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veldeiaAll right, people: here we go, finally! Chapter 1 of the longest story I've written completely before posting a word of it. The sequel of Iron & Irony, and a story very different from that one - while I & I was like an episode of House with Tony as the patient of the week, I & I 2 goes for a more comic-like storyline, with House as a guest star. As always, huge big thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
btsxbeta for the beta. :)
Iron & Irony: Second Encounters
by Veldeia
Fandom: Iron Man/House MD
Series: Sequel to Iron & Irony. (Has nothing whatsoever to do with Malt & Mockery, but even if it did, M & M would take place sometime after this fic.)
Spoilers: Late season 4 for House, but before the finale, so nothing big. Spoils all of Iron Man and Iron & Irony, of course.
Pairings: Tony/Pepper
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing, except for a messed up mind that likes playing with other people's characters and universes.
Summary: Working for an armored superhero is a dangerous business - Pepper and House learn this the hard way. Of course, the hero's part isn't a whole lot easier, either, nor is that of his best friend.
1. "Worried?"
As soon as he reached the site, Tony knew something was amiss.
He met only light resistance. A few men, armed with a seemingly random collection of submachine guns and pistols - nothing that would be any good against his suit. It was odd - if these people were careless enough to display crates with the Stark Industries logo openly in front of TV cameras, they should've known to expect him. After all, it was a generally-known fact by now that showing around SI weapons was a sure way to gain a visit from Iron Man.
It was more than possible that this was a trap, and that there was a whole army hidden in the mountainous terrain, or in the building these few sorry souls were guarding. It took Tony maybe about five minutes to deal with the five of them. Then he blasted open the door, eyed the entrance suspiciously for a moment, and stepped in.
It was a small warehouse, slightly bigger than his workshop, and it was completely empty, except for three crates with the SI logo, possibly the very ones he'd seen in the news. He scanned them. There was nothing in them.
There was definitely something strange going on here.
He walked to the crates and opened the nearest one. It was just as the scans showed, completely empty. He scanned the building again, expecting to find something dangerous - a bomb, a chemical weapon, maybe even a biological weapon. Instead, the suit sensors showed nothing out of the usual anywhere around him. An empty room with a dirt floor and walls and ceiling of corrugated iron, and three empty crates.
"I don't get it," Tony said aloud. "Why would they lure me here just to have me shoot at a few random hirelings?"
"Sadistic tendencies, perhaps?" Jarvis answered, taking Tony completely by surprise.
"Jarvis, is it just me or is your sense of humor getting worse by the day? I may need to do something about it."
"I apologize for the inconvenience, sir."
"Anyway, since this doesn't look like a trap, this obviously wasn't about harming me, so what would they gain from me being here instead of... Damn!" He should've realized it right away. He hurried out of the building and took off instantly. "They didn't want me here in particular, they just wanted me away from home," he told Jarvis as he gained altitude. "Don't know why, yet, but it can't be anything good."
It was only a half an hour's flight back to his waiting jet, but the trip from Eastern Europe to California would take a good fourteen hours. For a passing moment, he actually considered crossing the distance in the suit, it'd be faster - but no, he would avoid spending that long in it if he could. Besides, he hadn't heard about any problems at home yet. Maybe he had guessed wrong.
So, instead of sweating and suffering in his suit, he spent the half-day long return trip slouching half-asleep on a very comfortable couch. These excursions tended to leave him incredibly tired, and it was no wonder. Jet lag from usual business trips was one thing. He was so used to it that it rarely bothered him at all. Flying to the other side of the globe for a few hours' mission and then returning right away was something else entirely.
Somewhere over the vast blue expanse of the Atlantic he was suddenly struck by a sense of foreboding. It came out of nowhere, really. He had no reason to assume it was her they were after, there were many other people and things they could've chosen to target, but still...
"Jarvis, where's Pepper?"
"I'm afraid Miss Potts's current whereabouts are unknown, sir. However, as it's currently Sunday afternoon in California, that is to be expected."
All right, no need to freak out. Jarvis would only know where she was if she was at the mansion or the office. Since it was Sunday, there was no reason for her to be at work, especially when he wasn't there. She was probably at the beach, or jogging, or out meeting friends, or at home watching TV, or whatever. She had no obligation whatsoever to inform him of her comings and goings.
He tried calling her, but she didn't answer.
