Chapters For the longest time her world consisted of a single, shifting veil of darkness. She whirled through blackness and silence, through howling winds that seemed to resemble voices and gunshot fire. She couldn't care less though. Everything was pain for her. It consumed her, body, mind and soul. She wanted to scream out but no noise would come, or maybe it did, she did not know.
Her hands came shakily up to her chest, as that was where most of the pain seemed to be coming from. In her current state she barely noticed the feel of something wet, and slightly sticky on her fingertips. But notice she did. She lifted on hand uncertainly up to her swimming vision. They were stained with dirt, and grime and... something else. Something red.
Blood.
Her blood.
A lot of her blood.
Her brain processed this new information slowly, sluggishly. Like someone had filled it with lead, or foam. When it finally clicked, she gave an almost hysterical giggle of laughter at her own foolishness. Clearly she had been injured. How? She couldn't remember any more. All that existed was the red on her fingers and the pain in her chest, a pain she reasoned, that would most likely prove fatal.
She let her hand fall to her side as she stared at what she could assume was the sky, though she wasn't sure any more; so immersed was she in a world of darkness and white noise. Her eyelids suddenly felt heavy. She smiled sleepily as she allowed them to slide closed.
She awoke screaming and writhing in agony. Her eyes were sharp and alert now as they flickered around her surroundings. There were bright lights that bored holes into the backs of her retina's. There was the harsh whine of some kind of surgical device that was being prepared. Voices were yelling at each other in some language she either didn't know or care to understand.
She bucked against whatever she was resting on, only to discover her arms and legs had been bound to whatever surface she lay on. She struggled against the straps, every nerve in her body on fire, spiralling from the overpowering sensation of agony in her heart.
She had never in her life wished or prayed for death but if she could now would be a welcome time for death to take her to some form of sweat release. It was too much, too much for her to bare. She screamed so loud that she thought she might tear at her throat.
Someone moved behind her head. She barely registered the motion so fixed was she on getting loose, getting free. The figure placed a gas-mask over her face. There was a loud squeak as a nozzle was turned and she breathed in something that wasn't air. She felt suddenly sleepy once again. Her screams petered out to low murmurs, and the pain dulled in her chest, her eyelids falling heavily shut once more...
When she finally came too for a second time, she was still consumed in considerable pain. Actually, that was a lie. There was pain and then there was this . This excruciating agony the swarmed her from the inside out. It felt like her heart was going to explode in her chest. There were no words to describe the pain that corkscrewed around her body and head. She would have opened her mouth and cried in agony if she could formulate a coherent thought in her brain, but everything seemed to have shut down. Her head was filled with pain and not a lot else.
After what seemed like an eternity the notion came to her that someone was talking, though it was muted under the screaming that her brain was doing as she felt every moment of suspended pain. The words weren't important as long as she felt this pain in her heart and chest.
Her eyelids finally seemed to be operational once more as they flickered open. They presented her with nothing of immediate interest, or so her pain fogged brain seemed to think before the information her eyes were sending it finally processed properly. It was the insides of a rough, scratchy sack, some hot light on her face from beyond. Her mind sharpened slightly as she realised this. Her eyes flicked around her head, confirming what she already suspected.
There was a sack on her head. She would have bit her lip if her pain filled mind would allow such a manoeuvre. Instead she decided to focus on her hearing. She really didn't like what she heard.
"... very much alive," a voice was saying. An accented voice. Bad Land's maybe? Or maybe it was Saddle Arabian? Suddenly the sack was tugged from her head and she hissed as another level of pain was layered on top of her already agonized mind as she was nearly blinded. She screwed her eyes up, twisting her head away from the light, trying to lift a hand to shield her face. It was at this moment she realised that her hands were bound behind her back. A rough hand tugged on her chin and forced her to look straight ahead.
She opened her eyes slowly as she got her first real look at where she was.
A cave. A roughly hewn tunnel deep in some boiling hot mountainside somewhere, given by the temperature around her and the sweat on her body. The rocky walls were of some strange, yellowish rock she didn't recognise with crude light fixtures hammered into place. Wires were stapled to the walls to avoid them straggling on the floor. Pointing at her face was a battered video-camera.
Standing around her, dressed in combat fatigues and masks were soldiers of some description. There was no identifiable flag marked on any of them. They all shared a common symbol though, even if it was not a recognised flag. A snarling purple dragon's head snorting emerald green flames. IN each of their hands they held formidable weapons of warfare. She should know. She designed half, no scratch that, all of them.
How? How had they got their hands on her weapons? She racked her brain for some kind of contract or business deal with a company or organisation that bared their symbol but she cam up blank. She had never sold her weapons to anyone other than the Equestrian military anyway. How had these people go their hands on them? What were they anyway? Her rescuers? Her allies? She knew better than that. No one would bind someone like she had been and stuff a sack over their face if they were friendly. One word sprang to mind to describe these people.
Terrorists. Yes, that was certainly the word she would use to describe these people. The perfect word even.
The same voice from before spoke again.
"As you can clearly see, we would not lie about such things. Like I said before, your celebrated mass-murderer is still among the living, and will continue to be so until we see fit. She will not be freed. Ever."
Given her current state of mind, it was impressive how quickly she pieced things together. She was in the hands of some terrorist organisation in a foreign country outside of Equestria. They were attempting to validate her identity and vitality though a video which they appeared to be making for someone back in Equestria. Someone high up too. And given what had just been said, the video was not making ransom demands of any kind. It was a warning. A threat.
She gulped - a difficult manoeuvre given her current physical state - as she realised the implications of what that meant. She was about to be put to work. Forced to build more weapons like the ones that they already had. New weapons. Dangerous weapons.
