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The first thing Tony noticed was his headache. Honestly, he wasn’t surprised. Waking up with pain pounding in his skull had become a fairly normal occurrence for him. Nonetheless, this one was bad, even according to the billionaire’s standards. He groaned.
“JARVIS, please have Pepper bring me an aspirin.” Tony’s brow furrowed when he received no response. “...JARVIS?” After another disappointing silence, he let a stream of curses slip from his lips and forced his heavy eyelids open.
If anything, opening his eyes made his headache worse. Tony gritted his teeth as he adjusted to his surroundings. The enclosure was small, dimly lit… panic clenched in his chest. Was he, somehow, in the cave again?
No, impossible,
he assured himself, trying to remember to breathe.
The Ten Rings are gone.
As he forced himself to calm down, he realized that he wasn’t in any sort of cave at all. It was a small square of a room, illuminated only by a single naked bulb hanging above him like a spotlight. The walls were made of dark, dull metal, except- Tony squinted. Was that… a mirror? Yes, it was, he decided upon catching a glimpse of his reflection. He chuckled wearily.
“Looking a little worse for wear, aren’t you, Stark?” he muttered to himself. Grunting, he tried to stand, only to find that he was stuck in his chair, bound by restraints. “Why am I not surprised? ”
Tony sighed and let his head fall back to rest on his seat. Leave it to an idiot like him to land himself in hot water twice. He closed his eyes and willed the throbbing in his head to subside. Whatever was going on, it couldn’t be worse than Afghanistan.
They were all doing their best to remain calm. Obviously, the situation wasn’t ideal, but what they needed was a plan.
The problem was, none of them could think of one.
“Alright, headcount,” said Steve finally. “Who’s here?”
“I think a better question would be ‘who’s awake’,” slurred a voice that was obviously Clint Barton. “Those drugs really did a number on us normal humans.” Steve ignored the comment and urged,
“Come on, guys.”
“I’m here,” said Natasha in her usual curt manner, though she sounded a little more unsettled than usual.
“Me, too,” added Rhodey, followed by Sam, Wanda, and a rather disgruntled Scott.
“They got me, and I wasn’t even in the country.” Pepper. She sounded nervous, and understandably so.
“I’m afraid I am as well,” came another grave response. Steve frowned.
“Director Fury?” he asked incredulously.
“Unfortunately so.”
This was bad. It was one thing for a bunch of reckless heroes (vigilantes, if Cap was being honest with himself) to get themselves captured, but the leader of a high-security government program? Whoever had taken them all was serious trouble.
As disconcerting as this last revelation had been, nothing could have prepared them for the groggy voice that spoke up next.
“M...Mr. Stark? Is this another… are we training?” There were several sharp intakes of breath.
“Peter?!” exclaimed Rhodey and Pepper, just as Sam spluttered,
“Is that a kid?!”
“Ms. Potts! Mr. Rhodes! Where’s Mr. Stark? What’s going on?” Pepper let out a string of foul language that made Steve blush while Rhodey took the time to calmly explain,
“We don’t know, Pete, but we’re trying to figure that out.”
“Hey, the kid’s got a point, where is Stark?” piped up Scott. Everyone fell silent for a moment. Where was their loud mouthed but lovable friend?
“I’m looking right at him.” Steve jumped; he hadn’t even realized Bucky was there. The group craned their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of what the Winter Soldier was seeing. Not all of them were able to reach the right angle, but those of them who were felt their stomachs plummet into their shoes.
Behind a large glass window in a lonely wooden chair sat Tony Stark. He looked like he’d been run over by a steamroller made of sandpaper. His usually styled hair was matted and tangled, his face and arms were mottled with scrapes and bruises, a thin stream of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. Steve’s heart clenched in sympathy. He could remember his life before the serum, getting beaten up by bullies in the alleyways. But that sort of thing was
not
supposed to happen to Tony Stark.
