Iron Man: She Builds Quick Machines 1/??
Title: She Builds Quick Machines
Fandom: Iron Man (movieverse)
Author: Ghani Starkiller @ mrs_peel_fanfic
Rating: PG-13 for language and sexual situations
Disclaimer: Marvel and the filmmakers own 'em, I just play with 'em.
Characters: Tony, Rhodes, Pepper, flashback!Obadiah, some Happy, OFCs, Pepper/Tony, Rhodey/OFC
Summary: As Pepper urges Tony to accept Obadiah's betrayal, she herself grows closer in sympathy to Stane's grieving personal assistant, and becomes fearful for Tony's new lifestyle and her relationship with it and him. Meanwhile Stark and Rhodes slowly begin to uncover a plot coming from within Stark Industries that involves industrial espionage, revenge and the unsettling resurgence of a ghost from Tony's troubled past. And cybernetic ninjas.
A/N: Big thanks to jadeblood for beta'ing this chapter! The OFCs are actually characters I've hijacked from the comics to use for my own nefarious purpose; hopefully, if you know the comics, I'm still able to surprise you a little bit by adapting them in unique ways to the movieverse; and if you don't, you get to know and like the characters as I've created them here.
Beautiful Story Graphic by jadeblood
Prologue-
Sleek like a shadow moved by a shifting light source the figure crept in the darkness, its movements strangely and unnaturally fluid; swiftly it evaded effortlessly Stark Industries’ extensive, devilishly hi-tech security measures. It was single-minded in its pursuit of its objective and seemed to almost carelessly disregard all else as it slipped down the empty corridors of the office building.
It reached the door it was searching for with a familiarity of one who had visited the site regularly and used its passcard; the system spat out an angry, dejecting sound before it cycled through its options, recognized code and granted the figure access. It stole inside. “I’m in,” said the shadow in a whisper-like tone both triumphant and indifferent, touching lightly two fingers to the two-way microphone nestled into its ear.
“The computer,” responded a voice with authority and the figure slinked like oil across the private office, again with an uncanny knowledge of its location. “Insert the disc I gave you,” the voice continued to instruct. “It will automatically access his personal files. You have exactly twenty-seven seconds before you’ll be detected.”
“Understood,” replied the shadow with a brisk nod as it brought the PC out of hibernation, skillfully typing in the classified passwords that granted access to the most protected data. “I’ll only need seven. And what of Stark?“
“Execute the plan only,” the voice said coldly, “and leave that to me.”
1.
“The organic blend, like you requested,” said Pepper Potts briskly as she placed a mug of steaming hot coffee and the latest issue of US Weekly magazine on the desk beside her employer Tony Stark’s elbow. She glanced over his shoulder briefly, his face lost in some deep, faraway thought, his brow furrowed as he contemplated an interactive three-dimensional blueprint; for what, she couldn’t exactly be sure, for it looked to her to be only so much nonsense, a holographic mess of intersected lines. She shuddered to think, what with his latest hobby.
No, she regretted thinking of it that way: it wasn’t a fad of his, his latest diversion; she’d seen his conviction, his dedication to his newfound cause. And she had witnessed how it had transformed him into a better person. Or, rather, the person she always knew he could be.
“I feel guilty,” she muttered.
“Mm,” he replied distractedly, reaching for the mug, and at first she believed that he hadn’t really heard her. She hadn’t necessarily meant him to, and his inattentiveness was characteristic, especially when he was working. She smiled at herself and shook her head, her ginger ponytail bouncing from shoulder to shoulder. As she turned to stroll away, he spoke, startling her with his inquisitive tone of voice as well as his sudden interest, “’Bout what? Obadiah?”
Turning back to him, she found he was regarding her now, one hand still skillfully tweaking his designs but rather absently now as she watched her, one eyebrow curiously arched. “Oh.” Her mouth was loosely puckered into the shape of the sound she’d just uttered. “No, I, um-his personal assistant, actually,” she explained. “I was thinking of Obadiah’s assistant.” She shrugged. “It’s just that, you know, she’ll never know the truth. Which is for the best,” she added quickly, “for everyone, but-“ What if it were me, she considered uneasily; what if he were gone and it were me?
