One minute I held the key
Mar. 1st, 2009 12:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starktechWho: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iron_liver and chronosyoudidnt
Where: The secret, very bottom lab of StarkTech.
When: Late Sunday night, March 28th.
Warnings: None.
Summary: A plan comes to a close, but with a blast of an ending.
Format: Practically a Solo Log to start, followed by Para and Jill's obscene tl;dr
For some time now, he was wondering if anyone was suspicious. He had kept the machine under wraps, and nobody even knew he'd gotten his hands on the plans to the porter. How could they? Even the people he'd invaded the HIVE's labs with hadn't even suspected, despite the fact that it had been he alone who deleted their porter semantics. They had only his word to go on, and he had made certain to delete every trace of the data from their databases, but he'd done so only after each piece of the data had been carefully transmitted to his mind.
That was the beautiful thing about this virus, he could simultaneously download information, delete it from record, and trace anywhere that the data could have been, effectively ensuring that their backups had been taken care of. He wouldn't trust this device to the people out on the west coast. As much as he loathed the porter and the people it brought in, he also recognized that it did bring in the heroic elements. Would the HIVE do the same? Most likely not.
He did, however, trust himself. As much as he thought of this world as a place he could get by in, it was not his home. He had tried to think of it in that fashion, but the thoughts could never come. He tried to care about the people, but the obsession with the people he'd sworn to protect reminded him hour after hour that his place was at home. At his desk on the helicarrier. He desperately wanted to get back to his place.
First, however, he had things to fix. Even with the sporadic and skewed information he'd received, he knew there were things that needed to be eliminated from the time-line. He had a list, and he had a plan for implementing the list. It was simple, and almost too simple, but Tony knew that the more complicated the plan, the more difficult it would be to implement it. He'd managed to calculate the difference in the way that this world's time flowed in opposition to his.
The plan was to place himself back into his world right around when he'd gotten the Extremis, before things had gotten out of hand. His lab was filled with suits during that time, and his would be just another one in the gallery, not even noticeable if he aimed himself right. Hell, he could port himself into the middle of the desert, and he would be able to do what he wanted to do. He just simply wanted to get a sight of home, his real home. His lab, his company, his world.
He planned to put out a priority e-mail to himself, encoded to the teeth, with one of his private codes to it. That alone would catch his attention, but it wouldn't leave his e-mail box either. He knew how to ensure that he would read it, and what would make him consider each point. It would sound like the ramblings of a crazed man, but with the right information to begin the letter, he would take notice.
He'd been uncertain as to what to change. He'd spent a great deal of time over a virtual cork board, connecting the dots, piecing together what would work and what wouldn't work. He'd carefully ran the calculations, ensuring that things would go the right way. The SHRA itself was necessary, he believed this. He had to, or every single thing he'd done had been for nothing. Cap's death hadn't been. He hoped his subtle suggestion to himself regarding any captured traitors would ring true. He was a smart man, he knew he would apply that appropriately. His other hints had to be much more subtle, but still firm. Do not allow Thor's clone to be unleashed. He had worded it so that it said “Nordic projects”, and to keep a firm grasp on the electronics that kept that at bay. He had also traced the lines, and there was no doubt in his mind. He could prevent the deaths, and he could prevent the mistrust, but he had to ensure that the Skrulls didn't invade. He left that implicitly, to trust nobody, and to figure out a way to detect them. The last thing, a small notation and carefully placed as an afterthought, even though the fact was prevalent in his mind was to ensure that entities were left in prison. He didn't know if he would pick that one up until it was too late, and thus the issues with the Skrull Invasion were more important to prevent, but if at all possible, he would keep his team, his SHIELD, and his suit from being desecrated.
The news about his apparent coma and brain deletion had added a level of urgency to his work. Before, it had been a project he'd toyed with, hoping still that the Porter would just send him home, or at least that he could ensure that he could put an end to the things that were happening here, to affect what was occuring back home.
Now he wasn't so certain, not if he was practically dead. Not if he couldn't remember. His cognitive abilities were his pride, they were his true power, and he didn't have them anymore. He wouldn't let that stand, so his idea, his little project had grown in the basement of StarkTech. He didn't allow anyone in this room, of course, nobody knew it existed. It wasn't cleaned by the staff, it wasn't even on the records. He'd kept the bottom levels only accessible by his own technopathic abilities, nobody else could even find it.
He'd been here for days now. He kept in contact with the outside world through his suit, making appearances through text and digitally when appropriate. He kept at least enough food to keep him going, but he'd been locking himself away down here for longer and longer, finally near the last stretches, he'd been in here since Thursday. He knew nobody suspected, after all, Iron Man had been at the battle with the man creating the havoc in the city.
