[for Tony and Pepper] Red Riding Prologue
The date hasn't escaped my notice. Even if I wasn't a New Yorker, born and raised, even if I hadn't picked my way through the rubble of the World Trade Center, today would have some meaning for me, though it's hardly comparable. Nearly getting killed by a friend on a bender isn't exactly on the same scale as flying airplanes into buildings, after all, and just putting them in the same sentence feels cheap. They share an anniversary; that's more or less where the similarities end.
Consequently, what also shares an anniversary, give or take a couple of days, is Tony's sobriety. In AA, they give out these medallions for certain milestones; they're about the size of a poker chip, nothing too conspicuous. I've made one for the occasion from a piece of scrap metal that I shaped, engraved, and painted -- red and blue, with gold detailing -- over a few weeks between working on other projects. It's on the table in front of me, in plain view so I don't forget it whenever Tony decides to grace me with his presence.
It's rare that I actually ask him for help with something, preferring to keep most of my private stuff, well, private, but one of those other projects I've been working on needs a second pair of hands.
See, I've been working on this one thing, on and off, for the better part of a year: a spider-sense that's technologically based, allowing me a facsimile of the power I relied on more than I would've ever realized if I'd never lost it to start.
It's been little more than a series of glorified motion sensors until recently, each one carefully threaded throughout the material of the quote-unquote 'Vespa' suit that I designed with supplies given to me by whatever forces are in charge of the mysterious presents passed out every January. A part of me thinks it's a bribe to keep us all appeased just a little bit longer, but I've long since passed the point where I'm appeased by much of anything this place has to offer. This is a petri dish of a prison -- an experiment. And even if I don't spend my every waking moment clawing at a way out of here, trying to find a way home, I never forget that one single fact. Not since MJ disappeared.
But still, bribe or not -- experiment or not -- the raw materials I received have proven useful. Sure, things would've gone a heck of a lot faster if I'd had better facilities to work with, or had been less distracted with my mess of a personal life, or had listened to my own speech about impossible problems needing time to solve, but as it stands, I've finally got something workable on my hands. Something a bit better than a bunch of glorified heat and motion sensors.
In an effort at recreating the sensation of my old ability, the current network relies on localized pulses that increase in strength depending on the threat -- basically, the bigger the pulse, the more whatever's about to run into me is gonna hurt if I don't get out of the way, fast. To make the whole process a little less subjective, though -- and to make swinging through the trees a heckuva lot easier -- I've got it connected to a HUD in the left eye piece that analyzes the surrounding environment, increasing my spatial awareness up to 100 feet in all directions so that I don't run into anything. I've even managed to repurpose most of my old spider-tracers to work on the new frequency, and though I doubt I'll have much need to track people on an island this size, you never know when technological breadcrumbs'll come in handy.
Provided it all actually works, I'd say I'm kind of a genius. I mean, it's impressive, really, even if it's not perfect. Eventually, I'd like to upgrade the HUD to something more sophisticated, something with more processing ability to analyze a greater variety of threats -- ones that don't just involve what's out there to hit me -- but I'm working with scraps salvaged from a homicidal space station and a limited power source, here, and arc reactors don't grow on trees. Still, it's functioning enough to warrant further testing, which is why I'm in the workshop decked out in full gear, sweating like a pig and waiting for Tony to show up.
Or, well, a boar, I guess. We don't have pigs here, and I like to keep my references apt. It's a thing.
Anyway, sweating like a boar and growing impatient, I've long since pulled off my mask, and am about to ask Jarvis if Tony's even in the mansion, when the guy finally strolls in.
"There you are," I say on a sigh. "I was about to send out a search party."
Consequently, what also shares an anniversary, give or take a couple of days, is Tony's sobriety. In AA, they give out these medallions for certain milestones; they're about the size of a poker chip, nothing too conspicuous. I've made one for the occasion from a piece of scrap metal that I shaped, engraved, and painted -- red and blue, with gold detailing -- over a few weeks between working on other projects. It's on the table in front of me, in plain view so I don't forget it whenever Tony decides to grace me with his presence.
It's rare that I actually ask him for help with something, preferring to keep most of my private stuff, well, private, but one of those other projects I've been working on needs a second pair of hands.
See, I've been working on this one thing, on and off, for the better part of a year: a spider-sense that's technologically based, allowing me a facsimile of the power I relied on more than I would've ever realized if I'd never lost it to start.
It's been little more than a series of glorified motion sensors until recently, each one carefully threaded throughout the material of the quote-unquote 'Vespa' suit that I designed with supplies given to me by whatever forces are in charge of the mysterious presents passed out every January. A part of me thinks it's a bribe to keep us all appeased just a little bit longer, but I've long since passed the point where I'm appeased by much of anything this place has to offer. This is a petri dish of a prison -- an experiment. And even if I don't spend my every waking moment clawing at a way out of here, trying to find a way home, I never forget that one single fact. Not since MJ disappeared.
But still, bribe or not -- experiment or not -- the raw materials I received have proven useful. Sure, things would've gone a heck of a lot faster if I'd had better facilities to work with, or had been less distracted with my mess of a personal life, or had listened to my own speech about impossible problems needing time to solve, but as it stands, I've finally got something workable on my hands. Something a bit better than a bunch of glorified heat and motion sensors.
In an effort at recreating the sensation of my old ability, the current network relies on localized pulses that increase in strength depending on the threat -- basically, the bigger the pulse, the more whatever's about to run into me is gonna hurt if I don't get out of the way, fast. To make the whole process a little less subjective, though -- and to make swinging through the trees a heckuva lot easier -- I've got it connected to a HUD in the left eye piece that analyzes the surrounding environment, increasing my spatial awareness up to 100 feet in all directions so that I don't run into anything. I've even managed to repurpose most of my old spider-tracers to work on the new frequency, and though I doubt I'll have much need to track people on an island this size, you never know when technological breadcrumbs'll come in handy.
Provided it all actually works, I'd say I'm kind of a genius. I mean, it's impressive, really, even if it's not perfect. Eventually, I'd like to upgrade the HUD to something more sophisticated, something with more processing ability to analyze a greater variety of threats -- ones that don't just involve what's out there to hit me -- but I'm working with scraps salvaged from a homicidal space station and a limited power source, here, and arc reactors don't grow on trees. Still, it's functioning enough to warrant further testing, which is why I'm in the workshop decked out in full gear, sweating like a pig and waiting for Tony to show up.
Or, well, a boar, I guess. We don't have pigs here, and I like to keep my references apt. It's a thing.
Anyway, sweating like a boar and growing impatient, I've long since pulled off my mask, and am about to ask Jarvis if Tony's even in the mansion, when the guy finally strolls in.
"There you are," I say on a sigh. "I was about to send out a search party."