Psych-o-iatrist (Akefia/Marik) Part 2

The second installment of my Sickleshipping fanfic, enjoy.

Sitting in the waiting room with his eldest sibling, Marik quietly turned the disk he held in one hand. The fluorescent lighting from above causing the flat circle to cast a rainbow over his face as he glared at his own colorful reflection.
Somehow this was going to help his therapist crack him and put him back together the way society saw fit. How dare they think something was wrong with him? Admittedly he was different from most people but variety was the spice of life. So, how dare they want to take that away and make a bland world?
The spiky haired youth sighed heavily. His therapist, Dr. Akefia was it? No matter, wanted him to burn a CD of some of his favorite songs. So he did just that. Ishizu and Odion surprised by his cooperation though knew better than to question it or risk their little brother going on a rampage through the house. As far as they were concerned about the harmless collection of music, it was best to keep close but out of the wild man’s hair or chance him setting the curtains ablaze.
“No!” screamed a voice from down the hall. Footsteps rushing towards the waiting room only for a hard thud to follow. A kid with long black hair just visible and picking himself up at the last second. Two adults were hot on his tail as the strange child went screaming through the double doors and out into the outside world. “You’ll never make me!” the voice trailed off. The men running after him calling something, most likely the child’s name.
Enjoying the bit of chaos, the blonde perked up, his gaze at the door in anticipation of wanting to see events unfold. Maybe the child would find himself diving into a car, trying to jack it, and cause a delightful high speed chase! Sadly though, it seemed more likely that the men after him were going to catch up and restrain him. How dull.
Feeling his excitement ebb away, Marik leaned back into his chair. “So much for that,” he muttered bitterly. The CD turning between both hands now to the multihued side would turn into the plain white top. His name scribbled onto it in all capitals. Oh how that caused an unspoken disapproval in his sister when she saw the R and not the L. Couldn’t she tell the difference between him and that weakling?
A disgusted frown crossed his face at the very thought. “Malik Ishtar?” A woman called from the hall where the raven haired child had ran from minutes ago. Her smile wavering when she meet his cold glare. “I-I mean… M-Marik?” She corrected. The paperwork in her hands having a little note she had accidentally overlooked under the man’s given name.
“Behave,” Odion reminded as the blonde rose to his feet. His violet eyes closing long enough for him to calm himself down just enough to keep from saying something cruel to his adopted sibling. The bald man’s lips lifting into something a little more friendly but not quite a smile. “See you in an hour.”
An hour. Great. Sixty minutes trapped in a room with a stranger that would be trying to change him. Make him more fit for the world. The idea itself was revolting. All because he killed his father? Psh, the man deserved worse than what he had gotten. Much worse. Had no one stopped him, he would have given that cruel fucker just what he had coming to him.
Stopping with the underling worker of the establishment, Marik closed his eyes tight and tried to will the image of his father away. The blood pooling back into the elder’s corpse though the body remained leaning upright with dead eyes staring back at him. What a pathetic mess.
“Marik, come in,” spoke an unseen male. The Ishtar slowly opened his eyes to see that his shrink was motioning him into his office. The lady who once stood beside him gone just like the vision of his dead father. “Ah, I see you’ve brought me a gift.”
“It’s just the CD you wanted,” the blonde countered.
“That might be so but you did bring it for me.” Sitting behind his desk, the other leaned forward with one outstretched hand wanting the compact disk. A pleasant grin sliding over his face as he took the object and flipping it over to see the name Marik scribbled into it in all capital lettering. “Excellent.”
Marik just frowned before turning to take a seat in the chair opposite of the oddly cheery shrink. Why had he simply just handed it over? Why didn’t he break it in front of him and tell him to analyze that?
“So tell me, how has your week been?” Akefia asked while holding the CD in one hand and opening his desk drawer with the other. A slim casing was pulled and the disk promptly put inside.
Rolling his eyes, Marik turned around and plopped into the expensive chair. “What a typical question. Surely you have something better to ask of me,” he muttered, seemingly bored already. He folded his hands together before leaning forward in his seat. “How about you tell me how your’s was?”
Putting the item he held into the drawer, the head doctor chuckled lightly as he pushed the drawer back into place. “Very well. My week consisted of seeing other patients, getting stabbed with a plastic knife by one, then mostly going home to drink beer and watch television with my brother.”
“You were stabbed?” Marik asked sounding a little interested. He watched as his therapist pulled up his left sleeve of his suit to reveal a small gash from when he had been attacked. The younger male’s enthusiasm quickly dying down when he saw it was no real damage though it had been enough to make the other bleed at one point.
“Nothing too dramatic. The young woman apparently did not like what I had to say.”
“What happened to the girl?” Ishtar questioned. “Was it here?” If it had been then she was most likely carted away and restrained till police arrived, even if it was a minor stabbing.
Leaning back into his plush chair, Akefia ran his tongue over his lower lip as if in deep thought. His nose twitching from the memory though he quickly smiled before turning his own violet gaze to the other male present.
“Well, I regret to say that I didn’t handle it very professionally.” That caught the blonde off guard. Was this man serious?
