http://browncoatdevil.livejournal.com/ (
browncoatdevil.livejournal.com) wrote in
trans_92010-03-20 12:10 am
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Some Beach... [Totally OPEN!]
It was going to be like the much needed vacation stuck on a ship with people from all forms of live in the middle of the Black. What better way to take a quick break than to go to the sensoriums and ask Stacy for the most tropical place that she could think of that was crew friendly? It was perfect. That was all Gwen could say as she stretched out on her beach chair soaking up fake sun resting on the fake sand as the fake crystal blue water lapped at the empty beach.
Okay sure none of it was real but it was as close as the red head could get and she was going to enjoy every single minute of it. The fact that there was plenty of room for others to come and enjoy it was just what she possibly thought everyone needed. So Gwen had sent out a text over the waves for people to come on up and bring their sunscreen for the fun that could be had. There was a wetbar not far up nestled under the large palm trees and tropical plants with their own virtual bar tender, heck there was even a place to rent a surfboard or boogieboard if no one was daring enough to test the waves. Thankfully she had asked Stacy to leave the sharks out. No one wanted to reenact the movie Jaws while they were there.. she hoped. Even an empty volleyball court was just down the way waiting on someone to take up a game or three.
Everything was... perfect.
With a pleased little smile Gwen settled back against her chair only adjusting the large sunglasses once. Yep. This was the life.
Okay sure none of it was real but it was as close as the red head could get and she was going to enjoy every single minute of it. The fact that there was plenty of room for others to come and enjoy it was just what she possibly thought everyone needed. So Gwen had sent out a text over the waves for people to come on up and bring their sunscreen for the fun that could be had. There was a wetbar not far up nestled under the large palm trees and tropical plants with their own virtual bar tender, heck there was even a place to rent a surfboard or boogieboard if no one was daring enough to test the waves. Thankfully she had asked Stacy to leave the sharks out. No one wanted to reenact the movie Jaws while they were there.. she hoped. Even an empty volleyball court was just down the way waiting on someone to take up a game or three.
Everything was... perfect.
With a pleased little smile Gwen settled back against her chair only adjusting the large sunglasses once. Yep. This was the life.
no subject
"It's a ship, a status symbol, whatever. Mine was basically a floating mansion. Pools, cinema, massage parlour, ballroom- the works."
He shrugged, raking a hand through his hair as he looked out over the artificial ocean.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
That, and the sand was warm, the artificial sea breeze calming, and he didn't have anywhere else to go.
"The rise and fall of Tony Stark? Sure, it's a story," he agreed, settling down with a satisfied sigh. "Great one, really. Plenty of action, suspense, twists, turns..."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Okay. So our story begins with a rather handsome kid, son of legendary weapons developer Howard Stark. He's building circuit boards by age four, engines by age six. I don't know if you're read up on humans enough for that to be suitably impressive, but take my word for it- certified genius. Off the scale, and you'd better believe he's got an ego to match. Aces college far too young to really enjoy it, with mom and dad promising him a bright, lucrative future as a company partner- and then one day he gets the news they've both died. Car crash. He's never been particularly close to them, so it maybe doesn't hit him as hard as it should. Or it does, but not in the way you might expect."
He laughs, remembering his teenage years- drink, wild parties, sex with anything that would stay still long enough.
"So anyway. He's too young to take over the company, so daddy's best friend takes over for a few years while our hero gets himself utterly wasted partying. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, all the good stuff- he's in the papers all the time doing stuff he should really be ashamed of, but he's young and stupid, and he never really wanted to be a Stark anyway. Or at least, the money's fine, but the legacy, not so much. He's basically allergic to introspection. Boring you yet? This is all important for later on, I promise."
no subject
no subject
A shrug, and he was working his toes deeper into the warm sand, part of his brain still unable to shut off and accept rather than try to work out how it was he could feel each grain against his skin.
"Circuit boards weren't what Dad's business was all about. Stark Industries was a weapons developing company. And I was damned good at it. Too good."
no subject
no subject
He grimaced, just about resisting the urge to press a hand to his chest, over his heart. Years now, and even thinking about it...
