TONY WANDERED the desert under the oppressive heat of the Afghan sun for weeks. Or was it hours? Perhaps it was days, or years…Minutes, seconds, hours—everything was running together. The desert wind whipped at his feet and blew him every which way, like sand in a jostled hourglass.
He needed water. He needed food. He needed rest. But if he closed his eyes for a second, he might never open them again.
Tony ambled about as he attempted to keep his footing. But it was becoming more difficult to control his muscles, and the dunes’ uneven surfaces were complicating matters.
Tony began to lose his focus. In his disorientated state, the whole world seemed to be turning white. He couldn’t tell where the sand ended and the sky began, or if the shimmering he observed on the horizon was a forgiving pool of water or a cruel mirage. Above him, sound seemed to swirl like the amplified beating of vulture wings, or the hungry moan of an angel of death. As the sound grew louder, Tony could feel the wind pick up. He looked up and was sure that he saw huge dark figures soaring overhead.
Tony squinted, then he filled with hope. These were no birds or supernatural beings, they were US military choppers! Tony felt a burst of adrenaline. He began to jump up and down, waving his arms furiously, acutely aware that this could be his only chance to be rescued.
The whirlybirds banked and swooped back toward Tony, who broke down in hysterical laughter, delirious from the heat and fatigue. The copters landed and a dozen soldiers rushed out. They held their weapons at the ready, but they began to drop them as they drew closer to Tony. He collapsed onto his knees at the sight of his close friend James “Rhodey” Rhodes, who was an officer with the US Air Force.
“Next time, you ride with me, okay?” Rhodey said.
Tony grinned, only half conscious, and Rhodey pulled him close, happy to see his friend alive.
It was a long ride back. On the way, Rhodey helped Tony rehydrate and cleaned him up a bit. Once they arrived at base, Tony was fully examined and sutured up. Rhodey had known well enough to have one of Tony’s tailored suits ready for him, and Tony shaved and made himself look as dapper as he could. Even beat up and bruised, Tony looked every bit the billionaire playboy he was. It was just his way.
Rhodey helped him to into a wheelchair and they boarded an Air Force jet for their long journey home. Tony mostly slept on the flight. After months in captivity and who-knows-how-long wandering the desert, the voyage didn’t seem all that terrible. When the jet landed and the gangplank descended, Tony was even able to step up from his chair, supported by Rhodey. As the two men walked slowly down the gangway, a medic approached them with a stretcher.
“Are you kidding me with this? Get rid of it,” Tony said dismissively.
Crowds of military personnel below were awaiting his arrival, but Tony locked eyes on the one person besides Rhodey that he had actually been concerned about never seeing again.
“Hm. Your eyes are red,” he said as he approached the woman, who with her suit, pulled-back hair, and made-up face looked as out of place as Tony on the airfield. “A few tears for your long-lost boss?”
“Tears of joy,” Pepper Potts joked. “I hate job-hunting.”
“Yeah, vacation’s over,” Tony said.
The two of them entered a waiting car.
“Where to, sir?” The driver asked.
“Take us to the hospital please,” Pepper responded to Tony’s driver, “Happy” Hogan.
“No.” Tony cut her off.
“No? You have to go to the hospital; you have to see a doctor; the doctor needs to look at you.…”
“‘No’ is a complete answer. I don’t have to do anything.…I’ve been in captivity for three months, there are a few things I want. Two. One, I want an American cheeseburger, and the other is I want you to call for a press conference now.”
“Call for a press conference? What on earth for?” Pepper asked, still arguing with her boss.
“Hogan, drive. Cheeseburger first,” Tony demanded.
* * *
After a quick stop at a burger joint, Tony’s car wheeled up to Stark Industries headquarters. The roar of applause from his staff was deafening as Tony stepped from his vehicle. And one man, Tony’s second-in-command, Obadiah Stane, ran to Tony and embraced him.
“Hey, hey! Look who’s here!” Obadiah said joyfully, hugging Tony tight. He ushered Tony past cheering crowds of Stark employees and hoards of media and press.
Pepper Potts looked on, relieved to have Tony back in mostly one piece. She smiled as camera bulbs flashed and members of the press swarmed around her boss.
Almost unseen, a suited man approached and stepped up beside her.
“Ms. Potts?”
“Yes,” Pepper replied.
“Can I speak to you for a moment?”
“I’m not part of the press conference, but it’s about to begin right now.”
He handed her his credentials. “I’m not a reporter. I’m agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”
“That’s quite a mouthful.”
“I know, we’re working on it.…”
“You know, we’ve been approached already by the DOD, the FBI, the CIA…”
“We’re a separate division with a more specific focus. We need to debrief Mr. Stark about the circumstances of his escape.”
“I’ll put something on the books, shall I?”
“Thank you,” Agent Coulson said, then he stepped away as Obadiah Stane took the podium.
Tony sat with his back against the front of the podium. He unwrapped his cheeseburger.
“Hey, would it be all right if everyone sat down?”
The gathered crowd looked around at the chairless room.
“Just sit down. That way, you can see me and I can…It’s a little less formal.…”
Obadiah stepped out from behind the podium and sat down on the stage next to Tony.
“Good to see you,” Tony said to Stane, who smiled back broadly.
“What’s up with the love-in?” Rhodey whispered to Pepper.
“Don’t ask me, I don’t know what he’s up to,” Pepper responded.
Tony turned to the audience and began his press conference.
“I never got to say good-bye to my father. I never got to ask him about what this company did. If he was ever conflicted, if he ever had doubts. Or maybe he was every inch the man we all remember from the newsreels.
“I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them. And I saw that I had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero accountability.”
Obadiah glared at Tony, and the audience, which Tony had clearly made uncomfortable with his frankness, began to cautiously ask questions.
“What happened over there?” a young reporter asked.
“I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I have more to offer this world than just making things to blow up, and that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons-manufacturing division of Stark Industries…”
The room exploded in an uproar of gasps and questions. Obadiah stepped up to the podium, smiling as broadly as he had since Tony arrived home. Pepper and Rhodey looked on slack-jawed as Tony, now standing as well, was swarmed by reporters.
Obadiah attempted to usher Tony off the stage, but Tony persisted. “Until such a time as I can decide what the future of this company should be, what direction it should take, one that I’m comfortable with and is consistent with the highest good for this country as well.”
Tony stepped off the stage and out of the room, and Obadiah quickly grabbed the microphone, still wearing his broad smile but scrambling for a way to manage the situation.
“Okay!” Obadiah began. “What we should take from this is that Tony’s back! And he’s healthier than ever. We’re going to have a little, um, internal discussion, and we’ll get back to you with a follow-up.”