37Author's Notes: I reworked this chapter a number of times, and I think I'm finally happy with it.
Disclaimer: Any comments about nerds/geeks or what have you are not my own views. I'm very obviously a geek and take it as a compliment. I'm also a fan of Star Trek, so me pointing that one out isn't a jibe, it's written in to keep character. (Someone should let Tony know that nerdy is the new sexy. ;P)
Also, I obviously don't own Iron Man or Fullmetal. Everything you see here is borrowed with love. ;)
Chapter 1- The German Boy
Tony scanned the crowd of eager Time-Traveler wannabes, wondering why on earth he had agreed to this. As promised, he had flown across the country to attend the Time Traveler Convention in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The things he did to keep up appearances… Tony jotted a reminder into his Blackberry to look into hiring an actor to do these sorts of fluff events for him. Half the attendees were probably fluent in Klingon.
"I see you forgot your wig and sunglasses," came Marilee Jones's greeting.
Tony rolled his eyes and took a sip from the scotch in his hand—courtesy of the private jet. Like he expected a college campus to serve a 1949 Macallan.
"A shame, really. What was I thinking?"
"I'm just glad you decided to show up this time," Marilee said, sounding relieved.
"Yeah, well, Pepper wouldn't let me ditch. Neither would Jarvis—he just would not shut up…"
"Still, thank you."
And away she went. Tony followed her with his eyes, brows raised, as she migrated over to a possible Trekky group. They were all beams and wide glasses. Thanking the gods he had missed that particular train, Tony surveyed the room again. There must be someone here worth his time. He ignored the obvious pun and swept his eyes across the room again, taking another sip from his scotch glass. This time they alighted on a rather short, blond-haired adolescent in a red coat. He was standing in front of a group of serious-looking men in tweed jackets, speaking animatedly. His hands gestured wildly as he explained something, his whole face lighting up in his excitement. Something about this boy intrigued Tony enough to decide to listen in. The ice clinked in his glass as he side-stepped through the crowd and sidled up to the group.
"…completely possible, we just lack the technology," the blond was saying, "There are infinite possibilities we're not even considering. Time is just a gateway to another world. If we can find the right door and knock—"
"I've heard this all before. It's just wishful thinking," one of the men in the group interrupted. "What makes your research so special, hmm?"
"We already have a prototype," the blond explained, "And we're looking at time differently. It's not just a series of points on a line. It's all happening simultaneously."
"Not very scientific-sounding. What proof do you have?" another in the group countered.
"What you call science is just the definition of what you can explain through reason," the young man replied, sounding irritated, "A poor scientist calls what he can't explain nonsense. But a good one knows to look beyond what he can see and finds a way. Einstein was such a visionary, and so was Tesla, and look what they did."
"Tesla went crazy," a man in the group noted.
"Did he? Or did he discover something the government thought was too dangerous for the masses so they covered it up and discredited him? Don't believe everything you hear." The young man frowned. "I guarantee it's only a fraction of the truth."
"And why should we listen to you?" Tony spoke up, taking a sip from his glass and raising his eyebrows. The young man's golden eyes descended on him and for a moment he seemed put off by Tony's comment. Then he shrugged, like it was no big deal.
"I couldn't really care less if you believe me or not," he replied, "I know it's possible."
He said it with such conviction, the other men in the group looked uneasy. The blond noticed this and laughed abashedly.
"Of course, it would help if you did believe me—research in this country doesn't come cheap, you know. A few hundred thousand would go a long way to fund our little project."
There was a bustle of chatter as the men surrounding the teen rushed in to pledge their support. The blond nodded graciously, accepting card after card with promises of exorbitant amounts. Tony watched, impressed. The kid certainly knew how to work a crowd.
The group wandered away and the young man pocketed the cards, a satisfied grin on his face. He looked around, searching perhaps for another set of investors. Tony decided it was high time to step forward.
"You've got some balls on you kid," the billionaire said by way of introduction.
The blond seemed surprised at first, and then he recognized Tony from his last group of investors. He shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal.
"It's the only way to get what I want," he replied without remorse, "Besides, I ask for hundreds and I end up with tens of thousands. I didn't get to where I am today by toeing the line."
"Is that so?" Tony replied. The billionaire grinned into his scotch. The kid was cunning, cut from the same stone as him, so to speak. "Where are you from, kid?"
"Deutschland."
Germany? Tony's eyes narrowed as he took in the lad's blond hair. He may look German, but he certainly didn't sound it. His English was too smooth.
"I did a German girl once. Excellentah," he made an inappropriate gesture, "handling." The blond threw him a quizzical look.
"I'm not sure what you mean…" he replied.
"Right." Tony cleared his throat and took a sip of scotch. Time to change the subject. "So, what brings you to the Enterprise?" Again, that odd look. Perhaps he would have to dumb down his English for this kid. "The convention, I mean. Besides swindling a few bored businessmen out of their daddy's trust funds."
The blond laughed. "Well, I'd be lying if I said that's all there was to it," he replied, "But we're testing our first prototype today. If it works, it'll help turn some of these empty promises into research grants." He patted his pocket, where he had slipped the wad of business cards earlier.
