st_arkravinghazelnut | Entries tagged with tony stark

If there was ever a day to have his best face on, it was today. After all, it wasn't every day you had an ice cream date with the eight year old child of your sixteen year old protege. Tony had met Annie through Peter several times before, but they had yet to have a day to themselves. So, ice cream for lunch it was. His dairy-free rule had been violated into oblivion at this point anyway, between Liz's pizza and Thor's attempts at baking.

"Knock knock." Tony rapped his knuckles on the back of Room 212, shifting his weight in his comfortable jeans. "Calling all Annie's."

Blast. Recharge. Blast. Recharge. Blast Set up the fresh targets.

That had been Tony Stark's refrain for the last three days. The first day was dedicated solely to holding it as far from the hotel as humanly possible into the most remote desert location possible. Himself and his new toys, all alone. And the tent. There was no scenario where he wouldn't take that for the ride.

The plasma auto rifle--today's plaything--boasted rapid fire and plasma grenades. With nothing but sand, rock, and dust for miles, Tony was free to let loose. For the bigger blasts, Tony activated his armor--which was up to several minutes of stability at a time. With a sigh, the time limit ran out and he was left in his tank and fatigues bottoms. Adjusting it to the stun setting, he took aim at the few remaining targets.

Destiny was swiftly approaching its apex.

The final Infinity Stone was his.

Every ounce of his sacrifices, his will, and his ideals had built up to this moment. The salvation of the universe was written in stone, with him as its savior. The power surged forth, and Thanos could only behold it.

Suddenly, he was struck down. Lightning. Odinson. Defiant of destiny until the end, all for what? Thanos lifted raised his gauntlet to meet the god head on--

A sickening crunch. A burst of light following the clash of the Infinity Gauntlet against the God of Thunder's newly forged weapon--and the Mad Titan was looking down at Stormbreaker embedded within his chest. Odinson landed before him, and for the first time in his life, Thanos knelt.

Most of Tony's excursions with Liz had been day trips--dawn til dusk at the longest. While Tony Stark was a work horse that had acclimated to a steady diet of caffeine to fuel 72-hour development binges, he was self-aware enough to admit that that wasn't a reasonable expectation to hold everyone to, least of all his teenage research assistant. For a good week, their trips had been on hiatus. Since the attack on the inn that left Tony returning from the absolute brink of death, even while recovering he was far more concerned with her mental state than his physical one.

That was, of course, to say nothing of his own mental state. Barnes' arrival coincided with Rogers', neither of whom Tony ever felt prepared to see. Thor had been his rock throughout the entire latter half of August and rocky start to September, and he felt truly ready to return to routine. Once Liz had assured him she had as well, he pitched the idea of a 3-day-long camping trip for the two of them. Counter-intuitive, but there was a logic: less tight scheduling, familiarity with their surroundings, some glamorously modified tents courtesy of Tony's inevitable road to glamping. Besides that, he had no plans to emphasize strict business. Leisure was just as, if not more important in the wake of everything.

At the Copper Cafe, their usual meeting spot, Tony was up bright and early as the sun peeked out over the distant horizon to illuminate the eatery with its first orange rays. Awaiting Liz's arrival, Tony stocked up on coffee while his backpacking pack sat beside him.

Tony Stark was not a religious man, which would come as a surprise to approximately no one. The offerings of The Temple were for strict documentation purposes in his endeavor to map the hotel to his internal database, but he found himself sticking around for the aesthetics. He was a seasoned traveler, so much so that that novelty of the unique worldly sights had long since worn out. But being trapped in a singular hotel for over a month with nothing but the kitschy aesthetic or woods or desert in any given direction to look at, the dignified sanctity of The Temple wasn't an unwelcome sight.

Tony wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and sought shade in shadows of the interior. Summer, late as it was, was staying out its welcome. He unzipped his loose sweater and cinched it around his waist. Many more days of not operating on a caloric deficit and he hoped he didn't feel the need to carry around another layer wherever he went.

