SECRET INVASION CONTEST II: Imposter Syndrome

[Rift]

6 HOURS INTO THE INVASION

Tony Stark stood on a platform, multiple displays around him showing feeds from around the world as scenes of chaos and carnage unfolded. Alien ships patrolling the skylines of major cities, Skrull soldiers marching the streets, and reports of communication blackouts happening across the globe. The scenario he and Reed Richards had feared was unfolding almost exactly as he had predicted. Perhaps a bit more sloppily than initially anticipated, but still nearly beat for beat how he'd been expecting it to go.

Scowling he turned away from the screens and continued working on his project, welder throwing sparks as metal fused together. Glancing at the a nearby camera he sighed.

"So that's where we are. Thing about being a futurist, about predicting patterns and outcomes? It royally sucks when you get it right and there was nothing you could do to prevent the eventuality. I mean there are thousands of what if scenarios I've been running through since this shindig popped off. What could I have done differently Who could I have maybe trusted? What would have happened if instead of going into business for herself Carol had come to me instead of trusting the freaking Skrull Queen? How much better would our chances be if I hadn't had my own people, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents meant to answer to me, keeping secrets and withholding intelligence from their Director? If the so-called Civil War between heroes had never occurred would the Avengers be in a better position to react to this threat?"

Fiddling with a chip's placement on whatever he was working on, he shook his head. "Thing about what ifs about regrets? In the end they don't change anything. They become an anchor that weigh you down and stop you from moving forward. Past is past and you have to deal with the world as it is, not how you want it to be. As of now, the world is under attack by alien shapeshifters that have infiltrated society at almost every level. So what do we do about it? Well fighting back is obvious, but how? They are in our police forces, our military, and even our technology. That's why our communications are in disarray. They control them so they just shut them off at the source. Probably should have realized people were being replaced when repair men and IT folks started showing up on time, but again, hey, the past is an anchor."

Taking off protective eyewear and wiping sweat from his forehead, Stark smirked at the camera.

"So our communications are shoddy at best and compromised at worst. Thankfully not everywhere runs on the same tech and not every agency or department has been able to afford switching to the latest and greatest. If you are receiving this message, delayed as it is, it is because I'm doing something I HATE doing. I'm taking a gamble without having all the relevant data. Normally I only trust tech and then it usually has to have been built by yours truly, but I'm taking a page out of Steve's book and deciding to trust...people. That means everyone seeing this. And if you are a Skrull in disguise well, hey, this is hardly the worst decision I have ever made. Ask me about that time in Cabo with that then up and coming Latin popstar? What was her name again? Now that was a bad...I'm getting off track."

Wiping his grease covered hands he shook his head. "Look, by now you've likely seen old Normie's broadcast and while he's talking a good game, we all know what the deal is with him. He's smart, but not me smart. He's also ambitious and for him this isn't about defending mankind or saving his neighbor, it's about optics. If we lose, I guarantee you that slimeball is going to be the first one to hand over the keys to the planet to these green freaks in exchange for a cushy office and a harem of wrinkly green chicks. But if we lose, it isn't going to be without a fight. And to that end..."

Pressing a button on his watch a holographic display popped up as he turned it to the camera. "Most of you probably find that rich coming from me. Yeah, I'm co-Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. but it was never about power or ego with me. I had to be in position to stem the tide, to be a buffer between the worst instincts of paper pushing politicians and the people who just want to use their abilities for good. Love me, hate me, doesn't matter. It comes with perks. And one of those perks is the ability to make some radical decisions in emergency situations. And this qualifies."

The hologram grew to take up the entirety of the screen, showing codenames and things that were typically top secret.

"As of now I am officially authorizing the use of non-registered superhumans. At least for the duration of this war you have carte blanch to operate as you see fit to defend mankind without fear of retaliation by S.H.I.E.L.D. The Superhuman Registration Act is suspended until this nightmare is over. And in line with my authority as co-Director I am also offering an olive branch to others. The Green Meanie in Chief will no doubt turn to using supervillains to get the job done, but I don't trust those madmen any more than I do the Skrulls. So morally dubious as it may be, mercenaries of the superhuman variety are being contacted separately as are heroes of...let's call it unfortunate standing. Looking at you Walker. Bygones. We need everyone on board for this fight, so you are being given a temporary, low-grade Avengers clearance. Do well and if we survive this fight we'll discuss official membership. For now, though this should give those of you receiving this the necessary authority to pull rank to help organize local resistance. As for the mercs, payment is pending upon completion."

As the hologram faded, the view shifted to a close up of a very tired and frankly sick looking Tony.

"To my fellow Avengers, I know it is hard to see what is happening, but there is a lot going on you don't understand and that I can't risk revealing right now. So trust me, hard as that may be. We will assemble, we will fight back, but we can't just go in guns blazing. There's something that has to be done first. Something I have to do, first."

Stepping back onto a platform, various mechanical arms lowered to start helping Tony suit up.

"For a long time now I have been...out of my element. Spy craft, espionage, and politics is a far cry from what I do best. I'm an engineer, an idea guy, and since I took the job as co-Director I've been stumbling around in the dark trying to do my best Nick Fury impersonation and obviously I'm not him. I've known it for a long while now, that I'm playacting and it is far from my best role. Took an unexpected meeting with an let's call it an out of towner to remind me of this. So, if we are going to win I have to get back to being who I am, what I am, and what I do best."

A helmet lowered and snapped shut, replacing the roguish grin of Tony Stark with the grim visage of the Iron Man.

"Long story short kiddoes, I'm Iron Man and it is time to remind these wrinkly chinned space elves what happens when you mess with my world. So Avengers? When you see the sign and believe me you will know it, it'll be time to assemble. Hopefully, I'll see you on the battlefield. F.R.I.D.A.Y? Load up my play list, send message, and standby to fire off those personal messages. You know, just in case."

With that the ceiling of the facility opened up and Iron Man lifted off into the sky...

