________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Walter E. Washington Convention Center - Washington D.C., United States of America
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Shoot to Thrill #1.02: Philanthropist
Interaction(s): None
Previously: Very Profitable
“Ladies and gentlemen, Tony Stark has left the building.” The announcer’s words echoed before Stark as he and Stane exited the AUSA24 stage before rejoining Rhodey, Jordan and the other pilots they had brought along. The audience applauded again, prompting Stark’s attention as he turned his eyes back to the stage.
Bolivar Trask of Trask Industries Inc. had taken to the stage while a very large prototype was brought out behind him. Stark studied the automaton, his ears listening to every word as Trask explained his own vision for the mutant problem they were facing.
“The Sentinel Program completely removes the human problem, simply speaking the Sentinel scans a person down to their DNA to determine if they possess the ‘mutant gene’. As more information becomes available about these ‘metahumans’ we will be able to have the Sentinels find a link between them to also discover and register them. All extrahuman individuals would be registered to a database, not unlike a gun owner’s registry and neighborhoods would be informed of mutants living on their streets.”
Trask’s words gave Tony pause. It was a damn good idea, one he wished he had thought of first. War Machine was going to be seen as purely reactive in comparison to Trask’s forward-thinking. A completely proactive countermeasure, no human error and more importantly no human sympathy.
“What are you thinking, my boy?” Stane asked before looking over Tony’s shoulder towards Trask’s presentation. “The purple is a bit garish for my taste, nothing about that design is subtle.”
“We need to get War Machine more proactive, I think we should double our efforts into the AI component of the suits. Between Ivo’s ‘Amazing Android’, the Anti Metahuman Adaptive Zootomic Operation, and now Trask’s Sentinels, I’m worried we’re going to be written off as reactive and ineffective.”
“The military likes the suits, Tony, they don’t want androids or giant robots.”
“Chicks dig giant robots, Big Guy,”
“Tony, you’re spiralling, stay the course and weather the storm. I’ve gotten us this far, trust me, we are the answer they want to the mutant problem.”
“I’m pulling up J.A.R.V.I.S. in the car and we’re going to look at V.I.R.G.I.L. again, I want to make sure everything is ready for our summer camp. Can’t afford to Hammer this up.”
“Tony,” Obediah scolded, “I told you to stop using Hammer’s name as a verb, especially in that connotation.”
“Must have Hammered my mind,” Tony yelled emerging from the Walter E. Washington Convention Center into the throng of waiting reporters. Cameras flashed as microphones were shoved towards the group before Tony stepped away allowing the others to depart unharassed to their vehicles while he soaked in the attention. Ignoring the microphones Tony waved and smiled, blowing kisses over the gathered reporters and spectators.
“Yeah, no, no comment, thanks, bye!” Tony stopped as a head of gold attached to a pair of mile-long legs caught his eyes.
“Send the car around,” He snapped his fingers back towards Stane who rolled his eyes with a subdued groan as Tony spun on his heel, opening his suit jacket and striking a pose for the blue-eyed woman. “Oh and tell Jordan he’s buying drinks for making me endure that awful line,” Stark snarked while he flashed a sneer to Obediah before addressing the reporter with a quick eyebrow, “Hi there, you, I’ll answer.”
" Mr. Stark thank you, any comment on the notion that Project War Machine is just Top Gun for bored billionaires with too much money?" The blonde reporter asked, a slight accent annunciating the nasal consonants of her speech.
Stark peered over his red-lensed sunglasses at the reporter before flashing his perfectly smug man-made smile. His eyes darted down to the ID badge strategically placed between her exposed cleavage. The name next to a more modest photo read 'Ali Anovna'. Hungry blue eyes trailed the perfect hourglass figure before returning an answer.
"I assure you, I'm hardly bored, I have a date tonight with a tall, leggy, blonde, half... is that a Ukrainian accent, Miss Anovna?" He asked, taking a step towards the reporter. Her cheeks flushed slightly.
"It is," She replied, some bashfulness filling her voice as she soaked in the billionaire's blatant advance.
"Cocktails at eleven then, the Waldorf, that’s where I’m staying,” He said, placing a room card inside her ID badge holder. “I'll have Pepper send you over something real nice." Tony replied before he leaned into the microphone, "And secondly if it is Top Gun, then I guarantee you there will be volleyball, it will be sweaty and shirtless and I will be joining in and streaming it for all." He laughed, pushing the sunglasses up before turning towards the luxury supercar awaiting him.
