Logs:A Farewell to Arms

A Farewell to Arms
In Which Robots Collide
Dramatis Personae Tony, Bruce
In Absentia	2023-09-18 (Part of Avengers TP)
Location Off the coast of Venezuela
The small unnamed island off the coast of Venezuela would make a splendid vacation spot if not for its lack of... well, anything. Besides several miles of beach, brush, and trees -- the latter clustering tight at the southern end before giving way to a rocky crest at the farthest tip. Here along the northern shore, though, it's much more welcoming... a bright, sandy beach with shallow green water, and... huh. Waitasecond... is that -- a ship? It is! Right there on the shoreline, in the middle of the afternoon! Its nose-end clearly wedged up atop of the beach. The SS Vargas looks like it's seen better days -- it's a container ship, pretty beefy by the look of it -- big enough to hold four rows of four shipping containers stacked lengthwise in a single layer atop of its deck. The entire ship has a slight list to it -- the crew is currently onboard, making preparations to try and unbeach this thing as soon as the tide comes in. At least... that was the plan. But something's happened up on the deck. Hard to make out, but... k-rkkkow! -- yep, that's definitely gunfire. "{Fall back! Fall back!}" the captain -- a rugged-looking Tom Selleck son of a bitch, clad in a leather-brown jacket with a black wool-knit cap -- bellows in Castillan. He's waving his men back from one of the cargo containers they've been defending, clutching a 9mm pistol and pointing it at the sky. "{Fall the fuck back!}" The reason he's bellowing at them to fall back is probably because... krrow! krrow! -- on account of the guy that a small squad of four crewmates are firing pistols at. He's about fifteen feet farther down the deck, striding forward with a casual gait... as bullets slap into his chest with wet plp, plp noises. They clearly make holes... holes that sizzle, glow bright orange, then proceed to seal closed on their own. What becomes of the bullets? Who knows? The 30-something man striding through gunfire is bare-chested, about 6'7", covered in tattoos... tan-skin, with a very short crewcut. Built like a professional MMA fighter. He looks positively bored as of this moment -- the gunfire seems to be more a distraction than anything. He stops to plunge his fist (which is suddenly glowing bright orange-red) through the corrugated side of one of the metal cargo containers, peeling it open like it's a can of sardines. He peers inside at the various crates: "Ain't in here either." "Keep looking, Cinny," an older woman's voice -- clearly Slavic -- responds, transmitting to him across an open frequency. Aside from the captain, 'Cinny', and the four men currently firing at him -- there are twenty other men on deck, all of them running off toward the back of the ship to arm themselves. Somewhere, someone starts up a ship-wide klaxon. 'Cinny' grimaces, then proceeds to kick the side of the cargo bin he just looked inside. Its wall buckles, the whole thing screeching across the deck for several feet before it lists a little, nearly tumbling over from the sheer force. He moves on to the next one... The stealth jet overhead is, quite as it shouldn't, drawing very little attention to itself. Inside it, the same cannot be said for Tony Stark. He's been complaining vociferously about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s near-paranoid level of information siloing -- given that he's long since gotten into some of their servers to double check that they have all the intel he thinks they need for this mission, at this point he complaining is likely performative. As they veer near the island, he's turning his attention from the data taken from S.H.I.E.L.D. to the monitors and scanners tracking the island below. "Fashionably late to this party, I guess." Tony is taking stock of what life forms the sensors tell him are below. "-- that's fine." He's gone to clap Bruce on the shoulder. Companionably? Maybe not. It's kind of firm. "-- Just means you get to make an entrance." And with that, a hatch in the plane is opening and -- should there have been warning here? There is not, he's simply pushing Bruce out of the plane. Taking a brief glance around them before he drops out after the other man, evidently fairly unfussed about the lack of a single parachute between them. Bruce has abided Tony's complaining with a kind of resigned and distantly amused patience as he helped to sort through the intel. He is in fact still quite absorbed looking over the data when Tony starts going on about being fashionably late--he's always saying things like