[word count: 1359]

[Rift]

ONE WEEK INTO THE INVASION

Iron Man soared through the air, his targeting system locking onto a patrolling Skrull craft and firing a missile at its propulsion systems. The projectile made contact and the craft erupted into flames, the wreckage crashing to the ground below. A few pinpoint repulsor beams knocked chunks of the vessel off course to avoid potential civilian casualties and beneath the helmet, Tony swallowed hard.

"That was too close. F.R.I.D.A.Y. I know the systems on the Model 13 are out of date, but we have to get target lock-on faster." he told his Operating System.

"I'm aware of that, but there's only so much I can do with the out-of-date technology in this suit. It isn't fully integrated like your...

Stark sighed and interrupted. "EXTREMIS. Yeah I know, so you keep reminding me. And I get it, you don't have as much processing power in there as you are used to, but we have to make do."

"Boss, it would be much easier if you just..."

"NO!" he snapped. "We've been over this. If we are going to stand a chance at beating back this invasion I can't rely on EXTREMIS. Not even once. The chances of it being compromised is too great. As is I have to rely on something I can no longer fully trust to keep me functioning. Not a suit, me, my very innards. So it is out of the question. We make do. I mean I've had worse. At least my heart isn't in danger while I'm stuck in a cave."

Making do was unfortunately, exactly what he had been doing for the last week. He'd been on the move going from one official Stark Industry facilities  to another and making his way to secret locations hidden away within seemingly worthless warehouses, abandoned garages, and more. It was hit and run tactics the whole way, taking down Skrull checkpoints, destroying their vehicles and weapons when and where he could, and dodging the sweep teams that came in to reinforce. All the while he was gathering things, bits and pieces of old armor, technology not linked to the Stark Mainframe, and even things that were merely in a prototype stage that had never really been put into practice or seen field use.

On the rare occasion he slept for maybe fifteen minutes at a time he was using the tiniest amount of Extremis to go over data. His brief encounter with Slapstick had not in fact been a one-off fluke with the armor. Something about the Extremis was compromised. Maybe it wasn't the Skrull, maybe it was some enemy he'd long since forgotten or someone who was trying to make a comeback by stealing his secrets, but he couldn't risk it either way. The Extremis virus had rewritten his entire form, had rebuilt how his up until then very human body, had functioned. If it was the Skrull or someone working on their behalf as he suspected, it would mean that at a critical moment they could shut him down or worse yet take control of him, body and armor alike. It was why he was using older suits and why he had not yet wanted the Avengers to come together for an all-out offensive. It would be meaningless and people would die. If the aliens had their way it may very well end up being Iron Man who did the killing.

"Boss, there's another several messages waiting for you at various locations. Co-Director Hill has demanded..."

"Maria, if that's even really her, can demand all she wants. I don't have time for it. Any word from other Avengers?" he asked.

"No sir. Not yet, though there are reports matching the descriptions of several fighting back much as you have been. Also, several government officials are insisting that even if you did issue orders saying the SRHA is temporarily suspended you don't have the authority to do that. Of course they can't prove you even said it, just that it is a rumor going around."

Rumor my ass. Either someone was captured and flipped or at least one person I sent the message to was a Skrull and reported to his or her buddies. Buddies pretending to be members of congress or some alphabet agency. Even if Norman legitimately wants to stop this crap his efforts will be thwarted by infiltrators, likely in his own cabinet, Tony thought.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y continue towards the coordinates I last gave you. Block out all SHIELD signals, but monitor the chatter. I'm going to try to get a little rest so wake me approximately fifteen minutes before arrival. And in the event we are spotted and attacked...well don't let me croak while asleep at the wheel huh?"

[word count: 791}

[Rift]

8 HOURS LATER...

Sleep was short lived. Tony had been forced to abandon his trajectory due to ever increasing aerial surveillance. Unfortunately, that meant having to travel at ground level and the streets were not much better. Skrull forces marched, rounding up civilians that would dare to resist. Mobile containment units that he recognized as S.HI.E.L.D. issue were being set up at checkpoints throughout the city, complete with laser fencing and watchtowers. He couldn't help but wonder how many of S.H.I.E.L.D's operatives had been Skrull in disguise and how many civilians had followed their orders thinking they were there to help.

Ever so often he would risk listening in on known communication channels. For the most part the Skrull forces were so confident they had secured their control over emergency frequencies that it didn't take long to get small updates on what was happening. While places like New York, Los Angeles, and other major metropolitan centers around the globe were facing similar circumstances what with makeshift camps, Skrull patrols, and comms. blackouts, there were pockets of resistance. Both civilians and costumed heroes alike were fighting back when and where they could. From the sounds of it the Skrull were not having as easy a time of it as it first appeared, but with infiltrators in high levels of government and even local police departments, the paranoia of not being able to trust your neighbor was definitely starting to settle in for the resistance forces.

While he couldn't help but smile every time a Skrull commander reported a missing unit or described a superhuman he recognized as having caused them setbacks, it pained him to not be able to just immediately jump into the fray. Caution however was a necessity. Symptoms of EXTREMIS' being compromised had started a short time ago.

It began with his vision swirling and then fragmenting like a monitor that began losing pixels. Before long, it had progressed to the point where he needed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to control servos in the armor to help him stay upright. A health monitor in the corner of his HUD would occasionally read as if he was flatlining.

Somebody out there isn't happy that I'm not playing ball, he thought. They've left no doubt that I was right, EXTREMIS is compromised which means the armor would be too. In fact, anything I'd hook into would give them control. Which means I have to keep on as is. No looking through satellites, no hooking up to scan the net for updates, and no remote access to anything Stark Industries or S.H.I.E.L.D related. Assuming they haven't replaced Maria Hill, there are still some top-secret things that Fury squirreled away the Skrulls wouldn't have access to and they are not going to get it through me!

Keeping to the shadows of an alley, the armor tucked away in his suitcase, Tony looked much like any other person on the street. Tired, disheveled, and trying to pass unnoticed.

My kingdom for just a prototype stealth suit, he thought.

Brief interaction with a homeless Vet helping people hide in long abandoned buildings had let him know that at least some of the heroes he'd sent his message to had received it. Rumors were spreading among the Skrull that a dragon with burning claws was repelling the invaders out in Harlem. Claims of a super soldier wrecking havoc on Skrull forces while excitedly letting them know they were "being deported back to green alien hell" were increasing. All those and more were just stories from New York. Apparently, people of the non-powered variety were teaching the aliens why you don't feel comfortable when the trees of Appalachia start singing.

