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“—ee you soon, Mister Stark!”
The recording shuts off. Tony swirls his glass of whisky absentmindedly, staring at the spot where the holographic projection the audio waveform had been playing.
“Play it again, FRIDAY.”
“Boss,” the A.I. says, “I really advise that you get some sleep—”
“Play it. Again.”
The waveform starts again. Peter’s voice rings through the dark workshop. “Hey, Mister Stark—I know you don’t usually listen to these but, uh, I just—well—Karen said FRIDAY told her you were having a bad day, so, um, I’m gonna bring in sandwiches. Delmar’s sandwiches always make me feel better, you know? When I’ve had a rough day. If—if you have a preference for what you want in it, uh, call me back, okay? Or I can just get you my favorite. Yeah, I’ll get you my favorite. See you soon, Mister Stark!”
Tony sets his whiskey glass down. “Those are his last recorded words, FRIDAY,” he says softly. “‘See you soon, Mister Stark’.”
“Boss, I really think you should—”
“Nope. No. FRI, you don’t get to tell me what I should do. I know what I should’ve done. I should’ve offered to drive him. Drive him home from school. Drive him to Stark Tower. Because if I drove him, he wouldn’t have to walk. He wouldn’t have to cross the street.”
“Boss—”
“Is that what I should’ve done, FRI? Driven him? Cause if I drove him, that car wouldn’t have hit him? Cause if I drove him, maybe they wouldn’t be scraping his blood off the pavement?”
“That’s—”
“Why, FRI?” Tony’s voice rises. “Why is he dead? He’s Spiderman. He’s stopped speeding trains with his bare hands. He faces down supervillains and guns on a daily basis. So how—” the legs of the stool screech against the floor as he stands, “—did a goddamn reckless driver kill my kid?!”
The whiskey glass shatters against the wall. Tony stares at it for a moment, jaw clenched and chest heaving, then lets out a wordless shout of rage and kicks his stool across the room.
“Boss,” FRIDAY starts again, only for Tony to round on her.
“SHUT UP!” he screams. “Just—just— fucking shut up! I don’t fucking care if I need to sleep or if I need to stop drinking or if I should calm down—my kid is fucking DEAD, FRIDAY! And I can’t even point fingers because the guy who did it is dead too and—and—”
His next words come out as a mangled sob. Without warning, his legs fold under him. He catches himself on the edge of his desk, but he’s too weak to hold himself up. He crumples to the floor.
“Boss…”
“Go away, FRI,” Tony croaks. “Just leave me alone.”
FRIDAY has no choice but to obey. The hologram vanishes as she moves away, plunging the room into total darkness. Tony knows he’s going to regret shouting at her later, but he’s too mired in guilt and grief to even begin to consider an apology. For now, he just curls into a fetal position and shuts his eyes.
Alone in the darkness, Tony presses his hands over the aching emptiness in his chest and cries.