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The politicians were accused of keeping information hidden from the public. The translations below need to be checked and inserted above into the appropriate translation tables, removing any numbers. Numbers do not necessarily match those in definitions. English Wikipedia has an article on: hide unit. Namespaces Entry Discussion. Maria, you slut, who did you sleep with?

Heels thoroughly destroying the finish of the coffee table she grabbed him by the collar and started trying to shake her husband bodily. From his position crumpled half under the coffee table Tony groaned something inaudible, clearly struggling his way back to consciousness.

Edwin had had enough of this nonsense. Tony was in danger of being crushed underfoot and the staff were still uselessly huddled in fright around the doorway. Edwin noted with some satisfaction that the newest member of the skeleton crew was the only unafraid face in the bunch; she was industriously clearing away the broken glass in the corner.

Maria, and surprisingly Howard both fell silent meekly at the tone of his voice. Maria seemed to calm down at that, releasing her husband and moving to scoop up her son, somewhat predictably Howard immediately started up again on the verbal tirade.

Howard stumbled backwards and away from his family, face twisted in self-loathing he turned and shakily poured himself a large helping of whiskey from the drinks cabinet. Calling out instructions to the staff that were still crowded uselessly in the doorway he got to the important business of making sure that his charge was all right.

After twenty frustrating minutes of barking orders Edwin finally had the situation under control enough to call in the family physician.

The man was well paid, in fact he was paid enough not to ask awkward questions, or raise any alarm bells. Edwin hated to the very depths of his soul that the extra money was so very necessary but in this instance having a discreet doctor available around the clock was an absolute boon. It was even vaguely comfortable, which was quite a large step-up from his expectations.

He cracked open his eyes cautiously, the ceiling was cracked, plaster forming a familiar landscape of crevices and gorges. He was back in his childhood bedroom again, he glanced to the side, it seemed to be the middle of the day. Tony groaned as the ache that made up the entirety of the left side of his face made itself known to him. He catalogued his teeth with his tongue; thankfully they all seemed to be there.

Tony shifted on the bed, a whole new host of aches lit up his nervous system, his entire lower abdomen felt strangely tender. A familiar woman was dozing in a chair at the foot of his bed she looked anything but matronly despite her attempts to appear so with that floral dress.

She looked tough, hardened in a way that forcibly reminded him of Natasha at her most beautiful and deadly. Ana Jarvis was sat at the end of his bed, sleeping peacefully. Tony pushed down the wave of utter heartache that threatened to overwhelm him completely.

He focussed fuzzily on her face, she looked exhausted and he had a sinking feeling that his current situation had nothing to do with it. The tiredness looked bone-deep, her face milk-white, skin nearly translucent in a manner that spoke of long-term illness.

Tony desperately hoped that he remembered the timelines wrong, but he knew that his memory for numbers was excellent. The thought that had been jumping up and down trying to get his attention finally made itself clear, the sheer amount of medical gear lying around his childhood bedroom was frankly alarming. The creepy family doctor had obviously been in to patch him up, that thought was utterly horrifying.

Despite his best efforts and the rising wave of panic Tony found himself drifting back down into unconsciousness lulled down by the pull of the drugs. Once the immediate danger had passed Edwin was guiltily grateful for the brief respite in his duties that the terrible Incident had provided.

The incompetent staff Howard had brought with him had been cowed by the events of the previous evening, so Edwin had had very little trouble sending the majority of them home for the day, and giving the more reliable skeleton-crew their orders in the certain belief that they would be obeyed. Well, Tony mused resignedly as he stared up at his bedroom ceiling, laid up with half his head covered in ice packs, it seemed Howard nearly killing him had irrevocably altered the timeline.

He should be begging not to be sent to that bloody school by now, not confined to the mansion until his face healed up enough that he was decent for the public eye again. So for once Tony was actually getting the recuperation time that his injuries required.

He repressed the shiver of utter revulsion that his memories of the man and his clammy hands brought up. Forcibly pressing down the memories of that awful man and his awful secretive touches into the darkest depths of his mind he tried to focus on the here and now through the haze of drugged pain. Ignoring his latest interchangeable keeper Tony absentmindedly hummed the riff from Thunderstruck, incapable of remaining silent for such a long stretch of time.

Staring at the yawning chasm of shit that was his life, the almost certainly real current-future and possibly unreal current-past. Tony started the breathing exercises that would help him drop into a meditative trance and help him create some order out of the whirling chaos of his mind.

