ArchivedLogs:Bro-Jobs
| Bro-Jobs | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2013-06-18 Immediately before the press conference. |
| Location
<NYC> Stark Tower - Midtown East | |
A gleaming beacon of modern architecture shining bright amidst the industry of Midtown, Stark Tower serves as headquarters to one of the largest tech corporations in the world. The offices and boardrooms of Stark Industries and any number of satellite companies, subsidiaries, and nonprofits are homed here. To the public what draws most visitors is not the business but the science -- the first two floors of the building hold an extensive museum dedicated to technological innovation. As well, guided tours three days a week are open to the public, to be shown through both the museum and, more notably, through (select parts of) the dozen floors dedicated solely to R&D.The building itself is as eye-catching inside as outside. The soaring lobby atrium extends upwards, bright and glass-walled with perpetually bustling balconies ringing each floor. All visitors must pass through the lobby security checkpoints to be signed in. The technology integrated into the building, from the interactive holographic displays that help guide visitors to their destination to the quiet AI that remembers visitors' preferences upon repeat visits to the basement arc reactor that powers the entire building, are quiet reminders of the company's dedication to innovation. Somewhere in a nearby room, there are no doubt reporters gathering for the upcoming press conference. It's early yet but they're already starting, and that room is no doubt full of buzz and noise and cameras. This room is not. This one is quiet. An cool comfortable office space, large leather chairs and a wide desk, a whiteboard dominating one wall and bookshelves the other. There's a sweeping view of the city out its back windows but Tony is paying this no attention. He's seated on a black leather couch, feet propped up on the central table. In front of him there is a large holographic projection; the interface here probably enough to make most techies drool. With his sophisticated state-of-the-art computer, he is -- swiping a FOLDER off of what would be a desktop if this were a traditional screen. Crumpling it. Throwing it into the TRASH. And rinse, and repeat. Not, mind, for any actual file-management purposes. Just because holographic OFFICE BASKETBALL. There's another room off this one where Jax is no doubt currently FRETTING and perhaps! Perhaps that is where Sebastian is meant to be staying. AND YET. The door is creeping open, one veeeeeeery wide pair of solidblack eyes peeking through the crack. PEEK. Peek? His gills are fluttering with excitement. Maybe he should be fretting, /too/, but whatever this press conference will bring later, right NOW it is bringing: TonyStark. Peek!
"Nope." Crumple. Throw. Crumple. Tony doesn't look up at the sudden teenage eyes on him. He's very busy with this game, alright? Crumple. Throw. "It's /an/ office. You in or out?" He tosses the next crumpled folder /at/ the boys' door. For all the good that this does; the little holo-image soars towards them and then -- reroutes itself into the basket anyway. OK, so maybe his basketball skills are getting /kind/ of a cheating boost here. Only then does he look up, eyebrows raising when his gaze skims from Sebastian to Peter. "I'm sorry I can't place that is that some sort of -- beetle? You two color-coordinate well, at least. It's a good image." Sebastian's eyes are still wide as he creeps /in/ to the room, holding the door open for Peter behind him. "More like a spider," he says, fiddling nervously with the strap of his backpack. And then, a little brighter: "He even makes webs. This is my friend Peter. Peter, this is TonyStark." Like that part needed introducing. But he's TOTALLY introducing them. Peter's response to suddenly realizing Tony Stark is present is a bit more -- /dramatic/ than Sebastian's; there is a brief widening of eyes, and -- a tiny, near-supersonic 'eeee' sound that only Sebastian can probably hear. Peter is /tense/ against Sebastian, kind-of-following him only because -- if he wasn't, he'd probably have no shoulder to /cling/ to. "...himyname'sPeter," is all he manages to get out. In case. Sebastian's introduction didn't stick. Actually