that, and usually it's nothing to worry about. Usually. Perhaps he's starting to consider that it might be something to worry about this time. He straightens at the clap on his shoulder, blinking owlishly at Tony. "Wait, what do you mean make an--" The rest of this dissolves into a shriek of terror when he's unceremoniously ejected from the plane. His shriek of terror shortly dissolves into Hulk's roar of surprise as their body ripples and transforms in freefall, splintering yet another pair of glasses and shredding their very nice shirt and slacks. Hulk flails his arms, more baffled than altogether displeased about finding himself suddenly in front and airborne. "WHY WE FLYING?" he asks, his Outdoor Voice for once correctly calibrated to be heard over the wind that whips past them as Tony catches up. More gunfire rattles out from below; more bullets plp harmlessly against Cinnamon. He grunts, spinning to slam his fist through another cargo canister's side, the sharp hiss of melting metal engulfing his solid fist. Once again, he squeezes his fingers and pulls... peeling a layer of metal back so he can peer inside. And then... he grins: "Found it." "{Thank whatever shitstain spat you out,}" comes the woman's reply -- spoken in native Russian. She adds, in English: "Grab it and move. We don't need anymore--" Cinnamon's already peeling a Cinnamon-shaped doorway into the cargo box; the crew members in the back are still scrambling for bigger guns. When his operator's communication suddenly trails off, though, he pauses; tilting his head up to the sky, he lifts a hand to his ear, brow crumpling: "--anymore what? Sage?" Sage's response is terse: "...one moment, there's..." A pause. She's double-checking something. "...incoming... from... uh. Above?" "What?" Cinnamon's head cranes up, squinting past the noonday sun to look at... okay, what the fuck is that? That is a booming green monster hurtling down towards them, obviously! Just behind Hulk's very eye-catching form Tony is hardly noticeable -- at least until a streak of red and gold that's dropped out of the plane hatch behind him aligns itself to his falling body, encases him in gleaming armor. "I'm flying," he tells Hulk, now that it's true, "-- you're falling. Needed your help, big guy. Those people stole something, we gotta get it back." And in a blaze he's descending to hover just above the container that Cinnamon has just peeled open. FRIDAY is already hard at work -- trying to match Cinnamon's face to any known databases, trying to trace where Sage's signal is coming from. "I need this," he tells Cinnamon. "Trust me, you don't want --" His head tilts briefly towards Hulk's incoming figure, "-- my friend to have to ask." "HULK FALL!" Hulk seems--actually kind of delighted by this idea. His volume lowers when Tony dons his armor, as if he understands that the suit augments the man's senses. "Hulk help," he promises earnestly as Tony falls--pardon, flies past him. Soon he's falling past Tony again, denting the deck of the ship as he slams down next to the cargo container under dispute. "DON'T STEAL THINGS!" he bellows at Cinnamon, though in fairness he's not asking. Not yet. "Wh--" Cinnamon steps back as a suit of red and gold armor hovers above the cargo container. His hand remains on his ear: "...izzat... Sage, this thing one of yours?" Sage is silent. Meanwhile, FRIDAY's pinging signals -- she's traced the transmission as coming all the way from Brazil, back to Argentina, back to... where the fuck is 'Pigeon Forge, Tennessee'? FRIDAY's yet to pull up any files on the guy standing in front of them. When Hulk slams down into the deck, he steps back -- eyebrow lifting to the stratosphere. "Don't know who they are, but--" Sage's fingers start clicking keys. "Too many cooks -- adding a palate cleanser. You take Jolly Green Giant; Saffron's got Mr. Roboto." Half a mile to the north, on the ocean -- a distant thwoom echoes out. A thick plume of smoke surges up into the air, angled toward the SS Vargas. Cinnamon's eyes snap to the distant incoming object as it arcs upward. His eyes move to Stark; he grins: "Saffron? Shit, man. Nice knowin' you." He then proceeds to rush Hulk like an incoming linebacker. Charging with enough force to smash through concrete. He intends to tackle him into one of the cargo containers right behind him -- and possibly keep going, if Hulk doesn't stop him. Meanwhile, Stark can hear that whistling getting closer and closer. Like an incoming artillery shell. Whatever it is, it's big -- too slow to be a rocket. In about 8 seconds, it's going to be right on top of them. FRIDAY is going from tracing the signals to attempting