mrtonystark (mrtonystark) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-09-28 12:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, t'challa (black panther), tony stark (iron man) |
Who: T’Challa and Tony Stark
When: During the Shattered Plot
Where: Stark Tower Lobby
What: T’Challa is upset with Tony because of the Dreams...
Rating/Warnings: Some violence
Status: Complete
It went beyond sense, T'Challa knew somewhere in the back of his mind, but it seemed like the natural thing to do as he left his house that morning. Natural in the sense that he was having emotions bleeding over from the dream he'd had last night; his position as Black Panther and leader of his people, as well as husband to a mutant woman, had him riding a high of nationalism and a fierce sense of protectiveness.
It was why, despite all logic, he'd donned the Black Panther outfit and driven himself to Stark Industries HQ. He had a bone to pick and felt it necessary to do so as the Black Panther, dream world-husband to the mutant Storm.
He now stood just outside the front doors. Looking up at the impossibly tall skyscraper he huffed with disgust, "Overcompensation much?" He tapped at the collar of his catsuit and the Panther mask seemingly grew out of it, weaving its way around T'Challa's head until the cat shaped mask was complete. This was high technology beyond even Stark's comprehension. The tall African pushed through the doors and readied himself for some resistance from security.
Wouldn’t you know it, but Tony Stark himself was actually standing in the lobby of Stark Tower, delivering some paperwork to the receptionist there. An errand for Pepper before he was planning on running out to the food truck so conveniently parked outside and grab lunch. He turned when the security personnel did, and took in the sight of…
Damn. Was this some strange Villain from his Dreams? Tony wasn’t looking forward to whatever this interaction was going to be. But he stepped forward before the Security could, holding up one hand to stop them. “How can I help you?”
T’Challa was in no mood for talk. Beneath the mask his eyes narrowed in anger as the object of his wrath stood before him. “Tony Stark. How dare you!” He shouted, pointing with a claw tipped hand. The mask was able to project his voice perfectly as if he had nothing covering his face at all. “You would have the gall to support a law, in this country of all places, that would dare to throw freedom and civil rights back decades?! You’re nothing more than a self serving son of a bitch!” And with that proclamation, the man in the panther suit made a run for the billionaire.
So, Tony really had no idea what was going on here. There was some dude in a mask in the lobby, yelling at him about… laws? Tony inclined his head, trying to figure all of this out. But then… crap, Security was stepping forward--rushing forward, actually--and Tony was a bit defenseless.
Well, not entirely. He could summon his suit. He had the chips implanted, he knew the signals. But… for what? Who was this guy??
“Hold it, hold it, hold it, hold it!” Tony said, backing up a few steps and lifting his arms. He made a motion to summon his suit--but it would take a couple of minutes to come down from its storage upstairs in the lab. “Wait, we should talk this over.”
T’Challa was making fast work of Stark’s security guards, flipping and tossing them like ragdolls, and dodging their attacks with nimble ease. He was making it look like childsplay.
“There is no talking this over, Stark!” He replied, punching a guard hard in the gut and then tossing him away before spinning around to kick the gun out of the hand of another. He pulled out his energy daggers, purple glowing devices sent from his dreams. They crackled with pure energy as he wielded them.
The woman behind the desk was calling 911 on her headset, now, and other passers-by were fleeing into the elevators and the back exits. Tony was doing his best to stay calm, holding one hand up in a calming gesture. (It was also the position that his suit would need to find the chips implanted under his skin.)
“You don’t need to be throwing around my Security Personnel like that, man,” Tony called out to the masked figure. “This is between you and me. Whoever you are.”
"I am the Black Panther and the last face you'll see before oblivion." he started to charge, but stopped short as metal pieces suddenly cut him off; he watched for a moment as they zoomed through the lobby, heading straight towards Stark.
“Finally.” Tony said, holding up his arms so the suit could come and envelope him piece by piece. “Took you guys long enough.”