A strange sensation pricked at her spine and she folded her arms across her chest to keep from shivering noticeably, convincing herself that she had to speak with Jarvis about adjusting the climate control in Tony’s workshop.
“Ah yes,” said Tony, pulling a comically lusty face, like one of those cartoon wolves whose tongues lolled out like a red carpet, “the scrumptious Miss Kissy Long-legs-“
“Longfellow,” Pepper corrected with a long-suffering sigh, tossing her bangs from her forehead with a flip of her hand, rolling her eyes. “Kristine Longfellow.”
Tony shrugged his lithely muscular shoulders. “Toe-mate-oh, toe-mah-toe,” he teased, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his elegantly expressive eyes. “Though, truthfully, I think I can do more with the real thing, really, in terms of innuendo or the salacious pun. You speak with her, with Krissy?” he asked with a practiced casualness.
Tony had made Krissy a vice executive-of-something, a mostly honorary title that guaranteed that she stayed on the payroll. She was a bright young woman, hard working and loyal. The pitiless lawyers at Stark Industries had urged Tony to sweep her under the carpet as swiftly as possible. After she’d been covertly debriefed and he’d been assured that she’d no knowledge of Obadiah’s actions, Tony had bluntly refused the board’s adamant recommendation of a tidy bribe and a dismissal.
“This morning,” confirmed Pepper with a nod. “She was at the office, clearing out what the Strategic Homeland Intervention-“ Tony muttered along with her, rolling his head to the words in a lolling, get-on-with-it sort of nod. “Um, yeah, S.H.I.E.L.D-what they haven’t already made off with.” Her voice was smaller than she expected it to be as she informed him, “She cleaned out Obadiah’s desk, his personal effects. We chatted a little.” There’d been tears.
And again that chill began to creep up on her as she thought: That could be me.
“Which reminds me,” Pepper said, gladly changing the subject with a gasp. “I got a communiqué from S.H.I.E.L.D about something they found in Obadiah’s files, a mention of something called…’Abdias?’” She pinched her slender shoulders together in a shrug. “They didn’t come across any actual files, just a few scattered references. They wondered if maybe you knew what it meant?”
He looked away from her quickly, his eyes darting about, studying his holographic model once more with a rapidly moving, unfocused glare, as if he were looking past it at something unknown, troubling. “Yeah, well,” he said gruffly, “turns out there was a whole hell of a lot that Obie didn’t exactly care and share with me.” His brow crumpled into a sulky glower. “Is it important?”
She shook her head briskly. “They’re looking into it but they don’t think so. Most likely just a project he never had the time to work on or maybe something-some idea-he discarded.”
Tony barked a short, sly laugh. “They wouldn’t have asked if they had thought it was nothing,” he observed shrewdly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Huh,” he said with a frown, holding the mug out in front of his face and examining it with affected confusion. “Hey, Potts, why don’t you ever use that one I bought? The one that has ‘Sexy Boss’ embossed on it in the gold lettering.”
“I can’t imagine, Mr. Stark,” she replied dryly, her lips twitching with a barely suppressed a smirk. “I’ll look into it if you like.”
He narrowed his eyes with playful suspicion. “No need. I’ll just have Jarvis remind you the next time you’re making a fresh pot.” She coughed politely into her fist, making a mental note to accidentally knock the thing from the highest shelf she could reach, just in case he decided to take this seriously.
“Oh yes, please do, sir,” came Jarvis’ wry retort. “I haven’t quite enough to do as it is without worrying over which mug Miss Potts chooses to use. Would you prefer I remember that or the basic concepts of quantum theory?”
“Well,” quipped Tony, sucking on the inside of his cheek, “I do really like that mug….” He let his voice trail off teasingly. His eyes fell on the magazine she’d brought with the coffee and he raised his eyebrows questioningly as he set the mug down, taking the publication in hand and snapping it open. “What’s this?” he asked, scrutinizing the cover. “What, you’re buying this trash now, what-?“ He cleared his throat. “Ah,” he exclaimed quietly.
Her smile finally pushed through her impeccable poise. “I thought you’d like to read about your latest exploits,” she explained through pursed lips, her eyes sparkling with mischievous laughter. “Seeing as you’re too busy locking yourself away down here to actually experience them firsthand.”
