Down He Falls - Part 2
(Ross ’ Basement, Nassau County, Long Island, New York)
Everything moved in slow motion.
Ross’ face twisted in an astonished rage. Van Dyne screamed. His blood boiled. Harley’s body kept on falling, and falling, and falling.
His world shattered piece by piece, ever so slowly.
He watched wordlessly as his boy hit the ground, blood seeping out around him like a macabre halo. He watched as Ross pointed his gun at him. He watched himself raised his own repulsor in answer, as if he was having an out of body experience.
Maybe he was. Because the whole thing was just impossible .
Harley couldn’t be dead .
Not Harley.
Not now when they just started to acknowledge the fact that maybe it’s okay for Tony to think of him as his own son. They just started to hug more, hang out together more, had tea parties with Hailey more. He had just gotten his act together and actually addressed the elephant in the room that, yes, it was okay for him to have all these protective, paternal instinct for a child that had no familial tie to him at all.
They were supposed to be hanging out with Pepper, Hannah and Hailey next weekend, for god’s sake.
And now Harley’s dead.
He ignored F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s pleading for him to stop overloading the arc reactors with extremis’ heat, yelling that the reactor boosting system wasn’t ready for extremis’ maximum heat. He didn’t care. His reactors could meltdown and blow up in his face for all he cared, his armor would contain the explosion. He only wanted to inflict as much damage as possible to Ross, in the shortest possible amount of time. If that meant he had to use an experimental technology that could potentially cost him a few limbs, then so be it. He’d grow them back by the end of the day, anyway.
The reactors started to rapidly turn golden in color, the blistering light spilling over to each other, turning the black bright gold. Steam rose from the iridescent lines that ran along the armor, and the smaller reactors in the back of his hand, shoulders, back, and ankles creaked in protest. He shot his repulsor just as Ross started to pull the trigger. The usual whining of the repulsor turned thunderous as a searing blast of light was spewed from his palm. The discharge pierced through Ross’ force field like a knife through butter, and the gun was gone before it could be fired.
Ross dropped the melted remain of his gun’s handle, eyes now wide in fear, and Tony felt the dark, vindictive glee that came with it. He knew that right now, even his creaking reactors incite terror and exude vengeance. Right now, the glowing, steaming armor was the most powerful thing in the room, and he was controlling it. Right now, Iron Man wasn’t just an avenger, he was the avenger - and he would have his revenge.
Suddenly, van Dyne grew full size in front of him and knocked his arm upward, making him miss his next shot that was intended for Ross’ head. The surprise caught him off guard, which gave Vision the time to phase a hand through his helmet and touch his forehead.
“I’m sorry for what I am about to do, Tony,” the android whispered through the haze of anger and pain… and suddenly all his rage vanished, giving way for a crushing, unrelenting grief instead.
Tony slid down to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Van Dyne didn’t waste any time and immediately turned back into action, leaping through the air and knocked Ross into the far wall. Vision hovered uncertainly in front of him, clearly torn between comforting Tony and… Peter.
“Peter,” Tony muttered between his sobs. “Save Peter.” Vision began to nod, but suddenly the pile of rubble behind them shifted with a loud groan, revealing a very distressed, very dazed Peter.
“Peter!” Tony yelled in alarm, armor already retracting away while he moved quickly to intercept the stumbling teen.
“Hi, Tony…” he mumbled.
Cursing, Tony patted around Peter’s body, trying to gauge which bones he had broken. His ribs definitely felt tender, and so were his legs and arms. But the most concerning was a horrible scorch wound in his left shoulder. Even with his suit protecting him, Tony could still see how the skin underneath was starting to develop a severe case of blistering. He shuddered to think what would happen if Peter was wearing one of his pajamas instead.
Peter, who had been shuffling and protesting weakly suddenly whispered in horror when he managed to look past Tony’s shoulders, “Oh god.”
Tony stiffened, not ready to came back to his full-blown grieving yet. “I know… I know, Peter, I’m so sorry…. Just－just don’t look, okay? We’re… gonna be fine.”
Peter shuffled around even more. “What are you talking about?! That’s Cassidy’s sister over there! She’s bleeding all over the place, Jesus!”
Wait, what?
Both Tony and Vision who had been fussing over Peter, even van Dyne who was busy tying Ross up looked back at Peter’s cry. The scene that played out in front of them made them all gape like a fish out of water.
There at the floor, bleeding from a hole in her stomach, was Tracy Crowley.
Acting on instinct, Tony raised his left arm and shot a blob of nanites at her abdomen, plugging the wound shut.
