"Ties That Bind"

by Bill Kirsch

In Our Last Issue: Iron Man has emerged triumphant in his epic battle with the Juggernaut. Such an incredible victory has had a price, however, as his most recent armor has been severely damaged and will need weeks of repair. Meanwhile, Justin Hammer and AIM have entered into an unholy alliance and a mysterious young man has successfully infiltrated Tony Stark’s personal quarters in Long Island. . . .

* * * * *

."Thanks for the lift, Cap," a very weary Tony Stark said as he stepped down out of the vehicle and squinted. The sun was now climbing above the horizon, having passed through dawn about an hour ago, and the fiery orb was becoming quite bright. Normally, the polarized lenses of his helmet would automatically filter out excess sunlight.

Number 67 on the repair list. He sighed.

"Not a problem, Tony, although I did find the request a bit unusual."

"Well, I figured a Quinjet would be the quickest way back to New York, considering my armor’s pretty much toast." In fact, it would be very nice to take the suit off and have a nice shower. Dragging around the excess weight was starting to wear on him. Of course, if Stark Enterprises had had a branch office in Vegas, none of this would have been a problem.

Captain America smiled, "Going ten rounds with the Juggernaut will do that to you. Remember, even Thor had trouble with that guy." Cap started back into the Quinjet. "Take it easy, Tony. And remember you’re welcome back on the team anytime you want."

"I’ll keep that in mind, Avenger."

The noise of the Quinjet taking off was uncomfortably loud without the armor’s sound buffers kicking in to mute the noise.

He keyed in his code, allowed the door to conduct a quick retinal scan, and dragged himself into the roof access on the Stark Enterprises Administration Building. A long shower, a short nap, a quick scan of the status reports Mrs. Arbogast had so diligently prepared for him last night, and he’d see what systems he could get up and running before he decided what to do for the evening.

After all, he was still technically on vacation. . . .

* * * * *

The young man awoke with a start.

For the first time since he’d successfully bypassed Stark security to gain entry to the penthouse (a process that had taken three times longer than he had thought), there had been a noise. He quickly checked his onboard chronometer. It was 8:37 AM.

Crap, I’ve been asleep for almost 3 hours!

He realized he was still stuck on the ceiling and began to crawl carefully along it towards the source of the sound. His earlier attempt to locate his target had been unsuccessful, and he’d decided to wait for his quarry to return. He’d spent quite a bit of time exploring the sprawling living quarters and was amazed by the sheer luxury of the premises. The teen had grown up in comfort, but Stark was clearly in a different league.

Somehow, this bothered him more than he thought it would.

* * * * *

Tony Stark entered the Vault and closed the door behind him. It locked itself automatically with a satisfying CA-CHINK. Beyond the entrance, a camouflaging wall of oak paneling (complete with lighting fixtures and a picture of an medieval knight on horseback) slid into place.

Automatic lighting came to life, illuminating a comfortable working area filled with diagnostic equipment, computers, a repair bay, and a gallery of former Iron Man armors along the back wall. While his main lab was located in a secret sub-basement beneath this very building, he would be able determine exactly what could be repaired and what would have to be completely replaced easily enough from here.

Besides, he just wanted to get the damn thing off of him right now.

As he stripped down, he glanced over at the gallery. Replicas of his Golden, Classic Red and Gold, Space, and Stealth suits stood along side functional versions of the Silver Sphinx and Deep Sea armors. He supposed he could cannibalize components from the latter two to jumpstart the repair process, but first he had to figure out just how bad things were.

Standing in his underwear, Tony Stark hooked the helmet of his armor to the diagnostic computer and began the scanning program. He slumped into a chair and sighed. Various parts of his body ached from the bumps and bruises courtesy of the Juggernaut, but nothing appeared to be too serious. Nothing a two-hour massage wouldn’t cure. Say, now that’s a good idea. . .

He was just about to have his computer order a special house call from one of New York City’s finest masseuses when the alert sounded.

Someone was trying to break into the Vault.

