Post by Stardrifter on Jul 15, 2014 22:48:04 GMT -5
by
Stardrifter
#2 - In the Valley Below
Pepper Potts walks briskly behind her employer, Howard Stark, on their way to a meeting with military brass. A meeting that was almost cancelled by General Reynolds yesterday despite Howard's insistence they keep it. The General instead agreed to meet here at Stark Tower rather than in D.C. to at least keep Howard from having to travel during this difficult time.
Reaching a hand up, Pepper idly runs her finger over a scab on the side of her neck. One of the many minor cuts from the accident, she found this particular cut hard to leave alone. So distracted is she that Howard has to reach out and stop her from walking into the closed elevator doors.
"Pepper," Howard asks as she walks into his arm, "you all right?"
Jerking her head up to look at him, she realizes what almost happened and offers an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, Mr. Stark. I was just lost in thought."
The elevator chimes as the doors open and the two walk in. "I need you focused today. This meeting is the second to last step to securing this billion dollar contract. I can't have you distracted."
"Of course," Pepper whispers.
The elevator heads down. After a moment of awkward silence, Howard sighs. He places his hands on his hips and paces in front of her. "I know it's hard. It's not easy for me either. But there's nothing we can do. Rhodey will tell us when there's something to know. Life doesn't stop because something horrible happens. The world keeps turning and so must we. All we can do is try to focus on the task at hand and not think about things we have no control over. And nothing will happen. Tony is...they'd never do anything. He's too valuable. So don't worry. All right?"
The elevator doors open and Howard looks up to Pepper. His face is uncharacteristically concerned. She smiles politely and nods in agreement.
"Well let's go then."
After a short walk through the hallways, Howard and Pepper enter a large meeting room. A long, rectangular table sits in the center of the room. The wall on their right has a waist high window going the entire way down the room, showing a spectacular view of the city.
"Sorry I'm late," Howard announces to the room, interrupting a conversation already underway. "Business."
In truth he was neither sorry nor on business, but instead employing the age old tactic of flexing his power by making others wait for him. General Reynolds, a crusty old man with silver hair on the sides and back of his head, stands up and grumbles in response.
"It's no problem, Howard," a bald man in a black and gray suit smiles. He leans back in his chair and strokes his salt and pepper beard. "The General was just telling me how concerned he is about Tony."
"Yes," General Reynolds replies in a gravely voice. "I've heard there hasn't been much luck yet. Frankly I was surprised when you didn't postpone this meeting."
"Well as I was just telling my assistant, life goes on," Howard smiles as he sits down at the head of the table. Pepper takes a seat next to him, already taking notes. "Colonel Rhodes has half of SHIELD looking for my son. It's only a matter of time before he's back and those responsible are brought to justice."
"Well my prayers are with him," General Reynolds offers before turning to business. "Obadiah here was just telling me that the Jericho Project is ready for field testing?"
"We have three prototypes ready and a fourth in production," Obadiah Stane says, sitting back up straight as the conversation returns to business. "All we need now is to pick a time and place."
"And I'm keen to do so. The President himself has a vested interest in this project and a firm faith in Stark Industries."
Howard voices the General's unspoken word, "But?"
"But I'm not certain about this 'repulsorlift' technology. A little bird told me that you've had mixed results. That Ultratech's been nipping at your heels for this contract and you're worried."
Howard's face turns red, but he keeps his voice calm and even. "Ultratech is a Frankenstein's monster of failed start ups and shoddy tech. They've been in the weapons business for what? Ten years? Stark Industries has been supplying weapons for the U.S. since World War II!"
"Which is why we're moving forward," General Reynolds replies, unmoved by Howard's objections. "But times are changing. Ultratech. Hammer Industries. You're no longer dominating the weapons business. One slip up and it's blood in the water."
General Reynolds stands up suddenly. Howard and Obadiah follow suit. "Have your people set up a time with my people. I look forward to your demonstration."
