Bork Lazer

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

Am currently working on it. Had to scrap the post I had planned because I was unsatisfied with it.

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.2.2.1 - first degree and a half}

---

“ Oh?,” Obidiah said, a dangerous playful lilt to his voice. “ And pray tell, what do I earn from this wager?”

“ What do you earn?” Justin scoffed, looking at Obidiah like his head had grown three times in size. “ What do you earn? You earn our shares, you salvage Stark’s Industries reputation in the market, your investors will gain confidence to burn their expenses and you won’t cause a riot when you have to layoff your workforce by the time next quarter. Hell, I’m throwing you a lifeboat on a platter with a cherry on top, Stane.”

Justin’s arm swung from the arm rest like a pendulum. Behind his golden shades laid eyes that glimmered inside with a dozen different barbs, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. He’d practiced well in advance for what he thought the old man would say and consulted with his legal team on the ways the old man could slither out of this.

Carrots ready to lure and sticks to bat away tongues.

However, Justin couldn’t have predicted what Obidiah said next.

“ I appreciate it, Justin, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to say no.”

It was matter of fact, conservational. His offer was treated more like some gossip on a weekend brunch rather than the mother of all financial gift horses given to a failing company. There was no treble in Stane’s voice. His eyes didn’t blink. No bead of sweat on that shiny bald head of his. As far as Justin could tell, Obidiah Stane was completely sane.

Then, why the hell had he slapped away his offer?

“ I thought’d you learn by now that you can’t afford pride in this business, Stane,” Justin ground out, stifling his rage. Obidiah swirled around, head tilted down at Justin’s relaxed poise like a vulture.

“ Business?” Obidiah shook his head slowly. “ Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. No. You see, that’s the difference between you and me, Justin. This game can afford pride. What it can’t afford are small minds such as yours.”

Justin was now feeling smaller and smaller under Obidiah’s hawkish look. He chuckled with false bravado, taking another draught of his smouldering cigar.

“ Whatever, Stane.” Justin flicked the cigar away on the floor and stood up, brushing his coat. “ As soon as you tank the NASDAQ, you’ll be wishing you took my offer. See you when you’re ready to sign the papers.”

He turned around, leaving one last leering sneer towards Stane, before walking away.

“ By the way, Justin…” Obidiah’s I heard about your new project of yours that you’ve been dangling in front of Washington. You’re planning to do a field test with state police to target a certain little…friend of mine.”

Hammer’s hand froze just inches away from the doorknob.

“ How the hell did you - “

“ Call it insider trading. Say, how much have you burnt in RnD trying to perfect that exoskeleton tech? What’s your backup plan if it fails the demo, Justin?”

“ I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Justin replied stiffly.

“ Anyway, rest assured, if all goes well, Justin, I’ll be there to sign those papers you talked about at 24th Worchester Street, Odega.” Obidiah paused and snorted in faux embarassment. “ Oh, I’m sorry. I must have confused your address with your son’s address. Tell me, how is he doing these days?”

The door closed with a bang. Obidiah smirked, looking at the crumpled leather seat which Justin had just occupied. Justin’s cologne still hung around in the air like a thick musk. He’d have to ask Potts to get the cleaners in here. His eyes wandered over towards Justin’s dropped cigar and picked it up between the crook of his middle and index finger. He twirled it around from the burnt ashen end to the gnawed end where Justin’s molars rended it down to mulch.

A twist of his fingers crumbled it to dust.

Checkmate.

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

Nui Awa was a wet, sticky urban hellhole that made Aroxy’s skin crawl asMerry Go Round trudged through the concrete maze, its tracks squishing asphalt and concrete into a smooth expanse. The spastic, metallic groans of the Von Luckner’s The new treads that had been fitted on in the repair bay were a patch job, salvaged from the remnants of wrecked Marsdens and Manticores. Expecting factory-fresh material out in hostile enemy planetary territory was a foolish wish at best. In spite of Takka’s arguments, the reality was that Merry Go Round would only receive a proper repair once the Green Knights pissed away from this system.

