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Tony Stark is characteristically hyperverbal. (the_iron_man) wrote in avengers_logs, @ 2018-02-08 13:10:00

Current music:

All These Things That I've Done

Who: Tony Stark, Thaddeus Ross
What: Tony Stark vs. Ross vs. Sokovia Accords all the things.
When: After Sharknado ended. Before the Jailbreak.
Rating: Yellow for trash talk, or Tony being Tony.



After killing several sharks and clearing debris from the roadways, Tony was hovering high above the Upper West Side, surveying the scene far below. Hours later, things finally looked to have settled down. A call had been put in to both Damage Control for clean up, and to the disaster relief foundation to house anyone displaced by the damage. The sky was cloudy but calm. That made for some decent flying conditions, even if there was an incoming cold front to contend with.

There was still plenty of time to fly out and say hi to Pep. It would be only a quick flight back to the upstate HQ to swap out this suit for repairs, grab another suit, and go. He was already plotting the course when an incoming call to his personal phone number ruined the roller coaster descent that was his favorite part of flying. Tony rolled his eyes when the photo on the HUD showed up as Secretary of State, Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross. He was tempted to ignore it. Another ring and he gave into that temptation, telling Friday, "Nope! Don't answer."

The ringing stopped and no message was left. A few seconds later, Ross called again. Annoying. Someone clearly wasn't giving up.

"Got my own stalker," Tony grumbled to himself. "Put it through."

"Tony Stark. You and I need to have a conversation."

Ross sounded prickly. Or like a total prick. Tony liked to think it was a fifty-fifty blend of the two.

Figuring he might as well get this conversation out of the way, he replied with, "The one and only. To what do I owe the displeasure."

"Do you know what Facebook Live and Instagram footage is?"

"Sure! Petty much turned everyone into their own TMZ. I used to be huge on TMZ before I settled down."

"Unfortunately, some of us remember that." Ross didn't sound amused. "What you might not realize, is that those videos of you had the rights bought up within minutes. They're all over the global news. That makes us look like we're not upholding our end of the Accord. You and anyone else out there playing superhero? Messed up bad."

"I have enough cheesy one liners for an apology tour. No big."

"No apology tour."

Tony visibly pouted. "That's unfun."

"Even though you were helping civilians? You wrecked the area around the National History Museum."

"I wouldn't say wrecked," Tony countered. "A shark bent a lamppost. I busted it off the rest of the way, so it wasn't a hazard. It was in my hands, so I hit another shark with it. Hi. That's called recycling? You may have heard of it before."

"It's not only you," Ross continued, undaunted. "No visuals, but there's reports of things disappearing into fireworks. Unexplained tremors. Guys with rocket boots and ray guns?"

"Trippy."

"Sightings of Thor, and an unidentified woman riding a flying shark, in the city."

"Bad ass!" He almost laughed because that was so Point Break, and he was going to ply Val with more drinks. "Don't know anything about it, or why they're here. Wish I could've seen it, though?"

Ross was sounding more ticked off by the second. "Shots fired. Arrows pin-cushioned in sharks."

"Robin Hood wannabes? Escapees from a sporting goods store?" It was hard to shrug while flying. "You can't stop sporting goods. C'mon."

"Someone left a gutted great white and what looks like busted up Ikea furnishings all over Park Avenue."

"Ikea's not exactly top of the line, so...wild guess here....pissed off millennial on a budget."

"You got an answer for everything, don't you. You acted without clearance. If you think-"

"Stopping you there," Tony interrupted before Ross could continue. "I did think about it. I think this was a local issue that wasn't going to destroy the planet. It didn't cross international lines. I live here. I think if there's a problem that I can help with, I've bent over backassward to help. I don't know who decided to help out or why, but I'm gonna give them a big thumbs up for minimizing loss of life. You didn't have to roll the National Guard in. You didn't lose men and women when their faces were eaten off by sharks. It's kinda the same as that ferry incident with those alien tech gun runners. I helped. So whatever. Make a call and I'll talk to the security council. I'll say sorry for helping out on TV. Anyone who doesn't like it, can bite my shiny metal ass. Problem solved."

