Iron Before Steel

Strange Visitor: Iron Before Steel

Chapter 14 – Open and Close

October 31^st, 2009 – Kent Family Farm

Metropolis, IL

Steve grinned at the tiny blonde force of nature as she passed him in a blur. She screamed and laughed joyfully during the short journey through the living room as a dog playfully nipped and barked at her heels the whole way.

It was hard to believe he’d come so far in such a short time.

After waking up in a strange room to what he thought was a ruse perpetrated by Hydra, he’d collapsed in relief from the knowledge that his best friend hadn’t died as they’d all thought. Only then did he find out that he’d slept for nearly 65 years as the world continued without him. It was a lot to take in.

However, Steve Rogers was no stranger to hard times and difficult circumstances. He was beyond grateful for the chance to stand by his brother in all but blood again, no matter what else. Unfortunately, the trade-off was everyone else he’d ever known. He’d made the mental calculations instantly and realized that after six and a half decades, the odds of any other Commandos still living were low. Dum-Dum Dugan was the only one left.

And Peggy.

That was even harder to rationalize at the moment. He buried it all quickly, though, and embraced Bucky gladly. They’d figure things out. He wasn’t alone here, so the worst was already behind him.

How wrong that assessment had been.

His rescuers and Buck then went on to explain what had happened to end the war and gave a quick summary of a few of the highlights of the past sixty years. They’d left after leading him back to the small apartment they’d set aside for him to recover. Bucky shared that it was even the same room they’d put him in during his own convalescence months earlier.

As soon as everyone had gone, Bucky explained why he needed that time and healing.

Steve’s blood boiled even now, weeks later, knowing that Hydra was still out there. Hidden. Lurking behind the facade of the very organization that had risen from the ashes of the war that Steve had helped bring to an end.

The fact that it had poisoned and perverted the agency created by his friends to make the world a better place made Steve burn with righteous indignation. How dare they? All the horrible things they had forced Bucky to do, all the killings.

Howard.

Chester Phillips, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark had built SHIELD as a testament and monument to Steve and the ideals that he had espoused during humanity’s darkest days. They forged it from the tempered steel of the SSR into an organization that they could all be proud of—something to be admired and an inspiration.

To know that Hydra was the dark heart beating at the center was beyond infuriating.

But all was not lost. Bucky had been working with his new friends to identify and track many of their agents hiding in those shadows, even as they were protected under SHIELD’s umbrella and waiting for their moment to strike. Efforts had been underway for months, and they looked to continue their own Secret War against evil, even if it was only in the planning stage. It was comforting. The fight would continue, and Hydra would never see them coming. Steve didn’t know who he was without something to fight for.

But not today.

Today was about celebration and family. Steve had been quickly folded into this little family like he had been born into it. It was welcoming in a way he hadn’t felt since his mother passed all those years ago.

Steve looked around the room, glancing at streamers and decorations in black and orange everywhere. Posters of scary monsters… well, cartoonish monsters… and witches, black cats, pumpkins, and other Halloween décor were placed on every wall and piece of furniture in the room. A large banner was hung across the room with the words “Happy Hallow-Birthday Kara” emblazoned across it.

Steve smiled as he glanced at the people there.

Bucky was standing beside a large tub of water, apples bobbing across its surface. His buddy was dressed in a grey tunic cinched by a black belt at the waist. A red cape was draped over his shoulders, while a foam sword and shield combo sat next to him on a chair. Kara had decided that he would be Prince Valiant since he was ‘already wearing armor all the time.’ Steve found out later that Disney had done a version of Sleeping Beauty after his disappearance.

The little girl whose Halloween birthday they were celebrating had decided on the costumes for the attendees weeks prior, he’d been told and was something of a Disney fanatic. Steve had harbored a secret dream of becoming an animator for that young company before the war, so he found more than a bit of humor and enjoyment in looking at the costumes.

Buck’s new(est) gal, Lana, was a knockout. Her red hair was styled in a riot of unbound curls, and her lovely blue dress was made complete with the fake bow-and-arrow set she wore on her back. He didn’t know who ‘Merida’ was, but he added it to the list in the small notebook he had in his pocket.

Disney had grown some in his absence, he’d discovered.

The birthday girl was dressed as a tiny Peter Pan—also a Disney classic from just after the war—and she was devoted to that particular film. She zoomed past him again, with her arms wide beside her.

“I’m flying, I’m flying! Look, Papa!” She called to her father nearby.

The man in question looked down at the beaming child with a smile. “So I see! Just make sure not to fly too far. We’ll be eating some snacks soon. You know how your Gramma likes to cook?" The little girl continued her ‘flight’ about the room, the ever-present dog bounding at her feet, and rushed into the adjacent dining room.

Judging by the smells from the kitchen, Steve would be happy with those snacks, too.

