[X] Henry 'Hank' Pym : You haven't seen him yet, but Henry was the one who gave you an invitation, so it's probably nice to go and have a word in thanks. As an expert in miniaturization, it's pretty likely that Pym's got a lot to offer when it comes to small-scale applications of your technologies, ideal for mobile use. (+ 1 Advance Warning! Contact info.)
[X] The Reporter : The reporter is still hanging around, and he's probably aiming to ask for permission to use the photo he made of your little fight with Richards - a rookie mistake for someone from the paparazzi. Although you're doubtful the reporter would have much to add as far as technology went, having an in with the media that's not a total shill might be worth a lot. (+ 1 Advance Warning! Contact info.)
(This combo is actually pretty good, since you got a double whammy of bad omens.)
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"I see what you meant about him being overbearing," Pepper commented wryly after Reed finally wandered off with his girlfriend - or was she his wife? "I take it that you two have a - history, then. I could barely get in a word edgewise..."
You sighed, rubbing your forehead tiredly. "Let's seriously not get into that," you said shortly. "With that odious nonsense out of the way, maybe I can get a drink around here." You pretended to study the people around you for a moment, and grinned. "So, I can see that you're impatient, maybe a bit miffed with me. Planning on ditching me for better company?"
"Tony!" Pepper protested, coloring. "I was just thinking…" She gestured to the side of the plaza, where a small group of women had gathered together. "I thought I saw Estelle over there, and it's been nearly a year -"
You nodded in surprise, vaguely recalling meeting a woman by that name before, though you had no idea who she'd been with. Judging from Pepper's expression, she wasn't one of your conquests, at least. "I take it you want to have girl talk or whatever?"
She bit her lip nervously.
"I know you promised to look out for me- but I'm not gonna get in trouble in the middle of a fancy gala. I haven't even had a drink yet!" You gestured. "Go for it - I've got people to see, anyway."
Pepper blinked, and then her expression twisted into something all too familiar, and fairly terrifying. It wasn't hard to puzzle out why that was.
"I'm not gonna find that woman - I swear," you added quickly, and though your secretary didn't move an inch, something of the annoyance in her expression subsided."I thought I'd go thank Dr. Pym for the invite, for courtesy's sake - hey, I can do courtesy! Besides, it's not like you care about half the stuff I would talk about, anyway."
Pepper sighed to herself. "...Fine. We'll meet up in a bit," she conceded. "Don't wander off."
"Now, would I ever?"
She just rolled her eyes as she turned away.
In truth, you weren't bothered by Pepper's departure, since you knew she'd be keeping a close eye on you regardless. More than likely, she'd been looking for a reason to force you to socialize - something you tended to be good at, but usually only with people that hadn't really come to know you. She knew the disposition of these people around you as well as you did, and that was troubling. Your interactions with Reed might be fiery and loud, but they were not the dismissive coldness of so many of his colleagues.
It was an uncomfortable realization, especially after your return from Afghanistan, that your work with the military was something people actually used to judge your worth. There were a lot of scientists and engineers at the conference, working in every discipline known to man, but it seemed like a lot of them shared a very similar system of values. By using your talents to design bombs and mines, it was like you'd broken some unspoken rule. Unintentionally (or uncaringly) you'd tainted whatever respect you might have otherwise gotten from many.
You really had to get around to doing something about that.
The uneasy feeling in your gut refused to go away as you considered how much Stark Industries had become an enabling factor for an arms race that showed no signs of stopping. There was no telling how much of the middle-eastern mess was catalyzed by the presence of your gear, and that was no doubt the reason why Reed harped on about it.
The worst thing was, you could see his viewpoint, now, one that you'd largely ignored before. You were still appalled at your own use of Pyre - and your bombs had killed far, far more people. Either you had to accept the losses that came with your creations - or you would have to stop supplying them. Either way, something had to give.
"Deep thoughts, eh?" a young voice inquired from besides you, and you jerked in surprise. The boy was barely any shorter than you were, but his wiry build made him seem rather smaller, and the neatly combed brown hair was doing its best attempt at breaking free of its mold. In the boy's hands, a gleaming camera seemed poised to take a shot at any moment.