As heartening as it was to hear tales of resistance and to even see it firsthand, Tony knew that it was a drop in the bucket. Mankind was outmatched and it was only a matter of time before the Skrulls gained the upper hand. Their technology was not only superior, but they'd gained control over the systems and weapons that humanity relied on for day-to-day operations, let alone their own defense. Which was why he had to stick to his mission, to give people a fighting chance.

As he darted from one alley to another, trying to ignore his ankle deciding to send his foot sideways at random, he paused. Crouching down behind a burned out vehicle, he saw a Skrull patrol, still wearing the uniforms of the NYPD officers they'd impersonated, raise weapons.

A group of teenagers who had armed themselves with anything they could find, were being cornered between two apartment buildings. Whatever they'd done to tick off the Skrulls had apparently left the aliens tired of playing.

Dammit! he thought.

He knew his mission was of the utmost importance, that many more people would die if he didn't complete it, but these kids...he couldn't just let what was going to happen go.

Standing, a fiery pain shooting through his side and up into his throat as whoever had essentially hacked the EXTREMIS virus in his body attempted to figure out how to induce a heart attack, he picked up a stray booze bottle and threw it at the Skrulls.

"Hey! Over here you Mars Attacks rejects!" he shouted.

He wanted their attention and he got it. One opened fire on him, the round taking off the side mirror of the burnt out car while three others rushed towards him, flanking on all sides.

"This is gonna hurt," he thought.

Running forward as best he could through the pain he dove like a linebacker, shoulder connecting with the knee of an attacker, a wet pop barely audible over the sounds of conflict all around. As the Skrull disguised as a cop went down, Stark grabbed his nightstick, deployed it, and started bashing him repeatedly in the face. One of his fellow imposters grabbed Tony by the shirt collar and threw him back first into the car.

Air rushed from his lungs as he tried to remember every bit of hand-to-hand training he had received from Steve or from the friendly sparring sessions with Natasha. He was never going to be as good as Cap or Black Widow, but he could handle himself if he had to. At least he normally could when his body wasn't betraying him in new and very painful ways thanks to a compromised tech virus that had rewritten how his very form worked.

As he felt fists pummeling him he lost grip on the nightstick, staggered to his knees, and swung at one of his attackers. The heavy briefcase handcuffed to his wrist knocked out teeth and allowed him a moment to raise it to intercept another fist.

For the briefest of moments he thought he had a chance.

Then his hearing cut out, replaced with an electronic droning that reminded him of a seized-up computer. The edges of his vision began to pixelate again and he could barely register all the hits he was taking...

[word count: 1186]

[Rift]

Deep in the recesses of his mind, Tony was strolling through a landscape that looked like a programmer's fever dream. Zeroes and ones floated freely through the air, shapes and half-formed concepts flickering like holograms. A crude recreation of his Hall of Armors surrounded him, each suit appearing like the wire frames used in videogames. At the center of the hall was a workbench, very similar to the one he relied upon in the cave in which he built his first suit so long ago.

An intercom system squealed as a modulated voice spoke, a blend of the Mandarin, Pepper Potts, and his father Howard. "Anthony. You seem to have gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle. This isn't like you. You could end this right now, so why don't you?"

Tony couldn't help but laugh. "Right. I could just call on EXTREMIS and wreck these Skrulls in two seconds flat. Maybe call-in additional suits or an orbital strike from one of S.H.I.E.L.D's satellites. But as cathartic and lifesaving as that would be, it would open me up to you. What's the matter? Having a hard time figuring out how EXTREMIS works and want me to take down the firewalls for you?"

The voice scoffed. "I merely want you to end the pain and suffering. To help yourself. It is what you are good at."

"What are you, a jilted ex?" Tony asked. "I'm a jerk. I'm selfish. Blah, blah, blah. You Skrull are clearly reading last decade's tabloids."

The intercom crackled again, loudly, as if purposefully trying to make Stark wince. "Do it. You pretend to be a hero, all while helping round up those you once called friend. You work for an agency now, doing the bidding of a President who you know was and likely still is a super villain. So prove to everyone you are not the bad guy. Silence the naysayers. Be a hero again. Use the Extremis. Save the world."

"You mean condemn it," he responded. "No. I'm on to your game. You are upping the pain, causing my body to go haywire, screwing with me because while you can tinker with things, you can't actually figure the virus out. You need me to let you in, to show you the source code essentially. So no. Bite me space elf. I'd rather blue screen than let you get your hands on the Iron Man."

Suddenly he heard a noise. Grunting, groaning, the sound of flesh ripping and bones snapping. Then the lights went out...

Opening his eyes, Tony saw the virtual mental scape fading. He was back in the real world and it was raining. Struggling to sit up, palms getting cut on broken glass and gravel, he saw the Skrulls that had been pummeling him dead and broken around him. A shadow loomed over him and for the briefest of moments he thought it was the Grim Reaper itself come to finally claim him.



"Evening, Stark," came a gravelly voice.

Blinking up at the figure Tony asked, "Spector?"

The cloaked visage of Moon Knight stared back at him. "Not tonight."

Forcing himself to his feet, everything aching, he looked to the alley and saw the teens he'd been trying to help standing, awe struck at the sight of whatever it was the vigilante had done to the Skrulls.

"Right...I...thanks," Tony said.

Moon Knight shook his head. "This wasn't for you. You and those children, you're travelers in the night. I protect those who travel in the night."

Rubbing the back of his aching head, Tony nodded. he never really did understand just what was going on with Moon Knight. The files claimed multiple personality disorder and psychosis, but he'd seen him operate with the West Coast Avengers. The guy knew how to fight, that much was certain and there were times when he did things, knew things, that seemed almost...unnatural.

Maybe there is something to his moon deity junk. Or maybe the Extremis being compromised has me as off my rocker as he is. Still, can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad he was here, Stark thought.

