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The Circle And The Flame	By : KMac Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Howie – Arsenal

(A/N: Okay, this one has a lot of stuff skimmed from outside
of the mutant storylines of the Marvel Universe… anything you can’t place,
check the bottom, where I link to my on-line research for this chapter.)

<Good afternoon, Howie,> the
machine said when the dark haired young man entered the secret chamber.
“Good afternoon, Mistress,” he
replied, after sealing the passage behind him.
He rubbed his blue eyes. Must do
something about the dust down here.
<I wasn’t sure you were going to
make it today,> Mistress said.
<There’s chatter all over the airwaves about the destruction of the
Heli-Carrier. It seems the mutants have
begun striking back in earnest now.>
“Yes, it does,” Howie Stark
said. “Mom’s very concerned. Dad doesn’t take frustration well, and if
he’s been drinking, he usually takes it out on her.”
The suggestion of a woman’s face on
the antique projection screen frowned in disappointment. <Oh, Tony…> the computer murmured
sadly, then continued, <It might interest you to know that a powerful mutant
signature has entered the City. Our
detector is picking them up strongly.>
“Show me,” Howie said, smirking a
little from the memory of how he’d gained the device. Two years back, Wilson Fisk, the Mayor-Administrator of New York
successfully lobbied to be one of the few communities hosting a mutant
detector. It was powered by a one of a
handful of circuits scavenged from the ruins of Xavier’s mansion. They didn’t have much of a range, but unlike
the original machine, it could be used without a telepathic operator.
Howard Stark the second, as the son
of a prominent Shield Official, was allowed to see the new technology while it
was being installed. He wasn’t a
mutant, but he sympathized with their plight, and he was determined not to
allow Shield to have the machine. He
built a convincing mockup of the critical circuit in his lab, and one night
before it’s official unveiling, he broke in and replaced it with his
simulation. None of the so-called
technicians really understood how the circuit worked, so they couldn’t explain
it’s sudden failure.
Mayor Fisk was enraged when the
expensive new toy turned out to be faulty, and became even more so when Shield
wouldn’t replace it. Fisk angrily
ordered it to be scrapped, and Howie used his many clandestine contacts to
acquire the remainder of the technology as salvage. He’d smuggled it into his labs via submersible through the
concealed East River tunnel to his family home, and reconstructed it with the
genuine circuit in the sub-basements of the mansion, alongside all his other
secret projects.
The Cerebro signal that Mistress
showed him was the strongest he’d ever seen.
There were usually a number of Mutants in the City; heavily guarded
Sanitation workers, the private pets of local officials -- including Mayor
Fisk, or the pitiful refugees down in the tunnels under New York City, but none
of those held a candle to this mutant.
Who knew what they were up to, but Howie had to find out.
“Deploy the Arsenal armor, please,”
Howie asked her. A section of wall
rotated to reveal the gleaming silver battlesuit that Howie had fashioned from
his grandfather’s ultimate weapon. He
smiled at it proudly; he’d constructed it from the guts of the Alpha prototype,
because, like his grandfather, he didn’t trust the robot’s autonomous
programming. Mistress directly
controlled the Beta unit as a drone, and he’d refinished its dingy appearance
to be identical to his bulky armor, so that she could cover for him, if need
be.
Howie stepped up on the dais, and
the front section of the suit came forward, separating from the back. He donned the snug body suit he wore within
the armor, and then stepped backwards into the heavy boots. Leaning back into the suit, the hydraulics
hissed as they mated the two halves together and locked them into place. Lastly he put on the heavy gloves, and a
dome shaped helmet. Lights and control
screens came on within the helm as the suit powered up. Now, he was the Arsenal.
“Stealth mode, Mistress,” he
said. The suit darkened, turning a dull
matte gray, and then flickering around the edges. A small lift brought him to a secluded spot in the gardens behind
the Stark Manison, where he took off into the air. Mistress directed him to the mutant’s location. He spotted the male, wearing a long trench
coat, walking in the Chinese slums, talking to himself. The young man was clean-shaven, but his green
eyes contained a manic fever. Arsenal
activated a long-range microphone and trained it on the youth.
“…better be worth it, Stephen. I have more important things to do
today.” The young man’s voice had a
definite German accent, which caused Mistress to raise the threat rating
display immediately. The target’s
glittering eyes shot off to the side, and then turned forward again. The youth shook his head, “Yes, you say it
will help me, and since I’m leaving as soon as I get what I came for…” Howie knew all about Mistress’s prejudices,
but didn’t necessarily agree the Mutant’s nationality was a factor. The mutant stopped and ran a hand through
his light brown hair, frowned, and kept moving.
