The Player
Name: Mina
Age: 27
Pronouns: She
Contact: gildedmuse@gmail.com (email), gildedxmuse (AIM)
Experience: When I was 10 years old I discovered the online world of Sailor Moon RPGs. Since then I have played a diversity of characters both original and canon in various styles of games ranging from popular message boards, one-on-one, freestyle chat, and limited private groups. My 16 years experience include participating in nearly every area of RPGs inducing full creation and operation of a number of sites and, of course, lots of practice simply roleplaying.
Currently Played Characters: N/A
The Character
DW Acount: Mr_Stark
Name: Anthony “Tony” Stark
Alias: Tony, Iron Man
Age: 43
Birthdate: May 29, 1970
Species: Human, but one of the better models
Canon: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Canon point: Post-Iron Man 3
Played By: Robert Downey, Jr.
-Power-
Hmm... Well, for starters I've got the “power” to turn my genius into a billion dollar company without ever needing to fall back on these playboy looks or my natural charm. Oh, there's also the whole constructing a nearly indestructible suit that can do everything from achieving temporary space flight, saving entire villages from some rather uncreative “execute, rape and plunder” style terrorists and without a single loss of human life, I might add (unless you're counting the actual terrorists as “human life” though, personally, I feel that's really just getting caught up in some minor details), to single-handedly stop alien invasions.
Okay, that last one might have involved a few other minor players, but only in the vicinity of back up. I was the main show, trust me. Sure, the green guy gave it his all but uncontrolled smashing is kind of his thing. He was like the drummer in the alien take down band. Who else've you got? I'm pretty sure Legolas and Secret Agent Bond Girl were only there to fill SHIELD's affirmative action quota. Had to show Mr. Red-White & Blue, of course. I mean, how else would TV audiences know which country was kicking some alien ass. And Thor? Please. You know how every box office action hit needs at least one piece of eye candy to keep audience’s interested. Well, I'm not saying that was his only role in the whole shebang but, come on, look at the guy. His role was limited to special effects, L'Oreal product placement, and maintaining a certain pretty boy status. Usually I have that area covered as well but at the time I was sort of busy showing off my hero skills in the previously mentioned suit. Which, for the record, I original designed and constructed while being held captive in some fucking nowhere desert cave all without the use of some super special power up steroids or a daddy who happen to be an ancient, all knowing god (not that my dad didn't act like one, but trust me. He might have just barely met the minimum emotional levels required but the bastard was fully human). Definitely didn't pump myself full of gamma rays in some crazy attempt to figure out hos much radiation it takes to turn cancer cells into giant green fists of smashing. Didn't.... join a circus and shoot through fiery hoops or something? Seriously, I don't even know what that dude is doing on the team. My best guess? We shared the same recruitment assessor and his talent with perfectly aimed phallic objects extends further than his bow.
Anyway, to cut right down to the question: I have a suit. You've probably seen it. It's sort of all over the news for having saved the city, the president, and the world on a couple occasions. Not too mention it looks bitching and makes for better television than Micheal Bay's best attempts at recreating robotpocolypse and mine didn't even cost billion dollars to make look good.
-Abilities-
Ummm... Hmm, let's see now... Oh, right, I built the Iron Man Suit. Out of scrap metal. In a fucking cave. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to design and build a manned, person shaped tank the likes of which had never been achieved all while trapped in some underground rock prison in Afghanistan with a bunch of terrorist assholes screaming at you to build them a missile. Thankfully none of them had a degree in Engineering (or basic hygiene) so hiding the module while pretending to play along with their whole “your life is in our hands, you will do as we command” proved to be one of the easier steps in my daring escape plan.
Hey, kids, this is why terrorists aren't known for their Ph.D. Thesis or living past forty, alright? Stay in school. And, you know, don't become fucking terrorists.
I don't know what kind of “abilities” you're hoping for, but trust me building that suit counts, and is fucking impressive even for a genius level mechanical pioneer like myself. Everyone thinks Richard Reed is so remarkable? When was the last time that guy tried engineering a mechanical suit out of old rocket parts while a whole hosts of big, smelly cheerleaders with AK-47 patiently waited for the non-body armor shaped missile they requested because let me tell you, that kind of scientific field work isn't for the faint of heart.. Oh. Speaking of fainting and hearts, did I mention the shrapnel buried inches from my main arteries with a car battery powered electromagnet the only thing keeping them from piercing in through and leaving me dead?
Just add “works well under stress and/or constant death threats” to my resume.
Then there are my many lesser known achievements. You know, minor uses of my skills such as perfecting a clean energy source that (given a few more years in testing and development) could power the whole of New York City - coffee shops to strip clubs - with no toxic emissions or negative effects on day to day life or, you know, the whole of Earth. Then there was the time I went ahead and synthesized a new element almost immediately after being informed it was a technical impossibility. You think I would have given JARVIS a little more faith in my abilities. Maybe it's time for a tune up; add a little optimism to his personality simulator. Seems a shame to mess with such a brilliant and groundbreaking robotic AI, even if he can be a bit of a downer. Guess that's what I get for programming him when I was a lone teenage genius.
And, hey, my engineering talents are hardly limited to innovative energy solutions, leading-edge AI, or revolutionary power suits. Stark Industries creates all kinds of products and, sure, it's not like I have a hand in every finished design (did you see the Fe-Phone Smartphone
™. No, you didn't, because I personally bought back every single unit for the distributes before they had a chance to be launched. This is what happens when you allowed art majors to intern for college credit). Still, I promise every product on the market contains a minimum of one piece of fantastical technology drawn up and perfected by yours truly. That laptop you're using right now? Well, assuming it's not a total piece of crap it contained a vital component designed and manufactured by Stark Industries. Same goes for you tablet and smartphone regardless if you're lucky enough to own Stark brand or just wasted the money on our competitors. The list goes on and on: medical equipment, NASA sponsored space ready technology, life saving safety feature. I don't want to bore you with all the details, but trust me, if you ever thanked God for all the comforts of your daily life plus every thing you didn't even realized made it interesting? Yeah, you're welcome.
