Tony Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aggravating) wrote2012-05-28 05:20 pm
aggravating) wrote2012-05-28 05:20 pm
3rd Command; Video
[See Tony. See Tony with a gun he'd nicked from some drunken hobo in exchange for his watch. See Tony slamming down his communicator on a table and holding said gun up with a rather casual air as he looks around and-]
... Sweet mother of all that's technological and holy-
[He's mumbling, his entire body going slack as an awed and almost teary-eyed expression comes over his face. Because the room he'd found himself in? Yeah. It's the back warehouse of Gotham's version of best-buy. Picked clean of the more expensive things, and most everything else is broken and looted but it's still technology and metal and gears and dear baby Jesus is that a computer?]
Oh, baby, I'm in love. I don't give a crap- I'm in love. [And then he's picking up the communicator and just kind of excitedly showing everyone his goddamn beautiful haul.] If I disappear for the next few days, this is where I am. In robotics heaven.
[He does pause, though, as he turns a corner and finds what seems to be some shelving units that haven't been installed, and he makes a thoughtful noise under his breath.] ... Yeah, this could work.
Hey. [He taps the microphone, obnoxiously] Anyone out there with an inch of sanity and a blow torch? I kind of need one.
[ooc: and so begins Tony staying up for two days straight and barricading himself in his brand new workshop! He'll be emerging with some pretty half-assed helper bots (he has their coding memorized, knows how they go together, could do it in his sleep, he's just been missing the tech he needed to make them) and after that three days of constant work and maybe an hour of sleep? He'll be emerging in a crude, not-so-indestructible Iron Man suit. Because if he can build one in a cave in Afghanistan under constant torture and surveillance? He can sure has hell make one in a run-down electronics store with minimal distractions.
Of course, most of this will no-doubt be destroyed in villain battles and he'll mourn his bots for weeks, but hey. When Tony Stark is left alone and with tech? He builds.]
... Sweet mother of all that's technological and holy-
[He's mumbling, his entire body going slack as an awed and almost teary-eyed expression comes over his face. Because the room he'd found himself in? Yeah. It's the back warehouse of Gotham's version of best-buy. Picked clean of the more expensive things, and most everything else is broken and looted but it's still technology and metal and gears and dear baby Jesus is that a computer?]
Oh, baby, I'm in love. I don't give a crap- I'm in love. [And then he's picking up the communicator and just kind of excitedly showing everyone his goddamn beautiful haul.] If I disappear for the next few days, this is where I am. In robotics heaven.
[He does pause, though, as he turns a corner and finds what seems to be some shelving units that haven't been installed, and he makes a thoughtful noise under his breath.] ... Yeah, this could work.
Hey. [He taps the microphone, obnoxiously] Anyone out there with an inch of sanity and a blow torch? I kind of need one.
[ooc: and so begins Tony staying up for two days straight and barricading himself in his brand new workshop! He'll be emerging with some pretty half-assed helper bots (he has their coding memorized, knows how they go together, could do it in his sleep, he's just been missing the tech he needed to make them) and after that three days of constant work and maybe an hour of sleep? He'll be emerging in a crude, not-so-indestructible Iron Man suit. Because if he can build one in a cave in Afghanistan under constant torture and surveillance? He can sure has hell make one in a run-down electronics store with minimal distractions.
Of course, most of this will no-doubt be destroyed in villain battles and he'll mourn his bots for weeks, but hey. When Tony Stark is left alone and with tech? He builds.]
SOB
My delusions of grandeur are actually kind of facts of grandeur. Do you want my social security number? Would that make a believer out of you? Because, uh, I don't even know it. My old PA does. You know. The person I hired to basically run my life while I gamble, drink, and sleep with ninety percent of the women in the US? The thing rich people do?
Here, pal, my favorite bit from GQ, Winter 2009.
They're waiting for him on the street. They're waiting for him in the lobby. They're packed in with terrifying precision, lines spilling out and lining the sidewalks, screaming fans with millions of blinking lights taped to their chest, waiting for the man of the hour. Tony goddamn Stark. Billionaire playboy famous for his world changing inventions has done the impossible. He's proven that anyone, given the right drive, can make a difference in the world.
The air is a chant of his name - Tony Tony Tony - and the doors open wide, blinding smile and red-tinted sunglasses - Which, by the way, I still have on me - And every female within sight swoons and screams, threatening to break down the barrier. Everyone wants a piece of this superhero, which is why GQ happily gives him the title of MOST DESIRABLE MAN OF THE YEAR, 2009.
Melanie Goldberg. We ever stop off near my Malibu, I'll get her to send over that month's issue.
CC:
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I know it's kind of a lot to handle. You know. Talking to a celebrity. But I assure you this actually is the real life.
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Luckily, such things make no difference on the barge. Welcome to being part of the rabble.
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[He just sort of shrugs, looking oh so sorry for you, Crane]
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[Yeeeaaaah he just has an ego problem]
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