Yay new story! And a new genre to boot :)

I have had a pretty good reaction to my Harry Potter story so hopefully you all like this one!

Disclaimer: A lot of people own a lot of rights to a lot of Marvel stuff. I am not one of these people. That is all.

October 12, 1998

The entrance hall of Stark Industries Factory in LA was bustling with people at 10 o'clock on a Monday morning. Everybody rushed past on their way upstairs to work, or outside with an errand to run. Nobody stood still, except for one man. At first glance he was just some guy in a baseball hat and hooded sweatshirt, but a closer look could reveal him to be Tony Stark, current CEO of Stark Industries, staring tightlipped and furrow-browed at the giant Arc Reactor in the center of the room. It was his first time out of his underground lab at home since three days ago, when he'd started working on something groundbreaking, but he'd hit a mental block for the past five hours and had finally decided to come down to SI's R&D building and do what he always did.

The Arc Reactor didn't actually do anything other than work as a big flashlight, and yet Tony found himself staring at it for up to hours on end when he needed answers, from the smallest of life's mysteries to his greatest inventions. Maybe it was because this was one of his father's last (and largest) finished projects, or maybe it was because of the big warm light and the soft buzzing, but the Arc Reactor had been helping him solve his problems since he was five.

When he was seven and built his first engine, it took twenty minutes of staring at the thing for him to figure out the last steps all on his own. When he'd been excepted into MIT at an extremely early age, an hour in front of the Reactor made him relive all of his father's disappointed looks and how he felt as though he'd never be good enough, and so he had decided to get out and go to MIT. At seventeen it had helped him figure out how to approach sex for the first time, since despite popular belief he had managed to make it through college a virgin. And on that fateful night at twenty-one years-old, he'd snuck into the already closed SI building, a bottle of Vodka in one hand and whiskey in another, TV images of car rubble and two covered stretchers flooding his mind. The guard had seen him almost at once, but had then walked off to another floor, allowing Tony to sit there, drunk, unable to cry, and listening to the hum of his father's great creation until the early hours of the morning.

And so today found him twenty minutes in to a staring contest with a giant battery in the middle of his own entrance hall looking (and probably smelling) like a homeless person.

"Excuse me."

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a tugging on the hem of his shirt. A child was pulling on his shirt, looking up at him with questioning yet calculating eyes. A flash of recognition passed through her eyes, but she seemed unfazed.

"Yeah, kid?" he asked, taking in the appearance of the little girl. Short, maybe four or five years old (he could never tell the difference with children), with messy coppery brown curls and big brown eyes. She had light brown skin and very Latin-American characteristics in her facial and body structure.

"It says this is an eclec-eclec," the little girl sighed and pushed her bangs back, as if this was a common struggle for her, and turned back to the plaque by the Arc Reactor, "El-ec-tro-MAAG-net. That's like a battery, right?"

Tony raised his eyebrows at the kid's knowledge. That was new "How old are you, kid?"

She looked shyly at the floor and answered in a quiet voice, "I turn six today," and then her countenance changed suddenly, her eyebrow furrowing and her chin sticking up, "You didn't answer my question!"

"Oh. That. Yeah, it's sort of like a battery, I guess."

"What does it power?" asked the little girl.

"Just the lights."

"Oh," the little girl looked like he'd just told her Santa Claus wasn't real, which brought back a wave of memories from when he was six years old.

There is no Santa Claus! Alright?! No need for stupid letters or cookies or any of that! Just tell Jarvis whatever crap you want and he'll go buy it with my credit card. Now get out of my office!

"Hey, I didn't—"

"Josephine!"

A man was walking fast toward Tony and the little girl, looking ready to have a heart attack.

"Looks like your dad found you."

The little girl gave him a look of disgust and contempt that he didn't think small children were capable of making, "Mr. Patterson is not my dad."

As the man reached them, something clicked in his head. A vague memory of two days ago, when his assistant of the month had been pestering him about giving a welcome speech until Obie had caught up with them and told the assistant he'd take care of it. An orphanage visit. The little girl had probably split from her orphanage to come look at the Arc Reactor up close.

"You scared the living hell out of me! What did I say about wandering off? Just wait until we get back to the orphanage, young lady…"

Tony watched with narrowed eyes. The man's grip on the little girl's arm was a bit too tight for comfort, but not tight enough to capture the attention of the people walking by. His hurried words came out in a threatening hiss. The little girl's eyes were wide and afraid, a look that Tony knew too well. Tony wasn't sure if he wanted to throw up, punch this man in the face, or both.

"What would Mr. Stark say if he saw—"

"Ahem," Tony cleared his throat loudly, "I'm no Tony Stark, but I think he would approve. Oh wait…I am Tony Stark. Yup. Definitely approve."

"M-Mr. Stark."

"Yeah. We already established that. You're from the orphanage, right?'

The man nodded, trying to make his speech work, "Chris Patterson."