Aroxy inhaled the draughts of his ashen cigar before stubbing the end against the chassis. He hammered the hull loudly with his fist two times and the tank slowed to a crawl under the shadow of the hydroelectric dam. It was a block of harsh contours and cast concrete that upholded function over style. The turret axle swindled over to the back end of the tank towards the back of the column. The APCs crowded around the bulk of the Von Luckner, hugging close to it like ducklings whilst the two humanoid mechs towered above them. Aroxy took the radio off his shoulder and switched to his own personal channel for crew comms.

“ Keep calm and hands off the trigger. Last thing we need is a bunch of high-strung gunners, - “ Aroxy paused for a half second before emphasising the next word with venom. “ Takka.”

Aroxy flicked back to platoon comms and barked into the radio. “ This is Steel Rain. We’re keeping weapons cold for now. Advising any infantry units to shack up behind us lest they want to go on medical leave for 3 months.”

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

I finished reading through this a bit and I'm also quite interested in playing around with this setting! Expect a lil something from me as well ^^

Edit: As a Sidenote, has anyone done anything involving Ultron? I didn't notice him being brought up at all in the character sheets but I wanted to check.

@KaiserElectric

No as far as I'm aware. There hasn't been an official submission for Ant Man. I was thinking of somewhat playing with Ultron but I've tossed that into the bin as far as I'm concerned.

For that matter, currently working on an IM post for the next arc but CNY got me deadlocked alongside several other uni things. It's just sitting there waiting for my ass to get on it.

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.2.2.1 - first degree}

---

“ Potts, be a dear and go deliver these documents to Mr Ratzenski. Tell him it concerns our acquisitions in Tehran.”

“ Yes, Mr Stane,” Obidiah watches from his mahogany desk as his secretary promptly exited the office swiftly, hands parted out like a bird ready to take flight. It had been six months since Pepper had been reassigned under him from Tony. The bubbly enthusiasm that had been present when Tony was still around had been replaced by a withdrawn coldness. Obidiah considers for a moment whether she suspects foul play and then dismisses the thought. He likes Pepper.

If he were to kill her, who would bring his cappuccino in on time?

He sorts through his morning copy of the Daily Bugle, his brows furrowed at the various pictures of costumed figures that adorned the headlines. More and more of their ilk were popping up now. It irked him. Such uncontrolled power was merely used for fighting burglars and saving kittens from trees. The ubiquity of the phenomenon had even reached Stark’s RnD. The Vision Project had gone public to massive reception and already, his divisions were hammered with calls from military contractors on potentially outsourcing the tech to the Sokovia Conflict. He ignored the sports section and flipped through the politics section about a certain rare earth issue in South Africa that Stark Industries was briefly mentioned in.

The intercom then buzzed with static.

“ Mr Obidiah, Mr Hammer is here now.”

Obidiah flipped the papers closed and replied back.

“ Send him in now.”

Obidiah soon regretted his words as it only took a few seconds for Justin Hammer to arrive noislily into his room. The business magnate of Hammer Industries pushed open the door. Odious amounts of concealer and hair gel lathered his face until he looked like a wax doll. His fashion style was counterintuitive to what most people would have of a CEO of one of the largest companies in the world. Compared to Obidiah’s power suit, Justin wore a thick collared fleece turtleneck and a set of blue chinos that made Obidiah’s eyes water in horror. Obidiah wondered if the CEO purposely dressed himself like that to annoy him.

“ Obi. Obi. Obi, my man. Thought you’d keel over by now with everything that's happening in Stark,” Justin swaggered in, feet noisly slapping his carpeted floor. He laid back on the chair and saddled his two feet onto Obidiah’s desk. Taking out two cigars, he waved one to Obidiah invitingly. “ Need something to cool your nerves?”

“ Not one to indulge in smoking, I’m afraid,”

“ So, are we still up for that round of golfing on - “

“ Justin, I know you didn’t come all the way from Palo Alto just to have small-talk.” Obidiah leaned forward. “So, talk.”