“What did you do?” he asked while leaning a bit closer like a curious child around the campfire being told a scary story. “You stab her back?” He wondered out loud, sounding hopeful.
The question earned a light hearted chuckle from the therapist. “That would have been well deserved now, wouldn’t it?” Akefia watched the other closely. His eyes looking for the faintest movement and he could not resist a grin when he saw the flicker of a smile on the young one’s lips.
“Justified,” Marik mused before giving a faint nod of his head. “But not enough. They say an eye for an eye but I think it should be more than that.” Just returning the favor after someone had wronged you did not seem like full justice. Getting an extra hit or stab in to reassure that the one who did wrong would never do it again seemed far more appropriate.
Picking up a pen with his left hand, the shrink make a few quick twirling gestures onto the pad on his desk. Cursive most likely being used, Marik thought to himself, that or the other just wanted to scribble for seemingly no reason. “To reassure that the crime will never be repeated?” He asked while his right hand drummed against the desk’s surface.
Was this guy a mind reader like his sister? “Yeah,” he trailed off.
“What about the possibility that you simply want revenge? To make up for the pain they given you?” The drumming stopped and dark eyes looked up towards the youth.
Silence passed between the two while Marik shifted in his seat. His eyes closed as he tried to think of what to say. Would agreeing to what this man had to say condemn him or would it truly be confidential like it was said to be? It wasn’t until a full minute passed that he spoke. “Why does anyone do anything? People are selfish creatures and it’s only natural for revenge to come to mind.”
“Many would argue with that. They would spout bullshit saying things like, we can control that urge.” Akefia frowned and tilted his head to the side. His right hand reaching up to tug at his tie and loosen it around his neck. “Pardon my choice words.”
“No. Don’t apologize. I liked it,” the Ishtar mused. “It made you seem more real for once unlike all the other tightwads I’ve seen.” He shifted in the overly large chair and turned himself to the side. Legs draping over the armrest to allow him to feel more comfortable.
“Very well,” he paused for a lingering moment to collect himself despite being reassured that it was fine to let his guard down. “They act like you can control your thoughts when you can’t. The best you can do is deal with them how you see fit or as how society deems acceptable.”
A frown crossed the blonde’s face. “What do you mean?”
Putting the pen down, Akefia straightened himself up for a moment as if to pop his back and then leaned forward a ways. The lights in the room casting a small shadow over his desk. “Society wants us to act all in a way that is beneficial to everyone. If it’s selfish then they want you to overlook that thought and feel bad for having it when really it should not matter what you are or were thinking so long as you know what is best for you.”
Licking his lips as he tried to absorb what had been said, the wild haired male leaned back against the other armrest and this time gazed off at the ceiling. Was this a trick or did the elder man really believe in what he had to say? He had an interesting way of thinking at the very least. Again silence passed between the two of them though when Marik turned his head and opened his eyes to look at the doctor, he found him scribbling something else down onto his notepad. Just what all could he glean from him in their shared silence?
“You never said just what it was that you did to her. The girl who stabbed you, I mean,” he clarified.
“You’re right.” Akefia continued to write something down. His attention on his work rather than the patient that sat across from him. “I didn’t tell you but if I did, would it change your opinion of me?” This time the therapist moved the pen to his other hand and flexed his left. His fingers having cramped on him, making it all too difficult to keep writing with that hand.
Had he an opinion of the other already? Marik took the time to think about it. Sure he had concluded that Akefia was a professional asshole but that was what all doctors were. Snooty and thinking far too highly of themselves. But there was something different about this shrink. He asked strange questions, asked for an odd favor, and there was something else to him that Marik just could not place. Something dark but powerful. Something that demanded respect rather than asking for it.
“I don’t know. I guess we will have to wait and see.” He watched as the other at last looked up with a crooked grin. A looming shadow still covering half of his face.
“I guess we will. Though I’m afraid that our time is up.” The white haired male stood up from his chair and stepped to the side of his desk. “Perhaps next week we can get more into the topic of the world on how corrupt it really is. Though I suspect we will also be having a,” he hesitated for a second. “Special chat about you.” The grin remained firmly on his face as he motioned for the Ishtar to rise and without questioning him, Marik stood up and followed the other close behind.
Special chat about him? This whole court ordered ordeal of him seeing this nut doctor was about him. Then it occurred to him. The CD he gave the other Egyptian. Perhaps that was what he meant.
“Goodnight, Marik. I look forward to seeing you next week. Same time?” the shrink asked. The blonde nodded his head weakly. As if he had a choice in whether or not he could get out of seeing this quack. “I’ll see you then.”
Without a second thought, Marik raised one hand to his side when he passed the other. His middle finger extended into the air as he walked down the hall to where his step brother was waiting for him. “Yeah, I’ll see you in hell.” After all, that was what this place was going to be wasn’t it? His own little slice of hell that he had to share with others that society deemed wrecked and mentally imbalanced. In his case, the court system saw him as both.
“Hell?” Akeifa mouthed to himself with a weak chuckle. Is that was this place was? Oh, if only he really knew, the psychiatrist thought to himself.

