking to?”
“A dumb AI.”
“He’s dumb? That’s not very nice to say.”
“I hardly lack intelligence, Inspector Edison. Mr. Winger simply means that I have constraints on my programming that limit what I can do.”
“That’s a computer? I’m talking to a computer!?”
“It scares people the first time. Now, field trip?” Again, the eternity of indecision became her entire world. She was now letting a murder suspect, with a talking computer, take him to the scene of a crime that he apparently now had nothing and yet everything to do with.
“Fine. But don’t touch anything. At all.”
Winger snapped into a mock salute, before grabbing his coat and following her out the stuffy interrogation room they’d been cooped up in. “Oh. A.B.E.D.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Tell Britta I need my briefcase; have her meet us at….”
“The British Museum.”
“At once, sir.”
Annie turned was still wondering about this computer she was talking to. “Abed, he’s a computer?”
“AI, artificial intelligence. He’s pure computer code with too dry of a sense of humor. Advanced Binary Enhancement Driver.”
“How are you talking to him?”
“The phone.” He held it up, jiggling it in his hand, fingers not quite gripping it.
“I gathered that.” Her voice was dripping with derision and annoyance
“Why the stupid question then?”
She sniffed and rolled her eyes. This whole situation was getting ridiculous. “There is no such thing as a stupid question.”
So he tested the limits. “Are we there yet?”
_______
For the second time within twenty-four hours, she was in one of her places in the entire world. That it had been desecrated so horribly, between the multiple homicides and theft, made her cringe. But Annie had vowed to herself to find the man who did this, whether it was in fact tall, handsome, incredibly intelligent Jeff Winger.
The drive from Wethersfield to the British Museum was quiet, long, and somewhat awkward for the unlikely companions. Annie wouldn’t say she was nervous, but even having him prattle on about anything would have helped break tension. After all, it wasn’t everyday she drove around with a “superhero.”
Their arrival was discreet, with little fanfare, save for Winger’s blonde traveling companion from earlier, waiting patiently for her employer with a black and gold metallic suitcase. He thanked her with a nod, easily grabbing it from the ground and hefting it along with them. Edison stopped briefly as well, grabbing an adjunct by the elbow and pulling him to the side. With a few quick words, Ms. Perry had her very own tour guide and the few remaining investigators were pulled away from the crime scene, leaving Edison and Winger to their work.
“What’s in the case?” Jeff raised an eyebrow, surprised by her query.
“Help.”
“I don’t think I’m following here.”
He looked back at her, his face aghast. “I thought you called yourself an investigator? You’re in my demographic, you can’t seriously not know what’s in the case.” She shrugged her shoulders, her brow wrinkled with what was known in the MDP as her trademark inquisitive look. “Okay, since you apparently don’t pay attention to what I do…”
“How inflated of an ego do you have?”
“Moving on, this is gonna help solve the case.” He stepped on a large steel triangle in the middle of the case, and the lid popped open seven inches, and the large container sprung to life, flipping vertically and opening upright with two handles and various pieces of metal spiking out at odd angles. Leaning forward, Winger gripped both upraised handles and pulled the entire contraption up, stepping on the bottom lip of the case to hold it in place.
Akin to a technologically advanced non-musical accordion, Jeff pulled the two handles out wide, wherein a full chest piece appeared as the handles changed into steel gauntlets. Plates shifted and Annie’s eyes widened as a shining cyan light emitted from Jeff’s sternum. The arc reactor flared as power coursed through what was now a fully armored Winger. She noted the armor’s color, but primarily black with gold trim, not the red and gold he was known for. The plates finished shifting, and a frame surrounded his face. The well-known faceplate slid down and the eyes shone a pure white.
He turned to look at her, amused slightly by her staring at him in wonderment, mouth slightly agape. She visibly shook her head, coming around quickly, and looked him up and down. Despite adding only a few inches to his already tall stature, Jeff seemed even more imposing to her now more than ever.
“That was….”
“I get that a lot.” He said with a grin. His voice had an electronic undertone, as he spoke, and the Iron Man’s gaze was penetrating. She felt as if his eyes were piercing right through her to her very soul, and it was both exhilarating and disturbing at the same time. “Okay, let’s see what’s going on here.” Jeff’s eyes adjusted quickly to the heads-up display, and motioned over to the mute on the microphone that let others hear him. “A.B.E.D, start recording over everything, scan room for any devices that are transmitting, and give me a wireframe of the room. Standard grid pattern used by MDP personnel.”
“Very good sir, shall I turn off external speakers when I have information?”
“Only for proprietary information, we’re cooperating with the good guys. Oh, and see if you can’t get me a list of everything that would be behind something this big.” He indicated with his eyes at the large, broken vault door in front of him.
“Very well sir. The request will take several minutes.”
Annie watched him for several moments as his head made slight motions. She couldn’t imagine what exactly he was doing, but then, she’d never had a suspect like him or been in a situation like this. “Still there?”