Van Dyne, still gaping, slammed Ross’ head against the floor hard when the man decided to use the distraction to struggle out of the hold. “But… but how?”
Peter already leaped into action, stumbling along the hallway. “Who cares about how that happened?! She’s dying! Oh my god…. And where’s Harl－oh, never mind, there he is.”
Tony felt his heart thumping against his chest almost painfully. For one second too long, he hesitated - afraid to open the sealed box to see if the cat was really alive or dead. But this wasn’t just some kind of hypothetical cat, it was Harley.
If by some chance Harley was still alive, he’d take it. He had to.
So Tony scrambled back into his own legs and chased after Peter, who was kneeling beside a familiar body, partially hidden by the wrecked doorway.
When he saw Harley, whole and not bleeding, just laid there like he’s sleeping, Tony didn’t even feel his knees hit the floor. He simply reached out shakily at Harley, desperate to feel the warmth of a living person in his skin.
“He’s… he’s okay, Tony…. Karen said he’s got no injury, just a little dehydrated,” Peter murmured softly, pressing his finger into Harley’s pulse points.
Tony breathed out a hysterical laugh. “What about yours? Karen said anything about that, kid?”
“Well, she told me the suit was too damaged to do self analysis… so….”
“Scan him, Fri,” Tony sighed.
“Multiple laceration, 5 broken ribs, fracture in both femurs, left radius, and right humerus. Major injury detected in left shoulder, 3 rd degree burn. Minor concussion detected. Recommend immediate treatment.”
“What about him? Keener, right? Is he drugged or something?” van Dyne asked carefully.
“I don’t believe so, Ms. van Dyne. Young Harley’s sleep is not natural and is psychically induced. It is, however, not… malicious in nature. I think it is save for us to let him rest for the moment.”
Tony nodded succinctly and picked Harley up and held him close to his chest. “Right. Let’s get out of here, then. Vision, Wasp, you take Ross and that girl to the jet. F.R.I.D.A.Y., send in the legionnaire and let the MP know it’s going to help with evacuation and search and rescue.”
“I just finished the fabrication and assembly of the second Mark 47, Boss. Would you like me to send that one as well?”
“Yeah, they’re gonna need a lot help evacuating this whole place.” Tony looked at Peter. “Come here, kid. I’m not making you walk with a bad leg, let alone two.”
He could almost see Peter’s flush through his mask. “I’m fine , Tony! You don’t need to － Hey !”
Tony ignored Peter’s cry of protest and moved Harley to his shoulders fireman style to pick Peter up in a princess carry. Despite the vehement objection against the treatment, Peter was remarkably compliant.
Idly, Tony found himself thanking the additional power extremis granted him. He would’ve pulled a muscle or two if he attempted something like this in the past. But for now, he was just happy to haul these two children home - even if he was sure that he’s going to have a nightmare or two tonight with Harley and Peter playing the main roles.
(New Avengers Facility, Upstate New York)
Rhodey was babysitting the Cassidy boy when General Lesley of the United States Air Force called him. To be honest he wasn’t supposed to be this surprised at being contacted by one of his bosses. For all intents and purposes, he was still a Colonel for US Air Force - legs or no legs. He was yet to be discharged, after all.
“Good morning, Colonel Rhodes,” the man said through the camera.
“Good morning, General,” Rhodey answered, standing at attention with the leg braces Tony made for him.
The general looked at them approvingly. “I presume Mr. Stark had achieved yet another miracle?”
“These braces? Yes, I suppose it’s an innovation in biomedical engineering realm… but Tony’s already bugging me about alternative treatment to completely reverse the damage in my spine.”
“Why don’t you take it, then?” General Lesley inquired curiously.
Rhodey smiled. “Because I can’t in good conscience take even more privileges my friendship with Tony provided. These braces are the prototype for a new line of prosthetic and mechanical assisting devices that SI will begin producing sometime this year, so, in a way, I’m paying Tony back by being his guinea pig. But the alternative treatment he offered me wasn’t something that can be comfortably released to the public anytime soon. Something so miraculous would ruffle more than a few doctors’ feathers.”
The other man nodded sagely. “I understand. That was wise of you both, and I commend you for your tact in handling this, both professionally and emotionally. I take it your prognosis has changed? Your medical file just came in, and it says here that with proper treatment and therapy you will eventually be able to regain full mobility in about 10 months time.”
“That’s true, General. It looks like Tony’s braces enable people like me to gain access to a wider arrange of physical therapy…. That’s one more reason why he was so eager to open that new SI Medical Branch soon.”
