Chapter 17
It wasn’t a Steve Roger’s plan, but Peggy felt it was a worthy one, suitable enough to manage their objective.
“Thor, you create a diversion in the front area, draw the security attention towards you.” Peggy motioned to the projection of the sprawling mansion laid out on one side of the quinjet’s hull, pointing specifically to the front area of the estate, where a series of fountains and ornamental gardens were supposed to be. “Keep them busy and occupied and unable to call in reinforcements from outside the gates.”
“That should be easy enough,” he nodded, cheerfully.
“Meanwhile, Stark, Jake and I will get into the property as unobserved as possible.” She pointed towards a back entrance through a series of doors that led to a large veranda and steps down to the ocean itself. “We will go through the back, as it will be, in theory, more lightly guarded. I will go left, through the dining, kitchen and service areas. Jake, you will take the right and the drawing rooms and other public spaces. This lets you, Stark, slip upstairs and the private rooms up there.”
They both nodded, grimly.
“Banner, you’ll be here, monitoring things with JARVIS. SHIELD should be arriving soon, but should Killian call for backup, you let us know what to expect.”
“Got it,” he replied, all too happy to be relegated to the quinjet for this exercise. “And if Tony needs the suit, I’ll let down the gangplank so he can call it.”
“You got it,” Stark nodded, eyeing the suit helmet where it sat on a crate, projecting the image of the house plans on the wall. “I suppose it goes without saying that if we find something, we call for backup from the rest of you?”
“Yes,” Peggy glared at him, as he held up his hands protectively.
“I just thought I would note it, say it out loud…remind myself.” He reached for an comm device, fitting it into his left ear. “Everyone armed up?”
“I can’t say I’ve ever used a hand grenade made out of an ornament before.” Jake held up one of the glass balls, a metallic matte green one, the loop at the top of it taped over with a makeshift fuse.
“Works with soda bottles too,” Stark murmured, idly, while he went over everything in his pack, slipping on a glove he had fitted with wiring along the palm. “Ready to head out?”
Peggy looked to the others, who all nodded. “Right, then, Banner, you know how to get ahold of us if you need to.”
“Good luck,” he called, as he flipped the switch to lower the gangplank for them, allowing them all to file out. In a reversal of yesterday, when they had left the desert warmth and Pacific air of Los Angeles for the freezing chill of the Tennessee Appalachians and Rose Hills, today they had left the cold for the balmy warmth of Miami. The sun shone at mid-day, the wind filled with the salty breeze off the Atlantic.
The neighborhood surrounding Killian’s compound was odd, a mix of palatial estates in various styles, the predominant being a sort of romantic Italianate, with gleaming white exteriors and bright, burnt orange roof tiles, surrounded by lush gardens and swaying palm trees. Jake had been forced to be creative in his landing spots for the quinjet, finding a property that appeared to have been empty and for sale half a mile down the road from Killian’s mansion, one whose large and expansive backyard could both contain the aircraft and hide it from general view. Ten minutes of Stark with a laptop had lowered the properties security, allowing them the ability to leave the property undetected, crossing through the yard and out of a side garden gate to the long driveway and the street beyond.
“This way,” Jake pointed towards Killian's property, a large stretch of land surrounded by a protective brick and stucco privacy fence, covered in vegetation. None of the other houses close to the property even overlooked it.
“Thor, think you can give a boost up, buddy?” Stark was already eyeing the wall as it rose another foot over all of their heads.
“Of course,” Thor agreed, amicably, bending to allow Stark to step into his cupped hands. Stark easily scrambled over the upper most brickwork, spinning to allow himself to jump down easily in a maneuver that spoke to the fact he had done this sort of thing before.
“You want to go next, Peggy?” Jake was eyeing the main road up and down, keeping look out for passing cars.
“Right,” she nodded, stepping lightly into Thor’s interlaced fingers in her practical shoes. Not the first time she had ever been boosted over a wall, and she nimbly stepped up and onto the top, quickly making her way over to land on the other side quietly, as Stark watched her with wariness and approval.
“You do that like you used to be a World War II spy, you know,” he teased, lightly, as they waited for Jake to make his way over.
“You do it like you used to break into houses for a living,” she returned, arching a pointed eyebrow in his direction.