"Got injured in the attack. Shrapnel shredding up my heart- hundreds of tiny shards. Inoperable. I pulled together a quick fix solution to keep me alive- an electromagnet to keep the shrapnel from digging in any further, powered with a battery I threw together with pieces from dismantled starktech, built into a kind of chestplate. Genius, really, but they do say necessity is the father of invention. Kept me alive long enough to be tortured for the designs for my weapons. Bit of a far cry from martinis on the yacht- and after a month or so I figured no-one was coming for me. So I told them I'd do it. I'd build them what they wanted."
no subject
no subject
"They gave me the materials. Anything I asked for. So I asked carefully. A little paladium here, gyros, servos, actualisers- nothing that would raise suspicion, and never in quantities they'd question, but all essential items for my ticket out of there. And by the time they realised my project looked nothing like a missile, I was ready- or as ready as I'd ever be."
No, no need to mention Yinsen. That was his personal burden.
"I'd made a suit of battle armour, powered by the battery they'd let me build to save my life. Nothing glamourous, nothing you'd show off at a party. But it did the job. Lasted long enough to blow the camp and get me to safety, where I was picked up by a rescue team. Never could stop playing with the suit though. Kept tinkering, making it better, trying to work out why I couldn't let it go- even after medical science caught up with me enough that I didn't need the chestplate anymore. I guess I've never really worked out why I need it."
He smiled, a little awkwardly. Okay, so that had ended up a little more personal than he'd intended. Perhaps he should have stuck to the third person. Everything sounded more impressive that way, which was probably why Doom did it.
no subject
no subject
He stretched out a hand and let Extremis fire up, coating his arm in the smooth golden interface suit, bright and obviously metallic under the artificial sun.
"The press call the armour Iron Man. And that's me. Inside and out, now. I run my company, take Miss World finalists out on ludicrously expensive dates, and spend my spare hours saving the world. Hopelessly seeking some kind of forgiveness for my years of willful ignorance, shamelessly feeding my voracious appetite for praise and recognition- who knows why I do it. God knows I don't."
no subject
no subject
"Not sure happy's the word."
Understatement of the damn century, that one- but there was no way he was going to dwell on that for much longer.
"So go on. Your turn to talk, my turn to yawn."
no subject
Those weren't pleasant memories. He didn't like going back to them.
"We knew about it, knew the nature of the goddess who'd ordered us to be created, and we chose to follow her still. I have no intention of lying to anyone on this ship; we murdered, stole, and worse. The other soldiers in the dragonarmies did the same, mostly human, and pretty much treated us like shit. Even if we were of an equal or higher rank than a human, we weren't treated with any respect, and more often than not, we were thrown into infantry or latrine duty," the bozak snorted. "In the end, she lost her war. All the officers and Highlords were more interested in fighting each other for power. I honestly can't say I'm upset about that. Doesn't mean I regret anything I ever did, though. Most of us don't."
no subject
"And that's when Stacy picked you up?"
no subject
"We decided to move out of the valley and started traveling to an abandoned dwarven city. Along the way, though, goblins hounded us, trying to kill us. We didn't understand why at first, but we figured out pretty quickly that someone was paying them to do it; we hadn't done anything to them, and they rarely leave their territory unless there's steel involved. Thought it was the Solamnics at first. We were wrong, though."
no subject
"Sounds like someone was trying to undo a mistake," he offered, getting into the story now.
no subject
He smiled wryly. "On top of that mess, I had to deal with the girls having grown up and the crazy aurak general of the fort using a magical artifact that took the soul of a draconian and split it up. Stupid clones, basically. If you were of a higher rank, you could order one to hammer a nail into their brain, and they'd do it." He'd pitied them, really.
"The girls and I took care of Maranta as the goblins were attacking us, my regiment used a crazy, last-minute plan involving a fake dragon filled with explosives during the battle, and we won. I tore up my hand in the process, but it was more than worth it," The bozak held up his right hand, showing the mass of scars. Pausing, he decided not to mention Huzzad's death. "After that, I retired from the military, we all moved to an abandoned city, and I became the Lord-Governor of our new nation."