“ Fine.” Justin crushed the butt of his cigar into an ashtray, taking his feet down from the table and removing his shades. His eyes were the color of grimy copper. “ Stark Industries fell 52 points ever since these terrorist attacks. You’re the anchor on the NASDAQ. Your contracts have been dried up since this Iron Man fella appeared on the streets. Everyone’s betting on you to lose. Like, I hate to point out the obvious but you think you’re going to survive beyond the 2nd quarter?”

Justin still wore the same grin but his eyes glinted coldly. Obidiah merely didn’t respond, processing Justin’s words, before standing up and walking to see the view outside his office, his back to Justin.

“ What exactly are you proposing, Justin? A buyout?”

“ I’m proposing a life buoy for your sinking ship. Make the merger with Hammer and do what Tony never had the guts to do.”

Mechwarrior: Disposable Heroes

As they awaited further orders from Colonel Wayne, the crew of the Merry Go Round mired in their own musings, along with the rest of the camp who were waiting to see what the outcome of the deliberations would be. Allying themselves to a powerful ally like the Aqua Vitae Corporation was bound to have consequences down the line, but they weren’t exactly in a position to be fickle. They were desperate, low on morale and hungry for some inch of victory.

Aroxy only hoped that this wouldn’t mean the downfall of the Green Knights.

When Colonel Wayne called them for assembly, Takka merely yawned, lounging back, as the rest of the crew began dusting themselves off from their weary naps to go be briefed. Aroxy gave the evil eye at Takka, silently demanding an explanation for his lax behavior.

“ Well, you heard what the man said,” Takka began counting on his fingers. “ Infantry. Mechwarriors. Techs. We’re heavy material so - GAH!”

Helma began tugging on his cheek with her index finger, pulling the crew driver. “ Keep complaining, Takka, and I’ll beat your ass until it’s black and blue.”

The briefing ensued and Aroxy couldn’t help but shudder at the task they were assigned. It wasn’t a usual heavy slug fest in open fields where a Von Luckner thrived. It was guerilla warfare in closed, urban locales with hostiles that engaged in tactics that Aroxy despised. All was fair in war, but disguising yourselves as civilians was the worst sort of sin. He’d seen too many soldiers during the Free Worlds Civil War who went to hug a seemingly innocent child only to be turned into red mist a moment later.

“ Shit, why even bring Merry Go Round to this?,” Takka murmured to the rest of the crew. “ Ain’t a shooting gallery. All our turret will be doing is saluting half mast to these limp dick extremists…”

“ Shut up, Takka.” Aroxy whispered before addressing the colonel. “ Colonel, are you sure it’s wise to post Steel Rain to Mission Alpha? Such an urban locale isn’t good tank country and we’re liable to lose valuable war material in the process.”

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.2.1.2 - dead and alive?}

---

STARK INDUSTRIES FILE NO 5.A.4578 - 98

PROJECT FILE: SLIVER CENTURION

CURRENT STATUS: CANCELLED
PROJECT ABSTRACT: Project Sliver Centurion is currently infeasible due to a lack of infrastructure dedicated to miniaturization of current Stark Industries proprietary technologies. Prototype models developed cannot be feasibly scaled down for production purposes and rely on materials that are inadequate for mass manufacture. Currrent power sources cannot reliably sustain operation times for duration required by military and law enforcement personnel.

PROJECT AIMS: To develop personnel exoskeletons that fulfill three primary criteria for broad usage across civilian law enforcement and military applications whilst also satisfying broad roles across each field.

Modularity
Mobility
Mass Production

RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FUTURE PRODUCTION MODEL: N/A

ADDENDUM 18.7.95: Can someone please make this file higher clearance? All of the intern techies keep bombarding me with questions about why we’re stalling development on this and I’m real sick of it. Every greenhorn these days think they’re the next Tony Stark…..

---

The steady sound of fans that had filled Tony’s ears for so long halted. Then, the inside of the server farm filled with an eerie red glow as klaxons started blaring.

“ INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT. ALL SECURITY PERSONNEL REPORT TO SECTION 27-A - “

“Fuck, fuck, fuck - ,” Tony hurriedly drops the palm repulsor, unlatching it from his hand. It bounces off the tiled floor. He can see the inside of the lens smoking away like the spout of a kettle. He stifles his inventor’s instincts, brief musings on using higher-quality silicates to reduce heat issues. There’s no time for that. He has to get out of here before Stark security swarms the area. He looks to where the woman is lying -

Well, where she should have been still lying unconscious. Instead, there was a smashed server rack in place of where her body was. Tony looks around wildly, trying to figure where she went to when the heel in his stomach answers it for him. He tumbles to the ground, gasping for breath. The bottom half of his body is paralyzed in pain. It feels like a cannonball has struck him in the belly.

“ You got lucky, Hogan,” Through the pain, Tony felt a hand roughly grab him by the chin and pull him up. “ But you blew your chance. Should have killed me when you - “

The masked woman paused in the middle of her sentence suddenly. Tony watches her entire body seize up like a deer in headlights. She looks….shocked? The pressure on his chin relaxes and before he can ask her why, laser dots prick across his forehead and her hair. At the other end of the server hall, a quartet of Stark security guards

“ Put your hands up. Both of you right - “

The masked woman tossed something on the ground and grey smoke immediately filled the entire room. In the thick haze, Tony could hear sounds of coughing and wheezing. Lights flickered on and scythed through the fog frantically. Then, the yells started and stopped as soon as they began. The sounds of screams were silenced one by one. The smoke dissipated and Tony saw the masked woman, fist hung by her side and splattered with flecks of blood. The Stark security guards were a comatose pile of limbs and legs, all incoherently groaning in pain.

The masked woman’s head twitched and inclined to the right towards him. Tony gulped as she turned around slowly, her movements ragged with fatigue. She took her silenced pistol out of her holster and aimed it at his face.

“ Come with me or I’ll kill you right now,” The masked woman spoke matter of factly.

Tony gulped. “Any other incentive you can offer?”

He didn’t even know why he asked when he knew the answer already.

---

Being kidnapped by a psychotic masked assassin surprisingly wasn’t the worst moment of Tony Stark’s life, all things considered. The first was waking up from a night in Vegas only to discover himself in a taqueria in New Mexico. The second moment was under a permanent seal of confession between him and Pepper that would never leave the light of day. Sure, none of the prior experiences involved the risk of death but at least it approached some semblance of normalcy.

For the next hour or so, Tony and the masked woman carefully sneaked through a labyrinth of tight air vents and under patrols of guards in the halls of the Houston server farm. The masked woman was liteful beyond compare, dancing through shadows and under laser grids, whilst Tony felt like a kid riding a bicycle for the first time. The masked woman would stop him whenever he would take a step in the wrong direction and proceed to guide him slowly. Tony didn’t even know why the merc was willing to tolerate this much ineptitude from him. Hell, when he nearly set off the laser tripwire in the cafeteria, she looked as though she was tempted to put a bullet into his lap.

When they finally made it half a mile away from the data farm, past the blockade of police cars and SWAT vehicles, Tony collapsed on the ground wheezing. They had both sheltered away behind the alley way of a Waffle House.

“ Why didn’t you kill me back there?”

“ I saw an opportunity…” The masked woman replied carefully “....and one just landed in front of me..”

“ Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a data entry intern - “ The masked woman interrupted Tony, crossing her arms in disbelief.

“ Who masquerades as Tony Stark? What are you doing here in Houston?”

“ Oh, you know.” Tony said lackadaisical. “ Had a mid-life crisis. Thought I’d pivot my career.”

“ By hacking into Stark Industries largest data farm?”

“ A big pivot,” Tony shrugged before answering back. “ So, here we are still talking. Let’s cut to the chase. You want something from me, don’t you?”

“ It’s not what I want from you, Tony,” The masked woman leaned down, staring at him inquisitively. “ It’s who you’ve been pretending to be….Iron Man.”

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.2.1.2 - dead or alive?}

---

“ Look. I’m just asking you to have an ounce of introspection - “

“ And I do. I’m an introspecting individual, or in the process of it - “

“ Do you seriously not believe you have responsibility for the deaths your weapons cause?”
“ First of all, the technical term isn’t weapons. Obi calls them “ applied military technology” and before you give me that look, I put the legwork in the RnD and give the scraps to the design group. They’re the ones who point it at - “

“ Is that seriously your defense?”