The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. She was about to help this group of fiends declare war on the country she had sought to protect. Her head swam, unable to load anything else, her chest began to throb again, her vision fading to black. As she sat there in the darkness, all she could think of was a single word.
How?
63 hours earlier...
The young woman stepped through the various individuals gathering in the lobby of the sheik hotel as they talked about things that mostly contained subtext all about themselves. All of them seemed to have some kind of drink in their hand and she was no exception, holding a cocktail glass filled with a strange blue concoction with a slice of lime in it, though she would have much preferred a nice cold glass of her favourite beer in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. Still she had to make do with what she had she supposed.
She looked around the lobby as she took another sip of her alcoholic beverage, admiring the décor. Not that she really cared or anything. It was cool she guessed, but her condo in Cloudsdale was much more impressive by far in her own personal tastes. There was more practical style to her home than the needless sprucing up here in this hotel. In her own modest (who was she kidding she was as far from modest as anyone could get) opinion, the decorations of the building needed to be at least twenty percent cooler to hold a candle to her own home.
Iris Stark set her now empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter with a passing motion. She hated attending these kind's of events. They more often than not ended with her having to carry three heavy and useless trophies to her car, drop them in the boot and have her driver take her back home, as she'd most likely be too drunk to walk straight.
Still that didn't mean she had the excuse to not look awesome. Her prismatic hair was tied into at the end into a ponytail that came down to the middle of her back, but still leaving an attractive fringe to fall over her magenta eyes. Her attire consisted of a cyan blue ballroom dress that had a single thick strap that came over her right shoulder, the hem coming down to her left ankle on the left leg, but stopping about knee high on the right, giving the dress an interesting balance. The hem had a fluffy white edge to it, like clouds.
The dress had cost her a bit of a pretty penny, but Iris didn't care about costs. When your name was Iris Stark, costs no longer mattered. It didn't matter if it was a car she wanted, new gym equipment, more tools for her workshop or someone to enjoy a good romp in the bedroom for the evening. All she had to do was mention her name and things practically fell into her lap. A smile played across her face as she remembered how easy she had her life, how she was more often than not the centre of attention, not only for her brilliant mind, but for her stunning looks and often outrageous behaviour. The press just ate it up. Iris wasn't afraid of anything they might print on her. There wasn't a single black mark they could use against her after all.
Well asides from the obvious.
Iris ran an engineering and weapons company named Stark Industries, a company that had been made many years before by her father, Harold Stark. Her father sadly had passed away when she was nineteen, leaving the company in the hands of Iris' mother, Susan, for a short while. Iris had, two years later, inherited the company when she turned twenty one and continued the work her father had begun, using her own genius mind to keep producing weapons and technologies that would be used to protect Equestria, its people and its soldiers. She had of course heard various nick-names and slanderous titles being used to describe her but they didn't phase her in the slightest. To her there weren't any ethics involved. This was patriotism. It just so happened she was making money as she served her country.
And so long as that didn't change Iris was a-okay.
Iris took another glance around and caught the gaze of a few fair individuals staring at her. She gave them a coy smile. She had a reputation for 'hooking up' at these sorts of gatherings, and judging by the way she was being ogled it was clear what was on each of her admirers minds. She had certainly caught the attention of a fair few men tonight, and even some women too, something Iris didn't mind in the slightest.
She rolled her eyes. She could decide who to take home later in the evening. After all Iris had a wide range to choose from tonight and she wanted to choose wisely, though she did already have her gaze on a pretty looking woman with golden blonde hair and flawless skin. Judging from the way she held herself, Iris assumed she may have been a reported of some kind. She let a sly smile slide over herself. If the night played out like she expected it to, Iris would be giving that reporter the story of her life.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as they fell upon someone in the crowd. A tall, lean man with greying, electric blue hair in military dress. General Thaddeus Soarin Ross, former Wonderbolt and now serving in the Equestrian military.
She felt her stomach curdle in disgust.
It was no secret that Soarin and Iris didn't like each other. Soarin and his ex-wife Caroline, A.K.A. Spitfire, had once been in the Wonderbolts many years ago before they had a child, got married and chose different carrier paths, Soarin pursuing a future in the army, and Spitfire a job in sciences. Spitfire had become good friends with Iris' parents, joining Stark Industries and became like a second mother to Iris herself. Iris recalled the times when Spitfire would often express feelings of malcontent about her husband to Iris' mother and when the divorce eventually came, Spitfire had spent a few days at Iris' parents house.
iris had been a teenager at the time, and so had grown up with a disliking of Soarin. She had latched onto Spitfire even more after her father passed away, the older woman acting as Iris and her mother's pillar of strength, becoming more like Iris' best friend than a mother.
Needless to say, Iris didn't like Soarin. What she had done to deserve his hatred however, was anyone's guess but she didn't care. She didn't want the man's friendship anyway. Iris made a mental note to avoid Soarin for the entire evening. A mental note she knew would mostly likely prove useless as Soarin would no doubt do the same.
She grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and drained it instantly. This was going to be a long evening.
Three hours later
Three awards. Three . All of them clunky and heavy and stupid and useless to her. The sooner she could deposit them in the boot of her car, the better. She glanced around as people stood in front of the hotel, the flashes of the camera's bright on their faces as they spoke to various reporters about why they were here and what they would be doing in the near future. Iris was on the lookout however for the blonde bombshell she had spotted earlier. Iris had caught her staring at her several times over the course of the evening, each time getting a little bit bolder.
Iris knew however she wouldn't approach her. which she was fine with. She enjoyed being the hunter much more than the prey.
