Fic: Worshiping at the Modern Altar Chapter 8, R

[tresmaxwell.livejournal.com]

Universe: Movie
Rating: R
Warnings: Strong violence and language
Beta: None
Summary: Steve is too far away, too far to save him.
Pairings/Characters: Steve/Tony, plus loads of other characters... like everyone.
Word Count: About 5,700



Thanks again for all your reviews!

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Chapter Seven - LINK

Chapter Eight - An Echo of the Past

Tony woke with a start and winced. A sharp, full-body ache pounded against his skin with any movement. He stared at the ceiling, carefully flexing each extremity starting with his feet. Everything moved the way it should and the pain wasn't too extreme with any specific motion, so he was certain it was only bruising.

He was shocked he was still in one piece considering how Scorn's pets ripped the armor off him. He'd fought them with his bare fists when he had nothing else, until one of them hit him over the head. At least, he thought he'd been hit on the head. That part was a little fuzzy. The sore tissue on the back of his skull reinforced the idea.

Rhodes was going to kill him over War Machine. Even promising to make him another suit wasn't going to quell the air force colonel's anger. Tony had tried to replace it in the past, but Rhodey liked the original the best. Never one for sentiment, Tony didn't understand it.

When Tony tried to sit up, restraints tightened at his wrists. He craned his neck to see them. They were thick, leather straps with buckles in the center. Deciding how to get them undone faded into the back of his mind when he noticed all the wires hooked into the arc reactor.

The thin, sleeveless shirt he'd been wearing to work on War Machine was pushed up by his collarbones, leaving his chest exposed. His glass cover for the arc was missing, and wires cut across both pectorals and disappeared between the casing and the reactor itself. He followed the lines to a monitor that was recording the output. His levels looked good, considering the beating he'd taken, but he knew what the readouts meant. Scorn was going to try to replicate it.

Tony pulled at the restraints, wishing he had the same brute strength as his teammates. When they wouldn't give, he thunked his head onto the table and groaned at the bright explosion of fire from the spot where he'd been hit. Tony closed his eyes against the swell of dizziness that followed.

Thinking of his team made him think of Steve. He was going to be livid, not because Tony had been caught, but because he went alone. The Captain was probably losing his mind right now. Remorse tore at Tony's insides.

"It is a truly beautiful achievement."

From the sound of her voice, Tony could tell Scorn was somewhere behind him, but he didn't bother to look for her. He knew he couldn't twist his head into the right angle. He replied snidely, "Everything I make is an achievement. You should see how many awards I have piled in the hall closet. Pretty sure there are a few Nobel's in there if you want one."

Scorn's heels clicked around to his side. When she'd been standing silently for several moments, Tony finally opened his eyes. Scorn put her hands above his shoulders, her hair draping around them like a curtain, blocking out the overhead lights. The reactor swathed them in a cool glow. She was close enough that the green and gold flecks in her dark irises caught Tony's attention. He clenched his teeth, praying that she wasn't planning on kissing him. If he had to talk his way out of lip-gloss, things were going to be even harder with Steve.

"I'm taken, so all of this stalking and entrapment is unnecessary, but I do know a good therapist that can help you work through your desperation issues."

Scorn's face remained blank at the comment. She shifted her weight to one arm and ran her fingers through his hair, "It's lonely being as brilliant as we are. No one truly understands the workings of a mind like Einstein, or Tesla, or Stark."

"We?" Tony arched one brow, trying to provoke her into revealing more. "I'm sorry, did we join Mensa together and I missed it?"

She chuckled softly and ran a thumb over his cheek, the fleshy pad catching on the stubble he hadn't gotten the chance to shave. Usually personal grooming was a top priority for him, but he'd been a little busy. The closeness was making him twitchy. He turned his face to the side to get away from the touch.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Scorn asked. "I didn't think a man of your reputation could ever be uncomfortable around a woman, or a man, for that matter." Her hand trailed down his throat, past his shirt and Steve's tags, and swirled tenderly over the edge of the arc.

Knowing she wanted a knee-jerk reaction from him, Tony forced a tight smile, "I've been around the block. If you're looking for a free handout, I'm afraid I ran through those a couple of years ago. I think any one of your buddies outside would be happy to-"

Scorn's eyes went to slits and she nudged two of the lines together. They created a mini surge that bolted through his chest, sending his heart into arrhythmia. Tony gasped and involuntarily jerked against the restraints. His back came up off the table as his heart pounded so hard he swore it was going to break through his ribcage. When it slowed, he dropped, boneless and sweating. His glare was weak, but as acidic as he could manage.