He switched on the microphone with the flick of his eyes, the sophisticated software in his helmet tracking all eye movement. “Yeah. Where do you want to start?” Edison was unsure how to answer the question, and then shrugged.
“The door.”
“Good idea.” Iron Man shifted his gaze over to the door, and began scanning, while Annie struggled to find a way to make herself useful. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure what more she could do save for to await any results that her new cohort could find.
He started with the rather large door that sat off its hinges. Already his HUD had the factory specifications and details pulled up and on the right side of his vision. The round door, fifteen feet in diameter and a foot and a half wide, did indeed have a large hole punched through to the other side. Already, the scanners of the Iron Man armor were measuring actual weight from microscopic depressions in the floor from where it had sat, or landed.
“When was this installed?”
Edison took her notepad out, from where Jeff couldn’t tell. “Museum staff had it installed in 1947, two years after the War.”
“Was this place hit?”
“I know you’re not from around here, but just about everywhere in London took damage. After the war, renovations and reconstruction was standard. The Museum itself was hit by two high explosive bombs, so when reconstruction began they put in a new vault for their Special Collection.”
“Makes me wonder if Dad had something to do with it.” He trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. There was still much he didn’t know about William Winger’s involvement with the Allied Forces during the Second World War. For that matter, would the man have even cared for such a thing like art?
“Come again?”
“Nothing.” Jeff continued his scans, moving towards the large hole. Made with a fist, by consistently hitting one spot over and over, he still couldn’t wrap his head around how a person could actually do it. “Enhance section 56-12, zoom by 200x magnification.” The stainless steel around the edges of the hole zoomed into view, and Winger instantly noticed the detail that was nagging at him. “There’s no blood.” He turned to the woman, who had simply been watching the metal man work without an excess of motion. Her arms crossed, she nodded in assent.
“I know.”
“That’s not possible. Anyone who could punch through something like this with that much force would have to leave…something. Broken bone, skin, tendon, anything.”
“That’s what has us confused as well, and why I’m now asking you for help.”
“Officially?”
“Not yet, but I imagine it’ll be approved.”
“Okay.” He whirled back around, and Annie could feel the manic energy return.
“A.B.E.D., zoom in on section 62-12, 500 times magnification.” The virtual display lit-up again, this time with information on metallurgical specs of the door as well as information on stress testing. He absorbed the information, but he kept looking at the cross-section. “What have we here?” Jeff motioned the young woman closer. “Bring a lift card.”
“What do you need that for?”
“Metallic dust.”
“I don’t think I’m following.”
“Obviously not.” He didn’t want to sound to condescending, but it always came out that way. At least, that’s what Britta told him time and again. “Okay, there’s no flesh and blood, because this guy was either wearing a gauntlet like, or…oh now that is impressive.”
“What’s impressive?”
“Oh God, how did I not see it!” He knocked the bottom of his palm against his helmeted head. “It’s not a gauntlet. It’s his whole arm!” Jeff looked at Annie again. “Did your teams take any samples from the hole?”
“I don’t think so. We mostly took fingerprints from the areas the suspect actually put a hand on. That is how fingerprinting works.”
“Okay, couple things. First, I’m aware of how fingerprinting works. I watched NCIS. Second, while that makes sense, you need to lift the residue and metallic shavings from the hole. We need a full metallurgical analysis.”
“What kind of metal is it?”
He stopped. “I don’t know. Mind lending me a card? Wait, you’re going to have to do it, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Stepping aside, Annie took the samples, and gave one of them to her new partner. “I’m trusting you with this.”
“Trust is my middle name.”
“It’s Tobias.”
“You do pay attention.” Gripping the sample, a compartment on his hip opened, where he slid it into place. “I need to get this to my lab.”
“You’re going back to New York tonight? Oh no, that’s not happening. You’re not a suspect anymore Winger, but you’re also not free to leave the country quite yet.”
He moved quickly, quicker than she thought he could, in front of her and glared down. She couldn’t feel any heat radiating off the suit, but she felt the imaginary heat off the white-hot glare from the small eye slits in his helm. “You’re going to stop me?”
She summoned up as much courage as she could. “No, but your honor will.” And she sounded so cheesy saying what she just said.
“Yeah…I’m gonna humor you on this one. But I still need my lab. I’ll e-mail you my location, but I only have one factory in the area, so I’ll probably set up shop there. Don’t think the Langham would want a complete refit of its penthouse with holographic emitters.” Noticing her tired look, knowing he was talking to himself, he spun on his heel and waved. “I’ll show myself out Mary Poppins. See you tomorrow morning.”
Annie could only watch as the man walked off with the whirring of servos droning into her ears. She had a feeling she was going to be hearing a lot more of them.
_______
“How did it go?” Winger turned to see his assistant, Britta, walking towards him with a bag full of souvenirs.
“Can’t say. I’m not going to jail anytime soon, but I am gonna be in the lab for the next few days.”
“So we’re going back to New York?”
“Not me. Too much to do. I need you back there with the constructing of the tower though.”
She pouted. “What about the Expo?”
