2012-07-20 Assembling

J.A.R.V.I.S. Radio: http://youtu.be/wiwqK5rqR1I

Deep within the depths of Stark Mansion, whilst J.A.R.V.I.S. Radio blares out some of the latest pop hits, Tony Stark is standing in the middle of a technological war zone. Holoscreens are all over the place. Images of HYDRA facilities and dossiers of top HYDRA agents are all to one side. To the other side are schematics for various Iron Man Armors and a host of other technological options. If any of this stuff were actually real, Tony would be trapped in the middle.

As it is, though, Stark is standing right in the heart of all this information, spinning from one thing to the other on his heels. Swiping through this and hurling that at trash cans. It is, really, the best course of action it would seem. Pizza boxes are piled up on the floor near the door, but that's about the end of the mess. Everything else is exactly where Tony wants it.

He bops a little bit and turns his attention to the huge holomodel of what can only be HYDRA Island. At random intervals smaller screens will pop up showing real time surveillance footage of what's going on inside. HYDRA Agents patrolling. HYDRA Agents training. HYDRA Agents playing Go Fish. Anything that is not relevant gets flicked away by the quick fingers of Tony Stark. HYDRA's Female Dorms never get flicked away. Go figure.

Tony leans over the model with a clipboard and makes some notes. While his body seems to be moving to the music, his eyes are about as focused as they've ever been. He's literally so engrossed in his planning and tactical analysis that it's really hard for him to think of anything else. Satisfied, he tosses the clipboard on his desk and turns to jog up the steps to the Wall of Armor.

Dummy is working on the Iron Man armor, according to the holomodel visual that Tony's got hanging above the suits. It looks like the Iron Man suit is getting a complete overhaul. Or, at the very least, some new toys. Tony grins and knocks on Dummy's arm, before moving on to pull his S-Phone out of his pocket and leans back against the wall. Fingers dance across the phone so fast and then he dropping it on the desk to grab a screwdriver and slide across the floor on his stool to help with the suit modifications.

On his phone, though, the message is still sending, even as the backlit screen fades away...

To: RockyRhodes@StarkMail.com From: IAmIronMan@StarkMail.com Subject: Are You A Man Or Are You A Machine?