I have a bit of a confession here. The reason I can devote so much time to building the technology of the future? I don't bother dealing with the business meetings of today. Luckily for Stark Industries its CEO is perfect for the job. For the record, that would Ms. Pepper Potts, a stunningly talented woman who you might recognize as not being me. Still, I think I have a pretty impressive skill set: continuously producing innovative and useful tech years ahead of my competitors, turning a weapon company whose main contract was with the US Army into an even more successful business run on clean energy and other positive technological advances marketed both to major governments and straight to you the consumer, and using my down time to design suits that to this day remain an unmatched feet of engineering.
For those of you who watch the news or have friends that do or have even just gone out in public and looked around for a bit, you might remember that one time I flew a nuke into space. I'm not entirely sure “saving the world” qualifies as an ability, but wanted to be on the safe side.
You know, my dad might not have been the best parent in the world – I don't think he even bothered entering the running – but I vividly remember when he sat me down at nine years old and shared this secret to success: no matter how dull the subject or stupid the audience if you start with sex and end with a flash and a bang you can get people to listen to anything. And, hey, while he might not have paid me to much attention he did command the respect of multiple presidents, congress, and most major world powers. So of course I'm going to fuck it all up and end with the sex part. My reputation in the boardroom – when I managed to show up and wasn't too hungover to speak - might have been more showmanship than substance but my abilities in the bedroom.... Are apparently not appropriate conversation material.
At least according to Pepper who is currently threatening - sorry "editing your work" which she didn't even have my permission to read in the first place. She just happened to standing over my shoulder and, hey, as long as you're reading this UNASKED do you think you could get that? You know how much I hate being handed things. Why do you think I asked you to drop by for lunch? That's when the delivery is schedule to -- oh come on, Pep! It's not like I invited you just for that!
Jesus.
Anyway, for the interested pick up just about any trashy Hollywood gossip rag they still sell for whatever reason (trust me, by the end of this century its gonna all be digitized, baby). They love to turn every meeting between consenting adults into a scandal, though in my case they're not usually wrong. Well, not until you get to the actual juicy details. Then suddenly it's like an edition of Modest Home Amish. Trust me, my talents are far more superior and diverse than the accounts gi-- Shit. Pepper just left. She knows that FedEx asshole is coming and she just left. I wonder if I could program Dummy to be handed packages without him somehow fucking it up?
-Appearance-
What, do you live under a rock? Actually, don't even try and use that as an excuse. I lived in a fucking cave in the middle of nowhere and they recognized this face. These days even rocks have wireless hotspots.
Come on, guys! I'm Tony Stark! The incredibly handsome one they put on the cover of Forbes at least twice a year? People's Top Ten hottest men (and let's face it, I was beaten out by a bunch of guys whose sole job is making themselves attractive. I have actual science that I have to get done. Everything else is just icing on the cake).
Really? You STILL need me to answer this? Okay. Fine. I'm just going to assume you live in a cave in Siberia and also you're blind and not allowed access to any sort of news media once so ever probably because you live in a prison camp. Wow, life really had it out for you. Sorry about that. I'll keep it as simple as possible and try not to shock your system. Still, prepare yourself comrade, this may be the most satisfying image you've ever had the fortune of hearing.
I'm 5'9”, 185 lb and in good shape which is why I don't understand all these photographers insisting on snapping me next to Thor or Captain Goldie Locks. Of course I'm going to look little next to those two, are you kidding me? Before this it was all Tony Stark: Sexual Experience and now I look like the nerdy tutor of the world's most muscular high school foot ball team. I'll have you know I'm actually the youngest of the three. And my hair is naturally this black-brown color. I have no actual proof or even a particularly convincing theory to back this up, but I'm pretty sure old Cap there isn't a natural blonde.
Look, who wants a giant hunk of rock hard meat to cuddle up to anyway? The results might be strewn given that I've probably had more women than either of those two have met, but pure numbers say that I'm the ideal partner here. Lean and cut enough to look good naked, but not intimidating like a shaven bull on steroids. Also I don't wear a cape or a stupid helmet with wings on the side, netting me at least seven extra points in that department.
Have I mentioned my eyes? Is it rude to talk about eyes with a blind man? You know what, this is about me, we're going to talk about my eyes. Sure, my driver's license lists them as “Brown” but that's only because the poor DMV lady couldn't override the system to give them their proper label: a rich, dark brown that you could only dream of being lost in. If you could see them, you would know how that woman felt. Puppies have nothing on me when I turn these babies on. Not that they only have one setting. They can express a full range of indescribably attractive emotions. I've been known to get women to strip down with just one look, although Pepper has made me promise to no longer use that in public. For their own safety.
A lot of folks claim I look just like my old man back in his prime, apparently because they want to find out what it's like to get punched in the face by Iron Man. There is a pretty huge leap between 1940s handsome enough and modern god. I can say that, too having come face to face with my fair share (two, but that is all you need to meet before you get over the whole 'immortal god' thing). Sure, Thor might be bit more built, but I'd like to think I'm way more approachable. Plus my hair doesn't look like I”m trying to bring back bad 80s glam rock fashion. I keep it simple. A short cut – not Uncle Sam's army approved - but shortish. Say, long enough to have something to hold onto in bed or, for the underage out there, enough to be stylishly ruffled or pull a bit of a modern sweep up while still appropriate for the cover of Forbes. Savvy Rock Star Business Tycoon, let's call it.
