The Ides of July // Loki - Book 1 ✓

Chapter 9: Under Pressure

TONY STARK'S eyes fly open as he jerks himself upright, his body coated in a layer of sweat. The room is dark, and it takes his eyes a moment to adjust while he attempts to regain his bearings. Next to him, he lets his hand wander to the side of the bed normally occupied by Pepper Potts, his girlfriend extraordinaire, who is on a business trip in New York City.

Probably better if she isn't here to witness another restless night of non-stop nightmares. He'd already terrified her enough, and she certainly didn't deserve any of it.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, exhaling loudly.

"Jarvis, what time is it?" He asks, his voice strained.

"Good morning, sir," his artificially intelligent accomplice Jarvis replies on one of the house's many built-in speakers. "It's 4:52AM. Trouble sleeping again?"

"I'm not sure you can call it that, considering I haven't slept in three days," Tony replies. "What comes after 'insomniac'?"

"Perhaps I should call a doctor, sir," Jarvis suggests. "Miss Potts would not like--"

"No," Tony cuts him off. "No doctor, no Pepper. Nobody needs to know. I'll be fine in a few days."

Tony swears he can hear Jarvis sigh, but he chooses to ignore it.

"Very well, sir," Jarvis says.

Swinging his legs out of bed so his feet land on the cool hardwood floor, Tony takes a moment to rest his head in his hands. The nightmares were more or less the same as every other night, Tony flying through the wormhole and into the unknown where the entire Chitauri fleet awaits. His heart told him there was more to it, that the Chitauri were only the first, but no one else understood.

How could they? They hadn't seen what he saw through the wormhole. Tony knew they weren't ready to face whatever was out there. Hell, they'd barely survived the Chitauri. Thor's brother Loki, god of mischief that he is, did more than ravage Manhattan with the attack. He tore a hole into Tony Stark's psyche.

"Jarvis, lights please," Tony says, interrupting his train of thought while he stands. "And music."

Gentle recessed lighting fades on across the room as Tony grabs a fresh t-shirt from his drawer and pulls it over his head. He grabs yesterday's slacks from where he left them on the floor the night before, sticking his leg into them, as "Under Pressure" by Queen featuring David Bowie comes on throughout the house.

"Aren't you a funny one," he snarls at Jarvis, "Very subtle. Ha. Ha. Ha."

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he slides it into his back pocket before exiting the room. The smart lights dim as he exits, and his path in the hallway is illuminated above him as he makes his way down to the kitchen. The floor is cool under his feet, and he can feel his body temperature begin to lower as he kicks himself into activity.

Ironically, keeping himself busy is the only way Tony can relax. The more time he has alone with his genius brain, the more time he has to (significantly) overthink everything. Ergo, less stopping, more going. More distractions.

He flings open a cabinet, retrieving a coffee cup and placing it under the coffee machine. Jabbing his forefinger against the LCD touchscreen, he selects "espresso" and waits for it to fill his cup. Once the machine kicks off - which it does when the cup is only a fifth of the way full - Tony grabs the cup and tosses back the espresso. He slides the cup back onto the machine, this time selecting "coffee" while he moves to the fridge and grabs himself a container of milk.

Usually, Pepper insists that Tony eats a "nutritious" breakfast - whatever the hell that means - but she's out of town, so he pours himself an ample serving of Lucky Charms and douses it with milk. Balancing his coffee in the crook of his arm, he begins shoveling it into his mouth as he heads out of the kitchen and downstairs to his workshop.

"Sir?" Jarvis' voice interrupts the music, which is now playing "Sympathy for the Devil" by The Rolling Stones. "Sir, there's something you should see."

Tony sighs, carefully depositing his coffee mug on the workbench as he plops down into his chair. He swivels toward the television on the wall, still eating his cereal, and kicks his feet up on the desk.

"Go ahead," he tells Jarvis.

The screen flickers to life, and news footage of a busy street flashes in front of his eyes. The news anchor is speaking in Turkish, and a spark of recognition in Tony's face causes his feet to drop to the floor as he shoves his cereal bowl onto the work table.

"Translate," Tony says abruptly to Jarvis, his brown eyes glued to the screen.

In an instant, the news woman's voice is replaced with an instantaneous English translation of her broadcast.

"...killed at a cafe in near Sultanahmet today in a random shooting by American billionaire Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man," the translation says dispassionately. "It has been discovered that the man was a Syrian general who defected from Bashar al-Assad's regime and took refuge in Turkey. Sources have yet to reveal why Iron Man targeted the refugee, who had no known ties to terrorism, and an official investigation has commenced."

The broadcast continues, replaying the same images of the busy street in Istanbul, but Tony no longer comprehends the translated words. His eyes gloss over as he stares at the screen, remembering the sights from where he was the day before, the same street he's seeing now cordoned off by crime scene tape.

Slowly, Tony inhales and runs a hand over his mouth.

"What the hell is happening, Jarvis?"

"It appears there's been a mistake, sir," Jarvis replies warily.

Now Playing: "Under Pressure" by Queen ft. David Bowie & "Sympathy for the Devil" by The Rolling Stones.