revivalproject

Entry tags:

impact

WHO: Anyone in the area!
WHERE: From the Forge to the Hangar, so clear across the whole right side of the map if you're nasty
WHAT: A race, an abrupt end, and the inevitable consequences
WHEN: Once the glitter has settled, mid-Feb
WARNINGS: Some people will probably get hurt, but I have no metric for how gory they're going to be about it. I'll let you know if it happens.
NOTES: I'll put some toplevels just to organize the sequence of events, but if they're in a weird order to you or you want a different one to do your thing and need me to reorganize, let me know. If you just want to put another one, feel free.
For any further plotting discussion of anything going on here, hit up the plotting post.

While the air was no longer swirling with it, the effect of the glitter gathered like a blanket on the ground was like that of freshly packed snow after a storm. It left Tony squinting in the glare of it with the sun revealed clearly in a cloudless sky, only to bounce viciously off of every coated surface. Even through his sunglasses and hand raised to shade his eyes as he peered down the corridor from the grassy edge of the forge toward where he knew the hangar was, Tony could only consider the path for so long before squeezing his eyes shut against the competing oases that the light threw up. It was going to feel a bit like skiing, he thought.

Returning to the site where his pit crew had been gathering throughout the development of the vehicle, he reported, "It's worth a try." The path up to the hangar was almost entirely a wide, straight road, the longest clear area they had to test the power of the speeder. As Tony mounted it experimentally to kick the power on, it flung a new rain of glitter in all directions, leaving anyone gathered doused once more and Tony snickering from the hovering vehicle. "I don't think there's going to be any problems."

It was a heavy, growling thing under the sleek body that Tony had found time to detail with pink and red glittering stars, inspired by the strange storm. Unlike the Iron Man's whispering repulsor power, the speeder purred even at rest, gnawing through the experimental fuel and whining faintly at the effort of holding itself up and in place, like it was straining against a bit. It felt more like a motorcycle that Tony would be familiar with, likely, than the speeder that Poe was expecting, or the sparrow that Cayde had tried to explain, and without having to rely on the repulsors, it could manage far more weight for longer periods than this model of Iron Man. A heavy Exo could easily take a passenger, or a haul of dinnerware, to start cutting down on the travel time around here.

Or Tommy could be given yet another thing to gloat about.

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If that big hit hadn't immediately drained the Iron Man to limping, Tony might have turned tail and made his escape through the nearest hole in the wall at the first syllable of his name that rang through the hangar, before Reeve could see his shadow. As it was, he was already lingering by the carcass of the speeder, helmet in hand and barely able to keep the Iron Man upright, never mind consider dragging the vehicle anywhere. He had to stiffen at the sound instead, then slowly turn his head toward Reeve's approach, jaw set and with a dangerous glint in his eye for being threatened with this authority.

"Redecorating," he offered lightly, or as lightly as he could with the challenging smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. There wasn't a slap or sanction that Reeve could follow with that tone he took, that would take Tony by surprise. He'd had this fight plenty.

Reeve continued his approach, his own jaw set, danger for danger. Because Tony, he truly didn't understand what Reeve was capable of at the moment.

"Redecorating is moving furniture around or hanging paintings. Redecorating is getting rid of a couch you got in college for a one that you actually both rather than picked up off the sidewalk. Or if someone is as mature and prone to causing as stir as you are, Anthony, redecorating is taking your crayons and drawing on mommy's nice clean walls!"

Oh yes, he was angry. Look at this chaos, this damage, this potential of injury. Look at the thing that had crashed!

Reeve's hand came out of his pocket, clenched, and lightning crackled around it, the air getting the slight scent of ozone added to all the other riot of smells.

"This? This is destruction. That I can't see having come from any hands but yours. So I repeat. What. Have. You. Done?"

The wall and floor here definitely experienced a change since Tony had last stood in the hangar, and that was apparently his defence to Reeve's tirade as he gestured meaningfully to the mess. "So, you don't like it," he concluded. Too experimental for Reeve, evidently.

Tony suddenly didn't feel as keen to joke as Reeve brandished a fist at him, making him warily turn more fully toward Reeve with both hands on the helmet. Clearly, what he had done was destruction, so he didn't think there was a great need to answer the question. Instead, he insisted in a familiar tone, "Please, call me Tony. Glad to have made such an impression, it's important to have a strong brand."

Oh, he had no intention of striking the other man. Not with his own fist. What a mess.

"Was there a particular reason you wanted to damage the hangar and, from what it seems like, our fellows as well?"

He kept walking, circling past Tony so he could instead look at the damages. Damn him.

"Or had you not considered that."

That wasn't evident yet to Tony, who stepped back as he tracked Reeve around him to put a little more distance between them. "Gotta be honest, that part of the plan hadn't made it to paper," he admitted, tilting his head like he might be ready to actually admit that the impulsive decisions that had led to this predicament might have deserved more consideration. Instead, he continued, "Listen, it would have been a much bigger show if I knew where it was going. This is not the worst thing that could have happened."