She walked from the lobby out to the front of the hotel and was almost instantly swarmed by photographers. She paid them no heed and approached her car which had conveniently pulled up right next to Iris' intended target. She smiled to herself as she approached. The young reporter pushed her hair out of her eyes and approached Iris.
"Miss Stark," she said, her voice lacking the usual professional air that might be with a reporter.
"Iris please," she replied. "Miss Stark is my mother."
"iris. Do you have time for a quick interview?"
"For you sweetie? Definitely," Iris answered, giving her a sly wink. "And you are?"
"Cloud," she replied, smiling. "Cloud Chaser."
"Well then Cloud Chaser, let's get to it."
"Yes of course. Iris, what would you say to the people who refer to you as the people who refer to you as Da Vinci of our times?"
Iris snorted. "Ridiculous I don't paint."
"And what about you're other nickname?" Cloud asked. "As the Merchant of Death?"
"That actually has a nice ring to it," Iris smirked. "Tell you what, make it say, twenty percent cooler and print that for me would you toots? Anything else you wanted to ask me?"
Cloud blushed at being called 'toots' but pressed on. "With talk that the wars in Zebrica and Griffinstan potentially coming to a close, what will happen to your company? With no wars to fight what use will Equestria have for your weapons?"
"Excellent question," Iris smirked. "How 'bout we talk about it in the car?"
"E-excuse m-me?" Cloud stammered, looking like a teenage girl being asked on her first date.
"You heard," Iris winked. "I've seen the way you looked at me all night long. So if you want a roll in the hay with the one and only Iris Stark, now's your chance."
She opened the door wide enough fro Cloud to get in past her. She raised and expectant eyebrow at the other woman. Cloud took a quick glance around her before she clambered into the back-seat. Iris followed grinning as she closed the door behind her and the car pulled away from the curb.
Cloud Chaser gripped the pillow beside her as she slept. She gave a small mewl like a cat as she stirred, dragging herself up from the dregs of sleep. She opened bleary eyes to the white of Iris' bedsheets, most of which had ended up tangled around her like some form of robe. She yawned deeply, one hand resting beneath her, the other fumbling blindly for Iris sleeping form. When she didn't find it, she pushed herself up and rolled over into a sitting position.
While she did recall falling asleep first Iris had still been in bed with her. Now she had disappeared. Cloud bit her lip, looking around nervously. She had no idea what to do with herself and felt more than a little bit awkward just sitting there, naked aside for the sheets twisted around her.
A door opened on the other side of the room and Iris stepped back in, toothbrush in her mouth as she scrubbed her teeth. She nodded to Cloud and gave her the same sly wink that she had given her the previous night. She had taken the opportunity to throw some clothes on at the same time, a navy blue tank top and black sports shorts. She lifted a metal cup to her mouth, removed her toothbrush and took a draft. She gargled for a few moments before spitting it out and back into the cup.
"Good for you too?" she smirked, washing her brush in the water in the cup. Cloud blushed and nodded. Iris' smile broadened. "Sweet. I always like to give back in kind." She winked again. "If you know what I mean."
A knock caused Cloud to look up at the door. Iris gave it sideways glance and a raised eyebrow.
"Miss Stark?" came a voice from the other side. "Is it possible to enter?"
"Yeah sure, come on in Scoots," Iris said nonchalantly.
The door opened and a woman about Cloud's own age stepped in. She was a few inches shorter than Iris, with deep purple hair tied back into a loose ponytail, a single bang framing the left side of her face, casting a small shadow across her lilac eyes. She was wearing a white blouse and freshly pressed black trousers, with matching heels that only contributed about an inch and half to her overall height.
"Can I assume business as usual this morning ma'am?" she said, giving a quick, discrete glance at Cloud.
"Yeah, sure," Iris said smiling. "C.C, I'll leave you with Scoots. I got some things to take care of downstairs."
"You have a weapons demo in Griffinstan tomorrow," Scoots reminded.
Iris rolled her eyes before walking out past Scoots. "I know," she replied, walking down the corridor.
Scoots looked at Cloud.
"I have already taken the liberty of selecting a change of clothes for you Miss Chaser," Scoots explained. "There is also a car outside waiting to take you to a location of your specification. Is there anything else you may require?"
"Um," Cloud said quietly. "Who... who are you? Are you, Iris'..."
"I am Scootaloo Anima, Miss Stark's PA and live-in assistant," Scoots explained. "I help her run Stark Industries, organise her appointments and help her with her... guests. Will there be anything else Miss Chaser?"
"Um, some privacy maybe?" Cloud said.
"Of course," Scoots nodded, setting down a small pile of clothing on the bed, along with an envelope. "This should be enough bits to cover the cost of your dry-cleaning for your other clothes. When you finished dressing please proceed downstairs and out the front door. Have a nice day."
She smiled sweetly and backed out.
Iris breathed in deeply, sucking in cigarette smoke as she did through the small carcinogen that she held between her lips with her teeth. She let out a deep sigh of relaxation through her nose as she felt the calming effects of the nicotine seep through her. She plucked it from her lips with a practised motion and flicked the ashes off of the end and into an ashtray beside her as she set back to work on a new blueprint.
"Ma'am, Miss Chaser has left the building," said an automated voice.
"Who? Oh yeah," Iris muttered, only half-listening.
"Busy working on your latest masterpiece ma'am?" the voice asked.
"You know it Tank," Iris smiled as she continued her work, barely listening to the A.I.
"Ma'am Miss Anima is coming downstairs," Tank warned. "May I also remind you that your flight for Griffinstan has now been delayed by a total of twenty-seven minutes?"
"Yeah yeah I know," Iris muttered, sketching a curved line freehand.