“He certainly seems unstable,”
Arsenal said over his comm..
<Typical of the Nazi breed,>
Mistress replied acidly. Two Shield
security troops swaggered towards the youth.
The youth made an odd gesture, almost like a casual wave, and walked
right by the troops, who seemed to pay no attention to him.
“Okay, that was interesting,” he
said. The youth veered into a
warehouse, and Arsenal followed him.
Tracing voices, Arsenal reached a vantage where he could watch his
target, and what looked a bedraggled Chinese janitor. “Is the janitor a mutant?” he asked Mistress.
<No, Arsenal. Cerebro only detects your target.>
“Wong,” the young mutant said. “Your master sent me to you.”
“I beg your pardon, young sir. I don’t know what you mean.” The Chinese man bowed low to the Caucasian,
his social superior under Shield Law.
The youth bowed stiffly in
response, in the Prussian manner.
“Doctor Stephen Strange sent you out of his home before it
imploded. He put into your care a
mystical artifact known as the Eye of Agamotto, the signature item of Earth’s
Sorcerer Supreme. I can feel it on your
person, at this very moment.”
Wong’s eyes widened fractionally,
and then he schooled his expression again.
“These are… strange matters you speak of.”
“I am Jimmy Szardos, an acolyte of
The Winding Way, and the mutant Raider known as Legacy,” the young man
said. “You are Wong of Kamar-Taj,
Tibet, betrothed of Imei Chang, and the son of Hamir, who served the Ancient
One, and descends from a long line of first born sons dating back to the
honorable Kan of China.”
Wong’s expression lightened, as he
stepped forward and clasped Legacy’s hand.
“Indeed you must be from my master.
How fares he?”
“Wong…” Legacy said. “He’s dead.
That’s my power; to channel the thoughts and abilities of those who
have passed on. Stay close by me, and I
will enable you to speak with him directly.”
Arsenal’s observation instruments
broke into static after the youth made more hand passes. He was able to retain
visual contact with the others until the static abruptly dropped away.
“Thank you, young master,” Wong
said warmly. “Are you sure you won’t
reconsider following in my master’s footsteps?
Legacy gave him a thin smile. “I was born with my feet on another Path,
freund. Still, I will hold the Eye and
the artifacts that it contains until I encounter someone suitable to take up
the mantle of Earth’s magical protector.
Until then, I will consider them to be loans, along with my gratitude.”
The janitor reached into a hidden
pocket of his shabby jacket and drew out a small object that appeared to
be an ornate brass eyeball. Once in
Legacy’s hand, he attached it at his throat, and then pulled an elaborate cloak
out of nothing. He made his trench coat
vanish, and swirled the high-collared garment about him before he clasped
Wong’s hands. “It has been a pleasure,
Wong. I will come back another day,
when I am not so pressed for time.”
“Of course, young master. Good luck in your endeavors, and remember
that not all humans are the enemy of your kind.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Legacy
said. He left the building, and took to
the air, flying with the dark cloak trailing behind him. Arsenal looked after him, disbelievingly,
before activating his own flight circuits to follow. Legacy headed to downtown New York, then for the official
district. At times Arsenal lost sight
of the mutant, but kept on the trail of his mutant signature with Mistress’s
help.

Alighting on a rooftop, Legacy put
his hand to his head, and slowly turned about until he stiffened suddenly. Once again he flew, but this time on an
arrow straight course, directly to the Mayor’s Mansion, landing on a building
diagonal from it. Howie shook his head
inside his helmet. He and his mother
were supposed to have dinner with Mayor Fisk on Thursday. Perhaps he stood a chance of getting out of
the engagement.
Legacy looked to the Mansion, and
then turned around, “And now, we wait, my armored shadow, until dinner time,
and just after.”
Howie started in surprise. He was in stealth mode, how did
Legacy…? “How did you know?”
The mutant tapped his head. “When I searched for… who I’m looking for, I
found you near me. You don’t seem to
want to harm me, so I have no issue with you.
I am curious as to how you could track me when my magic conceals me.”
“One thing at a time, Legacy. What are you doing in the City,” Arsenal
said.
“I am here to rescue a woman from
vile bondage,” Legacy said. “She’s a
mutant and Fisk has her. The things he
has done to her over the years…” A hot
anger infused his accented voice. “I
cannot allow her to remain there another day.”
