Weapons Dealing

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

When your back was against a wall, it was time to return to basics. That's what Tony Stark told himself, anyway, as he entered the ever-glossy Copper Cafe, looking his sharpest in a dark suit vest, slacks and a goddamn proper haircut.

Was there any reason to look sharp for a raccoon? Probably not, but he was returning to his past life as a weapons manufacturer, here. You always dressed to get the best. Now that he was putting on weight again, he could finally fill a suit vest up. There was a little vanity in there. There was always going to be vanity in there.

And there was the raccoon, right there in the corner. If he ever imagined what a workspace for a trigger-happy bipedal Procyon lotor looked like, what he was seeing would have been it. Clashed with the ingratiatingly happy eatery just a tad. Tony could guess by the way no one having said anything there was probably a pretty good damn reason for it.

Approach. Not too fast, casual-like. Position yourself adjacent, not head on. Glance over. Pause, but not for too long. Attaboy.

"Rocket. Right?" Tony cleared his throat, leaning back against the wall. "Tony Stark. I'm seeking your expertise."

Comments

[st_ripetail]

"Yeah, Rocket." Rocket eyed the newcomer to his occasional workspace briefly, then returned to what he was doing. Fancy-ass son of a something, he'd seen that type before.

Disassembling a little clock and putting all its gears and bits into different divisions of a little pink box for some reason called a 'caboodle' was more interesting. "An' I'm not really doin' the kill for hire shit here. Seems like more trouble than profit, ya know?" Also Quill might get huffy about not getting cut in on the side job or it not being a Guardian thing.

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

"No, I don't outsource that," Tony began, folding his hands in front of himself. "I'm just a humble man looking for some means of, ah, defense. My usual bit is in the shop."

As hard as he was trying not to stare, the paws hard at work were kind of mezmerizing.

"Heard about you and your craft through Thor. I'm a coworker."

[st_ripetail]

Rocket liked Thor. He did. And he didn't have any problem with lying. He had a problem with bad lying. Which was why he turned his head slightly and theatrically sniffed the air in Stark's direction. "Izzat what yer callin' it, 'coworkers'? Me, I got a lot more accurate words which I as a fuckin' gentleman will not use but I'm sure you can guess." Coworkers. Quill and Gamora were more believably coworkers, because Gamora wasn't buying in totally yet. "But hey, I like Thor okay. Have a seat, Pants-on-fire."

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

It took him a moment, but Tony could add "made to blush by a raccoon" on his long list of accomplishments.

'Have I made you proud? Mom? Dad?'

"Coworkers with benefits. Not relevant to this deal." He sat--he had his in, even if he had to get outed to do it. "Matter of payment, first. I'm one of the wealthiest men on earth but that means sweet FA here, so I'm willing to bargain."

[st_ripetail]

"One'a the wealthiest men on Earth? Alla Earth? Wow! I ever need toilet paper or whatever shit - you use paper an' stuff right? not real units? - I will definitely keep that in fuckin' mind." Which meant, of course, Stark's wealth would always mean sweet FA to Rocket. "Anyhoo. Depends what you want. Some shit, can't pay me enough. Other, I might do just for fun. Make an offer."

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

Tony exhaled hard through his nose in a chuckle.

"My bit is nanotech. In an ideal world, so would be this. That fall on the 'for funsies' or 'sell my ass out to space pirates' side of things?"

[st_ripetail]

"Huh." Rocket's ears swiveled forward; they were always dead giveaways if you knew how to read them. Ears and tail, though his tail hadn't grown its end-bit back yet. "I could be interested. Show me whatcher workin' with."

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

Taking a small breath in and out, Tony tapped the arc reactor buried under his layers. His gauntlet quickly converged to envelop his arm, and he offered it for Rocket to observe.

"It's supposed to be a full suit. There's something hinky in the feedback. I can only get so much stable at a time." It was embarrassing to admit, but he was giving himself just a little grace with having not yet properly field tested it before he got swallowed by the hotel.

[st_ripetail]

"Uh-huh. Somethin' bonked it good I'm guessin'." it made sense, if the metal thing in his chest was where it was stored, it wouldn't be that hard to scramble. Not easy or nothing, but not hard. And if they were nanites, they were networked together: you screw up enough of'em the rest would follow suit.

Maybe. Could be. Rocket physically climbed on the table to take Stark's gauntleted arm in his hands. Touch was a big sense for his species, also he wanted to see if he could break off a piece. "Why's it in a metal box in your chest? Not for nothin' but I know humies got vital organs in there same as me."

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

Tony's jaw tightened when Rocket began jostling it, but he kept mum. If it could be damaged by a wild animal, no matter how sentient, he deserved it at that point.