The door to her workshop opened behind her and Scoots stepped in, her perfect smile gone, replaced by a slightly irritated grimace, her arms folded across her chest. She tapped her foot, waiting for Iris to turn around and face her. When she didn't she gave an exasperated sigh.
"You are supposed to be on a flight to the other side of the planet right now," Scoots said.
"You know that's the third time I've heard that this morning," Iris muttered. "And you know something? I still don't care."
"What will it take to get you to stop playing with your toys and do some work?" Scoots sighed.
"I dunno. Come back in about, thirty minutes I might have an answer."
"Nice try. You know Princess Luna herself organised this weapons demo for you Iris."
"And?"
"And, she is not going to be too pleased when she finds out you didn't show up because you were playing with another silly design."
"It's not silly. It's very serious. I don't want Soarin coming back, breathing into my face and asking when it's going to be finished." She growled and crushed he cigarette in her grip, dropping the mangled remains into the ash tray before lighting up another.
"Yeah well, I think Soarin is going to be less pleased when you blow off this demo," Scoots stated. "Need I remind you he'll be in Griffinstan too you know?"
"And that's just one more reason not to get up," Iris replied.
"I'll call Spitfire."
Iris froze.
"You wouldn't."
"Oh I would."
iris groaned, setting her tools down and grinding the cigarette in the ashtray and extinguishing it.
"It's a good job you're pretty you know that?" Iris said with a playful smirk as she got up. "I'll be down in ten minutes, need to get changed."
Iris lit another cigarette as she stepped out of her car, taking a deep, nicotine laced death. She had swapped out her tank-top and shorts for a black suit, though she had left the tie discarded on her bedroom floor. It had also seemed appropriate to don a bulletproof vest too, considering this weapons demonstration was taking place in a war zone. Given the climate in Griffinstan and the sunlight in Equestria, Iris slipped on a pair of blue lensed sunglasses after she returned her lighter to her pocket, along with her pack of cigarettes.
The car had pulled up onto the runway of the nearby airport. The only plane there at the moment was Iris' private jet, clearly having been kept waiting there for a long time, considering the irritated Spitfire standing at the bottom of the steps. She tapped her foot and checked her non-existent watch as Iris approached. Iris wasn't duly concerned. She had received this sort of treatment before and she always brushed it off like a bad hangover. Spitfire looked especially peeved however. The ex-Wonderbolt often accompanied Iris to these demonstrations to give her own opinion and to keep Iris in check. It was like Iris had her mother looking over her shoulder on her first date.
"You're late," Spitfire stated.
"Its my plane remember?" iris chuckled, dropping the end of her cigarette to the floor. "If I was late it would have left without me but considering its my plane and therefore won't leave without me, I can't be late."
"Only you could come up with an excuse like that," Spitfire sighed. "Shall we just go before we fall even more off schedule?"
"Whatever you say," Iris shrugged and walking up the steps to the jet's interior, Spitfire following behind.
When they were both inside the take-off procedures followed in usual monotonous fashion. Spitfire, former pilot herself, always found this part particularly boring. Eventually however they were in the air and free to relax.
"How'd the ceremony go last night?" Spitfire asked, leaning back in a leather armchair.
"Three trophies," Iris yawned. She beckoned to one of the stewardesses with one finger. The young woman came over and handed Iris a glass of whiskey, which the billionaire accepted with her trademark, sly wink.
"Are you certain you should be drinking?" Spitfire asked. Iris rolled her eyes and knocked back the amber liquid in a single gulp, before holding the glass out to be refilled.
"Relax," Iris replied, "'Snot like I'm gonna get wasted or anything. This is just..." She paused to think of an excuse.
"To calm your nerves?" Spitfire asked. Iris snorted.
"Hell no. I was gonna say it's... medicinal! Yeah, that's what I meant. This is for medicinal purposes." Having justified herself, Iris knocked back her second whiskey.
"I would prefer it if you stopped taking you medicine ," Spitfire muttered.
"Oh come on!" Iris cired in exasperation. "When have I ever made an ass of myself at these demonstrations?"
Spitfire fixed Iris with a glance. "Manehatten, two years ago."
Iris looked confused for a moment before her face cleared in a look of clarity and mirth. "You mean the time I threw all over you by mistake?"
"Yes."
"I said sorry. Besides I wasn't aiming for you."
"You were aiming? Who at?"
"Soaring," Iris said with a smirk. Spitfire gave a bitter chuckle.
"I think I can forgive you for that."
The heat of Griffinstan was sweltering to Iris, especially considering she wearing mostly black and there wasn't a square inch of shade for miles around the test site. Still Iris knew that for the few minutes out in the blistering heat, she would be marketing her best creation yet to the world, thus earning plenty of bits. That was enough to ensure Iris didn't turn away and head back to her cushy hotel room.
She slid out of her military escort vehicle and stepped down onto dusty, sandy ground, shading her already sunglasses covered eyes. The sunlight in Griffinstan was startling, blinding almost. Given where they were standing too, on a plane of whitish rock and sand that reflected the light almost as well as a mirror, it was clear to see why everyone was wearing a pair of sunglasses.
Everyone translating out to a few of Stark Industries chairmen, several investors and potential customers (mainly from the private sector) and quite a few military representatives. With an internal groan Iris saw Soarin standing in the crown, in full military dress, clearly trying to impress somebody. Beside him stood his Major General, a younger woman who had once tried out for the Wonderbolts herself, but was rejected on accounts of her volatile nature. Iris remembered her nickname being 'Lightning' or something like that.
It was then Iris noticed another odd pair,standing a little way away from the others. A pair of women. The first looked normal enough, wearing an almost blinding white blouse that complimented her alabaster skin, a pair of blue jeans and black shoes. Her sunglasses had black lenses and her purple hair had been styled into a series of elegant curls.