to jam them, as Tony drops lower to take a quick peek at whatever cargo it is they're currently about to duke it out over. If he's worried about Hulk in the flying tackle, the blank helmet and its glowing eyes are not a very good indicator. The impassiveness of the expression makes it look oddly flat as he tilts his head up, pulls himself up higher: "-- FRIDAY, you got a bead on that?" is quiet to his AI companion. Does she? He's heading towards the source of the noise regardless. Though his repulsors are optimistically charging already, he's -- also, more pessimistically, prepared to veer very fast away if necessary. Hulk's eyes go wide when Cinnamon charges, though he doesn't really look alarmed so much as just taken aback as the man tackles him. He roars and plants his feet now--a little late, but between his impressive bulk and even more impressive strength he slows them down and manages not to crash... ...all the way through the cargo container behind him, anyway. Still, they slam into it hard enough and dent it deep enough to burst it open along the seams. "NOT NICE TO KNOW YOU!" He takes hold of Cinnamon and--maybe excessively optimistic here, himself--tries to fling him over the side of the ship. Sage's voice vanishes in a crackle of confusion as FRIDAY jams the signal. Stark finds the interior of the cargo bay is largely empty, save for three large fancy-looking crates -- the kind with their own internal power supply and cooling system -- all of which feature a corporate logo: ALCHEMAX. Cinnamon's bellowing out a battle-cry as he charges Hulk straight-on. Despite Hulk's size, Cinnamon's used to being the strongest in a fight -- so when the velocity starts to slow, Hulk's feet scraping across the deck... well, Cinnamon just keeps pushing, expecting to push all the way through. When they hit the cargo container and just dent it -- he briefly blinks, startled... and looks up at Hulk, eyes wide: "...the hell--?!" That's all he manages to get out -- right before Hulk snatches him up and flings him off the side of the ship. There's a brief bellow of curses, right before... THNK. He hits sand. Hard. Cinnamon's getting back up just as Tony's rising to meet the incoming coffin. That's what it looks like; a giant steel-plated coffin. As it swoops in, it sheds its plates -- tiny controlled explosions eject section after section. Pieces fly off in every direction, like a rocket rapidly cycling through stages. Until... one last plate flings away, landing on the deck, where it wobbles and spins. The rest of the payload swoops right past Tony, slamming down into another cargo container. Hard enough to crumple it; hard enough to make the deck beneath crack. Rising from the impact crater is a very large man... clad from head to toe in a massive suit of plate armor. The armor creaks; pneumatic actuators hiss. A low, thrumming bzzzzz fills the air. He's nearly 7 foot tall, clad in high-density metal. The armor is covered in a patch-work of wires, off-brand circuits, and various ramshackle devices -- like somebody from Radioshack upended the entire inventory in a desperate attempt to modify it. But that faceplate... that face is the one part they didn't touch. Pure metal, engraved with a vicious, eternally disapproving scowl. A silent 'sneer of cold command'. The ejected plate that landed nearby on the deck settles down with a clatter. The surface bears the scorch marks of the controlled detonation that propelled it, along with one other notable detail: An old tourist sticker from the 60s. A pasture with sheep; beneath it, a stylized cursive caption: Greetings... from Latveria! Saffron Mark 3 -- aka, 'Nobody Tell Anybody What We Stole From You-Know-Who' -- cranes that sneer up to Stark. Its eyes glow red; a recorded audio clip plays with a synthesized screech: "Exterminate." Definitely not a reference to anything. The heavily modified, retrofitted robot lifts its arm and fires -- kr-kow! -- a puck that looks like it was soddered together from spare parts in a garage somewhere. It clunks right onto Tony's chest, locking on like a magnet -- and as Saffron curls its fist, an invisible electromagnetic tether starts to yank Stark toward it, twisting its torso around to hurl Tony at high speed -- directly at Hulk. Somewhere from below, Cinnamon flings himself back up to the edge of the ship... scrambling to catch the side, and pull himself up. "Oh, you gotta be --" is all Tony gets out at first, before he's very distracted by being coercively yoinked into the Gravitron ride. He makes a very flashy projectile, whirling around and gleaming high-speed through the air. Hopefully the solid THUNK he