21. Chapter

The sun rose behind the Iron Maiden armor, casting her in a halo. The birds sang an ode. Flying projectiles transformed in mid-air into fireworks and rose petals. Bounty hunters and slavers alike dropped their weapons to chorus in three-part harmony. Peace reigned and the world righted itself for the reunion of father and daughter.

Yeah, no.

That definitely was not the way things went. At all. Especially since they were still indoors.

The first thing that Tony noticed was that FRIDAY was fuming. The glowing eye slits on the suit's mask might as well be spitting sparks as FRIDAY glared. A bounty hunter that appeared to glance down the hole FRIDAY created quickly retreated, hands held up. Fett, the traitor that he was, casually took a step away from Tony.

Friday . Tony mouthed her name, unspeakably glad to see his girl despite her obvious anger. Before he could gather the brain cells to actually say the words, FRIDAY was talking again.

"Why are you here?" FRIDAY asked bluntly. As Tony opened his mouth, FRIDAY added another question. "And does he know? If he doesn't, don't answer me verbally."

At that, Tony's mouth snapped shut, because Fett was still under the impression that FRIDAY was 'a little girl.' For the first time, he realized that FRIDAY had been speaking to him through his earpiece since her dramatic entrance.

The Iron Maiden's chin lifted. "I see."

"Are you affiliated with Iron Man?" Fett asked, blaster pointed at the ground. He pointedly turned his head to look at Tony.

"Yes," a robotic female voice resonated from the armor.

Fett waited, yet there was no more answers on the way. Realizing this, something in the Mandalorian's eyes hardened. "Go on," Fett said dismissively in a way that made Tony think that coming clean would have been a better choice. "There are slavers. Blast them. It is your objective, isn't it?" He walked past armor. "Coming, Stark?"

"Right." Tony shook off… well, basically the last minute or so and plopped down on the rubble. He could feel Iron Maiden's sensors focus on him as he tugged on the shrapnel embedded in his leg. Tony hissed and let go as pain lit up his nerves. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and put his hand back on the metal, ready to try again. A pink gauntlet stopped him. Tony looked up at Iron Maiden's expressionless mask as FRIDAY directed the armor to hold Tony's knee with one hand and grasp the shrapnel with the other. Tony braced himself, screwed his eyes shut, and gave a nod. Iron Maiden yanked out the metal, smeared bacta on the wound, and wrapped his leg. "Thank you," Tony gritted out as soon as he could talk. He was given a curt nod before FRIDAY activated the thrusters and flew up.

Testing his leg and deciding that it was probably okay for him to walk, Tony used the rubble to climb out through the hole FRIDAY created and standing on the roof. He was hyperaware of the pink armor next to him, following the sensors and mask of Iron Maiden to where Iron Man was almost mechanically mowing down the hostiles by the dozens, about ten or fifteen blocks away. MONDAY was doing a good job, especially considering the fact that she was literally minutes old and that it was her first fight.

"I am Iron Man's co-pilot. Not her." In a smooth motion, Iron Maiden launched forward, blasting off towards Iron Man. That same moment, Iron Man wobbled dangerously in the air for a moment, before dropping in altitude. To all others watching, it seemed that Iron Man plummeted like a stone. Only Tony, with his enhanced vision, could see the minute twitches the suit made. Tony opened his mouth to scream, shout, or do something.

As suddenly as it started, it ended. Iron Man swooped up to meet his pink-colored counterpart and they spiraled around each other. In sync, the duo began eliminating their opponents without mercy. It was as if that episode never happened. The only true difference was the skill level of Iron Man. Mechanical before, Iron Man's motions were now fluid in a way that spoke of experience and natural talent. Tony closed his mouth. FRIDAY was the more experienced AI at piloting the suit, after all. It was only logical that she took control.

A shot flew past, inches from Tony's nose, shocking him from his thoughts. Tony followed its path as it unerringly struck a figure on an adjacent rooftop, one that had his own blaster aimed at Tony. He looked on his other side to see Fett hoister his blaster.

"You did that on purpose," Tony accused, rubbing his nose. The Mandalorian merely raised an eyebrow. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony muttered, "Fine. I'll tell you after this." He put more weight on his injured leg and was rewarded with unpleasant tingling.

