Civil War Prose Novel Read Free

his mouth slack, eyes wide.
    The kids had moved out into the street, also staring. One of them dribbled a basketball absently, nervously.
    Thrasher strode forward, sudden alarm in his eyes. “Speedball…Robbie. Help me get these kids out of here!”
    Ashley was chattering too, in his ear.
    Speedball didn’t move, didn’t even nod. Once again, he felt like he was watching events, images, moving in a prerecorded pattern on some high-def screen. Does any of this matter? he wondered. If it all goes wrong, if it doesn’t follow the right script, can we just do another take?
    Or is this the last, the only take?
    Nitro was a ball of fire now. Only his glaring eyes were visible, searing into Namorita’s.
    “You’re playing with the big boys now,” Nitro said.
    The energy flared out from him, consuming Namorita first. She arched in pain, let out a silent scream, then dissolved into skeletal ash. The shockwave continued to spread outward, engulfing camera, cameraman, school bus. Night Thrasher, then Microbe. The house, and the three villains sprawled in its backyard.
    The children.
    Eight hundred fifty-nine residents of Stamford, Connecticut died that day. But Robbie Baldwin, the young hero called Speedball, never knew that. As Robbie’s body boiled into vapor, as the kinetic energy inside him burst forth for the last time into the void, his final thought was:
    At least I won’t have to get old.



ENERGY tingled across his skin, dancing along the millimeter-thick sheath covering his body. Wireless sensors reached out, touched matching circuits on boots, chestplate, leggings. Microprocessors winked to life, each one faster than the last. Armor plates snapped open, seeking out his body, locking into place, completing each circuit in turn. Gloves clicked onto fingers, one two three four-five-ten.
    The helmet came last, wafting easily into his hands. He lifted it onto his head and snapped the faceplate down.
    With the first light of dawn, Tony Stark rose up into the Manhattan sky.
    Avengers Tower dropped away below. Tony looked down, executed a vertical half-turn. The Manhattan skyline spiraled into view, majestic and sprawling. To the north, Central Park lay like a green blanket on a bed of gray. Southward, the tall, tapering maze of Wall Street narrowed to a sharp point in the water.
    New York was home, and Tony loved it. But today he was restless.
    A dozen indicator lights clamored for Tony’s attention, but he ignored them. Where, he wondered, should I go for breakfast this morning? The Cloisters? Quick jaunt to the Vineyard? Or maybe a longer hop, down to Boca? Serena would just be setting up for the day at the Delray Hyatt—she’d be stunned to see him again.
    No, he realized. Today he was restless. Today would be different.
    With a quick mental command, he dialed Pepper Potts. The call went straight to voice mail.
    “Cancel my morning,” he said. “Thanks, doll.”
    Pepper was never off duty. The voice mail meant she was deliberately ignoring him. No matter; she’d be acting on his instructions within minutes.
    Tony banked sideways, cast a quick glance down at Central Park. Then he fired up his boot-jets—and the invincible Iron Man shot out across the city, over the East River.
    The phone-messages light was winking, but Tony couldn’t deal with that yet. He clicked the autopilot on, making sure the special FAA notification beacon was activated. He soared over LaGuardia Airport, banked left, and blinked twice at the RSS feed. Before his eyes, a menu of headlines appeared.
    More economic trouble in the European Union; he’d have to double-check his holdings later. Another Mideast war looked ready to break out, maybe as soon as today. Pepper had flagged a magazine feature on the Mexican subsidiary of Stark Enterprises too. Tony would have to make sure Nuñez, that division’s COO, remembered the company’s strict no-munitions policy.
    And the Senate Metahumans Investigations Committee was in the news again. That