makes as he collides with Hulk is not indicative of any serious damage -- it seems not, at least, because his repulsors are powering back up to right himself with a quickness. Should he apologize to Hulk? Did Hulk even NOTICE? Questions for another Tony, another Time. Tony is reaching for the puck on his chest; there's a brief brighter glow from the arc reactor in his chest before he prises it heavily off to discard it onto one of the badly-abused shipping containers. "-- You all have been busy thieves." Maybe that is appreciative, as he looks over the Doombot, but it's not appreciative enough that the arc reactor in his chest is not still powering up, building its charge patiently. Less patient are the barrage of missiles that take launch; shooting themselves straight towards the Doombot as he shoots himself into the air. Hulk turns around just in time to catch an entire Iron Man right in the chest, which may be fair enough given he'd just done a bit of throwing Cinnamon around. Regardless it doesn't seem to have either hurt him or bother him particularly. "BAD ROBOT!" Hulk scolds the Doombot, but once Tony is on his feet--or, well, on his repulsors again and Cinnamon climbing back aboard, he leaves the metal-plated people to deal with each other. Cinnamon barely has time to get his feet back on the deck before Hulk is bearing down on him again, giant fist wound back for a devastating punch aimed at the man's left side. Saffron crosses its arms over its head and chest; the barrage of missiles strike it dead-on. A series of micro-detonations engulf it in a cloud of smoke and flame. Once it clears, Saffron's still standing -- though the attack bought Tony the time he needs to fly and charge the repulsor unimpeded. Well. Almost unimpeded. Something slid up from behind it as it took the barrage -- a shoulder-mounted mini-launcher. Once the smoke clears, it fires a high-speed missile of its own at Tony's chest. Said missile detonates an instant before impact -- delivering a payload of sticky white glue (?!) directly atop of that glowing chest-piece. Glue that's used to secure the thick steel cable the missile had been carrying -- the other end latched to the back of the robot. Saffron reels the line in at high speed (vrrrrrrrrr) as it uses its tremendous weight as leverage. Meanwhile, Cinnamon has just gotten over the rail of the ship as Hulk full-on charges him. He manages a strangled: "Oh come fucking ON--" right before -- KA-POW! The blow sends him tumbling across the deck, smashing into -- nearly through! -- yet another cargo container. The whole thing collapses around him as he craters into the center of it. His left arm is twisted at a weird angle... his whole body is starting to glow orange, highlighting veins as bright white. Wisps of smoke rise from his skin: "--fuckin'..." The sheets of metal around him soften into glowing slag as he pulls himself up, seizing his broken arm... and just cracking it back into place. The skin surrounding the break flashes; the bone mends. His whole body is emitting a low-key humming sound. "Alright, now you made me angry --" Saffron, immediately after firing off that glue-line, has turned its attention to Hulk. Its arms extend out to him, fists clenched. Metal plates surrounding both wrists rise up to reveal a dozen or so barrels, all of which open fire -- tchtchtchtchtchtchtch--. They let loose with a stream of high-speed shrapnel; probably not enough to seriously damage Hulk, but enough to sting like hell (and, more importantly, get his attention). All while Saffron is stomping toward him, trying to reel Stark down in close -- it seems to understand it can't let Tony stay at range. Notably, both the launcher and these wrist-mounted shrapnel-guns look like they were slapped on to the original robot. They also look like they were assembled in someone's garage with spare parts and a soldering iron. As if to highlight this, it plays another audio-sample -- AC/DC music: "Dirty deeds... DONE DIRT CHEAP!" Cinnamon's still getting up, but glowing brighter and brighter. Meanwhile, in the distance -- half a mile to the north, onboard the tugboat from which Saffron was launched -- a large transmission tower is unfolding, rising up high in the air... as Sage's voice crackles back in, cursing in her native Russian: "{Fucking son of a shit-spurting piss-slit--} Getting through -- sending you support --" It's going to take a little bit, but... half a dozen winged drones, each the size of a mini-fridge, each looking like they were put together from bits scavenged from flea markets, launch from the tugboat -- swooping in and approaching the SS Vargas. Tony is pushing