“Good, I’m very pleased to hear that, Colonel. I’m not going to lie to you, the Brass had been discussing the possibility of having to let you go and give you an honorable discharge, and none of us were really happy to do that.”
Rhodey inclined his head politely at that. “Because of War Machine?”
“That is certainly one of the main factor,” General Lesley agreed. “Right now, US’ standing in international world is… less than ideal, so to speak. Not only did half of the Avengers, a majority American team of superheroes, defected and became terrorists, the one who lead the charge was none other than Captain America himself - complete with the Falcon by his side.”
Yeah, Rhodey could see why US army was hit harder than the rest of America because of that. “I suppose I’m the only US soldier slash superhero left to maintain the imagery, huh?”
General Lesley chuckled a little. “I told you, didn’t I? Letting War Machine Armor go would be a suicide bombing to a deserted building, PR wise. But even more than that, we are reluctant to let such an outstanding member go without at least a diagnosis from a more renowned expert. I’ll be frank here, Colonel, we were prepared to make up whatever new position in our upper echelon just so you can stay and serve with your experiences on the field, both in and out of the War Machine armor.”
Rhodey’s eyes widened. That was… unexpectedly nice of the Brass. “That was incredibly generous of all of you… thank you. Although I suppose that won’t be necessary now, would it? I would be field ready in no time, so no further adjustment should be needed.”
“Needed, maybe not. But one additional idea caught… and we decided that we really do want the change to happen. Colonel, United States Air Force has decided to revive Project EXO-wings under the agreement with the Sokovia Accords Council. Two new soldiers have been thoroughly selected and vetted to be the users of said wings: EXO-8 Harrier, and EXO-9 Peregrine. You, as the pilot of the War Machine Armor have also been selected for a promotion to the rank of Major General, and would thus act - outside the mandated accords operation - as their Commanding General.”
Now, Rhodey was not a person that could be easily left gaping like a goldfish, but that was exactly what he did: gape like a dumb goldfish outta the water bowl. “…Sir, that’s… that’s a lot of information to absorb.”
General Lesley outright laughed at his astonishment. “I bet. The two new pilots are not up to discussion, since they both are now ready for field operation. Your promotion, however, would only come into effect once you agree to it. Without the promotion, you would still hold a higher rank than both of the newcomers, since they are both Majors. But they won’t report to you outside the Accords’ business, which would be a hassle for us since we’re looking into the possibility of turning this arrangement into the blueprint for a new division in US Air Force.”
Schooling his expression and posture back to disciplined professionalism, Rhodey answered, “I see…. However, I will have to at least inform the rest of the Avengers about this first before I can agree to anything, sir. I am the first one to know, am I?”
“You are. And I think it would be best for you to be the one that break the news to the team…. Harrier and Peregrine would, of course, sign the Sokovia Accords, but we wouldn’t feel right to impose new members to the Avengers without their approval. I can assure all of you, however, that their track records are nothing short of stellar. They are both intelligent, driven, and most importantly competent in and out of the field. We handpicked them with the latest incident in mind, so there shouldn’t be any chance of them acting out the way Wilson did.”
Rhodey nodded and saluted the General when he indicated that their conversation was over. “Very well, General. I will report back to you as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Colonel. Good day.”
The line cut, and Rhodey sat back down heavily. Tony was going to be in for a surprise when he came back.
As if prompted, his cellphone rang with Tony’s special emergency tone.
He picked up quickly. “Tones? What’s up?”
“Hey there, Platypus…. Is the kid with you? Cassidy?”
Rhodey blinked confusedly. “Uh… no? I’m in the meeting room, an Air Force General just called me.”
“Huh, wonder what they could want…. Alright then, I need you to do something for me, Rhodey.” Tony’s voice took a more sedate, careful tone on the last part.
“’Course, you crazy. What do you need?”
“We found both Harley and Tracy Crowley. But she got badly injured during our scuffle with Ross. I’m gonna need you to distract him for a few hours until Cho can stabilize her enough for her to have visitors.”
“Wait, what? You’re done? Holy shit, that was fast. How’s everyone? How’s Harley? Is he okay? How about that Spider-Kid?”
Rhodey could hear the wince in Tony’s voice. “Yeah, a lot happened, but all in all that went quickly. Harley’s okay, just asleep. Peter… well, he’s wounded too… not as bad as Crowley, but….”
“Damn…. Right, how long do you need him distracted?”
“12-ish hours. Think you can manage that long?”
Oh hell, nah. “Tony, I’m good, but that’s pushing it. Tell you what, I’ll keep the kid preoccupied until you get his sister in the ER, but after that, we rotate. Deal?”
