Fic: Doissier of a Metal Chested Playboy
Title: Dossier of a Metal Chested Playboy
Characters: Tony Stark/Christine Everheart (Iron Man movieverse)
Rating: PG (for language)
A/N: This actually started life as a profile for a Marvel MovieVerse role-playing game I'm currently in (as Tony, of course) mostly from Tony's POV. There was so much in there that wasn't said that I started expanding it and ended up with this. It takes place probably two or so weeks after the end of the movie
Raw audio of Tony Stark, recorded by Christine Everheart, Vanity Fair
All right, let's get started, Mr. Stark....
Mr. Stark? How formal. As if you had never seen me mostly naked or something like that.
I'm not really happy about this. Can we just we get started with the basics?
The basics? The stuff you give when you're captured? By the way, they really don't respond well to that kind of crap. Just so you know, when you're in a terrorist hostage situation...
Name. Anthony Edward Stark. Unofficial names include 'you asshole', 'prick' and 'oh, baby, yes!'
That was your personal favorite, wasn't it?
-sound of clearing throat-
OK OK untwist your panties.
Born. April 4th, 1965. What? I have no shame about my age. I look great for it. You know that.
Hometown? The world? I was born in Calverton, New York...which is a very small town in the middle of Long Island potato farms...and midway between Brookhaven National Lab and Grumman Aerospace. Dad was doing some contracting work for them at the time. We lived out in East Hampton. I think I still have a house there. I'll have to ask Miss Potts. How sad, really I can't keep track of all my own shit.
Occupation, CEO/President, Stark Industries. Super-Hero. Sex God. Not always in that order. It depends on the day of the week. What is it today? Tuesday? I'm a sex god first on Tuesdays.
Can you please stop with the little cute asides?
Oh but they're so much fun for me.
Height: 5'1010-no, scratch that 6 foot. [Barely audible] OK, OK five ten but I get it back in the suit.
Weight: Two-twenty five. I think. It's all muscle . I'm wiry.
Hair: Dark Brown There's a few greys coming in. I think they make me look 'distinguished', don't you?
Eyes: Hazel. Very sexy, I've been told. By you, if I remember correctly...
Can we please stay on track, Mr. Stark?
You wound me, Miss Brown.
It's Everheart.
Whatever.
Facial hair, a goatee. I look like a scoundrel with it, don't I? I look like I'm just about old enough to steal quarters out of my mommy's purse without it....all right, not really. I just prefer the beard. It's...useful. Enough said.
Health, Tip top. Checked out by the best physicians in the country. I know it breaks your heart that I don't have any STDs. Trust me, when I hooked up with you...isn't that what the cool kids are all saying these days? Short story: I already know if you've got something, and you're not getting anything from me. but a good time. And multiple orgasms. Again something you well know. Stop glaring at me like that. You loved every mind-shattering second.
I'm healthy as a horse-if you don't count the point two ounces of metal shrapnel in my chest that's floating around, waiting to sneak into my heart and kill me. Other than that, fit as a fiddle. You can't keep the ladies happy without stamina. Me? All about making the ladies happy. Again, you should know all about...
-loud sigh-
...WHAT? Editing's going to take all this crap out anyway, why not have a little fun?
Dress. All custom made. You don't really think that I can buy a pair of Diesels off the rack that make me look this good, do you? OK. So I CAN buy a pair of Diesels off the rack and they look this good. Everything else, custom made. Or designer.
And at last, we come to The Suit. Make sure you capitalize that. Everybody wants to know about 'The Suit'. I could make your head spin and turn your eyes into pinwheels with all the technical jargon that must be giving a generation of little gearheads their first boners. In layman's terms...it's not really made of iron, you know. It's a gold-titanium alloy. But 'gold-titanium alloy' sounds like it should be the framework for an iBook, not a mobile, single-person flying suit of armor with the ability to take out tanks, doesn't it?
Oh yeah. I can fly. It rocks. Hardcore.
-something that sounds like a snort can be heard-
FINE, fine. Stop looking at me like that, here's the jargon. The Mark Three is equipped with jet thrusters that propel the wearer-ME--at around Mach 1 level, retro thrusters that assist in flight stabilization, anti-tank ordinance, flare launchers, anti-personnel guns and is run by a custom designed suite of software and communication software packages. It is for the most part bulletproof. The MOST part. I can-and do-get hurt in it. The flight suit I wear underneath is to keep me from getting baked like poissons en papillote in that thing. You like that huh? A little culinary term, white fish in parchment paper. Very classy. It's powered by a miniature version of the arc reactor that used to power the main Stark Industries campus. I never thought that day I shoved that project down Stane's throat, it would end up being technology that keeps me alive.
