Precious Cargo, Part Two: A Few Hours Earlier
Summary:
Tony gets into trouble at the local Christmas market — and unfortunately, Morgan is with him.
(In case you missed it: Part One)
--*--
A Few Hours Earlier
“Why not push the press conference back ‘til tomorrow? Or tonight
even if they’re that insistent. It’s not like any real harm was done.”
“Tony,” Pepper sighed as she pulled her pea coat off the hook by
the front door and shrugged it on, “as much as I’d love to extend my maternity
leave indefinitely, someone made me CEO ten years ago.” Oh
yeah, Tony thought. One of the best decisions I’ve ever made, actually.
Damn it. “When something goes boom, I have to make a statement and I have
to make it fast — unless you want our stocks to tank.”
The previous night, a sleep-deprived researcher working at Stark
International’s Long Island branch had accidentally tripped the wrong switch,
setting off a terrific sound and light show that drove everyone in the
surrounding neighborhoods from their beds and out into the streets. Outside the
lab in question, there was no serious damage, no chemical fallout — nothing that
would warrant a public panic. But people were twitchy anyway — and, Tony had to
admit, they had every right to be given the world they now lived in.
That didn’t mean he was happy to let Pepper go dance her dance
with the media, though. Far from it. He’d been looking forward to this day for weeks
— ever since the county supervisors voted to bring back the annual Christmas
market “to boost morale”. From what he’d heard, the locals used to pull out all
the stops for this event pre-Thanos, including everything from kiddie rides to
fairway games to photos with Santa Claus. Granted, Tony had no idea if this
year’s celebration would be quite as elaborate; national supply lines were
still a bit unreliable from time to time, and labor was still scarce. But this
market sounded like the perfect place to start Morgan’s first holiday season —
even if it was a shadow of its former self and even if Morgan was far too young
for most of what it might offer.
Frowning at the disruption of his carefully laid plans, Tony
reached out and pulled Pepper close, sandwiching their swaddled baby in the
tight space between them. “I was really hoping to win you a teddy bear,” he
told his wife as their noses touched.
Pepper giggled, digging her fingertips into the nape of Tony’s neck.
“And after that,” he continued, “I was going to buy us both mugs
of cream soda and ridiculously fattening funnel cakes to eat by
the Christmas tree in the village square.”
“Going for all the cliches, Mr. Stark?”
“Mmm. Absolutely.”
They kissed, long and deep — until Morgan scolded them with a
whine, waving one fist in frustration at her confinement.
“I know, princess, I know,” Tony chuckled, breaking the lip-lock.
“Mommy and Daddy are gross. But trust me: you’ll feel differently when you’re
older.”
Pepper rested one hand on Tony’s shoulder and cupped his cheek
with the other. “Take a hundred pictures for me.”
“Easy peasy. FRI is coming with me.”
“Good. And if Murray’s Bakery has a stall there, you can bring me
back one of their famous banana cream pies.”
“Aye aye, boss lady.”
Pepper grabbed her keys, moved in for one more quick kiss, and
then opened the door — only to pause before she’d fully crossed the threshold,
her face taking on a sterner cast. “Please remember, Tony: foodstuffs and gifts
yes, animals no.”
“Mooom.”
“Tony.”
“Don’t worry, honey. I’m kidding.” Sort of. “I swear: no
furry surprises. Cross my heart.”
It was a good thing Tony hadn’t promised no surprises at all.
--*--
Indeed, Tony almost broke the more limited promise
he did make. After he’d filled the trunk of the Audi with
candies, pies, a few Christmas ornaments, and one beautiful handwoven pashmina
- and after he’d taken Morgan for her scheduled meeting with Jolly Old Saint
Nick - his casual Saturday meanderings eventually led him to a large red barn
that had been permanently erected at the edge of the county fairground. There,
an unnamed alpaca very nearly did him in.
Not that this was Tony’s fault. On no! Said alpaca
had the most laughable face you could possibly imagine. Its brown, shaggy mop of
a mane very nearly covered its eyes completely — and that shock of wool was
complemented by a spectacular set of buck teeth that elicited instant smiles
from daddy and daughter alike. For Tony, it was love at first sight. He must’ve
stood there for at least ten minutes feeding the beast and massaging its coat
before someone else finally came along and shattered the spell.
