Satisfaction Characters: 919!Tony and OM!Hammer, anyone else that happens by, go for it Setting: S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, then, like, around, man. Content: A bit of a scuffle. Summary: Tony Stark hasn't been taking care of business, so Tony Stark is here to look out for him. He's a good guy like that.
"Mr. Stark is here to see you."
It was absolutely horrifying the amount of work that went into pretending to be yourself, not to mention a version of yourself that didn't seem to utilize any outsourcing. Taking care of this tiny, baby, underdeveloped Stark Enterprises (Tony didn't know how it had earned that name or why the brand needed changing, but he was getting the sense that his doppelganger wasn't as savvy as he should have been. Still an incredibly talented and gorgeous creature, no doubt, but a limp-wristed wimp in the boardroom) was downright exhausting and it hardly left him any time to scrape together a single Iron Man for himself. That was without any apparent ties to this so-called S.H.I.E.L.D. which should have been his most adored time-sink, and was now led by Justin Hammer of all people. It took Tony a moment to recollect how he even knew the name, and only realized when he found a picture of the man's face and had an incredulous laugh at just how different his life had obviously gone. Poor Tony. It was a good thing Tony was here to set things straight.
By the end of the week he still didn't have an Iron Man-- partially his own fault, he accepted, after sinking precious hours into studying the incomplete designs of a MKXXXI that was well outside of his logical ballpark and didn't even seem to utilize the amount of vibranium any of Tony's Iron Men did. It didn't get him anywhere, not without access to Tony's system which was proving mulishly resistant to hacking, even by the creator himself. Sort of. You win this round, Stark. The loss didn't prevent Tony from gaining some due ground, though; Hammer, it turned out, was the absolute worst person to be allowed to flourish. Not only was he Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., he had been monopolizing the weapons development game for years, God knew why, with subpar product and a complete lack of patriotic loyalty. It was obvious that this Tony hadn't skipped over a healthy dose of Extremis, despite missing out on many other fine things in life, so what on Earth was holding him back? A little nudge in the right direction would do him well, so, after a full week of careful deal making and studying, Tony nudged his way downtown to the S.H.I.E.L.D. complex and sweet little park where his fucking Tower was supposed to be. That was due a severe fucking correction as well.
He was a little prickly by the time he stood outside the faux-Director's office but still smiled sweetly at the dear thing managing his mail and the intercom. "Don't worry, he's expecting me," he promised the girl, "Just give him the name." According to Tony's hasty glance over Avengers records and newspaper clippings, he had absolutely no reason to doubt Hammer's prompt and insufferably proud appearance. All Tony had to do was pick himself up off of the girl's desk while she buzzed into his office, straighten his jacket, lift his chin then meet Hammer's eye to propose, "Let's go for a ride."