Tony stirred for a minute, squinted, blinked, stared straight at the window, and made some sort of offhand comment under his breath. He then proceeded to slump backwards and close his eyes. Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Fury- the only ones who could get a clear view of the genius- began to struggle against their bonds.
“What? What is it? Is he ok?” shouted Peter. His spider sense had kicked in and was going haywire, giving him a massive headache and a sense of dread that gnawed at his gut. His cries were quickly joined by Pepper’s and Rhodey’s.
They were interrupted by a grating high pitched whine. The prisoners yelped in pain; even Tony shot up with his face twisted in agony. The noise continued for ten seconds and then cut off abruptly. Before anyone could complain, however, both rooms were filled with a gravelly voice.
“I believe we’re all awake now, aren’t we? It’s time to begin.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Tony looked up at the ceiling, scared and annoyed. He did not like the direction this was going at all. He was bursting at the seams with questions, demands, and insults, but one thought nagged at him more persistently than the others.
“‘We?’” he asked, his voice dry and scratchy. His ears were still ringing from the rude awakening he’d received moments earlier. “What, did you decide to get some beauty sleep after you kidnapped me?”
A deep chuckle echoed through the tiny chamber. “Did you know,” the voice continued, “that Captain Rogers almost always passes by the Statue of Liberty on his early morning runs?”
What?
“How sentimental. Ms. Potts just
loves
the breakfast muffins they sell at that cafe two blocks away from Stark Tower. The Parker kid has a study group with his friends at the library on Fridays.”
No. No, no, no, no, no.
“Director Fury visits the Barton family once a month, just to make sure they’re doing alright while their father’s away. The infamous Black Widow and her partner in crime volunteer weekends at a local orphanage. The Winter Soldier pays his respects at your father’s memorial every Sunday evening. Colonel Rhodes attends physical therapy across town on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays-”
STOP!
The room fell silent, and Tony realized he’d said that out loud. Shouted it, actually. That’s not the only thing; there are tears, hot and fast, streaming down his face. Huh. Look at that. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to collect himself. It didn’t work. “What do you want?” he rasped.
“At the risk of sounding clichéd, revenge. You ruined my life, Stark.”
Tony snorted humorlessly. “Listen, I can't keep track of all the lives I've ruined. If you'd like, you can file for reimbursement with my office and we'll get back to you within three to five business days.”
“I don't need your money,” the voice replied disdainfully, “but you will pay. For your own life, or if you're feeling generous, the lives of your friends.” Tony didn't even hesitate.
“Name your prices.” He opened his eyes and glared around the room. There was no way he was going to let others suffer for his mistakes.
“Hm. One punishment of my choice.”
“Per person?”
“Normally yes, but these are some good people we're talking about. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to recall that a good man is worth, what,
ten of you
?”
Ouch. That hit a little too close to home. For once Tony couldn't think of a witty retort; he just winced and hung his head.
“Of course, you can just save yourself and let them fend for themselves-”
“No,” Tony interrupted. He raised his head again with determination. “I'll take it.”
“Are you sure? They'd never know if you didn't.”
He gritted his teeth. “I said I would take it.”
“Very well.” His captor sounded happy with his answer. “Who would you like to purchase first?”
Tony pressed his lips into a thin line. He hated that he had to make this decision. His heart screamed for him to save all of them, and made a great argument to choose each person first. In the end, logic (and though he wouldn't admit it, fatherly instinct) won out. “Peter’s only a kid. Please, he… he's just a kid.”
I'm sorry,
he cried silently.
Pepper, Steve, Rhodey, Natasha, Clint… Everyone… I'm so sorry, I promise I'll save you, but he's a kid!
“Let’s begin, then.”
Everyone was yelling.
“What does he think he's doing?!”
“That
ДУРАК
!”
“Tony, we can take it!”