“Well, I had something of a troubled childhood for a minute there,” he shrugged, dropping that bombshell casually to Peggy’s mild amazement. Seeing her look, he grimaced. “I used to use that maneuver to sneak in after being out late partying.”
“Did it work?”
“Sometimes,” he replied, as Jake jumped down beside them. He tapped his ear piece as Peggy and Jake did the same, turning them on. Peggy could hear the beep of the device going on.
“Okay, Thor, we are over. You head out front and do your thing.”
“Excellent,” Thor enthused. “See you soon.”
On the other side of the wall they could hear the wooshing sound of Thor’s hammer twirling, as within seconds he took off overhead, like a shot, flying towards the very front of the property, thunder echoing ominously. They watched his passage till he came down on the other side.
“While he’s busy with that,” Stark muttered, pulling out his burner phone and fiddling it for several seconds. “JARVIS, we got the security down in this place?”
Over their ear pieces, the smooth voice of JARVIS sounded. “I have disabled all communication in and out of the property via their satellite, and have taken down their closed circuit security surveillance. I was unable to turn off the cable television, however, without turning it off for the entire neighborhood.”
“Heaven forbid the rich and wealthy of Coral Gables be without their 24 hours of A Christmas Story on TNT,” Stark muttered. “You guys set to move?”
Both Peggy and Jake had pulled their weapons, nodding. No sooner had they done so than a flash of light blazed from the direction of Thor.
“That’s our cue,” Stark whispered, leading the way across the wide swath of grass towards the side and back of the house, with its cultivated, ornamental gardens and closely shaved and shaped hedges, all of which added to the distinctly Mediterranean air of the property and provided the close sort of cover needed. The three of them carefully crept through the space, eyes out for guards who had not answered the summons to the ruckus being caused in the front and who were keeping an eye out for other intruders.
Peggy spied one such security member, standing near a set of concrete steps that lead to the main terrace, standing with a gun in hand and a finger to his listening device, keeping tabs on whatever was happening on the other side. She held up a hand to Stark and Jake, motioning over the top of the retaining wall. Stark nodded, carefully reaching in his bag for one of the glass hand grenades he had made. Peggy would be lying if she said she didn’t half-fear that the thing would go off in their faces the minute Stark pulled his make-shift pin, but it blessedly didn’t. He leaned around the edge of the ivy-and-brick covered retaining wall and rolled it, gently, towards the guards feet. It rumbled along the ground with the hollow, brittle sound of glass on concrete, landing at the man’s toe.
It did just what Stark wanted, it gained his attention. He bent down to stare at it, picking it up in confusion, not fast enough on the uptake to realize it was all a set up. It exploded with a pop, sending smoke into his face as Stark bounced up, hitting the man with his modified air-gun, silent save for the fwip of the projectiles, hitting the guard and sending him reeling into a nearby fountain, face first. Casually, Stark pulled another ornament hand grenade and dropped it in the water after him. It exploded with a muffled gurgle, the man inside twitching before falling still.
Jake turned to stare, open-mouthed, at Peggy. All she could do was shrug, helplessly, and whisper. “He makes good weapons.”
“You two coming,” Stark asked, turning back to them.
“Yes,” Peggy rushed to follow, Jake at her heels. Moving past the fountain, they followed Stark up across the gracious veranda to the broad, French doors that led into the cool, dim indoors. Silently, Stark turned one of the long door knobs, silently swinging open the door, carefully doing so as to prevent any of them from being targeted from anyone waiting inside. Peggy wait on one side of the door frame, weapon at the ready, Jake at the other, ready to swing around and take out any security if need be.
“All clear,” Stark hissed, carefully rounding the door and stepping inside. Peggy followed, gun up as she scanned the space, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, frowning at the dark interior and the dank, fusty odor that permeated the air around them.
“Smells like a frat house in here,” Jake grumbled as they wandered down what should have been the bright, gracious central hall, currently gloomy and closed off, the space crammed with what looked like half-painted set pieces and cloth covered furniture, shoved haphazardly, with only a narrow pathway leading to double set of stairs on the far end.
Stark briefly sniffed the air. “I sense cigarettes, stale alcohol, marijuana, unwashed bodies, vomit and…” He paused to take another deeper whiff, nose wrinkling. “Oh, yeah, that smells like sex. This reeks of my first apartment…and maybe more than a few other places I live at over the years.”