He shot her a warning glare and she managed to subdue her amusement, pursing her lips rather severely. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” he accused, rolling the magazine and wagging it at her reproachfully. “When I was actually going out and doing this kind of stuff, you didn’t think it was so funny then. Huh? Am I right? Don’t tell me you’re starting to pine for the old days.”
A memory resurfaced, one she fought daily to stifle. Her worst nightmare come sickeningly to life: the morning she’d learned of Tony’s abduction. She’d never had a panic attack before then, and she had felt as if she were dying; she remembered clutching at her chest as her heart raced and her lungs refused to cooperate with the breath she was trying to gasp down. She attempted to keep her tone playful even as she grappled with the recollection of rising panic. “I suppose I just miss they days when I knew that stories like those-“ She gestured to the magazine. “-were the worst thing that could happen to you.”
“It still might be,” he commented, frowning as he flipped through the pages of the tabloid, pretending that his perceptive gaze wasn’t furtively watching her, studying her expression. “I mean, I think I’d rather be under mortar fire than-“ He pulled a face, folding the magazine open and holding it up. “Look, even I’m not this cheap. Plus, like, identical triplets are a biological impossibility, everyone knows that.”
“If this becomes a discussion about experience, Tony,” sighed Pepper warningly, rubbing her forehead, “so help me….”
“They’re not even my type,” he protested with an incredulous, high-pitched chuckle. “Any…of them. Ooh.” He hissed through his teeth, his frown deepened as he turned a page. “Especially not him. How do these types of rumors get started?”
“And what exactly is your type, Mr. Stark?” teased Pepper, aware almost immediately after the words left her mouth of the glorious opportunity she’d just handed him.
He seized the opening with the gusto she’d expected him to, closing the distance between them in only a few rapid strides. “Well, you know,” he sighed, rubbing his goatee as if in contemplation. “Tall, elegant, poised. Great set of gams. Organized….”
“Organized,” encouraged Pepper in spite of herself. “Really?”
“Oh yeah, big turn on,” he insisted.
“You’re making fun of me,” she said slyly, shaking her head dismissively.
“I would never,” he responded solemnly. He was close, as close as he’d been the night they had danced. She struggled to look anywhere but into those large, sincere eyes of his, desperately struggling not to see the earnestness there. He smelled lovely; not the scent of his expensive cologne but the pungent sweat on his skin, fragrant with the simple perfume of Ivory soap. Along with the faint galvanic taste the miniaturized arc reactor set into his chest left in her mouth when she got near enough, and raised the hair along her arms. At least, she wanted to believe it was the arc reactor.
She rephrased her statement. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“Me?” he said, arching his brows and Pepper felt instantly that the moment had slipped away from her; she felt an odd sense of reprieve mingled with regret. “This is what I’m taking seriously!” he declared adamantly, gesturing towards his holographic blueprint. He threw the magazine over his shoulder carelessly; it landed in a messy pile on his desk. “That obnoxious dreck, they’re not interested in what I’m doing here, the advances I’m striving to make.”
So maybe he was having a bit of a difficult time coming to terms with the two sides of himself, with what lingered of what he used to be in what he was now; he’d find a balance sooner or later, he was certain. Pepper would accuse him of avoiding the responsibility of attempting to sort it out himself, and she’d pretty much be right, as usual; he was responsible enough at least to recognize that much. Which is why he didn’t say that part aloud.
“By the end of the decade,” he announced fervently, “I will have perfected a prosthetic with an artificial intelligence that can anticipate and act on its owner’s will. I’m leaping decades in days here and all they’re concerned with is who’s adopting a Third World baby this week and what they're wearing while doing it.”
For a moment, all she could do was nod, moved nearly to tears by the passion in his words. “Yes, Mr. Stark,” she replied quietly, realizing that Tony’s attention was already shifted back to his design-in-progress. She turned to leave once more, the heels of her shoes clicking smartly as she strode across the workroom.
“Wasn’t there something else you wanted to tell me?” he inquired knowingly; she turned her head to him but his intense gaze was strictly focused on his work. “You brought the magazine with you to soften the blow,” he stated matter-of-factly, shrugging one shoulder distractedly. She clucked her tongue softly; he knew her as well as she knew him, despite her occasional conviction that he’d sooner be aware of the character quirks of a PDA on legs.