It was truly spectacular. People who had been cowering at the sight of the masked figure all turned to stare as Tony Stark literally transformed in front of their eyes. One moment he was the CEO of Stark Enterprises, and the next he was Iron Man.
He held up one arm and pointed at the Black Panther. “Now. Let’s talk about this like civilised superheroes.”
T’Challa knew Iron Man from his dreams. He’d fought alongside him in a number of battles, so the warrior was familiar with his ways. He straightened up and switched off the daggers, but didn’t put them away. He started to walk calmly up to the man, knowing full well an obvious assault would only get him blasted across the spacious lobby by repulsors.
“Yes, let us talk.” he said simply, until he was close enough to just be in striking distance. “Let us discuss how you felt it necessary to pass the Superhero Registration Act, forcing superheroes and mutants alike, including my wife’s people, to have to register with the government as if they were some sort of threat needing to be monitored.”
Behind the Iron Man mask, Tony’s eyebrows shot up. The Superhero Registration Act? He’d never heard of such a thing. It sounded… very strange. Why would he want to do something like that? The thrusters in his hands clicked on and warmed up with a humm.
“I’m not sure who you think I am, but I haven’t done such a thing.” Tony said, trying to sound calm. He wanted the security guards to back off. One of them lowered his weapon. The rest followed suit hesitantly.
"I know precisely who you are!" T'Challa shouted, fury rising in him. "Lie all you want, Stark, to try to save face. It won't do you any good." He then thrust an arm forward, switching on the dagger at the same time. The glowing blade bit into the metal like butter, and he drove the dagger up, slicing a sizeable gash in Tony's armor from the ribcage to chest along his side. He didn't know how to work the energy daggers well enough, however, (he'd only used them against Stephen briefly the other day in another fit of testosterone fueled anger) and so the blade didn't go as deep as it could have. T'Challa kicked hard against Tony's chest with a snarl.
Tony took a couple of steps backward at the slash and kick, then glanced down at the display informing him of the damage to his suit. God. Damn. It. His precious suit! He sighed, and shook his armored head. “And just who’s gonna pay for this damage, hmm?” He asked, then kicked on the thrusters and shot up into the air. He could quite easily maneuver around the man in black and shoot out of the lobby onto the street. He wanted to take this fight away from Stark Tower. Actually, he wanted to bail on it all together.
T'Challa gave chase, his speed remarkable for a man of his stature. Sprinting outside, he leapt in a single parkour style bound onto the top of the food truck.
“This is not a fight you want to have,” Tony was hovering up out of reach. He put some more distance between himself and the crazy dude in the mask. “You want to go home and sleep this off, man. I don’t want to hurt you. And I can guarantee that if you stay here, the police will come and cart you off.”
Black Panther pointed one of his daggers at the man in the flying metal suit as he spoke;"It is because of the dreams that this is precisely the fight I wish to have!" T'Challa barked back from the roof of the truck, oblivious to the stares of disbelief from the people on the street. Suddenly the obsidian hilted dagger spat a series of purple flashes and T'Challa watched as they flew wildly, some striking Tony's armor in bright glances, leaving scorch marks in their wake, while two others missed completely. Well, that was new, he thought.
“Those dreams aren’t real.” Tony called out, then frowned as the … purple flashes… whatever they were… bounced off his armor. “Dude, seriously. I’m not going to fight you. You need to back off. And stop hitting my armor. You have any idea how much this kind of damage costs?”
"They are real enough." T'Challa countered. "Whether they be an alternate life in a parallel world or a past life, can you truly discount them as worthless, or did you just coincidentally invent the very suit you fly in?" The fact Tony was unwilling to fight was frustrating to no end. "You and your money. Even here you fuss over it and your toys like a child! Will you fight me or just hover there like a coward?"
“Just because those Dreams give us gifts, because we have those experiences, doesn’t mean we’re those same people. That we’re going to be those same people.” Tony called down to him. “I. am. not. going. to. fight. you.” He repeated. “How many times am I going to have to say it? You should pick up your knives and go home. Think twice about coming back.” Then Tony turned around in the air and shot up into the sky.