* * * * *

STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!

He should have checked everything more thoroughly, but he had been too afraid that he’d set off an alarm somehow. Now someone (probably the same person he was looking for) had just walked right in and gone into some kind of secret room. He’d just caught a glimpse of a fake wall closing as he entered the entertainment area where it was located. After spending a few minutes trying to determine a course of action, he’d impulsively forced the wall open, hoping to catch the person off guard.

Instead he was staring at a huge vault made of some kind of metal alloy that looked like it would take him half the day to break through. He then noticed a little blinking red light at its top, connected to some kind of hi-tech security camera. He launched an electro-shuriken at it and the charged missile destroyed the machine easily. This forced him to drop the stealth field, and he stood revealed for the first time.

Almost instantly several metallic tentacles emerged from the vault door and attempted to restrain him, as about a half dozen alarms screamed to life. The young man flipped gracefully backwards out of their immediate reach, unsheathed his primary weapon, and sliced through two tentacles as he landed on what was probably a very expensive leather couch.

The four remaining security arms realigned themselves for his new position, while two guns of some kind popped out of their ceiling housings and fired.

He managed to deflect the first with his blade, but the second hit him in the leg. It was a force blast of some kind (probably a low level repulsor his intellect offered helpfully) that spun him wildly and made him fall from the splendid couch and crash through an equally luxurious coffee table, complete with a jade and gold statue that probably had cost more than his mother’s car.

He barely had time to roll over when two tentacles clamped down on both his arms. Gee, this is going well . . .

He redirected power to his muscle enhancers and pulled.

After about five seconds of straining, he was rewarded with a metallic whining sound as both tentacles were ripped from their base. He jumped straight up about six feet to avoid a second barrage of replusors, and sent a double shot of electro-shurikens at the guns, removing them from play. A carefully timed swipe with the sword on the way down finished the last tentacles off.

"Now that’s what I call a field test!" he shouted triumphantly, adrenalin pumping. He leg felt a little sore, but the armor had held up!

He realized a few seconds later that the vault had opened.

"Ready for the main event?" Iron Man asked, as twin repulsor rays blew the young man across the room and through the biggest television he had ever seen.

* * * * *

Tony felt a little bad about blindsiding his foe, but here he was in outdated armor, having been put through the wringer not 12 hours ago, and watching some unknown intruder damage his security system and several of his personal possessions. Although he was sure Cap would not have approved, that sucker punch had felt good.

"I have to warn you, buddy, I’m not in a very good mood," Iron Man stepped forward, letting the vault cycle shut behind him. He got his first really good look at his opponent as he extricated himself from the remains of the plasma TV. The armor was form-fitting, primarily white with blue trim. The helmet had nothing but a thin visor on it, while the wrists had some sort of weapon deployment components on them. There was also some kind of compact backpack unit, possibly the power source. The sword was the most interesting. Made of some kind of metal, it was etched with special circuitry whose purpose could only be guessed at. All in all, his foe could be summarized as some kind of hi-tech ninja.

"Why don’t we spare Mr. Stark’s home any further damage and have you give yourself up? You are clearly outmatched."

His opponent crouched defensively, sword in parrying position. "Normally, I’d agree, but I can’t help but notice you’re wearing the Silver Sphinx armor. What’s that? Three years out of date?"

The voice was muffled, but didn’t have any electronic scrambling to alter it. His foe sounded . . . young.

"It’ll be enough to handle you---er, I don’t suppose you have a name?"

"Call me Surge," and with that his opponent faded from view.

Iron Man immediately activated his sensors and was disappointed to find that they didn’t immediately pick up his target. Three years is a lifetime for cutting edge technology, but I should still be able to find something.

Suddenly Surge appeared to his left, striking with his sword. The force of the attack drove the Avenger back against the vault, as the weapon slashed across his chest, leaving an arc of sparks but nothing more than cosmetic damage.