He had to swallow down the bile at the thought of that particular incident. Working with that team was unfavorable, but he'd been able to control himself by not being present. It still stung, it was still something that had to be fixed.
Tests were being performed at that time, sending small items through time, and then watching to see if they were found. Most of them had been. He'd been careful to make sure they were things like relics of the period, such as a collector's sword sent to ancient Japan, or a sixties era cup sent back, only to resurface as a collectible later. Things of little consequence, except for their monetary value. Something he had plenty of, actually.
It was almost ready. He didn't have any more welding to do, no more physical labor. He'd had his suit come down the elevator for the last preparations, and it was a haphazard mess on one of the tables as he worked with the programming. He didn't know if anyone in the city could see the temporal distortions from his experiments, but it was never a bad thing to be certain, and so he was merely finishing up his work. Almost ready. Almost there.
Finally.
iron_liver and chronosyoudidntWhere: The secret, very bottom lab of StarkTech.
When: Late Sunday night, March 28th.
Warnings: None.
Summary: A plan comes to a close, but with a blast of an ending.
Format: Practically a Solo Log to start, followed by Para and Jill's obscene tl;dr
For some time now, he was wondering if anyone was suspicious. He had kept the machine under wraps, and nobody even knew he'd gotten his hands on the plans to the porter. How could they? Even the people he'd invaded the HIVE's labs with hadn't even suspected, despite the fact that it had been he alone who deleted their porter semantics. They had only his word to go on, and he had made certain to delete every trace of the data from their databases, but he'd done so only after each piece of the data had been carefully transmitted to his mind.
That was the beautiful thing about this virus, he could simultaneously download information, delete it from record, and trace anywhere that the data could have been, effectively ensuring that their backups had been taken care of. He wouldn't trust this device to the people out on the west coast. As much as he loathed the porter and the people it brought in, he also recognized that it did bring in the heroic elements. Would the HIVE do the same? Most likely not.
He did, however, trust himself. As much as he thought of this world as a place he could get by in, it was not his home. He had tried to think of it in that fashion, but the thoughts could never come. He tried to care about the people, but the obsession with the people he'd sworn to protect reminded him hour after hour that his place was at home. At his desk on the helicarrier. He desperately wanted to get back to his place.
First, however, he had things to fix. Even with the sporadic and skewed information he'd received, he knew there were things that needed to be eliminated from the time-line. He had a list, and he had a plan for implementing the list. It was simple, and almost too simple, but Tony knew that the more complicated the plan, the more difficult it would be to implement it. He'd managed to calculate the difference in the way that this world's time flowed in opposition to his.
The plan was to place himself back into his world right around when he'd gotten the Extremis, before things had gotten out of hand. His lab was filled with suits during that time, and his would be just another one in the gallery, not even noticeable if he aimed himself right. Hell, he could port himself into the middle of the desert, and he would be able to do what he wanted to do. He just simply wanted to get a sight of home, his real home. His lab, his company, his world.
He planned to put out a priority e-mail to himself, encoded to the teeth, with one of his private codes to it. That alone would catch his attention, but it wouldn't leave his e-mail box either. He knew how to ensure that he would read it, and what would make him consider each point. It would sound like the ramblings of a crazed man, but with the right information to begin the letter, he would take notice.
He'd been uncertain as to what to change. He'd spent a great deal of time over a virtual cork board, connecting the dots, piecing together what would work and what wouldn't work. He'd carefully ran the calculations, ensuring that things would go the right way. The SHRA itself was necessary, he believed this. He had to, or every single thing he'd done had been for nothing. Cap's death hadn't been. He hoped his subtle suggestion to himself regarding any captured traitors would ring true. He was a smart man, he knew he would apply that appropriately. His other hints had to be much more subtle, but still firm. Do not allow Thor's clone to be unleashed. He had worded it so that it said “Nordic projects”, and to keep a firm grasp on the electronics that kept that at bay. He had also traced the lines, and there was no doubt in his mind. He could prevent the deaths, and he could prevent the mistrust, but he had to ensure that the Skrulls didn't invade. He left that implicitly, to trust nobody, and to figure out a way to detect them. The last thing, a small notation and carefully placed as an afterthought, even though the fact was prevalent in his mind was to ensure that entities were left in prison. He didn't know if he would pick that one up until it was too late, and thus the issues with the Skrull Invasion were more important to prevent, but if at all possible, he would keep his team, his SHIELD, and his suit from being desecrated.
