thearena | It's frustrating for a man who can't sit still...

Entry tags:

It's frustrating for a man who can't sit still...

WHO| Tony Stark and anyone who comes across him.
WHAT| Tony has come out from the safety of his little Marvel Shop nest to wander about and scavenge.
WHEN| The end of week two through to the start of week three
WHERE| Marvel Shop, Food Court, the Sporting Goods Store.
WARNINGS| Maybe be some violence, but nothing Tony can't survive.

(A) -- The Marvel Shop --

After two weeks in the store, Tony is starting to get antsy, and to those who are also using the store as their home base can probably easily tell. He's taken apart everything he can and has made a viarety of tasers, flash bangs and smoke bombs. The last two aren't even remotely dangerous due to the fact Tony doesn't have the best equipment at his disposal, but what they do, do is be at least distracting enough to create a getaway for the user. Whatever materials are left are things that he can use but needs other parts.

In particular he wants to start working on building less powerful versions of the one-use repulsors he had created back home. No way was he going to be able to make them as good as they could be. But they could certainly do some damage to a person's body, repulsor burns are a bitch.

The most obvious part of his antsy ways is his pacing. Not many outside Bruce would be familiar with it in the shop, and while he doesn't act so frustrated while he paces, it doesn't make it any less annoying for anyone who has to deal with it for extended periods of time. The pacing isn't too bad during the day, because he knows he can leave and occasionally will disappear for an hour or two before coming back. But it's at night when his pacing is at it's most unavoidable as they aren't able to escape it.

(B) -- Food Court --

Tony loves food. It's not something he telegraphs and does have a tendency to forget to eat when he's focused. But he still loves food. And as lovely, charming, and reviewable 4 and 5 star quality food is, the man will always go for fast food before fine dining. It was a teen novelty which turned into a habit, there was just something about slapped together burgers that just appealed to him.

Right now he's taken a moment to stretch his legs and find something to chew on his own instead of waiting for those he knew to come back with food for him as if some baby bird. He shakes his head at that thought as he comes up to a juice bar and peers around before jumping the counter to start going through all the available fruit to see what's worth sticking in cups to bring back for the others, and mostly himself.

Unlike his last arena where he wasn't at all trying to keep an eye out for danger, this time Tony's looking up to scan the area as he fruits up, still not often enough, but he at least has a regular period of looking up and around, muttering to himself through the whole process.

(C) -- The Authority - Sporting goods

Tony knew there would be two important facts about the sporting store: One, that it would be a good place to sniff out some electrical goods and supplies. Two, that it would be a great ambush spot because of all those supplies.

He stood back from it for a long while, watching and watching it. Careful to keep an eye out for any movement. However Tony's own impatience and his strong desire to stop being out from the safety of the Marvel store push him to venture in idly picking up walkie talkies, a paintball gun, and flash lights. He's clearly more interested in taking anything that looks like if can be remade into something else or that can be mixed together. Unlike in the food court, Tony's actually making an effort not to make too much noise.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Stumbling away from the Hummer crash in the ice rink, Alex Murphy comes to the conclusion he needs repairs and they won't be coming from Omnicorp. OmniCorp authorized repairs are preferable, of course, but so far they have sent zero replacement parts, have done nothing to fix his faulty feeds to the outside world. Alex has no choice but to assume OmniCorp is...unavailable. Immediate maintenance is required to continue his patrol.

Alex compiles a short list of Tributes with a background in cybernetics, robotics. As Jet is blind now, he gets removed off the list. The next up is "Stark, Anthony".

His credentials check out. Alex stalks down Tony at the Marvel store, oblivious to the plushies and kiddie masks of the Hulk he passes. He troops in a single-minded line toward where Mr. Stark is likely to be, holding his damaged arm dangling in one hand. The rest of that arm? Hanging in a stump that sparks and hums dangerously every now and then, wires protruding out. What could either be blood or lubricant continues to drip onto the carpet.

"Mr. Stark." Alex's voice echoes in the main entrance of the store near the cash registers. He spots a shape that could be Tony, his head swiveling toward it as it paces. "I require your service."

When his name is said, Tony frowns at what he's working on. There have only been two people to call him 'Mr Stark' in this world, and both of them are women.

This wasn't a woman's voice.

Tony looks up in the direction of the voice and stares.

"Uh." He knits his eyebrows "This is isn't something I expected." He then looks at the damage and the dripping. "Could you just." He makes a gesture at him to come forward onto the wood and off the carpet. "Believe me, whatever your oozing, isn't carpets friend."

Alex pauses, as if he's ready to ask why the carpet matters. Protocol kicks in, he turns his amputated arm so it's dribbling slowly instead of leaking, and he's sorry to say he can't stem the flow entirely.

