I'm Iron Man, And I'm Agent Coulson

Chapter 8 Love and Gulmira

I grabbed the nearest waiting cab and tried to keep up with Tony's Audi, "head to 10880 Malibu Pointe, please," I ordered quickly, handing the driver my credit card, "and if you get there quickly, I'll pay you extra."
"Yes ma'am," the driver replied excitedly and floored the gas pedal.

I leaned against the leather seat, trying to go through the information I had on hand, while my unease saturated the cab.
I hated Stane, but could Obidiah be the one selling under the table?
By the look on his face, and my gut, the dots began to begrudgingly connect themselves. Even I noticed his nonchalance after Tony was kidnapped, and it bothered me, but still, he wouldn't do something this drastic, or knowingly hurt Tony.
He'd been part of Tony's family for decades. Hell, he helped keep Tony grounded and pushed him forward when his parents passed away, but why, then, would Obidiah try to lock him out now, and more importantly why didn't he answer Tony when he asked if the company was dealing under the table?
Obidiah, wouldn't do something insane like this, would he?
He was one of the richest, most powerful men in the world? What more could he possibly want, and was it more important than Tony?
Then, as I held onto the leather seat of the cab, the memory of the conversation Stane and I had months earlier, made more sense now.
The shadows, the unease which hadn't left, all of it made sense. Stane was behind this, his actions alone spoke to it. Obidiah's lack of worry and the under lining threat in his voice forced me to believe he played some part in this bigger picture opening up in front us.
I'd met some shitty people in my near thirty years, but Stane always stood out as a man I couldn't trust, nor put much faith in. My worries though, which I made prevalent to Tony and Pep, fell on deaf ears, and it was too late to change it now, but that didn't mean I wouldn't stop him.

"Ma'am, there's a gate blocking the rest of the way?" The cab driver uttered, breaking me out of my reverie.
"It's okay, I have the code, thank you, give yourself a generous tip," I yelled grabbing my card, heels and running towards Tony's Malibu home.

"JARVIS, is Tony here?" I asked, opening the gate with my code.
"Yes ma'am, and he seems a bit morose," JARVIS stated, "and I'd be careful.."
"What? Why?" I muttered, and jogged to the doors and pushed them open, already noting the goosebumps, and rush of worry sitting in my chest, "where is he?" I asked, looking around the dark ground floor of the living room.
"He is in his private sitting room, next to the lab," JARVIS replied, lighting the way downstairs, "uh, watch your step.."
"Tony!" I gasped, hearing the sound of glass and what sounded like a small range incendiary device going off. I slid down onto the floor when a shot of light passed over my head, destroying one of the overhead lights.
"What're you doing!?" He barked, as I looked around the destroyed room next to the lab. Glass and debris layed everywhere, all leading up to the mechanism sitting tightly on Tony's outstretched hand.
"What am I doing?! You fucken asshole, are you insane?!" I gasped, and stumbled to my feet, while he collapsed against the couch, and closed his eyes.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins, but I unsteadily hopped over broken glass, and walked into the room, coming down from the flash of fight or flight.
It took me seconds to come to the realization the suit he'd been secretly working on was finished, and had more than just the ability to fly. It had the ability to fight, and I prepared myself for the inevitable.
The TV, a broken lamp, and his reactor, gave off the only light in the room, but it was enough to illuminate the anger and confusion on his face. The black slacks and grey tank top, he had on, were sweaty, as was his skin, and his eyes burned with anger.

"Jesus christ Tony," I mumbled, and wiped the sweat off my forehead, "um, besides my near death experience, that's, that's kinda cool," I added unsteadily, and pointed to his armor, "oh fuck me, I almost sent my knife flying."
His sad eyes met mine while a news reporter began talking about a small village named Gulmira, but a small smirk peppered his lips. I glanced towards the television and observed the pictures of countless families running for their lives as bombs went off, but walked over and turned it off. "JARVIS soft lights please," I demanded quickly, and popped my neck, hoping it alleviated the tension stifling the room.