Come back to bed honey and as he looked over the tall and curvy blonde supermodel let the sheet slip down from her chest. In front of him were two of the largest.

Tony woke with a start, the incredible pain in his chest burned, and he wheezed trying to draw a deeper breath than the pain would let him. Trying to sit up he realised he had been strapped to the gurney he was on.

“No my friend, the surgery was a success but you must rest now, they have given us much food to help, even water.” The brown-skinned man, grime and sweat covering his face said, he smiled though as he looked through a wooden crate that Tony could just barely make out over the side of the bed. As he found what he was looking for, he moved over to Tony and began to examine the bandages around his chest. 

As he looked around in a panic he realised he was in a dirty, stinking brown room. Boxes and other junk littered the walls and a bare electric bulb hung from loose wires in the ceiling. The air was thick with humidity and the smell of blood and seared flesh,

His flesh. Was I in surgery? He thought and looking down he saw the wires coming out of his chest, and as he moved to touch one the man slapped his hand.

“No no no. In the explosion you suffered a grievous injury, there is shrapnel being pulled to your heart by arterial pressure. I used a small electromagnet to keep them away,” and he pointed to a car battery by Tony's side. “It is powering the device, it should keep you alive, well, for now anyway. Here, drink, you'll need your strength soon enough," and the man handed him a cold cup of something, soup, thin and bitter but to Tony, it was the finest broth he had ever tasted. "Dr Ho Yinsen. I am afraid I did the best I could under the circumstances, but it is still very fine work and of course, I already know who you are, Mr Stark."

As Tony watched him he realised he was in some sort of cave, not a hospital, and flies buzzed around a chamber pot in the corner while the kind-looking man, thin with wire-framed glasses picked up, lifted them to peer at a piece of equipment and either shook his head and put it back, or nodded and added it to a pile on a workbench.

A flood of memories came back to him, the tour, the soldiers, and finally the explosion.

“I am sorry, none of the men survived and ah, our hosts wish for you to make them something.”

Another middle eastern looking man came in and spoke, bald and carrying an assault rifle, his face was not one of kindness or understanding.

“Alive, good, you will stay that way as soon as you build us those,” and he pointed to a  box, the lid had been pried open and half-assembled Jericho missiles were inside. “Fail and die.”

A sudden sense of terror filled Tony, this wasn't a random terrorist act, he had been targeted by these men to build the rockets for them. It was his own hubris that had cost the brave men and women of his convoy their lives. He had wanted to show off just how effective his tech was at killing and he had made a joke of it. In the end, it had been his own weapons used to attack the convoy and kill those soldiers, and as he raised a hand to cover his eyes, he felt the trickle of tears as the reality of his situation hit home.

This was his fault. Not just the convoy but the weapons. He had never considered that the weapons he built would be used on Americans, on him, and now as he lay, a throbbing pain in his chest and a faint tingle as the magnet thrummed, he made a vow that if, no, once he made it home, things would change, he would change.

It had been 4 months since that conversation, and as Tony looked at the hulking armoured suit, his ‘Iron Man’, he knew it was time to escape.

As they made their escape through the compound, fighting off wave after wave of terrorists, Tony felt a small measure of peace. These men had gotten what they deserved, even if it was death. His only regret was underestimating their number. 

As he saw a large group ready to swarm them Ho shouted, grabbed a gun and ran, yelling at them. His sacrifice allowed Tony to escape, tears in his eyes as the man was gunned down. Tony made a vow to return later, once he was recovered and take revenge for the man. Dr Ho Yinsen had sacrificed himself, the men and women of the convoy had sacrificed themselves and Tony vowed that there would be no more.

The suit had used up the fuel from the Jericho missiles and flown him as far away from the compound as possible, but with no guidance systems or even a simple compass he had no idea where in the world he was, or how far he had travelled. It had all been rough guesswork, sketched out in secret. As he lay, sweating under the scorching desert sun, he fought back tears, the calculations had also been for two.

It was another week before he was rescued. He had walked as far as he could, carrying a small supply of water and a few protein bars. As they ran out, so did his endurance. Tony was a playboy, not an athlete, and even he would admit he never got very far before collapsing. 

A passing caravan of camel herders spotted him, lying nearly dead in the sand and brought him to a small village where he got a phone. An army convoy was there within the hour, his best and really only friend James Rhodes personally coming to see him. He broke down as he saw the flags flapping on the armoured truck, “I can go home, I can go home,” he repeated over and over as he wept.