Peter might not have heard it. "I've seen you," Tony informs Peter of this, a lazy swipe of his hand collapsing his entire display into nothingness. "Seen your work. Shame we can't use it today. You sure /you/ don't want a mic out there?" He frowns at Peter for a moment, and immediately dismisses this idea with a: "I can only imagine what the lights would do to your -- is that /chitin/? Do they make kids with chitin now?" "Not -- /all/ kids. He's kind of special. Um -- you've seen his --" Sebastian glances between Peter and Tony, puzzled. Wide-eyed still. "Did you give him webshooters?" he whispers to Peter. "-- can you web reporters?" "My -- work?" Peter asks, his voice still oh-so tiny, his eyes oh-so wide; he's still not gotten over -- ohmy/God/ TonyStark. "I -- gleam," he adds, very /apologetically/, like this was pretty much the most terrible faux pas he could commit. And then to Sebastian, half-whispering -- almost stage-whispering: "N--no, I didn't -- I mean. I don't think," Peter adds, "I should web /reporters/." "In the cages. Admit I wouldn't have pegged you two for friends, though but." Tony swings his feet down off the table where they've been resting. "Web. You actually --" His eyes shift down to somewhere around Peter's /ass/ in some mild bemusement. "If you get on stage," he tells Peter, "don't do any of that, I don't think it'd get past the censors." "-- oh." Sebastian says this very quietly, his gills flaring at the sides of his neck. "Um." And for a moment he is silent, claws digging into the strap of the backpack at his back, a stiff tension to his shoulders. It takes a moment before he moves again, reaching for one of Peter's hands. Or, wrists, really, fingers curling against his thwippything. "Nonono, no, it's not -- like that, actually. It's not part of his -- he made the webs. Made himself things to shoot webs. Because he's kind of brilliant when it comes to making things." Peter tenses too -- at the mention of cages -- but, maybe surprisingly? -- maybe not! He does not /freak out/. He turns a bit violet, both at Tony Stark's mention of censors, and Sebastian's mention of brilliance; his hand reaches up to /squeeze/ at Sebastian's wrist when he touches the thwippy things -- quickly adding: "--someone else built them, um, /before/ me. I -- came up with the idea but I had a lot of help," he adds, nervously tittering, before -- THWP. A pen on Tony's desk suddenly is /smacked/ out of the cup by a long, gleaming silver-grey cord -- before it can clatter to the floor, it's /yanked/ with a twist of Peter's /hand -- releasing Sebastian's wrist -- to catch it with a practiced flick. And, suddenly flushing a deeper indigo, eyes widening: "OhumI'msorryIshouldhave--uh, asked before." He's now fumbling forward, almost tripping over himself to RETURN THE PEN. "Woah, you just -- that was. A little premature," Tony's eyes have shot open wide at the sudden spurt of silver, though past this and a slight straightening of his posture he does not look much put /off/ by Peter's sudden webbing. He leans forward when Peter returns the pen although it's not the /pen/ he's reaching towards -- his fingers gesture towards the cord, and the black thwipper circling Peter's wrist; he's eying it with a sudden uptick of interest. "That doesn't look like silk, what are you doing there?" "It's not silk exactly, sir, it's -- a sort of bioadhesive. Glue. Really strong. You can use them to --" Sebastian mimes a THWIP flick of his wrist, "-- swing around. Or catch things. Or tie people up /um/ not that we'd ever be --" His cheeks flush darker. "I've been working on training my robot to use them." "Sebastian," Peter adds, a bit of that apprehensive nervousness sliding away when it comes to talking about /other/ people's accomplishments, "built a /robot/. Spider. He's giving it little, um, thwippy things too," Peter continues, still oscillating between violet and indigo as Stark gestures toward the cord and thwipper. "...yeah it's, /crazy/ strong. It dissolves into a gas after about an hour, too. It -- you can make cocoons, or--" Peter pauses, glancing back to Sebastian, finally deciding on a deep shade of indigo. "-- Or tie people up," Tony finishes, and this time be beckons. At the thwipper. Like 'gimme'. "So what, you manage to compress it down into here -- tell