“Yo, don’t you even think about digging into that cake, small fry! I told you I got dibs on that,” called out the man named Pete. He was standing just inside the dining room with one hand resting on a chair at the table as the child buzzed past him. She giggled as he took a half-hearted swipe at her with the fake plastic hook covering one of his hands. Pete was dressed as the dastardly Captain Hook of the same film from which the girl’s costume was taken. His impressive coat, hat, and wig were made all the better by the peg leg he had donned for the party.

He’d been informed that Pete was another army veteran like Buck and himself. He’d lost that leg in some act of heroism that had earned the man a Medal of Honor. Steve hadn’t had many opportunities to speak with Pete over the past few days, but he seemed jovial. The boisterousness reminded him of Dum Dum Dugan, just with a less vulgar sense of humor.

Several of the so-called X-Men were also present and graciously accepted costumes from the girl upon their arrival.

The blue-furred Doctor Henry McCoy was Kara’s favorite by far. She’d squealed in delight when she saw the “doggy-man” who came to her first party and had given him a seat of honor immediately. She told the bewildered and amused doctor that he was “better than Clifford” - whoever that was.

The stunning blonde was seated in a chair near Buck and his dame was Emma Frost. She was likely the most physically attractive woman he’d ever laid eyes on, which was saying something after some of the women he’d seen Buck with in the past. She was dolled up in a white and blue dress as Alice and seemed pleased as punch to be there. Her grin was almost predatory when he happened to make eye contact with the woman.

A dark-skinned woman with snow-white hair was dressed as Snow White, which Kara had loved. Another redhead, Jane perhaps, was wearing a mermaid tail and a nude-colored shirt with a seashell bra over it. Kara jumped into 'Ariel’s' arms without hesitation, even though they’d never met before today. Apparently, The Little Mermaid was a close second for her favorite Disney film.

Sergeant James Howlett, or Logan as he went by now, was loitering near the front door, likely about to sneak out for another cigar. That Howlett hadn’t aged a day in over six decades shocked Steve's system. Finding out the former Army sergeant was a long-lived mutant with unparalleled healing powers did explain how the man had escaped the war unscathed. They called him Sergeant Luck back then, except Dugan, who called him something far less repeatable.

When they arrived, Kara welcomed Howlett to the party, and he graciously accepted a small hat and shorts-with-suspenders combo that identified him as Pinocchio. Steve laughed out loud at how odd the man looked, but Kara found it perfect. Falsworth would have found it hilarious.

The party's host, Martha Kent, floated through the room. She had a tray of small sandwiches easily balanced in one hand while a large teapot was in the other. “I’ve got some more snacks here for everyone. There’s also more in the kitchen if you’d like. A few, shall we say, adult beverages that you might find more appealing than tea.” Mrs. Kent threw a subtle look at Howlett, who had already changed his direction away from the front door and toward the kitchen.

It would appear that a cold beer still trumped a lit cigar in Howlett's book. That brought up a few memories for Steve, though from his perspective, they weren’t that old—a few months for some, a year or two for others.

Steve turned his attention back to the sketch pad in his lap, a gift from the Kents when he had arrived with Buck and Lana the previous day. The grinning child thrust the pad and set of colored pencils into his hands and immediately proclaimed him her new ‘Uncle Steve.’ Bucky snorted and shook his head as Lana explained that the little girl had a habit of collecting aunts and uncles quickly.

The scene on the pad was a simple sketch of the group before him, from little Kara’s blonde hair tucked into the green cap to the furry blue Doctor McCoy. With everyone in costume, it made for a rather hilarious collection of characters.

“Wow. The history books mentioned that you were a natural artist, but I think the only one I’ve ever seen was the sketch of yourself as a dancing monkey from your old touring days.” Clark Kent had wandered over to glance at the sketch Steve was working on.

Steve looked up at the man. He, too, was dressed for the party at little Kara’s insistence. He was wrapped in a bright red robe, with brown shoes on his feet and white gloves covering his hands. The outfit was topped off by a semi-floppy, conical blue wizard’s hat - complete with gold embossed stars and crescent moons. Steve recognized the Micky Mouse costume from Fantasia, which he’d seen just before the war.

“I spent a lot of time in the hospital and indoors as a kid. There were only so many things a kid could do inside in those days, and Ma scrounged up some art supplies once when I was about six, I think—kept at it after that. I almost went to art school before she died. It wasn't long after that the war started, and the rest, as they say, is history.” Steve shrugged after his brief explanation.

He’d never much cared for praise, as it made him uncomfortable - especially after the serum. But his art was something he’d always taken a small amount of pride in. He thought it went back to the connection to his Ma. She’d been a bit of a doodler herself.

Clark nodded to that, the hat perched on his head, flopping back and forth as he did.

