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death takes many forms.
it comes in dark shadows and in fiery explosions and in soft sunsets with their waning rays of light. sometimes a sudden assault, sometimes it is a violent surprise, sometimes it is a gentle embrace.
always it is final.
there are men that shy from death, those who cower from it. there are men that hide from death, those who deny it. there are men that embrace death, those who welcome it.
then there are those who boldly look death in the eyes and challenge it. don’t you dare.
tony stark has accepted his morality.
he has dreaded and embraced his own death at different times, but never has he denied it. it is an inevitability.
even still, tony stark challenges it.
so many times he has come face to face with the grim reaper and the grim reaper has always blinked first.
tony stark has been marked by destiny, but in the end the only mark that matters is the final one.
and every life is destined to end.
—
the first time tony stark met death came with shrapnel in his chest and knives carving through him.
tony woke up to burning pain and wild confusion. unfamiliar hands were digging through his chest and voices he could not understand spoke rapidly in a foreign language.
he reared back, stricken. led by only unadulterated panic and terror, he began to fight blindly and wildly, desperate for a savior.
it was in his hysteria that death first approached him. a simple shrouded figure who regarded him perceptively.
it was enough to stop tony in his tracks, enough to make him listen.
death’s first words were calm, insistent. they left no room for questions or arguments.
“you will live.”
“what? please- help me!” tony pleaded. “I don’t understand!”
death stared at him with a quiet patience, serene in his omniscience.
“you will live,” he repeated with a ghost of a smile. “you will survive this.”
the scalpel cut back in and tony yelped with pain.
“help!” tony begged, but already death was disappearing, leaving nothing in his wake but a fateful declaration and tony’s agonized screams.
the last thing tony saw before he slipped out of consciousness again was yinsen’s face swimming blurrily before him.
“hold still, mr. stark,” he said, his face drawn tight and serious from behind his glasses. “I am trying to save your life.”
tony would endure three long months of captivity, marred by torture and pain. it was during this time though, that he would find himself.
the strongest iron is forged in the most intense fires and this would prove no exception. tony stark emerged from that cave as iron man and nothing would ever be the same.
—
the second time tony felt death’s presence, it was more slippery. this time he felt like a familiar stranger, just as traitorous and elusive as the poisonous blood coursing through tony’s veins.
palladium poisoning. after every ordeal he had gone through, torture and kidnapping and fights, he would instead die mundanely, a slow death. not at anybody’s hands but his own.
the very device that had saved his life was slowly poisoning him. it almost seemed symbolic, killed by his own technology, poison injected into his heart. the universe surely was laughing to itself, poetic justice abounding.
tony didn’t want to die. not at all, but it seemed inevitable. he had tried every known element, tested every combination, made all the diagrams and models.
nothing worked.
he was going to die, so the least he could do was accept it. there was something liberating about the prospect of immediate death.
he tried to secure his legacy.
he appointed pepper the CEO of stark industries in his place. she would be his successor. it was a move he should’ve made long ago. he knew she would be excellent.
he let rhodey take his own iron suit, confident that he at least would do good with it. with his death it was nearly inevitable that the government would capitalize on the technology and if it was going to happen tony would rather the effort be led by the person he trusted the most. rhodey was a good man. he would ensure the suits were used for good.
if tony was going to leave this world he wanted to be damned sure he was leaving it a better place.
he figured he might as well have some fun with the time he had left. so what? he became reckless, self-destructive, suicidal.
who cared if he was doomed anyways?
tony remembered the loss he felt after jarvis died, after his mother. he figured he would use his advance warning to lessen the suffering of his loved ones as much as possible. it was the least he could do.
so he alienated them.
with wild parties and stupid drunken stunts and blunt comments that he didn’t really mean.
in the end he just wanted to protect them.
but it wasn’t enough. he was never good enough. always letting people down.
this time death met him in his workshop, angry and dismissive. his words echoed nick fury’s but somehow infinitely more powerful.
“you’re going to throw away this gift?” he scoffed. “you’re going to waste it?”