In the last few weeks, there have been some interesting things that have come out about Mr. Stane. Would you care to comm--
No. Next question.
But Mr. Stark...
No. Seriously. This ends right now if you push that button again.
All right, then. Who is the real Tony Stark? What skills do you have?
Skills? I have many skills.
OK, I know that was cheesy, stop rolling your eyes. I can build a hot rod from the ground up with just the plans? I tune up all my own cars? I “dated” twelve of the thirteen Maxim cover girls for 2006?
And I make a mean spinach and ham omelet. It's the feta cheese. Trust me.
Many people accuse you of being a walking cliché and having an abrasive personality...
My personality? Please, what's not to love? My personality is what makes me who I am. Irreverent, life of the party, arrogant, obnoxious. Yes, I embrace the negative sides. It's good for me. Makes me well rounded and in touch with my Inner Tony.
And your drinking?
What about my drinking? Are you implying I'm a drunk? Look, a few drinks-
There was that well documented instance at the Bellagio where you were thrown out for destroying--
---hey, that indecent at the Bellagio was blown way out of proportion! I like to have a good time. I wasn't aware that was a crime.
I'm not a drunk. I'm not even a raging alkie. People need to learn to lighten up. Besides, you've seen me when I'm drunk. Aren't I a fun guy?
Maybe we should move on...
Oh, time for the next question? Already? Amazing.
So, I ask again, what about the real Tony Stark? Who is he?
What about me? The real Anthony Edward Stark? Patriot? Warmonger? Philanthropist? Merchant of Death? Iron Man? Tortured soul? Pissy little rich boy? What do you want to know?
Frat boy?
No, I wasn't in a frat at MIT. That would have been illegal...I was a minor, after all. Honestly, they all thought I was a freak. I was 11 when I started college. 11. They had shoes older than I was. I got a lot more action in grad school. I could legally hit on high school chicks. And let me tell you, those girls in Boston are wild. ESPECIALLY Southie girls. Almost as wild as Brown girls.
Are you blushing, sweetie? Yeah, you are.
Let's be slightly honest, shall we? I built bombs because I was too short and too rich to join the Army and the Board of Directors at the time would have crapped themselves if the heir apparent went in hock to the US Government for four years. Would I have? Yes. My father would have understood and approved. And let's get something else out there, while we're at it. I don't give a shit what everyone thinks, I did not have some kind of horrible, tortured childhood where Mommy didn't love me and all Daddy cared about was work. I built my first car when I was seven...with Dad at my side beaming. I loved my Dad, and he loved me and my mom. Did he have high expectations for me? Of coursehe did. His son was a fucking genius, he had every right ot push me and he did. In good ways. They made methe man I am today. He didn't screw around, that I know of. But I do know he loved his family and he loved keeping this country safe, for me, for you, for all Americans. So put that 'looking for approval from the old man' bullshit far off to the other side of the paper. Not. When my parents died, that killed me. It really did. I'm not going to get into little anecdotes about them. Those memories belong to me, and I'll share them with whom I chose to, when I chose to do it.
...and your friends? Or, can they really be called friends?
I have great friends. I have Rhodey, you can't ask for a better friend than Rhodey. Saved my ass more times than I can count. Mostly from myself.
Miss Potts? Well...that's a...she works for me. That's all I'm going to say on that matter. Happy's been my driver since just after my parents died. Talk about your ultimate wingman.
It must be a lonely life. Only having the people who work for you to interact with...
No, I don't think its a lonely life I lead. Lots of multi-billionaires make friends with the people in their employ.
Stop looking at me like that. You're pushing it, Brownie.
Just a few of your favorite things, to round out the interview...
This old gag? OK, OK.
Favorite Drink? Wet, strong and preferably with a blonde connected to the glass
Color? Dark
Car? Fast. I can't pick a type, that would be like asking me to pick a favorite kid. You can't do that.
Woman? Loose
Meal? Expensive
Music? Loud
Movie? ...I'm Tony effing Stark. Movies wish they were as good as my life.
I think that's all I require...
Is that it? Are you done with me? Wanna take a romp for old times sake?