"No more secrets."

"If I give up all my secrets, you have to give up yours, capisce?"

Fett stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head, looking away. He took off running along the roof, leaping to land on the roof of the next building over. Tony shook his head at the Mandalorian's stubbornness, running after him. As he drew level with Fett, Tony presented his counteroffer.

"Fine, how about this - you explain why you were following us and I explain why Iron Man and his lovely companion is following me," Tony offered. FRIDAY, who was listening in on the conversation, gave a huff at the flattery.

Fett shot two figures emerging out of a window before he answered. "Agreed," Fett said simply. They ran past, not sparing the motionless bodies a second glance. Fett jumped on the window ledge and used the grooves to pull himself up to a higher roof. Tony took the easier route of magnetizing his shoes to the metal walls to climb.

"And I'll make you some armor so you can kick some serious a**," Tony added, not above pressing his luck.

To his surprise, the other bounty hunter did not immediately protest, instead following the armors with his eyes. Even as he shot at two KSC members who were cornering one of Paramexor's men, Tony watched as Iron Maiden began blasting all the KSC slavers that came near her with extreme prejudice. Even Fett seemed impressed - Tony caught him giving the pink-and-gold suit an admiring glance as FRIDAY guided it into a graceful spin, obliterating the next group.

"Charell or Suffee?" Fett said.

Tony misstepped, stumbling forward before he caught himself. "What?" Tony asked, barely able to keep the alarm from his voice. His hand flew to his earpiece.

"Suffee is assisting Galee with triage. Charell is approximately three blocks away from the Black Fist Neither have critical injuries," FRIDAY informed him, knowing exactly what he needed.

Fett cast Iron Maiden another look. "Charell?" he asked again. His eyes flicked to Iron Man. "Solo," he stated, though from the look on his face, Tony could tell that Fett did not really think that Kristoff was piloting the suit.

"After," Tony said slowly, frustration seeping into his voice, "I'll tell you everything, after." Why did everyone have tunnel vision? Steve and his Bucky-ing, Gis and his determination to get out and fight, Colton and his 'I will kill you' phase, everyone's secrets, and now Fett! What now?

So caught up in his bemoaning, Tony missed the end of the rooftops and would have leapt out into open air if Fett did not grab his arm to yank him back.

Unfortunately, between enhanced Extremis jumps and pure Mandalorian muscles, Extremis won. The force of Tony's leap brought them both over the edge. For a split second, Tony's eyes locked into the ground.

Four stories.

That was how far they would have to fall.

Tony's mind began spitting out statistics. Falling from thirty feet had a fifty percent chance of death. Fifty feet had a ninety percent mortality rate. Four stories was roughly forty feet. If it was a smaller height, Tony would have tried tucking and rolling. However, at forty feet, landing feet-first would be best, right? Broken legs were better than broken spines. But what about Fett? A fall from this height probably wouldn't be enough to kill Tony, but what about a Mandalorian? Shoot, should he use himself as a cushionAnd that was about as far as he got before their fall stopped with a sudden jerk. He looked up to see Fett's eyes bulge for a moment and his face whiten with pain. Tony followed the other man's arm up to see that Fett was holding onto the ledge with his other hand. His grip was already slipping.

Dislocated shoulder, Tony knew immediately. The other man had to be in intense pain.

Tony looked down to see a ledge somewhat to his left. "Drop me," Tony ordered. He was half glad, half disappointed to see Fett let go without question. After this fiasco, they would be having words about Fett's apparent willingness to have him fall to his death.

Grabbing the top of the window, Tony swung in. He had just enough time to secure himself before Fett plummeted down. Hooking his arm around Fett's waist, Tony hauled the Mandalorian into the room. Kriff, the man was heavy!

Despite his caution not to wrap his arm around Fett's chest, he still jarred the man's dislocated shoulder. He felt the man go rigid against him, but a split second later, any sign of it was gone. Fett rolled and landed on his feet, one arm raised defensively, the other tucked to his stomach.

"Sorry," Tony said awkwardly. He gestured for the arm and stepped forward. "I can fix…" He trailed off as Fett jerked away, holding his left arm close.