Oh, and I'm not seven so, yeah, I have facial hair. This would probably be a good time to address all you copycats out there: not everyone can pull off a dapper goatee and come out of it looking comfortably cool. Jesus, if you had seen some of the attempts – I'm not saying I'm happy you're blind, but you might be if you had seen these kids. You just want put your arm over their shoulder and give them some fatherly advice. Course since I never got anything like that I'd probably just put them in a headlock and force shave it off myself. They'd be thankful if they owned a mirror. To review here:
On them: creepster.
On me: People's Top Ten.
It's all in the face. Not everyone can be blessed with these good looks, that's for sure. And you know what helps? Wear a couple suits now and then – makes you look more respectable, even if you spend most of your public life in admittedly unrespectable positions (ladies). I'm not suggesting you go around dressed up to the tens all the time. Like... Not when you're back at your house working on something that can catch fire which guarantee’s dummy is going to dose you in C02 even though it's the goddamn table that's in flames, not your special order AC/DC shirt. That's right, even my hanging around the house clothes have been properly tailored and stylishly cut. You never know when someone is going to break into your house and try and kidnap you or claim to be your greatest nemesis come to destroy you/kill your loved ones/get your autograph yadayda or whatever – you have to be prepared. Plus I've been told I look pretty good when I'm dressed down and covered in a few grease stains. It's not the image they usually choose for the cover, but it's the one that gets Pepper's attention and trust me, that says a lot more than some photograph's primp up images (none of which have been touched up in anyway, just so we're clear. I'd like to say all the Photoshop budget has to go towards Cap's wrinkles and making Thor's thick and majestic locks but I promised the guys I wouldn't go public. What with all the inadequacy they probably already feel Don't want to hurt their delicate feelings, you know?).
Oh, I should probably have mentioned the chest thing. No, this isn't an ode to my particularly nice abs (that can come later), this is a bit more...
Once upon a time I got blown up, okay. Or, at least, a missile with my name literally painted on the side landed right beside me, and the only thing that saved my skin was the Stark Under Armour ™ and this guy named Ho Yinsen. See, when I got dragged into that cave by my would be killers I had a hole in my chest big enough to get a fist though, and this shrapnel should have killed me, but Yinsin managed to get a magnet in me just in time. With a little tinkering I came up with the arc reactor system, and it powers more than my suits. It powers ME. It's this little circle of metal right in the middle of my chest that lights up and, well, keeps me alive. I had it removed, managed to patch myself up using a new heart surgery technical, a modified version of the extermis virus, and Pepper's persistence on not giving up on my idiotic ass against all reason, but for whatever the reason when I got pulled through this portal thing it looks like I got my hardware-heart back. So I guess for now this thing is sort of part of me, and seeing as it's one of the few things in my life that's kept on working, I guess it's best if I keep it around.
I feel like I might have gotten off track there at the end. Anyway, my point is, even if your vision was magically returned (likely by priority Stark Tech™) it's hard to look directly at this without feeling a little faint. I mean, I'm sure the whole blind soviet prison living in a frozen hell scape isn't easy but, hey, neither is being this damn sexy. We all have our demons.
-Personality-
A personality study? Really?
I guess "officially" speaking the results are still out on the validity of personality profiling and I'm not looking to insult any of you that might be in the sociology business, and I'm certainly not saying that the soft sciences are all about of pseudo-quackery all dressed up in the pretension outer shell of "subjective reality" or whatever the academics call it now a days but let's all take a moment to be honest here: the whole idea that you can judge someone based on a break down of certain psychological markers is pretty much a sham. I mean, if you were to actually believe in the results of these personality tests than according to that school mandated therapist my thirteen year old self was some sort of self-centered, spoiled child prodigy who outward confidence and instance on purposefully intellectually humiliating senior authority was just an overcompensating cover for his emotional insecurity and underdeveloped social skills. Just take a look in the latest People to see how wrong that man was about my social skills, and as for "purposefully intellectually humiliating senior authority" well, maybe if Mrs. Patterson had any idea what she was talking about I wouldn't have had to correct her, would I?
And they want to pass that off as an actual science.
However, as a logic-minded person myself (and because this section is apparently "required") I'll do my best to give you an thorough, objective look into the psyche of the singular Tony Stark. The only problem is where to even begin? I mean, ignoring the shallow attempts by hundreds of thousands of articles appearing through out numerous publications of various reputation, how do you describe an individual as interesting and complex as myself?
How about we start out with a few unbiased sources in the form of the people that are best qualified to answer any questions you might have on me, my close personal associates.
According to Pepper I “must be joking” about being naturally likeable considering how I can't even be in the room without doing something to drive her entirely mad. That's not being very fair. How am I suppose to know every little thing that will set her off? Okay, I guess I can see how programming all the appliances in the house with my voice calling her sugar muffin and honey bear for Valentine's could get annoying after a while, especially seeing as I missed Valentine's day by two weeks, but it's the thought that counts! Oh, Pepper also says that I never put any real thought into anything, I just jump at whatever crazy, spontaneous new idea pops into my head and thank GOD I'm clever enough to make it work or I would have been dead ages ago and “do you have any idea how much stress in my life is created just by you being you? All of it. All of it Tony!” When I gently corrected her by pointing out that she does stick around which would speak to her liking me at least somewhat she actually threw her arms into the air and went on for like ten minutes about how being my assistant for all these years has given her Stockholm Syndrome or maybe my type of crazy is contagious, there is no other way to explain why she stays around and actually lo-likes me so much and, God, Tony....