Peggy’s only response to that was to wrinkle her nose at him in abject disgust.
“Yeah, better to gut it with fire at this point,” Stark shrugged, stepping softly towards the double stairs and the crossroads of the house itself. To either side of the foyer were large rooms. Jake crept to the doorway on their left, leaning against the wall beside the painted door jamb, weapon at the ready as Peggy and Stark held back, waiting for him to check his sight lines. Carefully, he glanced around the edge, before moving back, frowning in consternation.
“Looks to be a table and someone laying on it,” he whispered. “Female, not moving. Not sure her status.”
“Could be passed out, could be asleep, doubt she’s dead,” Stark returned, softly. “Anyone else?”
Jake paused, listening over the sounds coming from out front, where Thor appeared to be engaging with the bulk of Killian’s security. “Voices inside somewhere, but not by the door.”
“Good,” Peggy murmured, crossing the hall and past the stairs, carefully, gun trained up the steps as she went. No one stirred at the top landings, and she made it to the other doorway safely, positioning herself against the wall opposite of Jake in order to survey the scene.
Stark had to, of course, cut the building tension as she held her gun trained down to the floor. “I got to say, Aunt Peggy, you handle that weapon like a pro. I see what Cap sees in you.”
“Quiet,” she mouthed, glaring at his teasing smirk. Ignoring him, she carefully peeked around the corner, like jake, into what appeared to be another large, dining space, or would have been if it weren’t filled with half-eaten food trays and at least two sleeping bodies underneath the table itself. “Got two more bodies on this side.”
“Someone had a hell of a party,” Jake muttered. “Any voices?”
Peggy listened, trying to discern what was coming from the outside and what was inside. “None that I can tell.”
“Let’s clear out my space, then, before we split,” he suggested, slowly rounding the corner into the other room. Stark followed, tugging on the cuff of his glove, as Peggy made up the rear, covering behind them, her eyes on the foyer and the far room as they made their way around what looked to be a table tennis set up. The scene looked debauched, a young woman lay prone across it on her side, as if in sleep, with no pillow or blanket, but otherwise looking alive enough. Her knees curled up on top of the meager net that divided the table in two, an empty beer bottle near her hand, and the smell of vomit wafting from around the spot somewhere.
“Why is it so hot in here,” a voice whined, bringing all of their eyes to the other side of the room, a den like area set around a low table covered in a forest of bottles, pitchers, red-plastic cups, and other detritus from what looked to be a sort of horrible booze up. “I told you to keep at 68!”
The demand came from a heavily made up woman, dressed in a green, sparkling, sequined dress, her blonde hair frizzing in the humidity and lingering fog of smoke in the place. While she was facing them, she paid the three of them utterly no mind, directing her complaints to a man sitting across from her, dressed in a suit. He seemed to be awake and aware, at least enough to snort at her, but not enough to notice the three people creeping up on him. Stark held up his right hand to the other two of them, the one with his glove, holding them as he lifted his left hand to his lips.
“My fault, again,” the suit complained in derisive disgust. “Let me tell you something, sweetheart, I’m not your personal air con…”
Before the man could even finish his sentence, Stark was on him, jamming his wire-covered glove on the top of the man’s head. A horrific crackling, not unlike Thor’s lightning, sounded, as the scent of burning human flesh now mingled with the generally foul odor of the room. Within seconds the man was down, as Stark pushed him over, gently, to the table, the man’s body twitching with the release of electrical currents.
The woman, bleary-eyed and barely awake, watched it all with blank surprise as Stark reached for a gun the guard dropped on the cluttered glass top of the table. She tried to turn her head to see all three of them through squinted eyes, but only managed Stark, who held up his hand to his lips in a wry half-smile. The woman sniggered and wobbled where she reclined, aiming her pointer fingers like guns at him in vague understanding.
“Pew,” she vocalized, quietly, giggling to herself as she fell back into the pillows, blissfully unaware once again.
Stark turned to Jake, motioning through the rest of the area. “You head that way?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, patting Stark on the shoulder as he passed, eyeing the woman on the couch while shaking his head and continuing.
Stark motioned back into the hall for the pair of them, pulling off his wire-covered work glove with his teeth. “I’ll head upstairs.”