“Ugh, fine,” Tony groused. “I’ll call Pep and Happy too. It’s going to be a long day.”
Rhodey chuckled. “Just do it like you did with Harley and Peter, and you’ll be fine. Just be careful not to adopt him on accident.”
Tony sputtered indignantly.
“See ya!” Rhodey ended the call with an unholy amount of glee.
He got up with a whir of his braces, still chuckling to himself. Things were finally looking up for all of them. The Accords were garnering support left and right with every amendments pushed forward. The empty ranks in the Avengers were slowly getting filled back in. Ross was caught, waiting for his punishment. Harley’s safe and sound. Peter wasn’t too badly injured. Tony was getting better by the day, and Rhodey would walk again in less than 10 months.
What could go wrong?
(Undisclosed Location, South America)
Natasha read the newspaper title out loud, “AERA and PIERA Debut Joint Mission a Massive Success.”
Both Steve and Sam kept silent. It has only been a few months since the debacle in Leipzig, and already they could see the cards falling all around them. The Accords get amended, more and more countries voiced their support not only by signing the document, but also by gathering enhanced personnel and made their own teams of Superhero.
As far as her simple comrades were concerned, those new teams were nothing but a passing trend, some sort of new arms race between the nations.
But she was a spy, the best one there ever was. She knew that it meant something else: that Stark’s camp had been in the right, and the world had started to grasp that.
More and more country signed into the accords by the day, hoping to gain protection and help from one of the teams of superheroes regulated by said accords. Which meant that the range of her team’s already restricted movement would be further strained the more they let this go.
It rubbed her the wrong way to think that Stark single-handedly inspired these changes. She was sure that the “civil war” would leave him incapacitated and placid, which meant free-range ground for her and her team. But no, like a phoenix (or perhaps a cockroach) he rose from the ashes and made her job even more difficult than necessary.
Why that man couldn’t just leave the hero’s job to actual heroes, she didn’t know.
By the news about Thaddeus Ross that kept on popping every once in a while, however, she figured that it must be because of some sort of guilty conscience of his that always made him obsessively look for a fix and solution. This time, however, she wasn’t anywhere near him to direct hose obsession and guilt into a healthy, productive behavior.
That would have to change.
She shifted her voice to a more playful, sultry tone. “Well, can’t have these newbies show us up now, can we? Here, all the intel I found about these guys’ hideout. It’s pretty small, shouldn’t be too hard for just the two of you to clear.”
Steve looked up at her and frowned. “What? Why? Where are you going?”
She already checked her pack and weapons. Her bites were in need of some fixing. Perfect timing. “I have some business to take care of. Should help us with our next missions.”
Sam nodded complacently just like he always did. “Okay, if you’re sure. What kind of business, though? Is it gonna be dangerous?”
Natasha gave him her cockiest smirk. “I feel kind of bad having to leave you boys to this, actually. I have a feeling I might actually have a little bit of fun where I’m going.”
Without waiting for further response, the Black Widow slunk out of their hideout.
In her hands, she hold the information she gathered about the latest news about Tony Stark. His “son.” She knew better than most, of course. Tony Stark did not, in fact, have any biological offspring. Which was surprising, considering his promiscuous past. She was starting to belief that Stark was barren - especially with his tendency to get so soft around other people’s children, like that Spider-Man he recruited.
This Harley Keener boy was no different. A pet project of Stark’s, dotted on like his own son because the former playboy wasn’t about to have one of his own.
According to her sources, the paparazzo that leaked the picture was actually bribed by Thaddeus Ross himself. Which meant that this boy, declared missing 15 hours ago by Tennessee Police Department, was now in Ross’ hands.
What better way to ingratiate herself, and by proxy, her whole team, to Stark other than handing him his pretend-son on a silver platter? Or maybe dangled him above his head for a while, made sure he remember this time, who’s in charge.
Oh, well. Details. She never had any patience for that sort of stuff. The mission wasn’t something that needed any detailed planning, anyway. She didn’t even need to bring any back-ups. Not that she had any to spare, Steve and Sam were busy with their mission, Lang had sold his freedom to Pym’s mercy, and Natasha wasn’t stupid enough to ask Clint for his help with such a delicate procedure.
Acquiring this boy’s trust implied subtlety, and a guy who ranted about Tony Stark the Devil Incarnate every other hour was definitely not one for the job.
No, Natasha had to do this one herself. Not that she had any worry about anything going wrong, of course. Ross was slippery, and no one in Stark’s rooster had any capabilities like hers. They wouldn’t be able to find the boy in time without her help.
She chuckled inwardly. This was almost too easy.