You Had One Job
Chapter 11
Not long after Tony had been taken...
“What the hell did you do to me?” Tony asked, mutedly, as he looked at the magnet within his chest now.
He had no idea where he was, or how he'd gotten there. At least Rhodey wasn't with him. He'd made some crack about not letting him into the Fun-Vee, and Rhodey had just laughed and gotten into the other one. Tony didn't want to imagine his best friend and brother in all but blood suffering right there with him. He didn't want to think about the fact that there was a good chance they would have just killed the man and left him in the desert.
A lot of what Hera had said to him in the beginning was starting to make sense now, though he didn't understand how the magnet in his chest would become the inspiration for a source of clean energy yet. Hera, Salazar…Tony knew he had to get back to them, but didn't know how he was going to do that either, and he really wished he'd just stayed with them and got to learning magic. Maybe if he had just gone to Hogwarts, he wouldn't be in this mess.
“What I did?” The older man repeated, from his place by the fire. “What I did is save your life. I removed all the shrapnel I could, but there's a lot left, and it's headed into your atrial septum. Here, want to see? (Pulls out a bottle of shrapnel.) I have a souvenir. Take a look. (Tosses the bottle to Tony) I've seen many wounds like that in my village. We call them the walking dead, because it takes about a week for the barbs to reach the vital organs.”
“So you put an electromagnet into my chest, and hooked it up to a car battery, to keep the shrapnel from entering my heart?” Tony wondered. The man nodded, a sad smile on his face. “I owe you my life then, what's left of it.”
“We met once, you know, at a technical conference in Bern.” The man told him.
Tony grimaced. “I don't remember. That…wasn't my finest moment.”
“No, you wouldn't.” The older man replied, though more kindly than Tony thought he deserved. “If I had been that drunk, I wouldn't have been able to stand, much less give a lecture on integrated circuits. It was rather impressive.”
“Where are we?” Tony hesitated to ask.
Before the older man can answer him, loud voices sound from the other side of the metal door, and it's opened.
“Come on, stand up. Stand up!” The man insisted, standing up and raising his hands. “Just do as I do. Come on, put your hands up.”
Men walk in with guns, and suddenly Hera's words are in his head again. Make sure you know where your weapons are going, Tony, you'll regret it forever if you don't. He'd tried to keep tabs on them all, but there were holes in his security, and he hadn't been able to plug all the leaks; not if he'd wanted Obadiah unaware for as long as he could keep him that way. Those were his guns. Somewhere along the way, he'd messed up, and now these men had his fucking guns.
“Those are my guns.” He can't help but blurt out. “How did they get my guns?”
“Do you understand me? Do as I do.” The older man insisted, urgency in his voice now. One of the men with guns begins speaking, but Tony doesn't understand; though he does stand up as the older man had asked. “He says, "Welcome, Tony Stark, the most famous mass murderer in the history of America. He is honored. He wants you to build the missile. The Jericho missile that you demonstrated.”
“No.” Tony objected immediately. “I can't. I refuse.”
The men quickly pulled him from the room, and before he knew it he'd been forced to kneel in front of a deep trough of water. His head is dunked into it before he can take a proper breath, and he almost inhales water. If he hadn't spent a good chunk of time at the Addams' mansion zipping about in those tunnels, he would have. He had no idea how long they had him at it, and though while he is handling this better than anyone should, the car batter strapped to him is decidedly not; sparking a touch when water hits it. When they pull his head up out of the water again, he managed to gasp one word, hoping they will understand.
“Addams.”
He's quickly pulled from the room after that, though he can't be certain that that's why. The men put a black bag over his head, and escort him somewhere. It feels warmer all of a sudden, so he imagines he's outside. His theory is proven correct when the bag is removed. There are a lot of men, tents, and his guns. The older man is brought out as well, and the same man from before begins speaking again.
“He wants to know what you think.”
“I think you got a lot of my weapons.” Tony replied, not looking away from the man who'd ordered him to be drowned on dry land.
The man in front of him begins speaking again, and after a while the man next to him translates.
