Chapter Text
Indy had thought that green mist was a little strange. He’d wandered closer to investigate. The first thought he’d had was that there was something in the middle of the mist, maybe generating it, causing it to take on a green hue. But...maybe Indy should have kept his distance.
The next thing Indy knew, he was tumbling down a slope. As it always did when the unexpected happened, Indy’s senses fired – and so did several guns, it seemed. Moving fast, Indy rolled undercover to avoid the rapid gunfire – far more rapid than any he’d ever heard before.
Peering out, all Indy could get was that he was in a desert.
Something suddenly flew overhead and there was a large explosion. Indy flinched down under his cover. Then there was a sound like an engine. It cut off with a clanking sound and Indy was aware of something standing over him. He looked up and immediately didn’t like what he saw.
He certainly hoped the voice coming out of it meant it was just a high-tech suit of armour.
‘Who are you? And why are you here?’
***
Rhodey glanced at the HUD display as the man slowly stood up, gun still drawn but not raised: Smith & Wesson; HE2; firearm condition inconsistent with year of manufacture. He then looked at the gun in question. It was the sort of classical gun that a lot of generals had as collector’s items.
But it looked too new, and this guy had clearly been prepared to fire it.
On top of that…
‘Indiana Jones,’ the man said. ‘As for why I’m here – I don’t even know how I got here.’
The HUD flashed up data.
Name: Indiana Jones.
1 match…
Henry Walton Jones II – born July 1, 1899.
Rhodey blinked. Either he looked good for a 117 year old or…
No. Rhodey knew exactly what had happened. He turned his head to contact base. ‘Get me a hard copy newspaper and a chopper.’
Jones looked curious.
Taking a breath, because if this guy had time travelled he came from an era where racism was the norm, Rhodey retracted his helmet just as other soldiers rounded the cover. ‘I’m Colonel James Rhodes.’
Jones looked at him, blinked in surprise and then tucked his gun away. ‘Why do I have the strangest feeling you have a better idea of what happened than I do?’
Well, that was a pleasant surprise. He’d have to look into this guy when he had the chance. He was surprisingly non-racist for a guy…from the 30s, judging by his age.
***
Indy stared down at the paper in his hands.
2016.
‘How the hell did I travel time?’ he finally muttered to himself.
‘No idea.’ Col. Rhodes walked back into the cabin.
After they were airlifted back to base, they moved into a small plane and were currently en route back to the states. The good news was that in the last 80 years, technology should have advanced enough for the flight to be quicker than what he was used to. Indy looked up as the African-American officer (another advancement made in the last eight decades) sat down opposite him.
‘If anybody can get you home, though,’ he said, ‘it’ll be Tony.’
‘And Tony would be…?’ Indy asked.
‘Tony Stark,’ Rhodes answered. ‘His dad made his fortune during the Sec—’ he cut himself off. ‘In the 40s. Tony inherited it and built on it.’
Translation: there’s another World War coming and his old man made his fortune building weapons. But Indy pretended not to notice the near-slip. It didn’t surprise him anyway, the way those Nazis were going. ‘He know we’re coming?’
‘Yeah, I just called him,’ Rhodes said. ‘Tony’s a genius, to put it mildly. But the first thing he wants to do is set you up just in case he can’t get you home.’
Indy pulled a face. As much as he didn’t like the idea, it was a valid concern. Indy had no idea how he’d hopped 80 years forward. How the hell could anyone realistically expect to get him back? But Indy appreciated they were at least going to try. Indy looked at Rhodes curiously.
‘Is he the one who built your armour?’
‘Yup, and he has one of his own too,’ Rhodes said. ‘He initially made it because he found out his weapons were being illegally sold to national enemies and being used to attack both allied soldiers and civilians.’
Indy winced. ‘So it was designed for use in war zones.’
‘Either to take back the weapons or blow them up, yep,’ Rhodes agreed. ‘But it has to be tailor-made to each pilot. That’s why there’s only two in the world. Tony and I have been friends since MIT.’ He shrugged. ‘So, when I say he’s the only one who can get you back, believe I mean that.’