“I’ll head this way,” Peggy motioned to the dining room. Stark nodded, then with light feet began to mount the closest of the two staircases leading up, his gun held at the ready. Peggy watched him go until he disappeared to the landing above before entering the dining room herself.
There was a part of her very English and surprisingly aristocratic soul that wanted to weep at what was being done to this house. The dining room looked as if it was meant to hold a grand sort of party, the type her mother would have given an eye-tooth to host, with crystal chandeliers and gilded cornices of a bygone era. Sadly, the rest of the space looked much more as if a load of modern college students had been let loose on it. The long oak table was covered in empty food cartons, boxes of pizza and donuts, and all other manner of food, with no indication how old any of it was or how long it had been sitting in the humid Florida weather. Judging from the dried up pizza crusts sitting on plates and the occasional fly buzzing lazily over the scene, it had been a while. The air was heavy with the smell of it, and it all combined with the other odors made Peggy want to gag.
From either side of the table feet stuck out, attached to two young ladies who, much like the girls in the other room, were passed out cold against the marble tile. While one girl was fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt made to look like a Christmas jumper, the other young lady was in little more than a spangled red bikini edged in white fuzz, a furry Santa Claus hat covering her eyes from the glare of the sun. Both women snored, gently, oblivious to the sounds of Thor’s confrontation outside. Peggy left them for the moment. They would wake to SHIELD’s reinforcements soon enough.
She made her way out of the dining room to a swinging door on the far side, one she was certain led to the house’s main kitchen. A quick check of the light coming from under the door didn’t seem to indicate anyone on the other side, but she took no chances, moving to the far side of the door jamb and gently, gingerly, opening it just enough to peek inside. No one was apparent at the moment. Likely most everyone was engaged in what was sounding like a full out war with Thor in the front of the property, and so she carefully moved inside, leading with her gun in hand as she pushed the door open enough to allow herself through.
The kitchen was modern and sleek, with industrial ranges and stainless steel everywhere, a far cry from Leanne Keener’s cozy one from earlier that morning. It hardly looked used, in all honesty, save for more food containers scattering the various flat surfaces, and a pile of unwashed dishes in one of the large sinks. On one unused countertop several piles of white dust sat, forgotten about. Considering the fact that Peggy highly doubted this was the sort of kitchen to have confectioner's sugar, it didn’t take much to figure out what it was. She eyed it, glancing around the room. It wasn’t precisely something someone would leave lying about, either. Perhaps it had been forgotten in Thor’s surprise attack?
“Drop it!”
Peggy stilled, silently swearing to herself. A man’s voice rang from an alcove up ahead, one she hadn’t yet checked. Like his fellow in the other room, he too wore an off-the-rack sort of suit, dark gray and rumpled, with a dark shirt on underneath. He held up his own weapon, nodding to the one in her hand. “Put it down, honey, and we don’t have to make this violent.”
It clicked with her in less than a second that this man assumed she was one of the various women lying scattered about the house like so many forgotten dolls. This despite the fact she was fully clothed in an outfit she had donned in Los Angeles the day before. Perhaps her rumpled clothes and exhausted appearance added to the perception. She decided to run with it, pulling up her best American accent from somewhere, and looking around confused and frightened. “I woke up in the other room to all the noise and…and…”
“Jesus, every time,” the man swore under his breath, lowering his gun as he stepped forward. “Come on, you’re fine, just a case of someone having a little too much fun last night. Hand it over and we can get you settled back down.”
It was just the opening Peggy needed. With his guard down, she kicked a leg up to knock the now loose weapon out of his grasp, bringing her fist back to clock at the temple. The hit was enough to startle him into staggering as she grabbed his free left arm and pinned it behind him, forcing him down onto the tiled floor before he had the chance to help or protest. That he didn’t even change color or heat up was enough proof that he was merely hired help and not one of Killian’s Exremis soldiers.
“Where is Killian,” she hissed into his ear as he yelped and whined under her, her right knee digging into his lower back.
“Killian I…I don’t know…” He grunted the words out in a helpless sob, trying to buck her off, but finding her knee digging painfully into the space between his spine and kidney. Coldly, she placed the muzzle of her weapon against his temple.