"You wish the problem was solved. You, and whoever else was out there? You've all violated the Accords. There's been phone calls. The security council wants you dealt with. Higher ups gave the green light."

"Oof. No can do. Hot date night."

"Cancel it, smart ass."

"Why? Do you wanna date?" Tony asked, a little too cutely. "I dunno. I'd kinda like someone super buff with a warped sense of humor. You're out of my age range. No offense? Looking for someone younger than you. And hotter. I know, I know. It's a whole mid-life crisis thing."

"Let's see how many more jokes you can make in less than sixty seconds."

"Well, if you're gonna put a time limit on it...."

"We have a problem," Friday said in a hushed uh-oh voice.

The HUD lit up as he was being targeted by two incoming F-22s coming in at him from the north. Really? He barked out a laugh. Been there. Done that. Clung onto the bottom of one, already.

"You send me the nicest things." Tony was already turning in mid-air, because there was little chance of him making it to the headquarters. "Let's have a beer later at that place you liii-...oh wait, I bulldozed it."

"I warned you before that you should've been locked up. I've been praying for a reason to bust you ever since." Clearly Ross didn't like having his dive bar bulldozed. "Now I've got it. Best part is you did this to yourself."

"I'd do it again. You know I filmed that, right? The bar? Watch it every Christmas morning. It's like a present to myself." His eyes were skimming over the HUD screen as he wove through the air, and a few strategic blinks and glances helped him pull up the best flight path trajectories to international waters from the menus. Running his mouth was a great diversion tactic, even if it often dug him into an even deeper hole. "Speaking of presents? Today's your lucky day. I'm gonna wave my normal consultant fee, and give you a free upgrade from Thunderbitch to Thundercunt."

"You're going to make a great cautionary tale, Stark. Maybe we'll finally get the hint across," Ross was saying, his voice deadly serious. Maybe he was triggered by that free upgrade. "You land anywhere on U.S. soil? You're damn lucky all you'll get is locked up. You keep flying? You're going to get shot down. I suggest you listen to reason and land. Pronto."

Tony tried not to roll his eyes. Empty threats. A chat with the President and a donation to the U.N. and this would all blow over. He might as well cue up some good chase music and put these pilots through their paces. Despite getting that chase on, Tony was thinking to himself:

Holy SHIT, I totally fail at following rules. Ok, sit rep. First, I am the worst role model ever. Second, Barton can get fucked, because that bastard's going to laugh his ass off at this for a week. Steve's probably gonna do that head-shake of disappointment thing that I can't stand. Nat might say 'told you so.' Pepper's gonna rage quit me. Bruce isn't even here to say TONY NO, but hey, SUPER SIZED NO because he owes me back robo-baby support after bailing on us. Oh but hey, guess it's all better since I shook hands with the guy that strangled my mom. What is my life even?! I don't know ANYMORE. Giving up. I need to move to Thorway.

"...did you say something about landing or not landing?" Tony asked, realizing Ross was still on the line. "Can't recall. Selective memory. Gotta go figure it out. Buh-bye."

F.R.I.D.A.Y. got the hint and cut the connection. Tony was already tearing away to the south-east, no doubt causing windows to rattle as he broke past the speed of sound. Those windows shook in their sills seconds later as the fighter pilots hit their afterburners. The problem was he was now woefully without any cover in a suit that had already been through When Sharks Attack. They were catching up fast, and there really wasn't anywhere to run other than neutral ground and to try to dodge whatever they aimed at him. That south-east route would also get him away from populated areas and over open water, avoiding the risk of hitting anything on the way down. If he did go down. Doubtful. Outrunning them should be no problem.

It seemed like a good enough plan, until a third fighter came in hot from the right side and banked off at the last second, barely missing him and causing the suit's high speed collision detection to kick in. The suit momentarily careened upward in response, gaining altitude rather than precious distance. It was a classic case of playing chicken. Russians and Chinese pilots did it all the time, a calculated guess at trajectory, coming as close as possible without hitting, requiring nerves of steel. They were trying to rattle his cage, and he had to admit that they were doing a great job so far. He wasn't going to let them knock him off course, though.

Then the bullets started flying.