However between the painkillers, the remaining aftershocks of the panic, and the persistent ache in his jaw and side he gave up on the attempt fairly quickly. Actually he was pretty bloody bored by this point, but he knew better than to push his luck where Howard was concerned.

Staring up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster he could feel the frustration building up, real or not, what had he actually achieved in the last few weeks? Forcibly dragging his thoughts onto a productive track he got back to hedging his bets.

Jarvis and especially Ana were both apparently experts in martial arts — perhaps he could use this latest incident with Howard as an excuse for the sudden interest.

Edwin hugged his wife tightly when she came down from her shift watching Tony the next morning. She looked wan in the bright summer light, dark circles under her eyes contrasting unpleasantly with the waxen paleness of too little sleep. I dread to think what would happen to him Ana if he ended up in the system.

Ana pecked him on the cheek and hurried out of the kitchen door in the direction of the garage. Edwin thought he heard her mutter. Jarvis turned pained eyes on Tony, seeming to inspect him head to toe for more injuries. I promise. I promiseI would never hurt you. Tony croaked out. Did he honestly think? Is that why J had been so miserable lately? Tony felt awful. They remained like that for several minutes, Tony could feel that his hair was getting damp.

Eventually the pair pulled apart, Jarvis looking down at Tony with such love and inexplicable guilt what on earth did Jarvis have to feel guilty for? Tony was surprised when the brown bag revealed a dark night-time scene, the dark blue-black sky and the gleaming wet streets of London. A blonde man stood in the alley pictured, leaning on some boxes, clutching a guitar, and wearing a bright turquoise jumpsuit. The title itself had tiny stars embedded in the font, the whole image somehow ridiculously evocative, the album was The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars.

Tony flipped the LP over and gazed down at the back cover, Bowie was posed provocatively in a red London phone box, sneering contemptuously out at the camera. The older man looked fond, at least Tony thought he looked fond. Before he could reply Tony started talking rapidly.

This new manipulative streak was yet another item for the ever-growing list of personality traits that Edwin was compiling. He was surprised when instead of Jarvis, or one of the few other staff members allowed in to see him, Maria stuck her head around the door.

After a moment of stunned immobility Tony found himself clinging tightly back. There was something horribly fragile about his mother, she had been a strong woman once upon a time, before Howard had happened.

He was horribly aware that the drugs were doing strange things to his thought processes, they were rose tinted and nostalgia filled. Christ, perhaps this was part of the trap. Yet somehow the thought that his mother was merely a figment was utterly terrifying. Whilst Tony was aware that there was an awful lot of truth in that statement, he hated seeing his mother so darkly and helplessly angry with her lot in life.

She could have done things to help herself he knew, after all her siblings would have welcomed her back into the fold of the Carbonell family with open arms. He noted that she seemed to relax at those words. Ah, she actually was having a bad day then. The visit home must have been a bad one if a little shouting match with Howard affected her so much. Holding in the sigh by effort of will Tony hugged her again, this time more for her comfort than his own. Tony admitted to himself that he was angry with her for this.

He knew it was unfair, but he was a Stark, and they had a well-earned reputation for selfishness. Steve had lied to his face for two whole years about it, despite hypocritically ragging on him about transparency within the team. Now that the household consisted of more than just Edwin and the cleaning crew he had more opportunities to spend time with his darling wife, however every time he made the short journey to their shared home Edwin felt a sharp stab of guilt.

He felt as if he was betraying Tony every single time he left him alone in that hateful mansion with Howard. Edwin had decidedly mixed feelings every time their lonely shared summers came to an end, and this time around was no exception. Edwin was of the opinion that home was where you had to feel safe. Edwin was under no illusions as to how Tony felt about the mansion. Thankfully something about the incident seemed to have knocked some sense into his erratic master, Howard had retreated to his workshop, avoiding everyone else in the household except when forced.

Though fortunately Edwin felt that the idiot man was unlikely to make an appearance that evening. Edwin swallowed, his previously appetising supper sitting like concrete in his stomach.

Avoiding the young woman mopping down the kitchen corridor Tony snuck down to the nanotube cellar, it was a relief to have the freedom to move around again. Shrugging on the coveralls and respirator, and wincing when the mask pushed against his still tender jaw, Tony eagerly entered the dark and sooty chamber. Breathing out a heavy sigh through the respirator filters in disappointment Tony quickly checked over the ethanol feed levels, topping up the tank when he saw that it had gotten a little low, though fortunately not low enough to trigger his alarm.