"Of course," Howard smiles and shakes the General's hand. "My assistant can show you the way out."
"I know the way," General Reynolds smiles. "Until next time, Obadiah."
Once the General leaves, Howard turns back to Obadiah. "Ultratech? Hammer Industries? What's going on? At every stage he's been behind this one hundred percent!"
"I don't know," Obadiah shouts back, slamming his fist down on the table. "I've heard rumor that Justin Hammer's lobbyists have been throwing their weight around lately. Maybe even gotten to Senator Freeman."
Placing a hand over his forehead, Howard slumps back down in his chair. "And what have our people been doing? Offering candy and love letters?"
Without looking at Howard, Obadiah replies, "Freeman is partial to Reese's Pieces."
Howard drops his hand in his lap and stares at Obadiah. The two men look at each other, stony faced, until finally Obadiah cracks. His laughter soon breaks Howard's demeanor, and the two friends are unable to stop laughing for some time. Even Pepper joins in.
"Honestly though," Obadiah says after catching his breath. "What are you doing here? I could have handled this. If it was Zeke out there..."
"I know," Howard interrupts, putting a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "Honestly had this not happened I probably would have let you handle it. But I'm the CEO. I can't show a moment's weakness. You know that."
"Well now that you've shown how not weak you are, why don't you go take a break and let me handle things. That's what I'm here for. For God's sake, at least give Pepper here a day off!" Obadiah reaches over and takes Pepper's hand. "How are you doing, honey?"
"I'm okay," Pepper smiles bravely, though secretly is glad for the comfort. Without wanting to appear unwilling to work, she crosses her fingers that Howard might listen to him.
"Fine, fine." Howard backs his chair up and stands. He loosens the tie around his neck and places a hand on Pepper's shoulder. "You're right. I've been so wrapped up, I...take the day off Pepper. Or the week. Whatever you need. I think I might do the same."
"Thanks, Mr. Stark." Pepper gathers her things and goes to leave. Before she goes she turns back. "If you need anything..."
"Of course."
Howard pulls out his phone to check his messages. He starts to head for the door, but once Pepper is through it, Obadiah clears his throat.
"Howard, we have another problem."
The trek through the Chinese wilderness is long and grueling. At least Tony assumes it's China. No one offers a solid answer or answers of any kind. The only amiable person of the bunch, Ho Yinsen, is kept far away toward the front of the line. Tony is kept in the middle, guarded on every side.
It's now midday and the sun is sweltering. The company has been marching since dawn at a brutal pace with little rest. Tony is by no means unfit, but he does spend more of his time on studying and building science projects. He isn't cut out for this.
Not that he's given any choice. Every time he starts to slow down, a soldier hits him in the back with the butt of his rifle. His pleas for rest fall on deaf ears, though his pleas for water are usually answered.
Despite the horrible conditions, Tony has made a point to use the time to learn. His captors number no more than thirty, a mix of mostly untrained men and women and two officers. The officers are the only ones in uniform. They hold themselves with a composure and authority only developed through hard military discipline. Defectors most likely.
The others are more interesting. They appear to come from many different backgrounds. Their dress ranges from simple, tattered clothing to expensive brand names. There's a wide range of age and appearance, from old and withered to young and attractive. Whoever this Mandarin is, he attracts a variety of followers.
Shortly after noon, the company comes to a brief halt at a ridge line. The lead officer shouts some orders in Chinese. After a few moments, much to Tony's surprise, soldiers he hadn't noticed before emerge from the wilderness to greet them. More words are exchanged and, finally, the company continues over the ridge.
When Tony reaches the ridge the sight before him leaves him breathless. A large valley lies below, with incredibly high walls. The valley is covered with all manner of plant life. In the center stands a large temple made of stone, at least the size of a football stadium. Surrounding it are a large number of smaller buildings. It looks like an army base, complete with a tiny helicopter airfield.