That didn't mean a thing, either. Might be that she was just avoiding him for some reason. In spite of what had happened at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital a month ago, Pepper still kept her distance, no matter what he did. Neither roses and romantic sweet-talking nor straightforward dirty suggestions had gotten him anywhere. Ah, well. He knew she loved him, she had said so herself. She was just playing hard to get. Sooner or later, she would break. It was inevitable. He sort of enjoyed the game, although he was getting impatient - and right now, a bit worried.
He asked Jarvis about Pepper's whereabouts half a dozen times during the remainder of the flight, but there was no news. He called her a few more times, but got no answer. He also called Rhodey and Happy, who both answered, but neither had seen Pepper since yesterday.
Once he was finally home again, Tony gave the suit a quick once-over - no damage worth mentioning. He climbed upstairs and sat on the sofa, scratching his goatee thoughtfully. It was 3 AM, so Pepper wouldn't be here in a while even if everything was perfectly normal. He could catch a nap. Or then again, maybe not, since he seriously doubted he'd be able to sleep, as tired as he was. He poured himself four fingers of whiskey and returned to his shop to try and distract himself with work.
He woke up at 6.30, with a set of funny red marks on his cheek where it had rested on the keyboard. Pepper usually showed up at 7 AM on workdays. Since yesterday had been Sunday, today was Monday, so he wouldn't need to wait much longer.
Unreasonably nervous, Tony made his way upstairs and sat on the sofa again. He turned on the TV and stared at the screen, perfectly oblivious to whatever was on.
At 7.30, he picked up his cell phone and called her once more - still no answer.
Pepper was never late. He was seriously starting to get worried here.
It was perfectly normal for House to be late, but Foreman thought two hours was really pushing it.
They were drinking their third cups of coffee, the new team still discussing last week's patients. The case itself hadn't been all that interesting. It was plain to everyone that House had only picked it because of the patients: a rare example of dicephalic parapagus conjoined twins - in layman's terms, Siamese twins with two feet, two hands and two heads.
"I still can't believe how perfectly they coordinated their actions, I mean, one controls the left hand, the other has the right, and still they're able to tie their shoelaces," Kutner said.
"Well, they've had plenty of time to practice, seeing as they've been stuck together for over twenty years," Taub noted.
Thirteen, like Foreman himself, seemed slightly distracted. "Should we be getting worried?" she asked, looking at him.
"Worried? No. Irritated? Definitely. I'll try calling him again," Foreman decided, and dialed House's cell phone for the fourth time that morning. No answer. He tried House's landline phone too, but only reached the annoying answering machine. He shook his head. "If he's avoiding work, at least he could've given us an advance warning so we wouldn't waste our time waiting for him."
"Well, seeing as we're basically getting paid for sitting around and drinking coffee, it's really not that bad," Taub said.
Thirteen ignored him, her attention still on Foreman. "We don't even have a case right now. What're we supposed to do?"
That was a very good question, and one that Foreman couldn't answer on his own. He stood up. "I'll tell you what. We've been waiting long enough. I'm going to talk to Cuddy, tell her House's gone AWOL, and see if she's got a patient for us. In the meantime, do what you want. Go to the cafeteria or something. I'll page you when I've got news."
He didn't go straight to Cuddy's office, but took a detour to stop by at Wilson's. If there was anyone in the hospital who might have a clue about House's latest crazy schemes, it was Wilson.
"No, I haven't seen him today," Wilson replied, frowning. His expression kept growing more concerned as he went on, "Last time I saw him was Saturday night. Now that you mention it, I haven't heard from him since. I'm... Well, you know, I was pretty drunk, but I think he was, too, and he was driving..."
"It doesn't have to mean anything," Foreman said reassuringly. It was House they were talking about, after all. No way he was going to start worrying yet. "I'm sure he'll show up soon enough."
Pepper sighed and shook her head as she watched Tony's jet take off once again. Since it was an Iron Man mission, he had adamantly refused to take her along. It was a typical enough case: he had spotted a group of terrorists carrying a crate with his name on it in the news, and now he was off to some middle-of-nowhere place in Russia to deal with them. It'd take him fourteen hours to reach his target and another fourteen to return, so he'd be away for at least a day. With him gone and her work hours over long ago, she had nothing to do but go home and try to get some sleep.