Thoughts about forges, metallurgy, phase diagrams, temperature and leatherworking spinning through his mind Tony felt downright cheerful as he habitually snuck through the mansion back to his squash-shop. When he arrived at the shop Tony finally got around to integrating one of those metal struts into the chassis of the robot dog. If history repeated itself he was going to be ready this time.

Cautiously entering the forest-scene wallpapered room Tony found himself sticking his head around a doorjamb this time. Some of his fondest memories of the mansion involved this room, also some of his worst. Even on her bad days his mom had always loved playing this song with him. His mum shuffled along the piano stool, making room for him, wincing at the ache in his abdomen Tony took his habitual spot at the high C, he would be playing rhythm in counterpoint to her melody two octaves down.

Tony lost himself to the music and the memories, he allowed himself to simply appreciate the moment. Edwin smiled softly to himself when he heard the familiar strains of Maria and Tony playing the grand together, in this at least the pair could provide each other some much needed comfort.

The influx of staff to the household had at once made his life easier and more difficult. Edwin no longer had to deal with the minutiae of cleaning the mansion, but instead he was managing a staff of thirty or so.

Fortunately the skeleton-staff had been allowed to stay, and they at least were competent enough to be left to it. Nodding to the new-girl on the skeleton crew as she mopped the far end of the hallway Edwin made his way over to a mess in the making that he could see beginning to happen.

As he calmly threatened the incompetent fools with demotion Edwin plotted. Edwin thought that one of the smaller halls in the west wing would do nicely for their purposes. The halls had originally been planned as entertaining rooms anyway so there was plenty of floor space, and if he remembered correctly the wood was nicely sprung for dancing, or sparring. He was spending far too much of his time dealing with the idiocy of the staff that Howard had hired, Edwin had seen even less of Tony in the past couple of days than he usually managed when the poor boy was attending school.

There were no alternate routes, no turnings, and nowhere to hide if Howard should spot him. As Tony was beginning to learn, few things are hidden from a quiet child with good eyesight. After an apparent age Howard seemed to slump, anger leaching out of him, he turned and poured himself a generous helping of whiskey from the decanter.

As Howard was gulping the drink down in a long swallow Obie continued the argument. I wont. Tony thought that Howard would win this one, Obie wanted to run SI not burn his cash cow to the ground.

He thought that Howard might have been able to read it, but the other man disappointed him by rising to the bait. Typically of his father, the man was being a snob about a topic he knew nothing about.

Single malt bourbon my ass. The whole term was an oxymoron. There were single malts, blended malts, blended whiskies, and grain whiskies. And then there were the utterly separate US definitions, such as Bourbon and Rye. The two whisky disciplines by the very text that defined them were legally utterly disparate. Tony was pretty thoroughly lost in the technicalities of the different whisky and whiskey definitions.

He was trying desperately not to think about the scotches that had given him the final push into full-on alcoholism; Tony genuinely loved the taste of the heavily peated scotches that tended to come out of Islay. He could almost taste the contrast of the sherried variety of Ardbeg that had been a firm favourite of his, the heavy smoky peat, segueing delightfully into the sweet tones of the sherry casks the liquor had been aged in.

That appreciation for the flavours, made his issues with the Demon Drink all the more painful to deal with. There was no such thing as non-alcoholic scotch, no other way to gain access to that savoury miasma of smoke and pure taste. The almost spicy rye-forward blends had melded nicely with the sweetness of the corn. However Tony had generally preferred the far more savoury flavours that tended to be prominent in even the most basic scotch whisky.

Scrapping in the garden? Rough and tumble with the other lads? Tony internally laughed cynically, what other lads? Obadiah did his best to look shocked, the expression soon fading into cold calculation. It saddened Tony to realise that the older man had likely always been a shark, ersatz father figure or no.

If looks could kill, Stark Jr would win the contest hands down he knew - Tony had had decades to practice that paparazzi-perfect look of contempt. Tony suppressed a shudder at the too familiar nickname and the falsely jovial tone that Obie was employing; he automatically shoved the pathetic little robot dog behind his back. He found himself backing further away from the pair of men, before turning and running in a manner very reminiscent of the six-year-old he appeared to be.

He was grateful for the moment of respite from the idiocy of others, much as Stane gave him the willies. There was just something about the man that raised his hackles, though damned if he knew what it was. Though being fair given the sheer insanity of the last week he could hardly be blamed that it had slipped his mind. The design looked somehow sleeker than he remembered it being, the little robot far more canine shaped than the boxy little cylinder on legs than he remembered.

