Hammer's Payback - Iron Man Fan Fiction (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Chapter 4

Hammer was excited about his impending jailbreak for the rest of the day. He started planning how he'd get to Potts and what he'd say to Stark when he got the chance.

However, after a dinner of pig slop and his evening abuse session, followed by sleeping on the thin piece of foam they called a bed, everything got a little fuzzy. He dreamed of Stark planting a pie in his face and the pie filling was bubble gum. Ivan Vanko and clay-mation fudgesicles taunted him in broken English while Amar kept flying by in the Gulfstream G5 with his head out the cockpit window, like some dog on a joyride. It was entirely possible what he recalled from the day before was actually just part of that crazy dream he had.

It was also entirely possible he was going insane. However, since he had nothing better to do, he indulged his fantasy and planned Stark's demise. If Amar was real, he—or perhaps his bosses, whoever they were—would not be happy if he didn't have that list ready. Hammer wanted to believe the breakout could be imminent, so nearly every waking moment was devoted to plotting his revenge.

The deliciousness of his mental activity distracted him a bit too much, and he wasn't as careful in the dining hall as he should have been. He normally sat with one of his "protectors". They liked to show off their "toys" the way Hammer used to show off his clothes, cars, and whatever hot chick he could land a date with.

Deep in thought, he chose his dinner table absently. He realized his mistake too late and it earned him several punches in the face. His glasses didn't break, but once they were knocked off his face, the goon who'd found a punching bag must have thought he hit the jackpot. Hammer's nose ended up bleeding and he got a black eye and a cut on the cheek. Unfortunately, this was not enough to warrant a night in the relatively safe infirmary.

A jaded doctor applied a butterfly tape on the cut and gave him a bag of ice for the swelling, but then the guards escorted him back to his miserable cell and left him there to be verbally harassed and made fun of the rest of the night. With his nose and eye throbbing like a bitch, and all the taunting through the bars, he found it harder to concentrate on his kidnapping scheme, but at least he'd missed the evening "free time" which usually meant rape-the-twink.

The next day, he was much more careful to pay attention to his surroundings, kiss up to the right inmates, and steer clear of the wrong ones. The pain diminished to a mere dull ache, but that was tolerable enough to let him entertain more thoughts of revenge. Everything had to be mentally rehearsed because he couldn't afford to write anything down. The list compiling in his head was too incriminating to commit to paper, napkin, or even the back of his hand.

Just about the time he'd memorized the plan and the list to the point of boredom, he started to wonder, again, if there was any point. For all he knew, Amar Blah-Blah-Whatever was just a figment of his imagination, or worse, real, but utterly insincere. Giving him hope like that to turn around and ignore him was exactly the kind of joke he'd expect from all those idiots who laughed at his sentencing. Hope started to fade. It was actually only three days since the first meeting with Amar, but it seemed weeks now.

And then, without warning, Amar returned, bringing an associate with him. The new guy's suit wasn't Armani, but it was a step up from the "Wal-Mart special" suit Amar wore. New Guy had wavy red hair and he wore round John Lennon-ish spectacles with tinted lenses. Since Hammer had been waiting and watching, he saw them outside—behind security fencing, of course—before they entered the building.

A guard came to fetch Hammer and he did his level best to act indifferent as he was escorted to the private consultation room. Amar introduced his associate as Mark O'Dell, but it was clearly a ruse for the guards. Once the door was locked, Amar's business tone vanished. "Take all your clothes off," he ordered.