"....ohcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap," he was chanting to himself, with two fighters on his tail and a third circling around to join in. It wasn't that he hadn't ever been fired upon, because he had. More than once. It kind of tickled. It was more that he knew they were trying to herd him away from the coastline. So by the time fighter jet number four showed up to the party, Tony was sure that the target lock alarm and his litany of 'oh craps' as he weaved to and fro was now the world's worst EDM remix.

Where did they get these guys? Did Ross call up a squadron of Blue Angels? In the back of his mind, he worried that the longer this kept up, that there might be another pilot having to eject with a jammed chute. The longer it went on, the more stubborn he was getting about not giving up, and the more the irony of this situation wasn't lost on him. He knew what sort of jail cell Ross had waiting for him. The kind that was submerged in the middle of the North Atlantic. Not a big deal, but it was his obligation to be an asshole to someone else who was trying to out-asshole him.

"Connect to all ground radar systems and spoof signals to throw off some of their targeting," he ordered, running through last ditch options.

"Attempting multiple brute force connections. You have no remaining mini-missiles and no remaining ammunition. Flares and repulsor blasts are available," Friday quickly informed him, and then kept going with even worse news. "Incoming. Multiple guided missiles locked on target."

There were several blips on the screen. Several. When the weapon type scan came up, he nearly bust a nut at the fact it said HAMMER TECH - TYPE: UNKNOWN.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "That's not a big middle finger or anything!"

Considering they were aimed at him, it probably meant that there was a contract to create something capable of shooting him down, or it was meant for something (or someone) stronger than his suits. Ross really didn't like him. Ross must not like Air Force pilots either, because those things might blow up if an insect splattered against one of them. At this point, Tony realized that maybe - just maybe - Ross really was trying to have the country save face, and uphold the accords he stupidly signed on to. Tony was the single-most high profile target right now. Not to mention a perennial thorn in Ross' side. If the higher ups really did green light this, there was no telling what the government would say to cover their own asses if an actual accident occurred.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit."

Good summary. If there was a Iron Man for Dummies book, it pretty much would be just that one word, spread out over about three hundred and twenty-eight pages. In a large font.

He made another roll for evasive maneuvers while deploying the flares to get the missiles off his tail. The missiles triggered and there was several spectacular explosions far behind him. With a boost from the shock-wave, Tony grinned because they obviously tried launching their full payload, thinking one of them might bring him down. Hammer Tech. What a joke.

Tony started laughing, before abruptly falling silent as he noticed the blip of a missile coming in hot from his right. Another jet had shown up to the party. No flares left. He was already too close into the potential blast radius. He abruptly opened flaps and dropped the power almost completely on the repulsors before impact, essentially doing a stop, drop, and roll. It was better than letting it explode right in his face.

Falling, he raised a gauntlet up and blasted at that last missile. Better to get it off his ass now than later.

Either the drop wasn't fast enough, or Hammer Tech's engineers actually got their shit together after Justin Hammer landed in jail. That missile packed a punch, the explosion shaking every bone in his body so hard that he swore he could feel it rattle his gnashed teeth. The entire suit was slammed into as if struck by a runaway freight train. The sound of it was unforgettable, like the ringing of a large church bell, while the force was enough to knock the air out of his lungs and cause his vision to blur for a couple seconds.

While trying to shake off the ringing in his ears and the urge to pass out, he noticed the now cracked and flickering screen showed him barreling toward water in an uncontrolled descent. No propulsion at all. Tumbling head over heels. There was nothing but a beckoning dark sea ahead. Even as fast as they had been going, he was still just shy of reaching international waters. Close, but no cigar.

This was bad.

"...Friday?"

Very bad.

"Already rerouting power!" the A.I. responded. The number of feet he was losing per second began scrolling by at an alarming rate. Three repulsors sputtered and kicked back on. "Emergency countermeasures initiated."

While the system maneuvered for a crash landing he could hobble away from, his mind was crunching numbers and it still wouldn't be enough to rule out a whole lot of ouch.

Water closing in, Tony managed to wheeze out, "Keep me afloat?"

"Always," Friday reassured him.

Yep.

This was going to leave a mark.