Chapter 9
Bruce found Tony exactly where he always was in times of dire distress: in his workshop.
“Good evening, Dr. Banner. Shall I alert Mr. Stark to your presence?” FRIDAY warmly greeted. Bruce waved his hand.
“Nah, I’ll surprise him.”
As the doors to the elevator opened, Bruce was surprised to see Nat waiting for him just outside of the doors to Tony’s workshop. Her arms were crossed, and she leaned on the wall waiting for the doctor. Once she noticed his arrival, she peeled off the wall. “Bruce,” she curtly greeted.
“Nat, I… I was hoping to talk to Tony. Alone,” Bruce admitted, taking a few steps forward. He felt jittery and nervous and anxious and everything in between.
“I figured. I noticed how weird you’ve been acting all day.” The spy took a step forward towards Bruce, her red hair damp from a recent shower. “What do you know?”
Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets and bounced his leg nervously. He glanced around at the walls and the ceiling, looking anywhere but the woman in front of him. He hated how Nat was able to play him like a fiddle. There’s no use in lying, Bruce thought to himself. Whatever he told Tony would probably go straight back to the team anyways.
“When I was on Sakaar… I was there before they created the Champion Games. I participated in something similar, but not the same. Or Hulk did, anyways,” Bruce rambled with a sigh. Now he locked his eyes onto the spy’s, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to withhold any information. “I think Tony needs to hear this next part, too. Why don’t you just come with me?”
Nat hesitated for a moment, bit her lip, and then nodded. She followed Bruce into the workshop. As soon as the doors opened, a barrage of rock music hit their ears. Nat winced. She’d been more into classical stuff herself. Tony’s taste in music wasn’t refined enough for her. Tony didn’t even lift his head as Dr. Banner and Natasha entered the workshop; he simply remained bent over a project on one of the work stations. There were large goggles on his face, the black material shielding his eyes from whatever he was welding together. He didn’t even acknowledge anyone came in.
“Tony,” Bruce said, taking a few steps forward. Tony still didn’t acknowledge their presence. “Tony, we need to talk.”
Still nothing.
Bruce and Nat glanced at one another. Nat, taking the initiative, stepped past Bruce. Shielding her eyes, she reached forward and placed her hand on Tony’s shoulder. With a gentle tug, the screech of machinery stopped as did the bright flash. Tony, clearly frustrated, threw his tools on the table and lifted the goggles onto the top of his head. “Is something so important that you’re here to interrupt me right now?”
Nat glanced past Tony to see what he was working on. Her heart panged with sadness and anxiety when she saw the familiar red and gold design of Peter’s suit. Tony was making a new one from scratch, and she had no doubt it was probably even better than the one Peter currently had.
“I’m here to talk to you,” Bruce gently said. Tony frowned and threw his hands straight out.
“Well, I’m all ears. If you could make this quick, that’d be great. Gotta finish this up before we blast off tomorrow.”
Nat crossed her arms and looked at Bruce expectantly. After all, she also didn’t know what the man had to say, but she knew that whatever it was, it wouldn’t be easy to hear.
“Tony… time… it doesn’t work the same on Sakaar as it does here. It works differently than anywhere else in the universe. One day on Sakaar is a few minutes for us. To you guys, I was on Sakaar for two years. For me… it was forty-three years. Forty-three years, Tony.”
“I don’t quite understand why you felt the need to break my concentration to tell me this,” Tony retorted. While he didn’t quite seem to understand what Bruce was getting at, the realization hit Nat like a train. And it hurt. She’d come to like her fellow arachnid counterpart. He was sweet and for all intents and purposes, innocent. It was fun to train with him and get absolutely blown out of the water by a kid. Even after all of her years of experience, Peter could still best her in a matter of seconds.
Most importantly, he reminded the team how to laugh and smile and forget about the bleakness of the world they saw every day. To her, that was far more important to this team than strength or powers could ever be.
“If this rescue mission works, if we get to Sakaar… you need to be prepared for Peter to… to not be the same as the last time you saw him,” Bruce gently explained. He couldn’t bring himself to use the word dead in the same sentence as Peter. Not yet. “It’s been five days since he was taken. By the time we get there, weeks, maybe months, could have passed.”