She cleared her throat. He knew; he was going to force her to say it. “Obadiah’s funeral is at ten o’clock this Saturday; S.H.I.E.L.D believes it’s probably a good idea that you attend, to keep up appearances.” He didn’t answer, but he’d stopped his tinkering, lost in some private thought. “I’m going,” she told him softly; the suggestion ‘you won’t be alone’ was implicit.
“I’ve set aside your gray wool Armani,” she told him evenly, regaining her detached air of professionalism but never detachment. “With the mauve silk tie and your father’s gold cufflinks. I thought you’d use the tie pin Obadiah gave you for your twenty-first.” When several minutes passed and he hadn’t answered, she exited at last with an efficient nod; Tony watched her go out of the corners of his eyes, rubbing a hand over his goatee.
“Jarvis,” Tony said with mischievous flippancy when he was sure that Pepper was out of ear shot, “how’d you like play a little game of virtual hide n’ seek?”
“I shudder to think, sir,” replied the artificial intelligence sardonically.
“You know, I can rewrite your program to get rid of that pesky sarcasm and free will,” Tony mumbled mutinously, glaring vaguely at the ceiling. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he scoffed. “I want you to do a search on the term ‘Abdias.’”
“Shall I scour the company’s database?” inquired Jarvis, curiosity discernible in the disembodied voice. “Or shall I confine my search to the Stark Industries personnel private server?”
“All of it,” responded Tony flatly, making a circular motion with the forefinger of one hand as if to indicate the encompassing of all information. “Google it if you have to. Filter for relevancy and crosscheck against anything you find in the database.”
“It will take some time for any consistent results,” said Jarvis thoughtfully.
“Do it,” Tony confirmed with a nod. “Let me know what you find as soon as you can. And let’s just keep this between you and me for the time being, huh? No need to worry Pepper with it. Like she said, it’s probably nothing.” If it were nothing, he thought wryly, I wouldn’t be wasting time on it and neither would S.H.I.E.L.D; if they weren’t willing to share with the class just yet, he’d just have to investigate on his own.
“No, sir,” Jarvis agreed with sincere obedience and Tony smiled lopsidedly as he sipped his coffee again, retrieving the magazine and leafing through it with amused interest.
TBC
Peace, Ghani
Fandom: Iron Man (movieverse)
Author: Ghani Starkiller @ mrs_peel_fanfic
Rating: PG-13 for language and sexual situations
Disclaimer: Marvel and the filmmakers own 'em, I just play with 'em.
Characters: Tony, Rhodes, Pepper, flashback!Obadiah, some Happy, OFCs, Pepper/Tony, Rhodey/OFC
Summary: As Pepper urges Tony to accept Obadiah's betrayal, she herself grows closer in sympathy to Stane's grieving personal assistant, and becomes fearful for Tony's new lifestyle and her relationship with it and him. Meanwhile Stark and Rhodes slowly begin to uncover a plot coming from within Stark Industries that involves industrial espionage, revenge and the unsettling resurgence of a ghost from Tony's troubled past. And cybernetic ninjas.
A/N: Big thanks to jadeblood for beta'ing this chapter! The OFCs are actually characters I've hijacked from the comics to use for my own nefarious purpose; hopefully, if you know the comics, I'm still able to surprise you a little bit by adapting them in unique ways to the movieverse; and if you don't, you get to know and like the characters as I've created them here.
Beautiful Story Graphic by jadeblood
Prologue-
Sleek like a shadow moved by a shifting light source the figure crept in the darkness, its movements strangely and unnaturally fluid; swiftly it evaded effortlessly Stark Industries’ extensive, devilishly hi-tech security measures. It was single-minded in its pursuit of its objective and seemed to almost carelessly disregard all else as it slipped down the empty corridors of the office building.
It reached the door it was searching for with a familiarity of one who had visited the site regularly and used its passcard; the system spat out an angry, dejecting sound before it cycled through its options, recognized code and granted the figure access. It stole inside. “I’m in,” said the shadow in a whisper-like tone both triumphant and indifferent, touching lightly two fingers to the two-way microphone nestled into its ear.
“The computer,” responded a voice with authority and the figure slinked like oil across the private office, again with an uncanny knowledge of its location. “Insert the disc I gave you,” the voice continued to instruct. “It will automatically access his personal files. You have exactly twenty-seven seconds before you’ll be detected.”