"I uh, don't suppose you want to help me reach my destination? Make sure I don't end up jumped again?"

"Don't press your luck. Besides, there are more of these things sweeping the boroughs looking to assail other travelers and Khonshu demands his Fist remind them who owns the night. Green blood spilled in his name is still blood," Moon Knight responded.

"Riiight...well good luck with that. Tell Spector that when this is all over, his file ended up lost. Purged from the system when the Skrull tried to gain access to confidential systems. Won't do anything for the CIA's stuff on him, but well, he won't have S.H.I.E.L.D. glancing over his shoulder like a nervous nanny anymore. Just...don't make me regret this. Please. I have enough regrets as is," Tony said.

Without a word or any acknowledgement Moon Knight fired a grappling hook from his truncheon and took off into the shadows. disappearing over a rooftop.

"Nutcase. Glad he's on our side, but still..." he grumbled.

Turning to the kids he said, "Uh, guys. You know these streets better. What's the fastest, most alien free route to get to the lower east side?"

[word count: 895]

[Rift]

A SHORT TIME LATER...



Stark had, with the aid of the teens he and Moon Knight rescued, made his way to the old brownstone. Just one of many, many properties he'd purchased over the years the place was in many ways, a getaway. A place to unwind, to be away from all the hustle and bustle of both superhero and corporate life. The views of the city helped remind him what it was like to be among normal everyday people, both those less fortunate and those who didn't have the Avengers on speed dial. It didn't hurt that he had purchased the entire building, gutted the interior, and made it over into the perfect place to be alone with his thoughts and his tools.

In the basement he stared at a table, not completely unlike the one in the mental/cyber scape he'd visited earlier in the night. This was a place for him to get back to basics, to let the engineer, the idea guy take over and just...build. Here there was no spy organizations, no super villain threats, no board meetings, no politicians. Just pure, unadulterated creativity. A place where he didn't have to wear any hats or adhere to the whims of others.

Between occasionally checking security monitors to see the ongoing invasion outside he did what he did best. He sketched designs, overlaid blueprints, welded metal, programmed chips. Running on little sleep was nothing new to him so it didn't hinder the work. Even the bruises and cuts from the Skrull beatdown were able to be ignored. It was only the occasional twinge of mental agony, the random loss of motor function, and feeling as if his blood was boiling that really interrupted the workflow.

"Still sticking to it huh? I admire your moxie, but there is no way you are figuring it out before I finish this," he said, knowing full-well that the individual trying to unlock the mysteries of the Extremis in his body couldn't actually hear him.

Placing F.R.I.D.A.Y. into a server he smirked as she projected upwards, a pink-purple sphere with a bright white center.

"Much better. More room to...breathe isn't the right word, but you get my meaning, right boss? How can I help?"

Tony pointed at the screen.

"Old design, only ever had two made, used one. Adamantium tipped missile. I've taken out the payload because it needs to be packed with something else. I need you to run the numbers, figure out how to pack it in, see if there is any additional tweaks needed to optimize the delivery system. You should have access to everything here so you can start fabrication as soon as you are ready. Meanwhile, I have two things to do. I've some messages to record and I am going to need to catch a little shuteye. It is imperative that once I do start sleeping you monitor my vitals and wake me. I cannot be down for more than three hours. So I cannot stress this enough, I don't care how little or how much sleep I've gotten, you HAVE to wake me before the three-hour mark. I don't care if whatever you have to do to wake me sends me into cardiac arrest or risks an aneurysm or whatever the case may be. You have to wake me," he explained.

"I'll make like Freddy Krueger is creeping up your backside boss," the operating system responded.

"Good. Disturbing visual, but I'll allow it. Now, let's get to work shall we?"
----------------------------------------------------------------

"So...that's it. That's the plan. I'm not saying it is a great one, but it's a plan and if it works then we have a real shot at winning this thing. Granted, this message isn't going to find you until after we know if it is a success or not, but if I'm wrong? Well, you are not going to get a chance to yell at me or tell me I told you so. But hey, if this is a last goodbye then let's not waste it on those. Now, you know me. Probably better than most. I don't go for the whole touchy-feely thing. I'm not gonna sit here and pour my heart out. I don't need to have a Doctor Phil moment. Besides, it's me, let's be honest here I would likely send a therapist into therapy with all my issues. Where was I going with this? Oh, right..."

Sitting forward as he was recorded, he moved a bag of frozen vegetables to his still swollen eye.

"Look, we both know that I have been less than comfortable doing the whole S.H.I.E.L.D thing. It was a necessary measure becoming Co-Director. People can hate me all they like, but I did the best I could with a bad situation and I'm not apologizing for it. I've tried to be the barrier between the worst instincts of politicians and the guys and gals on the ground that just want to do the right thing with their powers. I've had this conversation so many times at this point that it may as well be recorded and played back for convenience. I take the world as it is, work towards making it the way I want it to be, but realizing I have to deal with reality. So I've done the best I can. History will decide if it was good enough."

Putting the frozen bag down he shook his head. "And so taking the steps I have now? They are necessary. Because as you so astutely pointed out, you Nat, you are the spy. I'm not and no amount of community theatre Fury cosplay is gonna change that. And the intelligence community? It got outplayed. No amount of espionage was going to save us from a race of shapeshifting tyrants that impersonated our friends, our family, and anybody else of influence. The world doesn't need Tony Stark Director of S.H.I.E.L.D on this one. But it does need Iron Man."

He cleared his throat, ignoring the rapid uptick in his heart rate.

"Point is, I had a revelation. Well before the invasion started. Went on a little cross-dimensional trip with a...new friend. Saw a version of me that wasn't acting as a cog in the machine the way I have been, but was becoming one with machines. Placing the armor above everyone and everything else. Losing his humanity in the process. It wasn't pretty. But in the course of saving the victims of evil me and maybe even him, I was able to see both what I could become and how much of a crutch certain technologies have become for me. This? This is no different. They want the Extremis. Well, they can have it. Just not yet. Because Iron Man is not the tech, it's me, and futurist though I may be, at the end of the day? I'm still a man in a can."