A mutant? Fisk’s hostess was a mutant?
“Dion…?” Arsenal bit off his words.
“Yes, you do know them socially,
don’t you.?” Legacy said wearily. “Did you ever see her with bruises,
Arsenal? Because, I have. She comes to me in my dreams, sad and afraid,
and sometimes… injured. He hits her, or
lets his associates torment and rape her.
Do you think I can leave her here anymore?”
Howie turned abruptly away from the
mutant. The pain in Legacy’s voice
resonated in his own heart. For as long
as he could remember, he feared the rare occasions that his father Anthony
Stark came home. He didn’t fear for
himself; Tony doted on his only son, but he feared for his mother. Janet Van Dyne-Stark was a beautiful woman,
but she didn’t particularly enjoy being Tony’s wife. There were reasons for that, Howie had discovered with the help
of the Mistress computer. It wasn’t
just Dr. Henry Pym’s untimely death during his engagement to Janet, or the
merciless pressure on her afterwards to marry the young Shield Scion. Nor was it the endless string of
fluffy-headed mistresses that bothered Janet.
No, it was the sporadic bouts of drunken rage and violent beatings that
caused her estrangement from her husband.
Tony was always sorry afterwards,
but that didn’t stop it from happening over and over again. When she threatened to tell the press about
the abuse, Tony moved out of the family mansion to avoid a scandal, preferring
to stay in the seat of power at D.C. with his girl toys. But while he left the Stark Estate to his
wife and son, he refused to give her a divorce, and every so often he held an
affair of state in the City, and required his lovely wife to play hostess. But only Howie and Jarvis, the family
butler, were there for Janet on the mornings after one of Tony’s benders.
“You’re angry, too,” Legacy
said. “A woman you know is being
abused… and you’re powerless to stop it.”
“You get that from my mind?”
Arsenal snapped, turning back to the mutant.
“No, I got that from your
stance. You heard what I said to
Wong. My ‘source’ for telepathy is a
principled man who wouldn’t do anymore than a cursory scan of you,” Legacy said. “However, I know that you’ve followed me
throughout the City, and at the time of my scan, thoughts of hoping to get out
of an unwanted social dinner with Fisk were on the surface of your mind.” He smiled grimly. “Even mutants have Ethics.”
Arsenal ran a gauntleted hand over
his dome helmet. “Is she in there?”
Legacy turned his head a
little. “Yes, she is,” he said, his
voice soft.
“Then why don’t you get her
now? Why wait?”
“I want to wait until she’s gone to
dinner. She doesn’t have much, and I
want to gather what she has.” An
uncertain look came over Legacy’s face.
“There’s something… she needs special care. You probably know more about that than I do. I think it has something to do with her…
ability to touch.”
“Touch? Don’t you know?” Arsenal said.
“We’ve never met in person,” Legacy
said. “Our connection is in our dreams,
and between our souls.”
“How do you know she even wants to
go with you, if she’s never met you?”
Legacy lowered his head, and
sighed. In a near whisper, he said,
“Even if it was all in my mind, I will be satisfied as long as she is free.”
Arsenal considered. “I’ve only seen Dion wear or touch expensive
things; gold, silver, crystal, silk, fine china porcelain, for instance. She seems to avoid touching common materials.” A faint memory surfaced. “Once, Fisk had a Shield tie-pin, and she
brushed it as she straightened his tie.
She winced, and I saw blister on her hand, but when I looked again, it
was gone. The next time I saw Fisk wear
that pin, it had been recast in precious metals.”
“What did the first one look like?”
Legacy said, bright green eyes flashing with interest.
“Ah, it looked like an ordinary
cloisonn� pin,” Arsenal said, and shrugged.
“Enamel on steel.”
“Steel? Cold Iron…?” Legacy muttered.
“That makes a sort of sense…
I’ll wait, not just for her, because I also want to see Mayor
Fisk.” He looked up at the hulking
figure of Arsenal, and his smile was cold.

The lights of the suite they were
watching went out, and Legacy flew over to the Mansion and cautiously
approached the skylight. With a whisper
of gently liquefying metal the window lifted out of the way along with it’s
casing. Arsenal looked on with
awe. Mistress fed him the sensor scans
of the magnetic and gravitic anomalies that accompanied the display. Legacy could have literally torn his armor
apart… but he hadn’t.
He watched as the mutant dropped
lightly inside and turned on the lights.
Bamboo tatami mats concealed the floor, and hardwood paneling lined the
walls. The furniture was both of
natural materials and exquisitely made.