Part one.

Psych-o-iatrist (Akefia/Marik fanfic)

Wrote a fun Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfic. I miss my fandom.

“Don’t call me that!” The blonde male scratched his scalp with both hands roughly to make his hair stand on end. The once limp locks poking out in every direction now except for his bangs that seemed content on drooping down.
“But that is your name, Malik.” His sister retorted. The ink pen in her hand scratching down delicate letters into the answer boxes. “I really wish you would at least accept that.”
Anger crossed the younger sibling’s face as he glared passed the raven haired woman to their step-brother that sat adjacent to her. “Odion, you of all people don’t think I belong here, right? Tell Ishizu that I don’t need a fourth psychiatrist!”
The scratching stopped and now two sets of eyes were boring into the unfortunate man’s soul. Each set daring the silent giant to break their trust in favor for the other. Olive eyes closed as the very man shifted slightly in his seat. “I believe you are only getting a fourth one because the first two committed suicide and the third one strongly kept referring us to this one.”
“Traitor!” Odion slowly opened his eyes to stare across to his step-brother with a pained expression though said nothing. “This entire thing is a cruel joke! I fucking hate it!”
“Malik, that’s enough!” Ishizu glanced around the room only to see one other couple waiting with them and the receptionist behind the desk. Still, she did not want her little brother to cause such a scene even if the others present somewhat expected it from a patient seeking help.
Furious with his scolding, the blonde jolted upright, flipping the table in front of himself over in one swift motion. The ornamental vase that once rested on it now rolling across the reflective marble floor. It’s white camellia flower no longer standing tall to greet waiting room guests.
“Master, please.” Odion placed a hand over the frustrated younger’s shoulder in hopes of calming him down. For a moment it seemed to have worked. The violet set of eyes appeared to have softened in a hint of regret for their master’s actions up till a familiar name was spoken.
“Get off of me, you fool!” The wild haired male brushed the other’s hand aside before walking around the knocked over piece of furniture. “My name isn’t Malik,” his voice struggling to sound calm. “It’s Marik. Say it.”
Looking puzzled, the woman stuttered to say something before giving a small bow in apology. “Forgive me,” her head dipped back up with a worrisome smile as she tried to accept that what she assumed to be a brat was demanding respect that he did not deserve. “Marik.”
Still in a bitter mood, the young Egyptian tsked under his breath before motioning for the staff worker to show him where to go. As horrible as being forced to attend such a place was he figured that he might as well get it out of the way. The sooner the better and if he was lucky, perhaps this new one might finally throw in the towel so he could be free of the pathetic shrinks that wanted to probe his mind and fix the damages of events long passed.
Odion withheld a sigh while Ishizu let her’s go freely. Each of them wanted what was best for their little brother but so far, nothing they tried had worked and only after they each had prayed to the heavens for some help did they get a call of recommendation. Perhaps this was the break they needed. Maybe this time they could finally give Malik the help he needed to cope with past events that tainted his innocents several years ago.
Further down the blank halls the two walked. The only thing possibly considered art were the overly large doors that were just as blindingly devoid of color like the walls around them. The knobs were mercifully silver but even that was ungodly pale for the young Ishtar’s tastes.
“Right this way,” the woman beckoned as she stopped before the second to last door on the right. Her fake smile remaining plastered to her pale face despite Marik’s frown. He knew she was avoiding his name and for some reason, he resented her for it.
Wanting to say something snide, Marik tilted his head far to one side, his frown melting into a slow but wide grin. White teeth appearing like stuffing though taught thread on a bloated teddybear. “Stab a knife through her head, makes a girl wind up dead.” Sure, it was not snide like he originally wanted but it did remove that sickening smile from her face and that was what he wanted for that moment in time.
Rolling his head around his shoulders, Marik slowly rolled it back into place. His cheshire grin never wavering as he slipped inside and closed the door behind himself. Yes. That woman’s fearful glance as the barrier separated him made him feel alive, if only for the time being.
Quietly, the boy let his joy fade into his system as he looked around the dimly lit room. His expectations of more white against white not coming true. Instead the walls were brown, rich with natural wood and thick red drapes that hung around the gargantuan windows. The atmosphere a little gloomy but Marik found that to be strangely acceptable.
“Would you care for a seat?” The blonde drew his attention away from the windows towards the far side of the room where the voice had originated from. A large and very plush chair placed with it’s back to him causing the Egyptian to stand perfectly still.
This was beyond strange. The others he had talked too always had light bright rooms and were always facing him as if they needed to be ready to chase after him- which one time one did.
