The Modern Prometheus

January 08, 2018:

Clint brings his bow in to be repaired by its original builder. For some reason, Mary Shelley comes up.

Stark Tower


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Phil Coulson, Melinda May. Natasha Romanov, Kate Bishop


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Its always fun and exciting when going to Stark Tower.

…at least thats the rumor around SHIELD. You really don't know what to expect most times. This time when the imposing glass doors of the foyer hiss open(they totally sound like Star Trek doors, Stark made sure) they reveal!!!

Not all that much different than most billion dollar companies.

I mean its a nice foyer, the security guards on duty are polite. The people, just getting off work for the most part, don't seem in any perticular state of emergency. Nope. Just one more day at the office is what it seems.

Those with the proper clearances(or the ability to fake such clearences) are shown to a set of chromed elevators in the back corner of the lobby. These doors would open to reveal…

A drone.

A little round guy, a pair of tiny repulsor jets keeping it aloft. The single optic in the center of said drone blinks a few times.

And there is a tiny little post-it slapped on his side that says in hand written and spidery scrawl. 'I'm with stupid —->'

Aparently the little guy did something bad?


It's not Clint Barton's first foray to Stark Tower, but it's the first time he's come for something quasi-personal. The SHIELD agent has Level 7 clearance, which should be enough on its own to get him through to those elevators. Depending, of course, on how the keeper of the castle feels about particular SHIELD agents. He's carrying a black hard-sided case about four feet long that looks scuffed and well-used. He's wearing denim, blundtstone (shut up, they're good for New York's winter) and a long peacoat in off-gray with a purple scarf.
He leans over and looks at the drone, then reaches out to tap-tap it if the thing will let him. "Hey, Roomba. Your boss around? Can you understand me?" he looks up and squints. "I just kind of assume I can talk to everything in this tower, but I may just be sounding like a crazy person. If anyone asks, I've got a bluetooth in, okay?"


Apparently the keeper of the castle seems pretty ok about this SHIELD agent.

The little drone borbles at Clint for a moment before it does several barrel rolls. As if to say 'HE SURE CAN' and then hovers down towards the keys to the elevator.

A tiny little manipulator arm comes out to point at one of the buttons near the top. Well. It only becomes a button after its pointed out, it seemed to be just part of the panel before then.

There is a crackle over the speakers and a familiar and very english voice cracles on.

"Ah! Mister Barton!" JARVIS is polite as ever. "I see you've met Ace."

The drone does another barrel roll.

"Mister Stark is in the aerospace lab right now, he says to come on up." A pause. "He would tell you himself but he's trying to turn a turbine off and thinks it would be very difficult to understand over that."

A beatpause.

"And yes, Mister Barton. I will remember about the bluetooth."


"Off to see the wizard," murmurs Clint under his breath as everything starts reacting to him. He shifts the case in his arms. "Yeah, uh…JEEVES is it?" that would make too much sense. He raises his voice a bit more than is necessary. "So do I tell the little…barrel roll machine to go to that lab or something?" He's not terrible at technology, but he prefers his gadgets to be straightforward. So everything in Stark Tower confounds him just a little bit.


"JARVIS, sir. Just Another Rather Very Intelligent System. Would be my full desigination." There is a beatpause. "Mister Stark was feeling puckish that day I believe." The AI seems to have a sense of humor at that. "And yes, Ace can take you there. I'll have him punch up the proper lab."

Ace does one more barrel roll(someone let him play a lot of Star Fox earlier) and bobs up and down and presses said button.

The elevator moves with an almost unnatural smoothness. No jerking starts here. Just gliding motion up and up and up into the levels of the building to stop at the aerospace lab.

…which is basicly just a open lab which at the moment seems to have a full size plane dominating the center of it.

Sleeker than the Quinjets, the advanced version looks made for combat. Or style. Possibily combat with style.

Out of one of the engine compartments seems to be sticking a pair of…well…legs. That are kicking. As Tony Stark reaches for something inside the guts of the fighter craft.

JARVIS lets out an audible sigh.

"Sir? You have company."


Clint exits the elevator and blinks at the sight of the plane. He shouldn't be surprised, what with 'aerospace lab' and all. He walks forward, towards those flailing legs. "Nice bird." The Hawk, of course, can fly. Not…like, superhero-style, but pilot. "You don't make anything boxy, huh? Thanks, uh, JARVIS," he tosses a weak salute at thin air in acknowledgment of the AI's assistance.