On the foot of the massive wood four-poster bed was a neat stack of
clothing, and a note.
“My darling James,” Legacy read
aloud. “You’ve come at last. I can feel you nearby, as I feel your worry
and anger. But I am more worried about
you. My keeper is a powerful man, in
every sense of the word, and I fear that he will hurt you. These clothes will protect me, and if we are
able, everything else that I really require, is in the carry bag under the
bed. I don’t care about anything else
here, only for you, and our freedom.
Signed, Dion.” Arsenal could
hear the tremors in the other man’s voice.
From the top of the stack of
clothes, Legacy shook out an all encompassing blue-gray cloak, and brought it
to his nose. He breathed in deeply then
picked up the things she’d left out and took them to a window seat below the
open skylight where Arsenal stood. With
a crooked smile, he took out a tiny box and put it on the bare hardwood floor
after moving one the mats out of the way.
With a sweep of his hand it expanded into a large chest. “No need to be deprived, my dear,” he
said. More sweeps of his hands along
with some muttered words that neither Arsenal nor Mistress understood, and the
furnishing and objects in the apartment shivered and began falling into the
chest, shrinking as they went. Dressers,
tables, paneling, the bed and everything else disappeared into the container,
until only the bare walls and floor remained.
Howie was glad that a helmet
concealed his face, because he suddenly noticed his jaw hung open slackly. Legacy shot him a smirk as he re-shrunk the
box and put it back into his pocket.
“Mr. Fisk spared no expense to make her comfortable, in his
fashion. Why shouldn’t I take advantage
of that?”
“No reason, I guess,” Arsenal
said. “It ought to really torque off
Fisk, which is probably your intent.”
“Now, would I do that?” The wide
grin Legacy turned to him seemed a bit on the manic side, but Howie couldn’t
really blame the guy. He settled in to
wait, and watch as Legacy paced the stripped floors. A little under an hour later, the mutant tensed and looked
towards the door, switching off the lights.
Arsenal made sure his stealth was on, and waited with him. It was time for him to decide what side he
was really on… that of Shield, or that of Justice…
In the hall beyond the door they
could hear a deep masculine rumble, and the lighter tones of a young
woman. There seemed to be some
discussion, and then Fisk opened the door and led her in, with his hand
possessively at the small of her back.
Dion was well known to Howie, but Legacy seemed to drink her in. Pale skinned, and waifish in appearance, her
violet eyes and long, glossy black hair gave her an arresting beauty.
Dion’s eyes widened at the sight of
her bare room, and Fisk stood stunned as well.
Legacy stepped from a shadow and pulled her from the Mayor’s loose
grasp, and gave her a little push to the window seat. “Dress,” he said. She did
so without question, while Fisk glared ferociously at the smaller man. Wilson Fisk was an imposing figure, over six
foot, and seemingly as broad as he was tall.
He didn’t look obese so much as he looked… dangerous.
“What is the meaning of this?” Fisk
roared. His meaty hands flexed, and he
lunged at Legacy with surprising speed and grace.
Legacy floated lightly out of his
swipe and with a gesture held him back from Dion. “This is an emancipation, Mr. Fisk. You won’t have my Dion to abuse anymore.”
Fisk struggled against the forces
holding him back, but he had no purchase to use his great strength. “Do you think I will let you take my
property?” he growled. “Yes, I said mine,
bought and paid for, not yours.”
Legacy stared back at him. “I think that you can’t stop me. You may be a big man, but that only helps if
you can catch me.” With a jerk of his hand,
Fisk went sailing out of the open skylight, missing Arsenal by inches.
“Jimmy! You didn’t kill him, did you?” Dion said, with one long opera
glove on, and one still in her hand.
“No, darling. Finish and I’ll show you.” He came to the window and helped her put on
the riding boots over her silk slippers.
He looked completely besmitten, and Howie could absolutely
understand. Instead of the cautiously
neutral expression she usually wore, Dion was flushed with excitement and hope,
completely transforming her from a captive trophy to a treasure of loveliness.
“What?” she said, curious why he
stared at her so.
He touched her face lightly, with
shaking fingers. “You are even more
beautiful than I ever imagined… my best efforts could never come close to conveying
you…”
She gave him an annoyed look and
tossed her long black braid of hair over her shoulder as she fastened the
grayish cloak at her throat and pulled it close around her. “Be serious.”