"There now, that's better. You tongue is very sharp, Mr. Stark, but you forget that you're not the one holding the cards." Scorn sat up and slid her mass of hair to one shoulder. It ran down her front like black blood. "Your suits are going to prove to be a useful asset. When Iron Man suddenly turns on his own nation, who else will respond but your Avengers?"

Tony could see the edges of her plan. From the train and the tower, he'd learned that she loved large, disastrous distractions and getting his suits running would be a very big distraction, especially if no one knew it wasn't him. While they were fighting with a false Iron Man, she'd be doing something unspeakable with her collection of juiced up convicts. Tony didn't appreciate where the idea led him. A lot of people were going to get killed if they couldn't stop her.

Scorn went to the computer and paged through some of the readouts. While her back was turned, Tony twisted his hands around in the leather restraints. He opened and closed his fists to loosen them, but nothing was working. Before he could get them to budge, Scorn straightened and went to the cell door.

Knocking twice, she cast one more look at him and said, "When they bring your boyfriend in, I'll make sure you get to room together. I'm sure you two will want to get a little fucking in before I drain him."

Tony stopped breathing when he understood what she meant. The only thing she would still need for the serum was in Steve's blood. She would've had to replicate the blood she'd stolen from the tower to make the creatures Tony faced already, but that would only get her so far. The stabilizer was Steve.

"This has nothing to do with me, you're waiting for him," the statement passed through his mouth as the fact formed in his mind.

The raven-haired woman didn't turn while she waited for the guard outside, speaking to the wall, "I'm never one to waste my resources, but yes. With you here, he'll come running like the faithful hound he is."

"I don't think you realize how bad that idea is."

"I'm nothing if not prepared, Mr. Stark. I know exactly what to expect from your companions now that we've seen them in action."

Tony's brow pinched at the enigmatic words, but he didn't ask. The lock disengaged with the rusted screech of metal on metal and the scruffy gatekeeper stepped back to let Scorn through. As she left the cell, a very large man came in to take her place. Tony had to look up at almost everyone, but he was fairly certain that even standing, he'd have to crane his neck to see the man's broad face.

Scorn pet his arm in passing, "Make sure he stays here."

"No problem," the giant said, his voice in a timber so deep that he had to be mainlining sulfur hexafluoride. It was the only gas that could make someone sound like a chronic smoker, the best trick besides sucking the helium out of the birthday balloons when the party's gone to hell.

The door slammed shut behind Scorn, leaving Tony with the dark-skinned colossus. Crossing his arms over his considerable chest, the man rooted himself in front of the doorway as if Tony was going to test him bound up like a patient in a psyche ward. His arms were thick with muscle, made more apparent by the position. The tattoos on his skin were from some gang Tony wasn't familiar with. If the guy had gotten as far as college, he would've made a hell of an athlete, but his life had gotten derailed at some point.

Feeling something warm and wet slide down his wrist, Tony quit pulling at the bindings. He was going to need some leverage to get out, and he was looking right at it, "Did your mother breast-feed you growth hormones, or did your boss give you some steroids? You do know that those can cause some-" Tony made a face, "problems with your packaging."

"You're a little man with a big mouth. Where I grew up, that got you killed," the giant said plainly, but with the gravelly undertone of aggravation.

Tony could believe that and he was beginning to think it was the direction he was headed in, but he had to free himself before Steve came charging into trap handcrafted for him. He couldn't have long before that happened. It would've taken SHIELD an hour at the most to get through the guards on the search he'd performed, and maybe another twenty or thirty minutes for the team to reroute from their mission in Kentucky. Tony didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but he suspected he only had precious minutes to get out if he was going to save the others.

"When you're as intelligent as I am, you can afford to have a big mouth. I think there's a baseline for it though, and IQ of one-sixty and above. Anywhere below that you should probably think twice before you say something." Tony wasn't sure how much he'd have to prod the colossus to get him to engage. There were dozens of variables, but the only result he was interested in was getting the big man fighting mad. "You probably drop in at eighty? Ninety? One hundred is average, so don't feel bad. Though, your steroids might cut a few of your points."

Steely blue-gray eyes fixed on him and the tendon in the man's square jaw ticked. Tony wasn't looking forward to the snap. It was going to hurt.

