video;
[ the video opens in the Mayor's office, but the man sitting in his chair is not the Mayor. No, it's Anthony Edward Stark, mustachioed and grim. He's wearing the same black and red suit that Bobby and Johnny had on in the last post, and his hands are folded neatly on the desk. He is every inch the suave businessman that many know from their own universe. It's obvious from the disarray in the background that there was a scuffle here. ]
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that the Wizard has just stepped out from behind the curtain---that the big bad wolf has finally shown his true face. I know this, because I've been monitoring your activity on my network. It's plugged into my head, you know. Everything you've said, every secret you've divulged, I've seen it.
Did you really think we'd give you a clean network and trust you not to use it to form mobs? I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say no, that you're not that stupid. Even though your actions say otherwise.
[ he smooths his mustache with his thumb and forefinger, leaning out of view for a moment. When he sits upright again, he has Captain America's shield in both hands. This one is dented, the paint scratched. It hasn't been buffed---or used---in many, many years. ]
On the off chance that some of you will choose to listen instead of demonize me, I'd like to give you a history lesson. We are, after all, the product of our fathers' actions and our grandfathers' wars.
My father, Howard Stark, was a key thinker during WWII. He was one of the big brains that was called in to think up weapons---anything sleek and effective that could turn the tide of the war. He helped create the atomic bomb, but...that wasn't what won us the war. Not in the hearts and minds of the American people. What won it for us, really, was the idea of the superhuman.
[ he taps his finger on the shield ]
Steven Grant Rogers embodied the American dream. He was the orphaned, 98-pound son of Irish immigrants, and though he was small and sick and weak, he wanted to be a hero. He was the scrappy young runt that people root for not because they believe he'll win, but because they need him to win. When a weakling becomes a hero, he ignites hope in the hearts of every other weakling alive who craves that transformation. Rogers was the first, but he wasn't the last. Horton's discoveries in the 1930s changed the way we fought the war.
Our fathers made gods. Each successive generation was bigger, stronger, better. We progressed quickly from strong men to robots who went on fire to unaging, undying, perfect monsters.
And America wasn't the only one. Soon enough, Russia was stockpiling superheroes, pouring all of their resources into their Widows and Wolf Spiders while their children starved in the streets. Within ten years, every nation with adequate funding had no fewer than a half dozen superhumans who could level cities with a thought.
Tension between the Soviets and America grew---stop me if you've heard this one. It became damn clear that if a truce wasn't made, one or the other would create something so powerful and so uncontrolled that everything would be wiped out.
It was all written up and agreed upon. Everyone shook hands, and all current superhumans were... [ a pause. ] ...painlessly, humanely euthanized. Everyone agreed that we'd stop playing God and get back to manufacturing bullets and bombs like sensible human beings.
You can imagine, then, how difficult it was for us when Captain America's body was found. His remains weren't even fully defrosted before he started showing signs of activity, and... [ Tony runs his hand over the shield, resting his palm against the star. ] He would have understood that he was a risk to the American people. He would have agreed with the decision his country made, I believe. The injection was administered before he woke up fully---he just went back to sleep.
The good Captain was buried with full military honors. You can see the footage---the president made a very stirring speech. One of his best ones, I think.
[ he sets the shield aside, turning to look up at the wall behind him. ]
None of us realized what we were starting when we formed the Avengers. We didn't know where the old heroes had disappeared to. We'd grown up on the rosy retellings of the Invaders' adventures---we were spoon-fed heroes as myth, free of the ugly facts. None of us could have foreseen the Pandora's box we were re-opening when we assembled for the first time. We reached far beyond our means, emulating the god-heroes that had never truly existed. We---I---made mistakes, and we paid for them dearly. But we've never lost sight of our goals.
I doubt that you'll believe me, but we did have the best intentions at heart. And, even now, we stick to those same principles that we started with---we work together to achieve goals that none of us could reach on our own. What happened yesterday with Dr. Pym was... [ he seems to work the word around his mouth, finding it to be sour. ] ...unfortunate. Hank's actions reflected his own sickness, not our stance.
Your reactions were murderous. Overblown. You attacked us in our own home, killing several of my teammates. My friends.
You have set the tone for any further interaction between imports and the natives of this world. We will no longer let you go with just a slap on the wrist. We will not negotiate. And if you believe that taking your grievances to the government will help you, you're delusional.
Who do you think made us this way? The government knows exactly who we are, and the president wrote me a blank check to do what I deem best.