All and all, mark Pepper down for “likable, spontaneous, and clever.” Also, not that you asked, but Pep is possibly at her sexiest when she's gone into one of her Tony rants. I don't know if it's just the way her face gets when she's all annoyed or the particular tone she uses or just that it's all me-related. Regardless, I feel like that should be public record.
Next up I thought I'd go for a more official representative: Colonial James Rhodes. In interest of full transparency, Rhodey's been my friend since I can't even remember when (this part is not exactly an exaggeration: I was really drunk, I don't actually remember meeting him at all until he showed up next week – apparently I'd promised him a pac-man rematch. This happened around six or seven different times until we decided we were apparently officially friends by default). This man is the only other person on this Earth I have trusted with a fully functioning Iron Man Suit. That's right, Rhodey is none other than War Machine (I'm still in denial over the whole Iron Patriot branding catastrophe. It's like someone decided that Captain America and Iron Man should have a baby and name it the stupidest thing they could manage just to truly flip off nature). Point is, Rhodes is a great guy, probably one of the few people I haven't managed to corrupt after all these years, and he's got nothing but praise for me. Just look at this glowing recommendation:
From: Rhodes.James@USAF.org
To: I_Am_Iron_Man@Starkindustries.com
Subject: Re: A Summary Of My Amazing Personality
Is this some kind of joke, Tony? Did you get so drunk you forget it's November and you missed April 1st by a half a year? What do you even need a personality profile for? Don't tell me there is some kind of second Secret Avengers group scouting you out? I don't care how many aliens attacks are on the way, no one in their right minds is going to put you on double Earth safety watch.
Look, you're my best friend, you know that. And, yeah, maybe I owe you one or two, although who is keeping track at this point? (According to my official count of who owes who, I am still three up on you.) Before you can argue that I knew what I was getting into, let's both admit that is a flat out lie. No one ever knows what they are getting into with you and that includes you. Who knew that science conventions were such wild parties? Actually, you know what, I'm pretty sure they aren't, it's only when you show up and suddenly we're going shot to shot against noble prize winners. Now, maybe I should know better than to go along, but we both know by this point that somehow you will always talk me into it and, Goddamnit, somehow I always find myself having the time of my life before That Part Where You End Up Owing Me happens. I don't even tell my friends about our little escapades – not because I'm ashamed (well, not always) but I just don't think they'll believe any of it. Fuck, I hardly believe half the shit we get up to!
But, you know Tony, there's a lot more to life than being at the center of it all. I am still not convinced this is not some kind of prank or tests, but on the off chance that this is an actual request that could results in you being placed in a position of power/protection over our country, it's my sworn duty to tell the whole, unfiltered truth.
So, man, I'm sorry Tony, but here it is.
Dear Sir Or Ma'am;
I have been an acquaintance of Mr. Anthony Stark for just over ten years and what you are requesting - a short personality profile that offers an absolutist insight on the man - is a genuine impossibility. I could easily supply anecdotes that put Tony in a light much like the media at large: as an irresponsible billionaire who has become a hero purely through accident whose interest lie more in showing off his latest toys than working with the government to help our citizens or protect our country. These reports, while often sensationalized, are not entirely without truth.
I could also share with you the accounts that I gave to the senate last December: that the only reason the president was alive and the Mandarin attacks stopped was due to the determination and stalwart actions of Mr. Stark. This is also entirely true.
I have seen Mr. Stark act in ways far beyond the call of duty, even more so considering his civilian statues. Countless times he has saved innocent lives by selflessly putting his life at risk, almost always doing so against unknown and powerfully advanced threats that our forces were in no way prepared to engage with at the time. Some may think the validity of these actions are lessened due to the armored protective suit owned by Mr. Stark, code name Iron Man. However, having faced off against enemy combatants in my own version of the armor, built by Mr. Stark under the code name War Machine aka Iron Patriot I can assure you that the armor is not as impenetrable as Mr. Stark has lead the public to believe. It is no doubt a huge advantage, but offers no guarantee of victory or personal safety.
I am sure you are well aware of the kidnapping and near execution of President Ellis this Christmas. What you may not be aware of is the fact that it was Tony Stark, not Iron Man, who went to save the President from bio-terrorist Aldrich Killian. His Iron Man suit had been permanently damaged while rescuing the crew and passengers of Air Force One, a mission that had he not taken on himself would have resulted in the death of every person aboard the aircraft. Yet despite his lack of functioning suit or any sufficient combat training, in boarding that oil rig he undertook the same risks as me, a fully trained air force colonial with a long history of “unsuited” combat missions. It may contradict his many claims of being a so called “tech genius” but it shows that the suit is simply a uniform; it is the heart of the man who makes it more.
Yet despite his many heroic acts, Mr. Stark is far from the ideal “super hero” as I have heard him called. Mr. Stark has a very public personality that he appears to effortlessly maintains and even enjoy. This side of Mr. Stark is not the same as the man who I would willingly trust with my life as well as that of my president. He is often thoughtless, placing entertainment over important public appearances even against contractual obligations. He places his own enjoyment over the needs and wants of others and seems unaware of this fact, showing little to no sympathy. He often acts, as I am sure you are aware, in ways that seem to purposefully endanger his own life not for the safety of others but in order to show off. These are not the actions of the same man I spoke of earlier.
