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GreenGrenade
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Lord Wraith
The Man of T.O.Morrow
S i l i c o n A l l e y, M a n h a t t a n, N e w Y o r k
Tony ordered the pilot to turn the VTOL round and take it back to Silicon alley, figuring it would be easier for the authorities to deal with them there than anywhere else. The goons stood at opposite ends of the aircraft, noses stuck in the 'naughty' corners, warned not to make so much as a peep. Thomas Morrow sat alone, arms wrapped around his torso as he rocked back and forwards, the skin of his face and hands an off-white. Tony knew the signs of shock when he seen them. He could sympathize, he'd been in Morrow's shoes before, only there'd been no man-in-a-can to save him.
J.A.R.V.I.S had called ahead, warning the police that the A.I.M craft would be returning. Tony was eager to avoid any trigger happy cops thinking that the surrendering aircraft was making another pass. The airspace around S.T.A.R wasn't as empty as he'd left it though, police copters jockeying with news choppers eager for a story, leaving hardly enough room for the VTOL to land. Most cleared the area quickly enough after realizing the newcomer was an A.I.M craft though. Regardless of J.A.R.V.I.S's entreaties to the gunships intent, most weren't willing to take the risk of sharing the skies with it.
When they'd landed Tony walked the operatives, sans helmets and hands held high above their heads, out at repulsor point, taking things very slow. The beat cops had been bolstered by armed response SWAT teams now, and each and every one of them were shooting their best stink eyes, but thankfully that was all that they were shooting. Upon realizing that the villains of the piece were well and truly subdued, a ragged cheer went up from the crowd, increasing in intensity and volume as the shaken professor Morrow stumbled down the exit ramp. Several EMT's broke the cordon to rush to his side, while the A.I.M agents were cuffed and lumbered (none too gently) into the back of police vehicles.
“Well, that's the easy part done.” Tony muttered to himself. Now came the hard part. Dealing with reporters.
He marched towards the journo's with as much real gusto as a man walking to his execution, the suit thumping a discordant beat with every step upon the concrete. He didn't have to do this part, he reminded himself, he didn't have to play nice for the cameras. He chose to. Like or not Iron Man was a franchise now, and the more he got snapped smiling in triumphant, one foot raised heroically upon the slumped forms of his conquered foes, the more powerful that franchise became. The more powerful it became, the more money it made. The more money it made, the more people he could help. Philanthropic economics 101.
That, and every time he got in the papers playing the hero the more it would spit in the eye of Lex Luthor, who still hadn't invited him to join the League. Petty, sure, but Tony would be the first to admit that he was no saint.
So he smiled for the camera's flashing lights, helmet held under his arm as he answered questions and joked with onlookers. If you had known Tony when he was a shy youth you never would have recognized him now, all glib confidence and showy smirks. A naturally razor sharp wit and years of being in the public eye had conspired to craft Tony into the quintessential media darling, though of late hee had mixed feelings about the whole scene. On the one hand he enjoyed the attention and adulation he received, on the other he felt that enjoying that attention was the first step on the slippery slope that had once seen him peddle misery for profit so eagerly. He was already beginning to feel guilty for enjoying himself. It was the guilt that made him hate having to deal with the media so.
Ah, but the uniquely quaint mental tortures men will visit upon themselves. It never ceased to surprise him.
He excused himself to a chorus of disappointed sighs, and crossed over to the ambulance where professor Morrow was being treated. He seemed calmer now, a blanket wrapped around his thin shoulders, staring into space while a EMT stood nearby, filling in notes. Tony coughed to announce his presence, though Morrow's disconnectedly slow reaction suggested that he might not have completely returned to the land of the living.
"Would you consider it a stupid question if I asked how you were feeling?"
Morrow gazed up at him vacantly for a moment, and Tony wondered if the professor was doing even worse than he'd initially suspected, but eventually a tired, half-hearted smile tried to spread across the scientists face, though it failed to reach his eyes.
"Not at all. And in answer, I've had better days. Though it could have been much worse if not for you, mister Stark, for which you have my gratitude."
Tony smiled in return, relaxing slightly when it became apparent that Morrow wasn't so badly shaken after all.
"All in a days work." Their was only a dash of self-depreciation to his tone. "So did A.I.M let slip about why they wanted you?"
Tony had a fairly good idea as to what A.I.M was up to on that front. The group had set themselves up as highly advanced weapons dealers all across the world, and while some of their tech came from their own work, most of it was stolen, or coerced designs from scientists with more scruples. Morrow, one of the planets foremost minds on robotics, was no doubt in the latter camp.
"I'm afraid they said very little to me, mister Stark. . . "
The professor fell silent, and Tony began to think that their conversation had come to a wordless conclusion until Morrow muttered under his breath, almost to low for the billionaire to hear.
"I wonder if I'll ever stop being afraid."
Stark stepped forward and dropped to a knee in front of the sitting professor, and forced the older man to meet his gaze.
"Listen to me Thomas, because this is important. I've been where you are, and I came through it. Dented, scuffed, and dirty maybe, but I came through it all the same. No matter what else happens, you need to remember one very important thing. They can only beat you if you let them. Don't let them. The fear while fade, bit by bit, day by day. All you have to do is not let them beat you."
The professor seemed to waver for a second, and Tony was afraid that the older man would look away, but at the last second he seemed to straighten in his seat, and managed a stiff nod. Tony smiled. He hoped the advice would work for Morrow, and that the fear would go away.
Lord knows it hadn't worked for him.
The Iron Avenger was distracted by a commotion from behind them. He clambered back to his feet and turned to face the noise.
"Oh Hell. Just in time."
A small group of men and women wearing skin tight blue and white body suits were pushing their way through the crowds towards him. He recognized the S.H.I.E.L.D outfits immediately, as he'd had more dealings than he'd care to admit with the organisation, mostly when he was still an arms dealer. At their head, wearing a scowl so deep and glaring at him so intently that he was half certain she meant to kill him, was Maria Hill.
If King Faraday was Amanda Waller's right hand, then Maria Hill was her left. Tony liked to think that it was the hand she liked to hit people with.
"Who's that?"
Morrow had leaned around Tony to get a better look, and had managed to lay eyes on the steadily advancing Hill. She'd be in shouting range soon. Not that she was ever out of shouting range.
"That's my que to exit."
Tony fixed his helmet back into place. Maria, realizing what he was up to, doubled her pace, agents behind her jostling even harder through the crowds.
"What, really?"
"I'm afraid so. Keep an eye on your inbox though. I'll have a proposal for you in a few days. Stay safe Thomas. . . And sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
"For leaving you alone to deal with Maria."
Morrow didn't look any less confused, but Tony didn't have any more time to spend explaining. He hit the throttle, the suit taking off with it's customary smoothness. He did one flyover for the fans, and fancied he could hear Hill snarling his name as he passed.
That last bit put a real nice shine on the whole outing for him.