| doctors_dancing ( @ 2008-06-30 11:36:00 |
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| Entry tags: | iron man, james rhodes, story: found...but still searching, tony stark |
Found...But Still Searching 3/?
“Tell me exactly what happened when the convoy got hit.”
Rhodey glanced over at Tony as their limo headed west on Sheik Rashid Road. Eventually they would turn to the southwest, following the Arabian coastline until they reached the villa Tony was using until the one on The Palm Jumeirah was completed.
Skyscrapers, rising up on both sides of the road, glittered in the evening light, and the traffic, though heavy, moved along at a steady clip as they skirted the edge of downtown Dubai. Everything looked clean and sharp and vibrated with the energy of a modern growing twenty-first century metropolis. Carefully structured landscapes, filled with lush green palm trees and sparkling pools of water, alternated with sandy desert patches of undeveloped land, architecture that raised the bar on what was possible, and massive new construction projects. Tony stared out at it all; a dark shape slumped against the window, his head pressed against the tinted glass.
Sighing to himself, Rhodey considered how to answer Tony. He had hoped Tony would fall back to sleep once they had gotten him in the limo; Rhodey knew the transfer from the C-17 to the Gulfstream and the short flight to Dubai had left Tony completely drained. However, Rhodey recognized the distracted look on Tony’s face, and knew what it meant. Something was running through his head and, exhausted or not, Tony was going to worry at whatever it was that had his attention until his body simply shut down on him.
“Not much to tell,” Rhodey finally said. “We got hit, they grabbed you and then it was over.”
“A little more detail would be nice.”
“Hey, I‘m the wrong person to ask. After they hit the first Humvee, a few of us tried to get to your vehicle, but all the gunfire kept us pinned down. And then something blew up and the next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital a few hours after the fact.”
“You probably got hit by the same RPG that got me,” Tony said. “Sorry about that.”
“Wasn’t your fault. You didn’t shoot it.”
“Maybe not.” Tony grimaced. “But I’m the one who made it.”
Frowning, Rhodey wondered where the hell that comment had come from.
After repeatedly reviewing the attack over the last three months, Rhodey still found one thing that bothered him about how the whole scenario had played out. On the surface, the attack had the appearance of a straightforward snatch and grab, but the way the insurgents had executed that attack…
“What is it?”
Surprised he had drifted enough that he hadn’t noticed Tony watching him; Rhodey shook his head and said impulsively, “I don’t think they were after you.”
“What?”
Rhodey stared at the back of the passenger seat as he organized his thoughts. “They couldn’t have known which vehicle you were in-- for all they knew, you could have been in the lead Humvee simply because it had the best view.”
“Someone at the demonstration could have radioed ahead.”
“Doubt it.”
“Okay, you shot that down quick. Any particular reason why?”
“It doesn‘t fit,” Rhodey said. “Even if someone had radioed ahead, you don’t shoot rocket propelled grenades at the person you’re trying to kidnap-- for obvious reasons.” He waved a hand at the Arc Reactor hidden under Tony‘s t-shirt. “And they weren’t exactly being selective about where or what they were shooting at.” Rhodey shook his head again. “No, I think it was just a random attack that got lucky. Someone must have spotted you after you got out of the Humvee and decided then and there to grab you. Not many people ride around Afghanistan in a military convoy wearing a business suit and drinking scotch.”
“Yeah well, I’ve never looked good in desert brown,” Tony said as he turned away.