Blinking away tears he added, "I don't know what the side effects are going to be once I do this. If I even survive this I may not...I might not be the guy you remember. And if you feel differently about me or if I can't remember...look it's been...you've been an anchor in this sea of crazy the last few years. And I appreciate it. So if I survive, if we survive, we'll talk. But I wanted you to know."

Ending the recording and setting a timer for when it would fire off, Tony laid back on a cot and closed his eyes.

"Alright. Time to go see the wizard behind the screen. Off to Oz I go."

[word count 1,294]

[Rift]

Asleep, Tony once more found himself in the middle of the strange digital/mental landscape. It looked significantly different than he was used to. Since his body had been remade by the Extremis virus, Stark had found that in some ways he was more like a machine than ever. He could literally filter and file away memories, ideas, knowledge, you name it as if it were being stored on a hard drive. In fact, it was very much organized in a similar manner to files on a computer screen, with special safeguards placed on things he was concerned about falling into the wrong hands. Normally this was represented by row after row of metal cabinets with the extra sensitive ones bolted, chained, or some combination of the two.

Now however the cabinets were free floating as bits of data flew around like snow blown on the wind, the chains and locks rusting if not outright broken. It explained why the area seemed littered with random things, vague representations of ideas and memories he'd stored away. Luckily, some of the most vital files were still secure, the areas that represented not only some of his Iron Man designs, but also other important things: like access to brain functions and heart regulation.

Still, despite the safeguards holding, he had no way of knowing how long it would last. Sooner or later the thing that had compromised Extremis would figure out a way in...or get so irritated at failing to that they caused him to flatline.

"Welcome back Anthony," came the weird, amalgamated voice once more. "I'm surprised you came of your own free will. Are you willing to accept the inevitable now?"

"Sorry sweetheart, just here to pick up a few things. Besides, don't you have an invasion to see to?" he responded as he walked towards the location that had previously resembled a workstation.

The disembodied voice chuckled. "I have all the time in the world. You, on the other hand..."

Picking up a welding mask and torch, Stark sat down, the table flickering in and out before solidifying fully.

"All the time in the world huh? Well, that answers that."

"What are you talking about?" the voice demanded.

"You aren't a Skrull, are you sunshine? Let me guess, Zeke Stane? Mandarin? Some toady I fired ages ago who thought he could make a quick buck or get some revenge by selling out the human race to a bunch of shapeshifting freaks from space? Doesn't matter. Because I know you are smart, but you are not Stark smart. An actual genius would have been subtle, worming their way into the system, testing for weak points and exploiting them. Like a fencing match. I mean that's what most hacking is, but this brute force bull in a China shop crap? That screams rank amateur. A Skrull, a loyal, fanatical member of the empire? They wouldn't have time to waste on things that don't work," Tony said as he went to work.

There was a long period of silence as he worked, the "welding" and bits of tech actually representative of important body functions.

"What, hit a little too close to home? Nothing to say now? Typical. See I realized back when I sent Mockingbird and her team after the so-called Dewitt that the Skrull are not being as careful as they should have been. Dewitt was  definitely long dead and anyone who took two seconds to do a background search on the guy would know how things ended between me and him. So for the green geeks to have screwed up that badly? Well that just screams human error. I.E. you, whoever you are, in your zeal to hurt me went ahead and gave our new alien overlords faulty intel. Not bright."

Raising the welding shield he examined his work closely.

"I mean something tells me they are not going to be very forgiving. Not to mention you what? Promised them the Iron Man as a weapon to help take over the planet? That's why the suit was overclocking and things felt off when I had my little run in with Slapstick a couple months back. You had to provide proof you could get the job done, to buy time after your screwup with the whole Dewitt thing. And now you what, have some Skrull commander glaring over your shoulder as you work to try and gain access to the suit? Well tell whatever wrinkly chinned jackass it is that if he wants a demonstration of what Extremis can do he's about to get one up close and personal."

Setting the project down he walked towards the center of the "room" and waited as a suit began to be assembled around him. A red light began blinking in his vision and one of the nearby file cabinets began rattling as if something were trying to shake it apart. Deep down he knew the red light was a warning, a sign that the one trying to wrest control of his body and the armor was damaging something important, but he ignored it and pressed on.

"And when I say you are not smart, I want to be clear. I don't mean you are community college vs MIT or Apple as compared to, well Stark Industries. I am saying that if you don't already, you probably should ride the short bus," Tony said.

An intercom like squeal sounded and the voice responded. "I'm not smart? I'm dumb? Look at you Stark. You came here knowing I can kill you and despite having no reason to keep fighting. Your "friends" out in the real world? They hate you. The public hates you. They call you a tyrant and a fascist. You don't even have the respect of the people you work with. You may be their boss, but people like Dum Dum Dugan think you are a paper pushing nerd, not a soldier. Not a warrior like Fury. Hill tolerates you because she has no choice. Osborn can't wait for you to fall. In fact anything that went wrong here he's gonna blame on you. For that matter so will the Avengers. And don't get me started on Coulson. I mean he went behind your back. Decided that he could be the deciding factor in how Carol was punished for her stunt with the Skrull Queen. Risked national security and all without you being the wiser. Why? Not because they thought you could be a Skrull, but because you can't be trusted just by being you!"

Tony just smirked in response.

"What are you smiling over? Huh? You are already beaten. Already dead, your mind just has to catch up to the rest of the body!"

"I'm smiling because whoever you are, you've got to be someone new or at least newish. I mean otherwise you'd know better than to ever count me out. I didn't know? Please. I had S.H.I.E.L.D hacked and completely wired since ten minutes before I accepted the position as Director because I knew those guys don't play nice with others. They are not forthcoming and half of them are still waiting for Nicky to come strolling into a Hellicarrier and take back over. I admit, Phil's little coup? Hurt my feelings sure, but I knew. I was listening in the entire time he chat with Carol and Veranke and Grimm. I didn't act on it, because in the end I needed someone like him in the field, not sitting behind bars or fired. I didn't need Carol dragged through endless hearings and court proceedings after all the crap she's already been through. Was it reckless? Stupid? Outright insulting? Sure, but look who is talking. I was the king of screwups, but I also got a second chance. Hell, more than two chances. Who am I to deny that to a woman I consider a friend? And in Phil's defense he had no way of knowing I wasn't a Skrull. Half the folks around me act like they think I am some kind of alien the moment I start talking tech."