“I understand. It's a pity you weren't able to pursue it more. You definitely have talent. Maybe it’s something you can pick back up once you establish yourself here—after you can reveal yourself, of course.”

After his talk with Bucky and the others, they decided it would be best for him to keep in the shadows for now. Hydra was likely still on the lookout for Buck, so God only knows what they would do if word got out that he was also back from the dead. Steve and Bucky would be planning and researching Hydra and its capabilities so that they and Clark, perhaps with the help of Xavier’s best students, could strike the fatal blow once and for all when the time came.

“Yeah, maybe. I’d never thought much about what I might do with my life after the war. It was always going from one fight, one battle, to the next. I wasn’t even sure that I’d be allowed to live a normal life after the serum. Just a dream, I guess.” Steve reached into his pocket and felt the smooth, hard surface of the brass compass he kept close as his thoughts drifted to the one person he had ever considered a possible life with, however briefly.

“Well, we will have to make sure you get settled as quickly as possible,” Clark grinned. “This may not be the world you grew up in, but I think you’ll find plenty to love about the place. You gave up a lot to be here, Steve, so you deserve to find a place to belong here more than anyone. I’ve been glad to help Bucky, and I’ll also be glad to help you. Did anyone tell you what I do for a job?”

Steve’s brow furrowed at the question. “No, I don’t believe it’s come up so far. What kind of work do you do?”

Clark’s grin got bigger. “I’m a writer.” He pointed to a small shelf next to the fireplace set into the wall. It was mostly empty, with only four books sitting on the shelf. “I’ve written and published four books now. I’ve used two different pseudonyms; I like my privacy. One is a novel for adults about the world of espionage. The main character is a SHIELD agent – most people don’t know what SHIELD does here. Two are a series of young adult adventure novels, though I’m told that quite a few adults enjoy them. And the last one is an illustrated book for children.” Clark gave him a pointed look. “I rotate which book series I’m working on each year, and next year is slated for my next children’s book. I just heard from my publisher a couple of weeks ago that the illustrator who worked on my first book won’t be available for this next one, so it just so happens that I’m in the market for someone handy with a pencil or paintbrush. Know anyone who might fit the bill?”

Steve blinked. “You want me to draw pictures for your book? I’ve never done anything professionally, just doodles and sketches. I don’t know if I’m good enough for something like that.”

Clark just nodded. “I don’t think that will be a problem, Steve, from looking at that sketch in your lap,” the man pointed to the now closed pad resting across his legs. "Kelex and I can even help set you up with a good pen name. There's nothing wrong with earning a bit of money as we plot to overthrow our evil secret government overlords, is there?” Clark winked at him and sipped the drink in his hand.

Steve couldn’t help but grin in return. Maybe it won't be so bad here in the future after all. Between Buck and his new friends, he was far from alone.

________________________________________

November 26th, 2009

Martha Kent looked around the room with a smile.

It had been years since her home had been this full regularly. Not since she was a child visiting her grandparents' house were so many seats taken around the dinner table at once.

Pete and his parents were here. Martha was having a tough time keeping from laughing at the look on Atticus Ross' face as he tried not to stare at the two living legends sitting across the table from him.

Pete had begged Clark to share the secret with his father. As a former Army captain, the man still had many contacts in the military and could help them in a pinch. He was also something of a Captain America junkie, as Jonathan had been, and was struggling to keep himself in check with both Captain Rogers and his best friend James (she would never call him Bucky… that was something you named the dog or a cartoon squirrel) at the table.

Ella, Pete’s mother, couldn’t have cared less. As usual, she chatted up a storm with everyone. Martha grinned at her friend’s ability to connect with people.

Lana was seated next to James. They did make a handsome pair. No one seemed to know if that’s what they were, officially, but it was only a matter of time.

Clark was seated on Lana’s other side, with Kara between her and her son.

It was a lovely holiday, and she hadn’t felt so… thankful… for quite a few years. This was the eighth Thanksgiving holiday since Jon had passed, and this was the first time it felt like home again. She would miss her husband for the rest of her days, but she felt the sting of his loss a little bit less with each day.

Martha Kent looked at the friends and family around her with fondness and love as a gentle smile slowly spread across her face. She glanced down at her “granddaughter,” who was most definitely not trying to sneak another piece of turkey to the dog that most certainly wasn’t hiding under the table at the little girl’s feet. She looked over Kara’s head to see her son smiling back at her, having also caught Kara.

Martha grinned at her son and thanked whoever was looking down on her family for their little moments of happiness.

Now, she just needed to find someone who could also make her son happy.

One miracle at a time.

________________________________________

December 19th, 2009

Clark collapsed onto the couch in front of the living room television. He’d finally gotten Kara settled in bed for the night - Barkley nestled next to her, of course. He looked forward to a quiet, relaxing evening for the next few hours.