“He says they have everything you need to build the Jericho missile. He wants you to make a list of materials. He says for you to start working immediately, and when you are done, he will set you free.”
Tony flashes his best press smile, and shakes the man's hand, but replies to the older man next to him through his teeth. “No, he won't.”
“No.” The older man confirmed, also smiling. “He won't.”
“I have an idea.” Tony said, later on that night. It's cold, and the two are sitting around the fire again. “There are people who will look for me, but you're right. They won't find me, not with these mountains, but there are others who can; who will. I just have to buy them time. If you'll help me, and distract the goons whenever they come knocking, I can get us out of here. You in?”
The older man looks at him for a moment, almost as if he's evaluating him, before he replied. “I'm in.”
The next day, Tony gets to work.
“If this is going to be my work station, I want it well-lit.” Tony directed with intent, gesturing to where he needed things while the older man translated. “I want these up. I need welding gear. I don't care if it's acetylene or propane. I need a soldering station. I need helmets. I'm gonna need goggles. I would like a smelting cup. I need two sets of precision tools. I wouldn't mind some dancing girls, but something tells me they wouldn't be here any more willingly than we are, and I don't think you lot know how to have fun of the willing variety anyway.”
“I'm not translating that.” The older man quipped, but Tony can see the barely hidden smile and takes it as a win anyway.
When the men are gone, the two get to work taking apart the weapons.
“How many languages do you speak?” Tony inquired.
“A lot, but apparently not enough for this place.” The older man answered, not looking up from his work. “They speak Arabic, Urdu, Dari, Pashto, Mongolian, Farsi, Russian.”
“Who are these people?” Tony wondered.
“They are your loyal customers, Sir. They've been buying from you for quite a while.” The man informed him. “They call themselves the Ten Rings. You know, we might be more productive if you include me in the planning process.”
“But then you won't have plausible deniability, and I kind of need you clueless to pull this off.” Tony denied, shaking his head. “Unless your acting skills are Oscar worthy, it's not happening just yet.”
“What do I call you anyway?” Tony asked, while he worked to put the tiny device together. Days were starting to run together now, and he'd lost track of how long he'd been there. More and more of Hera's words were making sense these days, and he really wished he'd understood more then; even knowing that she'd warned he wouldn't till it was happening. “I've been working with you for how long now? Days? Weeks? I should know that much about you at least.”
“My name is Yinsen.” The older man, now Yinsen, replied.
“Yinsen. Nice to meet you.” Tony stated. “Sorry I wasn't sober the first time.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Yinsen returned, now looking at the little device Tony had been working on. “That doesn't look like a Jericho missile.”
“That's because it's a miniaturized arc reactor.” Tony readily admitted. “I got a big one powering my factory at home, sort of. It's mostly just for show. This one will actually work, and should keep the shrapnel out of my heart.”
“Will it help with those papers you won't let me get a proper look at?” Yinsen inquired, and Tony could just hear the good natured teasing in his voice.
“Let's get this thing in my chest first.” Tony pretended to bargain. “We can look at the papers after.”
When the miniature arc reactor is in place, Tony finally feels like he can breathe again; maybe not as deeply as before, but he can breathe. With the battery no longer attached to him, he is able to move easier as well, and he guides Yinsen over to the papers he'd been talking about. Without a word, he flattens them out to press against each other. A faint but clear image of a metal suit comes into view for just a moment before Tony removes his hands.
“That is a very dangerous plan.” Yinsen whispered. “Will it be enough to get you out of here?”
“It'll be enough to get us out of here.” Tony corrected, getting a sinking feeling in his stomach when Yinsen remains silent. “I'm not leaving you here, Yinsen. We're getting out. Together. Got it?”
After a moment, Yinsen nodded. It's not enough to make Tony feel better, but he'll cross that bridge later. He has the uncomfortable feeling of being reminded of Hera's more self destructive tendencies, and wonders if that's what he's dealing with now. After an uncomfortable moment of silence, they get to work. There's only the sound of scrapping tools for a long time after that, each sorting through their thoughts.
