Peachy Keen

Chapter 2

By the time the hospital released him, Tony was old news. He'd let his beard grow out while he was
recovering, and after the initial itchiness, he'd grown used to the way he looked in the mirror. No
more touching up the gray. No more Tom Ford suits. No more lifts in his shoes. No more sunglasses
indoors. Tony Stark had been a publicity creation, the face of Stark Industries, the bad boy, the
drunkard who somehow by accident managed to turn his father's company into a global
conglomerate and just stumbled over innovation. Yeah, sure, he drank too much and he enjoyed sex
with willing partners, and he stupidly trusted the wrong people.

But he'd never screwed up his actual job. He liked to work. He never felt more alive than when he
was creating something entirely new. Now he was just a guy, walking away from the ambulance that
dropped him off in the first nearly empty street they passed. Even in Manhattan the streets were quiet
at daybreak.

He walked until he reached a subway stop, and then descended into the depths. No one looked twice
at him. He was just another guy in off-duty hospital scrubs. He hadn't been on the subway in years,
and even then it was a prank, to see people's reactions when they recognized him. He held onto a
pole and swayed to the rhythm of the train. It was dirty and smelly, and none of the people around
him had ever owned a Fortune 500 business.

None of them knew what was coming. They were his people, the real people, the ones Rogers had
treated as unfortunate collateral damage. Rogers had scolded Tony for being upset by Coulson's
death. 'Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?' But soldiers at least know going in that they're
risking their lives. Barnes was a soldier, and Rogers sure as shit valued his life above all others.

These people... Tony can't help them. He can't. He has to remember that, he's just a guy. No one
wants his help. He just has to find himself a job and get on with his own life.

Tony had never looked for a job. He had no idea where to start. Hell, he didn't even remember his
social security number, not that he could look for work under his own identity. Possibly he should
have put more thought into the ME aspect of Protocol Pass the Torch, set up a new identity, hide
cash caches around the world.

He eventually found a quiet alcove in Central Park with a good view of Belvedere Castle. The castle
made him think of royalty. Why not call King T'Challa? His country was highly technological, and
still isolated from the world. Tony could work there in secret, and T'Challa might actually listen
when Tony warned him about the threat to the Earth. Yeah, with King Kittycat's resources, Tony
might actually be able to do some good, anonymously, of course.

He woke up his phone. "Fry, baby, can you connect me with King T'Challa in Wakanda?" Tony
found a smooth rock to sit on. There were dragonflies skipping the surface of the Turtle Pond.
Slanting sunlight brought out their colors, red and brownish gold, like streamlined miniature Iron
Men. Tony was prepared to wait, or to be passed on to one of the people who screened T'Challa's
calls to avoid wasting his time, but there was a click almost immediately, and T'Challa's face
appeared on the screen.

"Stark. There have been rumors about your demise. I am pleased to find them without foundation."

Tony gave T'Challa a smile. "Slightly exaggerated, your Majesty, but I couldn't call them unfounded.

As far as the world knows, I'm dead, and I need to stay dead."

"So. I take it this is not a social call?"

"Not so much, no. I know Wakanda's been isolated from the world, but you're still part of it. There's
a danger coming for the entire Earth. I saw it, T'Challa. You need to prepare for it. And... I could
help. I just need a place to work in secret, and tools. I know no one trusts me since Ultron, so you
can place any restrictions you see fit, claim anything I come up with, I don't care."