No.
Figured.
Characters: Tony Stark/Christine Everheart (Iron Man movieverse)
Rating: PG (for language)
A/N: This actually started life as a profile for a Marvel MovieVerse role-playing game I'm currently in (as Tony, of course) mostly from Tony's POV. There was so much in there that wasn't said that I started expanding it and ended up with this. It takes place probably two or so weeks after the end of the movie
Raw audio of Tony Stark, recorded by Christine Everheart, Vanity Fair
All right, let's get started, Mr. Stark....
Mr. Stark? How formal. As if you had never seen me mostly naked or something like that.
I'm not really happy about this. Can we just we get started with the basics?
The basics? The stuff you give when you're captured? By the way, they really don't respond well to that kind of crap. Just so you know, when you're in a terrorist hostage situation...
Name. Anthony Edward Stark. Unofficial names include 'you asshole', 'prick' and 'oh, baby, yes!'
That was your personal favorite, wasn't it?
-sound of clearing throat-
OK OK untwist your panties.
Born. April 4th, 1965. What? I have no shame about my age. I look great for it. You know that.
Hometown? The world? I was born in Calverton, New York...which is a very small town in the middle of Long Island potato farms...and midway between Brookhaven National Lab and Grumman Aerospace. Dad was doing some contracting work for them at the time. We lived out in East Hampton. I think I still have a house there. I'll have to ask Miss Potts. How sad, really I can't keep track of all my own shit.
Occupation, CEO/President, Stark Industries. Super-Hero. Sex God. Not always in that order. It depends on the day of the week. What is it today? Tuesday? I'm a sex god first on Tuesdays.
Can you please stop with the little cute asides?
Oh but they're so much fun for me.
Height: 5'1010-no, scratch that 6 foot. [Barely audible] OK, OK five ten but I get it back in the suit.
Weight: Two-twenty five. I think. It's all muscle . I'm wiry.
Hair: Dark Brown There's a few greys coming in. I think they make me look 'distinguished', don't you?
Eyes: Hazel. Very sexy, I've been told. By you, if I remember correctly...
Can we please stay on track, Mr. Stark?
You wound me, Miss Brown.
It's Everheart.
Whatever.
Facial hair, a goatee. I look like a scoundrel with it, don't I? I look like I'm just about old enough to steal quarters out of my mommy's purse without it....all right, not really. I just prefer the beard. It's...useful. Enough said.
Health, Tip top. Checked out by the best physicians in the country. I know it breaks your heart that I don't have any STDs. Trust me, when I hooked up with you...isn't that what the cool kids are all saying these days? Short story: I already know if you've got something, and you're not getting anything from me. but a good time. And multiple orgasms. Again something you well know. Stop glaring at me like that. You loved every mind-shattering second.
I'm healthy as a horse-if you don't count the point two ounces of metal shrapnel in my chest that's floating around, waiting to sneak into my heart and kill me. Other than that, fit as a fiddle. You can't keep the ladies happy without stamina. Me? All about making the ladies happy. Again, you should know all about...
-loud sigh-
...WHAT? Editing's going to take all this crap out anyway, why not have a little fun?
Dress. All custom made. You don't really think that I can buy a pair of Diesels off the rack that make me look this good, do you? OK. So I CAN buy a pair of Diesels off the rack and they look this good. Everything else, custom made. Or designer.
And at last, we come to The Suit. Make sure you capitalize that. Everybody wants to know about 'The Suit'. I could make your head spin and turn your eyes into pinwheels with all the technical jargon that must be giving a generation of little gearheads their first boners. In layman's terms...it's not really made of iron, you know. It's a gold-titanium alloy. But 'gold-titanium alloy' sounds like it should be the framework for an iBook, not a mobile, single-person flying suit of armor with the ability to take out tanks, doesn't it?
Oh yeah. I can fly. It rocks. Hardcore.
-something that sounds like a snort can be heard-
FINE, fine. Stop looking at me like that, here's the jargon. The Mark Three is equipped with jet thrusters that propel the wearer-ME--at around Mach 1 level, retro thrusters that assist in flight stabilization, anti-tank ordinance, flare launchers, anti-personnel guns and is run by a custom designed suite of software and communication software packages. It is for the most part bulletproof. The MOST part. I can-and do-get hurt in it. The flight suit I wear underneath is to keep me from getting baked like poissons en papillote in that thing. You like that huh? A little culinary term, white fish in parchment paper. Very classy. It's powered by a miniature version of the arc reactor that used to power the main Stark Industries campus. I never thought that day I shoved that project down Stane's throat, it would end up being technology that keeps me alive.