“I’ve tried everything,” tony insisted, tired of making the same arguments again and again. “nothing works.”
death shook his head, annoyingly haughty. “try harder. it is not your time.”
“why do you care anyways?” tony tossed back, but death did not answer.
instead he stepped back, fading into wisps of smoke. tony’s hand darted forward, trying to snatch what was left from thin air.
of course he came up empty, but something about the way the smoke floated in the air, lingering and shapeless, reminded him of something. it gave him a stroke of inspiration, of genius.
“jarvis,” he said slowly, “could you kindly vac-u-form a digital wire frame? I need a manipulatable projection.”
when it came up he couldn’t breathe. instead he just stared in awe. it looked like an atom.
he got down to work.
tony stark might’ve met death, but he had no plans to die.
—
the next time tony met death was the first time his edges ever solidified, the shadowy wisps forming a true body. concrete.
tony had a missile in his arms and the weight of the world on his shoulders. he didn’t need a ghost.
even still, death was there. tony caught only a glimpse of a knowing smile.
death seemed almost proud?
but tony ignored him, focusing on the task at hand.
he guided the nuke with all the strength in his being. it didn’t matter that he had now pushed it successfully through the wormhole, which was closing beneath him. it didn’t matter that he didn’t truly need to keep going.
tony was guided by some primal instinct, some ancient pact between the stars. he couldn’t stop.
tony, surrounded by the vast expanse of space, felt not the wonder or familarity he might’ve expected. instead he felt searing fear.
he was cursed with knowledge.
the sky was splattered with stars and profound foresight pierced tony’s mind.
whatever was up here, this was the endgame.
it terrified him.
tony pushed forward until he felt himself losing consciousness, his vision tunneling.
words flashed though his mind.
you’re not the kind of man to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on the wire.
you’re my greatest creation.
don’t waste your life stark.
he gasped and tried desperately to stay conscious. he thought of pepper, that missed phone call, that missed connection. but now it was too late.
as his eyes drifted shut and as everything faded around him, he thought he heard a calm voice echoing.
“not yet.”
he fell.
—
tony didn’t see death again for a while.
he had other near death experiences of course. he watched people he cared about die. he mourned. he blamed himself.
but no, death did not visit him.
not until siberia.
not until one of tony’s best friends, one of his teammates, a fellow avenger, a man tony trusted with his life, a man he would’ve died for, not until that very same man tried to kill him, did death appear.
steve drove his shield into tony’s chest with the force of a small explosion. tony’s face plate had already been wrenched aside and he gazed up at steve with undisguised terror, the horror of the betrayal crashing across his exposed face.
steve looked deranged, manic. his blue eyes, which tony had seen so many times, dancing with merriment, alit with laughter, were now as cold and glacier as the ice he’d once been contained in. he looked, for a moment, every inch the merciless soldier others had made him out to be.
tony had always wondered how his dad had been such good friends with captain america. before now he’d never understood it, never recognized any familiarity between them. his dad was cold and harsh and cruel, while steve had always been a beacon of warmth and goodness and morality.
but now tony understood it. they were the same.
both of them were willing to crush whatever stood in their path in the name of moral rectitude or advancement or whatever other noble ideal they had set their mind to. if someone got in their way they would not hesitate to toss them aside, whether that person be a wayward son or an anguished friend.
the shield cracked through tony’s heart and yet again he thought the end was upon him. yet again he thought for sure he would die at the hands of a friend.
shockingly, steve managed to wrench himself away from tony, just moments away from making a permanent mistake. moments away from ending the eternal heartbeat of the infamous tony stark.
panting heavily, steve rose to his feet and stumbled away. he didn’t even give tony the courtesy of a glance as he left, his shield clattering to the ground at tony’s strangled request. tony watched him go, just another betrayal to add to a long list.
all this time, death stood by grimly. he didn’t speak to tony. he watched it all, a passive observer.
for the first time though, tony thought he detected a deep sorrow beneath the mask, something akin to sadness.
death didn’t have to speak for tony to understood. he had no intentions of dying in a remote siberian compound at the hands of a former friend.
so somehow, someway, he managed to stumble to his feet and drag himself further into the cold siberian wilderness. he was tony stark. he would always find a way to survive.