Not even Nat’s reflexes were quick enough to catch Tony. He clutched at the arc reactor, the breath knocked out of him, as he fell over and leaned for support onto his workbench. Tools and materials went flying around as the man slammed into the station. He clutched his chest, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t think. Everything around him was red and it hurt and everything hurt and he wasn’t good enough and he was going to fail and everyone was going to die but that didn’t matter because Peter was going to die and just him being dead hurt enough.
His back roughly slid along the edge of the station and he slammed into the ground. Tony banged his head on the bench behind him but he didn’t even notice in the conflagration of panic and red and pain and fire that was consuming his entire body. He was going to be too late. Not only did he let the kid get taken, but he wasn’t even good enough to save him in time.
He could see the blurred figures of Bruce and Nat crouching in front of him, he could feel hands on his shoulders, he could hear whispers breaching the crashing in his ears telling him to breathe. None of it mattered, because Tony wasn’t good enough. He saw this coming from a mile away. All this time, Peter wasn’t the one Tony should’ve worried about. It was himself. He should’ve built him a better suit, should’ve put him on a tighter leash, should’ve homeschooled him with Bruce, should’ve gone to pick him up from school that day.
This was all Tony’s fault. Peter was going to die because of Tony, and there was nothing he could do to fix it.
Pepper watched through the glass window of Tony’s infirmary room, a look of worry and stress etched onto her face. Beside her, Nat rubbed her elbow. “He’ll be alright, Pep. He just needs some time to process it all.”
A singular tear dropped from Pepper’s eyes, breaking her concentration from Tony. She dipped her head in an attempt to hide the tear and wiped it from her cheekbone with the back of her hand. “I know. I know he will. But he’s just… he’s going to take this so hard, Nat. You know how much he’s been through. I’m not sure how much more of this he can take. He loves Peter like his own. And May…” Pepper’s voice was quivering the entire time she spoke, but now it broke, and Nat leaned in to surround Pepper with a warm, comforting embrace.
From a distance, Steve, Sam, Bucky, Clint, and Bruce sat on a couch and looked away from Pepper and Nat to give Pepper the privacy she deserved. Steve and Sam shared a concerned glance. Steve was the first to speak. “We’ll have to really watch out for Tony on this mission.”
Clint grimly nodded. “I just don’t understand what goes through his head.”
“You know how he works,” Steve finished. Everyone nodded. It went without saying that they were all pretty familiar with Tony’s mental state by now. When he was fine, it was splendid, and the man was a wise-cracking, sarcastic, asshole-hero that they all knew and loved dearly. When he wasn’t fine… he wasn’t. They knew his mood was going to swing back and forth between two extremes like a pendulum, either unable to breath because of panic or so angry that he acted like he was stronger than Thor and Hulk combined. Steve glanced through the glass at Tony’s sedated body. He knew when the man woke up, he’d be on a warpath.
All the team could do was be by his side to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.
“Are you sure he should even be going with us? Won’t he just be a liability up there?” Bucky asked in a low voice, leaning forward.
“There’s no stopping him from coming with us,” Bruce announced. “He’s either going as a part of the team or by himself. If you want to keep someone from doing something stupid…”
“Keep them as close to you as you can,” Steve finished. “Tony is going to get Peter back, alive, or…” his voice trailed off. All this time, nobody could bring themselves to actually mention the possibility of Peter being dead. They all thought it, but they felt as if they spoke it aloud, it would become the truth. If it remained unsaid… maybe there was still a chance of saving the kid. Maybe.
They all sat in silence, eyes trained onto the floor until a slightly metallic, dry voice hit their ears. Steve turned to see Nebula standing in the doorway of Tony’s private infirmary room, arms crossed. “It’s done. The coordinates have been uploaded to our ship. We should be ready to leave whenever.”
Steve looked between Nebula and the sedated man in the hospital bed in the room over, and back to Nebula. “I think it’s safe to say we should wait until the morning.” Nebula nodded.
