They walked upstairs. The garage lights flickered off. And for one night, the man in the iron suit was just a man.
"I could just… one small thing," he whispered to the empty garage. "A gauntlet. Just the left one. For emergencies." iron man 3.rar
His hand hovered over it.
"Happy?" said a voice from the doorway.
Tonight, the anxiety came in waves.
Tony Stark still reached for his chest every morning. His fingers found soft cotton, not cold metal. No blue glow bled through his shirt. No faint hum accompanied his heartbeat. Just silence. They walked upstairs
It started as a tingle in his left hand—phantom feedback from a gauntlet he no longer wore. Then the images arrived: Aldrich Killian's molten face, the Vice President's cold smirk, the barrel of a tank aimed at a playground in Tennessee. Tony gripped the workbench until his knuckles went white. "I could just… one small thing," he whispered
