{ " Could you please turn the page, dear? It's getting awfully dark out here, and we would love nothing more than to join you for the next chapter... Won't you let us in? " :) }
You can read early chapters on my [P].[A].[T].[R].[E].[O].[N].
Link: [email protected]/Arson09
_______________________________________
New York, Earlier that Day:
Ethan could be seen walking down the steps of The Children's Village orphanage building. After speaking with Miss Adler regarding the missing family, he turned his gaze toward the western skyline.
There, a familiar suit of high-tech armor could be seen soaring through the clouds. However, in place of the usual ballistic glass for eyelids, the faceplate was fitted with Cursed Glasses—the very same specialized lenses developed by Ethan and Banner.
Ethan took off, reaching the floating, hundred-million-dollar suit in a matter of seconds by utilizing the anti-gravity properties of the Gravity Ship: Aeries.
He stopped abruptly mid-air infront of the suit, creating a sudden atmospheric draft that pushed the armor back from sheer air pressure alone.
"You aren't in there, Stark?" Ethan noted after observing the suit for a few seconds.
"No, I'm still in Pittsburgh," Tony's voice crackled through the armor's external speakers.
"I don't know how much clearer I have to be. Hunting Cursed Spirits is not the same as hunting terrorists. The stronger ones will pierce through this metal like a hot knife through butter." Ethan punctuated his point by knocking firmly on the armor's faceplate. "And even against the weaker ones, your weapons will be ineffective. Cursed Spirits cannot be exorcised without Cursed Energy."
"Yeah, I get your point. Actually, that's what I was going to say before you went and vanished into your... shadow world? How does it feel in there, by the way? Can you even breathe in there?" Stark asked, his natural curiosity surfacing.
"I know what your idea is," Ethan spoke, using his hands to form air quotes. "That I imbue your armor the same way I imbued Cap's shield... yes?"
"Yes. That seems like a great start," Stark added.
"Well, it's not," Ethan clarified. "The imbuement itself is a complicated process. That's even looking past the disadvantages I receive due to the procedure."
"Disadvantages? The 'Equivalent Exchange' Bruce mentioned... what was it called? A Binding Vow?" Stark asked immediately.
"Yes. But even looking past the cooldown restrictions on my Shikigami, there exists a natural limitation," Ethan added as he drifted toward the rooftop of a nearby skyscraper. The suit followed as he landed. "Firstly, Shikigami cannot be imbued into just any object. Secondly, Normal metal simply breaks under the strain of my Jujutsu."
"Well, good thing this isn't normal metal," Stark said, the armor mimicking the gesture by knocking on its own faceplate.
"Gold-titanium alloy, right?" Ethan asked, examining the suit for a few seconds. "It will last a little longer, I'll admit that... but ultimately, it's ineffective. It will break like all the others."
"I have suits to spare," Stark spoke as dozens of Iron Man suits appeared, filling the sky and hovering in a perfect mechanical formation around them.
Ethan took a step back, eyeing the armored legion surrounding them.
"Earlier today, you said to me that you were terrified," Ethan said, looking back at the primary armor in front of him. "But I don't see a terrified man. All I see is the intrigue of a mad scientist. Banner had the same look when I told him about Cursed Spirits... but at least he had the decency to hide it."
"And what I see," Tony replied with unshakable conviction, "is a suit of armor around the world. This could be it, Ethan. Cursed Energy could be the key to protecting this planet. A world at peace... imagine that."
"Peace is a fantasy, Stark," Ethan said as flashes of memory surfaced—the bodies of people from Fairview, the victims of the Indian Ocean Tsunami, and many more who were already dead before he could reach them.
"Yesterday it was. But look at you; the amount of Cursed Energy coursing through you could power an entire continent," Stark stated. "If we could harness this energy naturally, like you do, that fantasy becomes reality." The armor spread its arms outward as if embracing the future.
Ethan seemed to think for a minute, then he spoke. "If you think that's the way, more power to you. But I'm running late; there's been a child abduction in L.A."
"I'm coming with you. I mean—my suits are," Stark immediately corrected.
"No, I won't need help with this one. Although, I could use your assistance with another matter... you know what, forget I said anything," Ethan hesitated.
"Come on now. What is it? Don't leave me hanging," Stark insisted.
"Oh... I am going to regret this," Ethan sighed. Tora transmuted the file Miss Adler had passed to Ethan, letting it float in front of the primary suit. The armor took the file and scanned the contents.
"A family of four has gone missing. No contact for three days. I suspect Cursed Spirit involvement," Ethan commented as Stark analyzed the records. "See if you can find them. Cursed Spirits usually hunt in the same location, so search for similar incidents around that area. Then we can talk about you going curse hunting."
Tora opened a Sling Ring portal to Pasadena behind him, and Ethan prepared to step through.
"And Stark," Ethan called out as Tora transmuted a wooden box that began floating toward the primary armor. "The box contains a kunai. If you find them, throw the kunai—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Throw the kunai on the ground and you appear in seconds, the scary part is, I can tell you are not joking," Stark finished for him.
"One more thing: if by chance you encounter one, flee," Ethan added, flashing him a small smile before the portal closed in front of the suit.
"Alright, Jarvis. Peter Pan has given us some homework. Let's get to it."
"I am already on it, Sir," Jarvis replied.
Few hours later:
Tony could be seen in his Acura NSX roadster, driving along a highway flanked by a dense cluster of trees on both sides. He adjusted his sunglasses, tapping the frame rhythmically.
"Are you sure this is the place, Jarvis?" Tony asked for the second time, his eyes scanning the shadowed treeline.
"I am quite certain, Sir; you are currently 782 meters from the Matthews family's final coordinates."