Typically enough, she couldn't stop thinking about Tony as she drove homewards. She was awfully anxious, like every single time he left on a mission. Tomorrow would be a very long day. She didn't know who she was kidding, trying to keep her distance from him. Definitely not him, since he obviously knew how she felt, and clearly not herself, because her emotions were already those of the superhero's suffering girlfriend. Then again, considering what a nervous wreck his missions already made her, getting into any sort of a real relationship with him would only make things worse. It might be wonderful for a while, but it could only end in tears. Not to mention the media repercussions, and the effects it would have on their working relationship, and so on. She'd be crazy to do that to herself.
Her thoughts were still somewhere far away with Tony when she got out of the car and started walking towards her front gate. Because of that, she only saw the two hooded thugs when they were almost by her sides. When she finally did notice them, it occurred to her that it was often the part of the superhero's girlfriend to get into trouble, so that the hero could save her.
Of course, she wasn't Tony's girlfriend, and she had no intention of getting into trouble.
She dashed towards the gate, knowing full well that the men wouldn't expect such fast action from a girl in a short skirt and high heels. She managed to get the lock open, made it to the yard, ran without bothering to close the gate behind her - and almost crashed into two more cronies, who were waiting for her right in front of the door.
"Potts, you're outnumbered. You can't run from us. Things will be far easier and more pleasant for you if you just cooperate," one of the crooks said in a pleasant, casual voice, with a slight foreign accent she couldn't recognize.
They knew her name. That fact made her panic rise to even greater heights. It was a pretty good clue that they did have something to do with her being Iron Man's personal assistant, and that this was something worse than random assault.
She turned around. It was around 10 PM, the street was empty, and the four thugs had her surrounded. Realizing it was what she should've done right away, she opened her mouth to scream for help. She didn't get out as much as a squeak before one of the men stepped closer and covered her face with a wet rag that had a vaguely sweet chemical smell.
It seemed she was going to play her part, whether she wanted to or not. Tony had better play his, too, she thought, as the world faded to black.
"My condolences," House told Amber, as he handed the dead-drunk Wilson over to her at their door. No sweet, sweet love for those two tonight, that much was for sure.
To his annoyance, the glance she gave him wasn't full of venom, but more of something like pity. A holier-than-thou-look, saying that she found it pathetic that he'd resort to something as childish as this just to get to her.
"Hope you had fun," Amber said, and slammed the door shut.
"Hey, I need to pay for the cab," he shouted, and rapped on the door with his cane, but she was ignoring him. Well, it was worth a try anyway.
He limped back to this car, settled behind the wheel and headed home. He was nowhere near drunk enough that it'd keep him from driving. He couldn't help looking back nervously every now and then, but it wasn't because he was afraid of the police catching him DUI. No, it was something far more interesting than that.
During the last few days, House had constantly had the feeling that someone was tailing him. Someone really skilled, too. He had only noticed them because he was good at spotting tiny details that others missed. Of course, if a patient had come to House explaining that they were being shadowed like this, he'd have labeled them psychotic right away. Still, he knew his mind, and he was pretty sure he wasn't losing it.
There, he saw them: a black car following him discreetly from a distance, headlights off. Who could it be? Another patient he'd pissed off? An over-eager detective? Either of those, it wouldn't even be the first time.
As curious as he was, House figured he'd be better off avoiding whoever it was. He took an unexpected turn to the left, and drove through a series of small, maze-like side streets, taking advantage of his knowledge of the area. Soon, he couldn't see the following car anymore. If they didn't know where he lived, he'd have lost them by now.
Maybe he was drunk and paranoid, but once he'd stopped the car as near to the door as possible, he took the time to write a note, which he left on the front seat. Just in case.
He got out of the car and eyed the empty street suspiciously. No sign of anything out of the usual. Either he had lost them, or there was no "them", and he was just so out of it that he had imagined the whole thing.
He stepped into the hallway - and that was as far as he got. He never even managed to open the door to his apartment, because they were already waiting for him. He hadn't lost them, they had gotten ahead of him. There were three men, dressed in black, with hoods shadowing their faces. None of them were taller than him, but they were all burlier, and obviously, unlike him, they were stone-sober.
"Doctor House, you will come with us," one of them told him bluntly, in a clearly Eastern-European accent. "Save yourself the trouble and do not resist."
Whatever they were up to, it couldn't be anything good, and House definitely wasn't going to go without a fight. He didn't bother waiting for the bad guys to make the first move. He whacked the nearest one with his cane. He felt it hit, but didn't gain as much as a grunt from the thug. He might as well have attacked one of the walls.