“ Look, all I’m saying is that I make the tools. A hammer doesn’t kill people.”

“ But a hammer wasn’t originally designed to kill people.”

“Look, how do you think we get funding for our other sectors? Military contracts. Look at our biotech divisions, telecommunications, software, that’s only possible with the money we make from - “

“ Killing people to save people. Does that equation balance it all out? ”

“ It’s our history. My father’s history - “

“ The futurist who's also a stickler for tradition. That’s a joke if I ever saw one.”

“ Can’t beat that tongue of yours.”

“ Oh, you can beat me in other ways…..”

---

During the fifth day of his entry level position in the Stark Industries Nevada Server Farm Facility, Tony had finally figured out how to hack into clearance. Sure, it took a little bribery, 24 hours of bypassing his own outdated encryption firmware he made in his twenties and elbow grease but the location was still the same. If he had access to his now-destroyed supercomputer with terabytes of processing power.

He could have bulldozed through the facility with the Model 1 like a bull in a china shop. But hardware was hardware and servers were especially delicate hardware. With all of that in mind, the firmware and server banks required to house and contain an V.I was a glass chandelier. As far as he could tell, JARVIS’s primary neural matrix was in cold storage. JARVIS wasn’t a true A.I. He had over-ride functions, commands built within him to prevent him from becoming a crappy 90s cliche. However, one of those commands was to stay locked within deep storage in the eventuality of his death.

Tony breathed out fog in the depths of the cold facility, liquid nitrogen running through the walls to cool down all the immense heat produced by dozens of server banks working non-stop 24/7. A Stark technician was meant to come down here in a HEPA-registered custom built isothermal suit that kept them from dying of hypothermia. All Tony had was ten layers of T-shirts, a wool parka he got from a 5 dollar thrift shop and cooking mitts to keep his hands warm. His testicles felt like two ice cubes as he shivered, trying to locate the exact server port for him to access.

“ 25-A, 6-B, ah, there we go!,” Tony unscrewed the plastic seal of the server rack, gently setting it down so that he wouldn’t make any noise. Decoupling a connection cable, he plugged it into his computer and begin uploading his script to break past the hardwalls. The script would send a trail of crumbs for the 22 engineers on standby to prod at curiously whilst he could root around in their orchards like a raccoon in a garbage bin. His eyes flickered through multiple server logs and server pings that were being set off by his relatively messy manner of hacking. The sound of hissing cooling pumps and the electronic hums of server frames kept him company.

So much so that he didn’t even feel the gun barrel pressed against his head.

“ You have 10 seconds to explain what you’re doing in this secure location before I shoot you in the head …..” A woman’s voice spoke softly, cutting through the cold like a thin razor. A glove hand appeared to the left of Tony’s vision and tugged the lanyard out from the front of his chest to behind him. “ ….Mr Hogan.”

“ Lady, I’m just doing maintenance - ,” Tony couldn’t finish his words as a hand forcibly slammed his head against the plexiglass cover of the server.

“ Like I said, what are you doing here?”

“ Sorry.” Tony said groggily, trying to process her words through the pain on his head. “ Still trying to get over that concussion you gave me.”

“ Does this help jog your memory?,” Tony felt something thin against his ankle and before h react, it jabbed him at an angle that made him squeal and flop to the floor like a cut puppet. He was gasping at the agonising pain and watched as a figure floated into view, looking down at him upside down. A curtain of black hair floated down around a gold mask. Cold blue gimlets peered out down at him. “ I’ll ask one more time. What are you doing here?”

“ Well, a little. Is this supposed to be an interrogation or foreplay?”

The masked woman grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up as though he weighed no less than a cat. She then shoved his back roughly against the server frame, making it creak. She then placed the barrel right between his eyes.

“ You say one more quip out of that insufferable mouth of yours and I’ll shoot you in the lap first.”