Through gritted teeth, Fett asked, "Haven't you done enough?"

Tony's hand hung between them for a moment before Tony let it fall to his side. "Look, I messed up. I know I messed up, and I'm sorry. I-"

"This isn't a game," Fett bit out. "You lose, you die."

"I've been in life-or-death situations before," Tony replied testily.

"Solo thinks you are brilliant," Fett said. "A fighter, a thinker. Someone who would bring change."

Tony blinked, thrown off. "Thanks?"

"I don't see it. You are careless, hypocritical, distracted. People die because of you. He said a warrior. I see a child," Fett said scathingly.

Honestly… Tony had no reply for that. Fett braced his back against the wall, glaring at Tony until he looked away. Awkwardly examining a scorched wall, Tony watched from the corner of his eye as Fett rotated his arm, doing emergency relocation of his shoulder. There was a soft, nearly inaudible pop, and Fett strolled to the window. Not sure if the other man would appreciate his presence, Tony waited a second and cautiously approached, standing a safe distance away, but at an angle where he could see the siege on Paramexor's fortress.

The wall surrounding the building had a sizable gap between itself and the rest of the city. What was once probably a secondary training ground was now a veritable battlefield, filled with the dead and the dying. The fighting had moved inside the walls by now, Iron Man and Iron Maiden with it.

"I'm going to go inside," Tony said, waving vaguely in the direction of the walls as Fett ripped a shirt belonging to whoever lived in the room and began tying it up. "I suppose you're going to stay here or head back to the ship?"

In response, Fett finished his makeshift sling and headed towards the door. Shrugging internally, Tony walked to it. As he walked past, Fett grabbed him with his right hand, pulling him close.

"I won't die for you," Fett hissed in his ear. "Tayli'bac?" he spat. He shoved Tony away with enough force - not to be mistaken for 'Force' - to send the stronger man back a step. Pivoting on his heel, Fett stalked down the stairs.

Tony stared after Fett, stunned. His first instinct was anger, but watching Fett stand at the edge of the door, shoulders taut as if expecting a hit and looking so very alone, Tony could not help but feel a tinge of pity. It must be terrible, the inventor mused, to have no one worth dying for, because that meant that he had no one worth living for.

This man was who Tony might have been, in another life.

"I'd do it. For you. I'd take a blaster bolt to the… well, not chest. Maybe a shoulder or my foot. If you're particularly nice that day, maybe even the stomach," Tony said. Realizing how out of context it was, he added, "You're important. Kinda. We bounty hunters should stick together."

"Utreekov! You are foolish," Fett scoffed. "You say you would do it, but when you stand in front of the army, you run." He moved to leave the roof, but Tony blocked him. Paramexor was important, but, kriff, this had to be addressed now .

"I prefer the term 'idealist,'" Tony shot back, standing in Fett's way. "I don't know who you've been hanging with, but there's people who care about you. Kristoff, for example. I'd include myself on the list, but you make yourself very hard to like."

"Slana'pir," Fett ordered in a deadly voice. Tony hesitated, then stepped to the side.

"Look, if you don't think that you mean something to me in a totally platonic way, then at least trust that I think you're useful and need your skills and connections. I'm not throwing you away."

"Your droid is escaping," Fett said, looking at the clouds.

Tony walked to the door and looked up. He saw a hot pink dot in the sky, rapidly shrinking. He tapped his earpiece. "Tony to…" He eyed Fett. "Weekday-One. What the kriff do you think you're doing?"

"I'm following Paramexor, boss. He's up there, if you want to know," FRIDAY said.

"And you didn't feel the need to tell me?" Tony demanded.

"Just like you didn't feel the need to replace me?" FRIDAY asked tearfully.

Deep breaths. Take deep breaths. "I didn't replace you, Fr… Weekday-One," Tony said with a calmness he did not feel. He eyed Fett for a moment, then walked away so the Mandalorian would not be able to listen in. "Friday, baby girl, that was you. That was your coding. I fixed the programs you asked me to. We ran into some problems, and we needed an AI on the ground. I would've taken you in a heartbeat, but I thought you'd be with Bail," Tony said earnestly.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"It's not like that. Friday…" He looked behind him to see what Fett was doing.

