The Limits of Authority
"Why are you so comfortable, if I may ask?" Tony asked as he looked at Owen reclining calmly in the private jet, eating fruit.
"Do you want me to be upside down just to make you happy seeing someone uncomfortable?" Owen replied calmly.
"Honestly, yes," Tony answered, nodding clearly.
"I still have time to torture you and get those passwords out of you," Owen said with a serious look.
"You know you can sit however you want, my plane is your plane," Tony quickly offered.
"Hey, I like you for being an idiot born with golden diapers," Owen joked, flashing a smile.
"They weren't gold. They were made of a special fabric worth more than gold," Tony responded. At some point, Owen's straightforward attitude didn't bother him so much; he seemed easy to get along with, unlike those serious, focused military types.
The plane had been sent by Pepper, so it had all the necessary comforts, even doctors and nurses who checked on Tony while he talked with Owen.
Meanwhile, Rhodes was in a corner talking on the phone, probably with his boss or the general, reporting that the rescue had been successful.
Owen looked out the window with interest as he continued eating calmly.
After several hours, the plane landed and a car was waiting outside. Pepper, a beautiful red-haired woman and Tony's secretary, quickly appeared with a relieved smile upon seeing him arrive, although her slight malnutrition and the piece of metal embedded in her chest with a small light shining, as well as a cast on her arm, were noticeable.
"Red eyes, tears for your lost boss," Tony said as soon as he saw her, though his voice carried happiness, something Owen noticed with his keen eye.
"They're tears of happiness, I hate job hunting," Pepper replied with a smile.
"Then vacation's over," Tony said quickly.
Both got into the car, where the driver and bodyguard Happy were already waiting.
Just as Owen was about to go watch TV and check if the general had listened to him, Tony rolled down the window and said:
"Hey, don't you want to see live what you were hoping for?" he said, pointing to the front passenger seat, right next to Happy.
"Still scared and want me to watch your back?" Owen joked, opening the door before getting in without further ado.
"I'm in my zone. Few dare attack me here," Tony replied quickly.
"I'd like to hear you say that in Hell's Kitchen," Owen calmly retorted.
"I'm sure a king doesn't roam the poor neighborhoods either," Tony answered.
Owen ignored him as the car started moving. Tony talked in the back with Pepper, who wanted to send him to a hospital, but he refused.
On the way, they stopped by a burger joint before heading to the interview where reporters of all kinds awaited them.
Meanwhile, Owen made a call as he watched Tony walk up to the reporters.
"Old man, did you do it?" Owen asked nervously.
"Yes, don't worry. But make sure: with what we earn now, you'll become one of the 100 richest men, obviously after me," the general replied with a smile.
"Of course. Just watch Tony. Remember everything to the fullest," Owen said quickly.
"Alright, alright, whatever. I'm sure if what you say happens they'll investigate you, but don't worry, the army has your back," the general assured him.
Owen hung up, smiling.
"The old man knows how to keep his men's trust," he commented, though he didn't care that much. The general was like a father figure to him.
Just then, Tony announced he would shut down arms production and factories. The investors behind him stood up quickly, especially an old man who looked at him angrily for a moment before shifting to a paternal expression.
"Looks like my eyesight is getting better," Owen said, watching the scene.
With nothing else to do, he left without waiting and hailed a taxi to take him to the army base. He wanted to see the old man and his expression, now that he would get rich thanks to him.
The taxi arrived quickly since they were in a central area near Stark Industries.
Owen gave the driver the address and kept looking calmly out the window until his phone started ringing.
"Colonel Owen, your participation in a mission is crucial at this moment, so you have been deployed near Culver University," an authoritative voice said.
"What are you talking about? I just finished a mission. Only General Nathaniel can give me orders," Owen replied, frowning, annoyed.
"I'm sorry, Colonel Owen, these are orders from the highest authority. It doesn't matter if you just finished your mission; if you don't arrive at the meeting point, it will be considered desertion. It's for national security, you cannot refuse," the voice insisted quickly. "A team has been prepared for your use," it added before hanging up.
Owen frowned and called General Nathaniel, but there was no answer. Then he called the secretary of his office, who told him the general had gone out.
"Tsk, that place sounds familiar. Sir, please change course and head to Culver University," Owen ordered.
"Alright," the taxi driver replied, changing lanes quickly.
After about an hour of driving, Owen saw a military deployment through the window: cars, tanks, all moving through the streets.
"What a bad deployment," Owen commented, letting the taxi drop him off at a corner.
Upon arrival, he recognized the place and also someone who always annoyed him: General Ross.
"You're here. Put on the gear and assist Officer Emil Blonsky," Ross said, looking at him with slight disdain. Not because Owen was someone to look down on, quite the opposite. Ross had fought with Nathaniel to have Owen on his side, but Owen had refused and gone with Nathaniel. That earned him some resentment, though he had to admit Owen was very good at his job.
Before Owen could say anything or leave ignoring him, a military vehicle approached at full speed.
General Nathaniel stepped down from the vehicle with firm strides, fury marking every line of his face. He approached Ross directly, who awaited him with a mixture of defiance and tension.
"What do you think you're doing calling one of my men as if you could force him to commit that stupidity you're planning?" Nathaniel roared, his voice booming so loudly it made the soldiers around them tremble. Even Ross seemed to shrink under that relentless glare.
Although they shared the same rank, the difference between them was vast. Nathaniel had earned his position on the battlefield, slaughtering enemies without fear or pause. Ross, on the other hand, had risen through political connections and his strategic role in secret military programs and biological weapons. Both trained at the military academy, but in a direct confrontation, Nathaniel could devour Ross like a plate of spaghetti.
"Nathaniel, this is a matter of national security, and I am in command of the special forces of the…" Ross tried with his usual wordplay, but Nathaniel cut him off with a sharp hand gesture.
"I don't give a damn what you told the president to deploy units in the city center," Nathaniel retorted harshly. "That deployment is the worst I've ever seen in my life. There are still civilians out there, and you, Ross, have no right to control my men or interfere with my orders. I know perfectly well what you're trying to trap inside that university, and I'm not going to allow it."
He turned to Owen with a firm look.
"Owen, ignore that call. It was against my orders. They dared to interrupt my line and threaten my secretary. Don't think this will end here, Ross. I'll kick your ass, but not in front of everyone to spare your army-connected ego," he added seriously.
One of Ross's most loyal soldiers angrily intervened:
"Excuse me, General Nathaniel, but you have no right to speak to General Ross like that."
"Owen," Nathaniel ordered calmly.
Instantly, Owen whipped his arm like a black whip; the protesting soldier felt his jaw twist and collapsed unconscious to the ground.
Two soldiers nearby raised their weapons, an automatic reflex after the grave mistake they had just made. Raising a weapon against a general—even if not theirs—was madness.
Owen, with the agility of someone who had crossed relentless deserts, moved in a blink, a dark blur among the men. The sound of breaking bones echoed.
With a precise punch, he bent one soldier's elbow, and with a quick move took another's rifle, spinning it with both hands to strike the soldier's jaw with his elbow. That soldier wouldn't be eating properly for a long time.
Nathaniel, fury blazing, warned:
"Want to see who's in charge here, Ross? Don't mess with me."
Ross, realizing the disaster, knew his men had made a fatal mistake raising weapons against a general in front of him. The blame would fall squarely on him.
Before he could respond, a deep and terrifying roar emerged from the university.
Owen, holding the rifle he had taken, recognized the place and the sound.
"Shit," he muttered, aware the situation had become even more dangerous.