[OPEN] Listen as the crowd would sing

[liverletdie]

WHO: Tony Stark and YOU
WHERE: Everywhere
WHEN: Throughout the pullpoint plot
WHAT: Actual piece of shit Tony Stark
WARNINGS: Likely. Will add as they come up.



❮ DAY 1 | ALL LOCATIONS ❯

He'd always thought he was immune to power fluctuations. He'd certainly protected himself against things like EMP blasts. He'd certainly safeguarded his sensitive nanites -- the part of him that made him more than the average human -- he'd made sure that he wouldn't fall victim to something that would hurt him ever again. Ever since the EMP blast back in the City, it was a concern. But that didn't mean the after-effects were so easily wiped away. Or ignored. Slaked off like rain on a tin -- or in this case iron -- roof. Instead, the after-effects were what he had to worry about, but it was so minor, so small, it felt like no change at all. Like a shift in awareness more than anything else.

The suit he was working on -- just another one of his multiples for use -- the shift was enough for him to decide painting it wouldn't be necessary. Bright was better, right? Maybe an adjustment here or there. It wasn't the same -- not the same at all -- without the symbiote attached, but with old and new memories coming into a sharp clarity -- he understood that the porter wouldn't be such a kind benefactor. He was fortunate he had even this low-grade, backwards, old version of the extremis virus. He could have gone with none, couldn't he? No symbiote, but that wasn't really a concern. He wouldn't have the same worry, would he? Nobody knew here -- he didn't have to worry about Murdock investigating, he didn't have to worry about Potts and her interference, or -- himself -- he took a quick mental scan. Something to sift through file after file, looking for backup after backup, but there was nothing. Absolutely clean and clear.

The finishing touches were revealed in the morning -- he'd worked through the night to finish, but it was easy when your lab was built to respond to every thought, every touch, every idle direction -- it was beautiful, how his brain could predict his needs even now. It was how he spent Sunday -- Easter Sunday -- soaring over a good portion of the import cities. All of them. He didn't need one suit -- he had multiples. Three -- in Nonah, Heropa, and Maurtia falls, he unfortunately had to use relics from a past. Red and gold frame that soared over the sky, watching with renewed eyes, transmitting directly into his visual cortex. De Chima, he was in personally, white chrome that reflected the concrete and steel beneath him. In each one, there was little trouble, but that didn't keep him from stopping occasionally, looking around -- each suit would stop periodically -- it was like he was there personally, in each one. He'd look around, before he took off again, eventually finding trouble only later at night, a random mugger or two -- surprisingly quiet, all things considered.

Then again, he wasn't there to stop crimes. He was observing the lay of the land with renewed eyes.

❮ DAY 2 | DE CHIMA [CLOSED TO FREDERICK CHILTON] ❯

The restaurant he'd invited the psychiatrist was on the expensive side. Exceptionally expensive side. With a full bar and some of the priciest food that small plates could hold. The kind of place that screamed "status" in a way Chilton would likely appreciate more than going just anywhere. Inside, the conversation was low, the kind of place where business deals happened, and the upper-crust looked down on the waiters, even if they never said a word.

Stark leaned back in his chair, casual and relaxed, evaluating. He'd read his book -- the one about Walter White -- a quick skim, and then a second and third skim just to be sure. It took him all of 3 minutes. Sometimes he wondered why he'd been pretending at all. There was no point, it held him back. He watched Chilton with sharp eyes, the confident curl of his lips was probably too self-satisfied, too all-knowing, but he couldn't wipe it off his face. He didn't suffer embarrassment easily, for certain.

"Have you decided what you'd like? They have a surprisingly large selection -- normally places like this are restricted, don't you think?"

He knew what he was getting. A thumb brushed against the liquor selection on the menu.

❮ DAY 3 | DE CHIMA TECH CONFERENCE ❯

The plan originally had been to talk about the projected StarkPhone and its peripherals, but... that was so petty, wasn't it? Another consumer electronics when there was capital here to be worked with. Why not do something big? Why not do something outlandish? Different. Something to shock and awe -- to make the world stand up and listen to not just him but the imports as a whole. He'd been twiddling his thumbs, he'd been sitting on his laurels, and doing nothing that would actually achieve. Doing nothing that would make an impact or a difference. Nothing that would change the damn future he so strongly protected.

That had to change, didn't it?

"I'd like to thank you all for coming out here today," he opened, before launching into a long speech about StarkTech's direction. It was a nice one, too. All about improving and changing the future. The direction they could take in that -- pharmaceuticals, human improvement, using technology to make humanity better. To improve and empower -- that was the key. He grinned, when he said that. The logo was only an "E" -- he'd deal with it later. This was a stump speech, a preliminary proposal. Full of hope, teases, and no solid details. He'd have to refine the formula first.

" -- And if you have questions, feel free to ask them. Now, or... one on one during the little soirée I've arranged. No need to have one of these things if we can't enjoy ourselves, am I right?"

Of course he was. He already knew he was right. He always was.

❮ DAY 4-6 | VARIOUS ❯

The rest of the week was almost a blur. Alternated between time spent in StarkTech -- inventing or dealing with investors, storming the hallways and looking like a man on a mission -- or going through meetings, a glass of champagne or a martini in hand like it was normal. Few had dared to even point that out, but one look normally quieted them. If he wasn't at StarkTech, he was out. Either at bars or nightclubs, a gathering readily, he threw his money out like it was water, amassing crowds to dance and drink with -- and follow him home.