"Is there somewhere I should sit? Data you need?"

Alex doesn't argue when Mr. Stark indicates that he should join him on the wood floor. He troops over, pistons and servos hissing as they alternate, his armored graphene feet scuffing the wood until he's standing next to Mr. Stark. He doesn't look at him like he's expecting the other Tribute to draw a weapon because in his mind, Mr. Stark will repair him because it's in his best interest to be a model citizen. Refusal will not end well. It starts with verbal warnings and escalates from there.

"Here." Alex hands Mr. Stark his severed arm like it's a bumper from a car. "I understand you have limited resources. 80% of my functionality will be more than enough if you can handle that."

Tony continues to just stare as all the visual information he's being offered along with the vague amount f verbal information he's getting.

"Okay, I don't like being handed things, so let's just start with that." He starts putting his hands up in the universal gesture of keep it back.

"And yeah, I think I'm going to need some data. Like who the hell are you and why you've come looking for me after apparently losing a fight with the T-800?"

Alex files that away, still holding onto his arm, the graphene hand flopping with a clicking sound. "Detective Alex Murphy. Like I said, I need repairs. You're in my files as being capable of...creative repairs."

Not approved methods, of course, but Alex believes that he can override that because it's more important that he get back out there. Alex moves to set the arm down on a shelf, careful to keep the dripping to a minimum before he faces Mr. Stake again.

"Can you do it or not?" Alex looms over him - he's not trying to throw his weight around and threaten the man, exactly. It's more like he needs a yes/no answer.

"My files." Tony comes back with mildly. "Good to know people are still keeping a close eye on those." He pauses to look at Alex who is looking at him with a rather serious face. "Guess this file didn't point out how I'm also a pain in the ass to deal with?"

He gives him a critical look when he's asked if he can do it or not, then slides off the counter to look grab at the arm off the shelf. He starts turning it around in his hands, looking at the wiring and structure inside, his mind working like it hadn't been since he got here, what with this feeling like an actual potential challenge for him. He mutters to himself about components, stripped wires and sheared joints, before turning back to Alex, utterly ignoring everything about him which isn't his arm, conducting the same visual rundown with muttering. Then he finally looks at his face again.

"Really, it says creative repairs?"

Elsa's already been in the shop once, but she had liked it enough that she's been wanting to come back for a while now. It had been interesting, to see what sort of merchandise is on sale for people like Thor. The foam hammers they have for sale had been cute, but what had caught her eye and she's been wanting to surprise Anna with are the giant green foam fists that she'd seen. Those look like something Anna would like, so she's been trying to find a good time to come back.

As it is, today is that day. It seems subtly different since the last time she'd been there, but just the same as last time, it doesn't take her long to spot someone inside. She's always a little nervous when it comes to meeting people she doesn't know, considering they could be the last person she meets.

It's silly, but before she can help herself she reaches out to tug one of the foam hammers into her grip, holding it close to her chest like a weapon. "Hello?" Elsa calls out hesitantly, hoping that he comes in peace. If not, she just hopes she can bop him in the face hard enough with this hammer to make a difference.

Tony had been fussing about the store before the young woman arrives, taking apart things he had built to make other things, and generally being annoying enough to the others to give him enough space to be alone for the moment so he could only bother himself. When he heard the hello he had just stepped into an aisle of comics, so his head pops up over the racks too look at the woman.

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah, if you're looking for something to defend yourself, this technically isn't the place to be."

While Tony doesn't doubt she has potential to be a danger to him, Tony's best defense is to dismiss people, mostly because it gives people enough pause to either realise he isn't a threat, or wonder that if he looks like he doesn't care then maybe he's more of a threat than they know.
So as such Tony disappears behind the racks again before rummaging through comic titles to see if anything will help distract him from his restless energy.

"It said you were 'eccentric'," Alex didn't seem to realize that was the PA way of saying the same thing. He waits by silently, barely seeming to blink and he doesn't even shift his weight from foot to foot to get comfortable like a normal human would. "Unorthodox repairs. You're not on my approval list for repairs."

In fact, he has a suspicion that OmniCorp would view Stark Industries as a rival company. Alex will have to report his breach of protocol after this. For now he contents himself watching Mr. Stark, who seems to be more at ease dissecting his graphene arm with his eyes than having a face to face conversation. Perhaps it's because he's a cop.

"You can fix it, can't you?"

Honestly, all Molotov wanted was a new camping pillow -- hers was already seeing the effects of being in a fairly bloodsoaked environment, and her hair was gross enough without adding to the issue. The sporting goods store was pretty much ransacked, since most things in there were actually decent supplies, and she had spent most of her time so far kicking away empty packaging. Even things that would be worthwhile didn't have any batteries.