His mother smiled at him from a chair nearby. “You look a little worn out there, Clark. I’d say I feel bad for you, but I remember you at the same age and how much of a handful you were for your father and me, so…,” she laughed as she trailed off, and Clark rolled his eyes at her lighthearted teasing.

“Uh-huh. Nice, mom. Revenge doesn’t suit you, by the way. The little muppet is finally out. It only took two bedtime stories tonight. I will need to brush up on my Christmas lore, though. She’s obsessed and doesn’t look to be giving it up any time soon,” Clark retorted. Kara had taken to the holiday season like a fish to water. It was a struggle not to give in to his urge to buy every toy she was interested in and keep from spoiling the little girl.

He wondered how his parents had kept that desire at bay.

His mother laughed as she tossed him the remote to the television and went back to knitting what appeared to be a holiday-themed scarf. It was either for Kara or Barkley, though frankly, with as much as the child shared with the dog, it would end up wrapped around his furry body at some point either way.

Clark flipped on the screen and was greeted by a newscaster mid-report. He frowned as he glanced at the clock, which showed a later hour than expected.

Strange, there shouldn’t be a news broadcast at this hour.

Clark turned up the volume as the anchor continued his report mid-sentence.

[“… and now there seem to be two massive metal monstrosities battling the armored hero, Iron Man, in the middle of the Los Angeles freeway. Gail, can you tell us more about what is happening? Anything more about these assailants or where they came from?”]

The screen switched to a darkened and damp highway in the middle of a city. Traffic was at a standstill, as rows and rows of brake lights could be seen stretching into the background. The correspondent and cameraman were situated atop an overpass above the highway, and a little over half a block away, a large grey armored form was battering a smaller red and gold one and then tossed it into the nearby city bus.

The scene was instantly recognizable to Clark as the climactic battle between Obediah Stane and Tony Stark from the first Iron Man film. He had been expecting this confrontation for some time now, as the timeline had never been clearly stated.

What surprised Clark, though, wasn’t that the fight was happening but that an extra combatant was involved.

Why are there two Iron Monger suits?!

A fireball lit up the scene as the first hulking suit fired a small missile into the bus that Iron Man had just been casually tossed through. As Stark’s armor stopped itself from falling with glowing thrusters on its hands and feet, a second missile streaked past, narrowly missing the hero. It exploded against the side of a nearby building in the background, spewing glass and flaming debris below.

There shouldn’t have been two of them. Who was in the second suit?

Clark felt goosebumps rise across his skin as a chill swept through him. This unexpected development threatened to upend the delicate course of events that would result from this battle… the world would need Iron Man and Tony Stark in the coming years. Could Stark defeat two armored foes this early in his hero career?

Did I do this somehow?

Clark swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at his mother, who was staring at the battle on the screen in horror. One of the two attackers, likely Stane, was now in the process of rocketing into the sky after Stark, while the other had turned and headed toward the nearby buildings. She turned to look at him then, a question in her eyes that would go unasked. He answered it with a nod and then rushed towards the stairs.

He bounded up as quietly as possible to not wake the sleeping child in the room at the end of the hallway.

He ducked into his childhood bedroom on the opposite side of the floor, peeled off his shirt, and kicked off his sneakers. His trusty blue T-shirt lay on the bed, freshly laundered—thank you, mother—next to the familiar brown jacket. He quickly donned the shirt and pulled the coat over his shoulders. He turned to grab his well-worn brown boots, which sat at the foot of the bed, when he saw himself in the mirror.

The unmistakable red ‘S’ shield of Superman stood out on the chest of his shirt, opened just far enough to reveal the symbol. Clark took off his glasses, unneeded as they were, and set them on the dresser next to the mirror. He pulled up the hood of the jacket and let the shadows fall across his face, but for the first time he could remember, he didn’t zip up the coat. He wasn’t ready to reveal his face to the world, but maybe it was time to let something else be seen.

That bright red symbol, the Kryptonian glyph for hope, would be as familiar in this world as it had been in the old one—at least, Clark hoped it would be.

Maybe this was the day to let it begin.

He quietly closed the door behind him and swiftly descended the staircase. His mother stood at the foot of the stairs, a sad smile gracing her features.

“I have to go, Ma. I can help stop this,” he said reluctantly. “Hopefully, I’ll be back soon; I don’t think this will take all night.”

She nodded. “I know. It’s why you’re here. It’s what we raised you to do… help people. Just be careful out there; you’ve got your own little family to come back to, yes?” She raised her eyebrows at the last question as if trying to remind him that someone else depended on him now. He smiled and pulled his mother into a quick hug.

“I’ll never forget that, ma. I’ll always do everything possible to come home.”