We are the Posthumans. One way or another, we will protect our world.
[ooc: replies from Tony will be sporadic at best, because he is a huge douchebag. Enjoy the wall of text. ]
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that the Wizard has just stepped out from behind the curtain---that the big bad wolf has finally shown his true face. I know this, because I've been monitoring your activity on my network. It's plugged into my head, you know. Everything you've said, every secret you've divulged, I've seen it.
Did you really think we'd give you a clean network and trust you not to use it to form mobs? I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say no, that you're not that stupid. Even though your actions say otherwise.
[ he smooths his mustache with his thumb and forefinger, leaning out of view for a moment. When he sits upright again, he has Captain America's shield in both hands. This one is dented, the paint scratched. It hasn't been buffed---or used---in many, many years. ]
On the off chance that some of you will choose to listen instead of demonize me, I'd like to give you a history lesson. We are, after all, the product of our fathers' actions and our grandfathers' wars.
My father, Howard Stark, was a key thinker during WWII. He was one of the big brains that was called in to think up weapons---anything sleek and effective that could turn the tide of the war. He helped create the atomic bomb, but...that wasn't what won us the war. Not in the hearts and minds of the American people. What won it for us, really, was the idea of the superhuman.
[ he taps his finger on the shield ]
Steven Grant Rogers embodied the American dream. He was the orphaned, 98-pound son of Irish immigrants, and though he was small and sick and weak, he wanted to be a hero. He was the scrappy young runt that people root for not because they believe he'll win, but because they need him to win. When a weakling becomes a hero, he ignites hope in the hearts of every other weakling alive who craves that transformation. Rogers was the first, but he wasn't the last. Horton's discoveries in the 1930s changed the way we fought the war.
Our fathers made gods. Each successive generation was bigger, stronger, better. We progressed quickly from strong men to robots who went on fire to unaging, undying, perfect monsters.
And America wasn't the only one. Soon enough, Russia was stockpiling superheroes, pouring all of their resources into their Widows and Wolf Spiders while their children starved in the streets. Within ten years, every nation with adequate funding had no fewer than a half dozen superhumans who could level cities with a thought.
Tension between the Soviets and America grew---stop me if you've heard this one. It became damn clear that if a truce wasn't made, one or the other would create something so powerful and so uncontrolled that everything would be wiped out.
It was all written up and agreed upon. Everyone shook hands, and all current superhumans were... [ a pause. ] ...painlessly, humanely euthanized. Everyone agreed that we'd stop playing God and get back to manufacturing bullets and bombs like sensible human beings.
You can imagine, then, how difficult it was for us when Captain America's body was found. His remains weren't even fully defrosted before he started showing signs of activity, and... [ Tony runs his hand over the shield, resting his palm against the star. ] He would have understood that he was a risk to the American people. He would have agreed with the decision his country made, I believe. The injection was administered before he woke up fully---he just went back to sleep.
The good Captain was buried with full military honors. You can see the footage---the president made a very stirring speech. One of his best ones, I think.
[ he sets the shield aside, turning to look up at the wall behind him. ]
None of us realized what we were starting when we formed the Avengers. We didn't know where the old heroes had disappeared to. We'd grown up on the rosy retellings of the Invaders' adventures---we were spoon-fed heroes as myth, free of the ugly facts. None of us could have foreseen the Pandora's box we were re-opening when we assembled for the first time. We reached far beyond our means, emulating the god-heroes that had never truly existed. We---I---made mistakes, and we paid for them dearly. But we've never lost sight of our goals.
I doubt that you'll believe me, but we did have the best intentions at heart. And, even now, we stick to those same principles that we started with---we work together to achieve goals that none of us could reach on our own. What happened yesterday with Dr. Pym was... [ he seems to work the word around his mouth, finding it to be sour. ] ...unfortunate. Hank's actions reflected his own sickness, not our stance.
Your reactions were murderous. Overblown. You attacked us in our own home, killing several of my teammates. My friends.
You have set the tone for any further interaction between imports and the natives of this world. We will no longer let you go with just a slap on the wrist. We will not negotiate. And if you believe that taking your grievances to the government will help you, you're delusional.
Who do you think made us this way? The government knows exactly who we are, and the president wrote me a blank check to do what I deem best.
We are the Posthumans. One way or another, we will protect our world.
[ooc: replies from Tony will be sporadic at best, because he is a huge douchebag. Enjoy the wall of text. ]