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July Year 5 |
In Our Last Issue: Exhausted from battle and his newest armor all but destroyed, Tony Stark returns to his Long Island home for some much deserved rest, only to be attacked in his penthouse by a new armored foe named Surge! Iron Man manages to defeat his young opponent only to discover that the teen claims to be Tony Stark's son! Meanwhile, the AIM/Hammer alliance begins to bare fruit . . .
"Supreme Scientist, I have my initial report."
The air in the chamber was artificially dry and pure. Not even a micron's worth of dust or bacteria had infiltrated the vast room's atmosphere. Number 17 always ended up with chapped lips whenever she came here, but fortunately her omnipresent helmet concealed this fact. Besides, minor physical discomfort was no sacrifice when it allowed one to be in the presence of the intellectual commander of Advanced Idea Mechanics.
"Continue, Number 17."
As always, the Supreme Scientist remained in shadow, although her suit's scanners just barely made out his shape reclined in the command chair at the far end of the rectangular chamber. Dozens of video screens covered each of the longer walls, one side monitoring most of the world's satellite communications, while the other scanned various sites within their global headquarters.
To Number 17 it seemed impossible to make any sense out of so many simultaneous images, but that was why he was in command and she was merely a newly elevated Prime. In fact, she owed her new station to this recent Supreme Scientist. When he assumed command only months ago, he had overturned the old order (eliminating most of the Top Ten in the process) and created a new class: the Primes. Cherry-picking the best and brightest of the next generation while consolidating his own power, he reshuffled the numerical order. Now the prime numbers ruled. She actually outranked Number Four, much to that old man's chagrin. Not that he'd ever dare complain openly.
Not after what happened to Number Six . . .
She shivered at the vision which came unbidden to her mind's eye.
"Number 17," the Supreme Scientist said, a hint of impatience in his voice.
She came back to the matter at hand. "Yes, sir. Justin Hammer supplied the specifications we requested and the Combat Lab has successfully duplicated the mechanisms. We can begin mass production in a matter of days."
"Tell the Manufacturing Division that they have 48 hours."
Number 17 knew better than to argue. "Of course, sir. I'll alert them immediately to begin the reconfiguring of the equipment."
"Continue."
"Mr. Hammer agreed to act as an intermediary to supply the individual you requested. He will cover his fee in return for the patent on the anti-gravity module we developed last year." She paused, and then decided to show some initiative, "He appeared to be quite pleased with the arrangement. That patent will probably be worth billions once they engineer a domestic vehicle that can run off of it."
She paused, waiting for a response.
Silence lingered for several uncomfortable seconds.
"Are you questioning me, Number 17?"
It was asked in the same polite manner one might use to request the time from a passerby on the street, but underneath that civil veneer lurked danger. Suddenly, Number Six's corpse flashed in her mind again, beckoning with those horrible charred fingers, while a leaden knot tightened in the pit of her stomach.
"Of course not, sir," she swallowed hard, her mouth impossibly dry now, "I merely wish to understand. I-I realize that AIM will-will-"
The Supreme Scientist got up slowly and began to approach, "You realize that AIM will what, my dear?"
Number 17 took a step backwards in spite of herself.
"I realize that we will of course get the better of any arrangement . . . "
The Supreme Scientist slowly came out of the shadows. He wasn't wearing his helmet. "However?" he asked, helpfully.
"I-I just don't see how, at the moment." She finished rather abruptly. She would have never imagined the Supreme Scientist looked like this. She had seen that face somewhere before. . . somewhere in the Archives. . .
The man stopped a few feet away.
"Ah, yes. An honest answer, Number 17. And an honest answer, deserves an honest response."
Suddenly her helmet unsealed and floated above her head. She involuntarily looked up at it hanging there, and gasped as he casually reached out and cupped her chin.
His grip was incredibly strong.
"You see, Number 17, AIM is irrelevant. Iron Man is all that matters."
Something flashed and Number 17 felt a sharp pain. She tried to scream, but the electricity that flowed into her seized all of her muscles in violent contractions. The Supreme Scientist watched her corpse jump and shudder in his grasp for several seconds before he let it drop unceremoniously to the floor.
He sighed and walked back to his chair.
"Western women never seem to know their place."
"He's my father."
The words echoed in Tony Stark's mind.
Three simple words.
And yet, they could change everything in his life.