The voice was silent once more.

"And I'll tell you something else. Ever since I knew Extremis was compromised? I've been working on a countermeasure, a solution. I didn't store any of my work digitally, I didn't file it away anywhere here. There's a reason I didn't use it and relied on a retrofitted relic when I went to that other dimension. See, I've been so busy second guessing myself, worrying about if I am being a good Director that I almost forgot who I am. I'm a designer, an engineer, and frankly? I'm the best. Time to remind everyone, myself included of why that is. See Extremis? It's advanced sure, better than the junk on the market now, way better than DARPA crap, but at this point it is old hat. No longer cutting edge. And in the tech business that means it may as well be sold for half off on a Wally World shelf. And me? I'm all about the future, about what's next," Tony said, acutely aware that even more warnings were going off as whoever was hacking Extremis began to full-scale try to pry the secrets of it out.

Stark suddenly noticed that he was hot. Very hot. Running a fever that was inching close to fatal. His heartrate was going through the roof, a pulsing in his temple made it hard to concentrate, and everything felt as if he was on a merry-go-round as the wolrd began to spin.

Come on F.R.I.D.A.Y! Don't let me go out like...
-----------------------------------------------------------

Back in reality Stark sat up on the cot and yelled, the smell of burnt ozone filling his nostrils.

"YOUCH! I...is that burnt toast? Did that Dollar Tree hacker just give me a stroke? I..."

"No boss. I tried more conventional methods of waking you, but had to resort to an electric shock, a pulse sent through diodes on your body. It might have singed some hair, but hey, your awake!" F.R.I.D.A.Y announced cheerfully. "Also, fabrication is done. The missile is ready to be loaded on the Model 13, but you have to place the payload."

Panting, his heart still racing, Tony wiped sweat from his brow.

"Awesome. Great. Get the roof ready for launch and send those messages. I'll handle the missile. It's time we go take the fight to the ones behind this. And F.R.I.D.A.Y? Ready my music. I'm gonna need some Ozzy."

[word count: 1,771]

[Rift]

HIGH ABOVE NEW YORK...



Iron Man rocketed through the sky, deftly weaving between fighter jets that were no doubt operated by Skrull impersonating Navy or Airforce pilots. Using Extremis and the connections it gave him to technology, he scrambled radar and communications, pumping rock music through every mic and speaker available. He could have merely shut them down, but Tony loved making an entrance and this was no exception.

Sure I could take down the jets easily, but A) Norman would complain about me damaging government property and B) I don't have time to make sure that the debris won't harm folks down below. So for now I'll settle for screwing with their systems to the point that they are little more than a couple hundred million dollars worth of flying junk, he thought.

Approaching his target he broadcast a digital sequence that created a gap in the shielding of a Skrull command ship, large enough for a sedan to pass through. As Skrull fighters shrieked past, firing on him, he trusted F.R.I.D.A.Y to maneuver the Model 13 armor through the unending streaks of plasma. With the operating system taking care of guiding him through the shield's opening, he focused on other things, such as deploying the counter measure he'd worked on in the Virtual Dreamscape. It was a stop gap at best, but it should buy him enough time to do what he needed to do before the mysterious hacker made his or her way deeper into the base code of the Extremis Virus.

"We're through boss, but the shield is back up. No damage taken yet, but there is a fluctuation in power levels," F.R.I.D.A.Y said.

"Good work. Now take us in. It's time to properly introduce myself." Tony said.

Moments later metal turned molten and bubbled up before blasting inwards, granting Iron Man access to the ship. The armor deployed boosters along hardpoints to slow his momentum. Landing in a crouch he looked around the hanger even as the ship seemingly repaired or at least locked down the makeshift entrance he had created. As Skrull forces rushed in, blasters at the ready, he stood, repulsors glowing brightly through the smoke.

"Knock, knock. Say, you guys wouldn't happen to be able to point me to the emerald eld in charge? I don't like them playing with my stuff."

What followed was a masterclass in why people, villains and allies alike, feared Tony Stark.

Weapons stopped working as repulsor beams blasted Skrull warriors back. Rifles, bladed weapons, and more short circuited and overloaded, blowing up in hands and spraying the hanger with green ichor. Mechanical apertures that held Skrull starfighters at the ready suddenly sprang open like a claw machine game, dropping the starfighters to either blow up or crush forces below.

The entire time Iron Man was almost robot-like in efficiency, acting more machine than man as he fired off an arsenal of weaponry. Sonic disruptors caused Skrulls to bleed from the nose, miniature missiles target locked and bent around cover to find the aliens, and a hexagonal shield deflected fire back at those who were able to get shots off at the hero.

After a few moments the hanger was burning, curses in an alien tongue rang out through the wreckage, and Stark stood glancing around, his HUD placing reticules over any of the Skrulls still capable of being a threat.

"No? Alright. Guess I'll have to go find them myself to lodge my complaint. Uh, don't wait up."

[word count: 592]

[Rift]

THE BRIDGE...

"Th-that all you have?" Iron Man asked as he stumbled forward onto the command deck.

His armor was ragged, bent and broken in areas. Warning lights flashed in his HUD until he had to turn them off. The one compromising the Extremis virus in his body had gotten through the first of multiple layers of firewalls that separated them from what Stark thought of as the source code. Inside was not only the secret to the Extremis itself, but also to him. Since relying on the virus to rebuild himself, he had systematically improved his own form, tweaking things to be more efficient, memories to store and recall faster and better, and over all change how the human form functioned. Once they managed to get past the rest of his hastily made safeguards, they'd be in to the higher level functions, able to poke around his brain and likely take complete control of his body. It was why he had gone in taking no prisoners as he fought the Skrull invaders aboard their ship. Time was of the essence...and it was running out.