He pressed on, "I'm sorry, is it not steroids? What are the kids doing these days? Heroin, coke? Or were you a seller? Is that what landed you in jail where you met all of your new friends? I bet your mother was proud."

When his nostrils flared and he lifted his chin, Tony knew he'd found an exposed nerve. The guy was young, barely in his twenties. If Scorn scooped him out of prison for this and he was eager to leave, he had a long sentence left. No doubt his mother's disappointment was extreme, and he was young enough to care.

"Did she come to your hearing? Let's face it, no mother ever thinks her child is capable. Unless it wasn't your first time. After the three strikes thing kicks in, you'd think she'd learn," every edged word made the guard's anger mount higher and higher. Tony could see veins pulsing on the tense fold of his arms. Another good push would send him over the edge. "Did she send you care packages with lube?"

"Shut. The fuck. Up."

Tony snarled, "Why don't you make me? I chew up guys like you for my morning workout; I'd send you crying back to your daddy. Now, is he in the White Supremacists or the-"

It only took two steps for the giant to cross the room and clamp a hand around Tony's throat. Not the response Tony was fishing for, it took him by surprise. The man's thick fingers were long enough that they nearly met at the nape of Tony's neck. When they tightened, the index finger and thumb touched.

Tony tried to gasp through his constricted windpipe, his tennis shoes scraping wildly against the table as he struggled. The man jerked him up so the bindings snapped against his wrists. The straps holding him vibrated with the force of it, thrumming like a plucked harp-string. His lungs burned and his eyes drifted back into his skull. He could feel the pull of the wires in his chest. They sparked hotly as they shifted positions.

"You really wanna know how I got canned? It was murder in the first degree, and if you don't shut your cock-sucking mouth, you're gonna find out exactly what I did to him," was exhaled low and dangerous against his face.

The hand disappeared and Tony fell back onto the table, dragging air into his deprived lungs so quickly it made him lightheaded. He turned his wrists in the cuffs. His flesh was raw, but the bindings were loose. Folding his thumb into his palm, he pulled until he felt it give. He blinked furiously to clear his vision and reached across his body to rip the other restraint open.

The soft click of the buckle caught the convict's attention. He lunged towards Tony, but Tony was faster. He flipped off the far side of the slab and grabbed the cords dangling from his body with both hands, tearing them out of the monitor. Wrapping up the insulated part of the line, he circled the furniture to avoid the convict. Tony took hold of the electrified line right were the rubber disappeared and the live wire started.

With a roar, the convict tossed the table out of the way, barely missing Tony. He dove at him once there was nothing between them. Baring his teeth, Tony ducked under the reaching hands and jammed the end of the wires against his chest. Three million kilowatts streaked through the convict's body from the reactor. His massive frame convulsed sporadically and blood ruptured from his ears and the corners of his eyes. When the smell of burning flesh hit him, Tony stumbled away.

The giant crumpled slowly, his muscles still tensing with the aftershocks. Tony dropped the insulated line as the dead man hit the floor, staring blankly his own blistered wrists. Swallowing made him wince and he gingerly touched the tender flesh at his throat. The bruise was undoubtedly in the shape of a hand. It would be difficult to explain away.

Tony shook his close call and yanked the wires out of his reactor. He found the arc's cover on the cart with the computer equipment. Snapping it in place, Tony adjusted his shirt and went over to listen at the door. There was movement outside.

A shuffling step approached and then a shout came through, "Jamal, man, what's going on?"

Tony pressed his back against the wall.

"Hey, puta! Answer me." There was a pause, and the voice reminded Jamal, "If you're doing something nasty to him, you know she's going to be pissed."

Eyebrows going up, Tony decided he could jump on that. He made a pained groan that was almost too filthy. It would've made Steve blush purple. Lewd as it was, it worked. The rusty, metallic screech of the lock permeated the room and the door opened. A bulldog of a man entered, spitting curse words in Spanish.

"Madre de Dios, man! What the hell are you-"

Tony caught him in the Adam's apple with his elbow and anything else the man had to say came out as a gurgle. Tony's shoes lost traction on the smooth cement as he ran into the hall, forcing him to grab the door to stay standing. He pushed it shut and slammed the bolt home.

The long hallway was empty, for which Tony was grateful. He peered in both directions. There were cell doors like the one he'd come through spaced evenly down each side, numbering somewhere in the thirties or forties. They all had notes scribbled on the flecking white paint. Tony got the gist of it after reading only a few doors. Experiment failed, terminate. Experiment failed, draw blood and terminate. Experiment failed...

