Tony Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
in_extremis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2021-05-04 02:28 pm
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2021-05-04 02:28 pm
affairs
WHO: Anyone in or around Stark Industries, and the boss himself
WHERE: The very normal offices of SI, in The City
WHAT: Kind of an SI catchall, come do your business, this can be a mingle. Make a note if you're mingling or actually talking to Tony.
WHEN: Early Super Heroics event
WARNINGS: We abide by the comics code around here! I'll let you know if anything changes. This Tony is 'unaware' of his alcoholism, so tread lightly if that's a concern.
a. Boardroom [Open to anyone who could get on the schedule!]
This was the worst hangover that Tony could remember. Not that he clearly remembered most of them, but this one had to be bad--it had definitely been a long time since he felt so crushingly aware of the weight in his chest, struggling to catch his breath against the indifferent squeeze of the chestplate and around the useless, scarred limits of his lungs. Labouring to sit up left him sweating against the headboard like it was a whole morning jog, hand over the glow of the RT until he remembered how to breathe. The reliable morning cure stirred into his first coffee would fix that bug.
The kitchen was already fragrant with the fresh drip as Tony came shuffling through, ready for him to stare longingly at the filling pot with the waiting bottle of whiskey as he scrolled through the schedule on his phone without really looking at it. Someone had been diligently updating it as the morning ticked on, rearranging early meetings and quietly recording his time as 'R&D' as arranged for all of the times he abruptly left the office out of the sky-high windows. Development, it could be argued, was kind of happening, though the research had been thoroughly covered at this point. When Tony finally had the life-giving cup poured, he topped it with a generous splash of the outrageously expensive rye, then was blearily retrieving a carton of cream to finish it with a dollop, leaving him staring down into the swirl of fading white in the black coffee in bewilderment. He didn't even know he had cream. He watched the colour feather out a moment longer before taking up the mug to gulp carelessly, then the pot as well to bring along with him into the shower. It was about time he made his way to the office.
It was with a paper cup yet that Tony came tearing into the underground parking of the Stark Industries tower, one hand on the wheel and the other juggling his Starbucks and phone as he watched for who to expect on his way through the building. The subtle indicator of the chestplate's power ticked over to a shocking 98%, so he must have had it plugged in at some point last night and couldn't have been making entirely terrible choices. By the time he made it up to the executive suites, he was visibly wired (not the charging kind), impatiently glancing around for the first person he knew he could trust with a quick touch up for these bruises before he let himself into his twenty-minutes-ago meeting.
It was going to be fine. He was the perfectly coiffed and intimidatingly poised face of the company that he was supposed to be as he entered the meeting room with the disarmingly confident grin designed to make someone forget about any tough questions. "My apologies, let me get you a drink." Distracted by how to best duck around the people he knew would engage him in conversation as he made his way up, he had forgotten to check the ever adapting schedule.
b. Cafeteria [Open to employees or visitors!]
"Look out!"
A cat went bolting through the 'tearoom' cafeteria, 24th floor and typically kept muffled quiet behind the clear stretch of glass overlooking the lush botanical lab several stories below, the vines creeping up through the chamber toward the sunlight. The animal galloped silently across the imported carpets and wove deftly around tables and legs, but behind it rushed a much less nimble porter-bot. It upended tables, knocked into people trying to have their break or read through reports over a hot matcha, and stumbled through the deeper pile of the carpet until it was wheeling, thoroughly out of control, into the multi-story sheet of glass. Someone shrieked a warning over the chiming of rolling cutlery, but it wasn't enough to stop the bot from crashing its head into the window. It slumped, with a buzzing groan, to the ground, while a crack crept its way slowly up the glass.
The cat leapt up onto an abandoned seat where a pot of milk had been upended, head tilted slyly as it slowly cleaned a paw. The collar it wore brightened slightly as a cool voice said, "I tried asking nicely."
"They're not designed to be nice," Tony said of the sparking porter-bot as he came to stand over the cat, hands on his hips and frowning. He was out of his jacket by then, sleeves rolled up and knuckles already nicked, but had dutifully exchanged his shoes for slippers as he stepped into the tearoom and the crisis unfolded, despite the croissants now crushed into the carpets.
