Illegitimate Prodigy

Guilt.

The Iron suit came to a rusty halt, the metal feet hitting the ground unskillfully. It was amazing that it didn't just topple over right there. He landed in the Carter's back yard, a rickety swingset still standing behind him and it was dimly lit from the house windows. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved that he couldn't hear anything coming from inside the home. In fact it was more like a punch in the gut.

Swiftly moving into the house, he tried to be discreet, coming in unnoticed, but his iron soles pounded on the kitchen floor like a ton of bricks with each step.

"Mr.Stark?! Is that you?" He heard the familiar teens voice cry out from the living room. Pushing through the swinging kitchen door, he was met with a hallway to the front door. To his left a dining room that was completely destroyed--the table broken in half down the middle, the glass and plates from the china cabinet were shattered and were dispersed all over the floor. Stark's eyes widened and he could feel his pulse begin to rise. This wasn't good.

"Mr.Stark?" Quickly shifting to face the living room, he didn't even look at Peter, he just saw Annabelle's grandfather laying on his back on the floor. Releasing himself from the interior of his suit, he ungracefully stumbled toward Robert's unconscious body.

"What happened?" His voice was low, and his knee bent until he was on the floor. His brown eyes fixated on every detail of the older man's face, recollecting the last time he saw him. It was Elizabeth's funeral--the day that Annabelle became aware that Tony knew she was his daughter. This man had so much disdain for everything Tony was and is. It didn't matter if he was the father of his granddaughter--or that he once had some sort of feelings for his daughter.

Peter knelt down next to Tony, his suit dusty and cut on his forehead--obviously from some kind of altercation with the villain. "When I managed to get in, that thing was throwing him around like a rag doll," he said, shaking his head. "He kept saying 'Where is she?!', over and over again. I tried to intervene, but he...he..threw me." Tony still hadn't looked up, his hand lifting to rest on Robert's chest.

"Who do you think he was trying to find?" Peter asked, but Tony just swallowed dryly. There was a long pause, but then he finally looked up the teenager was waiting for any answers he might have. Left hand patting his left pocket, he quickly pulled out his Stark phone, pressing the emergency button. A button he never thought he would ever have to use. "Get out of here, Peter. They can't know you were here."

"What about you? They are gonna wanna know why you are here, too."

"Well, that will be easy when I tell them he's my daughter's grandfather."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Fingertips gripping a magazine, flipping quickly through the pages, Tony would occasionally look up to glance at his ex-father-in-law. His brain waves were showing minimal activity, his chest rose and fell, but only with the help of a machine. He was practically dead. Robert Carter had always been so resilient--a take shit from no one kind of guy-- but this. This person that chose to come into his house and beat him to a bloody pulp, looking for Annabelle no less? May have killed him.

Tony couldn't help but think of the what ifs. The possibility that Annabelle never moved to the city, and moved in with her grandfather instead. A circumstance where she was home--and killed by a masked monster. Eyes squeezing shut, he rubbed his forehead gently.

Quick footsteps broke him from his thought and he looked up to see his daughter pacing in a panic. She immediately met his side, her small hands intertwining between her grandfather's nearly lifeless fingertips. "What happened?" She whispered, a sniffle coming through after the fact.

"Annabelle." Tony said, pushing himself up off the chair he was sitting in. 

"What happened?" She repeated.

"There was an accident."

"Accident would imply there is no one else to blame." Her voice became louder, her teary dark eyes scanning up to meet his. "The person that attacked him was---not normal."

Averting his eyes, he let out an audible sigh. He was trying to search his mind for something to say--anything to say to avoid telling her that this man was really trying to find her. Not only that, but that HE was the reason for any attack at all.

"Dad."

It was quiet--but she said it. She acknowledged he was her father. It threw him off guard, meeting her calm, but clearly upset face. "The Vulture," he said softly. "The man with the mask--that you saw in my shop? He--he did this."

Annabelle's features twisted from being sad to angry within seconds that he spoke. "What--?! Why...? What does grandpa have to do with this?"

"Annabelle." Tony tried saying her name again, sternly this time, in hopes that she would calm her down.

"Dad!" She nearly screamed at him. Two quick steps, and Tony was directly in front of her. His hands met her shoulders, turning her body to face him.

"He doesn't have anything to do with it. You do." It was clear she wanted to speak, but when her lips parted, no words fell. "This--man. Whoever he is, is after me. I don't know why--I'm determined to find out..." He let his hands fall from her shoulders back to his sides. "He's trying to.... destroy me. Taking out everything that matters."

"Which means, Happy, Pepper...RHODEY..." he exclaimed, his eyes scanning his daughters features--hoping--HOPING she wouldn't be angry with him. "You."