The agonizing cries that filtered through the thick doors made Tony shudder. He didn't need to explore to know what he'd find, half-changed madmen that were being crushed under the weight of their undesired mutations. There wouldn't be a way to help them. A bullet would be mercy. He went from a walk to a sprint in his hurry to get away.

At the end of the hall, Tony slowed. There was nothing to hide him but the lip of the doorway. The double doors that had once blocked off the cells from the rest of the warehouse were gone and only the twisted hinges remained. To Tony's benefit, the gaping entryway faced a bank of employee lockers so no one had seen him yet. Leaning against the frame, Tony slid into a crouch and peered out.

There were several dozen men moving in teams in the receiving bay. Some were loading military containers onto a number of trucks, well-armed men getting in with the equipment. The stenciling on the sides made Tony extremely uneasy. There were boxes of M-16 rifles and nerve gas and enough C4 to level a city block. Other semis were being filled with medical supplies.

At first, Tony couldn't figure out why they would bring all the supplies in only to reload and ship it out again the same day, but watching them move, he figured it out. Scorn was covering her ass. If Steve and the others arrived and didn't go down the way she was planning, she would lose everything. By sending out her equipment, she ensured the survival of the operation. Tony had to stop them before the trucks left the warehouse.

Moving forward in a crouch, Tony took cover behind a line of cargo. He wasn't made for espionage, so every time someone came close, Tony tensed and curled into the smallest shape he could manage. He'd only keep going after they'd left, swearing he needed to take some lessons from Natasha.

A guy in a bright blue jumpsuit picked up a crate ahead of him, leaving a gap in his cover. Tony exhaled, "Great," and slid all the way to the edge of the opening. From his new position, he could see Scorn standing in the middle of the organized chaos. She must have given out all the orders already, because she was only watching her men swarm around like ants. As she turned her head in his direction, Tony jerked behind a stack of plastic containers. When no one started shouting and he wasn't dragged out of his hiding place, Tony assumed she didn't see him.

Waiting until an opportune moment was next to impossible with so many men working around him, so Tony held his breath and darted across the gap. He kept moving after that, wanting to get to the military supplies before they were all gone. There was a pile of metal cases in the corner of the warehouse with the markings he was looking for. Tony flicked open the latches, eyes constantly scanning the area as he removed several gray, clay-like bricks. He slipped his shirt off and stacked as many of them as he could on the stained material. On the way back, he grabbed a small box of blasting caps and a detonator.

Blood rushing through his ears, Tony slapped one of the C4 bricks on a support beam by the weapons' shipment. It took him several seconds to get the blasting cap armed, every one of them dragging by like an eternity. Tony checked the remote detonator to make sure it received the activation and kept going.

Once he was in the prison wing, he picked up his speed. He set up two bombs on the way down the hall and ran deeper into the warehouse. The next hall looked remarkably similar to the cellblock, but had narrow windows in the middle of the doors. Tony approached the first carefully, looking through the dark glass. The room was empty, just a few scraps of brown packing paper on the bare floor. The next was a laboratory with no one in it. Tony pushed his second to last C4 brick against the window and slid the thin blasting caps into place. The little green LED on the top of the detonator flashed to confirm that it was armed.

Tony rounded a corner and very nearly walked into the path of a convict carrying an AK-47. Panic rushed his system, but his instincts kicked in as the stout, bald man spotted him. Tony darted in close and knocked the gun aside with his palm as the barrel came up. Smacking his solar plexus forced the air from the guard's chest and ensured that he wouldn't shout for backup. When the man stumbled away, Tony swung the shirt around with the last brick of explosive in it and hit him on the glossy crown of his head. The man went down like marionette without strings.

He knelt and picked up the gun. It would be too loud to use unless he was really desperate, but he preferred to be prepared. As he was standing, the man on the ground twitched. Tony tightened his grip on the rifle, realizing that it probably wouldn't do him much good. A loud, inhuman groan echoed through the hallway and the convict's muscles bulged everywhere. Swelling rapidly, the man's skin flushed an ashy crimson as he ripped through his shirt.

Tony didn't wait for him to finish. He ran, pushing through the only door where the hall dead-ended. The bolt was on the inside, so Tony locked it and backed away. It wouldn't hold against one hit from one of Banner's monsters. His mind raced. The gun wouldn't do anything since bullets were only bee-stings and the plastic explosive would certainly kill him too. The deafening roar made Tony drop the rifle. It clattered on the cement.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Tony muttered and turned to examine his surroundings.