me you don't actually make cocoons. Wait, was that insensitive --" He's /reflexively/ looking around for Pepper and then back to Peter, "-- you don't sleep in cocoons, do you?" The mention of robot draws his attention to Sebastian. "Spider-kid. Spider-bot." And Sebastian, who he eyes with a faint narrowing of eyes. "One of these things is not like the other. Your robot shoots this gunk too?" "He can cocoon /other/ people," Sebastian explains, a little brighter, a little more eager. "Like a less-lethal weapon that's /actually/ less-lethal. And Jerusalem isn't -- really great with them /yet/." Yet is clearly crucially important! Sebastian is slinging his backpack down around to his front, taking out from it a remote first -- the controller looks more akin to a tablet than to what you would imagine for a remote-control car -- and then a large silvery robot-spider with mismatched eyes, one round and red and one rectangular and green. He sets the spider down, switching on the remote. A moment later half its screen lights up, too, with an image of the base of Tony's couch, still until the spider begins moving and its camera starts moving with it. "-- I made him to watch out for my little brother," he admits kind of bashfully, his cheeks flushing. "Because he spies. And I guess soon fights back, too." Peter doesn't /seem/ to be spazzing out around Tony anymore; though, part of him looks like he really wants to. When Stark makes the 'gimme' motion, Peter's already unstrapping the webshooter -- the parts are custom-made, fresh from a 3D printer; it consists of an LCD screen (which tells you the time and a small percent gauge for how much glue remains), a cartridge slot for a brass canister (that contains the glue), the nozzle -- and the firing device (two insulated wires that end in two contact points with adhesive on the back; the adhesive's actually pretty worn thin -- Peter's been making it stick by using his WALL-CLINGING). A double tap on either of the contacts will produce a variety of effects, dependent on combination (left double-tap for wire, right double-tap for splat, both double-tap -- and hold -- for cocoon). There's also -- a USB port? On the back-end. As Sebastian produces Jerusalem, Peter hops back, currently minus one webshooter; he rubs at the part of his wrist where it once was worn, looking -- agitated. Like just leaving it off for a few seconds makes him nervous. "Jerusalem's been through a l--" Peter stops, mid-sentence, just kind of staring at Sebastian. As if -- something's just dawned on him. "...Sebastian we are showing," he whispers, /trying/ (and maybe failing) to not be loud, "Tony Stark all our awesome stuff. Sebastian what is going on how did this happen." /NOW/ Peter looks like he might be about to spaz. Tony is, at first, quiet. He's turning the webshooter over in his hands, scrutinizing its various parts. Poking here. Prodding there. "And you use these to cocoon people. Great. You kids in some, is there some junior superhero school out there? Teach you to be Batman /and/ Lucius Fox at on--" THWP. His tapping earns him a splat of glue spooged out onto his shoe. He stares at it for a moment before strapping the shooter to his wrist instead. "Great. That's not usually a problem I have." "Oh! Oh, gosh, don't --" Too late, THWP. "... did he just call us Batman /and/ Lucius Fox?" Bastian whispers back to Peter. Jerusalem is climbing his way up the side of the couch -- of his own volition apparently now, at least Bastian isn't touching the controls though he does occasionally glance to the screen. "-- it comes off with vinegar," he volunteers, "and we don't. Go to superhero school I don't /think/ Peter went to superhero school before this year anyway and I certainly didn't -- go. To. Any school." There is a knock on the door, and Iolaus sticks his head into the room. Glancing around, he follows in fully a few moments later, smiling at the room's occupants and adjusting his tie. It is a dark blue with small silver stripes, matching his black shirt and navy suit. "How's the preparation going?" he asks, amusement in his voice. Peter /stiffens/ a bit -- both at the mention of SUPERHERO SCHOOL and the sudden THWP that hits Tony Stark's shoe. "Vinegar," he breathlessly repeats what Sebastian said, before adding -- maybe a little /too/ quickly: "No there is no superhero school I mean that'd be -- /crazy/." The indigo has slipped back to violet, at least; Peter's head swivels to the sound of that door knocking -- when he sees Iolaus, Peter's eyebrows dart up, and: "Ohhi! Um--" He glances back at Stark, shuffle-shuffling behind Sebastian. "...everything's, um. We're. Hanging out. With, um. Mr. Stark." An arm darts around Sebastian's shoulder, then; Peter's tone sounds /just/ a smidge giddy. "Yes," Peter whispers to Sebastian, before: "Dibs on Batman." "Vinegar. We have any vinegar?" Tony is apparently asking this to the air, although before long the air /answers/ him, in a smooth masculine voice that has a hint of British accent to it: "I can have some brought up for you, sir." Tony is leaning down, pressing a finger curiously at the goop on his shoe. "Yeah. Well. I'm about to give a press conference about police running a fighting ring with a man who can shoot lasers from his eyes -- eye," he corrects, "I don't have any idea where crazy ideas might have come from. It's -- it's great," he answers Iolaus, "they were just filling me in on their extensive studies at superhero academy." "We don't /go/ to superhero academy," Sebastian insists emphatically, "it's just normal high school." His brow furrows. He taps at the remote, now; Jerusalem turns to THWIP his own web out to the table. And then very carefully inch a leg out onto it. He can't actually TIGHTROPE WALK the web but he does seem to be testing it out like he is CONSIDERING doing so. For all that a robot spider can think. "... at least I think it's normal school, I don't really have. A comparison, I never went to any other school." To Peter he asides: "Of /course/ you're Batman I am /not/ that badass." He kind of /squeaks/ when Iolaus enters, though, eyes widening -- a little /guiltily/: "/Um/ yes I mean no I mean are /you/ prepa -- do you need help sir?" He looks like OH MAN does he hope Iolaus does not need help right now. Iolaus gives Sebastian a bemused look, glancing back to Tony. His mouth opens and then shuts, quickly, and he eyes Sebastian once. "Nope, I'm all right." He pulls out a pair of white notes from his pocket and waves them in the air once, before pocketing it. "I'll probably do the usual thing I do. Read a bit of the speech I'm supposed to write, and then go off notes and make the marketing team cry." The doctor's smile is wide as he winks at Sebastian and gives Tony a nod. "How about you? Have your notes all set, or are you just going to wing it?" "O-oh," Peter says, a little weakly, at the sound of another voice in the room -- head swiveling this way and that. What? Who is -- Oh. At the mention of EYE LASER, Peter turns violet; at the /second/ mention of superhero school, he turns /indigo/. But he's savvy enough at this point to let Sebastian explain for him (besides, Peter is probably the only Xavier student who /does/ think he goes to superhero school). He gives Sebastian a slight elbow nudge when he mentions not being as /badass/ as Batman, but. He's not going to argue hard, because. He's getting to be Batman. "Notes?" Tony sounds a little blank on this point. Or maybe just distracted, watching Jerusalem. "-- /No/ other school?" His attention returns to the webshooter at his wrist; this time his THWIP is /directed/. Towards the wall, admittedly, but at least not all over himself. "Regular high school. Seems like kind of a waste. What are you doing with your summer?" Jerusalem is poking at the sticky wire. Eventually giving up on walking it to curl both his front legs /around/ it instead; when he drops the rest of his metal body off the couch the sticky spiderwebbing holds him up just fine. It takes a little bit longer for him to disentangle his first leg from adhesive and slowly start monkeybarring his way across. Though he freezes halfway over as Sebastian looks up. "Um --" He darts a look to Peter. Then to Iolaus. Then to Peter. Then to Tony. "-- Working," is a very /small/ answer. "Notes. I should have guessed," Iolaus says, bemusedly, pulling his own out once more to peer down at them carefully. He glances up at Sebastian when the teenager gets quiet all of a sudden, and he raises an eyebrow, head tilting slightly to one side. Puzzlement flashes briefly on his face before he shakes his head, once, and looks back