Runaway

Standing in the living room of cozy 2-bedroom apartment, looking around at all the yet to be lived in space and the double locks on the front door that are mimicked by every other door in the place Anthony Stark breathes in the lingering scent of fresh paint and for once feel a spark of hope that he might have found himself a home. Wait scratch that, he’s not Anthony Stark not anymore and if all goes to plan he never will be again. Here in this middle of nowhere city he’s now Tony Russo. The Italian last name is a nod to his mother’s heritage because while he came here to escape her too in a way, it gives part of his lie a credible backstory. 

He had been planning his escape for years ever since the idea sparked when he was 6-years-old and realized it wasn’t normal for fathers to hit their children as hard as Howard did, to leave the cigarette scars that lined his hands and arms, and the small bruises and nicks that lined every inch of his skin that could be covered up by a suit. That it wasn’t normal for a mother to always have drink in her hands; always popping a pill that could take her somewhere far away while he stuck where he was.

Alone. Always so alone.

Howard never recognized his brilliance for what it was, so when Tony started stealing he knew Howard would never figure out that he was the culprit. Really for one of the supposedly ‘smartest’ men in America hacking into Howard’s bank accounts both domestic and offshore had been easier than Tony thought. Even better was the fact that Tony wasn’t the only one taking from the man. Stane, the man he’d thought of as an uncle, until he’d gone and hurt Tony in new ways that he tried his hardest not to think about anymore, was taking from Howard too. So, Tony made it look like Stane was the culprit behind what he took too. Now several years later, Tony had millions safely stored away for a rainy day or an emergency get away. A meagre sum, someone like Howard could do without. 

Still even while planning his escape, squirreling away funds and fantasizing about what it would be like to get away, to be free. A part of him never thought he’d actually go through with it. 

Jarvis’ death changed that. He had been diagnosed with cancer 3 summers ago, and after he had lost his wife he didn’t have the strength in him to fight it like Tony desperately wished he would. 

Howard had allowed him to stay on even after he couldn’t take off his duties like he used to. An odd moment of sentiment for the man. 

Tony had been the first to find his body. He was on his way to get his latest injury bandaged when he realized his first and only friend was no longer with him. Jarvis had passed in sleep, he looked peaceful, as if he really was only asleep. 

Tony couldn’t stop the first few tears that escaped when he realized his friend’s chest wasn’t rising and falling. But in that heart wrenching moment, he also found the determination to put his plan into action. There was nothing left for him in the mansion, but he had a million reasons to leave. 

The first few weeks after he had run away he was constantly on the move never staying in the same city for more than a day or two. Using cash to purchase bus tickets and new clothing. After all, a kid taking a midnight bus in thousand-dollar suits would have brought him the kind of attention he didn’t want. A kid in baggy clothing raised far fewer eyebrows. It had been a little over 2 weeks since he had left. He had constantly been watching the news but hadn’t seen any announcements about onward Starks runway kid yet. He wasn’t really surprised. Despite the mansion full of servants, hardly anyone noticed when Anthony wasn’t seen for weeks. Sometimes it was because a night with Howard left him too hurt to move properly, other times he had been kidnapped. It spoke volumes to his home life that Anthony preferred the torture he was subjected to by anonymous faces to the kind of treatment he knew would be waiting for him when he eventually found his way back home.

Now here, in one of 2 dozen cities that Tony had calculated and found the least risk of being found he could finally begin to relax. Double checking the door to the apartment was properly locked, he promptly passed out on the couch.

He was always afraid of falling asleep, afraid of seeing the faces of the people who left him in such pain and afraid of reliving the same abuse they once put him through. He never screamed though, the need to be as quiet had long since been beaten into his subconscious. Instead he whimpered and silently sobbed into one of the couch’s cushions. Only a few short hours later, the fear he felt followed him into his waking hours.

Though sleep had left him more tired than before, he couldn’t lie down again. Instead he kept himself busy unpacking and decorating his new apartment. He had chosen a two-bedroom apartment so as to not arouse any suspicion as to why he was living alone. He would stay in the second bedroom while the master was decorated to look more feminine. Pink and gray themed with several frames with pictures of himself expertly photo-shopped with a woman in a variety of clothing and different settings. In fact the only outfit that repeated often was the women’s army uniform; small details showing progressive promotions. Tony reasoned that a mother who worked at the military base an hour’s commute away would make for a good excuse as to why she wasn’t around. His imaginary mom was a single mother after his fake father who only appeared in a few of the photos with a much younger Tony was killed overseas in a military incident. 

Thank god for photoshop. 

He had the details worked out if anyone asked him, but he figured most people wouldn’t question his story any further too uncomfortable with broaching the topic of death with a strange teenager. Along with two uniforms he filled the master closet with a variety of women’s clothing thanking a god he didn’t believe in for the internet so could shop online without confusing clerks as to why he was buying women’s clothing several sizes larger than him.

After setting up the apartment so it might pass muster if anyone ever visited he went into the master bathroom where several bottles of hair dye were kept. An hour later a Tony with black hair emerged. His brown roots would be less noticeable once they started growing in, and besides he didn’t think he could pull off being a blond. 

He had thought about colored contacts but dismissed the idea as being too risky. Brown eyes were fairly common too, so picking a different color might even bring him more attention, something Tony desperately did not want. Instead to complete his disguise, he decided on a pair of frames with a low corrective prescription. They were actually something Tony had needed for a while, but had been afraid to ask for. 

He wouldn’t have stood for his son being so defective as to need glasses. 

With the apartment set up, and no work to be done the same anxiety settled into him as it did back at the mansion. Being idle often made him uncomfortable. Tony didn’t know how to relax and enjoy himself, but he wanted to learn. 

Making sure the door was locked behind him, Tony left the building. It was time to explore the city and buy groceries.

Even more than that Tony simply wanted to walk around wasting an afternoon enjoying the warmth of a fading sun and freedom on his skin.