|Tony Stark (in_extremis) wrote in oh_marvelous,|
@ 2012-07-30 13:57:00
|Entry tags:||z: om1: !complete, z: om1: character: pietro lehnsherr, z: om1: character: tony stark, z: om1: character: wanda maximoff, z: om1: location: new york, z: om1: past character: clint barton|
Characters: Tony, Wanda, Clint? Pietro? OTA?
Setting: The island of misfit toys. Er, Wanda's house.
Summary: The beast emerges from his lair. With treasure!
The sun was startling. Not that it hadn't occurred to Tony that it continued to rise and set without him, he had Pepper reminding him of that whenever she was given the chance to get the words out, but he was sure it didn't used to be so bright. The sunglasses he wore weren't enough to stop him squinting behind them, and by the time he lingered on Wanda's stoop his jacket was already over his arm and collar unbuttoned. It wasn't that he expected anyone to answer his ringing anyway, nor did he find the courage to try to call any of the reported residents for certainty than none would answer even after he had arrived. So he sat on the steps, rolled up his sleeves and waited, considering all of the days he'd wasted indoors rather than working on his tan when the beaches must have been absolutely barren this summer. At least he had accomplished a few things. The minimal environmental impact of the iodide flares thus far had led to some major wildfire relief breakthroughs, not to mention drought and famine turnarounds for India and the Sudan, as long as Tony's long-term projections were correct, and they always were. The nanoclouds healed plastics seamlessly now and were already in trials to fuse living tissue, and though that had been going poorly it would just take a few tweaks to make the burning smell go away. As for the actual burning, that would be a little more work. Come to think of it, the clouds might be applied better as migrating energy sources. Queue: peak out heat production and record findings. Stand at ready with fire extinguisher. Seal lab in case of catastrophic event.
Shit, he hadn't even shaved, had he? Was that why the concierge hadn't let him in? Tony scratched his stubbled cheek and glared accusingly at his fingers before dropping his arm back to the step in defeat, considering giving up this vigil and just slipping his project with a note into the mailbox. That couldn't be terribly unsafe, could it? This was so much easier when they lived together and Tony could just leave things for Avengers where they would find them. Maybe that was a sign; he wasn't an Avenger anymore, he shouldn't expect to have that right. He drummed his fingers on the briefcase at his side and lifted his arm again to check a watch that he wasn't wearing, guessing he had been waiting approximately twenty-two point oh seven minutes. God, that was forever, where was the nearest Starbucks? If this happy little trio that Jan had told him moved in here didn't live within a block of a Starbucks, that was a serious downgrade. They might as well have been camping. Tony might just fit in here, then, with his unmanaged beard and forgotten watch. The guy sitting on the pavement across the street with a sleeping bag certainly looked familiar. Twenty-three point zero. There would be fresh coffee waiting by the time he got back to Long Island, anyway, probably faster than a line at the shop would move if the skies were clear, and Tony could get back to work, or at least reevaluate his hygiene routine and figure out what else he might have skipped being so out of practice. He should have talked to Pepper more. He shouldn't have been ignoring everyone so much. But he had work to do and nothing to show for it yet. The case at his side wasn't some life-changing solution to their problems; Magneto was still out there, S.H.I.E.L.D. was still a mess, and half the team was living in the Flatiron District. At least they weren't sitting on the street.