Strong hands gripped his arms, wrenched the cane away from him and forced him to stay still. One of the thugs slapped a cloth over his mouth and nose. He had barely enough time to wonder what they were using - chloroform, desflurane, something exotic he had never even heard of? - before he lost consciousness.
Chapter 2
btsxbeta for the beta. :)Iron & Irony: Second Encounters
by Veldeia
Fandom: Iron Man/House MD
Series: Sequel to Iron & Irony. (Has nothing whatsoever to do with Malt & Mockery, but even if it did, M & M would take place sometime after this fic.)
Spoilers: Late season 4 for House, but before the finale, so nothing big. Spoils all of Iron Man and Iron & Irony, of course.
Pairings: Tony/Pepper
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing, except for a messed up mind that likes playing with other people's characters and universes.
Summary: Working for an armored superhero is a dangerous business - Pepper and House learn this the hard way. Of course, the hero's part isn't a whole lot easier, either, nor is that of his best friend.
1. "Worried?"
As soon as he reached the site, Tony knew something was amiss.
He met only light resistance. A few men, armed with a seemingly random collection of submachine guns and pistols - nothing that would be any good against his suit. It was odd - if these people were careless enough to display crates with the Stark Industries logo openly in front of TV cameras, they should've known to expect him. After all, it was a generally-known fact by now that showing around SI weapons was a sure way to gain a visit from Iron Man.
It was more than possible that this was a trap, and that there was a whole army hidden in the mountainous terrain, or in the building these few sorry souls were guarding. It took Tony maybe about five minutes to deal with the five of them. Then he blasted open the door, eyed the entrance suspiciously for a moment, and stepped in.
It was a small warehouse, slightly bigger than his workshop, and it was completely empty, except for three crates with the SI logo, possibly the very ones he'd seen in the news. He scanned them. There was nothing in them.
There was definitely something strange going on here.
He walked to the crates and opened the nearest one. It was just as the scans showed, completely empty. He scanned the building again, expecting to find something dangerous - a bomb, a chemical weapon, maybe even a biological weapon. Instead, the suit sensors showed nothing out of the usual anywhere around him. An empty room with a dirt floor and walls and ceiling of corrugated iron, and three empty crates.
"I don't get it," Tony said aloud. "Why would they lure me here just to have me shoot at a few random hirelings?"
"Sadistic tendencies, perhaps?" Jarvis answered, taking Tony completely by surprise.
"Jarvis, is it just me or is your sense of humor getting worse by the day? I may need to do something about it."
"I apologize for the inconvenience, sir."
"Anyway, since this doesn't look like a trap, this obviously wasn't about harming me, so what would they gain from me being here instead of... Damn!" He should've realized it right away. He hurried out of the building and took off instantly. "They didn't want me here in particular, they just wanted me away from home," he told Jarvis as he gained altitude. "Don't know why, yet, but it can't be anything good."
It was only a half an hour's flight back to his waiting jet, but the trip from Eastern Europe to California would take a good fourteen hours. For a passing moment, he actually considered crossing the distance in the suit, it'd be faster - but no, he would avoid spending that long in it if he could. Besides, he hadn't heard about any problems at home yet. Maybe he had guessed wrong.
So, instead of sweating and suffering in his suit, he spent the half-day long return trip slouching half-asleep on a very comfortable couch. These excursions tended to leave him incredibly tired, and it was no wonder. Jet lag from usual business trips was one thing. He was so used to it that it rarely bothered him at all. Flying to the other side of the globe for a few hours' mission and then returning right away was something else entirely.
Somewhere over the vast blue expanse of the Atlantic he was suddenly struck by a sense of foreboding. It came out of nowhere, really. He had no reason to assume it was her they were after, there were many other people and things they could've chosen to target, but still...
"Jarvis, where's Pepper?"
"I'm afraid Miss Potts's current whereabouts are unknown, sir. However, as it's currently Sunday afternoon in California, that is to be expected."
All right, no need to freak out. Jarvis would only know where she was if she was at the mansion or the office. Since it was Sunday, there was no reason for her to be at work, especially when he wasn't there. She was probably at the beach, or jogging, or out meeting friends, or at home watching TV, or whatever. She had no obligation whatsoever to inform him of her comings and goings.
He tried calling her, but she didn't answer.
That didn't mean a thing, either. Might be that she was just avoiding him for some reason. In spite of what had happened at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital a month ago, Pepper still kept her distance, no matter what he did. Neither roses and romantic sweet-talking nor straightforward dirty suggestions had gotten him anywhere. Ah, well. He knew she loved him, she had said so herself. She was just playing hard to get. Sooner or later, she would break. It was inevitable. He sort of enjoyed the game, although he was getting impatient - and right now, a bit worried.
