When the light calls (Tony Stark x OC)

Broken

(Stark's P.O.V)

Tony Stark lay sprawled across his bed, staring up at the ceiling with wide, bloodshot eyes. Empty, cracked bottles of alcohol littered his bedroom floor, along with the torn up remains of the papers carrying the news of the riots.

They'd only begun a few weeks ago but the word had spread like wildfire. Everyone was talking about it. He couldn't step out in public without triggering a series of disapproving glances and angry stares. The riots were headed by groups of families who'd lost their children and relatives in the battle in New York, back when Loki attacked it. They'd parade around with oversized posters of their dead children and their bodies after they'd died. He hadn't slept through a night since he'd seen that.

I didn't mean to kill them.....why can't they just leave me alone?!

Images of his face pasted on neighbourhood walls with the word ''murderer' sprawled across it were etched deep into his mind. Sure, the others got their fair share of hatred too but Thor was a demi-god, Natasha and Banner had each other, Clint had his family and Steve didn't even belong to this goddamn time period so Stark was ultimately the one who got the worst end of the deal here, specially after Pepper left. He had no one.

I didn't do anything wrong. Why is this happening to me?

A few weeks in after the riots started he'd begun to let himself go, retreating behind the walls of his home, shutting himself off from society. If people didn't want a superhero, why should there be one?

They don't need me anymore. No one does.

Now, nearly a month had passed and he'd sunk down to level that he never thought was possible. Drinking the day away, desperately trying to drown his sorrows.

But I need them....even if they don't need me.

In his frustration, he grabbed the bottle nearest to him, hurling it across the room and watching it shatter the way they'd shattered him.

But if they don't need me.....then why am I here?

He was reaching his breaking point. He felt so sick of everything. Sick of being treated like just some freak who needed to be put in line. He was sick of himself. Doing nothing all day. Drinking till he passed out each night. He was sick of all of it.

I need get out of this place.

He sat up in bed, but was immediately forced to lay back down by the throbbing pain in his head.

Okay well.... Maybe not right now.

(Kalek's P.O.V)

Every day was hours of panic and fear. Every night was a terrifying wait till morning. In fact, I barely recognised what day and night were. All I knew was there was a certain time period, during which I'd be left alone. The machines would disappear. The ground would stop shaking. And they, would leave.

At first, they only worked with one machine, continuously impaling me with arrow after arrow. But everytime an arrow tore through me, the faster I'd heal. Soon I was able to patch up even while running from them. The pain of the healing process become more bearable each time I went through it, or maybe it was just that the pain grew on me. A few days in, I began to notice the machine's weak points. One that I'd continuously exploit, was its ability to only attack from the front, so as long as I stayed behind it,I was safe.

A few weeks in, I began to notice that regenerating wasn't my only strength. With every passing day, my strength and stamina grew. Every day it would take longer for them to tire me out. But my most valuable asset was yet to come.