“ So I'm not a fan of this type of roleplay. Maybe, start with a little bit of teasing -,” Tony croaked out desperately as she loudly cocked the receiver, thumbing the trigger warningly. He raised both of his hands in the air in surrender. “ Alright. Alright! I’ll give you what you want.”

The pressure relented against his eyebrows and Tony sighed in relief. He set his arms down beside his side, shaking them to relieve the tension. He took one slow breath in before speaking.

“ Boo.”

“ That’s it?” The masked woman’s chin tilted up in amusement. “Boo?”

“ That’s right,” Tony smirked as he motioned for her to look down. The eyes underneath the mask widened. Pressed against her belly was his palm. His ring finger twitched and dozens of metal scales began to unfurl out from under the sleeve of his coat. A scalloped glove formed with a large white lens on his palm. There was a low whine of power as energy channeled through a hidden wire conduit between his chest RT and the palm repulsor. The masked woman pulled her arms up to shield her face but it was too late. All the factors were there. Point blank. Element of surprise.
The repulsor discharged and a white lance of pure energy slammed into the masked woman’s gut. Her scream of pain was deafened by the pure heat of the energy emission, air rushing in to fill the vacuum the repulsor left in its burning trail. She was sent flying heads over heels, smashing into the opposite server farm and the one behind it. Shards of silicon and plexiglass littered the floor as she laid twitching, her skin-tight suit burnt to a crisp at the torso.

“ Boo.”

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.2.1.1 - alive or dead?}

---

“ THE STARK LEGACY”

By Ben Urich

“ When asked by Verity Willis of WHIH during the 1985 Stark Expo whether world peace would be possible by the end of the 21st century, Howard Stark replied with his most infamous quote to date:

“ Peace isn’t profitable. Consider that and you’ll have the answer already.”

Born to a shellacker and a stenographer in up-state Manhattan in 1918 during the end of World War 1, Howard’s appetites and ambitions couldn’t be contained, leading to earning a full scholarship to MIT at the age of 15. Becoming a three-time Collier award winner in his undergraduate years and earning dual-PHDs in both electronic and mechanical engineering, Howard Stark was widely considered to be a pioneer of his generation.”

“ World War 2 was widely considered by many to be the catalyst to the formation of Stark Industries. Joining the OSRD in 1941, the network he formed would eventually become the first board of directors for the now famous industrial start-up. After the conclusion of the war in 1945, Stark Industries grew to a multi-million and eventually, a billion dollar empire. The Cold War only served to bolster Stark Industries prominence and close affiliation with the government as a military weapons contractor, earning Howard Stark the nickname “ The Iron Monger…”

…. [CONT ON PG 5]

---

“ Mr….Hogan-”

“ That’s me,” Tony pulled at the collar of his polo shirt tightly. His fingers mussed through his dyed hair worriedly as though his disguise would melt off any second like the Witch in the Wizard of Oz. The chair he was sitting on was uncomfortably inhuman. The plastic laminate seat pressed painfully against his back and he swore that the thin legs were incapable of supporting his weight. It felt as though the chair could fall apart at any moment and was only held together by the power of his belief. The interviewer was a balding, bespectacled man who was in an over-dressed suit and tie that made Tony look like a suburban father with his get-up. The interviewer adjusted his glasses, an unimpressed look at his face, before looking back at his clipboard.

“ What qualifications do you have to succeed in Stark Industries?”

“ I’m applying for a janitorial job, right?” Tony questioned. The interviewer’s face didn’t budge and Tony sighed, clearing his throat, as he went on a diatribe.“ You know, I had to work for everything in my life. I’m a go-getter, a guy who had to pull himself up from the ground to get where I am now. My father never left me with anything. Hell, I never took handouts and you’ll never find a harder worker than me.”

By the time he’d finished, Tony struggled to hold in his laughter. The interviewer had nodded throughout his entire rant, taking down notes, and appeared to even look interested. After a long period of silence, the interviewer spoke again.

“ But what actual qualifications do you have?”

Tony bit his lip nervously before shrugging half-heartedly.

“ I can also code in Java?”

“ You’re hired, Hogan.”