She's about to give up and leave to just try rinsing off the pillow she has when she hears a rack rustle slightly. She drops down and stalks toward the noise, leaving her carbine in her kit bag; instead, she grips hard at a hunting knife she's had since the beginning, when this store was stuffed to the brim with useful products.

It takes Molotov only a moment to climb high enough to see the man distracted by... a paintball gun. Okay. Whatever. He's still fair game. She swings down into his aisle, knife brandished and glares.

"Toys won't help you here."

"Eccentric?" Tony says as if affronted then shrugs, because he knows damn well that's the nicest way to call him a crazy rich guy. Then he goes back to looking at the arm.

Then he looks back up at Alex with complete sarcasm, clearly his being a detective doesn't remotely bother him.

"I could do this in my sleep." He pauses. "With the right tools, You've sheared things off in here I'd need a welder to properly fix it, probably even rebuild the whole arm" He moves his inspection back to Alex's remaining bit of arm, moving it up and down."Or just reattach a whole arm. But without my fabrication units..." He shrugs. "What do you need it to do, I'll see what I can do."

Well, he doesn't seem like he's particularly murderous, so that makes her relax a little. But she does suddenly feel a little awkward when she realizes that she's seriously holding a foam hammer as if it's going to do anything. Elsa lets it fall to her side slowly, trying not to appear too embarrassed about it.

"Actually, I'm not here to find anything to defend myself with," she says. "I'm just here to look around- actually, I wanted to find those... you know, the... er, green fists? They seem like something my sister would like."

But she does note that he seems a little off, even for someone she's only just met. "Are you alright, though? You seem like you've had better days."

Alex doesn't rise to defend himself, say that hey, a Hummer landed on me, show some respect. He shifts his stump up so Mr. Stark can get a better look at it: wires dangle out, liquid that looks black but is a deep red, almost like blood, dripping out of some of the tears.

"I need it to be load bearing. The fingers should work to open/close and movement should be the same as this," Alex rotates his right hand. It's flesh, looks real, alive, but he can rotate it on the socket a full 360 degrees that says there's no bone and tendons at the wrist on up. He wriggles those fingers to show the range of movements he wants from the other arm. "Also it can't fall off. That would reflect very badly on you."

He leaves that hanging in the air, not exactly a threat or a veiled promise. It's just a statement in his eyes. Reputation can be everything to someone high-profile like Mr. Stark here.

"Reflect badly on me." Tony repeats at he tilts his head with a look of annoyed curiosity.

"I'm in a mall. A mall with murderers around every corner and you want me to be able to machine you a fully working arm without the right composite materials, wiring or welding equipment?"

The irritation in his voice pretty evident.

"You want your arm fixed, I can see what I can do about getting you something that can at least be there, maybe bend if I can get something hinged. But until then."

Tony steps back from him, everything exuding annoyance as he walks over to one of the shelves, pulls off a box of Hulk gloves, roughly yanks one out, returning to Alex he shoves the fist onto his stump.

"Until then you just have to work with this. Understand?" He scrubs at his face. "Reflect badly on me." He repeats again, he had no idea that such a simple phrase would rile him up so much.

When the girl says she's after Hulk fists he stops fussing at various comic books then comes out from behind them, clearly wearing various clothes that were in the store.

"You mean the Hulk gloves?" Tony points to the gloves that sit high on a shelf to her right. "Your sister has some interesting taste."

He runs a hand through his hair and makes a dismissive gesture, the hand in question has a the bracelet on it that indicates he was part of the jail break.

"I haven't really had a good day since I came here. So I'm doing well enough considering."

There are two things that go through Tony's mind when he sees the woman approach him.

This is not Natasha.
That is a knife.

He looks down at his paintball gun then utilises his best defence. Which is utter disinterest in the situation.

"Well, sure not like this. But I can't take them apart and turn them into something actually useful."

Despite what he obviously has in his hands, Tony isn't completely defenseless right now, after all, on his right hand he has a very roughshod version of his one-use repulsor blaster. He doesn't want to use it unless he has no option, partially because if he misses he's screwed but also because he has no idea if he'll come out of the moment with both his hands intact.

The best he can hope for if she does try to attack him is that he gives them both a second degree burn to give him a chance to get away.

Alex, on the other hand, doesn't seem to find it that complicated - he needs that binary of yes/no, not the non-answer that Mr. Stark shoves into his face. His expressionless face actually twitches with something as Mr. Stark puts a non-authorized, extremely crude green prosthetic onto the stump of his elbow. His mouth actually looks less like a flat, neutral line as, for a second, the neurosuppression wavers. Alex remembers how to frown again.

It vanishes the next second, his face smoothing. He understands this will at least collect the lubricant and other fluids from leaking out his elbow. It serves a function. Therefore it doesn't matter what it looks like or that it's utterly useless as a prosthetic at all, much less for active duty.