The other woman, was dressed in bizarre getup for the climate. A long black tench-coat over what looked like full SWAT armour. Iris could see the sweat on her skin in such constricting apparel, the beads of perspiration rolling over her tanned forehead. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and her green eyes had a similar look to Soarin's. That being the gaze of a soldier.
Neither of these individuals had attended one of Iris' demo's before. Now that Iris began to think about it, she had never seen either individual before in her life. She shrugged this off however. Maybe they were potential investors who knew? They had come her to see a demonstration and that's what they were going to get.
Iris walked out in front of the crowd and neared a large, tarpaulin covered object. She knew what was underneath it. It was the reason why everyone was here today. Her latest innovation. She smiled, resisting the urge to caress the covered weapon. She cleared her throat and turned to the onlookers.
"First all I'd like to say how awesome it is that you all came out here today," Iris said smiling. "Now normally people may have some long winded speech in mind but you don't wanna hear that? You wanna watch me blow shit up!"
She reached out and whisked away the tarpaulin, casting it aside and revealing the weapon beneath. A single stand. Unpon it, resting in a mountable cradle, was a metallic gold and silver missile. Four guidance fins near the propulsion systems, and four more near the nose cone. The sides of the missile looked like they might fall away at a predesignated command. Iris stroked the metal with one hand and smiled.
"Is it better to be feared, or respected?" she asked the group at large rhetorically. "My dad asked me that a long time ago. I asked him, 'Why can't I have both?'" Iris smiled at the memory, recalling how her father had laughed at her response. Before returning to her audience, a small remote in her hand with a single, red button. "I hear that Princess Celestia has a belief that the best weapons are the ones you never have to fire. I have to respectfully disagree. The best weapon-" She glanced at her creation. "-is the one you have to fire, once!"
She waggled the remote in one hand before pressing the button harshly. The rockets at the base of the missile ignited and launched it from its cradle, and sent it careening into the distance.
"If you have a problem with some big shot warlord, one of these suckers is enough to make sure the bad guys wish they'd never got out of bed that morning," Iris smirked. "And that is a Stark Industries guarantee."
The panels on the missile's sides fell away and released dozens of smaller, but no doubt just as powerful, payloads, each one painted a different, metallic colour.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Iris called. The payload struck into a rocky hillside about a mile away. "I give you the Hydra."
The shock wave rolled over the dusty planes, kicking up loose sand and dirt in its wake. Iris smiled as she felt the unnatural wind billow past her, whisking her hair into a frenzy. There were cries from her audience as hats were knocked off and blown away. Iris saw one unfortunate individual have his toupee plucked straight from his head and carried off into the distance.
The dust settled and a small round of applause started as those who had lost hats bent down to pick them up. Iris gave a cocky smile and gave a mock bow. A case was brought out and set on a small side table. Its contents were revealed to be a series of champagne flutes and a bottle of the same liquid. Iris uncorked the bottle with practised movements and poured a glass for herself, raising it to her fellows.
"Act now and this comes standard," she remarked to general chuckles. She downed her glass and casually threw it over her shoulder where it smashed onto the ground. "Let's wrap this up shall we? I'm sure we all have better things to do than stand here all day."
She made her way quickly to her escort vehicle. Iris turned back to Spitfire who was approaching her. She quickly hopped into her seat.
"Get me outta here," she purred, reclining as best she could in her seat.
"Ma'am what about your friend?" asked the driver. Iris waved it away.
"It's not like she stranded out here," iris shrugged. "I'm sure she'll hitch a ride with someone."
"As you wish," the driver said. Iris leaned out the window and waved farewell to Spitfire. The older woman merely gave Iris a look that was halfway between death-glare and irritated amusement.
"I'll see you at the hotel!" she cried back at Spitfire like a giddy school girl. Spitfire maturely flipped Iris off.
The journey was hot and bumpy but Iris didn't mind. She sat back and listened to her iPod, bobbing her head to the music contained within. The soldiers sat their in a slightly awkward silence. Iris noticed this and rolled her eyes. She knew she'd have to put them at ease. Giving an internal sigh, she pulled out the headphones and turned to the soldier next to her.
"So why uptight? I feel like I did something wrong," Iris smiled, the small talk practically burning her tongue.
The soldier next to her jumped slightly. Iris tried not to roll her eyes. The nervous type obviously.
"Planning to jump ship kid?" Iris chuckled, "Come on I'm not that scary am I?"
"Of course not ma'am," the soldier smiled nervously. "Just, sort of on edge."
"All because of me? You charmer," Iris smiled, deciding she may as well have fun flirting with the young man. He blushed slightly as he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. The soldier in the passenger seat at the front of the car gave a snort of laughter.
"He's working up the nerve to ask if he can have a picture with you," the other soldier called back. The first soldier blushed even brighter. Iris smiled, slightly touched at his shy nature.
"Sure, why not?" Iris smirked. "We don't have anything better to do. You got a camera kid?"
The soldier began to fumble in her pockets for said camera. Iris rolled her eyes and looked to front, jerking her head at her companion as if to say 'Can you believe this kid?' The soldier chuckled, before his head whipped around as the car in front of them exploded in a ball of flames. Iris sat up straight, whipping her sunglasses off, eyes bugging in her head.
"What the hell was that?" the soldier beside her cried. The car came to a swift halt, skidding on the dusty road. Iris opened her mouth to offer her opinion. A weapon that could destroy such a potent and armoured military transport vehicle would either have to be a single, high calibre bullet from a sniper rifle to the fuel tank, or an R.P.G. or other such rocket launcher. Either way, they were under fire.
The cab of the car suddenly rang as various dents appeared in the metal, the bullets that struck its surface ricocheting off without doing much damage. This made Iris think, her genius mind still working even in these desperate circumstances. Why had they so carelessly destroyed the car in front when they were wasting ammo on the one she was in? Were they hoping to pin them down until they reloaded?
"Corporal! Get the V.I.P. to safety!" cried the driver of the car. "Sergeant, you're coming with me!"
"Yes sir!" both men cried. The Corporal turned to Iris and began to shunt her out to the undamaged side of the car. Iris followed the instruction, forcing the door open and practically spilling out into the sunlight. The air was tainted by smoke and burning fuel and the heat seemed much more potent than before.
"This way ma'am!" the Corporal cried, setting off at a brisk jog back they way they had come, keeping low to the ground, drawing his firearm. Iris followed suit, keeping low and moving much more swiftly than the soldier, partly because she wasn't wearing all the equipment he was, and partly because she was wearing black in the desert . She couldn't have been more like a sore thumb than if she was standing naked on top of a hill, waving her arms and screaming 'Over here! I'm a sore thumb!'
A shot rang out, louder than the others, and the Corporal crumbled to the ground beside her. iris doubled back and crouched next to him, her fingers pressing against his neck, confirming what she already knew. The man had been dead before he had hit the ground. She got back to her feet and began running much more swiftly, still trying to keep as low as possible.
A hail of bullets struck the ground a few feet ahead of her and she hit the ground hard, rolling up against a ridge of rock for shelter. The bullets stopped. Iris looked at the sky. Was it over?
Something heavy landed next to her. She looked at it. It was some kind of cylinder, half buried in the dirt, testimony to the speed with which it had impacted the ground and its weight. It took Iris a few moments to decipher the words written on the side.
'Stark Industries.'
iris put two and two together in a heartbeat.
"Shit!" she cried, scrambling to her feet an eternity too late. She managed to put a few paces between her and the bomb, before it exploded, sending Iris into a whirlwind of darkness, red and pain.
Chapter Four: Prisoner (24601)
Present time
Iris groaned. She felt heavy. That was the best way to describe it. Heavy. Like maybe limbs had been filled with lead, or as if some great weight was pressing down on her. At least she was alive, that she could be grateful of.
A second later she began to rethink that idea as a dull throb of pain shot through her entire body. She curled up tighter as she lay on her side, her face twisting into a grimace. Her hands gripped her shoulders as another jolt of pain rocketed through her, coming from her chest.
Slowly, Iris opened her eyes. She was in a cave like the one from before, but this one was more dimly lit. The rock walls were rougher, and more dirt coated. A large metal door had been bolted into the rock, barring Iris' only means of escape. There were workbenches and tools set up in various areas of the cave. Advanced tools too, the kind that Iris had in her workshop back in Cloudsdale. She took a glance at what she was lying on and saw a poor facsimile for a bed; nothing more that a moth-eaten blanket on a metal table of some description. Beside her on a small side table was a glass of water.
Only just realizing how dry her mouth was, she reached out and snatched the glass up, ignoring the pain in her chest. It was becoming less and less intense now, more bearable. As she lifted the glass to eye level, so noticed the cloudy quality in the water and the small clumps of dirt clinging to the inside of the glass. She wrinkled her nose in disgust but brought the glass to her lips anyway and drained the glass, trying to keep her mouth as closed as possible to let only water through. Once the glass was drained she set it back on the table and noticed the other object that sat beside it.
Iris tilted her head and pushed herself up to look at it, vaguely noticing her suit jacket and shirt had been replaced by a dirty blue hooded jacket and a sweat stained vest. From what she could see of it, the object on the table was a car battery, and not a recent one. It looked old and battered. It was then she saw the black cables that ran from the battery's anode and cathode. They twisted around each other as they ran off of the table, onto Iris bed, up her leg and under Iris' vest.
A horrible feeling overcame Iris. She pulled the hem of the vest up, past her navel and over her chest. Her chest was wrapped under layers of surgical bandages coated in sweat and drying blood that had clearly seeped from the wound underneath. With dread, she saw the black wires wind their way underneath the bandages. With shaking hands, she pawed at the bandages, tearing them from her body, ignoring the pulses of pain coming from her chest. As she ripped the last of the bandages from her chest, she saw something dark, but the angle was awkward and she couldn't see it properly.
She glanced around the cave again, looking for a mirror of some kind. She spotted on e after a few moments, a broken a cracked sheet of stained reflective glass with a dim lamp over it. It was great but it would do.
Iris swung her legs off of her her bed and gingerly got to her feet, ignoring the bizarre chill that wafted around her now exposed chest. Her legs felt wobbly as she stood up, but solid enough to walk on. She looked at the battery and saw someone had fashioned a strap for her to hold onto and lift it. She did so, her arms feeling as weak as her legs.
Iris clumsily made her way over to the mirror, noticing for the first time the camera's that were positioned around the cave. Her mind, though still sluggish, was able to identify the fixed wall camera's angles, and see which areas of the cave they managed to cover. They were fixed at their respective angles, so they could only see what they were pointed at, and most only covered her bed and the area around it. There were some serious blind-spots in here.
She smiled slightly. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage.
She shook her head. First thing's first. Find out what exactly was in her chest now, ponder possible escape strategies later.
iris set the battery down on the ground and looked into the mirror. The object in her chest was circular and black. It appeared to be some kind of plastic covering plate, the kind that protected complex circuitry. Iris gulped. What had they put inside her?
The sight of the unidentified object in her chest was making Iris feel sick. She pulled her vest down again and pressed her hands into her eyes, trying to piece it together. The last thing she could clearly remember was the demonstration... no... there was something after that.