In the last few weeks, there have been some interesting things that have come out about Mr. Stane. Would you care to comm--
No. Next question.
But Mr. Stark...
No. Seriously. This ends right now if you push that button again.
All right, then. Who is the real Tony Stark? What skills do you have?
Skills? I have many skills.
OK, I know that was cheesy, stop rolling your eyes. I can build a hot rod from the ground up with just the plans? I tune up all my own cars? I “dated” twelve of the thirteen Maxim cover girls for 2006?
And I make a mean spinach and ham omelet. It's the feta cheese. Trust me.
Many people accuse you of being a walking cliché and having an abrasive personality...
My personality? Please, what's not to love? My personality is what makes me who I am. Irreverent, life of the party, arrogant, obnoxious. Yes, I embrace the negative sides. It's good for me. Makes me well rounded and in touch with my Inner Tony.
And your drinking?
What about my drinking? Are you implying I'm a drunk? Look, a few drinks-
There was that well documented instance at the Bellagio where you were thrown out for destroying--
---hey, that indecent at the Bellagio was blown way out of proportion! I like to have a good time. I wasn't aware that was a crime.
I'm not a drunk. I'm not even a raging alkie. People need to learn to lighten up. Besides, you've seen me when I'm drunk. Aren't I a fun guy?
Maybe we should move on...
Oh, time for the next question? Already? Amazing.
So, I ask again, what about the real Tony Stark? Who is he?
What about me? The real Anthony Edward Stark? Patriot? Warmonger? Philanthropist? Merchant of Death? Iron Man? Tortured soul? Pissy little rich boy? What do you want to know?
Frat boy?
No, I wasn't in a frat at MIT. That would have been illegal...I was a minor, after all. Honestly, they all thought I was a freak. I was 11 when I started college. 11. They had shoes older than I was. I got a lot more action in grad school. I could legally hit on high school chicks. And let me tell you, those girls in Boston are wild. ESPECIALLY Southie girls. Almost as wild as Brown girls.
Are you blushing, sweetie? Yeah, you are.
Let's be slightly honest, shall we? I built bombs because I was too short and too rich to join the Army and the Board of Directors at the time would have crapped themselves if the heir apparent went in hock to the US Government for four years. Would I have? Yes. My father would have understood and approved. And let's get something else out there, while we're at it. I don't give a shit what everyone thinks, I did not have some kind of horrible, tortured childhood where Mommy didn't love me and all Daddy cared about was work. I built my first car when I was seven...with Dad at my side beaming. I loved my Dad, and he loved me and my mom. Did he have high expectations for me? Of coursehe did. His son was a fucking genius, he had every right ot push me and he did. In good ways. They made methe man I am today. He didn't screw around, that I know of. But I do know he loved his family and he loved keeping this country safe, for me, for you, for all Americans. So put that 'looking for approval from the old man' bullshit far off to the other side of the paper. Not. When my parents died, that killed me. It really did. I'm not going to get into little anecdotes about them. Those memories belong to me, and I'll share them with whom I chose to, when I chose to do it.
...and your friends? Or, can they really be called friends?
I have great friends. I have Rhodey, you can't ask for a better friend than Rhodey. Saved my ass more times than I can count. Mostly from myself.
Miss Potts? Well...that's a...she works for me. That's all I'm going to say on that matter. Happy's been my driver since just after my parents died. Talk about your ultimate wingman.
It must be a lonely life. Only having the people who work for you to interact with...
No, I don't think its a lonely life I lead. Lots of multi-billionaires make friends with the people in their employ.
Stop looking at me like that. You're pushing it, Brownie.
Just a few of your favorite things, to round out the interview...
This old gag? OK, OK.
Favorite Drink? Wet, strong and preferably with a blonde connected to the glass
Color? Dark
Car? Fast. I can't pick a type, that would be like asking me to pick a favorite kid. You can't do that.
Woman? Loose
Meal? Expensive
Music? Loud
Movie? ...I'm Tony effing Stark. Movies wish they were as good as my life.
I think that's all I require...
Is that it? Are you done with me? Wanna take a romp for old times sake?
No.
Figured.