c. Outside+Presentation Hall [OTA, the doors are wide open]
The eldest of the scientists standing nervously beside their display units throughout the afternoon could have been 11, maybe 12. Most of the work didn't look nearly so juvenile; even the odd volcano experiment was much more than it seemed, and interested parties were solemnly handed protective goggles before they were invited to check the results for themselves. There was plenty of room in the hall and courtyard for the offerings to sprawl, some of them taking advantage of the room with massive tanks of water or winding tracks, most of the students offered the funding to explore their concepts and bring to the Stark Junior Expo unable to complete, or putting the money into more immediate needs. There seemed to be less kids every year. Tony tapped restlessly against his chest as he surveyed the hall from the edge of the stage where he sat, kicking his feet and squinting through his sunglasses out at the sunny yard. He knew most of the people weaving their way through the displays with their tablets, tallying marks for the final awards, but the event organizers tried to invite new faces every year and plenty of them were people Tony hadn't even met yet. Like the gal with the dreadlocks who kept on shooting him shy glances as she rounded an endcap nearest to him, clearly waiting for an introduction and the chance to explain her research on space debris. Or the one that hadn't taken her glasses off all afternoon, either, and had yet to look at her tablet as far as Tony could tell, keeping her face turned away from him as she moved throughout the space so he couldn't quite place her in the manifest.
"Mr. Stark. Hi. Greetings," Dr. Dreadlocks said breathlessly, surprising him out of his contemplation and into smiling warmly.
"Tony, please," he insisted, and missed the nameless judge slipping out of sight and behind the stage.
d. Reception [This is just the wildcard option]
There may be some very noninvasive security recording what you had for dinner last night based on the protein structure of your sweat as you walk through the doors, but the public facing entrance to the Stark Industries building is open, bright and welcoming, all glass and gold with the reassuring sound of a bubbling fountain coming from somewhere out of sight, and fragrant with carefully manicured gardens built into the clean edges. A smiling receptionist is ready to greet you and answer all manner of friendly questions. Much of this hall is open to tourists, some camera flashes already popping nearby, but were you looking for something in particular?
WHERE: The very normal offices of SI, in The City
WHAT: Kind of an SI catchall, come do your business, this can be a mingle. Make a note if you're mingling or actually talking to Tony.
WHEN: Early Super Heroics event
WARNINGS: We abide by the comics code around here! I'll let you know if anything changes. This Tony is 'unaware' of his alcoholism, so tread lightly if that's a concern.
a. Boardroom [Open to anyone who could get on the schedule!]
This was the worst hangover that Tony could remember. Not that he clearly remembered most of them, but this one had to be bad--it had definitely been a long time since he felt so crushingly aware of the weight in his chest, struggling to catch his breath against the indifferent squeeze of the chestplate and around the useless, scarred limits of his lungs. Labouring to sit up left him sweating against the headboard like it was a whole morning jog, hand over the glow of the RT until he remembered how to breathe. The reliable morning cure stirred into his first coffee would fix that bug.
The kitchen was already fragrant with the fresh drip as Tony came shuffling through, ready for him to stare longingly at the filling pot with the waiting bottle of whiskey as he scrolled through the schedule on his phone without really looking at it. Someone had been diligently updating it as the morning ticked on, rearranging early meetings and quietly recording his time as 'R&D' as arranged for all of the times he abruptly left the office out of the sky-high windows. Development, it could be argued, was kind of happening, though the research had been thoroughly covered at this point. When Tony finally had the life-giving cup poured, he topped it with a generous splash of the outrageously expensive rye, then was blearily retrieving a carton of cream to finish it with a dollop, leaving him staring down into the swirl of fading white in the black coffee in bewilderment. He didn't even know he had cream. He watched the colour feather out a moment longer before taking up the mug to gulp carelessly, then the pot as well to bring along with him into the shower. It was about time he made his way to the office.
It was with a paper cup yet that Tony came tearing into the underground parking of the Stark Industries tower, one hand on the wheel and the other juggling his Starbucks and phone as he watched for who to expect on his way through the building. The subtle indicator of the chestplate's power ticked over to a shocking 98%, so he must have had it plugged in at some point last night and couldn't have been making entirely terrible choices. By the time he made it up to the executive suites, he was visibly wired (not the charging kind), impatiently glancing around for the first person he knew he could trust with a quick touch up for these bruises before he let himself into his twenty-minutes-ago meeting.
It was going to be fine. He was the perfectly coiffed and intimidatingly poised face of the company that he was supposed to be as he entered the meeting room with the disarmingly confident grin designed to make someone forget about any tough questions. "My apologies, let me get you a drink." Distracted by how to best duck around the people he knew would engage him in conversation as he made his way up, he had forgotten to check the ever adapting schedule.
b. Cafeteria [Open to employees or visitors!]
"Look out!"
