Black Eagle - "The Watchmen of the West"

"Sir, I detect a spike in Mr. Armstrong's brain activity. It appears he is awakening."


Tony stood up and set the wrench on the workbench. "Better go break the news to him." Walking to the door, he started to head up the stairs.

Boom! 
 The sound shuddered the walls. The lights flickered
.

He froze. "Uhh, transformer blow??"


"Negative, sir. It appears as though Mr. Armstrong didn't find the accommodations to his liking. He tore the Regeneration Cradle in half." 


"Uh, oh!" Slipping a metal band onto his wrist, he held out his arms. "Gimme Mark 10."


With the crash of breaking glass, the suit flew out and snapped around. Jumping into the air, he flew up the staircase. As he approached the door, he ordered. "Door code and phrase, override!" 


"Passcode over-rided." 


As the door opened, a crate crashed into his helmet. 


"What the-"


Another bounced off his chest and broke on the floor. 


"Looks like somebody woke up on the wrong side of the cradle." He muttered as he ducked he next crate and extended an arm, thruster glowing. 


Armstrong vanished. 


"Where did he-" 


Arms locked around his neck from behind, throwing him across the room. 


"That was excessive." He groaned as he stood up and stepped around the corner.


Armstrong stood there, wings draping on the floor and eyes wild like an animal. The moment Tony appeared, he ripped the IV needle from his arm and gripped it like an ice pick.


"Whoa, take it easy there, Big Guy." He admonished. "Take a minute, let all it soak in." 


"What am I doin' here?" He asked, his baritone voice both shaky and fierce. 


"You're actually supposed to be in that," He pointed to the severed Cradle. "Healing. You know, you're gonna have to explain this to the good doctor who fixed you up." 


He stared at him, through the eye slits of his suit, seemingly through his soul. "I figured. Whadda you want with me?"


"I don't know. What do you do? Circus performer? Flight instructor? Assassin?"


His jaw tightened. 


"Oh, just so you know, I currently got all your armor and weapons, so don't lie and tell me it's one of the first two." 


For a long moment, he stared in silence before finally replying, "I'm not an assassin. 'Xactly."
 

"Then why," Tony snapped his fingers at the screen. An Image flashed up in full color. "This ink on your back? Hm?"


Something awoke in those dark brown eyes. He stared at it, jaw working and nostrils flaring. 


"Seems I've touched a nerve."


After another moment of glaring at the image, he moved his eyes away to stare at the floor. "Was meant to be an assassin. But I broke out. Been doin' my own thing for a while."


"Meant to be?" He snapped back his visor.


"They - created me. HYDRA."


"I swear, every time you speak, I only hear more questions instead of answers. But," He stepped forward, "I think we can both agree you need to lay down?"


Armstrong stepped back, eyeing him. The second after he bolted to the door. 


Tony shot a blast of energy after him. 


He ducked it without even looking. Ripping the door off it's hinges, he raced away.

 "@$@$! it." 


"I wouldn't worry sir." JARVIS assured him. "His adrenaline levels are already plummeting."


"Guess I better go catch him before he faints." With a sigh, he strode out into the hall. 


Armstrong slumped against the wall, trying to stumble on but instead sinking lower to the floor.


"Ok, I gotcha ya." He stepped up beside him and looped an arm under his back. 


The wings stiffened as he leaned away. "I got it." He coughed. 


"Don't kid yourself, you do not. Now C'mon." 


Reluctantly, he leaned on Tony's shoulder. 


He grunted as he supported him and helped him hobble back into the room. "Man, you're heavy."


No vocal response, just a distrustful glare. 


"Now where am I gonna put you?" He scanned the wrecked room a moment, then nodded to himself. "Alright," he lowered him to a sitting position on the floor, back to the wall. "Just chill here for a minute."


Armstrong nodded, breathing heavy. Stretching out one hand, he braced against the wall and bowed his head. 


"Feelin' that adrenaline crash?" Tony asked as he rearranged the crates and the net. 


"Uh huh." 


"Lemme clean up your mess and then I'll put you back to bed." 


He worked in a frenzy for a few minutes, repairing and rehanging the net, lining it with fluffiest pillows and blankets he could find. Using the creates and tables, he constructed a base and steps up to the net.


"Ok," He walked back over. "Ready? One, two three - up!" 


Armstrong only grunted as he helped him up and then guided up the steps. With another grunt of pain, he crawled into the net and lay down, face rested on a pillow. 


"There, comfy?"
 He nodded, biting his lip. 


"Good." Stepping away, he gathered the pill bottles that weren't broken and arranged them on the closest table. "Now just relax. And don't close the wings." 


Silence.

He glanced up at Armstrong.
 His shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths. His eyes darted around the room, constantly sweeping. 


"Take it easy." Quickly, he disengaged his gauntlets. "Deep breaths, there, Archangel." 