At the same time, I have only once witnessed Mr. Stark using the Iron Man suit irresponsibly and now believe there were external reasoning that lead to this behavior. I believe that Mr. Stark enjoys being the center of attention, but I also believe that when the world truly needs Iron Man that he will step up and do whatever it takes to protect this planet. I am sure he has gone on record about his popularity, and how upon entering a building people are instantly attracted to him. This may be true, but I doubt it is as simple a matter as charisma, and sure enough these groupies soon depart, usually with Mr. Stark unable to name a single one. At the same time, he has assemble a strong inner group of friends including myself and Ms. Pepper Potts and shows us more loyalty than most men show their own wives and children.
I apologize that this summary could not be more straight forward but Mr. Stark is a complex individual, and it can be difficult to get a read on him. In our many years of friendship I certainly have failed to, so I can only wish you the best of luck in your endeavors to do so.
- Colonel James Rhodes
Look, Rhodey can get a little serious at times – I think it's the air force thing – but no need to go to in-depth there. If you skim it I'm sure you'll pick up all the important parts. Popular, loyal to a fault, selfless, charismatic. What can I say? Obviously, I didn't do myself justice, but then I've always been known for being a bit humble.
The fourth person - although technically speaking really more of a person-like entity - nearest and dearest to my heart is my constant companion and personal assistant, JARVIS. Now you could make the case that JARVIS is an artificial intelligent that only simulates a human personality thanks to billions of byte of coding all programmed by yours truly, and you'd be somewhat right. I mean, that's a rather simplistic view of everything that went into building the base of the AI but come on, unless you're all MIT Ph.D. graduates with years of computer science under your belts than explaining the complex nature behind the system would be about as effective as teaching three year old theoretical math. But let me say that while not a truly human JARVIS has repetitively shown to be ability to learn and adapt his programming to my behavior, and trust me when I tell you no one else has spent as much time learning to adapting to me. Not even Pepper, and she has put in some good hours. Hey, JARVIS, what do you have to say about my personality, buddy?
Based on a randomly sampling of hours of recorded observations from your Malibu based house, laboratories, Stark Towers, and suit records, I have taken the liberty of mapping a number of your commonly displayed behaviors against a listing of specific personality traits. I could easily create a read out of the top twenty traits you exhibit, weighing them by most recent, emotional state, or sum total. Otherwise, I could simply repeat the prepared statement you have programmed me to give on such occasions.
Mmm, difficult choice. You know what, we don't want to take up too much of these good people's time. How about we go with that last one, just to keep things simple.
Mr. Stark is a highly responsible individual with excellent interpersonal skills who is well known for his maturity and levelheaded decision making as well as his remarkable ability to balance his personal life with work.
What can I say? I guess I'm just popular with my coworkers.
Speaking of teams that I officially worked for, I've also included SHIELD's personality assessment. Just as a small reminder, in case you might have missed the small reports by local new channels, turns out these guys were totally infultrated and all but run by HYDRA aka Science Nazis at the time. Now, I'm not saying that this report was filled purely in order to slander my good name because I stand against everything HYDRA represents, I just want to make sure that you, the committee or whoever the fuck you are, have the full picture here when taking these things into account and giving them their proper weight.
Assessment Of Tony Stark AKA Iron Man For The Avenger's Initiative
Agent Romanoff
Personality Overview: Mr. Stark displays compulsive behavior. Prone to self destructive tendencies. Textbook Narcissism.
Ahh, Natasha. Never one for words, at least not friendly ones. Also, just for the record, I did keep the whole SHIELD base from crashing into the ocean after they let Loki skip his way to freedom, then stopped the nuke they fired at New York City. So, you know, maybe consider that in your next personality assessment, Ms. Romanoff.
So now that we've gone through the formalities of secondary observations how about we cut through this subjective bullshit and get to the real stuff?
I'm an outgoing, fun loving guy who just happens to also be a fucking genius. You might have heard people say that about themselves before, maybe even insist that their membership in MENSA or some other IQ based society is worth more than the paper it's printed on, but who the fuck used printed paper in this day and age? Talk about obsolete. Listen, unless any of these other guys can show you their fully functioning self renewing power source, the one that keeps their highly advanced tech suit with it's own ever adapting on-board AI system than they really aren't using that word to it's full potential. I know what you're thinking – Tony, you're probably not the most objective person on your likeability but remember, I'm a scientist. I've been gathering data on this subject for years now. Doesn't matter where I'm going or what the event, I am guaranteed to attract at least twenty people who just want to soak in my every word. How can you explain that short of my dazzling personality? Okay, some credit to my aforementioned looks, but a pretty face will only get you so far. I mean, I've had plenty of them in my bed but how many of them have been really memorable? I'm not even going to bother to answer that. On the other hand, can't say I've ever had that problem myself.
Hell, half the people that have tried to kill me have been some son-of-a-bitch I literally meant for half a minute ten years back and yet somehow I managed to make enough of an impression that they nurtured that wound for a decade, investing everything they had in trying to out gun me. Sure, none of them have actually succeeded, but I think their persistence alone speaks volumes on my ability to leave an impression on people.
There is no way to chalk all the attention up to the Stark namesake, either. Sure, my father did a lot of work in establishing the company, but I'm the mind that launched it into the future. I could have easily been some random scientific prodigy who happened to also be an incredibly sexy with a magnetic personality. It's my natural charm that adds the finishing touch that really makes me THE Tony Stark.