A cat went bolting through the 'tearoom' cafeteria, 24th floor and typically kept muffled quiet behind the clear stretch of glass overlooking the lush botanical lab several stories below, the vines creeping up through the chamber toward the sunlight. The animal galloped silently across the imported carpets and wove deftly around tables and legs, but behind it rushed a much less nimble porter-bot. It upended tables, knocked into people trying to have their break or read through reports over a hot matcha, and stumbled through the deeper pile of the carpet until it was wheeling, thoroughly out of control, into the multi-story sheet of glass. Someone shrieked a warning over the chiming of rolling cutlery, but it wasn't enough to stop the bot from crashing its head into the window. It slumped, with a buzzing groan, to the ground, while a crack crept its way slowly up the glass.
The cat leapt up onto an abandoned seat where a pot of milk had been upended, head tilted slyly as it slowly cleaned a paw. The collar it wore brightened slightly as a cool voice said, "I tried asking nicely."
"They're not designed to be nice," Tony said of the sparking porter-bot as he came to stand over the cat, hands on his hips and frowning. He was out of his jacket by then, sleeves rolled up and knuckles already nicked, but had dutifully exchanged his shoes for slippers as he stepped into the tearoom and the crisis unfolded, despite the croissants now crushed into the carpets.
c. Outside+Presentation Hall [OTA, the doors are wide open]
The eldest of the scientists standing nervously beside their display units throughout the afternoon could have been 11, maybe 12. Most of the work didn't look nearly so juvenile; even the odd volcano experiment was much more than it seemed, and interested parties were solemnly handed protective goggles before they were invited to check the results for themselves. There was plenty of room in the hall and courtyard for the offerings to sprawl, some of them taking advantage of the room with massive tanks of water or winding tracks, most of the students offered the funding to explore their concepts and bring to the Stark Junior Expo unable to complete, or putting the money into more immediate needs. There seemed to be less kids every year. Tony tapped restlessly against his chest as he surveyed the hall from the edge of the stage where he sat, kicking his feet and squinting through his sunglasses out at the sunny yard. He knew most of the people weaving their way through the displays with their tablets, tallying marks for the final awards, but the event organizers tried to invite new faces every year and plenty of them were people Tony hadn't even met yet. Like the gal with the dreadlocks who kept on shooting him shy glances as she rounded an endcap nearest to him, clearly waiting for an introduction and the chance to explain her research on space debris. Or the one that hadn't taken her glasses off all afternoon, either, and had yet to look at her tablet as far as Tony could tell, keeping her face turned away from him as she moved throughout the space so he couldn't quite place her in the manifest.
"Mr. Stark. Hi. Greetings," Dr. Dreadlocks said breathlessly, surprising him out of his contemplation and into smiling warmly.
"Tony, please," he insisted, and missed the nameless judge slipping out of sight and behind the stage.
d. Reception [This is just the wildcard option]
There may be some very noninvasive security recording what you had for dinner last night based on the protein structure of your sweat as you walk through the doors, but the public facing entrance to the Stark Industries building is open, bright and welcoming, all glass and gold with the reassuring sound of a bubbling fountain coming from somewhere out of sight, and fragrant with carefully manicured gardens built into the clean edges. A smiling receptionist is ready to greet you and answer all manner of friendly questions. Much of this hall is open to tourists, some camera flashes already popping nearby, but were you looking for something in particular?
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On the bright side, there was no way traipsing up to the building and sitting stubbornly in the lobby was going to get anyone Tony's attention. Largely, they were lucky if he was even in the building, but that rare instance didn't get the call from reception put through to his office. Most likely, this would have ended with Amanda being kicked out so the doors could be locked for the night, if she was committed enough to this tactic. Fortunately, she was very quickly going to meet Tony anyway.
Unfortunately, he was backhanding the tablet out of her grip first, before falling fully into her lap, only to be jerked away again in another flailing panic of knocking limbs and heads together that he did try to yelp an apology for. He was going straight up again, as though she was the lucky terminus of his bungee cord and he was bouncing back toward the balcony that he had been pitched over, several stories up in the massive, open lobby liberally washed with sunshine through shimmering windows. He didn't drop again, but started to swing, dangling from the thick, white cast that was wound around his ankle that he quickly tried to claw his way out of before realizing he was already a little too high for that to end well. From above, a cackle rang out over the serene bubbling of the fountains throughout the space, quieting the murmur of voices as the people milling around turned their faces up in confusion.
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It was neither a flattering nor particularly feminine sound, but the genuine shock it conveyed was right on the money. Amanda would have jumped except for the having her boss in her lap thing and then the having her boss suddenly out of her lap thing. And then there was the having her boss cracking his head against hers and her teeth clacked together thing.