"That's . . . that just not possible," he said, as much to himself as to the young man standing furiously before him. The early day's sun shined clearly on the teen-ager's face. A face whose features now seemed familiar to him. A face with similar eyes, hair, and other structures. He suddenly saw a lot of his own visage there, staring back at him.
"How would you know?" Surge spat back at him, visibly shaking with anger, "You're just a glorified bodyguard! Hell, you're not even the original Iron Man! You're just the latest in a line of suckers who does my high-and-mighty father's dirty work because he's too chicken shit to do his own!"
Such anger. Could he truly be---No!
Iron Man shook his head.
Get control of yourself, Tony. This kid has to be at least 15! That's before Bethany. Even before Whitney. There's just no way!
"Listen, as Mr. Stark's bodyguard, I know everything about him. His only living relative is his cousin. Mr. Stark has never had a son. He's never even been married."
"Yeah, well, that is the textbook definition of a bastard, now isn't it?" Surge's face flushed a shade darker as he drew his sword once again.
Suddenly, the circuitry on the blade flashed and the weapon was enveloped in an aura of pure energy. "I call this my Energy Sheath, Iron Man. It is my most powerful weapon. Now I'm sure your modern armor could hold up against it, but are you willing to risk it with the retro version you're wearing now?"
Iron Man's scanners measured a significant energy output coming from the blade. There was a decent chance the boy could make good on his threat.
"Listen, I don't think we need to fight anymore. You are obviously confused, but I don't think you really want to hurt me. You could have activated that blade when we were fighting inside."
"Then take me to Tony Stark."
"I'm afraid I can't do that. . ."
Surge tensed, face determined.
". . . yet. Stand down, and let's talk."
Surge kept his combat position, face uncertain. Their two shadows slowly shrank as the sun continued its inexorable climb into the bright blue sky.
"Please, Surge, be reasonable. You trespass on Stark International property. You break into Mr. Stark's personal penthouse. You attack me and then make an incredible accusation. Would you let me see Mr. Stark if our positions were reversed?"
Surge seemed to ponder for a moment. Then he powered down his sword and sheathed it in a single smooth motion. "Well, when you put it like that . . ."
He hadn't meant to go crazy like that. In fact, he was pretty embarrassed now that he had had a few minutes to regain his composure. Still acting like a kid, even with all this intellect. How pathetic. Iron Man must think I'm just some whining, angst-filled adolescent.
Despite his harsh words, Surge really admired Iron Man. The Golden Avenger was the inspiration for his own battle suit, after all. Sitting here, at a massive oak dining table, talking with his idol, this was a dream come true. If only, he believed me . . .
"You have some impressive gear, Surge. Where did you get it?"
"I made it," he said rather proudly.
"Really? But these materials and circuitry aren't cheap. How did you afford them?" Iron Man leaned back in his chair, appraising him, "I mean, you seem a bit young to have a full-time job."
Surge smiled, in spite of himself, "Yeah, well, school's the most important thing right now. I just started my Master's at ESU a few months ago. Grad school can be a little tough, but I can handle-Hey! You're just trying to get information about me."
"Of course," Iron Man said hastily, "I can't let Mr. Stark see you without insuring that you pose no threat. The man has many enemies, after all."
"Yeah," Surge said bitterly, "Like the Titanium Man."
Someday, he will pay for what he did . . .
Titanium Man? What does he have to do with anything?
Iron Man watched the young man for a moment, once again struck by his physical similarity to himself. The boy obviously harbors strong feelings about him.
But why?
"Surge," He said carefully, "What is your real name? Who is your mother?"
The young man brought his attention back to him.
"I'm sorry, but that information is for Mr. Stark only."
Tony sighed. This is getting us no where.
"Then I'm afraid we'll have to-"
"Test me."
"Pardon me?"
"I said, test me. Blood, DNA, whatever. I'm sure the proper technology to do it is somewhere nearby. Should only take a few hours, right?"
Tony was taken aback. Why would a fake offer to be tested? Unless. . .
"Well, what do you say?" Surge stood up, grabbed his hair and pulled out a few threads. He also dabbed a napkin at one of the cuts he received in battle, staining the cloth red. "Here. You want saliva?" He spit in an empty cup and placed it in front of Iron Man as well.
"So, do we have a deal? Test all this stuff, and if it comes out a match, you'll let me talk to Tony Stark."
