2012-07-25 A Call to Arms

Rhodey perks his head up when his S-Phone trills. It's just loud enough to cut through the chirring, whirring, and scraping of metal being cut, automated welders sparking, and drill presses punching holes in high-tech materials. He pauses and lowers the enormous heat-seeking missle that's balanced on his shoulder. "PATTON. Display message. All screens." In response to his command, several flat-panel displays spread around the workshop light up, each one showing the same image. An email. "PATTON, compose reply. Wait. Belay that. I'll do it myself." Rhodey makes for his desk and scoops up his phone. A few taps and drags later, he stuffs the slim device into a slot in his cybernetic forearm. "Prep my armor. It's time to mount up." "You can't fight, soldier! You're a puke! A worm! A half-man!" Despite his protests, PATTON does as he's ordered. Rhodey shrugs impassively. "I might only be half a man, but I'm still the War Machine. Hurry up, old man." Around the workshop, the flatscreens have shifted to an image of Rhodey's reply to Tony's coded message. To: IAmIronMan@StarkMail.com From: RockyRhodes@StarkMail.com Subject: I'm Something In Between Body: Hold the line. I'm en route.