“The owner’s put that fella up for sale, you know. Not quite show
quality.”
At the unexpected interruption, Tony dropped the tuft of grass he
had been holding and turned towards the voice. Inside the next paddock, a man
in manure-streaked duds leaned against the fence and favored Tony with a
gentle, knowing grin. “Figured you should know,” he said. “Since you seem quite
taken with ‘im.”
“Yeah.” Tony hefted Morgan up a bit so she was sitting a little
more squarely against his heart. “I’d love to — but I kind of told my wife I
wouldn’t. Not on this trip.”
“Well, the info’s on the gate if you change your mind.”
“Thanks.”
Then Tony, contemplating his next move, quietly watched Overalls
for a while as the farmer, presumably, tended to his own livestock.
“What do you think, Morguna?” Tony eventually murmured after he’d
surreptitiously snapped several photos of his newfound animal buddy and his
placard. “Think we can convince your mom to take in one more stray?”
That was the moment the day officially went pear-shaped.
Before Morgan could offer even one coo in response to Tony’s
query, a loud, rending crash - and several screams - echoed through the
building. The alpacas before Tony startled, kicking up clouds of
stinking dirt as they skittered backwards and screeched in alarm.
Instinctively, Tony jumped back himself, wrapping his arms protectively around
Morgan’s head.
What the hell?
“Everybody down on the ground!”
“Submit to your true saviors!”
“Submit to the Children of Thanos!”
Fuck.
Tony crouched behind a bale of hay and activated his watch
gauntlets. “FRI,” he called sotto voce. “Activate Starksight and get a fix on
my location. Show me what I’m up against. And send a signal to the compound
while you’re at it.”
His shades flashed blue, then pulled up a view of the barn’s
interior. The attackers had apparently decided to plow a U-haul truck through
the far entrance, showering the people and horses there with wood splinters and
sparks. Three, it looks like. All armed. But I can probably get Morgan to
safety if I — shit.
One of the cultists - a skinny kid with a serious acne problem - had grabbed a diminutive, terrified young woman and was holding her at gunpoint. “Give us all
the valuables you’ve got or this one gets it!” he shrieked, his voice cracking
on the final word.
Tony was now in a quandary. The very last thing he
wanted to do was get into a fight — not with Morgan strapped to his chest. But
he was also armed — and every chivalrous bone in his body was imploring him to
save the hostage, who was currently bleeding from a serious puncture wound in
her leg.
Tony took three deep breaths -- then, activating the repulsor in
his right hand and deploying a shield with his left, he stood, taking care to
position Morgan away from the line of fire.
“Hey, Zits!” The shout rang through the open space, attracting the
attention of everyone present. “How ‘bout you drop your guns before I burn
holes between your eyes?”
Zits and his accomplices stared at their new opponent in
slack-jawed disbelief. Tony, for his part, took advantage of their
shock-induced indecision and fired four precision shots, slagging their pistols
and then frying the bottom of Zits’ right sneaker.
Not the sharpest tools in the shed. Probably didn’t even buy
coverage for that truck they rented.
“Iron Man?” Zits squeaked in pain. “Didn’t you retire?”
“Well, you know how it is,” Tony retorted, forcing nonchalance.
“After a year watching The People’s Court and playing canasta at the old
folks’ home, a guy can get a little bored. Now are you gonna surrender before I
decide to hit something vital?”
“Ah, that’s right. They do say you’re a regular
smartass.”
What? Who?
Beside the U-haul’s steaming grill, a fourth man suddenly
materialized out of thin air. “Unfortunately, Mr. Stark, you’ve made a mistake
emerging from your hidey-hole. We’re not quite as unprepared for your tricks as
you might think. Not anymore.”
The ghost slipped two fingers into his right breast pocket — and
with a crackle of lightning, Tony’s gauntlets died.
Shit. Shit, fuck, piss!
“Take him, Children. I’m sure he’ll be of more use than a couple
of wallets.”
Tony was no slouch — but four against one were odds he just
couldn’t beat.
No comments:
Post a Comment