While his initial clash with the alien shapeshifters had gone his way, it didn't take long for him to be reminded of not only why they were so formidable, but also of the limitations the old Modular Armor had. It had already been destroyed once, the suit he now wore a replication of the original, and based on the energy readings he was receiving the replacement was going much the way or the original article.

Skrull weaponry is bad enough. Having my very brain hacked like a secure server with inefficient virus protection? Worse. But they just had to have a prototype Super-Skrull aboard, he lamented.

"Stark. I've been informed about you. Seen videos, spoken to those who have the memories of your so-called allies and friends. The big bad futurist always three steps ahead creating solutions to problems that don't exist yet. And now here you are in an outdated bucket fighting the future of Skrull kind, ready to keel over dead. And for what? This is just one of many command ships. We are not stupid Avenger. We didn't link everything to a mothership. We've seen your sad little Terran movies. We know how little your kind thinks of anything non-human. And here you are, dying, as you underestimate us. Not so smart now are you?" the Skrull mocked.

Tony didn't get a chance to answer. Whatever powers this Skrull was replicating they came from at least two or more very power people. Under normal circumstances Stark would have been going over the data, admiring the detailed recreation of powers, and deployed counter measures based on those he'd already developed against the likely heroes they were copied from.

This was anything but ordinary.

Instead, Tony was working to keep up barriers in his mind, to prevent the hacker, wherever they may be, from burrowing any deeper. All other data was just useless noise as far as he was concerned. And so he took the hits, punches that singed and melted metal plating and blasts of energy that overcharged weapons systems until circuitry and wires were sparking and spewing smoke.

Dropping to his knees a lens on the helmet cracked and shattered as the strange new Skrull struck him with a massive fist.

"I want to see the smugness fade from your face. Witness the death of a man so arrogant he started batting outside his league as you humans say, when you thought you could play super spy. I don't care if they can get into your secrets yet. My superiors can punish me later. I just have to see...what? What is..."

As the helmet came off in the Skrull's hands there was no bloodied and broken Tony Stark beneath it nor was there a smirking grin. Instead there was...nothing.

"Sorry to disappoint Kermit, but I just needed the distraction. And you've done admirably. I'd ask who you are copying, but honestly it doesn't matter. Because as of two seconds ago? Well you're yesterday's news. F.R.I.D.A.Y. destroy Model 13. Toodles, I have bigger fish to fry."

[word count: 701]

[Rift]

NEARBY, HELLICARRIER EXTERIOR



Tony Stark clung to a portion of the Hellicarrier, his body feeling as if it were being torn apart. Muscles felt as though they were stretching to the point of snapping, bones suddenly felt far heavier then they were, and nerve endings were firing off random pain signals alternating between feeling like deep seated burned and electrical discharges. Still, despite the pain caused by the continued hacking into Extremis, he was able to force a smile as the Skrull ship in the near distance exploded in a ball of blue-white fire.

While he hated to have to see any of his armors go, the blast caused by detonating the Model 13 Modular Armor was so spectacular it almost took away the sting. Remote piloting the armor as a distraction while he pursued his real goal was a last minute improvisation, but one he was glad he'd come up with. News of the F.R.I.D.A.Y piloted armor attacking the Skrull fleet seemingly at random had served its purpose and drew both eyes and personnel away from Stark as he struggled to maintain control over his body and armor and reach the command deck of the Hellicarrier.

Finding a maintenance access tunnel he sent a signal to it causing it to spring open and allow Iron Man, clad in full Extremis Armor, to enter. Making his way through the narrow passageways he sent a mental signal to the Stark Industries scanners that kept track of every single S.H.I.E.L.D. operative aboard. The information the sensors sent back was a mixed bag.

On the plus side, Maria Hill whether she was the genuine article or a Skrull imposter was not aboard. That meant while his office and quarters were likely on lockdown, he would not in fact, be locked out of them. The bad part however came in the form of various S.H.I.E.L.D. agents being held in cells designed to contain threats the level of Hulk or Doctor Doom. That meant he was likely on his own once he got inside.

At least they are as safe as can be in the cells. And if something goes wrong and the Hellicarrier starts to go down the cells will jettison with safety protocols guiding them to the ground. Too bad though, I could have used some help. What with my body deciding today is upside down and opposite day. Oh well. No good deed as they say...

Noticing moisture that he had to assume was blood dripping from his nose, Tony picked up the pace, exiting the maintenance shaft and entering an internal hanger area. Before stepping into the open he sent a signal that set all security cameras to play video on a loop, video from days before showing nothing but an empty hanger.

Old school, but effective. Don't want to risk the concentration it would take to trigger stealth mode. Nat would be proud, Tony thought.

Having the armor retract into the hallows if his bones Tony couldn't help but wince, the pain that was never before present when he concealed the armor almost doubling him over. Gasping for air he almost hit his knee, but remained upright, retching as he wiped blood from his face and pulled a hat down over his eyes.

Dressed as a S.H.I.E.L.D approved maintenance worker he rushed up stairs past armed Skrulls, careful to avert his eyes.

"Hey you!" one of the Skrull shouted, freezing him in his tracks.

Turning around sheepishly, still careful to not make eye contact, he said, "Yes?"

"All techs are supposed to meet in the containment area. Command wants those cells open. Get on it!"

"By your command," Stark responded quoting a sci-fi show he'd enjoyed.

The Skrull then returned back to their posts and Tony couldn't help but swallow deeply.

Thank God they don't watch Galactica, he thought.

Moving through catwalks and corridors Tony slipped into an elevator that would take him to his office, sharing the ride with Skrulls of various ranks still wearing their S.H.I.E.L.D issued gear. It was all he could do to remain upright, his vision once more flickering like the dying gasps of an old monitor. Getting off on the appropriate floor he kept his head down as he walked past various Skrull still trying to figure out what had happened on the command ship.

"I don't care! The commander is going to need some sort of confirmation one way or the other! Was it Stark and is he dead? We have enough problems with the traitor Veranke making moves and their stupid President grandstanding, we can't afford to have the Co-Director interfering or creating any kind of opening for the Avengers. Get me answers!" one of the aliens demanded.