“Understood,” replied the shadow with a brisk nod as it brought the PC out of hibernation, skillfully typing in the classified passwords that granted access to the most protected data. “I’ll only need seven. And what of Stark?“
“Execute the plan only,” the voice said coldly, “and leave that to me.”
1.
“The organic blend, like you requested,” said Pepper Potts briskly as she placed a mug of steaming hot coffee and the latest issue of US Weekly magazine on the desk beside her employer Tony Stark’s elbow. She glanced over his shoulder briefly, his face lost in some deep, faraway thought, his brow furrowed as he contemplated an interactive three-dimensional blueprint; for what, she couldn’t exactly be sure, for it looked to her to be only so much nonsense, a holographic mess of intersected lines. She shuddered to think, what with his latest hobby.
No, she regretted thinking of it that way: it wasn’t a fad of his, his latest diversion; she’d seen his conviction, his dedication to his newfound cause. And she had witnessed how it had transformed him into a better person. Or, rather, the person she always knew he could be.
“I feel guilty,” she muttered.
“Mm,” he replied distractedly, reaching for the mug, and at first she believed that he hadn’t really heard her. She hadn’t necessarily meant him to, and his inattentiveness was characteristic, especially when he was working. She smiled at herself and shook her head, her ginger ponytail bouncing from shoulder to shoulder. As she turned to stroll away, he spoke, startling her with his inquisitive tone of voice as well as his sudden interest, “’Bout what? Obadiah?”
Turning back to him, she found he was regarding her now, one hand still skillfully tweaking his designs but rather absently now as she watched her, one eyebrow curiously arched. “Oh.” Her mouth was loosely puckered into the shape of the sound she’d just uttered. “No, I, um-his personal assistant, actually,” she explained. “I was thinking of Obadiah’s assistant.” She shrugged. “It’s just that, you know, she’ll never know the truth. Which is for the best,” she added quickly, “for everyone, but-“ What if it were me, she considered uneasily; what if he were gone and it were me?
A strange sensation pricked at her spine and she folded her arms across her chest to keep from shivering noticeably, convincing herself that she had to speak with Jarvis about adjusting the climate control in Tony’s workshop.
“Ah yes,” said Tony, pulling a comically lusty face, like one of those cartoon wolves whose tongues lolled out like a red carpet, “the scrumptious Miss Kissy Long-legs-“
“Longfellow,” Pepper corrected with a long-suffering sigh, tossing her bangs from her forehead with a flip of her hand, rolling her eyes. “Kristine Longfellow.”
Tony shrugged his lithely muscular shoulders. “Toe-mate-oh, toe-mah-toe,” he teased, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his elegantly expressive eyes. “Though, truthfully, I think I can do more with the real thing, really, in terms of innuendo or the salacious pun. You speak with her, with Krissy?” he asked with a practiced casualness.
Tony had made Krissy a vice executive-of-something, a mostly honorary title that guaranteed that she stayed on the payroll. She was a bright young woman, hard working and loyal. The pitiless lawyers at Stark Industries had urged Tony to sweep her under the carpet as swiftly as possible. After she’d been covertly debriefed and he’d been assured that she’d no knowledge of Obadiah’s actions, Tony had bluntly refused the board’s adamant recommendation of a tidy bribe and a dismissal.
“This morning,” confirmed Pepper with a nod. “She was at the office, clearing out what the Strategic Homeland Intervention-“ Tony muttered along with her, rolling his head to the words in a lolling, get-on-with-it sort of nod. “Um, yeah, S.H.I.E.L.D-what they haven’t already made off with.” Her voice was smaller than she expected it to be as she informed him, “She cleaned out Obadiah’s desk, his personal effects. We chatted a little.” There’d been tears.
And again that chill began to creep up on her as she thought: That could be me.
“Which reminds me,” Pepper said, gladly changing the subject with a gasp. “I got a communiqué from S.H.I.E.L.D about something they found in Obadiah’s files, a mention of something called…’Abdias?’” She pinched her slender shoulders together in a shrug. “They didn’t come across any actual files, just a few scattered references. They wondered if maybe you knew what it meant?”
