Shadowplay | Tony Stark

THIRTY SIX - BEG

"I want to stay with you, Daddy!"

"It's alright buddy, Clint will take care of you. You don't have to be afraid."

The way Mila leapt up from the corner of the room was perhaps the fastest she'd ever moved. She'd learned to react fast after becoming a mother, having to catch Tristan before he fell off the couch or grab him before he walked toddled straight into the corner of a cabinet, but never had she responded as quickly to the sound of his voice as she did then.

However, so did Logan. He turned on his heels and pulled out a handgun, pointing it at her with narrowed eyes and a cold stare, lips pulled into a thin line set on a tense jaw.

The voices were coming from outside the door, the beating of Mila's heart only increasing more as she heard her son talk, his words drawing fresh salt into her eyes.

She stood still while Logan moved towards the door, the gun still pointed directly at her as he stepped quietly with his other hand outstretched, carefully sliding the bolt across the lock and pulling the door open.

The sound of a metal bolt grinding against steel made Tony stop dead in his tracks. Clint was approaching from down the hallway, his footsteps growing louder until the screech of a heavy door opening drowned out anything else within earshot.

Tony had never moved as fast as he did when he met the cold eyes of Logan. He instantly placed Tristan down on the floor behind him and activated a shield, his mask covering his face and an icy blue light glowing over his eyes.

"Give me my son."

Tony stayed still, holding the shield at the side of his right thigh, feeling the presence of Tristan's small hands clutching the iron that plated his body.

"Tony! I'm here."

Clint came running down the hallway a few seconds later, all pairs of eyes turning to look at him. He had an arrow drawn in a poised bow, just incase, and kept his arms rigid when he stumbled across the scene.

"Barton, take him." Tony said, nodding once at Clint who immediately took a step closer to the child.

"Ah," Logan interrupted, holding up his hand, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Tony thought he'd reached the pinnacle of anger a human was capable of feeling earlier that day after finding Tristan locked in the other room, however he had been monumentally wrong.

As Logan kicked the door he was holding open a little wider with his heel, Tony felt every feeling inside of him multiply. He felt his blood run hotter, his bones tense harder and his heart pump faster, his brain racing at a million miles per hour but only drawing one dark though into the front of his mind: murder.

Tony should've felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces when his eyes landed on Mila and the outline of a hand on her cheek, the gun pointed at her face, and it would, just not in that moment. Tony knew he couldn't afford to be weak, to be gentle, to console at that time, very aware of the harsh reality that feelings always came second to rationality in those circumstances.

Still, the sight cut him like a knife. The pain in Mila's green eyes made him feel like he couldn't breathe, the mark on her skin made him feel like he couldn't see straight, but the quiver of her bottom lip when she saw how terrified her son looked made Tony pull himself together for the sake of his family.

"Put the gun down." Tony said calmly, keeping his stance to protect Tristan.

"Come on man, just put the gun down."

Logan turned on his heels when two tiles fell from the ceiling behind him, dust powdering the air for a brief moment until it cleared, leaving behind smoking lungs, blistering eyes, and the presence of another man.