“You may want to think on your next words rather carefully,” she suggested as calmly as if she were giving him advice on the weather. He stilled then, his left eye sliding over to the barrel pressed against his skin.
“Fine, fine, just don’t shoot me!” He whimpered once, trying to manage his breath with her full weight on his back. “He’s downstairs, in the wine cellar. He’s there with Savin and that Iron Patriot dude.”
Rhodes? “What is he doing here?”
The man tried to shrug, but Peggy had one of his shoulders pinned. “I…I don’t know.”
She pressed down harder on her gun. “Try a bit harder.”
The man stared up at her with his single eye, wild and terrified.
“You know I will just pull it otherwise.”
“Fine,” he yelped, gasping underneath her. “The suit, they wanted his suit. I don’t know why, I swear to God.”
“Very good!” In a fluid action, she rose, moving to grab his now discarded gun and holding both weapons on him. He scrambled to his feet, dust and whatever else was on the floor now coating the front of his dark clothes, his hands up as Peggy aimed right between his eyes.
“I will let you go,” she said, simply, “if you leave the property now. If I see you on here in five minutes, I won’t be held responsible for what happens. Do you understand?”
He nodded, shaken.
“Go,” she uttered, watching as he made a run out back the way she came. As he did, he pushed open the swinging door to the dining room, nearly clocking a large figure in the door. He screamed as Peggy trained her weapons on the new person, but lowered it as soon as she realized it was only the broad figure of Thor, mildly confused as the man bounced off of him.
“Don’t hurt me,” he yelped, looking back to Peggy.
“For heaven’s sake,” she muttered, shooing him off with a wave of her gun. This time, Thor was polite enough to move and allow him out, cocking an eyebrow up at her by way of silent question.
“What passes for guards in this place, I suppose.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yes, I met a large crowd of them outside. I made sport with them as I could to allow more time for you all, but eventually they just got worn out, I guess.” Thor looked as if he hardly broke a sweat. “Where are the others.”
“Haven’t checked in,” she tapped her ear piece. “I have Thor here with me, downstairs, in the kitchens. Killian is below in the wine cellar. He has Rhodes down there.”
“Rhodey,” Stark yelped on the other end of the line. “How…”
“I don’t know. I’m heading down there now with Thor.”
“Not without me you are not,” Stark retorted, leaving no room for Peggy to question it.
“Jake,” she called, checking in on him and his position.
“This side is relatively clear, one guard who is down. The rest I am guessing went out to say hello to Thor.”
Thor, who was still figuring out human ear pieces, tapped it twice before it came alive. “They were a most diverting distraction. I am not sure that they saw it that way, however.”
Peggy was half afraid to know the scene outside and just what Sharon and her forces would find. “Banner, any sign of Sharon?”
It took a long second for the scientist back at the quinjet to answer. “Not yet.”
“Fine,” Peggy sighed, as out in the dining room she thought she could hear Stark. “Jake, meet us in the kitchen.”
“Heading over,” he returned, as Stark came bounding through the swinging door into the space.
“We are waiting for Jameson,” she said, holding up a staying hand to Stark, wild-eyed as he came through.
“But Rhodey…”
“Will be fine for the moment. Let us have a few seconds to prepare, Tony! He is there with at least one Extremis soldier. You saw what they just did to Rose Hills.”
He didn’t like it, but stood down, glaring mutinously at Peggy as he sagged beside the counter. “Peggy, he’s already taken Pepper and nearly killed Happy…”
“I know,” she said, gently, realizing just how deeply Killian had wounded Stark in just the last few days. “We won’t let him have the opportunity here.” She paused, considering her words before speaking the question she had been longing to ask since the missile slammed into Stark’s house. “What does Killian have against you, Tony? Why is he targeting you?”
Stark reared back to stare at her, unfocused before deflating somewhat as he placed his palms behind him to steady himself against the granite topped counter, nearly into one of the piles of cocaine there. He paused to glare at white substance in mild disgust. He rubbed his hands, briefly, on the sides of his jeans. He was saved in answering by the appearance of Jake at the door.
“That’s everyone,” Peggy muttered, glancing to the alcove, where a door let to what she presumed was a series of steps. “My guess is that they are down there. Thor, you want to run point for us?”