“Mr. Stark…”
They all pulled at their restraints, but it was pointless. Bucky could have told them that; the technology was reminiscent of that used by HYDRA. Whoever was holding them took all the necessary precautions involved with detaining a group of superhumans. Rather than waste energy fighting against a metal chair in vain, he simply clenched his fists and braced himself for what he was going to watch.
He was worried, but not for himself. After his time as the Winter Soldier, he knew he could handle whatever was about to be thrown his way. No, he was worried about Steve. His best friend jerked back and forth in his seat and shouted Stark’s name. Bucky could see a familiar cocktail of desperation and shame in his eyes- the Captain had shared with him on several occasions how much he regretted the harsh accusations he'd thrown at the billionaire that day on the helicarrier.
“I jumped to conclusions, Buck, and I was so wrong. He's not like Howard at all; he's better.”
To hear his own words used against Stark like that probably broke his heart.
“Steve,” Bucky murmured. “Stevie, this isn't helping.” He didn't respond. Bucky sighed. This wasn't going to go anywhere. Instead he turned his head to the other side and began to speak to Natasha in Russian. <<What are you thinking?>>
Natasha grimaced. <<Tony… he's been through similar situations, but he's technically a civilian.>>
<<Do you think he will break?>>
She shook her head. <<I'm more worried that he won't know when to stop.>> He grunted in agreement. In the short time he had known the Iron Man, he'd noticed how stubborn he could be.
“All of you, quiet.” The room fell silent when the voice came over the intercom again. “I'm about to enter the room with the guest of honor. If you can behave, I'll let you watch. Try anything and I will gladly kill him before you even tap the glass.” Their chairs hissed and they were released.
Bucky stood up, stretched, and rubbed his wrist. It'd been awhile since the last time he was held captive. Pepper, Rhodey, Steve, and the child Bucky assumed was Peter rushed up to the viewing window, getting as close as they could to the barrier without touching it. The others stood back and observed grimly. There were several sharp intakes of breath as they took in the state of their resident genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, but the most affected was Peter. He ran his hands through his hair and took a step back, eyes wide.
“W-who… why….?” Pepper placed a hand on his back to steady him.
“It'll be alright,” she said, though she didn't seem too certain about it.
In the other room Tony’s head snapped up as a door swung open. A masked figure walked in toting a large black bag. He set it on the ground with a loud
thud
. “Hello, Stark. I hope you’re comfortable.” Tony stared at him with a defiant expression. After a few moments of silence, the man struck him across the face, the sharp slap whipping his head to the side. Clint winced. That was going to leave a mark. “Answer me when I speak to you.”
Tony refused to look at him. “I don't recall you asking a question,” he said dryly. Another smack. Clint groaned to himself.
Don't antagonize him, Shellhead.
“You know, you're not a very good host,” Stark continued as if nothing were wrong.
“And you're just as I remember you,
Anthony
. I won't feel bad about this at all.” He bent over and unzipped his suitcase. He rummaged around a bit before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a butcher knife. Peter began to panic.
“Oh my gosh, is he going to kill him?! That wasn't the deal, that wasn't-”
“Cut it out, kid.” Sam crossed his arms and tapped his fingers on his bicep.
Tony tensed slightly as the man approached, but his captor made no move to cut him; rather, he sliced the blade down the front of Tony’s shirt until it fell away to reveal his bare chest. The sudden exposure of the arc reactor made his breathing quicken slightly, his heart raced. He couldn't stop his mind from turning to Obadiah’s betrayal. The masked man straightened up, opened the pack of cigarettes, and glanced at Tony. “You got a light?”
Tony blinked. “I don't smoke.” It was true- he already had reduced lung capacity due to the arc reactor, and he didn't intend on screwing himself up even further. The man hummed.
“What a coincidence. Neither do I,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. With a flick of his thumb he lit the cigarette. He pulled up the bottom of his mask, took a long drag, and blew a cloud of smoke into Tony’s face, making him gag. “The stuff’s disgusting, really; I don't see why anyone would get addicted.” He twirled the cigarette in his fingers for a minute. The others watched with bated breath. Then he lunged forward and extinguished the burning embers on Tony's chest just below the collarbone. Stark let out a loud gasp of pain and bit down on his lip. Once he was sure the flame was out, the man tossed it over his shoulder. “One.”