Rex toddled surprisingly realistically across the kitchen table towards Edwin, yapping with apparent enthusiasm when Hide Out - Celly Ru - Free Da Ru (File) tentatively reached out and petted it on the head. Lord knew the poor boy desperately needed some human company. Their relationship had still been far too strained when all of this nonsense had swept into their lives, Tony still alarmingly skittish.

This current crisis even worse than the usual brand of shite and piss he had to deal with. His whole world had spiralled down into the question of whether this, here and nowwas real or not. It was as if his body, trying to devote as many resources as possible to untangling the spiralling thoughts was drawing those resources from the rest of him.

His vision darkened, Tony slid to the floor, knees weak. His whole world narrowed down to the numbers printed on the record deck. The speed dial had blurred into unreality because his eyes were filled with tears. Tony was startled back to the present when the uplifting Morse-code sequence of Starman blared surprisingly loudly over the speakers.

Did he have the right to drag someone else down into this hell with him? Gods knew he could do with all of the help he could get down here, and the ability to implement their code Hide Out - Celly Ru - Free Da Ru (File) be another tick in the not-a-trap column. Or possibly not. Jarvis reappeared as the first side of the LP ended interrupting the strange country music that was echoing over the speakers, he gave Tony a concerned and puzzled look. Tony must have done a piss-poor job of hiding the evidence of his mini-breakdown.

Jarvis settled down on his lounge-chair next to Tony and gestured for him to continue playing the record. Whatever Maria had done must have been pretty exhausting to deal with. Tony allowed himself to relax back on the rug, he tried to focus on the music, not his newfound fear that Jarvis would turn around and, and what — hurt him? The unreality of everything bearing down on him like a ton of bricks. On balance Tony thought that he rather liked the album, though he cynically disbelieved the message in the final song.

Since when had he ever been not alone? Why would his current situation be any different? With an ease born of long practice Tony pulled on his paparazzi ready mask of pure hedonistic enjoyment, he longed for his signature sunglasses as an extra layer of protection between himself and the outside world.

Obie and Howard were there, shaking hands in a congratulatory fashion over something or other. Tony attempted to back up, but Obie spotted him and called him over. Tony barely managed to suppress his instinctive shoulder hunch, it was bad enough that Howard was there, let alone Obie too. His brief respite, if a panic-attack over a record could be called a Hide Out - Celly Ru - Free Da Ru (File), was over. He heard himself say.

Unfortunately Tony was six, not the sinewy forty-six he had been, Howard easily pulled the robot further away. He cursorily inspected it, expression morphing into outright jealousy as the little dog nuzzled at his palm affectionately before rasping a metallic tongue over his fingers. The little dog whimpered as his clutch tightened around its belly, if it were a real animal it would have been in genuine distress.

The little robot was wriggling as if attempting to escape his grasp, the realistic response seemed to enrage Howard. He raised it above his head before throwing it to the ground viciously. Despite the hard hard marble of the floor the little dog was still operating, it was outright yelping now, the noise distressingly realistic, little limbs wriggling helplessly in the air. A monster. Do you hear me? Showing me up in front of my business partner like this, how dare you!?

Howard raised his boot over the still whimpering form of the small robot dog. Something inside Tony snapped, but in a very controlled manner. Acting as his adult self would, rather than feigning the six-year-old he appeared to be, he pulled himself up and threatened. The implied sexual innuendo pushed Howard over the edge into incoherent rage, Tony grinned his grin with far too many teeth.

Howard stomped. A loud crack echoed through the room, followed by a long high whimper of pain. Howard attempted to lunge for Tony, Tony danced back laughing mockingly. Howard on the other hand paled several shades as he put pressure on his injured foot, the squeaking noise made a reappearance. Distantly Tony realised that Obie and the rest of the staff were still in the room with him, his entire focus had narrowed down to Howard, and his robot, now in hundreds of broken pieces.

Whilst Tony was still feeling strangely detached from everything Jarvis materialised out of nowhere, barking orders to the gathered staff with terrifying efficiency, he managed to usher Obie out of the mansion before phoning for Dr Grabby-Hands. The discreet family doctor was called in to treat a serious injury for the second time in as many weeks, though for once he was treating Stark the Elder rather than Stark the Younger.

The expression had been terrifying on such a young child. The latest item for the ever-growing list might possibly be the most alarming one yet. Tony thought the best thing about the whole situation was the way his father kept shooting him suspicious looks, he had no way to prove that Tony had done it on purpose, but he clearly remembered the taunts that Tony had shot out at him beforehand.

