Radioactive | Bucky Barnes

IRON MAN: CHAPTER EIGHT

The narrator's voice cut through the dark room like a blade. Grainy black-and-white footage flickered across the screen, warplanes and newspaper headlines dancing against the silence of the auditorium.

Rhiley Lucia Stark slouched against the back wall, the only person in the room not dressed like they were trying to impress a senator. Her ripped jeans and faded hoodie earned her a few judgmental glances, but she didn't care. She hadn't heard from S.H.I.E.L.D. in three months and had been working for Tony Stark for two. That alone justified the coffee stains on her sleeves and the dark circles under her eyes.

"Although no such capacity to build existed..."

Her eyes drifted to the screen, just in time for the words STARK INDUSTRIES to light up the room in obnoxious gold. A sharp smile tugged at her lips.

"Howard Stark, the founder of the fledgling Stark Industries, answers his call to duty..."

There he was. Young. Charismatic. Smug as ever. Her brother. The face that haunted her dreams and laughed in her nightmares. The man who'd helped build the world—and then erased her. 

Pride mixed with bitterness twisted in her chest.

"Later, Stark's work on the Manhattan Project makes the end of the war possible..."

Rhiley couldn't help it—she smiled. Of course he did. He always was brilliant. Second only to her, obviously. Sure, the flying car project never made it off the ground, but nukes? Nailed it.

"But Howard Stark's greatest achievement would come in 1973..."

And there it was. Her smile faded into something more fragile. The screen lit up with the image of a toddler Tony Stark, messy-haired and smiling, completely unaware of the legacy—and weight—he'd inherit. Her nephew. And he had no idea who she really was.

"At seventeen, he graduated summa cum laude from MIT..."

Rhiley slipped her phone into her pocket and pushed off the wall just as a security guard beside her murmured into his earpiece. "Where's Mr. Stark?"

She glanced toward the front row—Tony's seat was empty.

Typical.

The moment they called his name to present the award, she slipped out. If he wasn't going to be there, she sure as hell wasn't staying. She'd only come because Pepper had asked her to keep an eye on him.

Las Vegas smelled like cigarette smoke, stale beer, and desperation. She navigated the casino floor like a veteran, dodging slot machines and drunks.

"Hey, pretty lady—"

"No." Rhiley barely glanced at the guy as she shoved past.

And then she heard it. That voice. Fast-talking, arrogant, absolutely full of shit.

"You think we're having a 'moment' here, but this is the logical conclusion of several mathematical truisms..."

There he was. Tony Stark in full, weaponized charm mode, explaining peptide bonding and oxytocin to a woman who looked like she was either about to faint or propose. Rhiley paused nearby, watching with a mix of amusement and exhaustion.

She caught the tail end of the science-flavored seduction, complete with a quiz warning and atomic particle metaphors. She almost admired the commitment.

"Jones," a voice said beside her. She turned to see Rhodey, hands in his pockets and expression tight. She liked Rhodey. He seemed like the only person in Tony's orbit who spoke actual English.