A huge grin surged onto his face at the sight of eight, human-length boxes lined up along the back of the room. Leaving the last brick of C4 and the detonator on the ground, Tony rushed to the boxes. He threw the lid off the first one he came to. It was MARK III, one of the suits he needed equipment to get into. The thing outside rammed the door and the metal bent sharply. Shockingly, the bolt held. Tony pushed open two of the other crates, uncovering MARK I, which was useless, and MARK IV, which was too damaged to use.

"Come on!" Tony shouted.

An arm with a ham-sized fist grabbed the bent door and wrenched it out of the frame. The red hulk tossed the chunk of metal like it was a plastic Frisbee, and reached into the room. His massive, bulky shoulders wedged in the narrow opening. The thing's face twisted with rage and it howled fiercely.

Tony kicked the lid off one of the remaining boxes and whooped, "Yeah baby! Daddy's never been so happy to see you!"

He got his electronic bracelets close to the MARK VII and the suit lit up and started to hum. The brushed gold titanium attached at his wrists first, opening up to engulf him with thousands of micro clicks as the pieces snapped into place. Praying that Jane had gotten Jarvis online, Tony lifted his chin so the helmet could close around his jaw. The faceplate banged down just as the burgundy abomination ripped the doorframe out of the wall.

The heads up display came up instantly, so the system was at least partially downloaded. Tony put his target in the middle of the creature's head and fired a high payload missile. The explosion was small, but powerful. Blood and brain matter splashed across the ceiling and walls when the monster's skull disintegrated. Tony scooped up the detonator before the body could fall on it. The suit picked up the detonation frequency and stored it so Tony could shut down the smaller device.

Putting his thrusters on low, he sped through the maze of hallways to get back to the warehouse. There wasn't any flight data, so Tony had to fly by feel. The control surfaces reacted to his movements and the way he shifted his weight. It wasn't easy and he scraped against a wall as he took the corner, sending bits of plaster and old paint into a fine cloud behind him, but being in the suits had become second nature to him. As long as he had power and weapons, he was satisfied.

Tony flashed out into the shipping bay, staying in the air. The trucks were gone. There were still enough men left to handle the team, but all of the cargo was gone. Every one of the convicts looked up at Tony. He knew he'd have to be careful not to get overwhelmed again, but being in his own suit made a huge difference in his firepower. He let Rhodey have his delusions, but War Machine wasn't up to par with Iron Man.

"Any of you up for round two?" he called, the covers coming off his weapons to expose more armaments than the gang members and murderers had probably ever seen before.

Two of them opened fire, the bullets pinging off his armor. None of the others bothered. They started stripping off gear in preparation to change. Tony set his cross hairs on twelve of them and let loose a volley of projectiles. Only half of them went down, the rest burst into their newly acquired forms.

Something tackled him from behind. He slammed against the floor with a grunt, using a boost of power from his boots to get out of the way before a second hit could come down on him. He crashed into one that had a bushy Mohawk, knocking the thing on his ass. He pushed his hand against the center of the thing's chest and transferred all of the reactor's power into his palm. The blast simultaneously shot him into the air and left a smoking crater where the abomination's heart should've been.

Hands of all shapes and colors reached for him. There were still so many. Tony wasn't sure if he was killing any of them. He cut his thrusters and landed in the middle of them, booting up the ionized lasers on top of his wrists. The glowing beams shot into the crowd as they converged on him. Tony spun in a rapid circle, going into a crouch to maximize how much damage he caused. The cartridges ejected automatically when they ran out of energy.

Those closest to him dropped in pieces, but more came from behind them. Tony's eyes went wide. There should have been more dead. The lasers should've killed everything in the room and cut into the surrounding walls. They were definitely as tough as Banner, who Tony was going to destroy the next time he saw him. If he saw him.

They swarmed towards him and Tony pulled up the detonation frequency for the C4. If he couldn't cut them down, then he could certainly bury them.

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Steve went from one corner of the jet to the other and back again. He'd been pacing since lift off, too anxious to sit still. It had taken too long for Fury to get the coordinates. They wouldn't be able to intercept Tony, they'd be lucky if they go to him before he died. It was Tony's firewalls that had held things up. There was irony in there that Steve didn't think was the least bit amusing.