"I think everyone around here has those," you replied after a moment, smiling slightly as you recognized the photographer from before. "It is that kind of conference, you know."
The reporter raised an eyebrow. "Really?! I hadn't noticed." He glanced aside curiously, seemingly utterly unimpressed by your identity, which was a small blessing. "So - you were just staring into nothing, then? I suppose that stint in the desert must have addled you properly!"
The statement was made in such an utterly irreverent tone that it shocked a laugh out of you, and judging from the boy's mischievous smile, that was the intent. "Heh. I was just rethinking my life - no biggie," you said after a moment, shaking your head as you. "You're direct, even for the paparazzi. Sheesh!"
"I've heard you're a pretty casual person, so..." the boy said easily, shrugging. "I didn't think you would be here, actually. I spoke to Richards earlier, and he seemed convinced you'd skip out. Said you did that every year."
You scoffed. "Well, the less said about that, the better, I think."
"Well, the Afghanistan thing made me think he was right," he added after a while. "The one time you come to one of these boring meeting things, it's when you're fresh out of the hospital?" He raised an eyebrow curiously. "Gotta be a story behind that."
"...I was coerced," you declared. "Anyway, if my doctor reads about this whole shindig in tomorrow's paper, he'd have words with me - so just claim I was passing by, alright?" You narrowed your eyes, gesturing the boy along as you bypassed a small group of fancy-dressed architects. "Tell you what - you seem like the rare breed of newsman that hasn't sold their soul to the devil yet. How about I introduce you to some friends?"
"Really?" The reporter fumbled with his camera for a moment, and smiled warmly. "I would appreciate that, actually!"
"Cool. What paper are you with? The Las Vegas Sun?"
The boy hesitated. "Um, no, actually. I'm here on behalf of the Daily Bugle." He looked away, shifty-eyed. "I still don't know who's paying for all this, honestly." He shook his head in amusement. "I'm under the impression that Jonah forgot which state Vegas was in when he sent me on this trip. I really hope he doesn't dock it from my pay..."
"Wait, you're from New York?" Tony asked, mystified. "Your job has perks, if you can just fly across the country for some boring egghead convention. Not bad!" You smirked mischievously as you mock-whispered: "My job gets me private jets, but it's the thought that counts, right?"
The boy scoffed. "Considering who I work for, I like to think of these little outings as society's way of paying me back."
"He sounds like a piece of work." You studied the boy for a moment, realizing that you had no idea who he actually was. "So… Can I get a name?"
He cocked his head to the side. "Oh! I'm Peter. Peter Parker. Figured the Press pass would give that away, actually." He fumbled with the little white square on his shirt that you hadn't even bothered to read. "I know who you are, obviously. Heard a lot about you."
"Nothing good, I hope?" you inquired, giving a quick wave to some of the people you pass by as you headed towards the door into the main hall, with Peter dogging your every step. "Don't answer that question - I've seen the footage plastered across the television. One of these days the media will get tired of covering all my bad days, I hope..."
Peter snorted. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Ever since the Lizard thing, Jonah's been hounding the same exact topic, and it's been exhausting…"
"The lizard thing?" You repeated curiously. You vaguely remembered reading about some incident in the Big Apple that featured a big lizard, though you hadn't paid much attention at the time. Honestly, you'd been pretty busy, and it had all sounded rather surreal and unbelievable. "What was that about, anyway?"
"Ah - stuff." The boy grimaced momentarily. "There were some disgruntled employees of a genetics company involved, and a few people in costumes - you know, crazy stuff like that. Most of the press just shrugged and moved on when nobody could find details. The Bugle's special, though. It's been all about Spider-man this, Spider-man that. Jameson doesn't really need details - he'll come up with those on his own."
"Ah!" you declared. "Spider-man! Right - I remember seeing that. Some ridiculous guy flinging himself off buildings in his multicolored pajamas, swinging by wires." You nodded sagely. "That's crazy, alright - though I was kinda impressed by the acrobatics I caught on Youtube."