He asked Jarvis about Pepper's whereabouts half a dozen times during the remainder of the flight, but there was no news. He called her a few more times, but got no answer. He also called Rhodey and Happy, who both answered, but neither had seen Pepper since yesterday.
Once he was finally home again, Tony gave the suit a quick once-over - no damage worth mentioning. He climbed upstairs and sat on the sofa, scratching his goatee thoughtfully. It was 3 AM, so Pepper wouldn't be here in a while even if everything was perfectly normal. He could catch a nap. Or then again, maybe not, since he seriously doubted he'd be able to sleep, as tired as he was. He poured himself four fingers of whiskey and returned to his shop to try and distract himself with work.
He woke up at 6.30, with a set of funny red marks on his cheek where it had rested on the keyboard. Pepper usually showed up at 7 AM on workdays. Since yesterday had been Sunday, today was Monday, so he wouldn't need to wait much longer.
Unreasonably nervous, Tony made his way upstairs and sat on the sofa again. He turned on the TV and stared at the screen, perfectly oblivious to whatever was on.
At 7.30, he picked up his cell phone and called her once more - still no answer.
Pepper was never late. He was seriously starting to get worried here.
It was perfectly normal for House to be late, but Foreman thought two hours was really pushing it.
They were drinking their third cups of coffee, the new team still discussing last week's patients. The case itself hadn't been all that interesting. It was plain to everyone that House had only picked it because of the patients: a rare example of dicephalic parapagus conjoined twins - in layman's terms, Siamese twins with two feet, two hands and two heads.
"I still can't believe how perfectly they coordinated their actions, I mean, one controls the left hand, the other has the right, and still they're able to tie their shoelaces," Kutner said.
"Well, they've had plenty of time to practice, seeing as they've been stuck together for over twenty years," Taub noted.
Thirteen, like Foreman himself, seemed slightly distracted. "Should we be getting worried?" she asked, looking at him.
"Worried? No. Irritated? Definitely. I'll try calling him again," Foreman decided, and dialed House's cell phone for the fourth time that morning. No answer. He tried House's landline phone too, but only reached the annoying answering machine. He shook his head. "If he's avoiding work, at least he could've given us an advance warning so we wouldn't waste our time waiting for him."
"Well, seeing as we're basically getting paid for sitting around and drinking coffee, it's really not that bad," Taub said.
Thirteen ignored him, her attention still on Foreman. "We don't even have a case right now. What're we supposed to do?"
That was a very good question, and one that Foreman couldn't answer on his own. He stood up. "I'll tell you what. We've been waiting long enough. I'm going to talk to Cuddy, tell her House's gone AWOL, and see if she's got a patient for us. In the meantime, do what you want. Go to the cafeteria or something. I'll page you when I've got news."
He didn't go straight to Cuddy's office, but took a detour to stop by at Wilson's. If there was anyone in the hospital who might have a clue about House's latest crazy schemes, it was Wilson.
"No, I haven't seen him today," Wilson replied, frowning. His expression kept growing more concerned as he went on, "Last time I saw him was Saturday night. Now that you mention it, I haven't heard from him since. I'm... Well, you know, I was pretty drunk, but I think he was, too, and he was driving..."
"It doesn't have to mean anything," Foreman said reassuringly. It was House they were talking about, after all. No way he was going to start worrying yet. "I'm sure he'll show up soon enough."
Pepper sighed and shook her head as she watched Tony's jet take off once again. Since it was an Iron Man mission, he had adamantly refused to take her along. It was a typical enough case: he had spotted a group of terrorists carrying a crate with his name on it in the news, and now he was off to some middle-of-nowhere place in Russia to deal with them. It'd take him fourteen hours to reach his target and another fourteen to return, so he'd be away for at least a day. With him gone and her work hours over long ago, she had nothing to do but go home and try to get some sleep.
Typically enough, she couldn't stop thinking about Tony as she drove homewards. She was awfully anxious, like every single time he left on a mission. Tomorrow would be a very long day. She didn't know who she was kidding, trying to keep her distance from him. Definitely not him, since he obviously knew how she felt, and clearly not herself, because her emotions were already those of the superhero's suffering girlfriend. Then again, considering what a nervous wreck his missions already made her, getting into any sort of a real relationship with him would only make things worse. It might be wonderful for a while, but it could only end in tears. Not to mention the media repercussions, and the effects it would have on their working relationship, and so on. She'd be crazy to do that to herself.
