Illegitimate Prodigy

This just got personal.

After having dinner with Annabelle, Tony no longer felt putting this 'monster in the sky' on the back burner was such a great idea. He played it off like he wasn't worried but in reality, he wanted to make sure there wasn't a giant red X on his back. Not only that but if there was a target on him, that meant there was one on everyone he remotely cared about.

Pulling to a stop in the parking garage below the Avengers tower, he stared ahead into the gloomy grey room. He was focused on what his plan was next, what research he had to do to in order to corner this masked villain. Check inventory in other warehouses, check any reported missing tech stolen... "Tony?" The quiet, humble voice that came from the passenger seat broke his concentration, and his brown eyes turned to meet it's gaze. At first he was imagining her younger self sitting in the seat next to him. She was wearing her ballet outfit that she was wearing the last night he saw her when she was five years old. It was around the same time that he ran off with Whitney Frost--the only woman other than Pepper that managed to get under his skin-- and wasn't able to get her out. 

Eyelids fluttering, he snapped back into real world, finding Belle staring at him contently. "Yes, dear?" The words came out through a sigh, his hands leaving the steering wheel to fall gently to each knee.  He found it odd that she hadn't called him dad yet. Occasionally the sarcastic, 'FATHER,' came out to get his attention, but it was never genuine. Not that he really wanted her to--or wanted to make her feel like she had to. Tony lacked fatherly traits---never intended to have children in the first place--mostly because if he was anything like his father....he wasn't going to be a good one. 

"Have you ever thought about hanging up your suits?" She asked, while playing with a string that had come loose at the seam of her dress. "I mean---just retiring from the whole Iron Man thing?" Jesus. She was beginning to sound like Pepper. His CEO wanted him to stop making suits all together--stop tinkering in his shop at odd hours of the day and night--and move on from it all. She wanted marriage. A family. A normal life. She knew with Tony, she would never get it. He yearned for an alternate life where he could give it to her, he really did. Was Annabelle seeking that? Normalcy?

"I don't want to stop," Tony said unsparingly.  "The suits--are like my-"

"Children?" The word came of Annabelle's mouth low--almost defeated. It stopped Tony momentarily from speaking, attempting to avoid saying the wrong thing. Steering clear of any hurt feelings. His lips parted...speechlessly beaming at her to find his next words. 

"You know what...forget it," she grabbed her purse at her feet. "I'm..I'm sorry, I asked." Grabbing the handle, she propped open the door, lifting herself from the interior of the car. 

"Annabelle." Tony spoke too late--she shut the door behind her. Biting his bottom lip, he let his knuckles give a small punch to the steering wheel. He let his daughter get a head start to the elevator, prior to letting himself make his way up to his shop, because thats what he did best. Ignore what was wrong--and only fix what he could. Which was machines that had no feelings--no guilt, remorse or anger. Nor did they resent him. 

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"F.R.I.D.A.Y., give me reports on any stolen tech in the last six months." He spun around quickly on an office chair that sat in front of a large screen that was projected in front of him. "There were reports of parts of Chitauri technology missing from Inventory four months ago--however later marked 'unusable, disposed.'" Hand lifting to his face, he rubbed his beard gingerly. "Who would be looking to steal that..." he whispered. "Better yet, who would know to steal it." Eyes squeezing shut momentarily to think, it was interrupted when he heard ringing. Opening his eyes, he saw Peter Parker's picture in front of him. "Peter Parker is calling. He never calls," FRIDAY's Irish accent rang in with slight sarcasm. Tony shook his head, waving him arm with on quick movement, answering the telephone call. "What do you need, Peter?" 

The teenager spoke softly through the phone, his voice muffled, obviously in his suit. "I followed him. I followed the bird-man!" His excitement didn't go unnoticed, but Tony immediately felt his blood begin to boil. "What are you doing followin--" 

"It's weird though, I followed him to Scarsdale. Went into some random old house." Scarsdale...Scarsdale. Why did that sound so--"Oh Shit," Tony said, immediately standing up from his chair. "Peter get in that house, follow him in. I'll be right there."

"What? Why?" The teenager protested on the other line. 

"Just do it!" Tony quickly stepped to his right, his feet placed into two circles on the floor. "FRIDAY, suit me up." As soon as the words were spoken, Mark XLVII engulfed Tony completely and without a second in between he was already flying through the hole that opened up into the ceiling. 

"Come on...Come On..." He yelled to himself, weaving between building after building.

"Ten minutes to destination." FRIDAY's voice echoed in the suit.  

Tony didn't pay attention to Suburbs. Mostly because he didn't really fit into suburbs. Families, children, ice cream trucks and white picket fences----the American dream. The only suburb he did follow was Scarsdale avidly in the last 23 years. Why? 

It was Annabelle's hometown. Where she went to school, where she did ballet--and most importantly--where she was raised by her mother and grandfather. The flying Monster wasn't after just new tech, he was after Tony, and just like every other villain?? He was going after his foundation. His legacy. His daughter.