"Yeah…" Peter nodded vaguely, looking away. "I've photographed the guy a bunch of times, beating up muggers and the like - seems like he means well. Besides, the city could use a little color after the last few years - it hasn't always been pretty." He frowned as he looked at his camera. "Hey - not that talking isn't nice, but I should be making some pictures, or I'll never get any cash at all."
You snorted. "Eh, just point anywhere, and odds are you catch at least one person doing something embarrassing. And I could give you my winning smile. How about the classic 'Striding towards the future' stance?" You raised one hand, and stared into the sky. "How do I look? Properly dashing?"
"Sort of pale, actually," Peter opined after a few quick shots. "I can touch that up, though…"
You rubbed your cheeks. "Pale, huh? Well, I am supposed to be in bed," you observed dryly. "When my doctor listed all the things I shouldn't do, I intentionally forgot to listen."
"Anti-authoritarian much?" The boy smiled knowingly.
"Sure. You're, what, sixteen? You should know what that's like," you responded. "When I was your age, unless I was attending some overpriced course at one school or another, I used to sneak out constantly. I had a motorcycle stashed away, and I'd go on lengthy and thoroughly illegal road trips. I was only ever caught once…" You thought back fondly to those days, especially the look on your father's face when he'd found out you'd taken his Harley. "I had this beautiful blonde with me, too - and man, could she kiss."
"Blondes? I can see that," Peter said. "Though I'm a redhead fan as well."
You shrugged. "Who isn't?"
The subsequent fist bump seemed utterly natural.
XXXXXXXXXX
Taking along a reporter turned out be a surprisingly easy way to get attention - you finally ran into some familiar faces when you passed through the doors into the gaudy interior of the hall, including some that could stand speaking to you. Elon had been more than willing to pose for a snapshot or two, and even Pepper got a few glamorous pictures in, even if she seemed utterly confused about Peter's presence, or the sarcastic quips that you exchanged with him.
"I have a feeling that you'll want to keep an eye out for the people in this room," you said as an aside to Peter. "In a few years, these are gonna be the greats - the Nobel prize winners, the faces on television. Aside from Reed, of course. Odds are he'll be working for me." You smirked. "That'd be amusing."
"I suppose you count yourself among the greats?" Peter muttered. "Well, you're not lacking in the ego department, I guess." The boy ducked away with surprising grace as a server passed by with a plate of drinks. You snatched a rather tasty-looking wine from the platter and moved on without even looking back.
You could have said yes to Peter's question - by most metrics, you were highly successful, even if you never got quite the recognition that your father did. Not up until this point, anyway. But whereas dear old dad had gotten rich off the weapons and bombs that had made the company big, moving away from the energy-production business he'd started with, you were heading in the opposite direction. If you were successful in reinvigorating the arc reactor's potential - if you could turn the company around - would the next visit to a conference be different? Would you be seen as a worthy successor, then?
"...Hm. My deep thoughts are being annoying today," you said distractedly. "And I'm not one of the 'greats' - not by my own estimation, anyway. I'm pretty exacting with that kind of thing, so maybe when I figure out how to be responsible, it'll count."
Peter smirked. "That seems like a good plan."
"It's why I'm here, sort of," you said. "I'm working on something big - and I hoped to get some advice from the man who invited me here, Dr. Pym. I've been dabbling in the field of miniaturization, and he is said to be one of the experts." You paused, frowning. "I would probably just bore you with my technical talk, though. Pepper's been my secretary for years and I still catch her nodding off when I'm explaining something complicated."
"Oh, that's fine," Peter said without a hitch. "I've got some engineering experience myself - I could probably keep up for a while." He scratched his chin and sighed. "One of these days, I'll have enough time to actually do half the things I want to, you know? Maybe I'll have to invent a time-machine first..."
"Or you could buy a calendar," you said blandly. "Tends to work for time management."
"Heh. Me, buying things? Do I look like I'm made of money?" Peter rolled his eyes dramatically. "Seriously, though. The last time I had any cash to burn, I was forced to spend it on a sewing kit of all things. I've already gone through most of my savings, and getting new clothes is just…" He shook his head. "The whole functional poverty thing is probably so far out of your world, though..."