-History-
I was born to a poor but hardworking couple who... No, wait, that's some other sucker's American dream. To be honest, I don't even know what's suppose to come after that part. You see, I was born to Howard Stark: Millionaire Technological Genius. He spent the war inventing weapons and flying around with Captain America, THE Super-Hero. Like the guy pretty much invented being a Super-Hero. The same one that I had to hear about almost every day of my childhood (and people think I didn't face hardship growing up). Anyway, back to my so called father. He did other stuff than just defeat the nazis. Like recovering the tesseract which, it turns out, is a gate way to another world, although to be honest he didn't know that at the time. He DID recognize it's ability to create massive amounts of energy and even invented atoms that were deemed impossible to synthesize in modern times never mind how he even figured it out back when calculations were still mostly done by hand. Oh, and he ended the war, or at least his tech did. My father invented the nuclear deterrent. Don't try imagine what it's like growing up in that household. Trust me, it's not worth putting yourself through.
Look, from ages three to five I thought my full name was “Jesus Tony”. I'm not saying this to get sympathy. It's not like the old man was abusive of anything. I mean, I grew up in a mansion. I had toys other kids could only dream of, half of them one of a kind, made with the latest technology given to me by family “friends”. My dad had someone take me to Disneyland at least once a year back when I was in love with designing amusement park rides (hey, it was a phase, and a damn cute one I'll have you know). Dad never had anything against me personally, it's just he had way more important things to do than try and figure out why a six year old who could literally have anything he asked for insisted on waiting until his fancy dinner party to throw a fit.
To no one's surprise I was enrolled in a year round boarding school. At the time I think I yelled at my mom that dad had just been waiting for the chance to get rid of me, but I don't blame the man. Hell, I think it might have been the closest thing to a decent parenting decision they ever made. After all, it's not like I was getting any structure or parental authority back home. I was closer to my nanny than either of my parents, and those were changed out at least every three years. Can you imagine what kind of adult would come out of a house like that?
Now might be the time to mention that I didn't get much in the way of authority at boarding school, either. For starters, even as a lowly 5th grader I got my own full sized room, and it's not like I was attending your every day snobby school. No, this was the sort of place kings that had been outed by a military coup sent their little tyrants in training and here I was; special. In ninth grade I accidentally-on-purpose blew up the physics lab just on a dare to see if it was even possible for me to get suspended. They called my dad to apologized. The year after I left they constructed a whole new science wing. One guess who it was named after.
At 14 I started my education at MIT, and you can only imagine what THAT little adventure was like. I mean, they pretty much set me - this young brat with no sense of authority - loose on a college campus where the only thing easier to get than girls was beer? Yeah, I was totally out of my element. Turns out it doesn't matter how cool you are in high school or how much money your father had, no one really wants to party with a overly precocious 15 year old.
Dad could have saved himself a lot of money with the whole boarding school experiment. It was my first few years in college that finally convinced me I was an actual human being and, more importantly, so was everyone else. I guess it was a mix of being somewhat outcast and the passing of the only family that ever actually care for me, Edwin Jarvis. Now don't get that look like I was some poor lost teenager with no friends who use to call home when he knew his parents weren't there just as an excuse to talk with the butler and spent all of undergrad years sitting alone in his dorm room and sequestrated in laboratories, segregating himself off from people and keeping to mechanical designs. I still got into plenty of trouble, trust me, and it doesn't matter how much younger I was than my peers, my name ensured there was always SOMEONE interested in getting close. I don't need any pity, okay? I mean, look at my life? Turned out great, didn't it? I mean, does anyone in the world look back at their teenage years and think "yeah, those were the best time of my life?"
Look, before we get all mushy or anything you should know that I ended up a billionaire weapons dealer whose personalized airplane came fully equip with stripper poles. I just don't want you to lose sight of what's important here.
The fact that I didn't fully integrate into the college scene until 18 is probably the only reason I completed the JARVIS AI or graduated summa cum laude a year earlier. Hey, no one else wanted to hang around a kid the same age as their baby brother but three times as smart as them and I needed someone to play computer games against. But once I hit that magic number, oh man, it's like people suddenly remember that I had money. Like, lots of money and none of the adult responsibility that lets you know how to spend it. At the same time, I had started my Master's program and was actually taking it seriously. Or at least more seriously than I'd ever taken anything in my life. At that point I had two interests: being popular, and academics. Sure, it might sound weird but it turns out you can be working on as many degrees in the higher scientific fields as you want, if you're 18 year old with unlimited funds people will flock to you. Okay, maybe I had a little too much fun for a couple of years, but I just spent three of what were suppose to be the peak years of a person's life crammed in a dorm room trying to please unpleasable professors and complaining to the only person who would listen – an AI unit I had to build myself. You'd need a few drinks in you after that, too. Besides, by 21 I had Ph.D.s in electrical engineering and two areas of physics. I was allowed to party.
Oh, right, I guess I should mention that's the same year my mom and dad died in that car crash. Usually I don't have to mention... I mean, it was all over the news, huge story for weeks with every paper in the US and some from outside trying to get a hold of me for a “poor little orphan” quote. I guess that might have affected me somewhat. It's not like we even talked, really. I'd come home for a couple holidays and saw dad at a few engineering conferences some of my mentors took me to, but by that time we were really just acquaintances. Anyway, it didn't really have anything to do with my drinking. That was just the usual college party circuit, you know the deal.
Technically I was the CEO of Stark Industries from that point, but Obadiah took the reign for a few months while I squared away everything else I had going on. By the time I was officially made the head of the board I had a head full of ideas on where exactly Stark Industries was headed. The first meeting I told the board members that my dad might have been a great man who fought in a great war, but that time was long gone. We were going to build smarter weapons, better systems, technology my dad never even dreamed of. I was the youngest CEO at the time, and I was going to make this a young company. Not some dealer living off a great legacy, but a cutting edge competitor. Their head start to the future of technological advancements? Well, they were looking right at him.
And I did it, too. In three years we had the majority of the Pentagon’s contracts. By 1999 we produced well over 70% of new products used by our armed forces. It went right off the conveyer belt at Stark Industries and into the war zone. Sure, I started with a foot up but it was me who created the empire.