Tony was sure that Jarvis had been having second thoughts about this plan ever since the tin-dog incident yesterday. The ubiquitous brown wainscoting looked warm in the summer sunlight, wooden floor gleaming in the bright beams of light shining though the tall floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the leafy wooded area of the gardens.

Tony looked at Jarvis questioningly as they entered the huge empty hall, the older man had been annoyingly secretive again, facial expression full of secretive mischief. Jarvis lead Tony around to the huge bay window in the far corner of the hall, standing there previously hidden by the corner Ana grinned sharp and deadly and lovely. Like creaming but it lasts longer.

Ana started to run down a list as she warmed up, Tony automatically followed his own warm-up routine, noting with some surprise that some aspects of it were now far easier and others far more difficult than he was used to. His usual pectoral stretches and crunches felt ridiculously gentle, Tony had a moment of utter body dysphoria when he realised that all of the scar tissue from the arc-reactor and the permanently reduced lung capacity had vanished. Tony was utterly caught up in the realisation that it was gone, well and truly gone.

He tried to play it off with a quip. Tony realised his mistake when both Ana and Jarvis gave him puzzled looks. He focussed back on the here and now and grinned daggers at Ana. Tony was so caught up in being grateful for his suddenly improved mood that he completely missed the significant looks Ana and Jarvis shot each other.

Edwin supposed it was yet another item for his list. Unfortunately he was called away as the session began winding down, this time by a member of his skelton-crew. Grumbling internally Tony rolled back up from the sparring mat for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Ironically he thought it was his previous experience at hand-to-hand combat that was tripping him up. Tony had never been a slouch, despite what the Avengers had all seemed to think. He was a weapons designer for fucks sake, he more than knew his way around a gun, had to know how the equipment behaved if he had a hope of improving the designs.

Sparring with Nat and Clint, learning all the ways to be sneaky, to use an opponents own strength and pride against them. Then had been working out how to hold his own against demigods and super-soldiers, or rather how to roll with the blows until he could get to weaponry that would at least enable him to fight back. Even Bruce had taught him a few tricks, decades living on the run from an incredibly long list of covert organisations had taught the apparently peaceable man a thing or three.

He should be better than this. Jarvis was looking at him pityingly. It was sickening. Ana was watching thoughtfully from the corner of the room as he ran through the latest painfully basic punch sequence. Apparently not. Just watching Tony run through the warm-up routine had provided another mystery, they were a relatively complex set of moves, a sequence that most non-combatants would probably have had to warm-up for.

She supposed the posh-school Howard shipped him off to might be responsible, but it was suspect. Ana would need to correct that tendency before they could continue. It would have the handy side effect of forcing him to flex the areas of his chest that he seemed determined to hold still. Unfortunately Edwin was called away towards the end of their session, so she had to wait to bring up the topic with her husband.

Far far too young. But it is. Edwin discreetly slipped away unwilling to listen to the rest of the conversation, with a sinking feeling he realised that the greater part of him actually agreed with Howard on this.

The mansion was no place to raise a child. Tony was beginning to regret his suggestion about sparring, it was taking all of his concentration not to slip and carry through on a move that his six-year-old self would have absolutely no right to know.

Still at least the utter exhaustion meant that he had little time to work himself into a panic every evening, it was nice to be able to drop off to sleep without having to worry about nightmares. After a week of daily sessions with little progress to speak of Ana had suggested that Tony try out a form of movement meditation, specifically dance katas.

Ana had proven to be an extremely skilled practitioner of martial arts. As Tony had suspected, she was far more capable in this area of expertise than her husband and Jarvis was already formidable.

It was a relief to finally be able to let himself move without thinking about it too much, the dance katas were complex enough and unfamiliar enough that Tony had to focus on getting the moves right.

Every step of the sequence formed a complicated design requiring enough concentration that he soon forgot to second-guess his every move.

The boy needed to learn to trust his own body, though Ana had certainly noticed that some of the stances that he tended to drop into automatically before double guessing himself had very interesting implications. She thought that some of the positions had vague similarities to the fluid moves her assad contacts tended to use. However there was enough there that was different about the stances that Tony fell into that it was difficult to recognise what the forms might actually have been originally.

Ana wondered about that, why on earth had he held himself so rigidly when in so many other respects he was suspiciously good at this? He was a perpetual worrier, and they did say that a problem solved was a problem halved, and that two heads were better than one. Once the session ended Ana carefully watched Tony retreat down the hall before broaching the topic with Edwin. Ana resisted the urge to huff, it was undignified, even if they were husband and wife, and he was acting the epitome of head in the clouds male.

