The riddle of your heart.
Abated symptoms or not, Tony was aware that time was beginning to press down on him. But he could at least move around without feeling dizzy, he could go out. Maybe he should have been spending all his time in the workshop, staring at data on the screen, but it didn't work. It would help once he had something, but it had to come from his head, first. No amount of staring at simulations or blank design documents would summon up an idea that wasn't there.
He had motivation. A fair degree, anyway. He hadn't achieved enough, and he certainly hadn't done enough here to just give up and let himself go down. Back home, he might have been thinking about his legacy, setting up trusts. Maybe he'd have started up his dad's old Stark Expo. He wasn't the only smart man in the world, just probably the smartest. (Certainly not the most modest. He'd concede to that.)
Here, though. Here he thought they needed something different, and he needed to stick around long enough to put his finger on what it was.
But he hadn't been about to stare at a screen. At least, that had been the original intention, before he'd found the crate in the rec centre. It had his father's name on it. Dear old Dad. He'd opened it, then brought the projector down from the compound. Too crowded. The rec centre was still public, but he wanted to see what this was. Hauling it all back to the house would take even longer.
It seemed fairly run of the mill. Arc reactor plans, with his father's name on. After Anton Vanko's. (Who was Anton Vanko?) He threw them aside. An article on Anton Vanko's defection to the States. (That was Anton Vanko. All right. Physicist.) He put it aside. Reels of film, and notes.
He put the reels on. His father filled the screen, talking fluff, doing takes of one of his Stark Expo spiels. Tony watched long enough to dismiss it -- "City of the futre? City of tomorrow?" -- then left it running as he went through the notes. They were about the arc reactor tech, but proceeded in a direction he'd never heard about.
On screen, Howard Stark ordered a young Tony out of the room. That was his dad, all right.
Equations, equations... he took some notes of his own. There was something here, or not quite something. The beginning of something, the acknowledgement it existed.
"So from all of us here at Stark Industries, I'd like to show you... my ass."
The next page of notes was blank. It simply stopped. Nothing. No grand revelation, no miracle save. Just blank page after blank page. Some legacy, Dad. He threw the notes aside, sighed.
"Tony."
Slowly, he looked up. His father was addressing the screen again, but the old-fashioned broadcast manner was gone. He was simply a man talking. To him. To Tony. Over shots of the Stark Expo model he'd used to have, he said,
"You were too young to understand this now, so I thought I'd put it on film for you. I built this for you. And someday, you'll realize it represents a whole lot more than people's inventions. It represents my life's work. This is the key to the future. I'm limited by the technology of my time, but one day you'll figure this out, and when you do, you will change the world. What is, and always will be, my greatest creation... is you."
Howard Stark smiled. Slightly. It was not an expression Tony had ever seen a lot of, and then it was gone again, as the reel ended, spun out. Tony stared at the space where it had been.
He had motivation. A fair degree, anyway. He hadn't achieved enough, and he certainly hadn't done enough here to just give up and let himself go down. Back home, he might have been thinking about his legacy, setting up trusts. Maybe he'd have started up his dad's old Stark Expo. He wasn't the only smart man in the world, just probably the smartest. (Certainly not the most modest. He'd concede to that.)
Here, though. Here he thought they needed something different, and he needed to stick around long enough to put his finger on what it was.
But he hadn't been about to stare at a screen. At least, that had been the original intention, before he'd found the crate in the rec centre. It had his father's name on it. Dear old Dad. He'd opened it, then brought the projector down from the compound. Too crowded. The rec centre was still public, but he wanted to see what this was. Hauling it all back to the house would take even longer.
It seemed fairly run of the mill. Arc reactor plans, with his father's name on. After Anton Vanko's. (Who was Anton Vanko?) He threw them aside. An article on Anton Vanko's defection to the States. (That was Anton Vanko. All right. Physicist.) He put it aside. Reels of film, and notes.
He put the reels on. His father filled the screen, talking fluff, doing takes of one of his Stark Expo spiels. Tony watched long enough to dismiss it -- "City of the futre? City of tomorrow?" -- then left it running as he went through the notes. They were about the arc reactor tech, but proceeded in a direction he'd never heard about.
On screen, Howard Stark ordered a young Tony out of the room. That was his dad, all right.
Equations, equations... he took some notes of his own. There was something here, or not quite something. The beginning of something, the acknowledgement it existed.
"So from all of us here at Stark Industries, I'd like to show you... my ass."
The next page of notes was blank. It simply stopped. Nothing. No grand revelation, no miracle save. Just blank page after blank page. Some legacy, Dad. He threw the notes aside, sighed.
"Tony."
Slowly, he looked up. His father was addressing the screen again, but the old-fashioned broadcast manner was gone. He was simply a man talking. To him. To Tony. Over shots of the Stark Expo model he'd used to have, he said,
"You were too young to understand this now, so I thought I'd put it on film for you. I built this for you. And someday, you'll realize it represents a whole lot more than people's inventions. It represents my life's work. This is the key to the future. I'm limited by the technology of my time, but one day you'll figure this out, and when you do, you will change the world. What is, and always will be, my greatest creation... is you."
Howard Stark smiled. Slightly. It was not an expression Tony had ever seen a lot of, and then it was gone again, as the reel ended, spun out. Tony stared at the space where it had been.