“I am,” he said simply. He held out his hands. “Come away with me.” She flowed like silk into his arms. He buried his nose into her ebon hair for a
moment then they both flew out of the skylight, cloaked, quite literally, with
magic.
Arsenal tracked them by Mistress’s
Cerebro readings, as they hovered for a while to observe Fisk’s predicament;
the fat man was dangling from a streetlight, the lamp’s arched metal neck was
snaked up one pants leg, and continuing under his clothing, finally sticking
out the collar of his expensive suit jacket.
A crowd was gathering, despite the efforts of Shield patrols, drawn by
Fisk’s outraged bellowing. The sounds
of slowly popping seams could be heard, and Arsenal saw people making furtive
bets about when the finely tailored clothing would give way, plummeting the
mayor to the pavement.
Arsenal was so amused, that
Mistress had to tell him when the two mutants moved on, to the rooftop
diagonally across from the mansion, where they had waited earlier. He followed them and the magical obscurement
was lifted. “Is she all that you came
for?” he asked Legacy.
“Yes, and I’ve just called for a
shuttle to pick us up.” Szardos looked
at him shrewdly. “Why did you really
come out to follow me?”
Arsenal shrugged, “This is my City;
I live here. I didn’t want a powerful
mutant to wreck the place. Not that I
have a problem with mutants… I don’t agree with the way you are being treated,
but no one likes war to come their home.”
“And sometimes one has no choice
but to go to the war,” Legacy said, frowning.
“I’d still be at home in Germany with my tribe if my brother hadn’t been
taken as a Hound. You can’t imagine the
horrible things that Shield does… did there.”
He smiled. “I’m pleased to have
been a part of that raid. Downing the
Carrier was a real blow to Shield.”
Howie frowned. “Well, your blow might have unintended
consequences. My… Innocent people might
get hurt because of it.”
Dion gave him a soft smile. “Janet is a strong woman, Howie. When I attended the ball at the Stark
Mansion, I could tell she was an old hand at dealing with your father’s
excesses.”
Legacy stared at her, and Howie
sputtered. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,
Miss, but I’m not who you think I am.
She laughed like tinkling
bells. “I’m an Empath, Mr. Stark. You are Howard Stark the second, and I’ve
danced with you, and enjoyed it.”
Legacy frowned and she turned back to him. “Don’t be jealous, love.
It was rare enough that I was able to spend time with a gentleman who
didn’t regard me as a piece of meat. Howie
may be human, but he’s one of the good guys.”
Legacy, nodded reluctantly. “Wong said not all humans are enemies.” He raised his chin and stuck his hand out.
Howie looked at it, and reached up
to take off his helmet.
<Caution,> Mistress said in his ear, <your intended action is
inadvisable…> He ignored her and
tucked the dome helm under his left arm, took off his right glove, and shook
the proffered hand, flesh to flesh.
“Howie Stark,” he said with a smile,
“since we weren’t formally introduced.”
He rubbed his matted down hair and made a rueful face.
“Jimmy Szardos, but I bet you
already knew that,” Jimmy said. “And
this is Dion…”
“…Stevens, soon to be
Szardos.” Jimmy grinned foolishly at
her words, while she held her hand out to Howie. He took her gloved fingers gently and bestowed a light kiss on
them.
<Gravitic aircraft vectoring
in,> they all heard Mistress say from the radio at Howie’s collar.
“Almost at yer location, Legacy,”
said a gruff voice from a comm. unit on Jimmy’s belt. “And I gotta tell ya kid, yer folks sure ain’t happy with ya.”
“I think that’s your cue, Howie,”
Dion said, but he was already putting his armor pieces back on.
“Good luck to you,” he said to
Jimmy and Dion both.
“And to you,” Jimmy said.
Arsenal nodded and took off as the
shuttle swooped in, bending light around it in a manner similar to the method
his armor employed. He cloaked and held
position off the edge of the roof as a short hairy man came out of the vehicle,
and sniffed the air like a beast. Oops,
the Wolverine. Guess it really was time
for him to go. He turned away from
them, and started the flight back home.
“How’s it going at the Mansion?” he asked Mistress.
<Mr. Jarvis is looking for
you. It seems that your father had
scarcely arrived before he was called away… unexpectedly.>
“Gee, I wonder why?” Howie said
sarcastically. The City patrols were on
high alert, so he diverted to the river, and traveled under the streets until
he reached the Submersible dock feeding the water systems that were an integral
part of Mistress. Quickly he got on the
dais and backed the armor into the support clamps and stepped out of it as soon
as it opened. He took off the helm and
gloves, doused his head in water, and changed into his regular clothes. Slipping though the concealed panel while
dragging a comb through his hair, he entered the upper basement workshops where
his family thought he spent his time.