She cut to the chase. Do you want the poor boy to be turned out from his own home because of his selfish father?! Edwin seemed to find a sense of inner resolve, visibly tilting his chin up before replying lowly.

Can you honestly say that Tony thinks of this place as a home? Of course the poor boy does. Edwin refused dignify her with a response, Ana shot her husband a look of disgust before deciding not to bring up her earlier thoughts with him.

Ana understood that the so-called innocence of children was a nonexistent concept dreamed up by adults who really should know better. Tony was already an isolated child at the school he attended now, how on earth would the young genius cope as the new boy at a boarding school? Tony took advantage of the relatively low-key training session that afternoon to go and check on the coal cellar.

Between the Jarvises constant presence and the fact that Howard had been back for three weeks checking in on the progress of his nanotube filament was difficult. The spool of nanotube fibre was overflowing. Calling it a job well done, Tony began the laborious process of shutting the automated furnace systems off.

Tony took to the dance meditations with enthusiasm; something about focussing entirely on keeping his stances correct without the fear of discovery stilled the constant thrum of thoughts and second thoughts that flowed through his brain. He noticed that Ana and Jarvis still seemed to be having an ongoing argument about something, there was a distinct tension between the couple, though Tony knew better than to ask. His routine had settled into a tenuously comfortable, but exhausting pattern.

Whilst a small niggling part of him was always, always aware that Ana and Jarvis might well be figments of his imagination, or worse his jailers, it was ridiculously comforting to just let himself soak up their company and affection. Just being here, in the mansion, with his ersatz parents, and the ersatz Jarvises was torture enough, there was no point adding to it.

Breathing out a sigh of relief as he slipped inside the ex-squash court Tony allowed himself to relax slightly, he had successfully avoided Howard ever since the incident with Rex. However he knew that the other boot would drop, and soon if past experience was anything to judge by. Childs play.

In the meantime Tony was making do with working out just how far he could push current computer tech. With some industrious rewiring, and several hours of frantic binary compiling Tony had a computer operating system that was vaguely reminiscent of the stuff from the lates boom in personal computing. The computer vaguely reminded him of those hideously colourful Applemacs, the TV-casing acted as a self-contained unit for both the computer itself and the display.

Tony had forgotten more than most people would ever know about past tech, but he was quickly catching up again. The whole thing was protected by several layers of encryption, the firewalls and security software actually took up more space on the woefully underpowered chipsets than the operating software itself, but Tony was taking no chances.

The Nixie Tubes allowed him to have a clock display reminiscent of an early digital wristwatch, the crudely elegant solution amused him every time he spotted it. It had been an absolute bugger to break down without wasting anything, but Tony had eventually gotten the pieces back to his shop. Between the wood the chair provided, and the results of his other trips to strange corners of the mansion he thought he might have a chance to create something genuinely useful out of the remaining shards of adamantium.

However it should be possible to mount the shards in other materials. Tony had slowly been sequestering away the basic tools and materials he needed to hide his own forge, it would be no good for any complex metallurgy, but would definitely be more than adequate for the basic work of pouring molten metal for sandcasting and possibly with some finagling on his part some actual anvil work. Two of the adamantium shards were long and wide enough that they could happily take a significant section of their length disappearing between the two pieces of wood that would make up the handles without any loss of practicality.

The third shard was an extremely narrow little piece, a smaller mirror to the jagged edge Howard had stepped on, and Tony thought it might just make a decent stiletto with some careful planning on his part. The daggers seemed like a nice little baby-step in the right direction. If he was allowed to finish his schemes for these little packages of death, then he might start putting together the parts for one of the later Stark semi-automatics. Edwin made the phone call twirling the phone cord impatiently around one bony finger as the line rang on.

He was calling up an old friend; he hoped his fellow Brit would be able to help him. Running some quick calculations he realised he could either weave half a child-sized shirt as much use as a marzipan dildo or make several lengths of rope and thread.

It sounded like a statement of intent had made them popular. The chunky black bracelet looked like a strange bangle, but could be unwound to form several hundred metres worth of thin rope. It would probably be extremely uncomfortable to climb up or down, it was so thin, but Tony was more than confident that it could take a huge amount of weight. Tony took to habitually wearing several lengths of it threaded through whatever shirt and pants he was wearing that day.

Harmless right? Tony had decided to cap the handles with metal, as well as use metal pins to stop the shards from working their way out of the wood. The only dagger that was giving him any trouble at this point was the stiletto, the two larger daggers both had fairly large, and most importantly blunt ends that would happily sit within the encasing wood without working their way free.

