No Rest for the Genius
Climbing up a cliff was not how Tony Stark planned to spend the rest of his day. Every muscle in his body burned, reminding him of his lack of recent workouts as he pulled himself higher, hand over hand, the jagged rocks digging into his palms. That’s it, he thought bitterly. No more cliffside homes. His brain was already cataloging a mental list of flat, stable plots of land. Preferably somewhere not prone to bombing.
As he climbed, his mind shifted, running through a mental Rolodex of names, everyone who might have had a grudge, a reason to make his life more difficult, or shorter. He’d suspected someone would try to take a shot at him eventually, but he hadn’t counted on them leveling his entire home in the process. The mansion had been loaded with enough security to hold off an army, and still someone managed to blow it to pieces. That narrowed his suspect list, but he wasn’t ruling anyone out just yet.
He huffed as he reached for another foothold, the strain hitting harder than he liked to admit. “Maybe it’s time I actually put the gym to use,” he muttered, forcing himself upward.
After what felt like an eternity, he reached the top of the cliff and pulled himself over the edge, taking in what was left of his mansion. The ruins lay scattered in the aftermath, smoke and rubble stretching across the cliffside. Every painful step toward his demolished home only reinforced the damage that had been done.
Just as he was getting his bearings, S.H.I.E.L.D men appeared, rifles pointed, flanking him before he could react. Before he had a chance to question it, they were yanking him off his feet, dragging him across the rubble toward a small circle of men waiting at the center of the wreckage.
They stopped just before someone in a black trench coat and eyepatch, who turned to face Tony, a slight smirk twisting his lips. Nick Fury.
“Well, I’d offer you coffee, but I’m afraid my house is not exactly operational,” Tony said, dusting himself off as they released him.
Fury raised an eyebrow. “Stark. Thought I’d find you here, scraping yourself off the cliff.”
“Didn’t know it was bring-your-own welcoming party.” Tony looked around at the armed men. “Or that breaking and entering was in your job description.”
“Breaking and entering implies you had anything to break into,” Fury deadpanned, his voice all business as he motioned his men to keep their guns lowered.
“Always a pleasure, Director,” Tony muttered. But Fury’s demeanor shifted, the usual razor-sharp edge softened slightly.
“Tony,” Fury started, his tone unreadable. “I’m sorry about this. But we need to take you in for questioning.”
Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re joking. Me, taken in? For what?”
Fury’s face remained stony. “There are a lot of unanswered questions here. You were attacked, but we have no details, no context. Until we get answers, I’m going to need you to cooperate.”
“Questions?” Tony scoffed, resisting the hands of Fury’s guards as they moved closer. “Nick, I don’t even know what’s going on here. I’m the one getting attacked, remember?”
“Trust me, Stark, I know. But we have to be thorough and I have my orders from higher up.” Fury gave a curt nod to the agents behind Tony. “Book him. And keep him separated from the others.”
“The others?” Tony’s mouth dropped open. He glanced around, bewildered. “Nick, what others?”
Fury’s expression didn’t shift as he turned to walk away, leaving Tony in the grip of the armed men. As they began to drag him toward a waiting vehicle, Tony glanced back at the cliffside wondering if it would be easier to just throw himself back down it, as his mind raced with questions of his own.