The plane ride over he was brought up to speed on everything, his makeshift implant was given a once over and hooked up to a much more reliable power source, he was given several booster shots and then hooked up to an IV, only allowed to eat foul-tasting nutrient paste for the first day to allow his shrunken and injured stomach to heal before proper food was allowed.

He watched the news of the attack on New York by a strange costumed Venom, of its saviour Spider-Man, and their fall from grace. He shook his head as he watched classified footage of the glider attack, his hands scrunched in fists as he saw the deaths rise.

The man was clearly insane but he had the right idea, a self-contained armoured suit had just saved his life and he felt that it would again. He wanted to show the public that it wasn't the machines of war that made them afraid, it was the people that used them, that a shining beacon could be brought forth that made the world a better place.

“Jarvis, get me schematics on the Goblin armour, any patents held by Oscorp, buy them and move them to my secure server,” and as he ate another packet of paste Tony began to plan and more importantly, to build.

It wasn’t until the betrayal of his mentor stung that Tony realised just how the greed of men affected the world around them. His quest to create an army of Ironmongers, huge hulking suits designed around the Mark One caused an explosion in the centre of New York, one big enough to draw not just the civilian authorities but the military and the international community as well. He had been given notice by the World Security Council and, taking Peppers advice, had called a press conference.

The announcement wasn't too hard to guess. An armoured man had been spotted flying over New York, fears of a new Goblin were running around, but after the same man was spotted taking out terrorists in the Middle East they knew it wasn't Norman. The gaudy red and gold of the armour led the media to call him Iron Man, which Peter thought was stupid, iron was too heavy for flight suits, it was probably some kind of poly-alloy, maybe nickel and titanium. It would be amazing if he could get his hands on one though.

The warehouse watched as Tony Stark held his press conference. He fielded questions about the bright light over New York, the appearance of the armoured hero Iron Man and whether or not they were connected to the Goblin.

“Look, Iron Man isn't some whack job like Osborn, I mean, that guy was into some heavy medical research that got a lot of good people killed, Iron Man, right? Yeah, Iron Man, he went to the middle east, saved a bunch of people. The explosion was Jebediah messing with my dad's old reactor, Iron Man had nothing to do with that.” Tony knew lying was part of the job, but outing Jebadiah would only crush Stark Industries and give the government an excuse to seize his Iron Man suits.

“What's that? Am I Iron Man?” Tony smirked and shook his head, he could see Pepper talking to a serious looking man in a well-tailored suit, and as their eyes met he smirked and hers went wide, shaking her head and mouthing 'no' at him.

“You know, I've got a lot of cards here, cards that tell me what to do, what to say, answers to all the pre-prepared questions you have, nicely vetted so I don't get too emotional on camera.” and the cameras caught Pepper swiping her hand over her throat, letting Tony know to shut up.

“But yeah, I am Iron Man.”

Peter turned off the TV and the group stared, "So, Iron Man huh?" he said and Liv shrugged,

"I doubt the armour is anything special, probably ripped of Goblin tech and without that stupid formula running through his veins Tony Stark isn't the best role model, but at least he'll probably just use it to show off."

Peter nodded, growing up Tony Stark had been his idol. He was rich, handsome and most of all brilliant. Any schematic or blueprint of his Peter could get his hands on he had and if he had to be honest, seeing Iron-Man filled him with two emotions, one that he didn't want to ever have to fight him, and second, he was kinda jealous that Stark could just build a suit and go flying in it, seemed the rich did play by their own rules and Stark was no exception.

"Don't even think about it Mr Parker, you are still in trouble for the incident in Hell's Kitchen," and Peter shrugged at Gwen but smiled as Felicia came out of her office with a pile of papers.

Peter and Felicia were both in the bad books, spending the last of the warehouse's cash and getting nothing but problems and paperwork in return. Peter's punishment had been physical in nature, but it always was. Consigned to not just the cooking, but the cleaning and the maintenance of the warehouse, his days were filled with chores and his nights with a punishment of a different, but also very physical nature.

Felicia's punishment had been more paperwork and she was finally getting round to finishing it all. Until she did, her physical activities had been put on hold, the others taking her spot to 'encourage' her to work faster.

"While that's all great and everything," Felicia started, "we have a bigger problem." She had been going over the records from the Fisk transactions,

"I found out what MGH is, it's a synthetic drug, sorry Gwen, but I really need you on this one. It's a drug, and uh, it's made from people."

~

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