You studied the boy for a moment, curious. "Hm, the last time I had money to spend, I might have bought four cars, so you have a point," you admitted ruefully. "So, I'm guessing this whole reporter gig..."
"It's purely for the cash," Peter agreed. "Though I can make a mean picture."
"That explains why you still have a soul, at least," you concluded with a sage-like nod. "Ever thought about applying for a scholarship?"
"Yeah, right. A poor kid from the suburbs who can't keep a steady job except part-time photographer for a screaming jackass of a boss?" Peter asked dubiously. "Don't tell him I said that, or I won't even have that!"
Before you could reply, the missing Dr. Pym finally appeared, stumbling out of a hallway to the side of you with a limp. He was a rather unassuming figure, wearing an off-yellow jacket that had seen better days, and he kept glancing over his shoulder. You stalked over with big steps before he could vanish in the crowd, and Peter followed in your wake.
"Dr. Pym - it's been a long time!"
Pym spun around with a startled look, and stared at you for a long moment with an expression that seemed to border on outright fear. You couldn't help cringing back from those piercing eyes, and even though you managed to stop yourself before it was too overt, Peter noticed. He lowered his camera, forgotten, as his gaze studied Pym and you, far sharper than you could've expected.
The look in Pym's eyes looked terribly much like Yinsen's when he had been moments away from dying, just as you'd pulled him into the safety of the container. The aghast expression vanished beneath a pleased smile soon after, but you'd seen terror, there. You weren't sure what to make of what you'd seen - but it was very bad.
"Ah, it's you, Dr. Stark," the man stated at last, his voice steady. Forcefully so, you suspected.
And did he just call you Doctor Stark? Technically correct, but you were pretty sure your MIT professors would balk at such a description. You had never been very respectful to them. "You know that nobody calls me that," you chided, but you couldn't put much humor into things.
"Call me Hank, then - please," Pym replied, shaking your hand, and you noted he was sweating. His hand trembled even as he pulled it back, and you knew you'd seen right.It wasn't until you noticed the drops of blood on the man's neck, though, that your unease turned into shivers. It could well be due to your recent experience in Afghanistan, but a bad, bad feeling settled under your skin.
You felt a strange prickling sensation skitter across your side, and you took a shuddering breath as you recognized a memory of recent pain. It was the feeling of Pyre on your skin, signaling the creeping terror of impending death - the last time you'd felt that, you'd almost been a goner. You were in no hurry to give creepy skeleton lady from your nightmares what she wanted, though, and forced yourself to ignore it, to talk past that eerie feeling.
"Is everything alright, Hank?" you asked in a whisper, glancing from Peter's frown to the hallway that the Doctor had just come from - there was nobody there, aside from a few guests studying the ugly paintings on the walls. "You look - worse than I feel, actually."
The man seemed to hesitate for a long moment, his smile faltering, and then he shuddered. The false cheer evaporated. "You always were an observant one, Tony." Pym stared at his feet. "It's - I think someone's been toying with me, to be honest. I don't know what else explains…" He looked behind him, shivering, and he touched his neck, smudging the last few drops that were still there. You could see a hair-thin line across his skin, a cut just shallow enough not to be too obvious.
"Someone's after you, then?" you asked immediately, thinking back to the people that had taken you prisoner, killing everyone around just to get to you. The thought of a repeat performance ignited something like rage in the pit of your stomach. "Someone here for you? At the conference?"
Pym nodded slowly, hesitating with his words. "I think so. It's like someone's behind me all the time, sneaking up when I'm not paying attention…" He shook his head haltingly. "I don't know why anyone would be interested in me. Unless it's to - kidnap me or something." He looked at you, grimacing. "That has crossed my mind after I heard what happened to you. But I might just be paranoid."
"Welcome to the club," you muttered, silently considering what to do next. You'd intended to discuss the arc reactor, and you'd brought the old one along as a demonstration article, but it was clear that Pym was in no mood for any of that. You weren't exactly enthused by the realization that your own paranoia was mirrored by someone else's, either. The ghostly fingers of the Pyre still tickled at your side, and they felt like a warning.
"Um, guys?" Peter said slowly as he stepped closer He seemed indecisive about something. "Look - I don't know what you two are whispering about, but I think something's not right…"
Pym faltered at that. "You too?"
Peter shivered, looking over the crowds uncertainly. "Hey, I don't know - it's just a feeling I've got. Something bad's going on. I'm thinking - we should probably get out of here."
Well, that made three votes for instant departure, then. You could almost see the grinning skull of Death as you closed your eyes. This was no time for hesitation, you realized. If these forewarnings weren't ill omens, you didn't know what would be. You were sure that if you did nothing, right now, you were going to die - and probably a lot of other people too.
Time to get to work.
"So, did anyone bring a gun?"
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(Please consider write-ins, since I do offer them for a reason. Don't assume that my options are necessarily good ones in terms of consequences, either. I'm a dick, some of them just make things worse for you...)
Warning 1 : Something's terribly off - it's probably best to warn someone without starting a riot, just in case it's paranoia and nothing more. Choose one
[ ] Reed Richards : Reed's an ass, but he's a smart ass - he's probably knowledgeable about everyone who is present, and would know the ways out. Besides, allies through adversity and all that - you'd read about that stuff.
[ ] Virginia 'Pepper' Potts : Whether or not anything is going down, Pepper was present because of you, and you couldn't very well leave her alone. Getting her out of what could be something bad is probably a great idea, given recent events.
[ ] The Security Detail : There were people with guns that guarded some of the building, probably security guards that have been assigned to keep order. Warning them is probably a great idea, just in case - and perhaps they'll have a weapon you can snag if things get hairy.
[ ] Skip the Warning : You can use the time you would have spent on trying to get a warning out, for something more immediately effective, like making sure that there are ways out for the party-goers, or interrogating Pym to see who is out there. Panicking is just overkill.
[ ] Just Mingle : Just wander around without drawing attention, and see who you bump into that might be helpful. Chances are you'll randomly meet any of the above, but you may run into one or two people that you hadn't considered yet, and who might have different things to offer you, or the situation.
[ ] Write-In
Warning 2 : There might be something dangerous going on behind the scenes. What do you do? Choose one.
[ ] Get Yourself a Weapon : You might be wearing Kevlar under your suit, but you have nothing to fight back with, if anything bad happens. It's probably paranoid, but you'd rather be armed when someone comes knocking. Maybe those guards had something you could use, even if you had to pilfer it from them?
[ ] Ready Your Secret Weapon [Arc Reactor Mk1][Ruthless] : You removed the old arc reactor from your chest, but you still have it with you. You are also the only person who can disable the safety features you just recently installed on it. Given a proper overload, it would make a hell of a localized grenade, should you need something nasty in a pinch. Of course - in a crowded room, it would be a total disaster, so you'd have to keep it for close quarters.
[ ] Evacuate : Get Pym and Peter to safety, and signal Pepper to follow - if the Doctor is being targeted, you might be able to dissuade any attempts on his life by putting him in a safe place. Once the obvious targets are out of sight, you can think about everyone else - panic would just make things worse, and you have no real certainty that your paranoia is justified.
[ ] General Alarm : You've got enough clout to get the organizers to end the conference prematurely, and that would more than likely scare off anyone trying something nasty. If nothing is revealed, your fear of kidnapping would have an obvious explanation, even if it wouldn't really do much for your reputation.
[ ] Set up a Trap [Ruthless] : You might not know where an attacker could come from, but you have enough time to plan for contingencies, and to take anyone with extreme prejudice. Using Pym's information, you might be able to ambush anyone that might come your way.
[ ] Write-in
Bonus Whatif:
A little aside of 'What If' : Pym and Spidey both have advance knowledge of something being wrong, so they give you warning options. You could have gotten an extra tech via Reed, or some mutant & magic rep via the relevant people. If you'd picked no 'warning' characters at all, then the upcoming events would have occurred out of the blue, and there were pretty good odds that people would die. Right now, everyone surviving is still on the table. Good luck picking non-retarded things, yo.
Also, don't count on anyone doing overtly super things here - it's a bit of an open situation for them to bust out the super-skills in front of dozens of witnesses. Don't you wish you had some repulsors, now?