He looked away from her quickly, his eyes darting about, studying his holographic model once more with a rapidly moving, unfocused glare, as if he were looking past it at something unknown, troubling. “Yeah, well,” he said gruffly, “turns out there was a whole hell of a lot that Obie didn’t exactly care and share with me.” His brow crumpled into a sulky glower. “Is it important?”
She shook her head briskly. “They’re looking into it but they don’t think so. Most likely just a project he never had the time to work on or maybe something-some idea-he discarded.”
Tony barked a short, sly laugh. “They wouldn’t have asked if they had thought it was nothing,” he observed shrewdly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Huh,” he said with a frown, holding the mug out in front of his face and examining it with affected confusion. “Hey, Potts, why don’t you ever use that one I bought? The one that has ‘Sexy Boss’ embossed on it in the gold lettering.”
“I can’t imagine, Mr. Stark,” she replied dryly, her lips twitching with a barely suppressed a smirk. “I’ll look into it if you like.”
He narrowed his eyes with playful suspicion. “No need. I’ll just have Jarvis remind you the next time you’re making a fresh pot.” She coughed politely into her fist, making a mental note to accidentally knock the thing from the highest shelf she could reach, just in case he decided to take this seriously.
“Oh yes, please do, sir,” came Jarvis’ wry retort. “I haven’t quite enough to do as it is without worrying over which mug Miss Potts chooses to use. Would you prefer I remember that or the basic concepts of quantum theory?”
“Well,” quipped Tony, sucking on the inside of his cheek, “I do really like that mug….” He let his voice trail off teasingly. His eyes fell on the magazine she’d brought with the coffee and he raised his eyebrows questioningly as he set the mug down, taking the publication in hand and snapping it open. “What’s this?” he asked, scrutinizing the cover. “What, you’re buying this trash now, what-?“ He cleared his throat. “Ah,” he exclaimed quietly.
Her smile finally pushed through her impeccable poise. “I thought you’d like to read about your latest exploits,” she explained through pursed lips, her eyes sparkling with mischievous laughter. “Seeing as you’re too busy locking yourself away down here to actually experience them firsthand.”
He shot her a warning glare and she managed to subdue her amusement, pursing her lips rather severely. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” he accused, rolling the magazine and wagging it at her reproachfully. “When I was actually going out and doing this kind of stuff, you didn’t think it was so funny then. Huh? Am I right? Don’t tell me you’re starting to pine for the old days.”
A memory resurfaced, one she fought daily to stifle. Her worst nightmare come sickeningly to life: the morning she’d learned of Tony’s abduction. She’d never had a panic attack before then, and she had felt as if she were dying; she remembered clutching at her chest as her heart raced and her lungs refused to cooperate with the breath she was trying to gasp down. She attempted to keep her tone playful even as she grappled with the recollection of rising panic. “I suppose I just miss they days when I knew that stories like those-“ She gestured to the magazine. “-were the worst thing that could happen to you.”
“It still might be,” he commented, frowning as he flipped through the pages of the tabloid, pretending that his perceptive gaze wasn’t furtively watching her, studying her expression. “I mean, I think I’d rather be under mortar fire than-“ He pulled a face, folding the magazine open and holding it up. “Look, even I’m not this cheap. Plus, like, identical triplets are a biological impossibility, everyone knows that.”
“If this becomes a discussion about experience, Tony,” sighed Pepper warningly, rubbing her forehead, “so help me….”
“They’re not even my type,” he protested with an incredulous, high-pitched chuckle. “Any…of them. Ooh.” He hissed through his teeth, his frown deepened as he turned a page. “Especially not him. How do these types of rumors get started?”
“And what exactly is your type, Mr. Stark?” teased Pepper, aware almost immediately after the words left her mouth of the glorious opportunity she’d just handed him.
He seized the opening with the gusto she’d expected him to, closing the distance between them in only a few rapid strides. “Well, you know,” he sighed, rubbing his goatee as if in contemplation. “Tall, elegant, poised. Great set of gams. Organized….”
“Organized,” encouraged Pepper in spite of herself. “Really?”
“Oh yeah, big turn on,” he insisted.
“You’re making fun of me,” she said slyly, shaking her head dismissively.
