Logs:Outside Assistance
| Outside Assistance | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2020-10-25 "The Strategic Hazard Intervention what?" (Part of rift TP.) |
| Location
<NYC> Tony's Penthouse - Stark Tower - Midtown East | |
Accessible only by private elevator, this home takes up the top four floors of Stark Tower. Three of them are residential, a luxurious sprawl of space equipped with state of the art technology and a wealth of comforts. Private gym, terraced pool room whose glass walls can be rolled back in summer to turn it into an outdoor balcony, full bar equipped with robotic-armed bartender, extensive home entertainment system. For all its opulence, the place is decorated tastefully, careful coordination through its wood-and-stone look. The views, through many windows, terraces, balconies, might be the best part of all of it; from this perch high atop the tower, the city spreads out beneath. The lowest floor of the home is less residential, more technologically bent; packed with a host of robotics, monitors, equipment. Where Tony does the bulk of his personal work, it may well be the real heart of Stark Industries' R&D. It's a dreary afternoon, the clouds hanging low over Midtown but not raining--not quite. There is an exploded diagram of some kind of complex device projected above the glass table. Bruce is circling the table, studying the hologram. "...switching to three beam emitters pointed toward a focal point makes the device compact enough to fit in the suit." He stops where he left his tea and lifts it for a sip and reaches out to flick the diagram, assembling it into a flat, roughly triangular shape. He's dressed in a forest green button-down and brown trousers, casual today with a braided belt and brogues. "It should also help with the heat issue, but it will increase the power draw." JARVIS speaks up suddenly, its voice as soothing and as polite as ever. "Sir, this is most irregular, but it appears you have a visitor. The appointment was made with all of the correct credentials, but only just showed up in your schedule as he arrived. I'm afraid he is already on his way up." Tony is leaning against one side of the table, casual in jeans, a Black Sabbath tee layered over a white long-sleeved one, cup of coffee in one hand. He's been peering at the diagram, one hand reaching out to spin it to a different angle as Bruce speaks. Whatever he was about to offer is curtailed by Jarvis's smooth voice. "Why," though there's a greater tension in his shoulders, his voice is light, "do I even have locks. We do still have locks, yes?" "We do still have locks, Sir," JARVIS replies, tone unchanging. "He was permitted in by the security staff after consulting your schedule. I am investigating the electronic security breach." The elevator door slides noiselessly open to admit a balding, middle-aged white man of average build, dressed in a neat but unremarkable black suit, carrying a black suitcase. He looks so bland and unassuming and self-assured in that bored everyday sort of way that for a moment it's possible to imagine he is only a Stark employee who lost his way and ended up in Tony's private elevator somehow. "Good afternoon, Mister Stark," he says, peering around him as he enters. "Ah, and Mister Banner, I'm glad to see you're already here, too. I'm Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate." He pauses half a beat. "I apologize for intruding on your day, but we need to talk. Urgently." Bruce seems far more alarmed than Tony at the news of the impending unexpected visitor. "Maybe you should not be here? What if he's an assassin?" He looks rather like he's contemplating escape himself when the elevator discharges Coulson. His brows knit tight behind his thick-framed glasses. "The Strategic Hazard Intervention what?" "Just jab you hard and hope for the best." Tony straightens, brows lifting as the elevator opens. His eyes flick to Bruce, but then back to Coulson. "Huh. Is it about getting a new acronym? One you got's -- little tortured." "Call us S.H.I.E.L.D., " Coulson replies with a tight, nearly humorless smile. "We're an intelligence agency under the U.N. World Security Council. We specialize in existential threats to humanity." He produces an ID card from the inner pocket of his jacket once he's close enough to display it. "We have encountered a potential threat that we feel warrants outside scientific and technical expertise. You two are on our short list of potential consultants." Bruce eyes Tony sidelong. "That sounds--extremely far-fetched, Agent...Coulson, you said?" He takes a step closer and squints at the ID card. "You could have whipped this up with a printer and a laminator, though I guess that begs the question why you would bother with such an outlandish lie when you have the technical expertise to hack Stark Industries." Tony isn't looking at Coulson or his ID card. Not at Bruce, either. He's sipping at his coffee again, looking down at the glass table in front of him; his fingers are tapping rapidly at its surface, though at what it's initially hard to tell with that part of the interface flat down on the table. His brows hike, and when he taps at the display to float it, projected now above the table, it is at first difficult to make sense of the list of codes and coordinates that spring up. He taps at the table again, and this time what comes up is a camera's view -- the rooftop of an apartment building, Tompkins Square Park visible in the background. A tap, a different camera; the inside of a police station with a wealth of complicated equipment stationed around a holding cell. Another tap -- "-- can't whip that up with a printer and laminator." Like the others, one corner of the current feed reads 'LIVE', as well as, 'AGENT: HAWKEYE'. A caption stream across the bottom has just printed Tony's words. The video itself is a clear view of the room through the large windows. Tony (as well as his smaller copy on the video) is just wandering to the window, peering out of it thoughtfully. Coulson tucks his ID away and watches Tony at work with a sort of strained patience. At least, until the projection comes to life. He seems to know what they are looking at before the surveillance videos get brought to the foreground, and lifts one hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Agent Hawkeye is just here to ensure my safety in the unlikely event I'm assaulted," he explains calmly. "We know about your exosuit, Mister Stark, and..." His eyes track to Bruce, then back to the video quickly. "But I assure you we're not here in connection with your activities in those areas. We just thought it prudent to take some precations." He sets his suitcase on the edge of the table and opens it, extracting a tablet -- nothing mass-marketed or commercially available, but a sleek clear slate with a surface-level holographic display. "The planet needs your minds, and from what our scientists tell me, it's an unprecedented discovery." He offers the tablet out to Tony. "What do you say, gentlemen?" Bruce leans forward, bracing the heels of his hands on the edge of the table, and watches the surveillance videos in succession. "That's..." He resettles his glasses to the exact same position they were in before, and glances nervously out the window as Tony approaches it, though his gaze returns rapidly to the live video of the conversation. "Well, this is...highly disturbing, Agent Coulson. What kind of a discovery could force an organization with resources like this--" He gestures sharply at the projection. "--to seek outside assistance?" Tony swipes away from the current image, back to another -- exterior shot of a police station, this time, two unobtrusively-dressed figures currently exiting it. His brows hike up when Coulson holds the tablet out to him. He doesn't take it, but a bit more tapping brings its display up, projected adjacent to the current one. The header at the top reads "Anomaly 278: Dimensional Rift". He glances from the projection to Bruce. Back to the display. "Here I thought 2020 couldn't still surprise me." | |