"The RV was last captured on a closed-circuit camera at the toll booth ten minutes prior to their disappearance. I've also cross-referenced the cell tower pings, Sir—the connection was abruptly severed. It's almost as if the vehicle drove into a pocket of—"
"Jarvis? Jarvis? Don't leave me, buddy..." Stark muttered as the voice cut to dead silence. He removed his glasses, checking the internal GPS system of his modified Acura NSX roadster.
[NO SIGNAL]
"What the..." Stark whispered, frantically trying different methods to establish contact. He bypassed the primary HUD, diving into the infotainment system and Apple CarPlay to reach the general emergency radio frequencies.
[STATIC]
He manually adjusted the wavelength, sweeping across the bands.
[STATIC AGAIN]
Just as he was about to give up on the frequency sweep, a faint, rhythmic sound bled through the white noise.
"A song?" Tony muttered, his brow furrowed as he reached out and increased the volume to maximum.
[Pixies — Que Sera, Sera]
When I was just a little boy
I asked my father, what will I be?
Will I be handsome? Will I be rich?
Here's what he said to me...
Tony was so intensely focused on the lyrics drifting from the radio that he didn't see the massive tree blocking the road ahead. He slammed on the brakes at the last possible second, the tires screeching as the car stopped mere inches from the trunk.
"Fuck!" Stark sat there catching his breath for a few seconds, then he stepped out of the roadster and walked toward the obstacle.
The music continued to play ominously from the open car behind him, the melody drifting into the silent woods.
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be...
"Caw, caw!" Suddenly, a murder of crows appeared—or was it an unkindness of ravens? Tony couldn't tell.
He rushed back to the car, reached into the backseat, and grabbed what looked like a suitcase.
This was the Iron Man Armor: Mark 43, an advanced version of the Suitcase Suit, the Mark V, which had been Stark's fifth Iron Man suit. It was the first suit to specialize in portability and easy access, famously used by Stark during the Duel of Monaco where it was damaged by Whiplash.
"All connection to the outside world is lost... How is that possible?" Stark muttered aloud as he pushed his hands into the briefcase. The suit began aligning itself over his body. "Good thing I automated the dressing-up process, or this suit would have been useless without Jarvis."
As the faceplate shut over his face, Tony didn't waste any time; he took to the sky.
In Fromville:
The sun was about to go down. Going out at night in Fromville is almost certain death. The town is haunted by intelligent, sadistic humanoid creatures that emerge from the surrounding woods after dark.
In the words of Donna, a resident of Fromville and the leader of Colony House: "They don't run. They like to take their time; they want you to know they are coming."
These pale, smiling humanoid monsters come out at night to hunt anyone caught outside.
They walk and never run, creating a methodical, inevitable terror in the hearts of the people trapped in Fromville.
They prefer slow killings; the creatures are not fast predators, but rather sadistic torturers who take pleasure in ripping apart their victims.
These monsters are highly intelligent and can mimic the voices of loved ones to manipulate people into opening doors and windows.
Without the protective Talismans—which must be hung inside a sealed structure—there is no protection against them. The smiling creatures retreat during the day to sleep in hidden, underground caves, making the night their exclusive time for hunting.
Sheriff Boyd, the leader of the town, and Father Khatri, the sole priest of Fromville, could be seen inside the Sheriff's station.
"I buried this bag the day I arrived... the day I saw that damn tree," Father Khatri spoke as he handed an old, brown, dusty bag to Boyd. "Open it."
The first thing Boyd saw in the bag was an old liquor bottle. "Holding out on me?" he immediately jested.
Then, he pulled a white shirt covered in blood from the bag. "This yours?" When Khatri nodded, Boyd asked again, "I am not talking about the shirt; I am talking about the blood."
"There is another item in the bag," Khatri quietly added.
Boyd pulled out what appeared to be an old candy bar from the bag.
"I mean, what is this? What the fuck is going on?" Boyd raised his voice, losing his patience.
"We never really discussed who we used to be before we came here," Khatri spoke as he leaned against the desk. "There was this young boy in my congregation. He was quiet, sensitive; he used to get so excited when his mother let him put a dollar in the collection box. One day, after Mass, I found him lingering outside the rectory. It was unusual. You know, he wasn't really the type of kid to stray too far from his parents. They were very... strict. Rigid. I get it; parents worry about their kids, sometimes you have to..." He sighed heavily.
"Sorry, do you mind?" He motioned toward the old liquor bottle and took a big sip. Boyd didn't say anything; he just stood there, waiting for the priest's confession.
"Ahhh. Anyway, the point is the boy was upset. He asked if he could stay a while, but I had to prepare for evening Mass, and I didn't want the parents to worry. So I... I gave him a candy bar." Khatri lifted the candy bar from the bag.
"I could see he didn't want to go. But I handed it to him and I sent him away. Later that evening, I went by the house. It was a bit unorthodox; you know, I am not really in the habit of making house calls. But something was nagging me. As I walked into the driveway, the mother, she came out running. Hysterical. Inconsolable. She was... and I could smell the alcohol the moment I stepped through the door. And the father was just standing there with this panicked, dumbfounded look on his face. 'Get up, get up,' he said. I walked over and stepped into the room, and there he was. This sweet, innocent boy... just lying there broken. His neck was just bulging in a way... and I could see it in his pocket, The Candy Bar, I gave him. 'He'll be fine,' that's what the father said. 'He'll be fine.' It was the way he said it; he sounded indignant. Next thing I knew, I was on top of him, smashing his face as hard as I could. I couldn't stop..."
------------------------------------------------------
A/N: So how was the chapter?