"I don't know, Surge."
"What? What is it? Do you want more? Show me a bathroom then, and I'll---"
"That won't be necessary."
"Then what is it? Are you afraid I'm right? That maybe Stark isn't the poster boy you think he is?"
The insult hurt. Tony sighed. "Okay, I'll run the tests."
He got up and headed toward the vault, carrying the samples. He turned just before he entered the ruined doorway, "Stay here. Get something to eat from the kitchen. I'm going to carefully and thoroughly test all three of these specimens. Then I'm going to double check them. This could take several hours."
The young man stared at him.
"Take as much time as you need, Iron Man." Surge smiled grimly,
"I already know what the results will be."
The satellite image was crystal clear, despite the fact it was being relayed through no less than eight stations before reaching its targeted audience. The encryption process caused a slight delay in communication, but it was a necessary annoyance in order to insure SHIELD, INTERPOL, or any other number of international authorities couldn't eavesdrop on the conversation.
Justin Hammer always preferred to keep this type of business transaction private.
"Make this worth my time, Hammer." The man on the screen stated abruptly.
If such a lack in manners irritated the multi-billionaire, he did not show it.
"Ah, my boy!" He laughed lightly, "Straight to the point, as always. Just one more delightful reason I find myself so generous with you."
"If you are asking me to join that ridiculous palace guard of yours again, forget it. I don't like staying in one place too long, no matter how well it pays."
"Of course not! I still hope you'll come to your senses some day, dear lad, but I have something else in mind. You are still willing to accept contract work, correct?"
"I won't have room for more students until the next fiscal year, Hammer."
"You misunderstand me, sir," Hammer said clearly and carefully, a hint of steel entering his voice as he began to weary of this exchange. "I wish to hire you, personally, to take care of a particular problem of mine. A superhuman type problem."
"Why? You've got a dozen guys to handle those types of problems."
"While my assets are considerable, a good businessman knows when outside experts are required. You have the . . . talents . . . I require for this particular task."
The man on the screen smiled.
"Well, they don't call me the Taskmaster for nothing,"
Tony Stark had run the tests.
Three times.
While the blood type wouldn't have necessarily been conclusive, the genetic markers were. The boy shared his DNA.
He wasn't a clone.
He wasn't an LMD.
He wasn't from an alternate timeline.
He knew this because while he was running the tests, he had trained every possible piece of scanning equipment on Surge without his knowledge. The entire penthouse was imbedded with the best technological sensors he could devise. His various experiences both as Iron Man and an Avenger had enabled him to learn how to detect a variety of warning signs. The boy didn't give off any chronal energies. His cells showed none of the indications of accelerated clone growth. Life Model Decoys were not organic.
He couldn't help but feel a little guilty now, but deception was, all too often, a common tactic of his enemies. Midas, Stane, Hammer. The list went on and on.
He was so used to having his guard up that he wasn't sure he could let it down.
But he had to try.
That was his son out there.
He found Surge sleeping on a couch, the remains of lunch on a nearby table. Apparently he had been looking at photo albums. Iron Man paused to see what page the boy had been looking at before he fell asleep.
And froze.
They were pictures of him and a smiling, beautiful young woman.
Someone who had meant a great deal to him before her untimely death.
At the hands of the Titanium Man.
That was over fifteen years ago . . .
"Janice Cord." He whispered, not realizing he spoke those words aloud.
"Now do you believe me?"
Startled out of his thoughts, Iron Man saw that Surge was awake.
"Word to the wise," Surge said, "That armor makes it pretty hard to sneak up on people. Even with the plush carpeting." The boy smiled.
"We have to talk." Iron Man replied.
Surge sighed, crossed his arms and slumped back into the leather couch, "Look, we had a deal. Both of us know what the test results concluded. I am Tony Stark's son, and I'm not going to answer any more questions until I speak to him."
For several minutes, silence reigned, as the two stared at each other.
Then Iron Man entered a cybernetic code, brought his hands up, and removed his helmet.
Tony Stark stared down at the shocked expression of his son.
"Like I said, we have to talk."
NEXT ISSUE: Tony Stark is a father. But how did it happen and why was it kept a secret from him? Plus: Hammer's first strike at Iron Man might be the only one he needs! Featuring Taskmaster as you've never seen him before.
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