[GLaDOS, Peter, Duo] Back in black.

[notawastedlife]

Around the station, people fought for their lives. Shots rang out, punctuated by the occasional fall of a body, accompanied by the distressed moan of a dead body forced back into life and then torn apart by lead. The synthetic chirp of "I dooOOn't haate yoouuu," fading under it. Lasers flared across hallways, grids threatening to cut apart anyone

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[daretodo]

In no position to be worried about secret identities -- I mean, there's webbing hanging everywhere, for crying out loud, and it sure as hell didn't come from anyone else -- I pull off the remains of my torn sweater, since it's only bound to get in the way from here on out. Underneath, I have on only my new suit -- form-fitting black Kevlar reinforced with steel mesh, an abstract dark red spider decal stretching across my shoulders and torso. Shock Sheet inserts protect my joints while maintaining my flexibility, and the motorcycle boots pilfered -- and extensively modified -- from the clothes box are a hell of a change from my spandex booties of yesteryear.

I'd look pretty slick, is my thinking, if I weren't still wearing my jeans over top, my mask and gloves shoved into my pockets, and standing next to a guy who's in a suit made out of gold-titanium alloy.

His is the more impressive feat of engineering, no doubt about it. Maybe it doesn't hold a candle to the Iron Man armor in my universe, but with the materials at his disposal and the amount of experience he has to draw upon, I don't know that the Tony Stark back home could've done much better. That, though, I keep to myself, because feeding the monster that is this Tony's ego strikes me as a bad idea when we have considerably bigger fish to fry.

Namely, that I think the station's going down. Maybe I'm overreacting -- maybe we just hit a bump in the vacuum of space -- but thanks to a few cosmic-bound pals of mine, I've been through crashes before. I know the drill, remember that particular edge of panic that sends my body into overdrive, and my mind racing. There's not a single person up here who's safe -- except, maybe, ol' Shellhead -- but if we're really crashing, then we're not the only ones with a ticking time bomb hanging over our heads.

Darting towards the nearest console, I work quickly to pull the relevant data, feeling like some sort of mime as I wave my hands around, dismissing some windows while calling up others. The trajectory of the station is easy enough to find, though I really could've done without all the worrying information that comes along with it. There's about a half a second where I stand stock still, fingers flexed in the air, as I go over it all again to make sure I haven't missed anything, and then I snap to my senses. Sure, I don't have a fancy lightsaber or a gun or a walking weapon of mass destruction, but I'm not a newbie. When the odds get tough is when I do my best work.

"We're dropping out of orbit," I say, magnifying one of the images to show Tony and Duo both, then stepping aside to another console, my hands working of their own accord to draw up additional schematics. "We need to evacuate the station immediately, get a warning down to the folks on the ground. Because if this thing falls--"

[self_named]

"It'll create a crater where the island used to be or cause a tsunami the side of a small goddamn continent," Duo snapped, looking between the two of them with a decidedly freaked out and unhappy expression on his face.

"You fucking bitch!" he added to the ceiling, hands balled up into fists tight enough where the gundanium alloy so carefully fitted in slender panels to form the body of the scythe creaked.

"I cannot begin, cannot even fucking begin," he bit out in a clipped, harsh tone that would have been a snarl if he'd let himself open his mouth, "to tell you how much I hate being on space stations that are plummeting toward the Earth. Cannot begin. We have to alter its path or blow it up before it passes through the atmosphere into big enough chunks to still take out part of the island," he said, rage still infusing his voice but a strange steadiness overtaking his words.

"And we're not that far out, so we need to do it fast. Who wants to evacuate people while I take a wrench to the boiler, or whatever the fuck is keeping this thing from self destructing?"

[gla_dos]

"The following announcement must be made, for posterity's sake. Please stand by," GLaDOS said, and there was the tiniest pause.

"You'll never make it in time."

[notawastedlife]

"Oh, honey," Tony said, the baleful stare of the helmet angling upwards, absolutely no humor present in his tone, "you always know just what to say."