And with that, Clark Kent sprinted into the night, and a thunderous boom echoed in the distance.

________________________________________

Triskelion – Washington, D.C.

Director’s Office

“Goddamn it, Coulson. Report! We lost you in that last exchange. What the hell is going on out there? I swear to God if I have to come out there because you’re dead, I am going to reanimate your corpse so that I can kill you again!”

Nick Fury stared at the large display screen in his office. Coulson had called in maybe half an hour prior with news that he was headed to Stark Industries. Tony’s assistant had proof that Obediah Stane had been illegally selling weapons to terrorists and was behind the abduction and attempted murder of Stark himself.

Fury had immediately assembled his task force and had a Quinjet prepped in case they needed more boots on the ground. May and Morse had joined Coulson out west several days prior. Stark had refused to be debriefed, so perhaps Morse could… encourage… him to be more forthcoming with his information and attention. May was there because sometimes an ass-kicking was required instead.

Sometimes, it pays to have both the stick and carrot ready.

The rest of his team was in the office with him now. Hill, Drew, and Carter sat on the couch nearby – all three tense and waiting for the word to be given to head to the hangar.

Simmons, Fitz, and Economos were also on edge as they sat around the small table he kept in his office. If the call was made, they would likely stay behind for tech and oversight support, but they would still be part of the action.

Barton and Romanoff both stood behind him near the window, stiff and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Barton had been just about out of town. Officially, it was for a recon mission, but in reality, he was given leave for the week to spend Christmas with his family. Romanoff had been set to join him. They received his call just before leaving town.

The screen everyone was focused on showed the concrete floor of Stark Industries' labs. Coulson had taken cover behind some of the machinery in Section 16 of the manufacturing facility's high-security wing. At least two of the agents who had accompanied him were down—injured or worse—and the rest were at risk.

Coulson’s voice finally whispered a reply: “Still here, boss. Jamison is likely dead. I don’t know about Jenkins. Morse and May are on the other side of the room. Miss Potts managed to escape from Stane, at least momentarily. The suit he has here is… advanced. It's bigger and has more guns than Stark’s own, but from what we've seen, it's not as maneuverable or fast. That’s the good news.”

Fury blinked. “That’s the good news? What the hell is the bad news, then?”

Coulson answered, “There’s a second unit. And we have no idea who’s in it. Stark managed to draw them away for a moment, but one of them is back now. We had to take cover when it opened fire on us outside. I'm not sure if it's Stane or the other, but we are definitely pinned down. Our sidearms aren’t going to cut it with targets like this. Even Stark was having trouble with their armor.”

Fury scanned the room. Even if he called it, they’d never arrive in time. The fastest Quinjets could only manage a bit over Mach 2, putting them about two hours away at best.

He should have sent the whole damn team when they found out about Stane’s activities.

“Alright, you do whatever you can to stay alive. Keep Ms. Potts in one piece, also. I’ll call the Joint Chiefs to see what kind of military hardware we can get onsite in a pinch. Keep your head down-” Fury was interrupted by the wailing of an alarm on his desk – the laptop they had connected to the sensor web.

Fitz was there instantly as Fury looked on. “We’ve got a hit! St. Louis, five seconds ago. Looks like something on the ground just passed by at more than Mach 1!”

Well, I’ll be damned. 'Bout time.

“Hold tight, Phil. Fitz, give me some good news,” he called out to the young man typing on the keyboard.

“Whatever it was, it’s much smaller than a car. I can’t give you much more than that, but it was speeding up when it left sensor range. News is reporting the events in Los Angeles across the country, though. It could very well be him. We have no idea how long it will take him to get there. Even with a head start, it might take him longer to get there than it would for our team in a Quinjet.”

Fury turned back to the screen and the open comm line with Coulson.

“Phil, hang tight. It looks like you may have backup on the way. Get to safety and don’t engage if you can avoid it, but get Potts out of there. We’ll need her testimony to make any charges stick - officially, at least. I’m guessing she still has the evidence as well?”

“Yup. Didn’t have a chance to grab anything from her before things went to hell. She’s outside. We were cut off during Stane’s emergence in the suit.”

Fury swore. Nothing was ever easy in this line of work.

“Alright, have May and Morse coordinate to grab her and then withdraw. You and the remaining agents at your disposal will only engage if necessary to draw any fire away from Potts and her escort. Understood?”

“Clear, sir. We’ll get it done. But anything you can do about that backup would be appreciated. Yesterday, if possible.”

Fury didn’t delay in calling for some support for his agents. A quick call to his contact with the Joint Chiefs, who was also watching the proceedings live on air, had a promised Special Ops team with much heavier weaponry already fueling up at nearby Los Angeles Air Force Base in El Segundo. Once they were ready, it would still take them fifteen minutes to reach Stark Industries in a Blackhawk. They were also dispatching a missile destroyer from 32nd Street Station, but that would take at least a couple of hours to reach LA.

