Chapter Text
Tony Stark tapped his fingers against the water-ringed walnut tabletop in time to the numbers flicking by on the tablet screen. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen million and climbing. A slow smile crept across his sharp features as the tapping sped up.
How he loved this part. The culmination of weeks—months—of planning, drafting, testing all ending in the glorious thrill of watching the world bid away its meager wealth for his weapon designs. On the table today was his new repulsor tech missile system. He didn’t even have a chance to post a demonstration video before the bidding started.
Tony settled back against the leather headrest as the zeros ticked by and the bidding slowed. He took a deep drink from his scotch in salute. North Korea had dropped out, but Hydra and The Ten Rings were still at it. Tony sneered. Nazi gold and opium fortunes were all the same to him.
He looked out the window, but there was nothing but blue sky and a wash of white clouds beneath. The repulsor-powered jet cruised steadily, and Tony had to lean his head against the bulkhead to hear the faint hum of the engine. The mechanical whir was reassuring, soothing enough to fall asleep. He probably should sleep. The excitement of the last few days kept him awake, though he never really slept anyway.
But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the text from Killian across the screen: Come to Iron Works. Extremis breakthrough.
****
“No! Uh-uh. Absolutely not. This is a violation of my privacy!”
Killian glanced over his shoulder and leveled him with an “oh please Tony” look before turning his attention back to the adamantium-reinforced cell he had installed right in the middle of Tony’s innermost workshop.
“You aren’t even using this one, except to house your…tin man,” Killian said, sweeping his hand towards the half-finished cybernetic armor, swinging silently from its chains like a broken puppet.
Tony scowled. “So what? There are dozens of buildings in this compound. Pick another one.”
Killian leaned against the glass and sighed as if he were frustrated with a small child. “This is where you keep the tiny nuclear reactors, isn’t it?”
The scowled deepened. No one was supposed to know about that. “No one knows about that.”
There was another “oh please Tony” look. “I take it this room is sealed against radiation leaks and large-scale blasts?”
“It is.”
Killian smiled that beautiful, perfectly laboratory-crafted smile and tossed a tablet to Tony. “Read the file.”
Tony took the tablet and backed away a few steps, towards the darkened part of the workshop where the armor hung. The file was already opened, so he expanded it across the room’s holographic projectors.
Suddenly the air was filled with the image of a very large—and very angry—green monster crushing cars and bellowing into the camera while men in military uniforms shot at him. The bullets bounced off his green hide like Airsoft pellets.
The tablet was heavy in his hands, so he let it drop as he crossed the room back to the glass cage. He looked inside at the naked figure curled tightly on the cot, deep in a drugged sleep. The man was not old, but he was still on the downward slope of middle age, hair graying and face lined even when he was passed out cold. He was thin to the point of gaunt, with a stray dog kind of look, knees pulled up tight against his chest in an attempt to protect his vitals. A wide silver collar encircled his neck—a gamma dampener, Killian had said. Tony glanced from the man to the image on the screen, and back again. He couldn’t believe the two beings were the same person…creature…whatever.
Killian’s arm snaked around his shoulders, and his breath was warm as he leaned in close. “He figured it out, Tony. He stabilized the effects of the mutation and changed his DNA. And we’re going to find out how he did it.”
Tony squared his shoulders, and Killian took it as a cue to back off. But Tony was already too distracted with possibility to bother much with Killian. His mind whirred with the implications of what lay in front of him and he couldn’t help but glance at the armor. If he could program the nanobots to mimic the stabilization mechanism…whatever that was…he could make them do whatever he wanted. He looked again at the forlorn figure in the cage. More than anything, he looked tired.
“Where’d you get him from?” Tony asked.
Killian picked the tablet up off the floor and flicked over to what looked like a contract. “I bought him from the U.S. Army.”
Tony’s smirk was back. “So you mean I bought him from the Army.”
Killian’s oily smile faltered. He hated being reminded that he was nothing but the business face of the company. Without Tony’s genius inventions and family fortune to back it, Advanced Ideas Mechanics would go down in flames.
So, naturally, Tony reminded him every chance he got.
“He’s AIM property now,” Killian assured. “The boys in brass got everything they could use out of him. They didn’t know what to do with him. He’s a liability. They practically paid me to take him off their hands.”
Tony crouched down to get a closer look, as if he were looking at a lizard in a pet store terrarium. “We should move him out of the country. There are laws against slavery here.”
“That’s the beauty of the deal, Stark. He’s not human.”
Tony didn’t want to turn around and see Killian’s face. Something about the thrill in his voice made his stomach drop. But there was his hand on Tony’s shoulder again, and it burned even through his wool suit, so Tony straightened then stood and turned, tugging his jacket into place as he shrugged off the hand.
“All the more reason to keep him somewhere other than my damned workshop!”
“All the more reason to keep him in the most secure location possible. I suggest you use one of the other buildings in your expansive compound for your workshop.”
Killian cocked his head to the side in the way he had that meant the conversation was over, and Tony knew he was going to have to build another facility to house their new arrival unless he wanted a fucking roommate.
He would start construction tomorrow. Until then…
“What the hell am I supposed to do with him?”
Killian smiled. He knew he had won. For now.
“Keep him drugged,” Killian suggested. “And don’t make him angry.”