"I'm cutting the connection."

"Friday!" There was no answer.

Tony put his hand on his face and dragged it down. Love and pining for Bail, sisterly jealousy for MONDAY, and all this passive-aggressive acting out? It was terrible. It sounded as if… as if FRIDAY had hit the infamous teenage phase. Tony imagined years of teenage angst as FRIDAY figured out who she was and what she wanted to do with her life. JARVIS was bad enough, with all the sad classical music and dim lighting. Tony hoped that FRIDAY did not go through all the health kicks that JARVIS went through, canceling all his fast food orders and bringing in salads and vegetable soups.

Fett had already gone into the fray, as far as Tony could see. There appeared to be a very violent man taking down slavers with one hand off to the right. It could have been any bounty hunter, but Tony was convinced it was Fett.

"Not going to deal with this. Nope." It was probably cowardly, but Tony did not have time for this. Entering the gates, he edged along the wall until he was at a section with minimal scuffles. The bounty hunters and slavers at this part had both somehow managed to make the other side lose their blasters. They had all resorted to their fists, wrestling each other on the ground.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Tony put on his best 'I am not a target' face on and meandered past them. Paramexor's men saw him as a civilian seeking shelter, while the slavers… hopefully saw someone who was not quite as much as a threat as bounty hunters. Whatever he looked like, it must have worked, because no one shot at him. He causally entered the main building before sprinting again.

Running through wrecked, deserted halls Tony looked for anything resembling a command room. He cut across a huge shipyard, noting the grounded spacecrafts. Then, someone tried to tackle him. The key word was 'tried.'

"Hey, who are you?" the guy clinging to him yelled.

Tony looked down at the man hugging his waist. "I'm Tony Stark."

No recognition.

"The guy who made your grapple?" Tony tried, seeing his invention on the guy's belt.

"Hold on," the bounty hunter said, letting go of Tony and straightening. He pulled out a StarkPhone and typed on it. He enlarged a picture of Tony and held it up to Tony's face. "Oh, yeah. You're him. Okay, go on."

With a wary glance back at the obviously-insane bounty hunter, Tony took off again. He stopped, went back, and asked, "Hey, do you know where the command room is?"

-Insert Quote HereSliding doors did not possess the same dramatics as slamming doors did, but Tony did his best, punching the wall as he entered to make that refreshing banging sound. "Okay, I'm angry. More than, angry, really. I'm furious, enraged. I've had death threats, had attempts on my life, went halfway around the known universe, and fought my way through a small army of incompetents. Where the fu- where the Force is Paramexor and how do I get him back?"

A mousy-looking woman pointed at the ceiling and squeaked, "He's up there!"

"Good. Now open a line so I can call him."

"Listen to him," a man with a scarred face told them. "He's Tony Stark." No comprehension. "Leader of SI?" Eyes widened in recognition and went to StarkPads, earpieces, and objects latched onto belts. As one, Paramexor's men pulled out their StarkPhones, found pictures of Tony, and compared it to the real-life version as Tony tapped his foot impatiently.

"We can't," a Rodian finally explained. "The KSC, they knocked down some of our receivers."

"Receivers are easy. Don't tell me you don't know how to fix them."

"We have a team on it," he answered apologetically. "We couldn't direct the space battle from here, so Paramexor flew up there to do it himself."

"Weekday-One, is it possible for you to bring… Mark I into the space battle?" Tony asked, wondering if FRIDAY would understand that he meant Iron Man. He brought up a camera feed of the shipyard.

"Negative, Boss," FRIDAY answered. "Mark II has shields necessary for successful space flight. Mark I has a 68% chance of destruction."

Tony nodded, expecting this answer, though he was not happy about it. "Are all these ships broken?"

He was given a hesitant nod.

"Right-o. You, you, and you, get the wing off this starfighter," he pointed at one of the fighters on the screen, "and switch in with this one. Get this hyperspace ring and weld it on. If you don't know how to, get one of the technicians do do it. Anyone have a spare StarkPad? Not going to lie, it's probably not going to survive this plan." He snapped his fingers twice. "Get moving!"