“Who are you?”
“Ah, good question!” The unseen person chuckled. “I am Dr. Akefia but really the title isn’t that important. Actually, my name isn’t of much value either. The real important question is, who are you?” The chair spun around to reveal another dark skinned male with white hair just long enough to cover half of his face when he sat hunched over.
The blonde snorted. “It’s in my file.”
“Hm… Yes. I read your file but I know that not everything written down in it is accurate. So tell me, what is your real name?” Akefia placed his white gloved hands on the desk in front of him, still hunched over enough to cast a long shadow over his face. His small toothy grin one of two defining characteristics the patient could focus on other than white hair.
Intrigued though still skeptical, the younger of the two stepped away from the door to the chair closest to him. One hand caressing the fine leather as he moved around it. “Everyone calls me Malik but I’m not him. I’m not as pathetic as him.”
“I’m afraid that only tells me who you are not.”
“Marik. Call me Marik.” His violet gaze narrowed, challenging the elder to contradict him.
“Marik, huh? Alright.” Akefia shoved himself back into his seat, eyes pointed upward towards the ceiling in thought. “So tell me, Marik, why would anyone bring someone sane like you to see a shrink?” The ceiling no longer of interest to him, the white haired male now looked back intently at his guest.
Baffled by the other’s actions, the Ishtar sat down with a quiet thump, expression blank despite the whirling questions that moved in his skull with the nimble grace of a ballerina. “A court order. Apparently killing your father is a serious crime.” It was far from the sarcastic response he originally wanted to give but Marik hoped that point blank honesty would get him the jolt of fear he expected to see. Instead he was surprised as the other man nodded his head in agreement.
“If reports are to be believed then you went out of your way to administer as much pain to him as you possibly could before killing him.” His smile shrinking in size just a bit. “Is that true?”
At last! Fear! “Yes,” Marik replied simply. His inner delight growing as the other’s smile faded just a little more than before. The truth however was different. As much as he wanted to make the man that he called father suffer, he had been interrupted and forced to make the killing blow sooner than he liked.
“I see.” A light cough of a chuckle cleared his throat before the well dressed man flicked his wrist and jabbed two fingers onto his desk. “It looks to me as if you were unsure of yourself. Take a look.” In one smooth action, Akefia slid his fingers further up the desk. A cream colored folder eventually peeking over the edge of the lavish wood.
Breath caught in his throat, Marik looked from the psychiatrist to the presented folder. Was this a test? “You’re lying,” he growled. How dare this man take him for a fool?
“Why do you think- oh,” Akefia chuckled. He then stood up from his seat to move towards the window. “The others would be afraid to show you your handy work in fear that it would induce old feelings. In all honesty, I think it would be too difficult for you to muster up that precise hatred again. After all, your father isn’t exactly around any more to keep it burning.”
Marik gritted his teeth together before grabbing the folder and turning it around on his lap. A new light source pouring into the room as the dark skinned psychiatrist opened up the blinds. Cursing under his breath, the blonde opened the item and thumbed through it’s contents. Much to his surprise, this really had been his records. Personal files that not even he was meant to look at, at least the other three shrinks he had seen told him that it was for them to read and him not to worry about. Pictures of bloodied halls were paper clipped in the corners in a small stack till he wiggled them free and shuffled through each one.
“You said I was… unsure of myself?” A bloody rectangle of flesh laid over sandstone flooring. The next that of his father on his stomach. A large patch of exposed meat taking over his entire back. Oh if only Marik could go back in time and push himself to go just a little quicker with his work then maybe he could have done some more damage before that sick bastard’s heart had given out.
“Indeed, I did.” Akefia turned around, now standing in the light. An even greater shadow being cast across the room then before making it impossible to read his expressions. “I do see plenty of conviction to what you have done but I also see what appears to have been a struggle.” Of course, Marik thought, the old man naturally put up a fight. “It looks like part of you was in regret.”
“What?” Photos dropped from his hands as the rest of his file tumbled around his feet. “Hell no- fuck no!” The last remainders of his written report now laid scattered on the hard floor as he jumped to his feet, hands curled tightly into fists. “The only regret I have is not ripping out his heart and eating it in front of him!” This was definitely not something he meant to say but the hatred inside of him had been stirred and risen too close to the surface not to pop.
“I see.” Humming in his throat, the man twisted the rod between his fingers to darken the room once more. His silhouette bleaching back into a more crisp form, crisp charcoal hued suit coming back into sight along with his white gloved hands that continued to toy with the blinds just a moment longer then necessary. “What about Malik?”
“What about him?” Spat the blonde.
