Swiftly Told Tales (Taking Prompts/ Requests!)

Endless Days (Tony Stark)

This is now on hiatus, so I thought I'd redirect it's location from individual upload to nestled well into my short stories! Will be continued when I can find the concentration :D

*WROTE THIS BEFORE CIVIL WAR AND LIKE DAMN </3 NOT ALL TOO DIFFERENT </3*

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Titanium encased fingers claw helplessly on the ruined rubble of the street. Suit scrapping with each pull and shift as he tries to slug away from the charcoal chaos that lays wasted around him.

He tries the com unit again, swallowing thickly. "Iron Man asking for immediate assistance; anyone copy?" Out of breath and wide eyed as he half glances behind him where red and blue studiously winds through the city's destruction, shucking off a smearing of blood from the shoe shined shield that's been the last image of many this death embracing day.

Echoing combat boots crunch, no haste or hurry in the fatal approach, steadily following in that assassins rhythm on broken asphalt. "Its too late for that, Stark." Calculated yet indifferent, noting nothing but an end to his mission.

The other man coughs abruptly, back curling in as dust breezes away from his anguished huffs for crimson clotted air. "Come on, Wing-Head," Blood stained lips spit slowly, equally fighting for breath and words. "This isn't you; You're compromised."

The super assassin says nothing--does nothing, but strides in unperturbed steps along the bloody broken trail left behind. Red and gold paint of the suit stripped to colour the dirtied cement Tony struggles on.

Panting as he heaves his burdened weight forward, mechanics groaning in protest as lights flicker, but with the helmet long ago ripped off him and a threatening slash still sizzling thats torn through the armour, cutting open his back, he doesn't do anything but ignore the angles of his anguished legs and keeps inching forward.

There's dirt in his eyes, flavouring his tongue, trying to clear it to again uselessly call in on comms, but instead he yells in anguish as a super strengthened foot stomps on his hand and he hears the shink of the shield simultaneously unslotting from its place on Steve's back.

The statistics flashing to the forefront of Tony's mind as the bones of his hands crunch and twist with the metal of the gauntlet, figuring a fifteen percent chance of ever getting full dexterity back--but something more terrifying echoes that the hope he had been so feverishly clinging to, that he fucking had for not yet an hour, may be nearing it's end.

That the terrorizing torture, the humiliation on the hunt, the deception on the run, miscommunication bleeding from their bones and the spiteful, insightful recovering, may be over just as the war that ended three days earlier.

And that by the time Steve comes to, it'll be to Tony's shattered skull leaking across the pavement and splattered on the prestigous Captain's unscathed face.

Tony's body rolls without his consent, done so by the same hands that had once stitched him back together, now pushes him over, face up to his brutal demise. "You are formally discharged from duty, Anthony Stark."

Theres no time to act in self-defence, no last minute words for aid, to recall long lost memories--a life times worth of tumultuous fights against rogue gods, invasive aliens, misguided humans, and each other. There are no looks of flickering recognition or once love, it's blank and impassive. Not a crack in the mask as Captain America stands tall over Tony's prone battered body and doesn't even flinch as Tony does just that with the swinging blow that connects cleanly across his....

He drifts struggling to accept the outcome that pitted the wrath of the comprised Captain America against him. Caught in his last reverie, he scrounges to escape the clouding darkness that's encased him since this political storm rolled through the Stark manner. Begging to slip into a peaceful state reminded of the good times, only to be re-struck by the announced and manipulated war that hit him full force off his feet.

Lastly caught in the light of enchanting white as he scrounges for his last moments of life to reminisce back to the beginning of this tragically tangled death after so many countlessly endless days.

Coughing up thick crimson from lungs to lips; his gaze sharpens on that sweaty smoked pale skin, sweeping sun yellow hair and ocean blue eyes snapping back to life and away from that dull, dead state that once consumed Tony, too. Leaving Steve deserted as Tony's announced deceased outside the restaurant he hates most in this world; fucking Ronald McDonalds house.

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Random Question: Whats your favourite Marvel film? 

Thanks for reading! :)