Tony stifled a laugh as he headed up stairs, stopping just before the entrance to his office. Two Skrull who stood guard looked at him, realization setting in a second too late. Having Extremis flow over his hand Tony fired a repulsor after placing his palm on the chest of the nearest guard, a hole burning through the alien. The other swung the butt of his rifle at Stark's face only for it to shatter against the partially formed jaw portion of his helmet. Grabbing the long ear of the Skrull and wrenching its head sideways Tony sent a gauntleted fist into its face, loosening teeth, before he flipped it over the railing.

As shots rang out around him, bullets and energy beams alike striking the wall, Tony placed his hand on the reader and slipped inside his office, sealing the door behind him.

"Open all communication channels. I want to address everyone in the world that can hear this, including Skrull forces and Avengers channels. Authorization Stark, Director. Reboot all Hellicarrier internal defenses and place them on standby to target all non-S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. Begin broadcast."

His desk folded in on itself and moved into the floor as a circular platform raised in the center of the room. Lights began flickering on around it as robotic limbs holding cameras began recording. Across Skrull ships and S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities blue-white holographic images of Tony filled screens while regular television simply shared the feed from his office. His armor began retracting once more, this time clearly distorting and even injuring him as flesh tore. Blood dripping down his arm, Tony looked into the camera.

"Hello dear hearts. Miss me? Now I know what you are thinking. Tony, where the hell have you been? Why haven't our heroes fought back? It has been a week and some change and I still can't step out my front door without some wannabe Marvin the Martian trying to round me up, what gives? Well fear not kiddoes because all that changes starting now. See I've been thinking. Its kind of my thing. Thinking, dreaming, trying to push humanity forward and protect our future in world where scary stuff like evil space invaders are kind of par for the course any given week. Thing is, thinking, especially about the big picture as I like to do, requires time and attention to detail. Time and attention are two things I have not had much of since I took this gig as Co-Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Whether I get to keep that gig when all this is said and done? Well, that's a conversation for another time. For now, we need to focus on what has to be one of my top three favorite subjects: me."

A laser-like wall of energy sprang up from the floor near the entrance, another barrier meant to slow the Skrull warriors trying to access his office.

"Long story short I've been mighty uncomfortable lately. Focused on whether or not this whole S.H.I.E.L.D thing fit me or rather whether I fit it. Sometimes I feel like I have just been play acting. When you get down to it I am a lot of things. Businessman, inventor, engineer, mechanic, playboy, philanthropist, founding member of the Avengers...I've got a resume. I wear many different hats, but sometimes they don't feel like they fit. I mean adhering to red tape instead of cutting through it, telling people what I have planned instead of just doing it, obeying orders because some mealy mouthed pencil pusher in the Pentagon is wringing his hands over this or that from one day to the next? That kind of flies in the face of everything...me."

Flicking his wrist the floor just outside his office began to glow as the plating electrified.

"And when you get down to it that's what this whole invasion is about. Delusions of grandeur and pretending to be what you are not. That's why the Skrull have been more successful than those that tried before them. They make us doubt ourselves. They destroy our trust in institutions, authorities, leadership, even our own kin. They've infiltrated government, tech industries, local police, you name it. They pretend to be our neighbors, our family, our friends. And it is almost impossible to tell who is who and what is what because like the chameleons they are they blend in just so well. For awhile now me and the handful of people I took the chance of trusting with knowledge of this invasion have been wracking out brains trying to figure it out. How can you tell who is an alien and who isn't when they copy the very DNA of the individual they are impersonating? And yes, I know some of you are gonna be ticked I didn't count you among those I could trust and if I survive this you can yell at me until you are blue in the face, but for now, just listen."

The electrified panels were tore to pieced and the metal door was being hammered, indentations forming. At the same time Tony's fever spiked, his nose began bleeding heavier, and his eye began twitching as veins seemed to poof outwards along his neck and face.

"I've figured it out. How to restore a little bit of that trust they stole from all of us. If I wasn't so busy pretending to be an espionage expert, if I wasn't impersonating a politician? Maybe I'd have seen it sooner. I had to get out of my own way and get back to being who I am. And you already know who that is. So when this broadcast ends? That's going to be your chance, the opening you've been waiting for. Because while I don't know how long it will last, I am about to rip the rubber mask off the monsters. So heroes, whether you wear a badge, a costume, or just plain help your family get ready for a show. And Avengers...its time to Assemble. Hope I see you all on the other side and if I'm not...me as you remember me, then well, it's been fun. No hard feelings."

As the final defenses fell away and Skrull rushed into the office, Tony seemed to have a seizure, his eyes crackling with white energy and the armor seemingly all moving to the tip of his index finger, metal plates like the scales of a reptile covering his hand. Lurching backwards he threw himself over to a console and slid his finger over a USB slot, bits of armor extending into it, flickering happening across his form.



"ENOUGH! Director Stark, stand down now!" a Skrull demanded, weapon pointed at him.

"I don't think so Jolly Green. You screwed up. You aren't facing the Co-Director of S.H.I.E.L.D you are going up against Iron...

The broadcast turned to static. As he collapsed, Tony smiled. His safeguard, the one built in the virtual mentalscape provided by Extremis had just been breached, but it was too late. His special project had just been uploaded. Extremis, reprogrammed by him to be closer to its base function when it was first invented by Maya Hansen, had been sent into the network. It was traveling through S.H.I.E.L.D communications, fiberoptic cables connecting various military installations around the globe, and even to a series of satellites in high orbit. Any Skrull listening in or in close proximity to servers or access points was about to be hit with just the tiniest bit of the Extremis Virus. Only they were receiving only one basic function: a DNA rewrite that would, even if only temporarily, return them to their true green forms, revealing them to all.

Crawling as if on auto-pilot past the now screaming Skrull in the room, Tony pressed a space near where his chair would have been, and fell into a pod-like chamber meant to allow the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D a quick escape should the Hellicarrier ever go down. As he rocketed downwards, the pod blasting into Hudson Bay, it was anyone's guess just what damage he'd done to himself expelling the tech virus, but whatever the case he'd given the world a window of opportunity, a fighting chance, and he did it as Iron Man.

THE END?

[word count: 2219]