“I bet he had regrets.” His patient had confessed that he thought of Malik as a weak person. Perhaps he thought of him as such because of his compassion for even those who abused him. At the very least, it was worth a gamble to bring up just to note how this young man would behave.
Lowering his head, the Ishtar boy felt his nose wrinkle with disgust at the mention of his other side. “No.” His tone was firm but a blatant lie. “Are you even a real doctor?” Without even looking, the elder pointed across the room to his framed certification he kept in plain sight for just the occasion. “You could have faked one of those.”
“Yes, I could have but I didn’t. Even so,” he let his voice drift for a moment. It was obvious that the other did not want to talk about Malik, still, there was a smidgen of time left before their introductory session was over. “I would love to do some Rorschach tests with you but I think we will just save that for next time. For now, how about we just play a little game?”
Unsure of how this doctor’s thought process was wired, Marik just stared at him quizzically. The white haired other moving closer before crouching down to pick up the scattered papers. Only now that he was so close did Marik notice that strange markings under his psychiatrist’s right eye.
“What happened to your face?” Fists uncurled while the elder stood back up with everything assumedly neatly stacked in the folder once more.
“Marik, you’re being rude.” A crooked grin etched up the right side of Akefia’s face, making the lighter markings twitch. He could not resist the simple grin as his patient leaned back, taking off by being called out. “But if you must know, it’s a scar.”
“How did you-” He stopped mid sentence as that slanted grin twisted ever so quickly into a scowl. “You said we were going to play a game?” The blonde watched as the other Egyptian moved back around his desk and took to his seat once more.
It was with a soft squeak that he resumed his role of doctor. “Catch.” It was a simple game anyone could play. The confused expression on his young wards face eased his mind. Ah, this was going to be a fun nut to crack. Placing the file onto his desk, Akefia opened it and drew out a piece of paper. The smooth sheet soon crumpled into nothing more than a crude sphere.
“Aren’t those important?” Just what the hell was this man’s deal? Had his siblings brought him to the wrong place just to be studied by an insane adult?
With a shrug, the newly crafted ball was slung over to the standing blonde. The paper object now clasped in both hands. “Nothing more but simple facts you and I both already know.” Tilting his head up for a second, he motioned for the other to toss it back. The object soon moving back and forth at a slow pace. “Good. Now, throw it away.” The well dressed man slung it back to the Ishtar who held onto the ball for several long seconds before tossing it into the trash bucket the rested along side the wooden desk. “Felt good, right?”
Hesitating, Marik gave a stiff nod. It had felt good. Sort of like he no longer had to worry about it coming back, if only for a moment.
“Do it again.” Another sheet was crumpled from the file and tossed to the standing male. Catching it with one hand, Marik quickly flung it to the receptacle. The ball hitting the rim just before rolling in. “Again.” This practice went on for several more sheets till the wild haired blonde dunked his last basket with a overhand shot. The file bare apart from the photos that remained paperclipped inside.
Leaning back into his plush chair, Akefia let out a content sigh. His hands now laced together over his stomach while seemingly pupil-less eyes studied the man across the room that had been recommended to see him. He was a decently built thing. His hair a mess and if what he gleaned off the others was to be believed then this was not the boy they had grown up with. No, the one they mentioned was fairly interesting but far less tense and wild. Perhaps he could get to talk to both this Malik and the one called Marik that stood before him. But how?
“I’m afraid our opening session is over but I will be seeing you again next week. The day depending on when is best for you.”
“You mean when is best for them,” Marik scoffed. After all, it was Odion and Ishizu that drove him to these horrible places.
“My mistake. I do have one request to ask of you before you leave.” At least the young Ishtar showed interest. His experimental bonding process a success after all. “I want you to burn me a copy of your favorite songs and bring it in next time. Could you do that?”
Finding this man to be more and more bizarre by the minute, Marik just rolled his eyes as he turned around. “And they think I’m crazy. Sure, whatever.” The door opened and the woman that lead him there from before gave a second bow. Her form blocking Marik’s path that he elbowed past. An angered growl caught in the poor girl’s throat as she turned to follow him, leaving Akefia by himself.
Waiting till the muffled noises were no longer to be heard, Akefia leaned forward and pressed a button to the sleek black box that rested on the desk corner and held it. “I’ve underestimated him. Your expertise might come in handy after all.” He released his hold but sat leaning over the edge of his seat.
The box crackled with response soon after. “…Interesting. Meet you at the tavern?”
“I think so. My next one is coming in. Till then.” he released the button once more and leaned back, hands clapping together as a quite little girl stepped into the room. “Rebecca, good to see you again…”