back against the tugging, though the fierce pull of his repulsors manage only to slow the reeling and not actually stop it -- at least until he lifts an arm, a splay of lasers slicing neatly to sever the cable. Maybe he hasn't thought this plan through exceptionally well because the sudden loss of tension flings him back at probably a considerably higher speed than he intended; it's a second before he rights himself, before he stabilizes and twists to focus back on Saffron again. The Unibeam, when it blasts, is a fiercely concentrated spike of energy, aimed straight at the robot. The shrapnel does not penetrate Hulk's skin, but does, as intended, get his attention. Said attention comes in the form of a deafening roar. "BAD ROBOT!" he reiterates at greater volume as he whirls around and tears a long strip from the side of the cargo container he'd burst open earlier. The thing seems too flimsy and unwieldy to be used as a weapon, but it does have the benefit of reach. He swings the curled sheet metal like a gigantic slap bracelet at the Doombot's legs just about as Tony fires. The cable is cleaved in a flash of red; only a smoldering orange tip returns to Saffron's spinning shoulder-mounted reel. It continues to spray Hulk with shrapnel, striding forward while playing the audio clip from AC/DC's Dirty Deeds. "Concrete shoes... cyanide... TNT..." KLANG -- Hulk's swing connects with its leg; it's not enough to knock Saffron down, but enough to unbalance it mid-stride. This, in conjunction with Tony's Unibeam, sends it tumbling. Loose wiring and random circuitboards fling every way as it tumbles back, regaining control only when it slams a foot down and skids across the deck, its back against the rail. It looks like it's taken some significant damage from the blast -- one of its arms is making creaking noises, its chest-plating dented and cracked. "...done dirt cheap..." The rail creaks as Saffron rights itself... Shortly after Tony hit it with the beam, Saffron's been emitting a low repeating sound. It's now speeding up -- whum... whum... whum, whum, whum whum whumwhumwhum-- "Neckties... contracts..." "Surprise, motherfucker!" Cinnamon lunges for Hulk from behind -- aiming to leap atop of his back and wrap his arms in a (very stretched) sleeper hold around the giant's neck. His body is burning bright; wisps of smoke rise from him. Meanwhile -- the drones are coming in range, several of them opening fire at Tony -- just small-arms fire, intended to briefly distract him -- --from... "HIIIIGH VOOOLTAGE!" Brian Johnson's voice bellows out the line as Saffron's entire torso bends backwards, unfolding to reveal a big-ass energy cannon in its stomach. It opens up with a beam of kinetic force that's not quite as strong as Tony's Unibeam, and distributed over a wider area... but still more than adequate to knock him out of the sky. Tony has turned, attention shifting to fire strong repulsor blasts directly at the first two drones to shoot at him. As intended this does have him off his guard; when the beam hits him, he spins wildly, toppling back and briefly disappearing from Saffron's sight over the edge of the ship. There's another hopeful blast -- gone wide and nowhere near its intended drone target -- and then for a moment, silence. Just a moment. After that, a blare of music, loud and fierce: Faster than a bullet, terrifying scream; Enraged and full of anger, he is half man and half machine. Tony is rising back up to land with a clang on the deck again; as he lifts one of his gauntlets, an anti-armor missile shoots out straight for Saffron's gaping torso. Hulk howls when a red hot Cinnamon lands on his back. Even with the element of surprise Cinnamon can't quite apply enough pressure to actually choke him, but it seems to be causing him a great deal of pain, anyway. After scrabbling at the arm locked around his neck to no avail, Hulk slams his head back into the man's face. Then again, and again, each blow punctuating his words as he roars "HULK--NOT--LIKE--SURPRISE!" "--deeds... done dirt--" CLNK. Saffron attempts to right itself and shut its belly before that tiny missile lands inside of it; it moves just a moment too late, slamming shut like a jaw chomping down on the world's spiciest gobstopper. There is a moment of silence as Saffron rights itself -- staring up at Tony, fists clenched. Then, a brief musical audio cue: "It might sound crazy but it ain't no lie, baby bye bye b--" KA-BOOOOOOOM-- Pieces of Saffron's torso go every which way as its upper half twirls off the boat, arms swinging -- the lower half manages to take a few steps forward before collapsing into molten