Indy nodded, turning the information over in his mind. Obviously, this Tony Stark wasn’t your typical spoilt rich kid turned entitled rich man. He was actually willing to go into an active war zone and get his hands dirty. ‘How’d you pick out I’d travelled time so quickly?’
‘Mostly cause of your gun.’
‘My gun?’ Indy glanced down at his holster.
It suddenly hit him. His HE2 was a perfectly contemporary weapon…in the 1930s. But in 80 years, it would be an antique. It would be old…a collector’s item. It wouldn’t be the kind of thing a guy would carry around and use. And a military man would know that. So of course it’d been a dead giveaway that Indy was out of place in some way.
‘Hell…’ he muttered.
Rhodes just chuckled.
***
Happy was waiting at the airport when the plane finally touched down.
The boss was already elbows-deep in looking up the guy’s history. But, since Rhodey had said the guy was probably from the 30s, the boss wasn’t looking beyond that. Happy agreed with the idea that if they knew something bad about his future, it may slip out. Nobody needs that kind of information.
Also, the boss was accounting for the possibility that Dr. Jones was actually stuck here.
As the guy followed Rhodey off the plane, he slapped a broad-rimmed fedora onto his head. He looked like one of those action heroes from those old movies. Then again…in the 30s, those movies wouldn’t have been “old”. He may have even modelled his look that way intentionally. Or maybe, it was just practical.
‘Dr. Jones, this is Mr. Hogan,’ Rhodey said to the out-of-time archaeologist. ‘He’s Tony’s head of security.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Jones shook his hand.
***
Indy followed Rhodes and Hogan into an office building. There were a few curious glances, but most people kept their heads down and kept working. Indy followed the other two men into an elevator and they all rode it up. When they stepped out, Indy noted they were somewhere near the top of the building.
Everything was sleek and rounded in ways he wasn’t sure about.
Then again…he was sure there were things he thought of as normal and even attractive that someone from the 1850s would be put off by.
Indy paused as he heard what sounded like a man and a woman talking. The weird thing was they seemed to be talking over each other, and still responding to what the other said. Indy couldn’t follow it, but he saw Rhodes and Hogan give each other knowing looks. Hogan stepped forward and knocked on the door. The argument – if it was that – cut off.
‘Boss, Pep, Jones is here,’ he said.
‘Oh, thanks, Hap.’
Hogan stepped back and a man walked out of the office. He was dressed like any businessman Indy had ever encountered. And he was very clearly rich to look at him. He’d grown his facial hair out in an unusual style. Indy wasn’t sure if it was a fashion of the time or just a personal choice. The guy had to be in his 40s.
He was followed out by a redheaded woman in a business suit of her own. Indy found himself surprised as he realised she wasn’t a secretary. She moved with far too much authority and poise for that. Looked like race relations weren’t the only thing that’d progressed socio-economically in 80 years. Marion would be thrilled when he told her.
Marion…
Indy quickly pushed the thought of Marion back. The idea that he might never see her again was too painful to even think about. And he couldn’t really afford to be distracted right now. When he got home, he was supposed to be taking her out somewhere. He still hadn’t decided and she’d give him the flat end of the nearest object on hand if he didn’t.
‘Henry Jones?’ the man asked.
‘I prefer Indy.’
‘Sure thing,’ the other man chuckled. ‘I’m Tony Stark.’ He pulled a face. ‘1930s? This is gonna be so weird. I’m used to dealing with people who actually know my name.’
If that’d been said in any other tone, Indy would be inclined to think it was egocentric. But he actually sounded happy to be dealing with someone who hadn’t the faintest idea who the hell he was. Indy just chuckled and rubbed his eye. Either this guy was famous to ridiculous degrees for the suit of armour thing, or he’d had an intense amount of public exposure from a young age.
‘Oh, I’ll probably work it out,’ Indy remarked.
Stark grinned. ‘You probably will.’