I do not own The Avengers or Iron Man or Spiderman.

Or anyone but my husband and sons. You know what I mean.

Instant Kill Mode

He could only watch helplessly as the kid in the red and blue onesie plummeted out of the bloodred sky.

And smashed headfirst into the ground.

Bones snapping like twigs, blood pouring from the breathable pores of the sui-

Tony Stark jerked awake in the dark.

Heart pounding, pulse racing.

Mouth dry as cotton death.

"You okay, Boss? I detected massive fluctuations in your basic operating systems."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

He swiped a trembling hand across his sweat-filmed brow.

"Friday."

"Yes, Boss?"

"Parachutes."

"Got it, Boss."

They had found him too late.

He hung lifeless from the rack, electrodes left sticking out of him.

Deep, brutal cuts and gouges across his still, bloodied corpse.

Cooling as the chains creaked quietly above him.

Too late, too late.

We didn't know where he was.

We couldn't find him.

And I can't take it bac-

Tony Stark's cheek burned briefly as his scruffy face skimmed the stainless steel surface of the workbench before rising.

He blinked away his confusion, genius mind instantly clicking through new modifications.

"Friday."

"Yes, Boss?"

"Tracking device."

"Okay, Boss."

His eyelashes were crystalized ice, lips bluer than the blue of his suit.

That suit that could not save him from freezing to death in the frigid waters of that forgotten artic wasteland.

Shouldn't have brought him, he was just a little spiderling.

Not even any buildings or jungle branches to swing fro-

Tony Stark shuddered up into consciousness, squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun streaming in through his living room window.

"Friday."

"Yes, Boss?"

"Thermals."

"On it, Boss."

They encircled him, zeroing in.

Brutal, hacking weapons of death and dismemberment slashing and tearing at the trapped, defenseless kid.

Tearing him apart, ripping him limb from limb.

And Tony Stark could not fly fast enough to save him.

Alone and outnumbered and helpless.

And dead.

And it was all Tony fault.

Nonononono-

Bourbon from the glass spilled on his pants as he twitched awake from his waking slumber.

Wingtipped foot involuntarily kicking the seat in front of him as he slammed back into reality.

Happy noticed, of course.

"You alright back there, big guy?"

Tony reset himself into an air of nonchalance. Peered owlishly out from behind his tinted glasses at passing midnight streetlamps.

"Yeah, yeah. That's, uh, that's how boring a gala can be."

Then quieter, he murmured.

"Friday."

"I'm here, Boss."

"Instant kill mode."

"Wow. That's pretty extreme."

Tony rubbed his pounding forehead.

"Just put it on the list."

"Sure thing, Boss."

He sat and stared a million miles past the bustling city streets, out at the future that he could not see.

The violence and apocalypse he could not anticipate.

Destruction and death he could not stop.

What else, what else? What else am I missing?

What eventuality have I not prepared for?

He had to make sure he got everything, provided the kid every advantage, every possible weapon.

The kid was going to seek out trouble, find bad guys to fight. Dangerous situations to throw himself headlong into.

There was no stopping him on that point.

And he was strong, he had potential, especially with powers like that.

Tony just had to make sure nothing happened to him.

Because he can't get hurt, can't get killed.

None of them can.

But rest of them were seasoned adults, trained fighters.

People who knew what they were signing up for.

But the kid, that boy, was his responsibility to protect.

That Peter Parker, the little Spiderboy.

And so, the list grew.

"Friday."

"Yes, Boss."

Hello, gentle readers! Welcome to Tony Stark's nightmares!

What do you think?

This actually a Tumblr/Pinterest writing prompt and I found it incredibly chilling.

So of course I had to write.

Thanks for reading!

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