tsukinofaerii (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tsukinofaerii) wrote2009-08-16 01:04 am
tsukinofaerii) wrote2009-08-16 01:04 am
Entry tags:
(shouldn't be posting this >.>)
SHHH. Be vewwy vewwy qwuiet. This isn't beta'd yet. Marvel Adventures, 1,000 words. (facepalm)
Tony hated beginners.
Everyone had to be a novice at one point or another, even villains. Tony could only accept that. At one point, even he had been so new to the super hero game that he thought solid gold armor wasn't only stylish, it was necessary for public relations. He'd learned his lesson, and most villains do too. Eventually. It was the ones who never moved past the "teenage boy in his parents' basement" stage of villainy that made him hate handling new comers.
Point in example, the person holding him hostage. He hadn't done too badly on the costume: black on black, no cape, domino mask. Very nice, very classic. In everything else, though, he hadn't even tried. Not only had he missed the memo that Tony was Iron Man—and how that happened when it was all over the news for years was just another indication of a basement-born evil-doer—but he'd also created his own weapon out of what looked like Mountain Dew cans and an old radio. Couldn't he have at least spray painted it? Ten bucks at Wal*Mart and Tony might not have felt embarrassed by his would-be kidnapper.
Even the cult thing had been better, and they'd worshiped snakes.
"Where's Iron Man?" the kid screamed, and oh God, his voice actually cracked. "You've got ten minutes, Stark! Cough him up!
Three minutes until the Avengers arrived, courtesy of the distress signal he'd sent out actually, but who was counting? "I told you. I am Iron Man." Tony kept his hands behind his head, back to the bank of windows that comprised an entire wall of his office. "You want him, you've got him!" Whoever let the schmuck through security was getting fired with extreme prejudice. Tony might even kick him or her out personally.
"Where's the armor then, huh?" The kid laughed and almost dislodged his mask and yep, there was the acne. "You just play it up for the news. No way you're a super hero."
"I don't exactly wear the armor to board meetings. Well, most board meetings." While his attacker was distracted, Tony tried taking a step sideways, but the gun barrel rose again almost immediately. Outside, the distinctive sound of Quinjet engines carried through the windows. "Look, what is it you want? This doesn't have to get ugly."
"I'm going to destroy Iron Man." The kid grinned.
Before Tony could do anything—like laugh, which was at the high point of possibilities—his phone rang with the cheery jingle he'd assigned to Giant Girl. He reached for it, and the muzzle of the weapon jerked. "Look," he growled, finally running out of patience, "if I don't answer, someone's going to get suspicious. Shoot me if you don't like what I say." While the villain—they needed a less dignified phrase for guys like this—thought that over, he grabbed the phone in his pocket and flipped it open. "Stark."
"Hi, Tony!" Jan's voice was as perky as always. Tony turned around to see the pointy end of the Quinjet through the windows. Spiderman waved. "Cap says duck in three, two— oh, no count down? That sucks. Just duck, then."
He ducked.
The teenage would-be super villain had just enough time to shout and shoot out a warning shot from his weapon before the Quinjet started taking out the windows. Tony rolled, dodging the neon-blue blast by a hair's breadth. Something minty tingled over his skin as glass rained down.
And he'd just replaced those windows, too.
By the time Tony finished rolling to his feet, the fight was already over. Wolverine had the kid at claw-point. Clearly, the kid didn't know about the whole "no clawing living things" rule, which was a good thing since it kept him from struggling while Spiderman webbed his hands. Cap oversaw the whole thing with an air of proprietary amusement. Storm and Giant Girl hadn't even bothered to leave the jet. They must have left Bruce at home, since there was no sign of either him or his green alter ego.
Giant Girl had popcorn, making Tony's humiliation complete.
"Thank you, Avengers," he sighed, because that's what you said when you were just rescued, even if it was from a punk with a homemade toy. "You saved me, yadda yadda, did anyone call the police yet?"
Steve turned to look at him, then immediately blushed bright red and looked away again. "Tony!"
That was weird. Well, weirder than usual. "What?"
"I think, Iron Man," Ororo began in her I-Am-Laughing-On-The-Inside Voice, "you may wish to.... cover yourself."
Jan was less reserved in her response. "Hey, do you shave or wax?"
That was when Tony noticed the draft. The weapon had completely dissolved his clothing, all the way down to the skin. He covered himself as fully as he could, but he only had two hands and there was a lot of skin.
"I'm not looking!" Peter announced loudly from where he was applying yet another layer of webbing to the villain's hands. It was already the size of a volleyball. "No matter what you say, I'm not looking!"
Without taking his eyes from the ceiling, Captain America held out his shield. Tony flashed him a grateful smile and accepted, holding it in front of him. There were bits of his clothing scattered all around; his suit had been reduced down to rags. He started sifting through the scraps, hoping to find something big enough to wrap around his hips. "I guess his weapon wasn't that dangerous after all, huh?"
"Guess not. I—" Steve's usually masculine voice reached new and squeaky levels. "What's that on —is that— why is my symbol on your back, Tony?"
Tony's hand slapped over the tattoo as Jan started laughing. "It's a really, really long story. Really long. Just—gigantic. Hours and hours gigantic."
"I... okay. Just— okay." Never before had Captain America sounded so terrified. Tony doubled his search for a large piece of fabric. "We'll just—Spiderman! Do you need help with the prisoner?" Jan's laughter got louder.