—
the next meeting with death felt like fate, a destiny proclaimed long ago and written in the stars.
tony was prepared to for this meeting. he had been waiting since the wormhole for this encounter.
he thought he knew what was to come. he thought he was ready. truly he had no idea how cruel death and fate could be.
thanos stabbed tony right through the stomach. the blade plunged in and tony knew that the end was upon him. he took raggedly breaths and waited for the final release.
he was going to die but he would accept it for the benefit of the universe. peter would survive. thanos wouldn’t get the stones. tony would give his life in the last effort to preserve the world. it was a worthy exchange. something worth dying for.
his only regret was that he would never marry pepper, never have that kid he dreamed about, never watch peter graduate. he finally had a life worth living and it was only then that he was asked to give it up. but even still he accepted it.
anything to prevent the snap, to fulfill his destiny, to save peter.
this time it felt worth it.
tony’s gaze found peter and he absorbed the image of the crying boy, ingraining him into his mind. his curls were wild and his face was flushed from the fight. there was a smear of blood across his cheek, but what hurt the worst was his horrified expression, the heartache crashing across his face. this poor boy, this child, tony’s kid was going to be forced to watch the death of another parent. tony met his eyes and tried to impart his love upon him.
all of this is worth it for you, kiddo.
but something was wrong.
tony felt death’s elusive shadow laying in wait and yet for some reason the presence was unfamiliar. death’s form would not fully solidify.
he was there, but only watching passively.
his presence seemed to exude forewarning. as if the worst was yet to come.
tony looked around, but he would not appear.
“not yet,” echoed in tony’s mind.
what did it mean?
“spare his life and I’ll give you the stone.”
tony looked up in horror at dr. strange. he wanted to scream in protest. no! this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
“don’t,” tony croaked, but it was too late and he couldn’t prevent it.
thanos disappeared with the stone and everything was wrong. the prospect of tony’s immediate death had waned, yet for some reason that didn’t stop the heaviness of his heart or the foreboding in the air.
no, death’s presence didn’t slip away as expected. instead it solidified, enshrouding the whole haunted planet in its gloom.
somehow tony knew something much worse than death was on the horizon.
death, in all his visits, had shown tony patience, irritation, anger, sadness. never pity. yet he wore it now.
“this was the only way.”
when peter stumbled toward him, panic in his eyes, that was the strongest tony had ever felt death’s presence. it was the most he had ever willed him away.
understanding crashed upon him and tony almost broke.
don’t take him! he cried.
please! if there is any mercy or justice in this universe, any semblance of balance don’t take the kid! anyone but peter, please!
his words were not heeded.
for the first time tony truly loathed death.
tony had held nuclear bombs and buildings and entire cities and whole countries and moons on his back. he had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, the burden of legacy and the charge of destiny. despite all that, peter’s body was the heaviest thing he had ever carried. it had a weight he could never handle.
when peter crumbled so did tony.
death gave him one last look of pity. “I’m sorry.”
the words were genuine but tony did not respond. he was numb. peter was gone. death had taken him. no apologies could make it right.
death faded away, heartbreakingly reminiscent of the what had occurred just moments ago and tony was left stranded on a foreign planet, hopeless and broken. he, for the first time, almost willed death back. at the very least, he could take tony too.
but no such mercy existed and instead tony had to endure his eternal curse: being the one who survived.
later tony bitterly thought about how everything he touched turned to ash. his very presence could ruin the divine. anything that was beautiful would tarnish in his grip.
it was a company designed to help others, to innovate and create, turning into profiteering war machine under tony’s leadership and guidance. it was ultron, a machine intended to save the world now bent on destroying it, built by tony’s hands. it was the avengers, a valiant group of heroes, falling apart with tony’s input. but worst of all, it was peter, a vibrant idealistic kid crumbling in tony’s arms.
everything I touch turns to ash.
maybe he and death weren’t so different. maybe that was the point all along.