“I’ll tell them.” She went to leave but hesitated and turned back around. “We only have room for twelve. Any more than that, and we won’t be able to make the jumps quick enough to evade their defense scanners.” With that, she turned and left the room. Steve’s stomach churned a little bit. He’d been hoping they’d be able to take their full artillery, but it seems like that wasn’t going to be true. With Tony out for the night, he’d have to make the difficult decision of who got to go and who had to stay.
Much to Steve’s surprise, the following morning as everyone was suiting up for the mission, Drax and Mantis offered to stay back at the compound. More like Rocket and Nebula forcefully suggested they did so. Drax wanted to go, but Mantis manipulated his emotions into liking the idea of a “relaxing getaway” at the compound more than a mission. Rocket and Quill insisted on flying the ship, though nobody had qualms with that because Steve wasn’t sure anybody except for the Guardians would be able to. Groot and Nebula refused to stay behind, which Steve also expected. They knew a lot about the place they were going to, and they were good fighters.
“I’ll stay behind,” Vision said, glancing at Steve. “While retrieving Mr. Parker is my utmost priority, I’m afraid that they may detect the power signature from the stone in my head.”
Steve nodded. Wanda stepped forward. “I’ll stay, too. We can defend the compound. Besides, if they can detect Vision, they’ll detect me.” Steve had a feeling there was more than that to Wanda’s decision to stay with Vision, but he didn’t press it. He didn’t want anyone to come on this mission who didn’t want to be there. “Alright. Quill, Rocket, Nebula, and Groot make four. Me and Tony make five and six. Banner, Thor, you two are essential because you both know Sakaar far better than any of us. That makes eight.” Steve paused. “Clint and Nat… you’re the best intelligence officers we can put out there if need be. That’s ten. And then.. Sam, and Bucky. I think Peter will want to see you two.” That left Rhodey with Mantis and Drax. The man warily stared at the two space-faring individuals next to him and grimaced, but nodded.
“Makes sense. Leave me back here to deal with all the bureaucratic nonsense, I see.”
“And Miss Potts,” a new voice added, walking into the hangar. Everyone was suited up, ready for the mission. Now, a familiar man in simple black athletic wear strutted through the middle of the group, chest glowing. “She’s quite the force to deal with, and in my absence, Happy will need someone to answer all of the reporter’s questions.” Tony strolled up to Rhodey and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I need you here, Rhodes. Look after Pep.” With that, Tony turned back around and faced the group who had congregated closer to the ship, staring at Tony. Tony furrowed his brows. “What, did I grow horns or something?”
“No, Tony, we’re just worried about you. You just got out of the infirmary, and now we’re heading off to the unknown. Are you sure you’re up for this?” Steve asked, his shield hanging at his side. Tony took a few steps forward to Cap.
“What, am I not good enough for you? Just provide you with all of this,” Tony motioned to Cap’s entire suit, “and suddenly you kick me to the curb? No. I’m fine. This is my kid. I’ll deal with it. Rabbit, wheels up in five,” Tony said, beckoning to Rocket. Rocket grumbled something under his breath at the word rabbit, but even he didn’t feel like dealing with the billionaire's attitude. The man strolled onto the spaceship as though nothing was wrong, but everyone could feel the air of anger that rolled off of him in waves. Rhodey, Mantis, Drax, and Pepper bade the team respective farewells while they all piled into the spaceship. Quill and Rocket strapped themselves in the pilot seats and began their pre-flight checks. The rest of the team strapped themselves into seats in the front or found somewhere within the main cabin and bowels of the ship to sit down and wait for takeoff. Space travel for those who were unused to it was unpleasant, but it was the least of Tony’s worries right now. While walking around the back of the ship, he found a small medbay. There was a singular table that glowed softly, surrounded by medical equipment and scanners.
Tony looked away. They wouldn’t need that. Peter was going to be fine by the time Tony got there. “Time.” Tony said to someone he couldn’t see, tossing a weird object around in his hand. Someone walked up behind him. Nebula put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s a weird concept.”
“So are grenades. Maybe don’t toss that thing around,” Nebula scolded, taking the metal grenade away from Tony’s hand and tucking it into her utility belt. Tony scowled and looked away.