Her thoughts were still somewhere far away with Tony when she got out of the car and started walking towards her front gate. Because of that, she only saw the two hooded thugs when they were almost by her sides. When she finally did notice them, it occurred to her that it was often the part of the superhero's girlfriend to get into trouble, so that the hero could save her.
Of course, she wasn't Tony's girlfriend, and she had no intention of getting into trouble.
She dashed towards the gate, knowing full well that the men wouldn't expect such fast action from a girl in a short skirt and high heels. She managed to get the lock open, made it to the yard, ran without bothering to close the gate behind her - and almost crashed into two more cronies, who were waiting for her right in front of the door.
"Potts, you're outnumbered. You can't run from us. Things will be far easier and more pleasant for you if you just cooperate," one of the crooks said in a pleasant, casual voice, with a slight foreign accent she couldn't recognize.
They knew her name. That fact made her panic rise to even greater heights. It was a pretty good clue that they did have something to do with her being Iron Man's personal assistant, and that this was something worse than random assault.
She turned around. It was around 10 PM, the street was empty, and the four thugs had her surrounded. Realizing it was what she should've done right away, she opened her mouth to scream for help. She didn't get out as much as a squeak before one of the men stepped closer and covered her face with a wet rag that had a vaguely sweet chemical smell.
It seemed she was going to play her part, whether she wanted to or not. Tony had better play his, too, she thought, as the world faded to black.
"My condolences," House told Amber, as he handed the dead-drunk Wilson over to her at their door. No sweet, sweet love for those two tonight, that much was for sure.
To his annoyance, the glance she gave him wasn't full of venom, but more of something like pity. A holier-than-thou-look, saying that she found it pathetic that he'd resort to something as childish as this just to get to her.
"Hope you had fun," Amber said, and slammed the door shut.
"Hey, I need to pay for the cab," he shouted, and rapped on the door with his cane, but she was ignoring him. Well, it was worth a try anyway.
He limped back to this car, settled behind the wheel and headed home. He was nowhere near drunk enough that it'd keep him from driving. He couldn't help looking back nervously every now and then, but it wasn't because he was afraid of the police catching him DUI. No, it was something far more interesting than that.
During the last few days, House had constantly had the feeling that someone was tailing him. Someone really skilled, too. He had only noticed them because he was good at spotting tiny details that others missed. Of course, if a patient had come to House explaining that they were being shadowed like this, he'd have labeled them psychotic right away. Still, he knew his mind, and he was pretty sure he wasn't losing it.
There, he saw them: a black car following him discreetly from a distance, headlights off. Who could it be? Another patient he'd pissed off? An over-eager detective? Either of those, it wouldn't even be the first time.
As curious as he was, House figured he'd be better off avoiding whoever it was. He took an unexpected turn to the left, and drove through a series of small, maze-like side streets, taking advantage of his knowledge of the area. Soon, he couldn't see the following car anymore. If they didn't know where he lived, he'd have lost them by now.
Maybe he was drunk and paranoid, but once he'd stopped the car as near to the door as possible, he took the time to write a note, which he left on the front seat. Just in case.
He got out of the car and eyed the empty street suspiciously. No sign of anything out of the usual. Either he had lost them, or there was no "them", and he was just so out of it that he had imagined the whole thing.
He stepped into the hallway - and that was as far as he got. He never even managed to open the door to his apartment, because they were already waiting for him. He hadn't lost them, they had gotten ahead of him. There were three men, dressed in black, with hoods shadowing their faces. None of them were taller than him, but they were all burlier, and obviously, unlike him, they were stone-sober.
"Doctor House, you will come with us," one of them told him bluntly, in a clearly Eastern-European accent. "Save yourself the trouble and do not resist."
Whatever they were up to, it couldn't be anything good, and House definitely wasn't going to go without a fight. He didn't bother waiting for the bad guys to make the first move. He whacked the nearest one with his cane. He felt it hit, but didn't gain as much as a grunt from the thug. He might as well have attacked one of the walls.
Strong hands gripped his arms, wrenched the cane away from him and forced him to stay still. One of the thugs slapped a cloth over his mouth and nose. He had barely enough time to wonder what they were using - chloroform, desflurane, something exotic he had never even heard of? - before he lost consciousness.
Chapter 2