“We have people to run the Expo. What I need is someone back home who can manage any damage control and put some publicity on me working with the police. I also need you to get some things setup in New York for the planning on the arc reactors.”
“Wait, now you’re going to worry about publicity and PR?” She pantomimed trying to put a hand to his forehead to check for fever but he kept walking past her, the boots of his armor clomping down the hallway towards the main lobby. “What’s going on anyway?”
“They had a break-in, and they thought it was me. There’s ten people dead now because a guy who looks like me decided to knock over one of the most secure museums in the world.” The faceplate on his snapped open with a hiss, and she was finally able to see a somewhat tired Jeff Winger taking in his surroundings.
“He looked like you?”
“Damn near. Missing some of my souvenirs from Afghanistan, but close enough to fool people who don’t know me. That’s why I need you on the phone checking with the best plastic surgeons in the world. Someone has a record of ‘working on me.’ We need to find it.”
The blonde already had a mental checklist going, and she nodded in agreement. “It’s not…one of your suits, is it?”
“No, it’s tech I’ve never seen, and that bugs the hell out of me.” The plating on his left hip opened, the slot holding a small plastic sandwich bad holding a plastic slide of sorts. Handing it to her, he initiated the locks on the suit and slowly shed it, letting it collapse back down to its large suitcase storage mode. Grabbing it, he continued walking towards the car while Britta followed, placing the baggie in a safe place with her own souvenirs.
_______
Edison closed her eyes, took several deep breaths, and collected her thoughts. Today, she would most likely remark in her journals, would be one of the more exotic days of her life whether it be professional or personal. She loved her job, but Annie wasn’t looking forward to breaking the rules she was bound to be by letting a civilian, let alone an egotist like Jeff Winger work with her.
The drive to her flat was an hour long affair on the A12 that was quiet this late in the evening. She was glad, naturally, that the traffic was minimal, for it gave her more time to think and go over the evidence. While she thought Winger was innocent, and it was just too hard to think of him as a suspect after spending time with such an intuitive mind, she knew that she couldn’t let him float off into the wind or back to the States any time soon. Edison wasn’t going to submit formal charges, she’d come to that conclusion after he so willingly helped her this evening as well as the evidence proving otherwise.
Her flat was cluttered with books and journals, scattered across the sparse furnishings she was able to afford on a meager salary. And while she was an up-and-comer in the Ministry of Defence Police, Annie was still on the low end of the pay scale and her economic conditions wouldn’t change anytime soon. She knew how tenuous her position was, she knew people talked behind her back and questioned her qualifications.
Throwing her coat on the rickety coat rack, she dropped her satchel by the kitchen table and slumped into the secondhand sofa with a groan from both her and it. Tired from the day, she closed her eyes again and thought about the hell she was going to fall upon her on a wonderfully dreary Sunday morning that was minutes away.
Thinking it would be easier to just sleep on the old couch (and it was a comfortable couch) she kept her eyes closed and thought back to that dream earlier that morning. She wanted to the feel the sun on her face, the wind through her hair, anything to get away from the day she’d just had. So focused on her attempts at relaxation, Annie barely heard the sound of a man clearing his throat for attention.
From under a cushion, she pulled a Taser and aimed it at the sound, opening her blue eyes and casting a steely gaze in that direction. The Taser, capable of incapacitation of any target hit by the two probes attached to a total of fifteen foot of wire, was aimed quickly and instinctually. Annie was glad on rare occasions she filled out the hours of paperwork required by her employer to own one, and this moment could be added to that total. She was an Authorised Firearms Officer, but she refused to have a handgun in her home, therefore it stayed locked up at headquarters.
“Oh hell, what do you want?” The male intruder looked rather unimpressed with her display of action, and merely stared back at the young woman. Edison kept the non-lethal weapon leveled on him.
“To talk about your day, my dear.” After several tense moments, she lowered the Taser and placed it on top the cushion next to her. “Thank you, more colorful than the guns you occasionally carry.”
“What do you want?” She repeated herself, sighing in resignation, knowing she was going to hate this conversation.
The older man adjusted his glasses, sitting forward and clasping his hands with his elbows on his knees. “A very interesting day, if you ask me.”
“And you would know how my day went?”
“I do.”
“So talk. I’m tired, it’s late, and I have a busy day tomorrow.”
Grimacing, he pulled on a hat and walked towards the door. “Tomorrow would be a better time to meet?”
“I don’t care; just don’t come back here again.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll call tomorrow.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “I’ll call you.”
“Wonderful. Lovely to see you, dear.” He was gone in an instant, and Annie spoke to herself, the man well out of earshot.
“And stop breaking into my apartment!” Annie’s yell bounced off the walls, the sound not cushioned by any of the fabric spread about her living room. Falling back down on her couch, she groped around for her purse and found the small transparent plastic card the billionaire had her collect evidence with earlier.
And she asked herself just what exactly made the dust and metal shavings so important.
_______
Author's Notes: Still need to see Iron Man 3. That's my priority this weekend. Spoiler alert, stuff probably blows up.
As always, pardon the typos.