Lowering his look back to Peter and Duo, he strode to a free console, planting his hand down on it, fingers splayed; immediately, screens and data began flickering past faster than the eye could track as the suit's intrusion systems went to electronic war with the station. "Couple of things. One, I have a bigger wrench than you. Two, I filled this place with as many soldiers as scientists, evacuation will already be- Jarvis?"

"I am unable to access the station's core systems through the network. Direct interface will be necessary, and even then, GLaDOS-"

"She's a tough nut, fine. Give me the PA." When he spoke next, there was a slight echo as the speakers throughout the ship repeated what he said. Assuming GLaDOS wasn't cutting him off further down the line. "Ladies, gentlemen, psychotic computers, you may have noticed we are now experiencing some turbulence in addition to being gassed and attacked by robocorpses. This is perfectly normal if you are... falling out of the sky. Please remain calm and run like hell for the exit. I will be having a word with our host about her manners."

He killed the connection and turned to the others. "Who do we have on the ground that's not us?"

[daretodo]

"Jessica," I blurt out. There are plenty of people I might've thought to say instead, considering how long I haven't, technically, known my clone from another home, but something about Tony's phrasing calls her to mind immediately. Besides all that, the rest of the -- admittedly short -- list of people I'd trust to get everyone on the ground to safety are probably up in the air with us.

"I can't vouch for anyone else, but Jessica Drew. My cl-- Cousin. She's new around here, but she's bright. Not to mention stubborn enough to get people's attention whether they wanna listen or not."

That Mary Jane'll be taken care of by someone competent is a bonus I don't mention. Possibly because it's incredibly narcissistic, and I'd rather not admit Tony has some competition on that front.

"And speaking of listening..." I add, turning to Duo, my hands lifted in an appeasing gesture. "Dude, you need to calm down right now before you go and break that cool toy of yours, alright? You want first dibs on the nervous breakdown, fine, but that's not scheduled 'til after we save the day. Which we'll do, because there is no acceptable alternative, capiche?" I look to Tony. "We're all on the same no one is gonna die today page? Because that's a great page. Everyone should read it. Really uplifting stuff."

[self_named]

"I skimmed it," Duo said, "it didn't take. And I don't do nervous breakdowns."

Never during a mission.

"If we're blowing this thing up from the inside I would recommend not letting you do it." He pointed at Tony.

"The combined value of your brain and that suit are pretty high. And you're married and shit," he added, shooting a glance at Parker, "so you're out, too. I'm not a big fan of remote detonations, especially not with a killer AI that has access to cyborg-making assembly lines. So what's the other option, reprogramming her core?" He frowned, absently pressing his thumb to his mouth.

"Or dismantling it. If we don't have anyone fighting us, it can't be that hard to hack the system and stop the station from tanking." Duo had always been happy as a clam to sit at a computer and ruin the lives of the military's leaders, but it was always more satisfying and more permanent to just handle the problem in a direct and physical way. GLaDOS was a computer, she had to exist somewhere. Right?

He freaking hoped so.

[notawastedlife]

"I'm not going to waste time trying to change her," Tony said. "We are taking her apart. Give me a second."

A new set of screens flashed by. From the console, there was the somewhat out of place sound of a phone ringing. After two rings, there was a click, and a voice said, "IPD, Mars speaking."

"Mars," Tony said, "this is Tony Stark. I need you to find-" he glanced at Peter for confirmation, "Jessica Drew, and whoever runs New Atlantis. Get every smart person who's not up here -- get Pepper Potts on it, if she's close -- get them figuring out a way to use that shield of theirs to keep this space station from hitting the island."

There was a pause. Tony was about to fill it, because they were kind of on a deadline, here, when Mars returned with, "...the what from hitting the what? I think you missed a step."

"The space station is coming down, I thought that was- implied. Don't waste time talking to me, get people on this. I'll work on it from up here. Shield. And evacuate to the caves. I've gotta go."

He hung up. "...he believed me, right?"

[gla_dos]

"He probably thinks you're drunk."