—
only the good die young, tony thought bitterly. but that wasn’t true at all. the chosen weren’t good or evil, young or old, they were merely hapless victims of thanos’s “mercy,” sacrificed for the “greater good.”
although it was tony who felt like he had been offered up, a sacred lamb. it was tony who was subjected to the worst cruelty, the sharpest edge of thanos’s sword of mercy. he lived.
but not quite.
on the journey home, tony suffered. him and nebula formed an unlikely bond, borne from shared tragedy, shared trauma. it wasn’t enough to save them.
adrift and lost in the expanse of space, tony couldn’t help but think back to the wormhole. maybe this was what he sensed so many years ago. maybe it was this fate that he’d been destined for all along.
a personal torture, to unheroically die after such a bitter loss.
tony’s stab wound had not yet healed and it pulsed painfully, a reminder of his failure. by the time they ran out of food and water, provisions going dry, tony had already accepted the fate.
a cold, cruel end for an empty man.
he recorded one last message for pepper, hopeful that she at least had survived. or maybe equally hopeful that she hadn’t. at least then maybe they would be reunited.
it was a selfish thought but tony felt he could be afforded some selfishness in the end. after all, all his attempts at nobility and selflessness had yielded this.
so when the end came and the air got thin, tony was ready. he accepted it. no, he longed for it.
the sweet, sweet relief of death.
no more responsibility, no more pain. rest.
tony let his eyes drift shut as he laid in the cockpit, surrounded by the abyss. the brilliant light of billions of stars, all of which had been crossed around him.
misfortune flamed.
but atlas, tony stark could never be that lucky.
there is no rest for the wicked nor the weary so where did that leave him?
death came insistently, determined.
“it’s not your time yet.”
he prodded tony. “get up.”
he was hard, business-like, no-nonsense. there was no sign of the apologetic figure from mere weeks ago.
tony didn’t care. he didn’t respond. let someone else be responsible for the weight of the world. he’d already carried nukes on his shoulders and moons on his back and his dying child in his arms. legacies on his shoulders. he could bear no more burdens.
but death was unsympathetic.
he goaded him, trying to get a rise.
“you failed. the great tony stark. weren’t you meant for more? probe yourself! the great merchant of death?”
tony had lost his anger though. he had lost his care.
he was apathetic. tired. he was drained. no will left to fight. no hope. he distantly knew that he should be angry. he should rage against death for what he had done, what he had taken from him.
he should fight on peter’s behalf. scream into the abyss. singlehandedly battle against the stars.
but he couldn’t be bothered.
he opened his eyes and squinted up at death, trying to convey his apathy. he realized for the first time that death was scared. but that wasn’t tony’s problem.
he looked away again.
death then took a different tactic.
his voice became low. not exactly apologetic but understanding. he knew how to hit where it hurt.
“if you want any chance at seeing peter you’ll get up.”
there was something in his voice, some central truth or certainty that made tony pause. that made him look up again and reconsider.
there was a chance?
death was looking at him confidently. he knew he had won. he faded away into the velvet of the night and tony watched him go.
the promise of peter lingered in the air. it steeled him enough to hold on.
so when that bright light came in the form of captain marvel, tony begrudgingly lifted his head and accepted the ride.