down at his cards. "Oh be careful not to -- double-tap them both," Peter mentions, suddenly, "that'll start up the cocoon it's, kind of hard not to /stick/ y--" He suddenly stops himself, as if realizing. He is explaining his device to TONY STARK. Apparently, he thinks that Tony Stark can automatically understand any machine via osmosis. "--um. Oh," at the question, Peter just -- shrugs. "School." Also tiny. Of /course/ when this is mentioned Tony feels the need to immediately try it -- taptaptaptap. GLOOP. Straight out towards the boys. "-- Uh, right, that vinegar --" "Is just arriving, sir," his disembodied voice tells him politely. "You know, we don't /usually/ offer internships as young as high school," Tony is saying as he gets up to intercept the door. Where someone is delivering him a bottle of vinegar with a look that suggests they kind of /want/ to be perplexed at all the goop inside the room, the sharkboy, the chitin-covered teen, but have been working here too long to be perplexed at /much/. "But if you're /not/ studying to be Batman -- well, we could help you along there." Sebastian's eyes are growing impossibly wider. 'Internships,' is mouthed rather than said aloud, because his gills have started fluttering rapidly. His sudden flare of excitement is enough that even sudden gooping does not dampen it; in a way it might even /help/, splatting against his side, the sudden pressure on his gills there reminding him to /breathe/. But then he looks to Iolaus and back down to his shoes. "Oh, I've -- already got a -- I mean, I don't think I'd make a good. Um. I've barely even /had/ school, I never -- /went/ before a couple years ago and now. I." He hangs his head almost guiltily. "-- haveajobalready," sounds like it has been very reluctantly dredged up from a bleak dejected place inside him. "That's right." Iolaus says, glancing at Sebastian for a moment before he fixes his eyes on Tony. "He works for me, already. If you want him, you're going to have to do better than an internship." He says, eyes twinkling. "Make him a job offer instead, beat what I'm paying him in aggregate, and I'll take a ten-percent finders fee and walk away happy." The doctor says, lightly, glancing at Sebastian. Peter's just kind of -- staring. Blankly, at Stark. Like he just told him that Peter's parents were /actually/ Batman and Superman. "...wh." He snaps his head back at Sebastian, slightly wild-eyed; he then /slings/ his eyes back to Stark, reaching out -- to grab Sebastian's shoulder. SHAKE, SHAKE. Just a little. "...Youcanwork/two/jobs," Peter /squeaks/ out at Sebastian, eyes still locked on Stark. Wide as saucers. He scarcely even hears Iolaus; something something FINDER'S FEE something something. "Job. Done. How do you feel about R&D." He's asking this to both the teenagers in turn, as he carries the vinegar over to -- hand it to Peter. Here. YOU take care of it. "Did -- did you find this?" He looks at Iolaus now, waving his webshooter-armed hand towards the teenagers and Jerusalem all. "I seem to recall he found /me/. Tell you what, I'll -- cut your clinic the check I'm about to promise you and you can walk away happy." He claps Iolaus on the shoulder here. "-- Great, I think. We're up." With this he is frowning at the gloop still on his shoe. Sebastian's eyes are wide to match Peter's. Just, huge black pools dominating his face. "Ohmygoshohmygosh," he is whispering to Peter. This -- might be /all/ he manages to say. "Done and done," Iolaus says, brightly. "I'll have my HR department contact your HR department to get all the numbers worked out and the contract looked over by Legal." Iolaus grins, once, at Sebastian. "Alright. Let's go make the front page," he grins, clapping TonyStark on the shoulder with one hand and then heading for the door. Oh wait, yes. Peter got -- webbed. With Sebastian. Didn't they. Neither of them probably /noticed/ the cocoon like swell of semi-transparent paste that just swept over them both like kind of a wave, sticking -- maybe a bit! -- to their shoes and legs. Luckily, Peter has -- vinegar! He's kind of staring at Stark, though, eyes wide, like. 'What am I supposed to do with this' thing. As Iolaus and TonyStark move to leave the room, Peter manages to make a tiny squeak at Sebastian, still staring ahead: "What just happened?" | |