"Welcome to the Valley of Spirits," one of the guards snidely remarks before shoving Tony forward.
Tony groans at the prospect of marching toward the compound. It looks like it would be nightfall before they could finish the journey. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, once they reach a nearby clearing, the two officers pull Tony aside and call for a helicopter. As they lift off into the air, Ho Yinsen offers a weak smile in a vain attempt at comfort.
The officers continue their refusal to answer his questions, so Tony rides in silence, making a mental map of the compound as they fly over.
Once they touch down, more officers run up and drag Tony into a nearby building. Inside he's stripped, cleaned up, and dressed in a plain cotton shirt and pants. When they're satisfied with his appearance, Tony is brought to the temple.
Despite the simple, military style of the compound, the temple itself is opulent. Large columns support vast rooms filled with ancient treasures. All manner of art and antiques decorate the temple, both of Chinese make and others. Tony takes note that, despite the incredible age of most of these objects, the temple itself is very modern and clean. Clearly built within the last century.
When they finally reach the gigantic doors to what Tony can only assume is a throne room, they waste no time. Without so much as a knock, the doors are opened and Tony is ushered inside. He walks down a large red carpet towards the throne. Sitting there, on a golden throne shaped like some sort of dragon, is the Mandarin.
He isn't quite what Tony expected. A young man, no more than thirty, he has his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. A thin black goatee surrounds his frowning mouth. He wears no crown or elaborate jewelry, only a long black robe with a red sash around his waste. His hands are hidden in his sleeves.
"So I take it you're the Mandarin I've heard so little about?" Tony shouts as they walk toward the throne. The officers escorting him and the other servants in the court all act shocked and mumble their objections, but the Mandarin himself only smirks. "I don't suppose I could borrow a computer? I've got to post this on Twitter."
"As irreverent as I've heard, Mr. Stark." The Mandarin's voice booms unnaturally throughout the room. "Ever the witty remark. The snappy comeback. It belies your true intelligence."
"Well I have had a long time to come up with what to open with," Tony smiles with false self confidence. "You only get one chance for a first impression."
"You've already made quite the impression, even before I met you," the Mandarin says as he stands up and walks forward. His arms now at his sides, Tony notices the golden rings on each of his fingers and thumbs, each with a different colored jewel. The Mandarin follows his gaze, but only smiles before continuing. "Graduating high school at the age of twelve. The youngest student in the history of MIT. A genius in science and technology."
"Can I get this in writing for the forward to my autobiography?" Tony quips.
The Mandarin paces around Tony, ignoring the remark. He leans in briefly to say in Tony's ear, "So young, and already so much wasted potential."
Tony's face contorts in confusion and, surprisingly to him, offense. He quickly composes himself before saying, "Well not all of us can have a personal army build us a temple. I could probably have it done by eighteen though."
Faster than Tony can see, the Mandarin reaches out and slaps him with the back of his hand. Tony reaches up to feel blood flowing from a cut on his eyebrow. He looks back at his captor, his mouth wide open, and the Mandarin smiles with satisfaction.
"No clever retort? Good. Like all your American peers, you like to talk and talk, but you never say anything. Maybe you can listen for a change. Learn something." When he's satisfied Tony isn't going to say anything back, he continues. "You no doubt want to know why you're here. There are a number of reasons I could give you, but it all boils down to one thing. Control.
"This world has slid farther and farther into anarchy, Mr. Stark. The powers of the world are disparate, leaderless. They bicker and argue, start wars and massacre millions, yet nothing ever really changes.
"The only way the human race can ever achieve it's greatest heights is to unite under one banner toward a common goal. The only way that can happen is if one man, with vision and determination, can bring them all together under one rule. Controlled."
Tony raises an eyebrow, no longer able to stay silent. "By you, of course. But what does that have to do with me?"