“You still haven't told me where you're from.” Tony tried.
“I'm from a small town called Gulmira.” Yinsen finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “It's actually a nice place.”
“Got a family?”
“Yes,” Yinsen answered, but there's something off about his voice. “and I will see them when I leave here. And you, Stark?”
“Tony.” He interjected. Yinsen looked surprised. “We've been tortured together. I think you can call me Tony.”
“Tony then.” Yinsen agreed. “You're not quite what I was expecting, not like how I remembered meeting you that first time.”
“You must have been in here for a while then.” Tony theorized, as he worked. “Found out I had a sister a little while back, a brother too. We're all messed up, I know, but I'm so lucky to have them.”
“Then you have a very strong motivation to make it out of here alive.” Yinsen concluded. “You have to make it back to your family.”
“When I asked you to help him escape Hell, I honestly hadn't expected this.” A deep baritone voice stated. “You…the whole cage…”
This time, when Hera became aware she was no longer dreaming, she noted that she sat in the dining room of what she affectionately dubbed her Incredible Trunk. She could see a tall dark skinned man standing by the kitchen window, and figured this was how Chuck had chosen to look for the time being. He looked familiar, likely another character from some really cheesy movie she and Tony had watched together. Unfortunately, she was too distracted to try and figure out who he was supposed to be portraying this time. Her best guess was James Earl Jones, especially with that deep baritone voice, but she couldn't be sure.
“I can't believe it actually worked.” Hera huffed with a tired but genuine laugh. “I figured you'd have for sure used better chains than that.”
“I believed as you suspected I did, that any who sought to free him would focus on the locks themselves. The chains seemed…unimportant in comparison.” Chuck admitted with a shrug. “Was he…receptive?”
“He didn't believe that you'd changed, or that you were at least trying, nor that you were even willing to admit that you messed up.” Hera answered, causing Chuck to grimace. “He's receptive to being freed, of course, but isn't ready to make any sort of choice on what he'd do with that freedom. He's not willing to work on himself yet either, so I've not started on the locks.”
“You did warn me he would be…resistant.” He sighed, seemingly unable to help his disappointment. Instead of commenting on it further, he made to sit with her at the table. “You look exhausted.”
“I've got a lot going on.” Hera shrugged. “It's fine.”
“I hate to burden you with more.” Chuck stated, looking uncomfortable. “Your actions in Hell have been noticed. Apparently, both demons and angels tend to notice when you steal the entirety of Lucifer's cage.”
“If I'd had the time, I might have attempted to transfigure a new one.” Hera admitted with a tired smile. “Wonder how long it would have taken them to notice then.”
Chuck laughed a little at that.
“Did you know he was going to send an entire demon army after me?” Hera inquired, amused as she watched him grimace just a touch. “Figures. I'm going to have to get him something really nice now. It's one time use, right?” Chuck nodded, looking relieved. “Thought so. How long till they find me, those that noticed? You'll probably want to steer clear of me for a bit, so they don't pick up on your presence.”
“You're concern is touching, but I've hidden this long. I'll be alright.” Chuck assured her. “Ask your question. I know you have one.”
“I need to get in contact with Death.” Hera stated, blunt and to the point, stunning Chuck into silence. “I'm not asking you to contact them for me. I'm asking how I can contact them myself. I tried reading that story, but while it insists the three brothers spoke with Death, I don't understand what they did to contact the being in the first place.”
“What do you mean?” Chuck wondered, once he'd recovered from the shock.
“It said Death showed up because the three brothers used magic to cross a dangerous river, and was angry they'd been cheated, but that just doesn't make sense.” Hera huffed, annoyed at the very idea. “I mean, this is Death we're talking about. Why would they care about three measly souls? Why hover about a bridge to get them? They're literally Death. All they had to do was wait.”
“Unless Death had another reason for being there.” Chuck posed, making her frown in thought.
“What? Like wanting to meet the brothers specifically?” Hera wondered, to which Chuck shrugged in response. “Why?”
“I'm not sure they'd appreciate me revealing that.” Chuck hedged, and Hera was reminded that even primordial beings could have personal business.