So, yeah, I guess I have no one else to blame when I got myself blown up and kidnapped. Okay, technically Obadiah is the one who set it all up, paying some terrorist cell to kill me on my road trip through hell, but they only did it because they were desperate for the same piece of the action the Pentagon was starving for. They did it because I gave them all the reasons to. Better weapons, smarter weapons, the highest grade, best at what they do style death machines that money could buy.
Do I sound a bit bitter? Good. I fucking hate those assholes even if they are the reason everything changed.
See, today Stark Industries is like a beacon of hope. I use beacon pretty literally to. It lights up even the New York skyline, and all of it's clean, renewable energy. That's what I do now. I help people, I make the world a better place. Not by playing “who's got the bigger bomb” but with better sources of energy, more efficient medical technology. You know, the kind of thing that doesn't typically encourage some insane terrorist to kidnap you and make you his personal weapons making pig.
Unfortunately, the news seem to love showing off missiles and tanks with the Stark Industries logo branded on the side even though most of that equipment is well over three years old. Trust me, if I had known what they were being used for I wouldn't have made them so fucking durable.
Anyway, it might have take me some 40 odd years but eventually I had a change of heart which lead to a change in the whole stated objective of the company: no more dealing in weapons, not in any capacity.
Oh, for Christ's sake. Don't give me the whole “what about that Iron Man Suit you just mentioned? Didn't you claim it had the ability to take on an alien invasion?” spiel. First off, I didn't “claim” anything – I did it. Come on, folks, there were aliens over Manhattan! You can miss one episode of the Simpsons for this! For those of you that did catch the news reports, I was the red and gold guy beating up the flying slug missile ships. You might remember me. Or maybe you caught the little Christmas surprise where me and my buddy War Machine rescued the President from an exploding oil rig and then my girlfriend punched a hole right through some douche bag made of fire (technically regenerating nanocells, but that doesn't have the same ring to it).
I'm just saying. Iron Man isn't a weapon, he's a hero, and if you need proof well there it is: how many times has a weapon gotten to make out with the hot leading lady while fire explodes in the background? That's pretty much the turf of James Bond and, oh yeah, me.
"-And now that we've got all that boring business talk out of the way - a proper toast."
Tony raises his champagne glass, peering out just over the top of his sunglasses to inspect the scene before him and can't help this feeling something is missing. This is far from his first official opening of a Stark Industry office building although, sure, typically these affairs are more black tie galas and less midwork day Target brand shorts, but the feeling goes deeper than that. Something feels fundamentally off and Tony's head has already kicked in some quick calculations.
Adoring crowd hanging on his every word? Check. Although, alright, to be completely fair it isn't so much a crowd as a small splattering off relatively new, less than top notch employees. Not exactly the high powered heads of state he's use to rubbing elbows with, but hey, as much as Tony likes to think of himself as a one man show you can't hold down an entire company with just one man, even if he is a confident, highly capable, utterly charming genius who - in a mere matter of months - has managed to sell the patents, save the cash, and raise enough capital to buy himself a nice little single story in a downtown Manhattan office highrise where, as of noon yesterday, the latest technological enterprise, Stark Industries, would start it's operations. Sure, he's use to working with literally the best minds that money could buy (not too mention Hollywood groupies looking to be photographed anywhere near the industries top selling playboy superhero) but who says you can't get the job done with a bunch of recent college grads who will work for just practically nothing? It's all in the products, and Tony is sure that his designs will attract the talent soon enough.
The offices themselves were shiny and new or, well, as shiny and new as they are going to get in a 50 year old building. Maybe not exactly the way he would have designed them, but hey who needs Brazilian marble when you have 70s chic? The important thing is that it's the start of a brand new enterprise and, yeah, it's missing that cutting Stark futuristic look and his name could maybe be printed a little bigger over the entrance way, plus they decided on skipping the whole fancy ribbon cutting but honestly Tony had never been much for a -- who the fuck is he kidding? He misses the shows, the cameras, the attention, the whole shebang. But what he's got is an actual, functioning company which is more than he could say when he was standing in this space three months earlier so, you know what?
"To breaking this place in the proper, classy way a Stark can," and with that Tony threw back the whole glass of champagne. It was cheap and tasted mostly of off brand alcohol but damn if it didn't go down, and he even earned himself a few cheers. Hey, you can't say that he doesn't know how to throw a party, even if the company isn't exactly up to par.
Grabbing a second glass Tony slides past the small pack of employees, towards the second set of entry doors. Standing there more like a statue than an actual person is his latest model in line of assistants. Not model like he designing them, more like actually could be in the modelling business, if you know, they had that kind of brain power. That seems to be something strangely lacking in any of the, what is it now? Nine? Women he's hired into the position. Hey, she's got a hell of a smile, though and everyone has a learning curve. This one is going to be it, she's going to be the one worth keeping.
Tony approaches her with a slightly cocked smile, snapping his finger as if identifying a long time friend. In reality what he's doing is trying to slur through as much as the alphabet as possible to see if he can't stumble on her name if purely by accident. "Ta-Sa-Mo-"
"Farrah."
"Right like the..." Tony sort of motions at his own head, because you know, the hair and everything and what else do people remember about--? Okay so maybe this one is a little too young to get that reference, fair enough.
"Your mail." She doesn't seem to get what he means or really care, keeping up her car sales smile and holding out a couple of envelopes their edges just hanging there in the air.