“What, is the Smurf here to tell me why I need to chillax? Or are you here to try to prep me for the kid being dead, too? I’m not a fucking butterfly, for christ’s sake. I’ve dealt with harder stuff than… this,” Tony complained, flailing his hands around at the small medbay of the ship they were in. Nebula studied the man’s face; he was clearly putting on an unbothered mask, but it was an effective one.
“No. I’m here to prep you for the conversation about defeating the Galactic Authority. If this is going to work, you can’t continue to be a dickhead to everyone around you,” Nebula frowned, leaning against the medical table. That response certainly caught Tony off guard, and he scowled at her.
“I can do what I want.”
“No, you can’t. Look, you’re an Avenger. If you want to Avenge, then you have to play as a team with people who might not be smarter than you but they’re stronger than you, and they don’t like being told why they’re wrong. They’ll accept help, but not from a douchebag like you. If you want to see any justice come by, you might have to learn to stand by.” Tony looked down at the floor. He didn’t have a witty remark to come back at her with. Strangely, Nebula was one of the few people that Tony Stark allowed to talk down to him. He wasn’t sure why. He had an immense amount of respect for her.
“Well, hopefully there will be nothing to Avenge. The kid is fine. That’s why I picked him. He’s smart and he’s resourceful. And he knows we’ll be coming for him,” Tony quickly stated before finding a corner of the room to sit down and cross his arms in. Nebula stared at the man for a few moments. She wasn’t worried about him; she was worried about the people who crossed him. She headed for the cockpit, taking her seat behind Quill and next to Groot.
“I am Groot,” Groot stated in a curious tone. Nebula rolled her eyes as she strapped herself in.
“He’s not his actual kid, idiot. That doesn’t mean he can’t be worried.”
Dirty Work by Steely Dan was playing over the speakers while a small group sat clustered around a table. Sam had the forethought to bring two decks of playing cards, and Sam, Clint, Nat, and Bucky were currently trying to teach Rocket and Nebula how to play poker. Rocket picked the game up almost immediately, but Nebula was having more trouble. It became quickly obvious that she was struggling with one essential aspect of the game.
“Alright, Nebula, the first rule of poker is keeping a poker face. No giveaways, no matter what you’re feeling,” Sam instructed the blue woman. She turned to face Sam.
“I thought the first rule was-”
“No, no. We’re talking about metaphorical rules here.”
Nebula frowned. “Poker face? I do not understand this concept. Why should my face not reflect my thoughts?”
“Trust me, Nebula, you want to keep your cards close to your chest,” Clint told her.
“Yea, don’t let ‘em see you sweat. Keep ‘em guessing,” Bucky added with a grin on his face.
“And remember, Nebula, the goal is to bluff your way to victory because with this guy dealing-” Nat jerked her thumb at Sam- “you are never going to get a good hand. Gotta learn to control that face.”
“This is ridiculous!” Nebula exclaimed, setting her cards on the table. She was growing frustrated. “Why must I suppress my emotions? They are a strength! You all are beginning to sound like my father!”
“If you keep scowling like that, I might think you’re holding the best hand every time,” Sam smirked. Nebula’s frustration grew as the others continued poking fun at her. She clenched her fists, determined to prove herself.
“Fine! I will learn this ‘poker face’ and beat all of you. Just watch!” She exclaimed, picking up the new hand Sam had just dealt her.
“Oh, we’ll be watching, Nebula,” Rocket dryly added as he scanned his own cards. As the game continued, Nebula’s struggle to maintain a neutral expression became evident. Every time she received a good hand, a flicker of excitement flashed across her face. When she had a weak hand, her frustration was palpable. She continued to lose over and over again.
“Your face is like a bright neon sign, telling us your secrets,” Bucky told her when she asked why she kept losing.
“Yea, it’s like watching a tv show of your emotions right on your forehead,” Nat chimed in.
“I’ve seen more deception in a toddler playing with a rock,” Rocket teased. Nebula’s frustration reached its peak, her expression shifting into a mixture of anger and determination. Nebula gritted her teeth.
“Enough! I will show you all that I can do this!” With renewed focus, she concentrated less on the game and more on her face. Gradually, her expressions became slightly more controlled, and she even won a hand.