Her eyes widened as she remembered the attack. The explosion of the car in front of her. The dead corporal.... the bomb.
Iris looked at her chest. Did this have something to do with the explosion that had happened before she blacked out? She began to protest such an idea, reminding herself that she had been wearing a bullet proof vest and a Stark Industries one was well. Then she quashed those ideas, as she remembered that even a Stark Industries vest was no match for shrapnel flying at Mach three through the air.
So why wasn't she dead?
Before she could answer the question (not that she had the answer), the door to her cave - no - her CELL opened. Two tall, bulky men stepped inside, flanking a leaner, more intimidating woman. The men's black hair was cut so short it was like thin stubble covered the entirity of their tanned heads. There eyes were a dull brown, bloodshot, pig-like and watery. Iris recognised the look of such brutish people. Diamond Dogs, brutal mercenaries from deep in the Bad Lands. Though they were ruthless soldiers they had a strange sense of honour when it came to war, like the Klingon's from Stark Trek.
The third figure, the woman was not a Diamond Dog, that was for certain. She had the poise and stature only a Griffin could pull off. Her bleached blonde hair was spiky, yet looked soft to the touch, at odds with her beak-like nose, sunken amber eyes and murderous grin.
They wore the same uniform as the people in the chamber where Iris had been filmed, with that emblem marked on their shoulders. The purple dragon, snorting emerald fire.
The woman appeared to be the one in charge, at least as far as these three were concerned, as the two Diamond Dogs hung over her shoulder's, weapons poised.
"Awake at last I see," said the Griffin, her smile widening slightly, revealing glittering teeth. "This is good."
"Who are you?" iris asked bluntly. She knew that one wrong word could have her dead, but given that she should already be dead made her doubt that. If they wanted to kill her, they would have left her by the road side to bleed out. Even if she hadn't, which Iris knew was an impossibility, she would have most likely died from infection. And yet here she was. They had saved her for a purpose. And she remembered that purpose all too well.
They wanted weapons... Her weapons.
"Well, I suppose it won't to tell you who we are," the Griffin chuckled. "After all you're never leaving here so you won't live to tell anyone. I am Gilda -" She looked smug as if that was important or something. "-These are my boys -" She gestured to the Diamond Dogs who grunted in acknowledgement. "- And we are the Emerald Dragons."
Iris couldn't help but give a snort of laughter at such a name. "The Emerald Dragons? What are you guys sixteen?"
The Diamond Dogs gave a growl of anger as Gilda's smile was replaced by a vicious, twisted snarl. Iris took a nervous step back, suddenly realising insulting armed and dangerous terrorists was probably not the smartest thing she had done. They would not kill her, that she knew for certain, or at least hoped they wouldn't. That didn't mean that they wouldn't hurt her.
"You're lucky we need you Stark," Gilda snarled. "Now unless you have anything else to say, you will come with us. The master wants to see you." The Diamond Dogs cracked their knuckled menacingly. "Of course, if you have other ideas..." She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to. Iris recognised a threat when she saw one.
Iris hesitated for a moment. She knew they wanted her to build weapons, weapons that would ultimately be used against Equestria. New weapons, ones that the Equestrian military would have no defence against. Iris knew she could never cater to such demands. At the same time however, she knew that failure to cooperate with the simpler demands would simply bring her pain and no answers. Therefore, she reasoned, it was in her best interest to cooperate now, and refuse later.
She bent down and picked up the battery that had been on the floor and held it to her chest, eyes glaring defiantly at Gilda, but stepping towards her anyway. The Griffin smiled, believing she had won some kind of victory.
"Good to see you're so cooperative," she said, gesturing to the open door. "Don't try and run or we'll shoot you."
'Yeah right,' Iris thought to herself, seeing through the empty threat. She was in no fit state to run anyway and the battery would slow her down.
Gilda and the Diamond Dogs led Iris through a network of tunnels. iris knew it would be too much to hope for that they would be taking her to the surface, but she memorised the route anyway. It may be useful later, she realised.
After about five minutes they reached another iron door. Two more guards stood by the door, one a griffin and the other a Diamond Dog. The two of them nodded to Gilda and opened the door. Gilda stepped through, followed by Iris and then the two Diamond Dogs.
The cave beyond was more of a room than any of the other caves she had seen before. The walls were smoother, the air cooler and the lights softer yet still bright. There were bookshelves on one side of the cave, with books written in various languages. A series of weapon racks stood behind a battered mahogany desk with a series of sketches and diagrams littered over it.
Leaning over the desk was a tall, lean looking man. He was clearly fit, like Gilda, but wasn't wearing any form of uniform. Instead he wore a reddish t-shirt with dusty blue jeans. His eyes were a bloody red and his right ear lobe was pierced with two silver studs. His hair and goatee were both greyish white striped with white. It was hard for Iris to tell whether or not he was in his early twenties or in his late thirties. He was clearly neither Griffin or Diamond Dog. Equestrian? No, Iris had never seen such a man in Equestria. Prance maybe?
The figure looked up at Iris and smiled.
"Iris Stark," he said, his voice tainted by some unknown accent. "A pleasure to meet you at last."
"And you would be?" Iris asked. Gilda growled. The man chuckled.
"Gilda, you don't nee to be so violent. Our guest was merely asking a question." He looked at Iris, revealing a pointed incisor that looked more like a fang than an actual tooth. "You, Miss Stark, may call me Discord."
"Okay then, Discord ," Iris said, mustering as much contempt into her voice when she said her captor's name. "I know this may be a dumb question and one I already know the answer to, but what do you want from me?"