The news about his apparent coma and brain deletion had added a level of urgency to his work. Before, it had been a project he'd toyed with, hoping still that the Porter would just send him home, or at least that he could ensure that he could put an end to the things that were happening here, to affect what was occuring back home.
Now he wasn't so certain, not if he was practically dead. Not if he couldn't remember. His cognitive abilities were his pride, they were his true power, and he didn't have them anymore. He wouldn't let that stand, so his idea, his little project had grown in the basement of StarkTech. He didn't allow anyone in this room, of course, nobody knew it existed. It wasn't cleaned by the staff, it wasn't even on the records. He'd kept the bottom levels only accessible by his own technopathic abilities, nobody else could even find it.
He'd been here for days now. He kept in contact with the outside world through his suit, making appearances through text and digitally when appropriate. He kept at least enough food to keep him going, but he'd been locking himself away down here for longer and longer, finally near the last stretches, he'd been in here since Thursday. He knew nobody suspected, after all, Iron Man had been at the battle with the man creating the havoc in the city.
He had to swallow down the bile at the thought of that particular incident. Working with that team was unfavorable, but he'd been able to control himself by not being present. It still stung, it was still something that had to be fixed.
Tests were being performed at that time, sending small items through time, and then watching to see if they were found. Most of them had been. He'd been careful to make sure they were things like relics of the period, such as a collector's sword sent to ancient Japan, or a sixties era cup sent back, only to resurface as a collectible later. Things of little consequence, except for their monetary value. Something he had plenty of, actually.
It was almost ready. He didn't have any more welding to do, no more physical labor. He'd had his suit come down the elevator for the last preparations, and it was a haphazard mess on one of the tables as he worked with the programming. He didn't know if anyone in the city could see the temporal distortions from his experiments, but it was never a bad thing to be certain, and so he was merely finishing up his work. Almost ready. Almost there.
Finally.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-03-29 02:28 am (UTC)So reluctant as he was to leave this porter behind, David opened another time tunnel and escaped back to Big Ben before the porter could power up fully. He would just have to come back.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-29 03:03 am (UTC)That easily? He wasn't used to someone just giving up like that, but it may have been his words, but this was something he doubted. He may be decent with coercion, but men like Clinton didn't just run away, not with the look that had been in his eye as he looked at the Porter. There was more to the man than he was saying. Perhaps it had been the idea that he could go home, or perhaps he was obsessed with the idea of having the lone porter that wasn't under the control of the ghost residing in it.
Tony didn't know, and he stored the data away for later. He resumed the startup process, his mind flashing through his checklist while he finished setting the trajectory.
This was it.
He swallowed, replaying everything he'd done to the device in his mind one last time, and he breathed out. A long breath, his inner countdown displaying the numbers one by one.
5...
The machine started to power up, a high whine echoing through the room as the lights flashed brighter, and Tony braced himself.
4...
The noise heightened, and the near spherical pieces of the device started to rotate, slowly, but quickly moving faster and faster as the whine continued to increase, the noise needing to be filtered out of Tony's ears by his helmet.
3...
Silence. He could hear his breathing in his helmet, and the lights continued to intensify in his vision. He took one last cursory glance over the city, the vision spreading across his face, the devastation from yesterday's battle still prevalent.
2...
He readied himself, closing his eyes.
He was going home.
1...
He opened his eyes, snapping them open to wait for the vision to change from the sparse, large lab to his own, filled with every suit he'd ever made.
He waited, practically seeing it in his vision, and for a moment, he felt that hope that he was home, he could fix everything. It worked. He could see it.
Then, red flashed across his vision. He readjusted his helmet to hear the world around him, and the high whine continued, a low rumble underneath the sound.
Then there was a loud crack, and electricity spread across the room, from the floor of the porter to the roof, arcing from his suit.
He knew that he would have to rebuild in that moment. This wasn't working, why wasn't it working? he didn't leave a thought towards his life, the suit was here to protect him.
But he had forgotten the lack of a fit due to the fight last night. The lightning covered the suit, hissing and sparking against it, ineffective until it found one of the cracks. The lightning, once finding a new ground raced in, and spread underneath his suit, and it fell to pieces around him.
His underarmor could only protect so much, but the lightning was already making work on the porter, and there was a loud "foom" of sound, a grumble and a groan, before heat shot out.
Fire blossomed under his feet, and around his head. He attempted to break through the ring of machinery, and managed to break it, and land before the device before the entire room filled with smoke, fire, and everything went black.