He snatched the StarkPad off of some poor bounty hunter's hands. "I'll reimburse you. MONDAY, copy all the information on this StarkPad. Any pictures, files, high scores in Master Builder, save them all and prepare to download on another pad." Following the rest of his new minions to the chosen starcraft, he climbed into the cockpit, messily cutting open the console and fiddling with the wires in the control panel. He connected it to the StarkPad. "Sorry to whoever owns this baby."

Some sparks flew at him, but they only stung a bit. It was a rushed job, but the StarkPad was now connected to the starfighter. "Monday, connect this to my personal pad, will you?" He pulled out the StarkPad that the beginnings of MONDAY were created on and checked once she signalled that she was done. Tony looked down the side of the jet to see the technicians finish welding the undamaged wing on. "We good to go?"

"Sir," the lead technician said apologetically, "You should wait a bit. It's unstable. The welds are still setting."

"Your leader," Tony said, not sure what Paramexor was to them, exactly, "is being captured by your enemies, and you're worried about this?"

"Boss, what are you doing?"

"I'll be fine, Fri. Kristoff, Suffee, you guys are in charge. Don't disturb me," Tony ordered.

"They're done. All of the fights are winding down. They want to fly to Paramexor's base...Dad? I can't see you. Are you going to fly a starfighter up here?"

"I won't be in danger," Tony reassured her. "Concentrate on Paramexor. I'll draw their attention."

"I don't like this. Tell me the plan!" FRIDAY insisted.

"Don't really have one. I'm sort of winging it," Tony said dismissively. He turned to some guys near the shuttles. "Can I hitch a ride out of the atmosphere? That wasn't really a request, by the way."

-Insert Quote HereJust outside the atmosphere, close enough that gravity played tricks on the space shuttles and starfighters, numerous starcrafts were duking it out. Paramexor was anxious, though he did not show it. He could not - the moment he panicked, the pilots under his command would too.

"Delta Squadron, flank left," he ordered. "Torrent Squadron, cover them, then veer right. The rest, follow me."

This entire thing was a mistake. He was foolish to meet their challenge and face them in space. Now, the men on the ground would be pinned down in their fortress. His pilots, so brave and loyal, would all be killed. He himself would be taken as a prisoner, a slave, a mere token to keep his men in line. Paramexor would rather die.

The squadrons he called for answered affirmative, peeling off of the main fleet to complete their maneuvers. Safe in his cockpit, with no one to see him, Paramexor winced. He knew the outcome a moment before it happened.

As soon as the Torrent Squadron swerved right, the Delta Squadron was left wide open. One by one, the five unfortunate pilots in the Delta Squadron let out chilling cries that were quickly cut off. Paramexor could see the explosions at the corner of his eye.

Just as planned.

While the KSC starfighters were occupied slaughtering the Delta Squadron and keeping an eye on Paramexor's main forces, the Torrent Squadron quickly made use of their distraction to carve a line of destruction through the middle of the enemy formation before Paramexor called the two survivors to retreat.

It was not enough. His men were dying.

"Left flank suffering heavy losses. Your orders?"

Paramexor clenched his fist. "Storm Squadron, diversionary maneuvers! Drop in fifteen seconds. Forrest, Gamma, and Steel Squadrons, fire at will when Storm Squad clears the danger zone."

"Roger that!" his men snapped back.

Paramexor wondered at their loyalty, their belief that he would get them through this storm. Would they feel the same if they knew they were just pawns to him? That he sent the Delta Squadron out to die? That he did not expect the Storm Squadron to survive this plan?

It was for the greater good. The lives of many outweighed the lives of a few. Their sacrifice was necessary to win, or at least survive longer, Paramexor knew, but would they feel the same?

In the middle of defending against a pincer maneuver, Paramexor took a few seconds to watch silently as the last of the Storm Squadron died in a glorious red and orange fireball. One of his closest friends had been in the squadron, and Paramexor wondered if that was him.

For the Storm Squadron. Paramexor hit one of the critical areas on his next shot, sending the enemy starfighter swerving into its neighbor. Behind him, the Forrest, Gamma, and Steel Squadrons sent a volley of plasma to avenge their fellow pilots. Almost two dozen KSC starfighters were destroyed before the group scattered.

Somehow, it did not feel like a success.