slag. Cinnamon, meanwhile, is not having any luck. Each blow from Hulk is leaving him increasingly dazed as he grunts out a constant battery of 'fucks', each one more dazed than the last. By the fifth 'fuck', his arms let loose -- falling back and tumbling. "Calling it," Sage says. "Exit strategy incoming. Get to Saffron." The two remaining drones split off; one rushes for the container with the Alchemax tech; perching like a fly. The other goes for the Hulk -- firing small arms fire meant to distract him. It buzzes around him, trying to stay just outside arms reach -- to give him something to try and swing at other than Cinnamon. The drone atop of the container starts beeping ominously, red lights flashing faster and faster -- a very clear cue to Tony as to what's about to happen. Meanwhile, Cinnamon, face bleeding -- body smoldering -- is stumbling to the edge of the ship where Saffron flew off: "Motherfucking -- who the fuck are these guys--" The words spill out of his mouth as he vaults over the rail-- Half a mile away, the tugboat transmitting Sage's signal (no longer bouncing half way across the world to do it -- she's burning all the power she can just to break through Tony's signal jamming) starts to move, engines kicking on as it veers slowly away, picking up speed... Tony had been about to take aim at the final drones, but when one comes in for a landing he swoops instead to grab it as it begins beeping. The song is continuing: Rides the metal monster, breathing smoke and fire -- and it's to this soundtrack that Tony fwooshes off after Saffron, carting the unwieldy drone along with him. Closing in with vengeance soaring high -- blares Judas Priest as Tony spins, hucks the drone towards the fleeing half-a-robot; he himself is wobbling back through the air, unsteady, to clang against the edge of the ship. Hulk spins around and barrels after Cinnamon, too furious now perhaps to worry about the drone whose bullets skip harmlessly--though probably not painlessly--off of his green skin. And he's gaining fast. "HULK SMASH" he roars as he vaults over the side of the ship, brandishing his misshapen steel strip. But then he looks down to see Tony hovering precariously in his damaged suit and at the last moment grabs the gunwale to arrest his own momentum. Almost casually, he swings his improvised weapon around to slap down the drone he'd been ignoring, then chucks it aside altogether so he can scoop up Tony instead. He swings them both back up and sets Tony carefully down on the deck. "Tony fly," he admonishes, very seriously, "not fall." "--oh, shit -- oh, shit--” Is all Cinnamon manages; the first at realizing Hulk is charging after him, and the second as Hulk disengages just in time to catch Tony -- who's just thrown the rapid-beeping drone right at Saffron. Cinnamon snatches an arm out to catch it reflexively; his eyes are as wide as saucers as he descends toward the beach with the beeping drone in hand-- --Hulk has dispatched the only other drone with a swat of metal. Saffron, having landed on the beach, is awaiting Cinnamon's descent. Reduced to an upper torso, he perches himself on one arm, the other extended toward Cinnamon's descending body. A steady pulsing noise fills his body as he charges up a last-ditch device. "Shit shit shit--" Cinnamon bellows, trying to hurl the drone he's caught away, mid-fall. The drone's beeping becomes a solid noise, and then-- pzzzt. Wisps of smoke emerge from the drone's chassis, as... nothing happens. "Rule #3 of weaponized engineering," Sage comments with dry rapport as Cinnamon lands atop of Saffron -- who's inner device has fully charged. "Blinking red lights are cheaper than explosives. Hold on to your butts, boys." Saffron detonates in a flash of blue -- a bright sphere of light that leaves... a suspiciously perfect crater where he and Cinnamon just were. Sand starts to roll in to fill the space, with a little vwwwp as air rushes in to fill the vacuum. Some sort of teleporter...? Either way, they're both gone -- and just the tugboat to the north remains. It's now moving fast, escaping the scene. The tugboat is fast -- but almost certainly, the stealth jet still circling above is faster. Under Friday's guidance it's following -- at least, just long enough for a tiny drone to drop down and attach itself to the side of the fleeing tugboat. Tony is a little wobbly as Hulk sets him back down -- is the metal hand that claps to Hulk's arm a thump of camaraderie or is it an attempt at balance? Either way: PAT. "Nice catch," is, after all that, not addressed to Hulk hauling him over the railing but to his stern admonishment. "Maybe next time you call the shots."