Discord chuckled. "As you have said, you know why you're here. You're going to build us weapons Miss Stark. We have all the resources available for you to construct these weapons." Discord smiled again. "Of course you're welcome to disagree. But I assure you the results will be... less than pleasant."
Iris glowered at Discord.
"Try me."
Discord's smiled dropped before looking to Gilda. The Griffin nodded be punching Iris in the stomach, forcing the other woman to her knees.
"Make sure not to damage her too bad Gilda," Discord muttered. "I want her to be prepared when tomorrow comes." He paused. "Having said that however, feel free to make her regret her words in any way you feel appropriate."
Gilda smiled. "Yes sir."
Iris groaned as she woke up, once again, in considerable pain. To say Gilda had gone easy on her would be an absolute lie. Iris was certain she'd soon see bruises develop all over her body. It was strange though. The pain was strangely numbed. She was still aware of it and it still hurt, but it wasn't as bad as she'd thought it would be.
It was then that Iris realized she wasn't alone. Someone else was moving in her cell nearby. Two someone's, for Iris could just about make two hushed voices speaking between each other. The movements she heard indicated that at least one of them was moving towards her.
"She is waking sister," said one of the voices, a voice that Iris knew was neither Diamond Dog nor Griffin. Female too and had the definite touches of a Germaney accent. It was kind as well; kind yet melancholy.
The other person in the room moved too and approached her sister and Iris. There were a few hushed words in Germane before Iris finally opened her eyes. She saw two, remarkably similar looking young woman. Identical, aides from the colour of their hair, one having light blue hair, the other bubblegum pink, though they shared the same pale skin, the same innocent expression and the same bright blue eyes. They were unclean though, dirty as if they had been through the same hell Iris had. One of the sisters, the pink haired one, had a cut on her left cheek that hadn't healed over all the way. Twins, Iris assumed.
"How do you feel?" asked the one without the cut, her expression soft and worried. Iris smiled at her obvious worry. Few every showed such genuine concern for her well being aside from her mother, Spitfire and Scoots.
"Okay I guess," Iris muttered, her voice croaky.
"She needs water," the other sister said quickly, rushing off to find some.
"Can you move?" the first sister asked. Iris lifted her arms and pushed herself upright.
"I guess so," Iris muttered. "Who are you?"
"I am Lotus," the pink haired woman said before turning to her sibling, "And that is my sister Aloe."
"Are you...?" Iris jerked her head to the security cameras.
"With them?" Lotus asked. Iris nodded. Lotus shook her head sadly. "We are prisoners much like you Miss Sparkle, forced to work to stay alive."
"We are doctors," Aloe explained, offering Iris a glass full of moderately cleaner water. "We came to Griffinfstan to help the wounded. Our dugout was attacked and... well..."
She gestured around her in indication of her current predicament. Iris nodded, showing she understood. She felt deeply sorry for these two. She knew she didn't need to ask why they had been kept alive. Two doctors were better than none, and she doubted anyone in the Emerald Dragons had even the most basic of medical training. Another question came to Iris' mind however.
"Did you guys do.... this ?" Iris asked, gesturing to her chest. Both women nodded.
"We had to operate fast," Lotus explained. "It was a miracle you survived to be perfectly honest."
"Yeah speaking of operate I've been wondering, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" Iris cried, grabbing the cable that snaked udner her shirt.
Lotus' hands flew up to her face in a terrified gasp as Aloe tugged Iris' hands away from the cable, her face going slightly pale.
"Don't," she said firmly. "We did operate, but we were unable to remove all of the shrapnel from your chest. This-" Here she tapped Iris chest with one finger, "- Is an electromagnet, keeping the rest of the shrapnel from piercing your heart. We used them in the dugouts to keep wounds like this from claiming the lives of their victims until they could be transported back home."
The implications of the sentence hit Iris like a ton of bricks.
"This is what's keeping me alive?" she asked quietly. Aloe nodded. Iris looked at the car battery, then back at Aloe. "How long is that going to last?"
Aloe and Lotus shared a look.
"How long?" Iris asked again, her voice hard. Lotus cleared her throat.
"A week at most," she whispered.
Iris' eyes widened. A week? That was how long this electromagnet was going to last? Then by extension, that was how long she was going to last. She pressed her hands to her head and pulled at her hair. If any normal person had been told they had only a week to live they might have broken down instantly. Not Iris; she was made of tougher stuff.
"Okay," Iris muttered to herself. "So all I have to do, is weather the beating's for a week. Then I don't have to make them any weapons, and they loose their prisoner too."
"They still have plenty of your other weapons," Lotus said. "They would do much damage to this country if not Equestria even if you didn't help them."
Iris nodded, biting her lip.
"If you die, what would the world remember about you Iris Stark?" Lotus asked, harshly. "A woman who helped protect her country? Or a coward who took the easy way out, and let Equestria's own defences be turned on her?"
Iris looked at Lotus, her eyes flashing dangerously. She swung her legs off of the bed and got to her feet.
"I'll tell you what the world's gonna remember about me," she said, "It's gonna remember that Iris Stark was kidnapped by Griffinstan terrorists and held prisoner, only to return to Equestria, having not only escaped the grips of her captors, but totally disarming them as well!"
"What do you mean?" Aloe asked.
"I mean we're getting out of here," Iris answered. "All three of us."
"But, how?" Aloe whispered. "We are trapped in here."
"Yeah, but they want me to build weapons," Iris said with a dark smile. "So, I'll build them a weapon. Heck, I'll even demonstrate it for them."
Lotus' eyes widened in glee as she realised what Iris was getting at. "You intend to use their resources to create the medium for our escape?"
"Damn straight," Iris smirked. "Nobody messes with Iris Stark. Not unless they want their ass handed to them."