He quickly tried to grab his opponent before he faded away again, but Surge was too quick. Must not be able to maintain the field while using power for other systems such as muscle enhancement, Iron Man thought, Time to slow him down a bit.

One mental command later and eight Iron Men stood were one had before.

Surge appeared once more, slashed through a faux Iron Man and disappeared, "Nice trick. Won’t help you for long!"

"Why did you break in here, Surge? Are you one of Hammer’s crew?" Iron Man carefully moved towards the exit as his armor’s sensor array continued to cycle through the electro-magnetic spectrum, "Or are you just another loser trying to make a name for yourself?" Another hologram was disrupted, this time by some kind of thrown bladed weapon. "Or maybe ROXXON is a bit peeved at the way Stark Enterprises kicked their ass in the last quarter?"

"This doesn’t concern you, Iron Man. I only want Stark."

Another duplicate was decapitated as Surge uncloaked and disappeared.

Iron Man reached the door. At least I can stop worrying about having my stuff destroyed. He started to open it and was immediately knocked through as Surge kicked him hard in the midsection, appearing an instant before he connected.

"Ha! Holograms don’t use doors!"

Iron Man landed about 20 away, in the middle of his pool area. As he stood up from a ruined deck chair, Surge had disappeared again. He let the remaining holograms disappear, knowing his foe had centered on him.

"Nice hit. You won’t get another." The E-M scan was complete, and the results were less than thrilling. Still, Stark was pretty sure he had a solution, "What do you want with Stark? There are legitimate ways to get in touch with him, you know."

"Legitimate?" Surge laughed, "Now, that’s funny."

Iron Man didn’t get the joke, and he didn’t waste any time trying. Surge had reconfirmed his suspicions.

"Surge? Can you hear me?"

"What? Of course, I can hear you!"

"Good."

Tony Stark activated the sonics.

* * * * *

Surge’s head exploded in pain.

The loudest noise he had ever heard in his life was pounding him right between the ears. He tumbled from the table he had been crouched on and crashed into several chairs. The sound just kept coming. He got to his knees, trying to cover his ears, but it barely made a difference. It was starting to get hard to think, much less fight.

"ARRRRGHHHHH! TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!" he gasped.

Something strong clamped down on his shoulder and lifted him up.

"Gladly."

The young man found himself staring into the face of Iron Man.

"Why don’t you cool off?" the Avenger said casually, as one fist pulled back.

The blow that followed both knocked the wind out of Surge and sent him flying in a graceful arc that ended unceremoniously in the penthouse’s large pool.

The stealth field sparked and fizzled as he sank. It had never done well in the rain, but full immersion was well beyond its tolerance. He would have loved to shut it down, but he was more concerned with breathing since he had never gotten around to installing an air supply. He pushed himself off the floor of the pool with his legs, shot out of the water like a dolphin, and landed in a heap near the poolside bar and grill.

His head throbbed and now his stomach wasn’t feeling too great either. He shut down the stealth field before it drained any more power from his reserves and climbed slowly to his feet. This was apparently the wrong thing to do as the sudden urge to vomit overwhelmed him.

He barely got his helmet off in time.

When he was done retching, he realized Iron Man was standing over him.

* * * * *

Iron Man composed himself and spoke, "Ready to give up?"

The kid wiped his mouth and sat back. His eyes narrowed in defiance and then suddenly welled up with tears, "I can’t give up. I have to see Tony Stark!"

The boy scrambled to his feet and assumed a fighting stance, his blue eyes a tempest of anger, sadness, and pain.

"Listen, you’re obviously upset about something," Tony said soothingly, backing up a step to give the teen some space, "Perhaps I can help."

"No! It has to be Tony Stark!"

"But why? I have resources of my own I can call upon—"

"No! I have to talk to him!"

"I don’t understand. What is so important that you have to talk to Mr. Stark?"

The young man’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he hung his head.

"He’s my father."

NEXT ISSUE: Has Tony’s Playboy lifestyle finally caught up to him, or is something more sinister at work? The secret origin of Tony Stark’s son! Nuff said.

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