Tony stares down at the pile with a worried smile that you could almost call a frown, you know, if he were in that type of mood. Which he isn't, because this is a party and he's got plenty to celebrate so. "You know what, Farrah, why don't you just, you know, put it on that desk right over there," Tony slips around here to his office door, purposefully keeping his arms tucked into his side so she doesn't have a chance to shove it at him. He nods aimlessly towards a desk, any desk. You know what, why else has he hired these guys, certainly someone here is getting paid to sort mail and if not, well, it's a useful skill to pick up. Think of it as on the job training.
"I'm just going to head up to the labs, get some work done," Tony rambles as he opens the door with one hand, his other holding the champagne glass out as if to make the point he couldn't possible find a way to carry all those, what, four letters? Not when he's this busy, clearly. "Leaving you in charge. Make sure no one drinks us out of our budget." He finishes with a flirty wink but honestly he's more surprised than anything else. Who knew that his lips could even physically form that word, much less use it in a full and complete sentence?
The doors shut tight behind him leaving Tony standing in a small, dark hallway. More or an room, really, and he waits while the security systems do their thing. He finishes off the next glass of champagne - wow, this stuff really doesn't get better with experience, does it? - and loosens up his tie. In the dark of the entrance the faintest blue light bleeds through from under his shirts where it's been carefully concealed.
The doors slides open and Tony steps into his private labs and it might be that his collar no longer seems so stifling or that that cheap stuff is actually worth it's weight but he's starting to feel a little more comfortable. "JARVIS."
There is a slow cranking nose of equipment that is just a bit too cheap to handle what it's been wired to do trying to meet the demands of millions of bytes of data suddenly swarming through it. The soft blue lights of the lab flicker at first, struggling to get themselves up and operational. Hey, look, he might be a genius mechanic but he has been working on a limited budget here. You recreating one of the world's most advanced AIs with a bunch of parts from the sales at radio shack and see if your lights don't flicker a bit. Still, even straining against the effort sound the lab is glowing and there is a whirl of a slightly uncanny but mostly familiar voice echoing from speakers in desperate need of an upgrade. "Good morning, sir," the computer might sound a little less natural than Tony is use to, but it's definitely JARVIS. "And congratulations on Stark Industries official opening,"
Tony shrugs off the compliment, partly because he's too cool to take that kind of praise and partly because, hey, he's a man that built an AI system programmed to give him praise, you have to try and insert a little humility in there sometime. "Formalities, really. Wait until we're in Forbes, then you can congratulate me."
"I'll make a note sir."
"As long as you've got notepad open, jot down a new employment ad."
"Secretarial, I assume." Ah, right, there is some of the old JARVIS. Tony swings himself into his seat, spinning around before he catches himself at the desk, head back as he takes in the whole lab. He still can't shake that feeling, you know? That feeling that something is missing. Sure, the place isn't a perfect reconstruction, but the materials he used back in Malibu had cost him billions, and considering what he had to work with, even Tony was damn impressed with the job he'd done, and he's a pretty hard guy to impress.
"Someone a little less 80s," Tony explains, because some on who even names their daughter Farrah anymore? And then doesn't even bother telling her who she's named after? Is that really the sort of person they want representing Stark Industries, especially with the official opening and all. "Maybe a red head," and now he's just musing, his eyes more focused on the designs in front of him. "And a bit taller."
Honest, he doesn't even expect JARVIS to be listening to him at this point, so he's a bit surprised when the AI answers. "Should I just go ahead a put it under Personal then, sir?"
Tony snorts, rolling his eyes upwards towards one of the few cameras he had installed, making sure the computer could see the face he's making. "Hilarious," he draws out, leaning back in his chair, staring up at the camera lens like it's a sort of eye contact. It's the closest thing this system has, anyway, and in a way it's strangely comforting. Back home Tony doesn't have to worry where to look or speak, the system is programmed through out all living spaces and captures nearly every moment. Here, though, JARVIS can only watch over him in this room and his suit, which is under lock and key because no way he's risking anyone in this fucked up world getting a hold of that sort of technology. No, for once Iron Man is keeping a low profile, staying under the radar in every sense (and not just in the kind where he literally built in an anti-radar stealth shield). Hey, he never asked to be pulled into this place, why should he bother to save it? Tony has his own problems to deal with like raising up a fledgling company and getting home.
Home.
It makes his heart sink, and not in the way that says his arc reactor is being overpowered. It's a much less comfortable feeling, something Tony can't shake but he feels like a few more bottles of that champagne, might, and too bad he left that shit downstairs. That's what's been missing but it's been missing for a while now, no reason to turn all mushy over it all the sudden, just because he's finally gotten the company off the ground. Just because he's one step closer to gathering the resources needed to get back there, and sure right now he doesn't even have a clue what those resources would be, but Tony's been around his own world enough to know that money and power can get you an awful lot closer to these things than being some sucker on the street with a hole in your chest.
"Wanted: Venture Capital / Technology firm seeking Executive Assistant who can take the lead on a variety of logistical, research secretarial and business priorities. Attention to detail, expert time-management, excellent personal skills, ability to function under demanding circumstance and completing multiple scheduled as well as suddenly required tasks Exact responsibilities will include various personal and administrative tasks as directed."
Tony stares at the words for a while as JARVIS flashes them on the screen over his designs. "Kind of makes me come off as a bit-"
"Difficult to manage, sir?"
"I was going to go with uptight asshole, but sure." Tony's finger tips brush the screen, giving his blessing to send it off into cyberspace. Hey, look, if it has even a bit more luck than the last nine he'll considerate a near partial success. "Alright, JARVIS, let's get back to getting these people up to speed." And at least for now, Tony is in his element, even if the whirlling of high powered computer fans does make him feel like he's trapped back in the 90s.
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