“Oh! I didn't realize it was personal like that. I suppose I should have.” Hera sighed. “Back to square one, I guess. If I can't recreate what they did, and I don't want to pry into personal business, I'm stuck. It's just…I feel like I'm being interviewed, and I have no idea what the job even is. I'd like to talk to them about that.”
“Something tells me you will, sooner than you think.” Chuck stated, and his expression became something mischievous. “So…No remarks on who I look like today?”
Hera thought about it for a moment, and decided to press her luck anyway. “You're not going to morph into a giant snake or wax poetic about baseball, are you? Tony's had me watch those movies, you know.”
The two had a laugh about that before things fell into a peaceful quiet.
“I just…still can't believe it.” Chuck muttered, seemingly unable to help himself as he looked back towards the cage again. “The whole thing…You really did that…stole Lucifer's cage…The whole thing. That's fantastic.”
The day arrived, and Hera decided to begin sorting through her various knives. It wasn't likely that she'd use any of them, but it kept her calm for the moment. A noise in the hall alerted her before her shield-brethren burst through door. She was a bit surprised to see them in full armour. While they'd been informed as to the situation, Hera had sort of assumed they'd be staying at Hogwarts, and it must have shown on her face.
“Did you really think we were going to sit here while you went off to rescue your brother?” Draco demanded, looking cross.
“Well…” Hera hedged, and realized they were all starting to look mutinous now. She sighed, and ran a hand over her face as she tried to gather her thoughts. “Guys, I'm gonna be killing people. You realize that right? No mercy. No bargaining. I'm gonna walk in there and slaughter every last person that gets in my way. I just…I thought you'd rather stay away from that? This isn't going to be like with the Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries. This will be worse.”
Hermione pinned Hera with a look then. “They took your brother, Hera. We're going.”
“Alright then,” Hera replied, something in her easing. “let's go.”
...
“James Rupert Rhodes!”
Even as a grown ass man, James flinched at being three named, and the anger in the voice that was behind it. He'd known it was coming, that she'd find out soon enough, but he'd been a bit more focused on trying to find his friend than he had worrying about his own skin. He and every soldier at that encampment quickly turned towards the sound, more than a few of them drawing their weapons. While the others hadn't expected it, he wasn't surprised to see Hera and Salazar had found their way here; though he was surprised to see the others they'd brought with them. They all looked pissed, and not one of them looked intimidated as they were surrounded.
“Care to explain?” Hera demanded, not looking at any of the other soldiers as she stormed up to him. She held up a hand, fist clinched except for the index finger pointed directly at his face, her own twisted with all the frustration she held; brows scrunched and lips pursed. “You had one job.”
“Hera-” He tried.
“One!” Hera continued, undaunted. “Keep our brother safe. Where is he right now? Not safe, I can tell ya that!”
“Hera, we're searching-” James tried again.
“In the exact opposite direction of where he is!” She snapped, cutting him off, and it dawned on him what she meant by that.
“You know where he is?” James asked quietly. “How?”
“That's not really important right now. Getting there is.” Hera stated pointedly, lowering her hand now, and he was reminded that she had a limited but useful scope of knowledge of current and future events. “Want to come with?”
He blinked in confusion for a moment. “I'm sorry. What?”
“Do you really think the only reason I showed up here was to yell at you?” Hera countered, looking at him like he was an idiot. “We're going on a rescue mission. Wanna join?”
“You can't just-” His commanding officer began, only to be cut off.
“Do you really wanna be known as the man who let Tony Stark's little sister wander around the desert in the middle of a war zone without a military escort?” Salazar demanded, scathingly. The man didn't say anything, just looked to James and gave a silent nod. “I didn't think so.”
James waited till they had all walked towards a more open and out of the way space before asking. “So, how did you all get here?”
“You ever play D&D with Tony?” Came Hera's reply.
“Not sure what that has to do with anything, but yeah.” James admitted, confused.
“Know what shadow step is?”