"Ain't no angel." 


"Ain't ain't a word." He countered, as he pulled a syringe from the critical care kit. "And, so far, there's no absolute proof that you're not." 


"What you doin'?"


He grimaced, but kept his tone bright as he filled the syringe from the bottle.

"Hey, I've gotta keep you in one piece somehow. Since you don't seem to be very good at it." 
 He half turned, flicking the needle out of sight. "I don't think I properly introduced myself."


Armstrong's eyes were locked on him, as through trying to see through him.

"I know who you are."


"Oh, really?" He tucked the needle along his hand and walked back over. "You read the magazines or the news?"


His eyes followed him. "Manifest in a cache of stolen grenade launchers in 2011. And the news." 


Tony's face sank. "You think I'm an arms dealer."


Armstrong closed his eyes, as though bracing against a wave of pain. "Arms dealer - and arms maker - two different things." 


"I'm actually an Avenger now, so . . ." He pulled the needle out and found a vein in his arm.


"Saw that - on the news." 


"Yeah," He injected him, quick as he could. "Count back from fifty for me would, ya?"


He flinched, eyes flying open and breaths quickening. "Scumbag!" He hissed through gritted teeth. 


"Yeah? Well, it is what it is." He pulled the needle out. "Better start counting. And close your eyes."


He glared for a moment, then closed his eyes. "Fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight . . ."


He made it to thirty-nine before his voice slurred away. His head slumped over. 


"Nigh-night." Tony huffed in relief. "JARVIS, let's get me out of this thing. Then we'll tell Doc the bad news." He hurried out the door. 


Minutes later, he returned, cell phone to his ear.


She picked up as he sat down and rubbed his forehead.
 "Mr. Stark? I didn't expect you to call so soon."


He grimaced. "Yeah, didn't expect to either but, uh, we've got a problem."
 

 . . . An Hour later . . .


Rhodey strode up Tony, who knelt in the doorway bolting hinges to the wall. "Tony, what the-"


He looked up. "Hey, pal! Good to seen you too." 


"Came as soon as I got your text. You ok?"


"Yeah, but this room as seen better days." He stood up with a grunt. "The way he just ripped it apart was something to see."

He reached for the new door. 


"Here, let me give you hand with that." 


Together, they set up the new door. When Tony bolted the last screw into place, they stepped back and surveyed their work.


Rhodey nodded. "Good as new." 


Tony shrugged. "It will do." Swinging it to and fro, he nodded and shut it. "Doc, how's he doing?"


Helen looked up from where she stood by the net. "He's stable and sedated. But I'm glad I hadn't gotten far. Had to reconstruct some of the delicate joints again." 


As they walked over to her, Rhodey shook his head. "How is this dude this strong?"


Tony shrugged. "Same way Cap is." 


"You think?"


Helen nodded. "It's very similar, yes. But it appears whatever was given him was more focused, trying to initiate particular mutations, altering certain sections of his DNA while only enhancing other sections."


"Yeah, I noticed." He walked down towards his feet. "Especially the feathers and the scaly soles deal with his feet." 


"Yes, fascinating, isn't it?" She joined him. "It's like they focused the mutation so they he would develop certain bird-like features needed for flight, while leaving out others."


Tony grimaced, eyes sweeping over the screens. "Don't think we should describe anybody's feet as 'fascinating'."


She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."


"So, how does this incident mess with the month-long plan?"


She turned to him. "I think it's best he's kept under a sedative until the delicate parts are fully repaired. Everything else stays on the original timetable, with absolutely NO flying." 


"I agree, for everyone's - and everything's - safety. And, I'll cut a check for the Cradle." 


"Oh, no need, Mr. Stark, I can repair it back at my lab in Seoul."


"No, I insist. He, while under my care, did the deed and I, as the responsible adult who has money and insurance, need to pay for damages." He faced her, expression determined. "HM?"


After a moment, she sighed. "I'll send you a bill." 


"Deal." 


A phone beeped. 


Tony patted his pants. "JARVIS?"


"Not yours, sir." 


"It's me." Rhodey checked the screen. "Tony, got a minute?"


He squinted at him. "Sure . . ."


As they walked out, Rhodey nodded down the hall. "Can we talk in your office?"


"I'd prefer the garage. I think better when I'm working." 


Once they reached it and shut the doors, Rhodey turned to him. "I took that anti-tank shell to a buddy of mine. Retired but specializes in in high-caliber rounds, missiles and other arsenal."


He nodded, opening a schematic on the computer screen. "And?"


"He just texted me back. That round, was from a batch made a contract company for the Russian government." 


He closed his project. "Ok, that's not good." 


"And it gets worse. That batch of rounds was stolen while being shipped to an army base. No was ever arrested or took responsibility for the theft."