“It would be my honor,” he rumbled, moving ahead of Peggy towards the door. She fell in after him, Stark after her, and Jake bringing up the rear, eyes and ears on what was behind them. Slowly, the lot of them began their descent down the concrete steps, a line of wrought iron grating along the side the only thing protecting them from the drop on the other side. The steps spiraled downward into the cool, damp underground. The temperature dropped within a foot or two, and from far below came the sound of grunting and swearing ringing at the bottom. Peggy could feel Stark lurch behind her, but Peggy stopped, planted herself on the step, turning to glare at him as she held a hand out. He glowered back in the dim light, but she ignored him, mouthing the word “wait.”
It only served to make him more angry, but he did as he was told, holding off rushing ahead as Thor led the way down the winding steps. They were not particularly well-lit, but towards the bottom a bright light could be seen at the end, as the swearing became louder. As they began to clear the wall towards the bottom, Thor raised Mjölnier, preparing to wield it if necessary. Peggy slid the safety off of her gun.
But then Thor stopped on the bottom step ahead of her, relaxing his hammer with the slightly confused exclamation of “oh!”
“Thor?” Rhodes sounded somewhat groggy, groaning slightly as they heard his shoes scrape on the pavement. “When they said the Avengers had shown up, I didn’t think they were serious.”
“Why not,” Thor asked, moving aside to allow the rest of them down the stairs. “After all, if our friend, Stark, was being attacked, that is a matter for all of us. Besides, I needed a bit of practice this morning.”
“What he means is he plowed through most of the security on this place for funnsies out front while the rest of us snuck inside,” Stark called, practically pushing past Peggy to get to his other best friend. He helped pull Rhodes the rest of the way off the damp, concrete floor as the other man winced slightly, gingerly feeling his head. “You all right, buddy?”
“Yeah, nothing I haven’t had before,” Rhodes shrugged, eyeing the stairs and a bit of iron railing, melted like wax and cooled into twisted metal just at Jake’s elbow. “So, we are fighting guys who can breathe fire, now?”
“I hadn’t seen the breathing fire part,” Stark replied, glancing to Peggy, who only shrugged. Maya Hansen hadn’t mentioned that particular trick. “Yeah, it’s all a bit like Banner, someone who was playing with making super soldiers, only it all went horribly wrong.”
“What the hell is wrong with us regular soldiers, you all got to go around making super ones for,” Rhodes complained, mildly, glancing somewhat sheepishly at Peggy. “No offense to Cap, he’s cool.”
“If Steve were here, he would likely say none taken,” Peggy replied, mildly, glancing down the long hallway and into the darkness beyond. “Where is Killian?”
“Made a run for it. Him and his henchman took my suit. He’s trying to kidnap the president.”
This was all fastly turning into the plot of one of the very bad action films that Sharon took delight in showing to Steve, the sort where the villains were so unbelievably over the top that Peggy could hardly take any of these stories seriously. Except, this was real life, and this Killian was trying to make every attempt at presenting himself as one of these sorts of ridiculous antagonists, with the exception that it was all very real, it was happening, and people had been hurt and killed because of it.
“Why,” Stark pressed, asking the obvious question.
“I don’t know,” Rhodes grunted, shaking his still clearing head. “He caught me by surprise. I was in Pakistan when one of his salamander buddies showed up. Brought me here. When I woke up, they tried to roast me out of the suit. I tried to keep it closed, but it opened up on me and I had to come out swinging.”
“Safety feature in the suit,” Stark murmured, automatically. “In case of damage, it allows you to get out before it critically shorts the systems. My guess, Killian knew that, which is why you shouldn’t allow other people to play with my things.”
“I know, I know,” Rhodes sighed, having already had this argument many times over with Stark. “Could we just move past that, for now, because chances are that they are on their way to Air Force One right now.”
“We need to alert the government,” Peggy said. “Inform the military and Secret Service.”
“Sadly, no one in the White House is going to take my call, at least not from an unsecure cell phone.”
“They would take mine,” Stark offered, glibly, shrugging as all eyes in the room turned to him. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have the personal cell phones of both the President and Vice President on speed dial.” He regretfully held up his burner phone. “But I would need my suit first, because new phone, doesn’t have my old contact list…”
Peggy sighed, pulling out her own phone. “Better yet, how about using the ridiculous app you installed on mine when you thought you were being cute.”