The team watched as Coulson barked out orders to his subordinates. May and Morse ducked out of the picture quickly after receiving their mission, while Coulson and his last three agents set up to follow and cover their escape.

Fury heard Hill’s intake of breath - the closest she got to being surprised - when the exterior wall exploded inward on the screen to Coulson’s left. Dust and particulates wafted through the air after the debris had crashed down. It gave the screen an eerie veil that obscured much of the room.

A large, bright circle of light bobbed into view, smaller lights cutting through the haze in the room as one of the Iron Monsters stalked into the lab.

Coulson called out for his agents to open fire as several reports sounded through the audio indicating that they obeyed. Coulson’s sidearm could be seen doing the same in the center of the screen. He aimed for the eye slots in the armor, hoping to find a seam or weak point in the defense.

A loud, low, metallic laugh reverberated through the room—both in LA and through the screen in Washington. Obediah Stane’s modulated voice cut through the sounds of the agents' desperate attacks.

“Pistols? You brought pistols to arrest a man with access to the largest and most advanced armory on the planet? No wonder our government is laughed at across the globe. If you’re the best we offer, I need to find better clients to parcel out my wares after this is all over. I've got a reputation to maintain, after all.” Stane’s taunting laugh could be heard as he raised a giant gauntlet and unleashed gunfire into the room. No one screamed, so he’d either done so blindly, or Coulson’s team had been able to get behind cover. “I wish I had more time to play with you crazy kids, but I’m afraid my colleague isn’t up to dealing with Tony Stark alone. I'll have to cut this demo a bit short this evening. Thank you for your years of support, though.”

Fury could hear the smirk on the man’s face behind the metal mask as a missile extended from the shoulder of the hulking armored suit. He heard Coulson’s tired exhale as he realized that the weapons dealer was going to destroy the entire room and everyone in it, as well as as much evidence of his crimes as possible.

Coulson screamed a warning to his agents, but before the weapon could be fired, a crash echoed through the screen. A gleaming silver blur crashed into Stane’s form, flinging it back through the wall and into the courtyard.

A silver figure stood in the middle of the room; Coulson’s camera showed it clearly. It was almost identical to Stark’s Iron Man armor but unpainted or tinted. Its metallic finish nearly glowed on the screen as it faced down the larger, duller suit that was climbing back to its feet.

Barton broke the sudden silence. “Is that our guy? I don’t remember hearing about a Stark suit in our debriefings. Was he working with Stark the whole time?”

Romanoff scoffed as she shook her head in the negative.

Another loud alarm from his laptop drew his attention back toward his desk, where Fitz was still watching the sensor net readout.

“Another ping, this time from… Oklahoma City!”

Fury did a bit of math in his head, or at least tried to. “How far is that?”

“Almost 500 miles in less than…,” Fitz glanced at the clock on his wall before continuing, “eight minutes. My God, that’s at least Mach 5.”

The room was silent for a moment before Fury responded. “Then who the fuck is this guy!?” as he gestured to the screen where the newcomer was trading physical blows with the once-again upright Stane.

The two steel-clad figures battled back and forth for a minute or so, the smaller of the two dealing out surprisingly powerful blows while adeptly dodging many of the slower, lumbering attacks from Stane’s mount.

Coulson’s voice returned to the room.

“Thanks, boss. Looks like the backup you ordered is here. Is it one of ours?”

Fury shook his head, even though he knew Coulson couldn’t see him. “That’s not the backup I was talking about. We’ve got a SOCOM team out of LAAFB heading your way now, but they’re still at least 10 minutes out. A missile destroyer from San Diego is also en route but won’t be there soon. The backup I was talking about is still somewhere in the Great Plains.”

Another wail from the computer grabbed their attention. Fitz called out, "Albuquerque! Mach 10 and climbing!”

Fury’s jaw dropped. Coulson snatched his attention back.

“Is Albuquerque in the Great Plains? I thought it was more like the Southwest.”

Fury growled. “Not the time to be funny, Phil. Backup of the enhanced kind is closer than we thought. At least, I hope he’s backup. Keep your heads down and only help the new guy if you have to!”

He stepped over to the screen in the middle of the room as his team gathered around him. They watched as the two technological titans continued to fight on the monitor, unable to do anything more.

Stane finally appeared to gain the upper hand, flinging the new arrival into the machinery that cluttered the room and repeatedly pounding him into the floor. Stane extended an arm and ripped a large metal shard from one of the nearby machines. He kept the Steel Man pinned under one massive foot and raised the shard high over his head.

Coulson called out, and the SHIELD agents again opened fire on Stane to try to return the favor for their unexpected rescue. It went about as well as last time.