“Wow, I’m impressed. You’re finally getting the hang of it. Looks like you might have some competition, Rocket,” Clint chided.
“About time. I was starting to worry she’d blow a fuse,” Rocket added. The banter continued, but this time it was accompanied by teasing admiration for Nebula’s progress. In the end, the game was filled with laughter, playful teasing, and Nebula’s comical efforts to master the art of the poker face.
As Nebula just began to round a curve of a few wins in a row, an alarm started blaring from the front of the ship. Nebula and Rocket glanced at one another before jogging up to the cockpit. “We’re here,” Nebula announced to the rest of the ship, who had gathered around the back of the cockpit. “Strap in. We don’t know how this is going to go.”
Quill, who had been in the back with Thor and Groot playing on a Nintendo Switch Groot had found laying around the compound, pushed past everyone to take his co-pilot’s seat next to Rocket. Everyone else found seats and other spots around the ship to secure themselves, stomachs twisting. “You ever been in a space battle before?” Clint asked, glancing over to Nat. Nat shook her head.
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Great. I’m sure the Taco Bell I ate for dinner last night is going to love this,” Clint said with a grimace, strapping himself into a row of seats near the back airlock of the ship.
The plan was for the team to sneak into the Galactic Authority’s territory by pretending to be a contracted scrapping ship who’d be scrapping an old, retired warship from the Authority’s navy. Quill had worked his magic and contacted the Ravagers, who apparently had a soft spot for him for whatever reason, and gotten fake clearance codes that they’d pulled from an actual scrapper ship on its way out from the Authority. Once ships left the Galactic Authority airspace, all records of their travel was wiped. The Authority’s pilots had the way back to Sakaar and other planets in the system memorized. Apparently the ship the Ravagers came upon was piloted by a younger pilot who had his clearance codes scribbled down on a scrap piece of paper. It was found out of sheer luck by a Ravager running through the pockets of the ship’s crew to find some extra loot.
However, since the Quinjet was damaged and stripped of most electronics inside of the bay the ship Valkyrie, Thor, and Bruce used to escape Sakaar, its fried electronics weren’t able to be wiped. If they could just get into their airspace inconspicuously, they’d be able to head straight for Sakaar. They had to first convince the Galactic Authority that they were actually scrappers, though. If that didn’t work… well, both the Avengers and the Guardians were adept at battles. Maybe not space battles, but they could shoot their way out of things. A small squadron of Ravager ships were a few jumps behind them just in case the team needed a last-resort bailout.
Tony had managed to convince Groot to let him take a seat up front; the tree sat next to Bucky and Steve, continuing to play on the Nintendo Switch. The two supersoldiers watched with puzzled amusement as Groot held the Nintendo Switch in narrow, branchy fingers, his eyes fixated on the screen.
“So, Groot, what’s the deal with this… car game?” Steve said, looking down at the screen. A few times, Peter had made the rest of the team play games with him, but Steve never played. He only watched.
“It’s Mario Kart, Sherlock,” Bucky dryly responded. Unlike Steve, he was always down for a good game, even if he quite didn’t understand them.
“I am Groot!” The tree enthusiastically responded.
“Mario Kart?” Steve looked at Bucky, confused. “Is this a new training program or something?”
“No, Steve. It’s a game. Apparently, the tree is an expert at it,” Bucky quickly responded, rolling his eyes. Steve furrowed his brows.
“Well, what’s the objective? Are they racing against each other?”
“Yea, in little karts, throwing bananas and turtle shells at each other. You know, perfectly normal, everyday stuff,” Bucky told him, his eyes still watching Groot’s progress in the game.
“Bananas and turtle shells? I don’t understand… why would someone do that when they’re driving?” Steve asked, still puzzled. Apparently he never paid much attention during the team’s game nights. Groot laughed.
“See, even Groot finds it amusing. Maybe it’s a plant thing.”
“I don’t know, Buck. This seems a bit… far-fetched to me,” Steve said. He liked to spend time before missions reflecting on his emotions, his body, and what was ahead of them. He tried to run every possible scenario through his head so he’d be better prepared to guide his team through what was to come.