The stiletto on the other hand was a sharp shard of metal at both ends, just as likely to cut the wielder as the person they were attempting to hurt.

Unable to solve the situation satisfactorily with the tools at hand Tony took to secreting the two larger daggers about his person, whilst concealing the third needle-like shard of adamantium in the sole of his shoe.

The music room was achingly silent, Maria sitting ghost-like at the grand piano in her pale nightdress unmoving. She looked achingly frail, as if a strong breeze might blow her over at any moment. Her long elegant fingers were resting unmoving on the keys of the piano, the rigor she was holding them in making her hands look nearly skeletal.

She could be terrifyingly down on days like this, from his position by the door Tony could see the overlarge glass of gin resting on the polished wooden top of the piano, nearly empty bottle sitting forlornly next to it. He must have made a noise, Maria turned lightning quick, and effectively trapped him there with the power of her stare.

Tony found himself unwillingly walking towards her, she grabbed his upper arm as soon as he was in reach, grip steely. At this distance he could see the crazed light in her eyes, she was having a very bad day. The grip around his arm tightened painfully, Tony was shocked when he saw the macara stained tear-tracks running down her face. Dashing as fast as he could away from Maria into the furthest depths of the mansion.

As he fled down the hall to the basement Tony had a hell of a time keeping himself calm, something about seeing his mother so painfully distraught had shattered his own fragile veneer of calm. Fortunately years as Iron Man, and an Avenger had made him far better at evasive covert movement than he had any right to be.

Or at least he had been. Tony dreaded to think what would happen if Howard caught him down here, his face was still blotchy from the blow that had felled him nearly a month ago. Though Tony would prefer not to add yet another Howard-related complex to his already far-too-long list. What he wanted, more than anything in the world, was a drink.

The world came into focus when viewed from the bottom of a bottle, but Tony knew from bitter experience that one drink tended to arrive in many different containers. He needed to balance this carefully, make the self-inflicted damage look accidental, not purposeful, but equally not something that would get him banned from the workshop outright. Though that countermeasure at least would let him know one way or another.

As he cautiously shifted a heavy looking piece of equipment a sudden movement in the corner of his eye startled him. Something about his actions seemed to upset her, Tony registered a hot wetness running down his leg. Thank you for the continued interest in this story! All of the messages about kudos, bookmarks and comments have been very welcome and have kept me writing. The next chapter should be coming quicker than this one did, much more of it is finalised at this stage, and it's been easier to hash out so far.

Though frankly from it's length I suspect you should be able to tell why this one took so long! Several scenes needed including that I'd initially planned on skimming over altogether, but I was determined to get this section of the story done no matter how long this chapter ended up.

With the upcoming chapter we're about to ease into the beginnings of one of the plot-heavy sections of the story - so I do hope this latest set-up chapter has held up! The second season premiered on December 31, The third season takes place in the Gaza Strip. It aired in and Eighteen months prior to the start of the show, the Israeli soldier Doron and his unit were credited with killing the terrorist Taufiq Hammed. Following this, Doron retires from service in order to grow a vineyard.

At the beginning of season 1 Doron is visited by Moreno, the commander of his old unit, who informs him that Taufiq Hammed is still alive and plans to attend his brother Bashir's wedding. Doron rejoins his team in order to go undercover at the wedding. Ultimately they are discovered and Bashir is killed, moments before Taufiq is to arrive.

Although Doron is able to shoot Taufiq, and injures him, Taufiq escapes. Taufiq barely survives the gunshot wound and is forced to have secret emergency surgery so as to not reveal that he is alive or where he is.

Doron convinces Moreno to allow him to stay on with the unit until they catch Taufiq. Bashir's family all mourn him as a shahid martyr and his wife, Amal, vows revenge. Taufiq's right-hand man, Walid, convinces his cousin Shirin to help Taufiq escape from the hospital minutes before Doron's team arrives.

Amal, distraught over Bashir's death, volunteers to bomb a nightclub which Boaz, Doron's brother-in-law and a member of his unit, frequents. This will ensure that the Israelis get the message that it is revenge on Boaz for the killing of Bashir. The plan is for Amal to arm the bomb in her purse and then leave the club three minutes before its detonation. However, Amal decides to stay and die in the explosion. Boaz regains consciousness following the blast and finds his girlfriend's body.

Boaz does not handle the discovery well, and after getting pulled over, physically assaults the police and ends up in jail. While on a mission, Boaz gets captured and is held hostage by Hamas.