Taking a swig off his water bottle, Tony wandered the common area. The first thing to catch his eye were the Memorials erected. Ever curious, he wandered closer and inspected the plaques--names of people who had "checked out?" Interesting. He leaned in, taking a note of each name via the scanning function of his nanoparticle composite glasses.

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."

"Did you partake? When you were in New York." Tony spoke up from across the infirmary desk, having been mostly occupied with his own journal. "Food, that is. Not wanton mayhem."

True to his cavalier word, Tony had been consistent with his follow ups for part-medical/part-cosmetic/entirely-snoopy visits with Loki, who was still repaying his debts to society. They ended up settling on lunchtime (or breakfast in Tony's case, depending on what he got up to the night before) to do the "procedure" and "enjoy" an "amiable" back and forth. Today had been rather unremarkable--a few jabs, but a lot of quiet time in between.

Maybe it was desensitization to Loki's presence, but Tony's countenance was unremarkable. Vigilant, but passively so. In an odd way, the trickster's focus on his work had a mirroring effect that prompted Tony to focus on his own. None of that excepted some "polite" conversation, however, especially over food. Pleasing Thor had become a priority, whether he wanted to put it that way or not. Consuming genuine sustenance and playing nice with the little brother simultaneously was just efficiently used time.

"C'mon, Caca, help me think." Tony was poised in front of the drawing board he fashioned and positioned adjacent to his newly-repaired window. He prodded the kitten nestled in the hood of his prized hoodie with the end of his eraser as he stared intently at the beginning of the rough sketches on the wide sheet of paper.

Ever since blasting through his wall and taking a very spur-of-the-moment flight that ended in utter failure, Tony had taken a day to himself before leaping headlong into action in quantifying his understanding of the hotel and its machinations. Not only that, but there was more than a little fussing over his cat thrown in there. In all his whirlwind of emotion, he had forgotten about his "responsibility" for a period in leaving Cacafuego potentially exposed to harm, and he felt more than a little guilty.

"The forcefield surrounding the hotel--no more than a kilometer up." He hadn't bothered to take exact measurements the night he had been formally introduced to it. Over a rough sketch of the hotel, he dotted a line above it, leaving room for more precise calculations later. "Shape is...undetermined. Invisible, obviously. The intermolecular interactions are yet to be determined. Neutron scattering the best option for measurement, here, but not currently on the table."

True to his word, Tony Stark made second contact with Liz well into the afternoon, following their first meeting the night before. After the whirlwind of the previous day's arrival, unsuccessful escape attempts, some drunken antics, and an entire five stages of grief regarding his room assignment, Tony had to really get his head in the game for this show he was about to put on.

"Remember the plan?" Tony hovered behind a clothing rack at the gift shop, clad in a souvenir hoodie (that wasn't there to hide his bed head) and an oversized pair of tinted sunglasses (that also weren't there to hide the bags under his eyes) for disguise. Lastly, he was armed with a mug full of coffee with the inn's logo printed on it in bright pink lettering. He motioned at Liz, or as he called her, his "Co-Conspirator for Operation Spider Ambush."

His first official night at the Madonna Hotel was, without a doubt, the worst night of sleep Tony Stark had ever had. Just, the worst. One would think that a lot of wandering, drinking, drunken wandering, pacing, and fruitless flight attempts on top of cutting off his stream of caffeine would have made him sleep come easier, but no. Nothing would make the knowledge that he was sleeping in a literal cave fine. No, not just a literal cave, a room drafted to look like a literal cave that some interior designer thought was a good idea.

And somehow, waking up to face the day in one was even worse.

Tony angrily adjusted his position on the red couch (the only part of the room that was kind of acceptable) to stare at the wall and list off all the things he committed to doing that day because what else was he going to do while he willed himself to get up?

Introduce himself to the guests? No, not on his life. Not today.

Find a job? Still a no on that one, good buddy.

Finally announce his presence to Peter? Shit, he actually committed to that one.

"Ugh." That teeny expression of woe was all Tony could muster as he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Despite how badly he wanted to flake that day of all days, he just knew he couldn't.