"It's much more difficult to pacify those murderers without the proper tools," Alex points out as he decides to sit down on an Asgard-themed bench. Sitting is unnecessary but he understands that people don't appreciate it when he looks over their shoulders when they're trying to work. His head swivels to track Mr. Stark. "Thank you for your service."

He doesn't sound thankful or anything at all and it comes off more like he's reciting from a script, covering bases. From Alex's detached tone of voice, it's...expected that whatever help Mr. Stark can offer, he simply will offer it as a good citizen.

"You have to live long enough to do that," she says, clearly eyeing him up and down, analyzing his threat level. She can see... well, there's something on his hand, something weird and stupid and superscience-looking. She doesn't care about it, whatever it is, since he's obviously making his... hand things out of toys. She will stay the fuck away from it, though.

One of her feet stretches forward, a tentative step. Molotov actually doesn't want to fight here, there's too many people lurking in this area, looking for distractions to use as opportunities, but if this little man doesn't back down, then she won't either.

"If you run now, you have a much better chance of playing with it than if I come over there and try to share the toybox."

Tony scoffs as he pokes around for what he could possibly have in the store in order to build a whole new arm for his apparent 'new best friend', not looking up from a box as he replies.

"Who would have thought you can't just give them a fluffy duck and say; 'hey enough with the killing'?" He rolls his eyes to himself then pauses in his rummaging and then suddenly looks at the shelving. He goes over to one of the moveable displays and starts to pull it apart, moving like a man with a plan.

When he's thanked for his service he simply ignores it, too focused on what he's doing to give a reply.

He keeps himself as apathetic as possible to her being a very likely threat to him, though he is still trying to be wary of her.

"Well, I'm kind of liking my chances. I've gotten pretty good at getting out of scrapes here and there."

He becomes more attentive to her when she starts to move forward, he has too much pride to just give ground, but at the same time he's not so stupid as to provoke a physical fight.

"Yeah, I've never exactly been big on running. But how about this? You, don't use me as a place to store that knife of yours, and I don't try to defend myself from any knife based attacks." He pauses long enough to grab up a walkie talkie box only to frown and toss it aside when he realises how empty it is.

"I don't know about you, but I think it's a pretty workable idea."

"Unfortunately that is ineffective," Alex replies, missing the point entirely. He watches Mr. Stark at work, interested, and not just because he's receiving help. It's one of those little backdoor things OmniCorp installed - observe, log, deliver anything Alex witnesses from their technological rivals. He doesn't even realize he's doing it, either. Plausible dependability.

When he points out the gloves, she moves over to reach for them- it's a little difficult with how high they are, but she manages to snag a pair and debates on trying to grab a second one. It feels like the kind of thing Anna would want a second pair of, for some reason.

"She does," Elsa says with a nod, fondness in her voice. "Her name is Anna- she's always been into silly things, so this just seems like something like that."

At his statement, she can sympathise more than he knows. "I know what you mean," she says. "It's hard to be well in an arena, isn't it? Everything is just so... stressful."

Really, he can log this back to OmniCorp as much as he likes, What Tony is working on is hardly an engineering feat.

"Let me guess, not programed for sarcasm?"

Once the display is destroyed, Tony takes two bits of frame that could work as passable arm bones lengths and a wheel, after that he steals a shoelace and the pneumatic door closer from the storeroom door and starts duct taping and muttering to himself as he works.

"I would have programed sarcasm."

When she mentions Anna, Tony snaps his fingers shortly after she speaks, as he makes the appropriate connections.

"Izzy, no. Elsa? Met your sister, cute. Tiring, but cute. Keeps actually bumping into me."

He comes closer to her but stops at a respectable distance back, sweet looking girl or not anyone here could be dangerous, including him so why put either of them on edge right now?

"The stress I can live with, my every day is stress." After all, you can't be a world class inventor and businessmen if there's no stress in your life, even if Tony does have a tendency to try to avoid some of that stress.

"It's lack of." He makes a vague gesture which really doesn't suggest anything. "Interesting things?" That's not right. "I haven't got real tools to work with here, so arenas are frustrating more than stressful."

"Believe it or not, I am not afraid of any defenses you might have planned." It's an annoyed huff more than anything else -- she really wants him to just leave so that they don't have to do this right now. The hand holding her knife is the one she uses to gesture at him, waving it almost dismissively. "How about this: you run regardless of your feelings, and I don't slash your throat from ear to ear? Sounds better to me, really."

Her center of gravity drops suddenly, and she's ready to launch herself if necessary. Which probably really isn't something he should be wanting.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 3

It's frustrating for a man who can't sit still...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Marvel shop

no subject

no subject

The Authority

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject