[X] Peter Parker - Perhaps it is time to speak up, after all. Perhaps you can invite him to the company, and then consider whether you'll bring up your observations.
[X] The Garage - The Future
[X] S.H.I.E.L.D. Representative - You just signed a bunch of waivers to keep silent about something that you still aren't quite clear on. Sure, you'd signed tons of these documents before, but what was up with this Yinsen thing? And what was that about having an agent around whenever you left the house?
(Yay, you get a shot at whatever you want to achieve with Peter soon, plus another tech from the garage, plus Coulson shows up!)
XXXXXXXXXX
You knew Happy was waiting outside, ready to drive you back to Malibu, back to familiar places, and safe beds, and the ring of a hammer on a workbench. Whatever you'd hoped to find here among your colleagues and adversaries, you weren't sure if you'd found it. There had been no discussions, no presentations, no drunken debates - the entire affair had scarcely moved past its first act before it was cut short. But perhaps you'd learned
something.
This was not how you'd imagined things, at all. Not even slightly.The last steps to the door seemed lengthier than they were, and you noticed the people looking in your direction. Not judging - but that scarcely made things better.
Reed bore an expression that betrayed his own uncertainty, and you had a fair grasp of why he was feeling so conflicted. He'd seen in you a coward - someone who hid behind his creations and not his convictions, a person who bragged, but did not act. Perhaps he had seen his mirror image in you. And maybe he had even been right - until that
cave. Until the moment you had claimed the necessary evils as your own.
Now he saw you as you were. Foolish, perhaps - but at least not a coward. You braved assassins to rescue a man you scarcely knew, assaulted someone who had all possible advantages, who held your death in the palm of his hand. If not for sheer luck, you would have sacrificed yourself without even thinking twice, to save another. Many things could be said about your split-second decisions - but none could dismiss that they had been made.
A little further along, the caped Doctor smiled at you, and you nodded back at him with something like gratitude, though you were sure he knew what you wanted to say. The man had an air of sophisticated mystery about him, and you rather thought he intended it that way. Who were you to mess with a good thing? You looked away, content to know that you had his approval, though you didn't know why that mattered.
There was others there, other faces, but only one weighed on your mind, one person that you hadn't spoken to yet beyond mere platitudes. If you did not speak now, that would be all - and you knew that would be too hasty. "Can you wait for me for a few minutes, Pepper?" you asked then, your eyes sliding to the last face that was on your mind. "I have something to say - to Peter."
The boy turned as you spoke despite his bandaged ears, and you had a suspicion that he had played up his deafness and hoodwinked the nurse. It seemed to fit in his peculiar pattern, though you brought no attention to it among so many witnesses. This was not the place to get into such things. Peter seemed utterly calm under your gaze, but you could tell that he was tense below that feigned serenity. Like you.
"I suppose that's alright," Pepper said besides you, her worried frown making way for something like compassion. She glanced to the doors. "Five minutes, then. You know how Happy dislikes waiting..."
Five minutes. You had no idea what you could really say in such a short time, such an eternity - you were speechless, and at the same time you had too many things to say. You couldn't bring up your suspicions, of course, and the boy was in truth still a stranger, if not for the brief shared horror of the previous days. Did you have anything to say at all?
Four minutes. Think fast.
"I suppose you'll be heading home without photos," you observed at last, looking at the small bag that Peter held to his chest. It was filled with the remains of the boy's expensive camera, now a pile of parts and broken plastic - certainly a setback for someone of limited means. But you knew what the boy would say before you even offered your help. You had tried before. "...Just let me buy you a new one. Please?"
Peter shook his head. "Nah, don't worry about it. It was a loan from the paper, anyway - I think I can excuse its loss given what happened. Besides, I'm pretty sure the memory card's okay, so I should have pictures." He smiled tiredly. "I can take care of myself."
You nodded, frowning. "Yeah, you keep saying that. I get it. But you saved my life, and that kinda thing is not something I let slide. See, I can only repay you in a few ways - and money is easy. Money is something I have a lot of." You slipped a hand in your pocket, retrieving a little card with your address and number. "And if that's not to your liking… Well, if you don't mind a teeny-tiny detour before you head home, I'd like you to come by the company. I'll pay for your transport and broken equipment, and in exchange you - humor me. How does that sound?" You hesitated. "I've got a little - proposal for you."
That very proposal was still rattling around in your skull, constructing itself as you spoke. You hadn't really thought about offering anything substantial before just now, but you knew you couldn't let the opportunity slide now that it had occurred to you. The company would question things, of course, if you hired an unknown in any sort of official capacity, or paid out a scholarship - but you had the money and control to offer it, and there was no telling if Peter would even accept. You had a feeling it would be worth it, though.
You had done crazier things for worse people.
Asking whether or not Peter was clever enough hadn't been something you'd worried about since you'd seen that piercing stare back in the convention hall, when Pym's plight became clear. You'd recognized understanding in that gaze, a shrewdness that could not be trained or feigned. Judging from Peter's expression in the present, the boy was just as quick on the uptake this time. He had recognized your implication for what it was.
"...Really?" he asked curiously.
"Yes. A kid like you should have options. Think about it, would you?" you offered. "Don't constrain yourself too much with that humility. Just - consider things. That's all I can ask."
Peter was silent for a long moment. "Yeah… I will," he responded at last, nodding confidently. "And thank you, Mr. Stark."
You scoffed as you stepped back towards the doors. "I don't tolerate formality from people who saved my bacon. Call me Tony - but
never Anthony, unless you're my mother. Or Pepper. Eh - same difference, really."
Pepper's huff was audible from clear across the room, and you couldn't help smiling.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Were you serious back there?" Pepper asked more than half an hour later, as you cruised down the highway towards home, the wind whipping through the small slit of the window by your side. You'd almost dozed off for a moment, though your mind had still been as active as ever. A pencil that had been precariously balancing between your fingers almost slipped away.
"...About what?" You wondered, blinking.
"That - reporter. I've never…" She frowned, her troubled expression all too common in the last few days. "I thought you hated kids, Tony? You always skip out on visiting schools, and you're perpetually whining about colleges…"
You raised an eyebrow as you turned to glance at her. "Were you listening in back there? That's bad form, Miss Potts…" You slipped the pencil behind your ear, and smiled. "I don't hate kids, Pepper - I just loathe
ignorance. And you won't believe how much of that goes around in schools, let met tell you... It's why I skipped out on going any further than I did. I'd learned all I could from MIT - all my doctorates are honorary."
"Ignorance, huh?" Pepper grimaced. "And yet you will gladly share a table with a politician."
"Yes, well, one does have to make sacrifices," you said lightly. "An ignorant man in power, I've found, is a malleable target. Nothing is as effective at getting a few good bills passed in my favor than taking advantage of a man's shortsightedness and greed." You shrugged. "But - that was not what you were going for, was it? It's not about the young - or the ignorant. You were wondering about Peter himself."
"Yes." She shook her head. "You call him by his first name - a teen. A penniless one, from what you've told me, who struggles to make ends meet by making photographs. By his own admission, this was probably the poshest place he's ever been - and it's a boring yearly convention that barely gets the news unless something
terrible happens. Like now."
You nodded. "You're absolutely right."
"So… what could you possibly have in common with someone like that?" She cocked her head to the side curiously. "I don't get it. I might've attributed it to the bomb, to that madman with the guns - but I saw you talking with the boy like you'd met him years ago before that. I saw you speak to him like you do with Rhodey. You're - less standoffish than I remember. It's… like you're a different person."
"I was never very standoffish with the women," you reminded her playfully, but she didn't react. You looked away. "Am I different after Afghanistan? Maybe. Maybe I saw my own reflection out there in the desert, and perhaps I didn't much like what I saw. Peter might remind me of other days." You turned back to her. "Or maybe it's something else entirely, and I'm talking out of my ass. It doesn't matter."
She rolled her eyes. "As usual, you're not making much sense."
You smiled. "I know. But as long as it makes sense to
me, that's fine." You nodded to yourself. "I've invited Peter over - if I'm right, he'll be there tomorrow, or the day after. I'll take him to the company, show him around. Give him a sneak peek into my works in progress, so he can take a scoop home. And maybe…" You smiled. "Well, we'll see."
"...I really don't get this."
"I think you will," you murmured as you turned back to the sketch that was propped up on your knee, something you'd been working on since you left. You grasped your pencil again, and got back to sketching dimensions, listing possible materials.
On the paper, a figure took shape, an artificial star as its heart. An image of the future.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Daddy's back from near-death and probable PTSD - again," you said as you clapped twice. The lights blinked on as you descended the stairs. "Jarvis, it's freezing in here. Get me some warmth and a cold beer, would you?" You sniffed at the metal-tinged air, and smiled. "You've finished the next reactor, then? You've been using that newfangled printer again, haven't you?"
"You are correct - and welcome back, sir," Jarvis replied.
"I am - glad that I could be of assistance, however limited, in the events that occurred."
"Yeah - if I died, who would keep you running?" You joked as you strode into your workshop, glancing over the whiteboards on the walls, relics from a time before holographs. They would serve a new purpose, you reasoned, as you pulled out some of the sketches you'd made on your way back. "Pepper's been hounding me to get sleep - so I think I'll make this an all-nighter. I've got ideas aplenty, and a double-duty sick leave to abuse."
Jarvis let out a noise that might well have been a sigh.
"Of course, sir."
Though you had shaken off the tremors of shock that had persisted in the wake of Deadpool's violent attempt on your life, you didn't feel properly safe until you'd returned here, to the garage, with your things around you. It was no different from Afghanistan - just another violent episode in your crazy new life. The whiteboards and holographs, workbenches and hammers, they were the furniture of your real house, a proper sanctum.
This was where you could see the future. Not literally - or not supernaturally, at any rate - but in your own work, in the plans you drew up and the ideas you had. The garage had been where Jarvis had been born, where your first integrated circuit had been soldered together, when your father wasn't using it. That was technically another garage, of course, but the principle was the same. This was where the magic happened.
"Well, what do you reckon I should work on?" you murmured, not really expecting an answer from the AI. You removed your sketches from your pocket, and one by one stuck them onto the whiteboards with little refrigerator magnets. Crude - but it reminded you of the old days, when you'd gotten started. Some of the pictures were of arc reactor parts, of new designs - others were guns, or inspired by them, though turned towards a new purpose. Repulsors, a lost concept that might be reborn - new holographic technology, new computers architecture.
The last picture was still in your pocket, but you weren't sure if it'd been a serious idea. You'd been napping, almost, when it had popped up. You remembered considering the concept in the cave, swept aside by an idea that had turned out to be far from ideal. You'd made a sketch then, too, but it had gone onto the pyre just as much as everything else.
"There is someone at the door, sir."
You glanced up, as you still tended to do out of reflex whenever Jarvis surprised you. "Really? Pepper's still out, isn't she?"
"It is a gentleman in a suit - he is holding up an identification to the camera." One of the screens to your side switched on to an image of the visitor. He seemed a rather stiff fellow in a suit, though he was smiling in a friendly manner. The badge he was showing carried the insignia of a bird in black on white. S.H.I.E.L.D.
Well, you'd expected them to come by at some point - the man you'd met, Hawkeye, had certainly implied it. You weren't really expecting them less than ten minutes after you'd returned to the house, though. Still - there was no sense in keeping the agent waiting, however amusing it would be to watch him squirm.
"Let him in, Jarvis," you said, turning back to your workshop. "Leave the rest to me."
"Sir? Do you wish me to escort the gentleman downstairs?"
"Yeah. I'm not going to adjust my schedule because of an impromptu visit - I'm just going to get to work," you said distractedly as you picked up the half-finished repulsor prototype that had been on your wall for nearly a decade now. A quick puff of breath dislodged a small cloud of toxic-looking yellow dust, the remains of degraded plastics. "...Ugh, this is gonna be a total redo, I think."
Cleaning out and adjusting the repulsor prototype was complicated and intricate enough that you found yourself moving between several different tools, all of which were spread around your basement - some elements required micrometer precision, others were much more fiddly. You switched from sintering some metal together to reorganizing the wires that had decayed, and that took some doing in itself.
It didn't occur to you until almost half an hour later that someone had been at the door.
You looked up, and blinked in surprise at the sight of the suited man from before, sitting not ten feet away from you at the side of the room. He was sipping on a cup of coffee that Jarvis had doubtlessly supplied. "Ah… Hello there," he said awkwardly as he rose, still with that smile that seemed altogether too genuine to be false. He stuck out his hand. "You were - rather busy. Seemed like it'd be a shame to bother you. I'm Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."
"Quite a mouthful indeed," You muttered, bemused, as you ignored his hand. "You know who I am, I would hope. Otherwise, get out of my house you scoundrel." You turned to your bench, and frowned. "Anyway, you're a patient man. More than me, anyway."
"Is it patience to watch the master ply his trade?" Coulson said, raising his eyebrows. "It was enlightening, actually - and your robot brews remarkably superb coffee." He looked to the side, to the wall, and nodded. "You also have intriguing artwork."
There, behind him on a shelf, an unfinished replica model of Captain America's shield was propped up next to some other half-finished products.
"That's not art, though it might as well be," you admitted. "Half a lifetime ago, when I made that thing, I had some wild scheme that I'd recreate the material that the old shield was made of. I figured that it wouldn't be proper without recreating the look, too. I never got close to the real stuff, of course." You looked away. "Maybe I'll get around to it."
The agent nodded. "I would appreciate that. I am a bit of an enthusiast." He coughed. "That is, of course - not why I'm here. Though it's interesting." He turned back to his coffee. "The assassin known as Deadpool isn't a new face. Not where I'm from, anyway. He's been in and out of hiding for years, but he's been keeping a low profile of late."
"...Really now?" you said calmly. "He blew up a convention hall and killed sixteen people. You call that
hiding?"
Coulson shrugged. "Well, every pattern gets broken sometime. My boss has reason to believe that Deadpool was hired to make that scene, since he's so very good at that. Pym was the target, but he was meant to be a message to someone else. His death was to function as a threat, or at the very least a sadistic statement of intent." He nodded to you. "Given your own recent kidnapping, a connection is - likely. Even probable, given some information we have obtained."
You paused. "So you're telling me someone went after Pym to send a message to
me? What, they somehow knew about his little invitation, and they figured - why not shoot the guy to prove a point?" You shook your head. "Why not just kill me right there? Not that I'm particularly fond of that idea, but you gotta admit..."
"That's the question, isn't it? We don't know yet." Coulson leaned back in his chair, sipping at his drink. "Regardless of that, there's only a few ways this kind of thing tends to go from here. One option is to put you in witness protection, but we both know that's not a likely option in your case. Option two is putting more security up, and hoping that it'll be enough to handle whoever comes after you for real. Option three…"
"Yes...?"
"You wouldn't much like option three, I'm afraid," Coulson said mildly. "We're sweeping every network we have access to - and that's pretty much all of them - but we can't catch everything. So you'll have to be ready to evacuate quickly, when we say so. No complaining."
"Hey, who's complaining around here?" You said, arms up in surrender. "If you want to shoot assassins in the face, that's entirely your prerogative. In fact, if you need the guns to do so, I'm sure I can arrange a few. I would like to stay unshot, thank you."
"Good. Then you won't mind cooperating. The Director was worried that you'd, well…" His smile faded. "You have a reputation, suffice to say." The agent grabbed the briefcase by his side, and offered it to you.
"...I don't like to be handed things," you muttered, gesturing to the table. The agent obliged, flipping it open and turning it towards you.
"This is a contract proposal. If you were amenable to reason, I was told to offer certain - incentives to get you to play along. I have an offer from S.H.I.E.L.D. here - to supply the eye in the sky, and in return gain access to the best protection money can't buy. And a whole lot more, of course."
"...You want to be a customer?" You said after a long moment. "Secretive spy organization with archers and crap in service, and you want my toys? Can't you just get them from the army, like everyone seems to these days, whether they pay or not?"
Coulson tapped the briefcase. "No sarcasm. Please, read this first. If the writing seems familiar - that's because it was written by one of our founding members. A certain Howard Stark."
You froze. "What?
Founding member, you said?"
The agent nodded shortly as you read a few loose passages of the contract, the grime on your fingers staining the paper. You'd never really know what your father got up to, beyond running the business. You hadn't pegged him as being the kind of man to start a spy organization. Then again, you had not really known him that much at all.
"...It says here that S.H.I.E.L.D. would have influence on… Yeah. The company." You looked up, eyes narrowed. "See, that's not going to happen. Dad might have included that because he was a founding member or whatever, but I'm not going to let that count. And I expect some info on that, because it's news to me."
"I'm sure that negotiations can be made," Coulson said calmly. "It is only a first draft. Written by monkeys on typewriters, I'm sure."
"Make a better one, and I'll consider it," you replied, closing the suitcase. "I'm working on changing things around here, and in my company - and I can't have you waltzing in here and demanding I change what I'm doing, just because it doesn't fit with whatever your boss wants. Whoever he is. I can protect myself if need be."
Coulson looked skeptical, but nodded. "I will pass that along."
"Good. Now - if you don't mind, I was
working. Seeing as I've spent the last few weeks getting tortured, blown up and generally being assaulted, I could use a break from all this crap." You stood up. "I've got to make up for lost time - and I have got some good ideas. Proprietary ones. That means
get out."
"...Understood," Coulson said as he picked up the contract. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Stark."
You ignored the man's hand again, and felt like he was someone you could tolerate, far more than the guy with bow and arrows. "Same to you, Agent."
As the agent's footsteps faded, you turned back to the whiteboard. The last sketch, the humanoid figure, joined the rest.
XXXXXXXXXX
There's no more playing around - it's time to get serious engineering done.
You can choose four boxes out of the following options, but mind that some are more expensive than just one point, and indentations indicate the technology one step higher is a prerequisite. Any partial investment will be saved to continue the next time.
Options with = have already been acquired, and there is no obligation to pursue all possible paths. More stuff becomes available as you unlock things - reason logically about what you want and what you might need to get it, or do some write-ins / ask me.
Energy:
[=] Arc Reactor Mk1
[=] Arc Reactor Safe Mode
[ ] Arc Mass-Production Design : For most practical purposes, the Mk1 of your Arc Reactor should be sufficiently powerful, and the Mk1 has limited feasibility for running anything really large without some significant enhancements that you're keeping to yourself. The company will still make tons of money, anyway.
[ ] Arc Grenades : The idea of overloading an arc reactor occurred to you before, but the process has not been studied. Given cheaper, mass-producible reactors, and you being the only one that knows how the safeties work on these puppies, this can become a practical weapon.
[ ] Arc Custom Industrial Design : Mass-production is neat, but inherently dangerous due to the portability and ease of use of your reactors, even with their safeties armed. Large, unwieldy versions that work at lower energy densities would be far more long-term reliable, and they would be all but impossible to use for any nefarious purpose. Designed to fail at any tampering, these could really revolutionize clean energy-generation.
[ ][ ] Arc Reactor Mk2 : The Arc Reactor's not perfect - but you have some ideas on how to get it closer to that standard. Using new elements and compounds, you can reach energy densities not even dreamed of with the Mk1, but at the cost of unleashing it in only relatively short bursts. They would be useful for extreme speed boosts or a hell of a one-shot weapon, though.
Weapons:
[ ] Repulsor Mk1 : You've worked on these beauties before, but you'd never had the opportunity before to make them mobile, or even practical. Reactionless drives will get you in the door with every private spaceflight company in the world, and probably with NASA, who have been standoffish in making deals before.
[ ] Rapid-Fire Repulsor : Why stop at simple repulsor-based propulsion? Pointing a rocket exhaust at something is even more destructive than a gun - a proper fast spread of repulsor blasts would knock down anything.
[ ] Beam Repulsor : There is only one weapon that comes to mind when you look at the repulsor, more than any other: a proper badass laser from the Sci-fi movies. Why not make it a reality, if only in effect? Slicing and dicing has never been so cool.
[ ] Mach 1 Speed Boost : You have a need for speed, and repulsors can make that happen. Travelling quickly is fine - but you aren't properly doing that until you blast through that barrier and surf the shockwaves.
[ ][ ] Repulsors Mk2 : The Mk1 repulsors are the first stage of a greater paradigm, and you know how to set the next step. Using the power of a proper arc reactor, you could blast objects to suborbital speed with these puppies - or beyond.
Armor:
[ ] Exoskeleton Mk1 : You've got enough supplies to work on a little project that occurred to you in Afghanistan, though you didn't have time to make it happen, there. With the power of the arc reactor, you could make a suit that makes the wearer exponentially more powerful and bulletproof, improving on military exosuit plans. With your tools, you can skip big and bulky, and go straight to sleek and powerful.
[ ] General Resistance : The primary weaknesses of any computer-driven suit are going to be its electronics, and you'll have to make sure they can't just burn out or freeze over. Resisting electronic shocks and pulses will help you against brute force tactics, and protection against extreme temperatures should help with flying.
[ ] Improved Armor : Double or triple-layer steel is where it's at, until you get something better. You need to switch out your current components with thicker, more powerful plates that can take the brunt of enemy fire without flinching.
[ ] Conventional Weapon Slots : Repulsors aren't nearly enough. You have a small arsenal of weapons your company's developed, and you'll put them to use. Micro-missiles, lasers, flares - it all fits.
[ ][ ] Exoskeleton Mk2 : It's not enough to have a general purpose suit - you've got to specialize. The Mk2 is modular, and that makes it much more malleable than the Mk1. Suitcase-suits, self-assembling suits, underwater, heavy duty, space - let's get on that.
AI:
[ ] AI-controlled UI : In recent years you've done much of your work with the assistance of your personal AI, JARVIS. Making a simpler, mass-production version of that system, even if it lacked the charm and wit of your pal, might improve UIs on a fundamental level, and give the company a major civilian-level boost. Apple and Microsoft, eat your heart out!
[ ] Mobile Platform : Jarvis needs a new body, and you have the creativity to make one. Having your AI buddy around to assist can be a major change, even if his first forms will probably just be surveillance, eyes in the sky.
[ ] Neural Modelling : Who wants to control things with their hands, anyway? Your brain's perfectly capable of doing so, and you know the basics. Let's go teach some computers how to read your mind and sing for daddy. As long as you're breathing, you're fighting.
[ ] Remote Drone : Linking up to an external drone can be handy if you can't be somewhere yourself - even if it's just a simple gun-drone. In the long-term, though, you might be able to control an armor like that, or multiple...
Computer:
[ ] Small Holo Screens : The reason you've never marketed your holographic technology was largely due to the exorbitant price and complicated manufacturing process involved. That was several years ago, though, and another attempt at making an affordable version might be worth the investment.
[ ] Holo Scale Upgrade : To make holos practical, you need to supersize them. As a bonus, you can use the new technology to figure out some stealth capabilities for Jarvis or your armors.
[ ] Holo Cost Reduction : To make holos practical, you need to make them cheaper. As a bonus, you can put the tech into your drones, making them essentially invisible.
[ ] Main Computer Upgrade : Upgrading Jarvis' mainframe will make him more helpful, and besides that any technological feats will be easier with the proper support. If you ever want to get into proper sci-fi-style craziness with computers or AIs, you'll need good computers. REALLY good computers.
Other:
[ ] Write-In (Surprise me…)
Interlude & results are forthcoming after this, then next arc. (Heh. Arc.)