"Boxy annoys me," Comes the echoing voice from inside the plane's innerds before Tony Stark wriggles his way out and drops to the floor. Blue jeans, t-shirt. The glow of the ARC reactor in his chest comes though that thin black fabric easily as he turns towards the SHIELD agent.

Ace borbles again and bobs up and down a few times.

"Yeah yeah, you're off punishment detail just don't knock anything over! Go play your game or something!"

The little drone zooms out of the elevator and off out the door of the lab as Tony smirks. Grabbing a rag from a nearby table he wipes his hands before grinning easily at the agent.

"So Hawkeye!" A pause. "Oldhawkeye? Oldeye? Firsteye? Oneeye? No that might get Thor confused and you don't want that…what brings you to my totally awesome and not humble at all abode?"


"SHIELD Hawkeye?" Clint clarifies. It's a confusing situation, but eh. "Sometimes she goes by Hawkeye II but not when she wants to get my goat. Which is most of the time." He doesn't seem bothered by the codename clash. He hefts his case and looks for a place to set it down. "Having a little problem with my rig that the SHIELD techs can't seem to fix. Thought you might be able to help seeing as you built the damned thing."


"Too long, I'll just go with the old standard Legolas." Tony desides with a smirk that lasts for a moment. "Ah yeah, you super agent type people are hard on your gear or so I've heard." The inventor replies as he stolls over to a long worktable and just casually shoves what might be several million worth of supertech over to the side. "I mean its not like I can include instructions every time I send stuff out." A pause. "I mean I guess I could but that would be really hard."


Rusalka arrives from West Side.


"And really boring, right?" Clint hefts the case up onto the table. "And my locks aren't flowing enough for that particular moniker." He clicks open the case and spins it around to reveal his programmable, retractable bow. He pops it out with practiced ease and flicks it to extend it to its full length. He's so comfortable with it that it acts as an extension of his body.
"I was on a mission and some asshole sent out an EMP. The shielding failed and the OS crashed. The SHIELD techs tried to reinitialize it, but it's not communicating properly with my quiver." Which he's actually wearing under his jacket. He shrugs off his coat and swings the quiver around. It's sans arrows. "So what's the news, doctor? Tell it to me straight. Will she…" he wipes away a fake tear, "…will she make it?"


"We can get you a wig," Tony offers with a smirk before he looks towards the bow and arrow systems. A slight front. "Huh, something must have cracked the shielding. I'll reinforce it while you're here then." The man replies as he glances down at the weapon.

"Lets see what we got, JARVIS?"

Blue-white light bathes the weapon and quiver for a moment as its scanned. Then a blown up wire-frame hologram of the internals appears hovering in the air over the case and weapon.

There are black and red marks though parts of it and the inventor nods to himself a time or two before looking back twoards the agent.

"I'm sorry Clint, we're gonna have to operate."


Clint's not a stupid man, but he's no engineer. He squints at the holographic internals. He can make out some of it just from understanding bow mechanics, but most of it's Greek to him. "Oh yeah, uh, I may have also landed on it at one point. But it's taken worse than that in the past and the problems didn't start til after the EMP."
In reaction to the note about operating, he places the back of his hand against his forehead in a dramatic fashion and pretends to swoon.


"Stay strong!" Tony claps the archer on the shoulder. "Have faith and she'll survive!"

A beatpause then.

"Alright done now. Seriously though someone really hated you to hit you with a strong enough EMP to scramble this. I'll throw in some redundat systems to see if I can stop that in the future. I mean I can't stop people like /GLITCH/."

This is shouted into a nearby lab.

"From ruining my things."

"Uh the young miss isn't in right now, sir."

Stark just shakes his head before he goes back to looking at things. "Alright JARVIS start recompiling the software for a quick dump, update the firmware and I'll take care of the actual pieces."

A smirk then over his shoulder at Clint as he starts to take off the casing of the systems. "So who hates SHIELD enough this time?"


Clint clears his throat, then mutters, "Classified," in his best stuffy agent voice. "But really, take your pick. Insurgents. HYDRA. The Russians are still a thing, somehow." He shrugs. "And uh, I think it was more…me than SHIELD? This particular cell, I've had run-ins with before. I might've uh…attached a magnetic explosive arrow to the undercarriage of their tank and blew it a new back door. When they'd juuuust gotten the damned thing up and running."


"If I really felt like it I guess I could hack some systems, but…" A pause. "…Russians? Man they must /really/ not like you." A beatpause. "Oh. Well thats why. Still being a troll." He pops the case of the quiver, pulling a tool out of the haphazard looking pile of brick-a-brack without looking. So either he's lucky or there actually is some kind of order. "I'm pretty sure all professional spies are just giant trolls. IN that classic internet way."