Age of Marvels - A Marvel Comics Roleplay [CLOSED]

THE INDESTRUCTIBLE IRON MAN

_{arc 1: furnace
issue 1.1.1 - vengeance from the grave}

---

A graveyard.

That’s all that remains of the city around him.

He walks around the corpses of hooded mothers cradling the corpses of their children. He walks around young soldiers who died for the mirage of a country they once believed in.

Vietnamese rebels. Haitian protest leaders. Revolutionaries. Slaves.

The faces are all different but they all have the same end.

Being the fuel to his father’s furnace.

A cry like a foghorn splits his ears and he looks to a canyon of crumbling buildings to his left. A colossal hulk of steel and iron eclipses the horizon. Its chest is cracked open, rivulets of metal magma spewing out of it. Its mouth is a churning furnace, grinding and chewing. Its hide is bristling with missile pods, artillery cannons, armaments, the enemy of life. It devours and devours, growing and growing until it's bulk blots out the sun. Its eyes turn towards him. Before he can run away, its maw opens, pulsating with violent red energy that bubbles at the surface. vomits out a baleful light that swallows him with the truth.

“ ONE WORLD, UNDER IRON.”

---

The blanket flies off as Tony rolls off the bed in a stupor. He hugs himself, yearning for the warmth of the RT unit in his chest to warm the cold sweat off his skin. Still shivering, he looks up at the digital clock sitting on the bedrest.

4 hours of sleep.

From a statistical perspective, it was a measurable improvement

---

Frequent trips to DIY and home improvement stores were an unfortunate part of being on the run.
His cart was loaded with every bit of scrap, solder, wiring, batteries he could get his hands on. The first few months shopping in DIY stores felt as though he was a Renaissance artist being forced into finger painting. There was no way he could acquire high quality grade fabricators or machining equipment from a civilian store and accessing Stark Industries high-tech RnD workshops were out of the question without proper clearance procedures. It’d been a year and he could still feel the phantom pain from having to disassemble smoke detectors to salvage enough americium for his first RT unit. Working on a portable nuclear reactor in a minivan with only tin foil for radiation protection wasn’t something that appealed to him.

Besides, it was better for the world to believe he was dead than sacrifice a little subterfuge for comfort. He wasn’t sure who to trust at this point.

As he strolled towards the electronics, tossing a can of WD-40 in his ever-growing cart, Tony could overhear the argument of a child and her father in the background. He slightly turned his head sideways and pulled on his hood to hide his face. The girl’s head was adorned with brown cornrows and her dark-skinned cheeks were puffed out in anger. The father ran a hand through his coarse short-cut brown hair and shook his head.

“ No, you can’t have the hammer, Riri.”

“ But, daddy, I wanna play with the hammer!,” Riri pouted, stamping her feet on the ground in frustration. “ I need it to build my magic tree house.”

“ C’mon, Riri,” Her father crouched down, scratching his chin in deep thought, before snapping his fingers in enthusiasm. He stuck out his hand to Riri. “ How about I teach you how to use the hammer and we can build that tree house together.”

Riri’s eyes were narrowed, looking at her suspiciously before slowly gripping his hand, hers comically undersized in comparison to his.

“ Okay but I get to decide on the paint job.”

Tony watched from afar with bitter longing as the father then hoisted Riri onto his back. Riri, patted his father’s head like a drum and proceeded to point in front of her as if to direct her. He tapped his fingers on the handle of his shopping cart mindlessly and decided to move on. If he stared at them all day, the father might notice and call security on a certain coded billionaire hobo who looked to be in charge of a child trafficking ring.

As he walked to the checkout counters, he ignored the strange looks everyone gave him as he lined up with his shopping cart, the massive weight just enough for their design specifications to handle. He gave a cheeky smile of apology at the employee manning the checkout who looked as though he wanted to give a world weary sigh at the dilemmas of 24/7 grocery jobs. Maybe, Stane would have more success if he hired every disgruntled individual

“ Home renovations?,” The employee questioned, voice clearly disgruntled. He scanned each and every barcode with the speed of a man who burnt through all of his years of youth looking for job promotions.