“Yeah…” James replied, before it dawned on him what she was saying. “Wait. You can do that? Is that something we've talked about, and I somehow forgot? Because if it is, that should be a crime. Do you know how cool that is? Is that how we're going to go get to Tony?”
“No.” She replied, and he can hear the amusement in her voice now. “We're going by boat.”
“I'm sorry, what now?” He barely managed to get out, before Hera flung a coin into the air, and he watched as it impossibly morphed into a Viking boat that sort of hovered in place. “My inner engineer is crying right now.”
He wondered how they would all fit on the boat – a skiff, he learned later – when he realized that the boat seemed to get bigger for every person that boarded it. Hera was already pressing buttons, turning dials, all around a control station that just had to have an old fashioned ship's wheel too; her two familiars somehow already on board and stationed at her side. Seeing his fellow compatriots now rushing towards them with awe on their faces was kind of nice. Hera didn't seem to be as amused. She glared at them as they approached.
“Sorry, you lot.” She called out loudly, with what was clearly mock sympathy. “Not for military use. I'm sure you understand.”
“You really don't like the military, do you?” James wondered, watching as the others all took positions about the ship now.
“James, I understand that the military is important and necessary, and I get that one can not have chaos without this, but…” Hera struggled to find the right words to express her thoughts. “they're just so orderly.”
James couldn't help but start laughing, even though he was still worried for his friend, upon hearing her say the word orderly like it was a dirty sock; something repulsive and gross, and not to be touched. As they traveled, he did note that the others were checking weapons; ones he hadn't even realized they'd had. He'd not thought Hera to be one to bring her friends into a war zone, especially not unprepared. So it stood to reason that they had likely imposed themselves when she'd tried to go it alone; another thing he knew the Stark siblings had in common, though he hadn't spent as much time around Salazar to see if he had an abundance of the trait as well. It was comforting to know that they were surrounded by such supportive friends, but a little worrying that they would follow the two of them into a war zone; and more than a little worrying that Hera was still so willing to walk into such dangerous situations with or without them.
“Setting aside the fact that I should be questioning why a bunch of teenagers thought it was a good idea to go on a rescue mission in the middle of a war zone alone, or at all.” James began, ignoring the objections that immediately followed; though he almost lost it when one of them mumbled 'but we got an adult'. “Something tells me I'm going to need a little more firepower than what I brought with me.”
“Sal, there's a compartment to your left.” Hera stated with a vague gesture in the direction. “Get him something out of there. Be careful. I haven't field tested any of them yet.”
“Hera, are you telling us that you crafted your own weapons?” Hermione inquired, her tone one of curiosity.
“Hermione, I was in hell for months with nothing to do but deal with Lucifer's bullshit.” Hera declared, and James had no idea what any of that was supposed to actually mean. “My older brother is the Merchant of Death, and he indulged my love of things that go 'boom'. Of course, I crafted my own weapons.”
“What do you call this one, Hera?” Salazar asked, snickering even as he gingerly held up what looked to be the tiniest gun in existence. James noted that it looked like the 'business end' was a long needle.
Hera looked back just long enough to see what Salazar was talking about, her eyes alight with humor once she realized which one he'd grabbed, before replying with. “Noisy Cricket.”*
James gave them both a flat look to show that he was not impressed, even as Salazar handed him the weapon; if it could be called that.
“No, no, come on, guys.” He tried to object, despite knowing it would go nowhere. “I know you two are mad at me, but this is serious. Tony's life is at stake. You all have like…badass looking weapons and magic. I get a little midget cricket?”
“Whoa!” Salazar exclaimed with what had to be fake caution as he grabbed a hold of his hand, and only then did James realize he'd been half heartedly talking with his hands again; 'weapon' in hand. “Maybe don't go waving an energy weapon around like it's a toy.”
James looked at him with incredulity, before returning his gaze to the weapon in his hand, and back again. “You for real right now? I feel like I'm gonna break this damn thing.”
AN: * I couldn't resist throwing in some Men In Black there. I'm surprised I lasted this long
Also, when Hera says 'you had one job', you all know the face you were thinking of.