Doron and his team decide to prepare an unapproved mission to kidnap Taufiq's friend Sheikh Awadalla in an attempt to get Boaz back. When Doron finds out that Taufiq had a bomb implanted inside of Boaz, the team kidnap Taufiq's daughter to use as additional leverage. Ultimately Boaz and the Sheikh both get blown up, and Taufiq's daughter gets badly injured. Doron, still undercover, interviews for a position to be a shahid for Taufiq, a role which he ultimately gets recruited for.

Taufiq reveals his plan to Walid: they received sarin nerve gas that will be detonated in the synagogue, which will cause Israel to retaliate with force, committing war crimes and forcing other Islamic states to respond. Walid eventually discovers Doron's true identity and orders Doron to be killed, however the rest of the unit shows up just in time to kill everyone who was watching him. Walid shows the proof to Taufiq and then shoots him in the back of the head. Portrayed by Lior Raz.

Doron is married to Gali, and has a son, Hide Out - Celly Ru - Free Da Ru (File), Ido, and a daughter, Noga. Gali, behind Doron's back, has been having an affair with a fellow member of his unit, Naor. After Boaz's girlfriend gets killed, Doron wants to try and keep Boaz out of the field for his own safety. After Boaz's bomb is detonated Doron Hide Out - Celly Ru - Free Da Ru (File) to wander the streets aimlessly, before taking shelter in a mosque. Doron, just prior to shooting the person sent to kill Shirin, finds out from him that Taufiq is looking for a man to be a shahid.

Portrayed by Hisham Sulliman. Taufiq is commonly referred to as Abu Ahmad, and is nicknamed "The Panther". He is married to Nassrin and had a son Ahmad[n 4] a daughter Abir. Taufiq, is a high level Hamas terrorist, [3] who was assumed killed by the IDF 18 months prior to the beginning of the show, only to find out he is still alive and arranging terror attacks, despite having had a funeral.

Taufiq does not see his family for several years while in hiding, [n 2] and was willing to risk his life just to see Nassrin immediately after surgery. Taufiq throughout season 1 is planning for something big, later revealed that they will use sarin nerve gas to detonated in the synagogue, which will cause Israel to retaliate with force, committing war crimes, which will force the other Islamic states to respond.

Portrayed by Shadi Mar'i. Walid as of season 1 he is 20 years old. Walid puts the Hamas cause above everything else, including family, as he eventually shows by kidnapping his aunt and cousin to further their cause. When Walid was a kid he used to wait for Shirin to return from Paris so she could take him to the park.

Shirin is 32 years old as of season 1, and a cousin of Walid. Shirin, although has feelings for Doron is hesitant to accept his advances, but ultimately agrees to a date with him. Shirin ultimately helps Taufiq escape from the hospital based on Walid's insistence, however does so only for family, not because she believes in the cause. Shirin later performs surgery on Boaz, reluctantly, after Walid kidnaps her and takes her mother as hostage until she performs the surgery.

After the men sent to kill Shirin did not return, Taufiq ordered Walid to find Shirin and kill her. Portrayed by Itzik Cohen. He has been divorced twice, and lives by himself. Portrayed by Yuval Segalcommander of Doron's former unit, who pulled him back in. Portrayed by Netta Garti. Gali is Doron's wife, [n 2] and Boaz's older sister. Gali is having an affair with a member of Doron's unit, Naor, and says she is no longer in love with Doron.

Portrayed by Hanan Hillo. Nassrin is the wife of Taufiq, [n 2] and her mother is Hafida. Although she supports her husband's mission, she wishes she could have her family intact.


Eriline Kaabakas - Various - Suvehitt 1996 (Cassette), Torture, Adagio - Henrik Cervin - Orgel Gustavi Domkyrka Göteborg (Vinyl, LP, Album), Untitled - Terrence Dixon - Minimalism II (Vinyl), Julia - Earl Jacob - Czuły Rambo (CD, Album), Gleam Of Distant Stars - Aeldaborn - The Cosmic Trident (CD), You Killed The Magic - Arpeggio (2) - Breakout (Vinyl, LP, Album), Sanctuary - Autograph (2) - Missing Pieces (CD, Album), Never Married A Railroad Man - Shocking Blue - 23 Greatest Hits (CD)


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  6. Once again this story hasn't been beta read, so please do feel free to point out any errors you spot. This is another long chapter - I hope this stuff which is so incredibly in Tony's head continues to hold people's interest! I promise the actual plotlines will begin to .
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