“ More like a personal project,” Tony replied back curtly.

The mounted TV in the corner of the stall flickered to WHIH news and Tony reflexively looked down at his feet the moment he saw what was on there. There was a picture of his face, one he took for Times Magazine back in 2017 when he first took over the reigns of CEO of Stark Industries. There was a cocksure, arrogant smile on it that only hinted at an unstable egomaniac. It was like looking at a man from another planet.

“ Today marks a year since the mysterious death of former Stark Industries billionaire CEO, Tony Stark. Often noted for his eccentric idiosyncrasies and public controversies, a burnt coastal mansion on Malibu remains a memorial to his unmistakable legacy on America’s tech industry. The investigation into Stark’s death has now been closed by the FBI and the CIA, who have reported that a simple gas accident was the cause of the house fire. However, many, including Tony Stark’s former acquaintance, Colonel James Rhodes, disagree with the CIA’s conclusion.”

The television screen switched to a live interview of his friend and Tony cringed. Shame filled his chest as he saw how disheveled his friend was. His spotless military uniform was unkempt and his beard was untrimmed. His eyes were bloodshot and his calm voice that had been a rock of confidence during hsi most troubled times had wilted just so lightly since Tony’s disappearance.

“ He was my damn friend. I won’t rest until his killer or killers have been brought to justice under a U.S court. It’s plain and simple.”

“ In the middle of Obadiah Stane’s eulogy to Stark, the CEO of Stark Industries was violently attacked by a water bottle thrown by protestors in the crowd claiming to be a part of the radical activist group “ Rising Tide”. The protestors then started flinging spent bullet shells on stage, claiming that Stark Industries has failed to send financial remunerations to families allegedly impacted by their weapons in various overseas conflicts. Their demands include the immediate cessation of U.S government relations with Stark Industries and the formation of an independent commission to investigate Stark Industries for crimes against humanity.”

“ The Starks are mongers of iron. The money they make is lined with the blood of refugees and orphans. We will not rest until the iron is rust!,” The leader, cloaked in a red bandana, held his fist up and the rest followed in a sequential rhythm, mimicking the motion of a wave.

“ RUST! RUST! RUST!”

“ In the midst of all this, Stark Industries remains embroiled in a series of guerilla attacks from the mysterious armored terrorist known as the Iron Man. In a following statement, Stark Industry public representatives denounce the claims as false and ensure the public Stark Industries has a rigorous internal affairs process to mitigate corruption - “

The television cut off just before Tony could laugh. Internal affairs? That was a joke. Stark Industries had no internal affairs. His father was the sole dictator of the entire company and it was by his hand to declare the company corrupt or not. Internal affairs and anti-corruption regulations would slow down ‘the gears of innovation’ as he would call it.

And what did I do about it?

His amusement quickly faded. He paid for his goods in an orderly fashion and pushed the heavy shopping cart out of the entrance. The van was located in a distant corner of the parking lot. It was rust-laden, the paint chipped off. Mold and dust blackened the windows. Looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking, he pressed a button on the car key and the back of the van slowly folded open. He’d converted the inside into a makeshift workshop. A bench was mounted on the side and the Model 1 was placed on a makeshift stand, standing ready for deployment at a notice. Numerous tool cabinets had been welded together in a grotesque monstrosity that only a mind like his could navigate. Closing the backdoor, he separated and stored the goods into their respective sections whilst peeking over his shoulder for any signs of suspicious activity outside. Tailgaters, mysterious men in trenchcoats, oddly large groups of people. After the house fire, he couldn’t become complacent again.

Once done, he clapped his hands and the holo-frame projector whirred to life. Crafting it out of a cinema projector and a bluetooth speaker was an experiment in agony and it sure didn’t measure up to his old one at home but it was functional.

“ Show the nearest route to Stark Nevada Cloud Facility,” Tony said. The blue light morphed into a topographical map of Texas, constantly shrinking in scale until he saw a spherical domed facility. A bush of chain link fences and concrete walls surrounded it. It was by far the most guarded data server bank in Stark Industries and for good reason.

It was where they were keeping JARVIS.