Tony had been mistaken. Now his humiliation was complete.
He really hates beginners.
Tony hated beginners.
Everyone had to be a novice at one point or another, even villains. Tony could only accept that. At one point, even he had been so new to the super hero game that he thought solid gold armor wasn't only stylish, it was necessary for public relations. He'd learned his lesson, and most villains do too. Eventually. It was the ones who never moved past the "teenage boy in his parents' basement" stage of villainy that made him hate handling new comers.
Point in example, the person holding him hostage. He hadn't done too badly on the costume: black on black, no cape, domino mask. Very nice, very classic. In everything else, though, he hadn't even tried. Not only had he missed the memo that Tony was Iron Man—and how that happened when it was all over the news for years was just another indication of a basement-born evil-doer—but he'd also created his own weapon out of what looked like Mountain Dew cans and an old radio. Couldn't he have at least spray painted it? Ten bucks at Wal*Mart and Tony might not have felt embarrassed by his would-be kidnapper.
Even the cult thing had been better, and they'd worshiped snakes.
"Where's Iron Man?" the kid screamed, and oh God, his voice actually cracked. "You've got ten minutes, Stark! Cough him up!
Three minutes until the Avengers arrived, courtesy of the distress signal he'd sent out actually, but who was counting? "I told you. I am Iron Man." Tony kept his hands behind his head, back to the bank of windows that comprised an entire wall of his office. "You want him, you've got him!" Whoever let the schmuck through security was getting fired with extreme prejudice. Tony might even kick him or her out personally.
"Where's the armor then, huh?" The kid laughed and almost dislodged his mask and yep, there was the acne. "You just play it up for the news. No way you're a super hero."
"I don't exactly wear the armor to board meetings. Well, most board meetings." While his attacker was distracted, Tony tried taking a step sideways, but the gun barrel rose again almost immediately. Outside, the distinctive sound of Quinjet engines carried through the windows. "Look, what is it you want? This doesn't have to get ugly."
"I'm going to destroy Iron Man." The kid grinned.
Before Tony could do anything—like laugh, which was at the high point of possibilities—his phone rang with the cheery jingle he'd assigned to Giant Girl. He reached for it, and the muzzle of the weapon jerked. "Look," he growled, finally running out of patience, "if I don't answer, someone's going to get suspicious. Shoot me if you don't like what I say." While the villain—they needed a less dignified phrase for guys like this—thought that over, he grabbed the phone in his pocket and flipped it open. "Stark."
"Hi, Tony!" Jan's voice was as perky as always. Tony turned around to see the pointy end of the Quinjet through the windows. Spiderman waved. "Cap says duck in three, two— oh, no count down? That sucks. Just duck, then."
He ducked.
The teenage would-be super villain had just enough time to shout and shoot out a warning shot from his weapon before the Quinjet started taking out the windows. Tony rolled, dodging the neon-blue blast by a hair's breadth. Something minty tingled over his skin as glass rained down.
And he'd just replaced those windows, too.
By the time Tony finished rolling to his feet, the fight was already over. Wolverine had the kid at claw-point. Clearly, the kid didn't know about the whole "no clawing living things" rule, which was a good thing since it kept him from struggling while Spiderman webbed his hands. Cap oversaw the whole thing with an air of proprietary amusement. Storm and Giant Girl hadn't even bothered to leave the jet. They must have left Bruce at home, since there was no sign of either him or his green alter ego.
Giant Girl had popcorn, making Tony's humiliation complete.
"Thank you, Avengers," he sighed, because that's what you said when you were just rescued, even if it was from a punk with a homemade toy. "You saved me, yadda yadda, did anyone call the police yet?"
Steve turned to look at him, then immediately blushed bright red and looked away again. "Tony!"
That was weird. Well, weirder than usual. "What?"
"I think, Iron Man," Ororo began in her I-Am-Laughing-On-The-Inside Voice, "you may wish to.... cover yourself."
Jan was less reserved in her response. "Hey, do you shave or wax?"
That was when Tony noticed the draft. The weapon had completely dissolved his clothing, all the way down to the skin. He covered himself as fully as he could, but he only had two hands and there was a lot of skin.
"I'm not looking!" Peter announced loudly from where he was applying yet another layer of webbing to the villain's hands. It was already the size of a volleyball. "No matter what you say, I'm not looking!"
Without taking his eyes from the ceiling, Captain America held out his shield. Tony flashed him a grateful smile and accepted, holding it in front of him. There were bits of his clothing scattered all around; his suit had been reduced down to rags. He started sifting through the scraps, hoping to find something big enough to wrap around his hips. "I guess his weapon wasn't that dangerous after all, huh?"
"Guess not. I—" Steve's usually masculine voice reached new and squeaky levels. "What's that on —is that— why is my symbol on your back, Tony?"
Tony's hand slapped over the tattoo as Jan started laughing. "It's a really, really long story. Really long. Just—gigantic. Hours and hours gigantic."
"I... okay. Just— okay." Never before had Captain America sounded so terrified. Tony doubled his search for a large piece of fabric. "We'll just—Spiderman! Do you need help with the prisoner?" Jan's laughter got louder.
Tony had been mistaken. Now his humiliation was complete.
He really hates beginners.