"So anyone could have shot down Armstrong?"
 He shrugged.

"Been going through my contacts, making some calls. I'll let you know what I find out. My point is, Tony, you really need to turn this guy in." 


"To who?" He challenged. "Who can I trust? The Feds? Nope, they'll just lock him up somewhere to rot. SHIELD? Fury? Too many secrets. There's something fishy going on there." 


"You can't keeping hiding him here!"


"Sure I can! I managed to diffuse the press about the crass. Claimed it was a test flight gone wrong, which technically it was. Doctored or erase all the security footage - How else is anybody gonna know he's here?"


"But that's the thing, you won't know. Until they're all over you."


"I'll take my chances." He rested a hand on his shoulder. "But thanks for lookin' out."


He nodded. "I'll let you know if I find anything else." 


"See ya! Thank for coming down." 


As Rhodey left, Tony turned and reopened the screens. "JARVIS, let's pause my little project. Time to put on our Sherlock Holmes and figure this out." 



 . . . Two Days Later. . .
 


The rain pattered gently on the windows of the garage as Tony rubbed his blood-shot eyes. "JARVIS, how we doin' buddy?"


"Almost completed the render, sir."


"Cool. After that, I might put the pause on it again. Take a nap. Or maybe eat? I don't know."


"Both would probably be a good idea, sir."


He nodded. 


Another screen flashed over the display. "Sir, there's another surge in Mr. Armstrong's brain activity." 


"Oh goodie!" He studied the video feed. "Hopefully he doesn't rip everything apart again."


On the screen, Armstrong's arm jerked and he lifted his head. 


"Open the video and audio feeds to the Nest, please."


"You are go, sir." 


Clearing his throat, he stepped out of view of his projects. "Let's try this again, shall we?"


Armstrong's head snapped around, expression stony but eyes uneasy.


"Hey! Up here, on the big screen." He waved.


He glanced up, then nodded. "Hey." 


"Hi! Bet you feel a groggy right now." 

"Yeah-" He tensed. "You had me drugged?"


"Sorry, yeah. Thought it would be best until the little tiny parts of your wings healed. And, last time you were awake, you showed some very violent tendencies, so . . ."


His jaw tightened. "How long was I out?" 


"Two days, three hours, fourteen minutes and 34.7 seconds. And, don't worry, I cleaned up everything from your little tantrum." 


His face sank. "Sorry, wasn't ready to wake up in a lab."


"Not a lab." He corrected, pointing a finger. "Your bedroom. And it's ok, should've expected it from a guy with your military background. And your super-strength - wow! What's your secret? Lots of spinach?"


The corner of his mouth twitched, like it tried to smile. "Had my fair share, I guess." 


"Speaking of spinach, I bet you're starving, right?"


"I could eat."


"Cool. Lemme clean up here and I'll order us something." He glanced at him. "You like burgers?"


He shrugged. "Sure." 


Thirty minutes later, Tony climbed up into his net, fast food bags full and fragrantly warm. "Ok, here we go." 


Armstrong eyed him from where he reclined, all propped up with pillows and wings sprawled out. 
 Tony nodded. "I see you made yourself a little nest?"


"Yeah." 


"Welp, this is for you." He held a bag. "Gotcha a variety, wasn't sure what you'd like." 


"Thanks." Taking the bag, he opened it and pulled out the burger. Ripping aside the wrapper, he bit into it like a starving wolf. 


Tony cocked an eyebrow at him, amused and sympathetic all at once. "You're welcome." Wedging the cup holder into the webs of the netting, he unwrapped his own burger. "There's water for you, coke's for me. Figured better not give you too much sugar right off the bat." 

After a moment of eating in silence, he glanced up, nodding. "Thanks." 
 

"Of course, can't let you starve."


A couple minutes ticked by as they ate. They didn't speak, but occasionally exchanged glances. Tony's curious, inspecting but friendly. Armstrong's wary, keen but non-threatening. 


Finally, Tony took a sip of water and cleared his throat. "So . . . you mentioned HYDRA the other day. Don't know if anybody's filled you in post-thaw, but they went out of business in the 40s."


His brows furrowed. "Post-thaw?" 


"Wow. They really did turn you loose with clean slate, didn't they?"


He shook his head. "Never made it to the Freezer, if that's what yer talkin' 'bout."


"The Freezer?"


"Where they're gonna store me 'til ready to use me. Never knew where it was. But everyone called it the Freezer."


"So, you've been wandering around for seventy years?"


He glanced up, brows furrowing even more as he hesitantly chewed and swallowed. "No . . .?"


Tony paused, burger almost to his mouth. "Did you not hear the part where HYDRA went down in 40's with Hitler??"

He finished off the last of the chicken before replying, "Guess they didn't git 'em all." 


He dropped his burger. "I'm sorry, what?"