A cross between a growl and a groan rolled in the back of Steve's throat before he shouted, "What's our ETA?"

It was the third time he'd asked and Natasha and Clint traded glances. Despite his wound, the archer insisted on coming with them. He'd practically had to fight off the medical crew to board the jet, though he'd allowed them to finish bandaging him first.

"ETA ten minutes, sir," the pilot responded.

"Get us there in five."

Steve knew he should have better control on himself, that this was why interoffice relationships were officially banned in SHIELD (though Fury turned his blind eye to Black Widow and Hawkeye because they were very good at keeping emotion out of their work). The director had pulled Steve and Tony aside when they'd first started dating to explain the rule and Tony promptly offered to quit. Fury didn't bring it up again.

"Steve, you're freaking everybody out," Clint told him, as blunt as always.

Thor frowned and set the head of his hammer on his knee, "I'm sorry, what does it mean to be 'freaked out'?"

"Weirded out," At Thor's blank stare, Clint added, "Uh, disturbed?"

"Ah, I understand now. With all of the circumstances considered, Steve is permitted to freak out. I would be inconsolable if something were to harm Jane."

The conversation was a hum outside of Steve's awareness. He couldn't focus on them when his thoughts were so loud. He kept telling himself that Tony was strong. Some of the enemies Iron Man had faced alone were as powerful as those they'd faced as a team, but knowing that did nothing to settle Steve's nerves. This came too close to previous experience. Like before, Steve was too far away to save him. Whether it was a distance of feet or miles, he was too far.

With a frustrated shout, Steve threw a punch into the thick metal wall of the plane. The bang was louder than mortar fire, killing the other discussions. The ache in his knuckles helped ground him. Letting the air out of his lungs slowly, Steve flattened his hand on the dent. He could feel the team watching him.

"Steve..." Natasha started.

Steve turned and settled into the analytical mindset of battle tactics. It was the only escape he had, "We know they have more of those things, so we don't want to get cornered inside a building. We'll have to draw them out. I want the jet in the air and I want Clint on the loading ramp. Shooting them in the eye seems to work, so stick with that."

"Yes, sir," Clint answered automatically.

He looked at the others, his eyes narrowing as they passed over Banner. The doctor winced as if Steve had moved to hit him. Steve ordered, "Do whatever you have to do to draw them out. I'll go in to find Tony and will alert you when we're clear."

"Captain," the pilot yelled into the back. "We just got a report in from Agent Hill, they caught up with the transport that took the law enforcement from the scene."

Steve tightened his grip on his shield, asking out of duty, "Do they need assistance?"

"No, sir. They've got it handled. Our ETA is two minutes, sir."

Steve was a little ashamed by his relief. If they had needed him, he would've gone, but he would've done so begrudgingly. Tony had very quickly become his highest priority and Steve didn't think there was anything he could do about it. He was wired that way, always had been. He had to protect the ones he loved at any cost, now maybe more so than before. Steve knew that Bucky's death had made him worse on that front.

When the pilot called out sixty seconds, Steve opened the loading ramp. Bruce was suddenly at his elbow, shouting over the noise, "Steve, listen. I'm sorry about all this. I really didn't mean to cause these kinds of problems. I just wanted to... to make it better."

Steve couldn't forgive him. Not yet. Not while Tony was still in danger. He grabbed a parachute out of the rack by the door and started strapping it on. Too mad to look the doctor in the eye, he kept his attention on his work when he answered, "We'll talk about it when this is over."

The plane decelerated and the rotating turbines turned so that they could hover over a large building with a hole in the roof. Through the puncture, Steve caught the white-blue flash of Tony's energy blasts. They were too high to see anything else, but at least Tony was alive. It did mean that he'd engaged the hostiles and their original plan wasn't going to work.

Steve turned to bark out new instructions and the building beneath them exploded. The resulting fireball roiled upward, forcing the pilot to take evasive maneuvers. The engines roared as he pushed them into full power. They shot into the sky, putting massive g-force on those inside. Steve grabbed the handhold numbly.

As the blast wave hit him, he was able to process what had happened. "Tony!" Steve screamed, running for the end of the ramp. Arms plated in silver grabbed him from behind and Thor said something he didn't hear. He fought against him, needing to go to him, to see...

Thor tightened his grip and shouted, "No, you cannot survive the fire!"

"Tony!" he wailed again, feeling his world shatter.

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TBC...

Chapter Nine - LINK