To Die For

I stepped across the rubble with my hood pulled over my head, my eyes held low. During the reconstruction of Manhattan, there was a curfew, and if seen, I was in big trouble. Hopefully she remembered that, too.

I could’ve just disappeared, sure, but that was a lot of energy I needed to save up once I got there. Stark Tower, in its hideous and tall glory—just down the road.

He had gotten it fixed up quickly. While the city around it was in shambles, at the end of the road, illuminating the entire block with its clean energy was a completely remodeled Stark Tower. Some criticized Tony Stark for not helping out around him, but they didn’t realize he was helping. He was the reason things were moving so quickly.

Arrogant as the man is, he didn’t seem the type to brag about his charity.

I didn’t really know what I was expecting to find when I shuffled down the streets and to the locked glass doors of Stark Tower. No, breaking them wasn’t an issue, and neither was lock picking. I could do either, but alarms—silent, more than likely—would go off before I even got finished, no matter how fast I was.

I took a step back, reflexively. There was a very soft, almost silent, murmur against the glass.

Motion sensors, heat sensors . . . fuck, I might’ve already blown it.

I began casually walking along, quickly pulling out an innocent façade. In the middle of the dreary night, when the entire street was black, the lit up building at the end was fascinating to me. I wondered what was inside. What’s the harm in that?

No one came after me. Either I hadn’t gotten close enough to set off alarms, or they bought it.

Or maybe that was what they wanted me to think.

In the distance, I could hear another set of footsteps from behind me. They weren’t the steps of anyone from Stark Tower, which I knew because I had scouted the cops on the street. It was one of the cops following behind me, so I knew I had been seen.

The alley that turned behind Stark Tower was the perfect place to disappear—literally. I made myself invisible and pushed through the back wall of Stark Tower.

With a smirk, I started looking around the dark and casually fancy lobby. Huge flat screens in random corners, furniture that looked comfortable and fancy all at the same time, and an elevator in the back of the room with, I’m sure, stairs in the far corner. It was all a bit too easy, if you ask me. I just walked right through the walls and didn’t set off a single alarm.

And how predictable. The workshop was located in the basement. It wasn’t necessarily where I needed to be when the rooster crowed, but it was the place I wanted to go. Hell, to see Tony Stark’s workshop . . . it would be mind blowing.

I slipped through the high security doors with ease, and the moment I made myself visible, I realized all too late that I wasn’t alone. There was someone else down here, at three in the morning.

Someone drinking whiskey from the bottle while tinkering with an arrow.

Holy fuck.