"Yeah. Got that off the nametag," said Tony, looking around for his assistant. She should be somewhere close, ready to pester him over something. Sure enough, she was waiting for him by the elevator, "Jenny!"

The assistant ran toward him immediately, stumbling more than once on her too-high-for-work high heels.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"Give Mr. Patterson and his orphanage kids a proper tour of the factory. Except for this kid. She's going with me to my private lab."

Tony tried his hand at a kind smile, which must have been at least a little reassuring, because the little girl's kicked puppy look was instantly switched for a hopeful puppy look.

"Right away, Mr. Stark. Sir, if you'd follow me…"

Patterson walked off with Jenny, still sputtering like an idiot. The little girl looked like Christmas had come early.

"Alright, uh," he looked at the girl's nametag, "Josephine."

The girl made a face, "Joei. Josephine sounds like an old person."

"Joei it is, then. We're going down to my lab so I can show you what a real arc reactor does. But first we have to make a quick stop in my friend Obie's office."

"Kay," she said, following Tony as he headed toward the elevators.

They stepped into the private elevator, far too spacious for one person.

"Joei, I'm going to ask you a few questions."

The girl's eyes flickered to the side and her breathing became short and quick. She was scared, he realized, and he remembered again. He remembered the fear of telling someone, anyone, what went on behind closed doors.

"You're not in trouble," he assured, "And I'm going to make sure Patterson never hurts you or any other kid again, alright? But I need you to tell me a couple things. Can you do that?"

She nodded silently.

"Okay. How many times a day do you eat?"

She stared at him for a while, and it surprised Tony how her childish face takes on an adult look. She was gauging him, trying to figure out whether or not to trust this strange man who was being nice to her for some reason.

"Two," she finally answered, "Sometimes three, but we don't get dinner if somebody misbehaves. And somebody almost always misbehaves."

"You get meals taken away as punishment?" asked Tony, rage building in his gut. These were kids! Some as young as three years old if he recalled the paperwork correctly. Howard had been a son of a bitch, but he'd never taken away food from Tony for doing something. He took a deep breath for the next question, "Do you have your own room?"

"No."

"Your own bed?"

"No."

Tony strictly recalled paying for enough beds for each child.

"How many kids share abed?"

"Two. Sometimes three when they're small enough."

"How many beds are in each room?"

"Three."

"What about all the empty rooms?"

"One of them is Mr. Patterson's bedroom. And the other is his upstairs office. And another is where he takes his special guests. And another one where he keeps his grown up drinks."

"He gets drunk in the orphanage?" Tony struggled to keep his voice steady. He could admit to himself that he was a downright drunk, but he had never gotten drunk in front of kids. He'd sworn that to himself around two a.m. after his parents' accident. He swore to never be like Howard. He swore to make kids' lives better instead of worse. That's why he'd done this stupid orphanage project in the first place, because on that fateful December night when he'd gotten drunk enough to puke on the edge of the arc reactor twice, he'd made himself some big promises to never be his father.

"It's okay as long as he doesn't get mad. If he gets mad, the older kids help us hide and then Mr. Patterson only hits them, but they're big so he doesn't hurt them much. There's also the timeout room. That's where we go if we do something really bad like talk when Mr. Patterson is talking. There's a really big shower in there and Mr. Patterson turns it on for twenty minutes and then we have to stay there for the rest of the day."

Tony practically growled.

"Wait here, alright?" he told Joei, pointing to the couch in Obie's waiting room at the factory. It, along with Obie's office, er a lot smaller than his office and waiting room at the actual SI Building. She sat down on the edge of it, crossing one ankle over the other.

Tony entered Obie's office without asking if he was busy. His mentor was sitting at his desk, talking on the phone.

"Did you know the guy from the orphanage was a scumbag?"

"Uh, Senator, I'm going to have to call you back. Yes, thank you. Goodbye," Obadiah hung up the phone and motioned for Tony to take a seat, "Didn't catch that. What's going on, Tone?"

"The whole orphanage thing is a sham! I am paying millions of dollars for those kids to have a good home, and now I find out that this Patterson guy is keeping all the money for himself, getting drunk and HITTING KIDS!"

"Tony, the man came very highly recommended. I'm sure whoever told you was exaggerating."

"She is NOT exaggerating!" said Tony, standing up once more, "Trust me, I know."

"Tony, whatever you see in some little kid…"

"Is completely accurate! I know when a kid is telling the truth about being abused because I used to lie about it all the time! I want him fired, Obie! I want Patterson sued and I want him fired!"

"And who's going to replace him?"

"We'll find someone. I'll find someone myself if I have to. But I want that guy out of that orphanage. Today."

And with that, Tony stepped out of the office, leaving Obie to solve whatever his CEO wanted to be solved. One of these days, Obadiah Stane was going to get fed up with Tony Stark's capricious behavior and get him out of this company once and for all.