“I would never,” he responded solemnly. He was close, as close as he’d been the night they had danced. She struggled to look anywhere but into those large, sincere eyes of his, desperately struggling not to see the earnestness there. He smelled lovely; not the scent of his expensive cologne but the pungent sweat on his skin, fragrant with the simple perfume of Ivory soap. Along with the faint galvanic taste the miniaturized arc reactor set into his chest left in her mouth when she got near enough, and raised the hair along her arms. At least, she wanted to believe it was the arc reactor.
She rephrased her statement. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“Me?” he said, arching his brows and Pepper felt instantly that the moment had slipped away from her; she felt an odd sense of reprieve mingled with regret. “This is what I’m taking seriously!” he declared adamantly, gesturing towards his holographic blueprint. He threw the magazine over his shoulder carelessly; it landed in a messy pile on his desk. “That obnoxious dreck, they’re not interested in what I’m doing here, the advances I’m striving to make.”
So maybe he was having a bit of a difficult time coming to terms with the two sides of himself, with what lingered of what he used to be in what he was now; he’d find a balance sooner or later, he was certain. Pepper would accuse him of avoiding the responsibility of attempting to sort it out himself, and she’d pretty much be right, as usual; he was responsible enough at least to recognize that much. Which is why he didn’t say that part aloud.
“By the end of the decade,” he announced fervently, “I will have perfected a prosthetic with an artificial intelligence that can anticipate and act on its owner’s will. I’m leaping decades in days here and all they’re concerned with is who’s adopting a Third World baby this week and what they're wearing while doing it.”
For a moment, all she could do was nod, moved nearly to tears by the passion in his words. “Yes, Mr. Stark,” she replied quietly, realizing that Tony’s attention was already shifted back to his design-in-progress. She turned to leave once more, the heels of her shoes clicking smartly as she strode across the workroom.
“Wasn’t there something else you wanted to tell me?” he inquired knowingly; she turned her head to him but his intense gaze was strictly focused on his work. “You brought the magazine with you to soften the blow,” he stated matter-of-factly, shrugging one shoulder distractedly. She clucked her tongue softly; he knew her as well as she knew him, despite her occasional conviction that he’d sooner be aware of the character quirks of a PDA on legs.
She cleared her throat. He knew; he was going to force her to say it. “Obadiah’s funeral is at ten o’clock this Saturday; S.H.I.E.L.D believes it’s probably a good idea that you attend, to keep up appearances.” He didn’t answer, but he’d stopped his tinkering, lost in some private thought. “I’m going,” she told him softly; the suggestion ‘you won’t be alone’ was implicit.
“I’ve set aside your gray wool Armani,” she told him evenly, regaining her detached air of professionalism but never detachment. “With the mauve silk tie and your father’s gold cufflinks. I thought you’d use the tie pin Obadiah gave you for your twenty-first.” When several minutes passed and he hadn’t answered, she exited at last with an efficient nod; Tony watched her go out of the corners of his eyes, rubbing a hand over his goatee.
“Jarvis,” Tony said with mischievous flippancy when he was sure that Pepper was out of ear shot, “how’d you like play a little game of virtual hide n’ seek?”
“I shudder to think, sir,” replied the artificial intelligence sardonically.
“You know, I can rewrite your program to get rid of that pesky sarcasm and free will,” Tony mumbled mutinously, glaring vaguely at the ceiling. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he scoffed. “I want you to do a search on the term ‘Abdias.’”
“Shall I scour the company’s database?” inquired Jarvis, curiosity discernible in the disembodied voice. “Or shall I confine my search to the Stark Industries personnel private server?”
“All of it,” responded Tony flatly, making a circular motion with the forefinger of one hand as if to indicate the encompassing of all information. “Google it if you have to. Filter for relevancy and crosscheck against anything you find in the database.”
“It will take some time for any consistent results,” said Jarvis thoughtfully.
“Do it,” Tony confirmed with a nod. “Let me know what you find as soon as you can. And let’s just keep this between you and me for the time being, huh? No need to worry Pepper with it. Like she said, it’s probably nothing.” If it were nothing, he thought wryly, I wouldn’t be wasting time on it and neither would S.H.I.E.L.D; if they weren’t willing to share with the class just yet, he’d just have to investigate on his own.
“No, sir,” Jarvis agreed with sincere obedience and Tony smiled lopsidedly as he sipped his coffee again, retrieving the magazine and leafing through it with amused interest.
TBC
Peace, Ghani