Her eyes went fuzzy for a second and her ears were ringing but she heard some sort of apology or something and then he was off again like some weird version of Peter Pan into BDSM. She was going to blame any and all of these weird thoughts on the head trauma and try to get on with her life.
When she saw her boss struggling she pushed up from her chair, wobbled just a bit before finding her feet and moved quickly over toward him. "You ok Mr. Stark?"
She was looking for a way to support his weight so he wasn't just dangling there or in danger of falling and hitting his head worse. She knew building security would be on it in a hot minute so she just had to hold the line until the real professionals got there.
"Take it easy, I got ya." She hooked a strong arm around his shoulders and hefted him upwards, using her own back to brace him, she had to mind where the leg was caught, she didn't want that to break anything or cause damage, or uh.. more damage maybe.
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"That's not yours, little girl," the cackling voice called down, and a man came crawling--or, scuttling, more precisely, over the edge of the balcony that Tony had fallen from. He clung easily to the wall with two extra pairs of arms, all of them jointed incorrectly like there were more elbows than should have been distributed among them, and he seemed to hang on the wall effortlessly to stare down at them in the lobby as two of his hands drew the web straining between them back up toward himself.
"This might not be a good time," Tony admitted then.
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Right, like this was a great time to get to know her boss on a first name basis, and even if she could have tried it seemed like someone else had plans. Someone else who had webbed up his foot with whatever it was that was around his ankle anyway.
"Oh, that's gonna gimmie nightmares." She shuddered at the man walking across the walls like that.
"Aw, hell. Look...whoever ya are, could ya reschedule this lil evil doin for later? It's late, almost rush hour, nobody needs this right now." Least of all her, as she was speaking Amanda reached into the small leather sheath on her belt. She might not be a hero but she damn well was an engineer and that meant she had a Leatherman! She pulled out the multitool and palmed it over to Stark while she moved visually between him and... Wall-y.
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"Just doing business here, nothing to worry yourself about," the wall-crawler snarled, eyeing Amanda suspiciously for this intervention. "You're welcome to see yourself out--tch!" The hands hauling at the line suddenly snapped upward, the web a weightless flutter that had his fists snapping up into his own mouth as Tony abruptly fell to the ground.
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And apparently something worked in their favor, because the web whatever snapped and Tony fell. She moved to catch him but she was only able to help ease him down the last part of that fall. "You ok?"
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"Not exactly how I planned today goin'" She flopped to her back and let on a long exhale.
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"Really? I think that went pretty well," he said and started to laugh, a breathless sound that had the bleeding man glaring at him. So it seemed like he was going to be fine. Tony tipped his head onto his shoulder to finally, properly get a look at his rescuer and offered a dazzling grin. "You're not his ride, are you?"
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"Sure seemed like he didn't like you though, Mr... Tony." Amanda caught herself, and hooked her arms around her knees looking at her new boss. She swore he looked like he actually was enjoying the spectacle of all this. "So, you got five minutes?"
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"Coffee sounds good, getting you out of that stuff sounds better. Does it hurt?" First things first, always assess the damages. She didn't know where she remembered that from, but she remembered it. It was important. Check for damage, do repairs then get back in the sky. Huh, where did she know that from?
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"Amanda Holliday, Intern in E & D working on the new roll out for the Hellicarrier retrofitting." She assumed he knew about the program, he at least knew he had interns...he had to know he had an Engineering and Development department right? She had to assume he did. "Lean on me, it'll help."
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He didn't quite take her invitation to lean on her, keeping his distance now that he wasn't dangling from anything, but kept his fingers touched to her shoulder to stay grounded as he hopped along the hall. "I owe you a toy," he acknowledged, using the other hand to fish his phone out of a pocket with some relief that it hadn't been crushed or otherwise abused in the confrontation, already dialing as he continued, "Not a problem, it'll be here before you know it." She didn't really get a say in the matter as Tony led them to a table, phone to his ear and gesturing to the barista who nodded, apparently prepared for what Tony could want.
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She let him brace as he needed to and hobble along to the coffee bar. Nodding as he apparently ordered her a replacement Leatherman. She'd been sad to lose hers but it had bee a sacrifice to save someone, possibly save a life, it seemed a good cause to her. "Thanks for that."
Amanda took a seat at the table where Tony lead them and waited for him to be ready to talk. She didn't want to take up too much of his time.
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"I bike in, so no old jeep to need a new one for." Probably explained the thighs, she was thick in that strong way. But also she was pretty self contained and the idea that he could toss around that kind of flash was impressive yes, but also it could be intimidating she was doing her best to not be intimidated, she hoped. She took her own coffee with a classic two and two.
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