A crackle had Paramexor turning his attention to one of his secondary channels."Base? Are you receiving?"

A muffled cheer went up over the open channel. "We are receiving, sir! The enemy is on retreat. It is safe to dock."

Paramexor nodded. "Forrest Squadron, covering fire! Right flank, wait for an opening and retreat to the shuttles."

A few starfighters immediately headed towards the shuttles, but most continued dodging and returning fire.

"Elson-"

"On it, sir!" the cheeky pilot answered without waiting for him to finish. One of the starfighters, painted an offensive orange, ducked out and began weaving between KSC starfighters. Taking advantage of the distraction, most of the right flank filed towards the shuttles.

"Sol squadron, retreat. Eclipse Squadron, cover the Sol Squadron."

"Roger that," answered the sole remaining pilot of the Sol Squadron. Half a minute later, there were no pilots in the Sol Squadron.

"Base, what is that obnoxiously-colored abomination?" Paramexor snapped, seeing a pink… thing fly past and engage half a dozen enemy ships. He was glad for the backup, but must it be that shade? It rivaled Elson's ship in the art of being an eyesore.

"It appears to be an offshoot of the Red D- Iron Man, sir. We have information suggesting that it goes by the designation of 'Iron Maiden.'"

Muttering under his breath, Paramexor directed his fleet, sneaking starfighters back to the shuttles and sending the shuttles down to the base once they were filled. Thirty more pilots… Twenty-nine more pilots… Twenty-seven more pilots.

Paramexor growled as two of the enemy starfighters swooped at him at the same time. He twisted his starfighter away, clipping his left wing on one of them.

His incredulousness only increased as they continued recklously diving at him. "Those idiots are going to kill us both," he muttered.

"Sir?"

"Not talking to you," Paramexor answered.

"Dude, they're herding you!" a new voice warned. With alarm, Paramexor realized that the voice was right. He was already cut off from the rest of the group, being pressed back towards a KSC freighter.

"Torrent Squadron is regrouping. We'll be there in two minutes. Hold on, sir."

"Steel Squadron redirecting from the shuttlers. ETA four minutes."

"My squadron isn't… isn't available, but I'm still here," that idiot Elson offered.

Paramexor felt his ship hum and slumped in resignation. "It's no use, boys. Head back. I'm stuck in a tractor beam." It was unsaid that their measly weapons were no use against a larger ship.

"Don't worry, I got it covered," the new voice reassured. "Can you see my starfighter? It's the white one with one red wing and a hyperspace ring to your right. Can you see it? Hi, Paramexor!"

"Who are you?" Paramexor asked, getting the irrational urge to strangle whoever that annoyingly cheerful voice belonged to.

"That hurts. You don't recognize my voice? That's mean. Especially since my crew nearly died for you."

"Who. Are. You?"

"The name's Stark. Tony Stark." The starfighter dodged all that came near it, be it shots or other fighters. "Hold on, I got this. Ha!" The hyperspace ring lit up. Paramexor blinked and missed what was going on.

One second, he was still trapped in the tractor beam. The next, his starfighter was shooting off, and he was swerving to dodge one of the KSC starcrafts. He fought his way to a clear zone and glanced back.

Tony's strange starcraft was nowhere to be seen, having entered hyperspace. The freighter that had him was nearly cleaved in two.

One red wing floated away from the destruction.

-I could've ended here, but I didn't. Aren't I nice?-

Tony pulled off his earpiece, rubbing his ear. It was kind of uncomfortable. He had to invest in better materials. He turned off the terminal and disconnected the StarkPad from it. He glanced to the next console over to see that Paramexor's tracking signal was heading towards safety. Swiveling his chair around, he nodded to the silent group of bounty hunters who crammed into the room to watch him remotely pilot a stolen starfighter.

The bounty hunters stared at him. Tony stared back. None of them made a peep, so Tony supposed it was up to him to break the silence. "And that's how you pull off a rescue mission," he claimed, giving them his best showman smile.

Kristoff began clapping slowly, sarcastically. The rest of the bounty hunters did not pick up on his mood though. First, one of them joined in, then another. Suddenly, the whole room was clapping, whooping, and congratulating him.