"I am after all a philanthropist!"
Bolivar Trask of Trask Industries Inc. had taken to the stage while a very large prototype was brought out behind him. Stark studied the automaton, his ears listening to every word as Trask explained his own vision for the mutant problem they were facing.
“The Sentinel Program completely removes the human problem, simply speaking the Sentinel scans a person down to their DNA to determine if they possess the ‘mutant gene’. As more information becomes available about these ‘metahumans’ we will be able to have the Sentinels find a link between them to also discover and register them. All extrahuman individuals would be registered to a database, not unlike a gun owner’s registry and neighborhoods would be informed of mutants living on their streets.”
Trask’s words gave Tony pause. It was a damn good idea, one he wished he had thought of first. War Machine was going to be seen as purely reactive in comparison to Trask’s forward-thinking. A completely proactive countermeasure, no human error and more importantly no human sympathy.
“What are you thinking, my boy?” Stane asked before looking over Tony’s shoulder towards Trask’s presentation. “The purple is a bit garish for my taste, nothing about that design is subtle.”
“We need to get War Machine more proactive, I think we should double our efforts into the AI component of the suits. Between Ivo’s ‘Amazing Android’, the Anti Metahuman Adaptive Zootomic Operation, and now Trask’s Sentinels, I’m worried we’re going to be written off as reactive and ineffective.”
“The military likes the suits, Tony, they don’t want androids or giant robots.”
“Chicks dig giant robots, Big Guy,”
“Tony, you’re spiralling, stay the course and weather the storm. I’ve gotten us this far, trust me, we are the answer they want to the mutant problem.”
“I’m pulling up J.A.R.V.I.S. in the car and we’re going to look at V.I.R.G.I.L. again, I want to make sure everything is ready for our summer camp. Can’t afford to Hammer this up.”
“Tony,” Obediah scolded, “I told you to stop using Hammer’s name as a verb, especially in that connotation.”
“Must have Hammered my mind,” Tony yelled emerging from the Walter E. Washington Convention Center into the throng of waiting reporters. Cameras flashed as microphones were shoved towards the group before Tony stepped away allowing the others to depart unharassed to their vehicles while he soaked in the attention. Ignoring the microphones Tony waved and smiled, blowing kisses over the gathered reporters and spectators.
“Yeah, no, no comment, thanks, bye!” Tony stopped as a head of gold attached to a pair of mile-long legs caught his eyes.
“Send the car around,” He snapped his fingers back towards Stane who rolled his eyes with a subdued groan as Tony spun on his heel, opening his suit jacket and striking a pose for the blue-eyed woman. “Oh and tell Jordan he’s buying drinks for making me endure that awful line,” Stark snarked while he flashed a sneer to Obediah before addressing the reporter with a quick eyebrow, “Hi there, you, I’ll answer.”
" Mr. Stark thank you, any comment on the notion that Project War Machine is just Top Gun for bored billionaires with too much money?" The blonde reporter asked, a slight accent annunciating the nasal consonants of her speech.
Stark peered over his red-lensed sunglasses at the reporter before flashing his perfectly smug man-made smile. His eyes darted down to the ID badge strategically placed between her exposed cleavage. The name next to a more modest photo read 'Ali Anovna'. Hungry blue eyes trailed the perfect hourglass figure before returning an answer.
"I assure you, I'm hardly bored, I have a date tonight with a tall, leggy, blonde, half... is that a Ukrainian accent, Miss Anovna?" He asked, taking a step towards the reporter. Her cheeks flushed slightly.
"It is," She replied, some bashfulness filling her voice as she soaked in the billionaire's blatant advance.
"Cocktails at eleven then, the Waldorf, that’s where I’m staying,” He said, placing a room card inside her ID badge holder. “I'll have Pepper send you over something real nice." Tony replied before he leaned into the microphone, "And secondly if it is Top Gun, then I guarantee you there will be volleyball, it will be sweaty and shirtless and I will be joining in and streaming it for all." He laughed, pushing the sunglasses up before turning towards the luxury supercar awaiting him.
"I am after all a philanthropist!"