[daretodo]

"Oh, for crying out-- Does she have a mute button?" I ask the room at large, throwing up my hands as I turn on my heel, and start towards the hole Duo cut open to get in here in the first place. We have a game plan -- a vague, worryingly amorphous game plan. But that's alright, really, because I've never been one for a lot of planning. Plans get broken. Forgotten. Altered. I mean, we're in a space station that's falling towards the planet below. My thinking is, we've gotta be flexible on this. And, more importantly, we've got to be quick. Already we've wasted so much time standing around jibber jabbering -- if we're gonna keep talking, we better start moving, too. We can argue on the way there, even if I'm with Tony on this one. Changing her just isn't an option at this point.

"Well, what are you two waiting for? C'mon, already!"

[self_named]

Duo watched Peter go and shot Tony a sideways look.

"He's like, super duper gung ho, huh?" He shrugged and spun the scythe casually once around his wrist, then gripped it and started forward.

After a few yards, he said to Peter, "Did you want to use my gun or something?"

[notawastedlife]

"He's a little high-strung," Tony noted, but he took off after Peter nonetheless. The slight slope, the shaking were tangible reminders that in a worryingly short amount of time, there was going to be a smoking ruin where the middle of the island used to be.

The shield probably wouldn't hold up on its own. They had to do something from this end, too, the problem was...

...six zombies hadn't been the end of GLaDOS's supply. The other assemblers around the building had been working. A group of them now shambled down the corridor towards them. Beams lit on the three of them.

One chirped, "I see yoo-"

The repulsor blast cut it off.

"Mute," Tony said.

[daretodo]

I don't like guns. There is a list of reasons as long as my arm for why I don't like guns -- not in my hands, or anyone else's. Even without my powers, it's not an alternative I'm willing to consider -- especially since I'd probably be as much a danger to myself as the zombies -- so I'm about to dismiss Duo's suggestion outright, the words on the very tip of my tongue, when I'm cut off by the sound of a repulsor.

"...he's my gun," I say after a beat, hitching a thumb back towards Iron Man.

[self_named]

"Hey," Duo said cheerfully, pulling up the thermal scythe, "you like pullin' his trigger, I'm not gonna judge." He launched himself into a run and ducked, swiping high, landing the curved beam through a zomborg's faceplate.

"I mean no business of mine what you super-types do behind closed doors, yannowhadi'msayin'?"

[daretodo]

"Well, he sure as hell isn't pulling mine," I say, letting a webline fly up to the ceiling, running fast enough that I'm able to jump up along the wall for a couple of crucial steps before flinging myself onto the back of one of the zombies, ripping out its circuitry like I did to its pal in the lab. As it crumples to the ground, its saw takes out one of its buddies.

I don't waste time to gloat.

"He's a selfish lover. Don't know why I keep him around, really," I add, grunting, as I turn on my heel to land a spinning kick to an approaching cyborg's face, startling it enough that I have a few seconds to think through my next move, even as I duck out of the reach of one trying to grab me from behind. "But seriously, no. I don't do guns. Guns aren't my thing. Man, I don't even like you using a gun, so you can imagine how much I like the idea of me using a gun. I'll--" I drop to the floor, narrowly missing the sting of another bullet. "--pass."

[notawastedlife]

He really hoped Duo wasn't going to bring up that time where he was a girl and didn't tell Tony who he was, he was trying to beat down some poor benighted dead murderous cyborgs, here.

"Is now really the time to talk about gun safety?" he said, grabbing one behind Peter and lifting it up by the neck, crushing the circuits and then throwing its limp form into another zombie. "I think zombie safety is more pressing."

He caught a descending saw and forced it backwards into the thing's own circuitry, launching a repulsor blast between Peter and Duo to knock down another.

[self_named]

"Sor-ree, Batman," Duo drawled, amiably enough to denote there was no offense taken nor meant, whipping his body around and punching one cyborg in the face with his gun before cutting out its circuitry at the base of its neck with a flick of the scythe. He shoved the flailing body into another zombie and then sent the scythe through both of their faceplates. They teetered over in a pile of no longer functioning limbs like ungainly dominoes.

"And the only reason I put up with his ego is he's such an amazing kisser."