Link to part 2

I’m a terrible person;

epiphanyx7:

but I really wish someone (not me) would write a story about a sniper who was hired to kill Howard Stark, but who is foiled because Howard uses a young (itty bitty, woobie-aged) Tony as a human shield. And the sniper isn’t willing to kill a kid just to get to Howard, even if Howard is willing to let Tony die to save his own ass.

DO IT. DO IT FOR FEELS AND BECAUSE I’M AN AWFUL PERSON.

“I’m taking Tony to work with me.” It was a fact, not a request to his wife. Howard Stark motioned for the toddler to come to him. A look of eager joy in his eyes as he stumbled his way across the room to join his father’s side.
“Dear, I don’t think-” Howard cut his wife off quickly.
“Let’s keep it that way.” The man reached down to touch the top of Tony’s head, his fingertips just grazing it. My how young the boy was. It was impressive that he could walk already but Howard was anything but impressed by his son.
Feeling as if she had spoken out of place, his wife bowed her head in distress. They all had been tipped about threats on her husband’s life and she was worried for him like a good wife would be so naturally taking their only child out with him was going to be the end of her should anything happen to both.
“When will you be back?” Her sad eyes watched as the door was opened. A guiding hand motioning for their child to step outside first while he reassured his woman. Turning back a half step to look her in the face, Howard just stared for a long moment before turning back and closing the door after himself. His poor wife left behind but at least she would be safe.
“Stay by me, Tony.” Despite being his son, the title had yet to be uttered by the man. Perhaps he feared getting attached to someone who could easily grow up to hate him. A frown crossed his mug as the two walked side by side.
A chill in the air had the inventor glance around them as they pressed onward. This was that feeling war had taught him not to ignore. A chill of impending death.
Tony stumbled along the way nearly tripping the weapon expert. With a growl in his throat, Howard glared down at the boy who was nearly in tears. The chill in the air growing stronger. Something was terribly wrong but he saw no one though he was too smart to assume that meant they were alone.
“Clumsy thing,” he hissed. The air was still and not a sound could be heard apart from the young child’s sniffling. “Get up,” he ordered. Someone was there, he knew it but who he could not possibly imagine other then a hired gun.
As soon as the boy was up, Howard bent over to pick him up into his arms. The ringing alarms in his head starting to ease as he took a few steps with his boy held close to himself. Tony’s natural instincts to want comfort aiding him as he wrapped his little arms around his father’s neck.
Having walked more then a yard and found himself still breathing, Howard could at last feel himself start to relax a little. Perhaps he could handle the loud sniffling in his ear if that meant he could live to see another day. A twinge of a smirk pulling up the one side of his face as he kept on moving forward unscathed.
In the distance hidden in the cover of shade, the hit man lowered his gun in disgust. How could he risk taking out a kid who had yet to live? It was impossible to take one down without killing the other the way the child had clung so tightly to the man. His little head nuzzled in close to his neck and offering the perfect cover.
Bitterly the man moved further back into the darkness. His boss was going to be less then thrilled with his failure but at least he could live with himself but how could Howard Stark if he knew how close he was to death?
With a smirk of course but how could the killer know?