Annoyed at that obvious statement, Reeve let some of the charged magic off, the bolt hitting the hangar floor a few inches in front of Tony. It was easy to do, even with all of the metal encasing the man. He just had that much control over the magic.

"You're right. You could have gotten someone killed. I'm sure it would have been amusing."

Tony didn't know that Reeve could do that, making him flinch in surprise, then immediately resentful that he had. He quickly went from a wide-eyes stare at the new mark on the floor to a narrow glare at Reeve for the threat. "If that's all you're worried about, I'm happy to report that there will be no funeral in the immediate future, so that won't be interrupting your busy schedule," he hissed. "It's probably about time you got back to the office, don't let me keep you."

"I'm worried about the people who could be hurt. I'm worried about you doing things that could get people seriously wounded."

He strides angrily past Tony and toward the wreckage. What an asshole.

"It's so nice to see you so concerned about other people, Tony. Maybe you should leave, seeing as you seem more excited to make messes than anything else."

"Nobody asked you to come out here and fix it," Tony pointed out, following now that he knew what Reeve meant to do with that raised hand. It wasn't any better than being punched, but Tony knew what to expect. "I'm handling it, I've got it under control now, it's over. It's not a mess, it's something that happened, past tense, and what I don't need is you here to tell me all about it. I've got the tapes, I'm good."

"Take your tapes elsewhere, Stark," Reeve snaps, whirling to glare at the man. "Because maybe if you watch them enough you might appreciate the risk you put people at. I understand that you seem to find little value in your own life, but that doesn't mean you get to find little in those around you!"

It's not under control. It's something that Tony did, the damage was done, and it was Reeve that would have to fix what Tony had wrought.

Having Reeve face him again only raised Tony's hackles more, making him stop short as Reeve turned to face him down, glaring back and hoping the extra height of the Iron Man could give him a little cushion from the very immediate reality that Reeve was definitely right, but Tony wasn't going to just let him come onto the scene shouting about it. He didn't need Reeve to tell him that he had fucked up, the evidence was still smouldering.

"I was trying to help, something has to happen around here that isn't at a glacial pace, we're not all on board with your fucking twenty year plan!" he shouted back.

They both know Reeve's right. And as Reeve looks at Tony, he thinks the man knows they both know it. Which is why neither of them are back down. Reeve won't, Tony might not be able to.

"I'm not in charge here. But I'm also not nearly killing someone."

Tony wasn't listening to Reeve finish his point, he was already barking over him, "Then don't come over here and act like I need your permission to do anything, dad! I've got this, you're wasting my time." He might not have been very far along in getting this, but this exchange with Reeve certainly wasn't helping, and what little battery the Iron Man had left was draining by the second.

"You have nothing," Reeve answered, voice cold as he turned away to move to the mess. He was done with Stark. Now he had to pick up the pieces, as he was often used to with men like Tony. People who made toys and tools and weapons without thinking of the repercussions.

"I suppose you made this to find your way into yet another pair of pants. I hope it was worth it."

Reeve looking away again turned out to be less annoying than it was a small mercy, because that had made Tony wince as though he had finally been slapped, lip raised in shock and eyes darting as he searched Reeve's tense retreat for any sign that he hadn't meant 'nothing' like that. Luckily, he didn't have to search anymore as Reeve offered his answers in the accusation.

Not about to argue Reeve out of that assumption now that Tony had finally gotten exactly the kind of reputation that he wanted, apparently, Tony took a breath to insist once again in a more level voice, "Let me fix this." Now that Reeve had his barbs in, maybe he would be more receptive. With one hand freed from the grip around the helmet, Tony placed it lightly over his heart to try for sincerity as he continued, "Give me ten minutes, you won't even know it happened."

Of course he'll know it happened, Tony. Reeve sighs and turns back to look at the man. There was damage here, to a number of things. It won't be that easily cleaned.

"Prove it, then."

But his tone isn't impressed. He doesn't have faith that Tony shall achieve it.

The weight of that challenge was not lost on Tony, making the prideful upturn of his chin at Reeve turning to face him again roll slowly into a downcast sneer, Tony's focus on the speeder and its battered body, leaking fuel. It didn't even make sense to Tony that this run had gone so wrong, not after the control that Cayde had proven to have over the vehicle up until the end. Tony didn't have a good answer for why exactly this disaster had happened, never mind an evident pattern of behaviour to answer for.

His last attempt at getting Reeve to just leave already was a dismissive wave of his hand as he swept by to kneel next to the crash, abandoning the helmet as his side. It wasn't going to be a clean autopsy, parts coming away from the exposed undercarriage quickly in sharp jerks of Iron Man's hands to send them clattering across the hard floor as he discarded what wasn't functional anymore. He was going to have to shed enough dead weight to haul what was left of the speeder back to the forge, and hopefully by then Reeve would be gone long enough to not witness that struggle.

Too bad Tommy was off doing other things, wasn't it? The young man would be more than strong and fast enough to help Tony. As for Reeve, he just shook his head and moved away, intent on going to find and help deal with the other woes Tony's little toy had created. Because he was certain there were other problems.

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