“Oh, hey,” Stark lit up, taking her phone, tapping on the application in question as the voice of JARVIS sounded.
“Hello, Miss Carter,” he said, automatically.
“It’s me, buddy, not Peggy. You have the vice president’s number handy?”
“I have a cell phone that is attached to Vice President Rodriguez, yes, sir.”
Stark preened at Rhodes, who only rolled his eyes at him. “Great, dial that up if you could.”
“Of course, sir.”
They all stood in the large, space at the bottom of the stairs, awkwardly staring at Peggy’s phone in Stark’s hand as the sound of it ringing through echoed off the concrete walls.
“This is Thompson,” the male voice on the other end said by way of greeting.
“Hello, Mr. Thompson, this is Tony Stark. I assume you are an aid to the Vice President. Could you put him on the line, please?”
There was, unsurprisingly, a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “You say you are Tony Stark?”
“Yes, it is me, I am alive, and I’m standing here with Colonel Rhodes and part of my Avengers cohort with a big, life-or-death sort of situation hanging over our heads, and needing to speak to whoever is in charge over there in Washington at the moment, so, if you could pass this over to him.”
“Uh…I mean…”
“Look, Thompson, would I seriously be calling the Vice President’s private cell phone claiming to be Tony Stark if I wasn’t him?”
Another pause. “Uh, I guess not?”
“Nope,” Stark replied, popping the plosive “P” hard, a sign of his impatience with the increasingly tedious conversation.
“One moment,” the man on the other end muttered, the line muting quietly on the other end.
“I mean, I got to admire the kid for taking precautions, what with people randomly calling the most powerful leader in the world, but honestly,” Stark muttered towards Rhodes.
“Cut him some slack, all of this has got everyone on edge,” Rhodes returned, pointedly.
The line picked up again, this time to a voice that was deeper, more graveled. “Thanks! Hello?”
“Sir,” Stark opened with a polite formality Peggy wasn’t even aware he was capable of. “This is Tony Stark.”
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Vice President Rodriguez drawled.
Stark admirably cut to the chase. “We believe you are about to be drawn into the Mandarin campaign. We got to get you somewhere safe as soon as possible.”
That was an angle Peggy hadn’t thought of; if the president was vulnerable up in the air, that didn’t mean the vice president was any less so down on the ground. Any one of his staff could have been compromised by one of Killian’s forces.
“Mr. Stark,” Rodriguez sighed, the polite sort of one politicians used when they didn’t wish to appear to be rude but clearly were not going to listen to better advice. “I am enjoying a holiday here at Blair House with my extended family. We are going to have a lovely afternoon and sit down to a Christmas Eve dinner of honey-roast ham, surrounded by the Secret Service’s finest. The president is safe on Air Force One with Colonel Rhodes. I think we are good here.”
Rhodes leapt into the conversation, frowning. “Sir, this is Colonel Rhodes. They’re using the Iron Patriot as a Trojan horse. They’re going to take the president somehow. We need to alert that plane!”
To his credit, the vice president only paused a beat as he digested this. “Okay, I’m on it. I’ll have security lock it down. If need be, they can have F-22s in the air in 30 seconds. Thank you, Colonel.”
“Rhodes and Stark out,” Rhodes replied as Stark thumbed the red button on the screen. The call ended.
“We could call SHIELD for back up forces, just in case,” Peggy offered.
Rhodes shook his head. “Nah, not with the way the Pentagon is being about SHIELD at the moment. It's probably for the best we don’t. They will already have a lot to say about the Avengers being involved.”
“SHIELD is handling the investigation, anyway, why would they…”
Stark held up a quelling palm, stopping Peggy in mid-complaint. “I hear you, but let’s put a pin in this. Right now, Killian has the Iron Patriot armor and is going after President Ellis, and most importantly, he has Pepper somewhere.”
Rhodes, who newly joined to their group, had not heard this news yet. “He has Pepper? How?”
“Not important at the moment,” Stark returned. “Anyway, I need you all upstairs, I got something I think you need to see.”
Without another word, he brushed past Thor, Peggy and Jake, taking the steps at a bound. Rhodes turned to look at all of them, completely perplexed. “What the hell is going on here?”
Peggy sighed, moving forward to grab his arm and pull him along. “Come on, we will have to catch you up on the madness.”