Natasha’s blood boiled with anger. Sure, this wasn’t the most extreme form of torture the Black Widow had ever seen, but it was a cruel one. Though the pain faded quickly, it was abrupt and blinding. She’d been on the receiving end of it plenty of times before. She was used to stuff like this; Tony wasn’t. Why couldn’t it be her in the chair instead of him?
The man laughed in Tony’s face and pulled another cigarette from the pack. “You know, Stark, we could stop this right here. That was enough to buy your escape.” Tony shook his head vigorously.
“No,” he croaked out, “keep going.”
“Well, if you insist.”
Peter felt sick. This was his fault. Logically, he knew he wasn’t actually to blame, but Mr. Stark had said
his
name, not someone else’s. Each agonized sound that left his lips was for Peter.
I can take it, Mr. Stark, please let me take it! I’ll heal so fast, it won’t even leave a mark! I’ll take it for everyone else, too, and then we can all go home, I promise.
A hand appeared on his shoulder. Mr. Rhodes.
“Squirt, we wouldn’t want you in that chair for us any more than we want him there.”
Oh. He must have said all that out loud. Hesitantly, he looked up into Rhodey’s eyes. “But… he’s your best friend.” Rhodey nodded.
“Sit down, Peter.” Once they were settled on the floor, he continued. “Yes, he’s my best friend, and he’s also Pepper’s boyfriend, and your mentor, and a friend to pretty much everyone in here. He certainly means a lot to us. But what about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You mean a lot too, Peter, to a lot of people. You’re the person who makes Pepper smile when you’re so polite to her after a long day of work. You’re the kid who likes to hang out with Happy, and you’re the kid he talks about like he does his nephews. You’re the one I know I can trust to keep an eye on our favorite idiot genius when I’m not around. And to Tony… it’s not exactly my place to say this, and he’ll probably have my head when we get out of here, but… you’re really something special to him. I’m pretty sure he sees you like his son, Peter.”
Peter’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “W-what?” he finally asked, his voice cracking. Rhodey chuckled.
“You heard me right, squirt. He’d never admit it on his own, of course. He’s too scared.”
“Of what?” Peter couldn’t imagine the great Anthony Stark being scared of anything, especially something having to do with himself.
Rhodey grimaced. “Tony… he didn’t ever have a good example of how to be a father. Howard was a distant, unstable drunk, and his godfather turned out to be a sleazy, lying little-”
“Rhodes,” Clint interrupted quietly. “Pepper needs you right now.” He glanced over to where the CEO of Stark Industries stood, trembling with anger and as pale as a corpse. Rhodey sighed and stood up. His legs were stiff from sitting on the ground for so long.
“Alright.” He and Hawkeye walked over to the window where Pepper was.
“Good job distracting the kid, by the way,” Clint said under his breath. This couldn’t be easy on someone so young. Rhodey glanced back at Peter, who was still cross legged on the floor with his head in his hands.
“Could you go talk to him while I’m here? He’s taking this really hard.”
“Sure thing.” He waited until the Colonel had an arm around Potts before returning to the teenager. “Hey, kid. I’m Clint.” Peter looked up.
“I know who you are. Mr. Stark talks about you all the time.”
“Does he, now? I hope it’s only good things, or I’ll have to remind him to keep his mouth shut,” he teased. Peter snorted.
“I know you’re the one who got stuck in the vents trying to break into the lab.” Barton raised his eyebrows.
“Oh? But do you know that I’m also the one who taught Dum-E how to sing ‘Stayin’ Alive’?”
This time he got a real smile out of Peter. “Is that why Mr. Stark hates that song?”
The two of them drifted into quiet conversation as they tried to forget about the awful situation they were in.