"It's kind of my symbol. Usually brute force isn't an issue, but the Amazing Skull-Boy who waged battle the other week hit it with some non-insignificant electromagnetic force."

[st_ripetail]

"Uh-huh. No, what I mean is, why you makin' it so easy? It's like 'hey everybody! Everything I got's packed in this nice glowing thing smack in the middle'a my gut sac AKA my biggest target zone.' A fighter you ain't." Rocket turned over his hand to investigate the palm. Some kind of firearm there. Pulse blaster? Yeah, maybe. Could be anything, on account of nanites.

Probably wasn't anything on account of low imagination. Pulse blaster. Not important right now though. "Whatever. This the amount you can get stable, one arm?"

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

"Yeah, wow, you are just chock-full of wisdom and insight and I will definitely workshop that." Tony's gauntlet receded and reformed to shape his helmet and face-plate. "The arm's enough to do some damage. I'd rather not rely on it while it's under maintenance."

[st_ripetail]

"So you're controllin' it, what? Electrical impulses? Some psychoactive bullshit?" Rocket pulled his caboodle over with a still-bandaged foot and shoved his hand in to pull out a few pieces. For illustration, not to actually do anything useful with yet. "You want nano, fine. First thing is, what you got's all there is. This place is even more of a primitive shithole than whatever Terra you came from, which I gotta believe's the one I mostly think of when I think of Terra." Which was to say: where Quill came from. "'S a bigass limiting factor."

He started fitting pieces together, occasionally digging for wires or a watch battery. "So if you got a hand an' a face, there's a buncha those nanite bastards doin' nothin'. I can work with those easy, but that'll fuck up your fixes 'less you find a way to replace'em. Other shit's gonna be way easier. I got a rig design for flying I can probably adapt to your gangly ass. Plenty of wire and bits around, I can probably do stuff for concussive force, electricity, microwave shit." Rocket just bet the kid would let him - hell, help him - adapt those shooters of his for other stuff if it'd help somebody else. "Also yeah, for free. This's interestin'."

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

"Considering the brain is basically a bunch of electric impulses suspended in fat...yes." Tony's mask retreated, and he gave his chest a firm pat. "Wasn't looking to mod mine, but nanotech is fluid by nature. What's a little backwards compatibility?" Despite Rocket's claims, he felt confident he could identify the hink in the environmental signaling.

He wasn't looking for more than a few nanotech weapons to play with, but while he had the furball feeling enterprising...

"Shoot to kill, shoot to thrill. Unlike Thor, most of us aren't gods who can shrug off a kiss from a wrecking ball. My gangly ass isn't getting sidelined, at least not for long." He smacked the seat. "Right."

[st_ripetail]

Rocket snorted. "Yeah, you really ain't a fighter, you think 'not a fuckin' tank' is the same's bein' sidelined." He wasn't a tank, after all, and he was probably the biggest badass the Guardians had.

Maybe second-biggest after Gamora. No shame coming second to the other built-to-kill. "You want armor, you fuckin' recalibrate or whatever yours. Ain't nothin' I can build's gonna make you god-tough. Mobility an' firepower, that's my jam."

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

"Whoever thinks that would have packed it up years ago." Tony would cop to being a lover any day of the week, however. "Strongest dude on our team rode into battle in his drawers."

He adjusted his glasses. "Next steps?" Did raccoons shake on anything? They had opposable thumbs...

[st_ripetail]

Rocket shrugged. “‘S your equatin’, I’m just laughin’ at ya about it.” He slipped the little bits, bobs, and watch battery thing onto his own hand and tried a punch to the air. It displaced more air than it should have, with a little whump! noise.

Concussive force proof of concept. Good. “Next steps is I hunt you down when I got somethin’ to test, I guess.”

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

"No force necessary." Given Rocket's obvious violence fetish, it felt needed to clarify. He rose with another gentler pat to the table. Despite the near-constant barrage of insults to every facet of his being, Tony had a hard time feeling dissatisfied with a weapons deal that was as to the point as this. No frills, no extensive contracting, no human rights abuses.

"Actually, if I'm in my room, apply as much force to everything but the workspace and maybe the couch as you want. Saves me the effort."

The room had barely graduated from "vicious contempt" to "maybe tolerable if I'm blacking out" in a month's time.

[st_ripetail]

Force was maybe not necessary, but was always fun. "Eh, I do things right, testing's gonna be violent enough."

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

Another chuckle--what was a decent weapon without a decent stress test?

"Let's roll some goddamn heads." He struck out towards the counter, leaving Rocket to his diligent tinkering. If anything, this was as good as a sign to start stocking up on his protein.