It was at this moment that Tony noticed the kid's odd getup. His red coat had a curious symbol on the back of it—a black cross with a serpent wrapped around it—black shirt and pants underneath. And he wore white gloves. Gloves in May? Before Tony could question the youth on his attire, however, the lights dimmed briefly.
"Crap, it's almost time!"
With a short bow, the young man dismissed himself and ran off, pushing his way through the crowd. Tony frowned, watching him retreat. He was rather annoyed that their conversation had been cut short.
Tony watched the blond climb on stage and speak quickly with a tall African American student standing there. From what the genius billionaire could see from where he was standing, there seemed to be some sort of disagreement. The tall kid was frowning, and after saying something brief, the blond climbed under the white sheet and tinkered with whatever was underneath it. He emerged a minute later, looking troubled. He tried to explain something to his partner, but received a shake of the head for his efforts. The blond frowned and said something more, his eyes flashing in anger. Then the lights dimmed again and the two boys on stage looked alarmed. It was nearly time for the presentation.
The tall kid said one last thing to the short one in the red coat, and the two seemed to come to an understanding. The blond nodded, his face grim. The show must go on. The two took their places on the stage, on either sides of the device under the white sheet.
Marilee Jones stepped up to the podium and tapped the mic.
"Thank you for coming. We are glad to have you all here…"
Blah, Blah, Blah. Tony hated these opening speeches. They never said anything worthwhile. He sidestepped through the crowd to get a closer look, taking a spot on stage right, where he had a good side view of the device and the blond in the red coat.
"As a side note, we would like to welcome any time travelers in our midst, and ask that they come forward at this point to introduce themselves."
An awkward silence stretched out over the convention hall, the only sound a tittering of muffled laughter and the screech of interference from Marilee's microphone. After a long pause, the dean cleared her throat and continued.
"Yes, well, we understand if our time traveler friends wish to remain anonymous," she said. Another awkward pause. Someone in the back of the audience coughed. Marilee hitched her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and proceeded as if nothing was wrong.
"And now, let me introduce Samuel Hockfield, one of our most accomplished graduate students here at MIT, and Edward Elric, our esteemed guest student from Germany's Technische Universität München. These two have been working hard over the past year, and now they will demonstrate their time machine prototype."
Cheers went around the room, and Tony nearly choked on the last of his drink. Time machine? Who were they kidding? They didn't really expect it to work, did they? Tony sized up the kid, Edward, and found the oddest twinkle in the young man's eyes. Hope? Anticipation? He couldn't be sure.
The tall kid—Samuel—pulled the white sheet off with a flourish and started talking about time travel and how they expected the machine to work. Tony barely listened. Had he been paying more attention to the presentation going on, perhaps the renowned billionaire genius might have caught the obvious flaws in Mr. Hockfield and Mr. Elric's design. But, of course, he was far too interested in the 'German' enigma standing in front of him. So when Mr. Hockfield flipped the 'on' switch to their invention, he, as well as the rest of the room of amateur physicists, were unprepared for the results.
A flash of light, a resounding boom and Tony found himself up against the side wall of the convention hall with patches of black dancing in front of his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to shake his daze. His head ached and the spot where it touched concrete was tender—he must have hit it pretty hard. Hold it—what had happened? When his vision finally flickered back, he took in his surroundings. The time machine was smoking at the front of the room. The German kid was unconscious next to him, looking worse than he did. His face was rolled to the side and there was a scrap of metal sticking out from his right arm.
Any other man on Earth would have concluded that the shrapnel in the young man's arm was from the machine that—as he now presumed—had exploded and thrown them across the room. Not Tony Stark. It was clear that this metal was not from the tin contraption smoldering up on stage. Not to mention the obvious lack of blood oozing from the blond's severed limb. Before the crowd of concerned bystanders could discover his injury, Tony flipped the tail of his red coat up to conceal it. If this kid was anything like him, then secrecy was first on his list of priorities.
Hogan had, for lack of a better word, elbowed his way through the crowd to his employer, leaving a score of disgruntled convention-goers on their collective behinds for the second time in as many minutes. Tony grabbed the hand his body guard held out, extremely grateful to be helped to his feet. It took a few seconds to secure his footing, and then he turned his attention back to the immobile junge.
"Call the pilot, Happy, and bring the car around. I think this convention is over." He lifted the young man's small frame into his arms, careful to keep the injured limb hidden. People were starting to move, to break out of the shell-shocked stillness in the aftermath of the explosion, and Tony intended on being long gone by the time people snapped out of it and started asking questions.
Author's Notes:
1.1: Marilee Jones was a real dean at MIT. She resigned in 2007 after nearly three decades as the Dean of Admissions after admitting to having fabricated information on her resume. If you Google it, you can find the full article from the New York Times.
1.2: There was a Time Traveler Convention in 2005 on May 7, at MIT. The wiki page has since then been deleted…which is too bad because I based some of the dialogue in this chapter on that. The NPR article and New York Times piece are still pretty amusing.
1.3: I think I got Samuel Hockfield's name by stringing together 2 names on one of the MIT wiki pages, or the time traveler Convention page…it's been so long I honestly can't remember.