Stane huffed in annoyance at the interruption, swatting at the hail of bullets with the unoccupied gauntlet. His deep, metallic voice boomed in frustration and irritation. “Really? Again, with this useless posturing? I expected better from highly trained government agents. I’m tired of this pointless waste of my time. I’ve got more important people to kill tonight.”

With that, Stane fired a burst from the canon on the empty-handed gauntlet. The screen moved to show the room's back wall as Coulson ducked behind cover again, under direct fire from the Iron Monger.

Fury could do nothing but curse from his office across the country. “Motherfucker! Coulson, you there? You better not be dead on me, Agent!”

The screen remained upright, indicating Coulson hadn’t gone down but was still hunkering behind cover as more gunfire echoed through the room.

The sound abruptly vanished as a much louder crash drowned out the stutter of firearms.

Fury and his team watched the screen shift with Coulson as the man stood and peeked out of his safe cover to assess what had happened. Coulson’s voice then broke the sudden silence.

“I think that backup you promised is here, boss.”

Coulson stepped out from behind the steel support strut he’d been using for protection, and the picture revealed the situation.

Stane’s massive suit of armor was gone - off the screen entirely - while in his place in the middle of the room stood a figure they’d become quite familiar with over the past 18 months. A man in a dark jacket with a hood pulled up to shadow his face stood above the prone figure of the “Steel Man” who’d been fighting Stane for the past few minutes. This time, the jacket was unzipped to reveal a blue shirt beneath with a bright red 'S' written across the chest.

Fury barked as he pointed at the screen. "What's that on his chest? Have we seen that before?"

The Marvel looked down at the metal-clad combatant and said something that the microphone included in the camera Coulson wore couldn't quite pick up. He reached down with one hand and, with a quick pull, hoisted his much larger and heavier armored ally to his feet. The two stood face to face briefly before a roar blasted through the speakers.

Stane charged back into the room from the hole in the wall that he’d been tossed through when "backup" arrived.

Fury noted the panic that the man was now exhibiting in his actions. Gone was the cocky assuredness and smugness that Obediah Stane had long worn as part of his public persona.

“This is my company! I built this empire! I wouldn’t let Tony Stark take what is mine, and I sure as hell won’t let you worthless bastards take it either! I’ll burn it down before I hand it over!”

Stane swung wildly on the screen at the Marvel, who effortlessly ducked under the blow and spun behind the massive suit of armor protecting the mad businessman. Instead of continuing forward to engage the foe before him - the Steel Man - Stane tried an even wilder backhand blow at his other opponent.

The man caught the massive gauntlet with one arm.

The following blow shook the camera feed and caused Coulson to step back as they watched. Stane’s figure careened across the screen—right into the Steel Man's metal fist. Stane bounced back toward the unarmored figure, who proceeded to volley the weapons dealer between him and the Steel Man for the next few seconds.

He bounced back and forth, blow after blow, and it only stopped when the Marvel grabbed one of Stane’s flailing arms, arresting his momentum.

“That’s got to be the most impressive game of tetherball I’ve ever seen,” Barton snickered from behind.

Before anyone else could add more comic styling, one of Stane’s metal arms was ripped off in a shower of sparks. The Steel Man grabbed Stane’s other arm, pinning it in place, and the Marvel then plunged his hands into the chest of Stane’s armor like a pair of knives.

Everyone in the room, both there and in Fury’s office, heard the sound of screeching steel. The armor was then peeled back like a ripe banana, revealing Obediah Stane's bewildered face beneath. As the two victorious champions loomed over the defeated Stark Chairman of the Board, Coulson’s radio suddenly chirped to life.

“Everyone take cover, explosion imminent!” Bobbi Morse’s voice crackled to life through Phil’s communicator.

Agent Coulson ordered his team into cover as the Marvel and Steel Man looked off-screen where a looming blue glow was growing. A moment later, a flash of bluish-white light swept across the screen, and static replaced the visual signal of the camera.

“Coulson! Report! What the hell was that?” Fury screamed.

Silence and static were the only answers for several long minutes as Fury and his tech team attempted to re-establish contact with their fellow agents in the field. Finally, the screen began to flash, and Phil Coulson’s smiling face replaced the view of digital snow.

“All clear, sir,” the steadfast agent immediately reported into the tiny camera he was now holding. “There was an EMP event, set off by Stark and Miss Potts, that took down all the electronics in the area momentarily. It might have been the whole city. Stark detonated the building’s prototype ARC reactor to bring down the other hostile in the field. We’ve got Stane in custody now; the other was killed in the blast.”

Fury didn’t hesitate. “Who was the other hostile?”