The Mandarin stops circling him and looks Tony in the eye. "Such a goal requires many things. Power. Soldiers. Alliances. All things that come when one has the single most important weapon in mankind's arsenal. Knowledge."
The Mandarin raises a hand and signals the men behind Tony. They take hold of his arms and walk with him as the Mandarin leads them out of the throne room.
"I require knowledge I do not possess. Knowledge that you yourself either have or can acquire for me."
The Mandarin leads them out of the temple and across the compound. Every man, woman, and child that they pass stops whatever they are doing to bow down to the Mandarin. He pays them no attention.
Finally they reach a large storehouse with over a dozen guards patrolling the perimeter. With a nod, the Mandarin orders his men to open the doors for them. When they move inside, Tony's jaw drops.
The building is filled with weapons. Not just any weapons, but American weapons. He sees missiles developed by Stark Industries, guns manufactured by Hammer Industries, experimental body armor created by Ultratech, and more.
In the center of the room sits a weapons system that simply cannot be here. The only reason Tony knows about it is because he learned how to break into his father's personal files when he was eight years old. Only three prototypes exist, and one is somehow in the hands of this madman.
The Mandarin smiles at the look of realization on Tony's face. "The Jericho Project. Your father's crown jewel of weapons technology."
"H-How..."
"I'm a patient man, Mr. Stark. I have spent far longer than you can imagine gathering my forces and consolidating my power. With this I will make my first strike against my enemies, but there is only one problem."
"The repulsorlift tech isn't reliable."
The Mandarin offers a satisfied nod. "Correct. I see you have been keeping well informed of your father's projects. Now the real test begins. We shall see if my first impressions of you are true. Either you finish the work your father began and make this weapon whole, or I begin sending pieces of you back to your father until he gives me the information I require."
Before Tony can even think of a response, the Mandarin turns and walks away. He calls back with one final warning. "You have one week, Mr. Stark. You'd better get started."
"Goddamn it!" Tony yells, slamming his socket wrench onto the worktable. His sudden outburst causes the guards to raise their weapons. Tony offers a sarcastic smile before going back to the missile.
It's been five hours since the Mandarin gave his ultimatum and Tony was no closer to finding any answers. In truth he found it hard to concentrate. Even if he wasn't starving and exhausted, he couldn't help thinking about how the Jericho prototype got here.
The fact that the Mandarin was stockpiling weapons from Stark Industries and other companies didn't surprise him. The weapons business was just like that. You sell to the U.S. government, the U.S. sells to other countries, other countries sell to mercenaries or the black market. It's not difficult.
Jericho is another matter. Security around prototypes like this is beyond tight. You have to sign twelve forms and pass fingerprint and retinal identification just to be in the same room with one. For one to be not only stolen, but taken half way around the world, would take someone at the very top to pull off.
A cough from one of the guards jolts Tony out of his thoughts. He realizes he's been staring down at the missile for some time. Stepping back, he reaches up to wipe the sweat off his brow. Taking a deep breath, he looks about the room and tries to clear his head.
The repulsorlift system shouldn't be this difficult. He looked over the initial plans last year and they seemed fairly simple. They keep shorting out at seemingly random times. Random. Nothing is random. What would cause...
It hits Tony like punch in the gut. Sudden, unexpected, and overwhelming. He starts to feel light headed and sinks down to one knee. He catches his breath, but seeing the guards run over to him gives him another idea, and he lets himself fall to the floor.
"Stark! Stark!" one of the guards shouts in his face, as if doing so would accomplish something.
"Is he dead?" the other asks, terrified of the prospect. "Tell me he's not dead!"
"Stark!"
Tony suppresses a frustrated groan and decides to help the guards along. "D-Doctor! I...need..."
"Doctor! Yes! Go get Yinsen!"
Tony rolls his eyes into his head and goes limp. It's a struggle, but he manages to keep the smile off his face. Stage one of Operation: Escape the Mandarin is complete.
-To Be Continued-