—
the last time tony stark met death was at the final battle. five years after the decimation, tony had finally found some semblance of peace.
he was happy.
he had to live with his failure yes. he was forced to bear the burden of guilt and grief. not a day went by that he didn’t mourn peter. even still, he found some limited, muted, precious happiness. morgan and pepper. rhodey and happy. domestic tranquility.
he didn’t want it all to end.
the only thing that could make it better was if it didn’t have such a horrific price. if peter could’ve been there.
and now there was a chance.
tony could see the perfect future he’d always envisioned, practically within his grasp. he could have his family and he could have peter back. his kids interacting. everyone he loved okay.
it was so sweet, he could almost taste it.
first they just had to win.
so for the very first time, tony desperately wanted to live. sure, each time before had made him value his life. each prior incident had made him reevaluate himself and his values. every near death experience had changed him.
of course he never actively wanted to die.
but before this he had accepted it.
he had tolerated his role as doomed martyr. he was willing to sacrifice his life for the greater good. he viewed himself as a disposable means to an end.
don’t waste your life stark.
if I’m alive there has to be a reason.
this is my legacy.
his sole purpose was to ensure the survival of others. now though, he wanted more.
his life was no longer just an enjoyable journey, readily sacrificed when the universe required it. no, it was a priceless commodity. it was something he had never quite fully valued until this moment.
he didn’t want to die.
the realization sunk into him.
death is cruel. death is kind. death is neither.
tony saw him on the battlefield. walking calmly between the flashing lights and violent clashes. he looked at tony and they met eyes.
he finally understood. perhaps this was the lesson he was waiting for all along. now that he finally valued his life, death would leave him alone.
but no.
death smiled.
it wasn’t a look of victory or defeat. it was simply conclusion, finality.
after all those times before, all those near misses and lost chances. all those times he had quietly accepted death, all those times he welcomed it, even begged for it.
it had abandoned him.
now though. now that he pushed it away with everything in him. that’s when it conquered.
death only comes to those who dread it.
it is only in your steadfast denial that death finally takes the lunge.
tony looked away for an instant, distracted by the battle and death disappeared from his view. he was still there though, tony sensed him. biding his time, in wait of the soul he’d treasured for so long.
everything happened then so quickly.
thanos had the gauntlet.
he was battling captain marvel.
he threw her aside.
tony met eyes with dr. strange across the battlefield.
he held up one finger.
there was pity in his gaze.
tony knew what he must do. he darted forward. there was a struggle. he was flung away. in his grasp, the stones.
burning determination.
a cheesy one liner.
a snap.
then there was only pain.
the last act of defiance from the great tony stark.
death is not vengeful or cruel. he is patient and kind and inevitable. he has watched tony stark throughout the years, watched him fight and deny and desperately seek to live.
death has no grievance with tony stark. in fact each time that he has outwitted him, with brilliance and determination and pure will, death has been delighted, impressed. he always knew that tony stark had more to give to the world and the more he gave, the more for death to eventually take.
so now, when tony stark finally arrives death greets him as an old friend.
tony sunk to the ground, his body giving way from the force of the power he had just exercised.
he was iron. his blood was molten liquid and when he was cut his veins spilled rust. he was forged from fire.
now he would die from it.
did he not deserve a soft epilogue?
maybe, but death had no illusions of justice. the man who sacrificed his child for power died alongside the man who sacrificed himself for his child.
tony felt death’s hand graze his arm and he knew his time was limited.
rhodey.
there was silent goodbye, simultaneously nothing left to say and far too much. they had always connected on a level beyond words and now they conveyed it to each other one last time.
peter .
he came stumbling forward, denial and grief crashing across his face in equal measures. tony’s heart ached. kid. he did it all for him and looking at him now, vibrant and young and alive, he knew it was all worth it. peter, endlessly good, apologized through his tears as he was pulled away and there was nothing tony wanted more than to refute him. no kid. this isn’t your fault. I love you, buddy. I love you. instead he sat silently and hoped to god peter understand.
pep.
the love of his life. his wife. his everything. she reassured him that they would be okay. you can rest now. never had he admired her more. her strength, her dignity in the face of such hardship. god, she was beautiful. he gazed at her, strong smile and strawberry blonde hair, and he knew everything would be all right. she would raise morgan into an amazing person and they would be okay.
tony’s mind, forever whirling with ingenious ideas and endless musings, clung to one last thought. morgan was alive. peter was saved. they were his everything. his pride and joy. his legacy.
he had finally accomplished his destiny.
he felt his last breath leave him.
death pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek and then there was nothing.