Coulson replied with some displeasure. “According to Stark, it’s the man who took him captive in Afghanistan. Raza is the only name he could give me. We’re in the process of securing the location, but Stark has already clamped down on the suits that were being used. He’s claiming them to be stolen property of Stark Industries. He’s got his lawyers already on the way, and one of them is already working on getting an injunction to prevent us from taking possession of Stane’s knockoff Iron Man suits.”

“Are you kidding me? Goddamn it, Stark!” Fury snapped. Barton started laughing behind him, which didn’t help his quickly soured mood. “Shut up, Barton, or you’ll be Sitwell’s intern for the next two weeks.” Fury turned back to the screen. “Do whatever you need to, Coulson, but keep those suits on the premises. I want at least part of one back here-”

Coulson cut him off. “It’s too late. Stark’s own suits were shielded from the blast, and they’ve already removed Stane’s - Stark’s partner has flown off with the wreckage. The second is still here, but Stark isn’t budging. I even threatened to arrest him. He told me to go ahead, but he won't go until the suits are secured. Miss Potts called in another set of lawyers for that.”

“Motherfucker!” Fury shouted. Romanoff smirked up at him, and he could hear Hill and some others snicker behind him. “Fine, let it drop. We’ll save the hardball stuff for later, but I want an immediate debrief with him and Potts. Find out everything.” Fury thought momentarily before adding, “Is our backup still there?”

Coulson shook his head on the screen. “No. He was gone with the flash from the ARC overload. We didn’t have a chance to ID him or even speak.”

Fury huffed. “Did you get a good look at him, at least?”

Again, Coulson shook his head in the negative. “Sorry, boss. Things were a little hectic here, and it’s a lot darker in this lab at night with all the lights out. I don’t think we saw his face other than Stark’s mystery friend. We only noticed that stylized 'S' symbol on his shirt. I’ll press for more from Mr. Stark but won't hold my breath.”

They couldn’t catch a break tonight.

Fury looked over at Fitz, still at the laptop monitoring the sensor net, but the young man’s shake of his head told him that nothing had popped up on that front. He wasn’t in as much of a rush to get home… or wherever the man had been when this started.

Still, it was better than nothing. That symbol on his chest was someplace to start. He'd put the techs on it first thing tomorrow.

“Fine. Get it done, Phil. Let’s start working on a cover story ASAP. I’ll be on the first Quinjet out there in the morning and send you any notes I’ve got on what else we need. Good job not dying today, Phil. At least one thing went well.”

Coulson nodded and added, "Two things. Jamison and Jenkins are both alive, too. Emergency services are on the way, but I’ll keep you updated on their condition.”

With that, Coulson cut the link, and the screen went black. Fury grabbed the remote and switched off the monitor before rounding his desk and shooing Fitz out of his chair, into which he promptly collapsed with an overly dramatic sigh.

Fury looked around the room at his team, each looking back at him for orders or insight.

“Well, that was an unexpected evening. But at least it wasn’t boring. You’ve all got the week off except you, Hill. You’ll be running things here with me in California. Go home and get some rest, people. Enjoy your holiday unless you hear back from me.”

The agents didn’t waste any time heading for the exit, excitedly chattering and gossiping with each other about the events they’d all just witnessed through Phil Coulson’s efforts.

After a minute, Fury was alone in his office. He slowly stood, then gathered his keys from the drawer on his desk. Before leaving for the night, he looked down at his still-open laptop. The string of sensors showed the path the Marvel had blazed across more than half of the continental United States less than an hour before.

Fury turned the laptop to face him directly as he looked down and focused on one of the flashing dots.

“St. Louis. Now, why in the hell were you in St. Louis tonight?”

There was no answer to his question. Not yet, at least.

________________________________________

December 19th, 2009 – Kent Family Farm

Metropolis, IL

Clark quietly closed the door behind him as he stepped into the living room of his parents' house.

The ordeal took less than three hours from start to finish, but it felt like a lifetime for him. Events had nearly spun out of control, and the unexpected appearance of another Iron Monger suit had thrown Clark for a loop.

He still didn’t know what to make of things. He knew some things would be different due to his arrival at this place and time, but this was completely unexpected. Clark would need to do some serious thinking and look over his notes about the things that lay ahead.

Things would diverge; it would always happen, but this felt too soon! How could he plan for the unexpected like that?

He peeled off his jacket and dropped it on the floor near the front door. He’d need to wash that. It was covered in dust, oil (or some other lubricant), and bug guts from running to California and back.

Gross.

He looked up as the kitchen light flickered on and saw his mother looking back at him worriedly. Clark smiled back at her to ease her fears (it didn’t matter if your son was bulletproof, a mother still worried) and shrugged.

“Well... I’m home. Did I miss anything?” He laughed as he caught the cushion she threw at him.

It helped to remember what you were fighting for.