“Yea, because the world-saving unthawed super-soldier thinks throwing bananas at your friends in a game is far-fetched,” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. The two continued to go back and forth about Nintendo Games, completely (and gratefully) oblivious to everything going on in the cockpit.
Quill sat in his co-pilot’s seat, nervously adjusting his jacket. He’d been chosen as the point-person for communication. Rocket had too quick of a trigger, Nebula sounded too… robotic and suspicious, and anyone else might not know how exactly to communicate with a space empire. Nebula, Rocket, and Tony sat behind him, whispering and giving advice as they prepared to deceive the security. The Galactic Authority’s airspace was secured by a border with a plethora of checkpoints and security stations, all heavily guarded and manned. They were not only there to keep things out, but to keep things in. As they approached one such station, Nebula whispered to Peter. “Remember, confidence is key. Act like you’ve done this a hundred times before.”
“Yea, because Quill here is a master of acting cool,” Rocket sarcastically whispered, shaking his head and leaning back into his chair.
“Relax, guys. This will be a piece of cake. Star-Lord here has been through much worse,” Quill confidently said.
“Oh sure, Quill. A cake made of anxiety and terrible acting skills,” Rocket quickly retorted.
“Can we please focus?” Tony said, leaning forward and setting his hand on the back of Quill’s chair. “We’re about to try to save a very important member of this team. This isn’t some backyard party or something.”
As the ship approached the checkpoint, the comms flicked green as a communication was incoming. Everyone immediately grew silent. Despite having an outward appearance of confidence, Quill’s palms grew sweaty.
“State your name, affiliation, and purpose of your visit.” The voice crackled to life over the comms system and sounded rather heavy and stern.
“Hey there officer. I’m, uh… John Travolta. I’m the contracted scrapper from Stellar Savagers. We’ve been assigned to scrap the retired naval ship in this sector.”
“Are you serious? Travolta?” Tony hissed under his breath. Peter turned around and shrugged his shoulders, giving Tony a nervous smile. There was silence for a few moments as the officer they were talking to searched for records of their operation.
“Scrapping a retired naval ship, you say? We don’t seem to have any records of such an operation,” the voice responded over the comms.
“Keep it together, Peter. Stick to the plan,” Nebula whispered.
“Oh, yeah, they’re definitely buying it. Top-notch acting, Quill,” Rocket scoffed.
“We’re doomed,” Tony said under his breath, leaning back into his chair, burying his forehead in his hand. “I knew this was a bad idea. Why do I keep agreeing to bad ideas?”
“Uh, yeah, officer, I mean, there must be some mistake. Look, we have this… clearance code, see?” Quill quickly responded. He tapped a few buttons on the interface on the chair and transmitted the clearance code over to the station. His hand was trembling ever-so-slightly.
“I’ll have to run this by my supervisor. Hold on.” There were a few moments of silence. Everyone held their breath, until, as always, Rocket broke the silence.
“Nice going. We’re toast, now, thanks to your stellar performance,” Rocket said, voice on the edge of laughter.
“Funny? Why is this funny?” Peter hissed at the raccoon.
Tony and Rocket squabbled until they were immediately silenced by the crackle of the comms coming through again.
“Very well, Mr. Travolta. Everything seems to be in order. You have a window of four standard hours for the scrapping operation.”
“Oh, great! Thank you, Officer. We’ll get right to work,” Peter said, before the green flow from the comm light faded back to red. Everyone’s shoulders sagged in relief, and the air of trepidation that had been hanging over the cockpit immediately dissipated. “Did we just… get away with that?”
“Well, I’ll be damned. For once in your life you actually managed to not completely screw something up!” Rocket celebrated, hands pushing the ships forward past the station. They all looked out of the window. The squadron guarding the station was formidable; Tony did not want to be on the receiving ends of those guns.
“Can we get out of here before something goes horribly wrong?” Tony asked.
With that, the team was in the airspace of the Galactic Authority. They set their path for Sakaar when they were just out of reach of the border station’s scanners, and on their way to rescue Peter.
Or, Tony thought to himself, recover a body.