Or, during the day, he might be found soaring over the Cities, in white-chrome armor, never painted and polished so it reflected the world back from him, stopping everything from petty crime to just standing around, speaking with the media, citizens, anyone who'd listen -- always magnanimous and pleasant -- the smile on his face was, perhaps, only slightly friendly.

[ Please feel free to tag in with whatever! If you'd like to work something out, you can always find me on plurk @hundreds! ]

Comments

various

[incogneto]

Erik has somehow managed to carve out some time in Tony's undoubtedly busy schedule to find him and have a private meeting. Well. Private as in, distracted the others long enough to take a seat next to him by the bar. He hasn't spoken to Tony in what seems like ages, though from how the neighborhoods haven't changed, he can surmise that it hasn't been altogether that long.

Really, he kind of just wants to know what the hell Tony thinks he's doing.

"Mr. Stark," he greets, taking a seat. And he thinks Tony has no idea who he is-- and he probably doesn't. But Erik also resembles what Tony might remember him to be - a lot more than, say, what he looked like last week. "You've been busy."

Day 3

[excessivehubris]

Right.

Had everybody lost their minds?

At this point, Charles was beginning to worry about the Russians again, though there had been no noises from the American government so he wasn't sure what to think. But something was not right and it was beginning to give him one hell of a headache.

This meeting, for instance.

Tony was saying all the right things, it was just the emphasis with which he threw out certain words and the look in his eyes as he spoke that left Charles with a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was as if he'd missed a page of the memo, somewhere along the line.

When the meeting (call it what it was, a chance to pontificate) was over, Charles rolled himself along towards Stark. He had to stop a couple of times to speak to people who were unable to get into Tony's sphere of influence but who wished to talk to someone associated with Stark Tech. For the most part their comments were excited and positive, which should have left Charles feeling upbeat but instead, served only to sink him further into a pit of concern.

Eventually, he made his way through the crowd and towards Tony. For the time being, he smiled as he drew the chair to a stop.

"That was quite the stirring, if off the cuff, speech you delivered, my friend."

Day 002

[slightlyoffchilt]

Chilton was to status symbols as a bee was to nectar. The invitation to such an establishment, well, that alone had skipped his heart a beat -- company be damned. As Chilton believed, certain couture restaurants behaved like country clubs, and while superficially they would hold the pretense of an open opportunity environment (provided that you had the right amount of money), the reality was a whole different creature. It wasn't the trust fund those places wanted, it was the trust in blood.

Blue blood, to be precise. Something beyond Chilton's uncanny fake it 'til you make it success story. He didn't have the right stuff within him for such exclusivity.

Well not anymore. Tony Stark offered his coattails.

"Oh -- actually, no. But I was looking at what is best paired with the swordfish."

Was it insensitive to imply a white wine in front of sober Tony Stark? Formally alcoholic Tony Stark? Probably not, rationalized the psychiatrist. Even if the apparent selfishness did irritate Tony, the man could repress a lot; that was something quickly discovered when they were both courting Karla Sofen. Tony Stark was a maestro at ignoring his own feelings, and Chilton had few qualms equally ignoring Tony's feelings.

It was a sign of respect.

"Am I allowed to ask, now? Why we are here? Is it because you've read my book?"

Chilton often assumed that was why people invited him places now.

Day 3

[flowerette]

With an anniversary between herself and Chilton fast approaching, Raina had an idea of the gift she wanted to get him. She racked her mind when it came to the technological savvy imPorts and found that Tony Stark was the imPort who came to the forefront of her thoughts. She had yet to meet the man -- choosing to admire him from afar. He was an Avenger, a dangerous man and one who associated with Skye. And Raina certainly didn't want to give Skye any power to turn such a big name against her.

But considering this conference was happening in the city she worked in, Raina found this to be the perfect opportunity to approach Mr. Stark. It was a simple project. One that wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things. One she could pay for and one she knew was in the scope of his capabilities. There would be no harm in talking to him. A simple request would not make her seem like the terrible person Skye had no doubt implied she was.

Yet as she blended into the crowd and listened to his impassioned speech -- she found his words odd yet empowering. What exactly did he mean? What direction did he wish to go in? What was this talk about technology improving or empowering? Raina watched as people bombarded him with questions, keeping to herself until she had the opportunity to approach him (perhaps working up the nerve to do so at the same time). And when she finally stood before him, it was with near reverie. This was Tony Stark, after all.

"Mr. Stark. I'm not certain if you know who I am..." She was only just a drop in this imPort collection. But she certainly knew him -- was her implication. "My name is Raina. I couldn't help but be fascinated by the speech you gave."

4/02

[superposition]

Qubit had spent a good portion of the week tracking down temporal disturbances with some experimental equipment he and the Doctor had dashed together. But by the time he'd gotten the precision tuned finely enough to narrow the source to "somewhere within a hundred-odd miles of De Chima," the disturbances themselves, growing weaker with every second that passed since the event, were getting difficult to pick up. What brought him to StarkTech was that and a hunch - Newt and Hermann were the first people he'd been able to confirm were affected, so maybe their workplace would have clues as to how it happened. Or be how it happened, for that matter. What went on behind those doors was something of a mystery. But there wasn't much, if anything, to make the place actually suspect. It really was just a hunch.

And so it was that an employee of Starrware came to snoop around a competitor's headquarters, on a Saturday, scanning the area with a handheld device not unlike a tricorder, without making any real effort to hide it. Evidently, he forgot to consider how bad that might look in context.