Howie heard Edwin Jarvis call for
him, and wished again that he could tell the loyal servant what he was really
up to down here…
“Jarvis?” he called back. “Sorry, I was just using some equipment, and
I didn’t hear you.”
The balding man came up to him and
gripped his arms in relief. “I wish you
wouldn’t leave the upper basements without notice, young sir. If something happened, how could we find
you?”
“Excuse me?” Howie answered, his
heart pounding in his chest.
Jarvis gave him a stern look. “I was a young man then, but I was here when
your grandfather and namesake constructed these chambers, Mr. Stark. I know there are far more rooms down here
than these. Ordinarily I wouldn’t say
anything, but your mother has been very concerned today.”
Howie shook his head. “I should’ve known I couldn’t fool you…”
The butler looked slightly
smug. “Certainly not, young sir. But we’ll talk about that later. Your mother wants to talk to you about what
she heard happened today.”
“And I’ll give you a tour later,
right?” Howie said
Jarvis just smiled back, and
accompanied him to the elevator.

Dinner was quiet at the Stark
Mansion. By the time Howie or his
mother were served dessert, Tony would have begun to get roaring drunk, if he’d
been with them. “Pleasant night, isn’t
it, Mom?” he said.
“Indeed,” she said. She looked down the table at him levelly. “I wish you would try to get along with your
father better. Just because I have… issues
with him, doesn’t mean that you should.”
“Mom… he never sees you cry. I do,” he said. “I have never heard him apologize to you, and I won’t forgive him
until he does.”
“He’s the only father you have,”
she said, sighing. “It’s important for
a boy to have a father.”
Howie sighed. “Mom, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a
boy anymore.”
“A man does more than play about in
workshops,” she said. “A man fights for
what he believes in.”
He smiled. “Just because you haven’t heard about it,
doesn’t mean I haven’t been doing just that.”
Janet narrowed her eyes as she
finished her dessert.
Jarvis appeared in the doorway of
the dinning room with a concerned expression, shortly before the master of the
house entered the room.
“Darling,” Tony Stark said to Janet. “I hate to spoil your plans for the evening,
but duty calls. I have to go back to
D.C. tonight.” He crossed the room to
her side, and kissed the air very near to her cheek. “Please try to contain your disappointment,” he said with subdued
sarcasm.
“I will try to manage without you,”
she said coolly. “Howie? Speak to your father.”
Howie stood. “Goodnight Father,” he said, trying to think
of something… neutral to say. “It won’t
be the same without you.”
“I’ll just bet it won’t.” Tony didn’t attempt to approach his son,
with good reason, Howie thought, as he struggled to unclench his fists. Civility was so… difficult sometimes. “I must take you with me sometime,
Howie. Give you a taste of real power.”
Howie gave a bark of laughter. “Trust me father, I have all the power I can
manage right here.”
A look of confusion crossed Tony’s
face, before he gave a genial nod to his wife, and turned away. Howie smirked at his back, and shared a look
with Jarvis.

Janet sipped her champagne, and
noted the dynamics of the others. There
was something interesting going on in her home, and she meant to find out just
what it was…

A/N: I try to ground my fiction on solid foundations… Here’s the reference research I did for this
chapter.
About the Stark Mansion: -- (
http://www.marveldirectory.com/misc/avengermansion.htm ). See the info on Sub-Basement Level Two.
About the Arsenal(s): -- ( http://www.marvunapp.com/Appendix3/arsenal.htm
). Heh, I have the
Avengers with the first appearance of Beta…
About Mistress: -- ( http://www.marvunapp.com/Appendix2/mistressarsenal.htm
). …and the Mistress.
About Dr. Strange: -- (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dr._Strange
). Some of Strange’s artifacts fall
into Legacy’s hands this chapter.
About Wong: -- (
http://www.marveldirectory.com/individuals/w/wong.htm ). More to this fellow than I thought, and I
used to collect Dr. Strange comics.

Tony was going to be a butthole in these stories even before
the “Civil War” storyline came out in the comics. Without Vietnam (or other Asian Wars), and with the seduction of
power that Shield offers to the elite, a socialite like him had no motivation
to get into science, or to fight injustice.
Ironically enough, he provides the motivation for his son to take on the
role of the Iron Man in my universe.
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The Circle And The Flame