Narrative: Anthony wakes up. Characters: Anthony Stark NPCs: Howard Stark Location: Infirmary, Stark School Timeline: Saturday 8 October 2011 Description: Anthony wakes up Rating: G Notes: Steered Howard around a bit. Let me know if that's ok, Meesha!
He was in a workshop, all in green. The Wizard bent over him, soldering iron in hand, trying to put him back together. He wanted to ask if they'd found a new heart for him, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. His voice wouldn't work. There was something wrong with his lungs, with his chest...
He was at a country dance, and all the girls were looking at him. The matrons in their mop caps were whispering behind their fans, scheming for their daughters' futures. He was the rich one, the 'catch' so to speak, but he didn't want to be caught. He had to hold his head high, pretend he didn't notice. It was hard to move in these clothes, the top hat and tails, the cravat tied just so. And there was something wrong with his coat. It was much too tight across the chest...
He was in an interrogation room that smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap ramen noodles. The replicant across from him regarded him cooly, red hair catching the light. Then her eyes changed, suddenly shocked as they drifted downward to his shirt. He followed her gaze down to his chest...
He was in a castle, stone and cold. Winter was coming, he could smell it in the air. He'd been left behind, too injured to move when the others went to the capitol. But not all went. The assassin came suddenly, and his mother screamed and clawed at the man to stop him. But his mother was dead, and her ghost passed uselessly through the cutthroat's body as the frost dagger plunged down into his chest...
He was in a hospital bed, cables coming out of his chest...
No, wait, that last one was real. Anthony blinked himself awake, shaken by a sudden fear that his father had been killed and an inexplicable desire to watch Bladerunner. "Dad?" he called out.
"Right here, Tony," his father said, taking Anthony's hand. "How do you feel?"
Anthony wasn't quite sure how to answer, looking down at himself, trying to see how the surgery had gone. The cables were still there, but they were smaller, neater. The gaping hole in his chest had been covered with a smooth casing that was flush with his skin. Tentatively, Anthony reached down and touched it. It felt weird in his body, a chunk of plastic that didn't move the way the rest of him did. But it didn't actually hurt. It was such a relief to not hurt anymore that Anthony closed his eyes in gratitude.
When he opened them again, he saw his father looking down at him with worry. "I'm good, dad," Anthony assured him. "I'm good."
"Good," his father replied, adding a half smile that was very like Anthony's own. "Do you want anything? Just name it; we'll make it happen."
Anthony liked the way his father said 'we.' Together. They would beat this together. He paused, considering the question. What did he want? He wanted to be healed, sure, but barring that...
"I want it covered up," Anthony said emphatically. "I don't want people to know how bad it is. A meeting with PR to spin the story. Special clothes to hide the cables." Anthony's eyes followed the wires to the battery, and his eyebrows lifted. His father had gotten it pretty small, maybe 20 pounds. He wondered how long the charge lasted "And the blueprints," he added. "I bet with some work we can fit that into a backpack. No one's going to question a high school student carrying a backpack."
He looked at his father, and something in his expression made Anthony wonder if he'd said the wrong thing. "Is that ok?" he asked, uncertain.
His father smiled immediately, a camera-ready smile. "Of course, Anthony," he answered. "We'll get it done."