Tony Stark (in_extremis) wrote in oh_marvelous, @ 2009-12-04 12:39:00 |
|
|||
Renovation
Characters: Avengers
Setting: Evening, Stark Tower! Woo!
Content: Do I really need to warn you about language?
Summary: The Avengers, now with 70% less S.H.I.E.L.D.! Or: Tony is a total dick.
From this height, it was easy to see the scope of the wreckage. Glittering Manhattan was a pile of broken glass, pockmarked and ruined, flecked with the gold of its easily torn glory. It would be rebuilt, and it would become easy to forget, but looking down on the black crater where the Hulk was meant to die then felt like this Apocalyptic image would remain crisp and clear for ages to come.
There was a photograph of that crater, shot by some patient photographer from the Bugle or the Post, that would be published in the National Geographic 50 years from now; the moment it was on the front page, it was on the internet, and it became the iconic image of the battle for New York City. There was smoke billowing in the background, lit by a fire that burned through the night, the orange flames just peaking around the shadows and dropping away into the empty blackness of that charred pit. At the edge of the picture, the last view of a rescue worker carrying a stretcher, which they would be at for days finding the dead under the debris up until the memorial for the 892 lost. And at the other side, barely more than a dark smudge against the flames, a boy clutching the edge of his cape, kneeling where the pavement cracked and dropped away. He had certainly found a way to leave his mark on this dimension.
Tony stared down at the smeared face of Manhattan, hands folded behind his back, straight and unmoving, until the sunset made him squint in its brilliant red light. Turning away from the window was like culture shock; to the all white and pristine ready canvas of what was supposed to be his penthouse, his new home in his old home New York City, waiting for its first life. Paintings leaned against walls where they were meant to be hung, wires looped from ceilings and walls, widths and placements of furniture were marked. That was all going to be gone, too, though. This space had a new purpose. They should have been on their way up just now.
He collected his helmet, set by his foot, and Iron Man waited with the sunset turning his armor orange behind him.