"Poke and counter poke. Information, misinformation?" Clint inhales through his nose and leans on the workbench. "You're not wrong." He's always had a good sense of humour about spywork - and a realistic view of what he does. It's not always heroic, but it needs to be done. "That, and one great big violent, international game of capture the flag."


"That is the best way I've heard it boiled down too. Well that and a deadly game of whack-a-mole." Stark replies with a smirk as he tweaks something inside the quiver and the machine grinds to life. Selectors spinning freely as the breaks are slowly repaired. "Whack-a-mole where sometimes you're the hammer and sometimes you're the mole right?" He adds as he flips a few more pieces together. Replacing connections and repairing the system as easily as someone might fold a paper airplane.


"Thaaat's my girl," says Clint in a pleased manner as the rig makes a familiar whirring sound. He's definitely not the only one who has a special relationship with his gear. From the bit of tension that releases on his face, he was clearly worried that it was a lost cause. He could break in a new bow - he's done it many times before - but he never relishes the opportunity. Even when it's an upgrade. Muscle memory takes time to re-train so reaction time is slowed juuuust a bit during adaptation. And in his line of work, he needs every millisecond of speed.
"Sometimes you're the hammer, sometimes you're the nail," he agrees. "What about you? Can't have been much fun here post-Expo-splosion."


"I'll throw some upgrades on this thing that shouldn't change weight or balance," Stark adds as he starts pulling parts from a pile. They seem to be a random assortment of things but it always seems like he knows exactly what they are doing. Breaking down parts from one piece to modify another to fix whats broken in the device. "Eh, its not bad. I got Obi trying to convince me that the whole registration thing is a good thing. And Emma trying to do the opposite. But no ones tried to kill me this week so thats something."


"Registration," Clint balloons up his cheeks. "Y'know, not many times in my life I've been grateful to be just a man. Especially when these young agents come up with superpowers and run laps around me." Which is not exactly true. One of the remarkable things about him is how he manages to hold his own against people who do have a natural advantage. "I try and stay out of politics, myself. But for you, I don't imagine that's an option." He leans over to peer into the guts, as if he's dubious the upgrades won't actually affect the balance. But he'll trust him.


"I'm just a human, but they want me to sign the thing too." A wave of his hand towards the lab around them. "Of course I don't quite count anymore. Since I won't give away my super secret tech. Which is why I don't give out instructions. Tried that once, now I have a Fat Iron Man suit trying to kill me on occasion." A shrug. "Its a living." Again a twist as more systems seem to light up green. "…and no though I suppose I can't. Wish I could, would be so much easier than anything else. And I'm a lazy man at heart."

Obiouvsly from all the gear that he's built just today…well thats not entirely true.

"Here," Stark tosses a pair of tiny gear systems towards the archer. "Whats the weight comparison on those two. Need to know how much I can tweak before you go complain to Phil about me breaking your toys."


Clint catches the gear systems neatly from the air. He holds them both up and balances them. He flicks them around consideringly, then tosses one back towards Tony. "That one's heavier." And if he weighs them, he'll find the archer is right, even if the difference is tiny. "But shave the equivalent off the housing and it'll be juust fine."
He glances around the lab, up at the undercarriage of the aircraft, then back to Tony. "Must be a whole lotta no fun to see something of your own creation try to smack you down. Must be what Darth Vader felt like." A beat, then, "Sorry, I couldn't think of an example where it was the hero whose creation came back to bite them in the ass. Frankenstein? That guy wasn't really a hero. Help me out here, Tony, you're up on pop culture."


Tony has made enough things for people to know that it doesn't matter what the /numbers/ say, its down to the feel of it. So he hardly measures it, just enough to figure out the right weight to take off of everything. "No Frankenstien works. He was trying to do good, he just ended up creating a monster." A smirk. "I guess thats how I feel sometimes. I mean I can't really uninvent all this stuff." He waves his hand at his lab. "And now everyone wants it, to try to replicate it. Make an army of them."

A smirk. "So I'm gonna go with you actually got the reference right. Which makes sense. The 'I always hit the mark' guy."


"Do good? I dunno if that was actually the message Shelley was going for. I think Frankenstein was pushing things a little too hard because he could." And then he shrugs. "Sometimes I get a lot of time on missions and my Kindle comes pre-loaded with a bunch of public domain stuff." Which is his excuse for deep-reading Frankenstein. Not that he needs one, but if you had to pigeonhole the archer, 'jock' would probably fit best.
He fiddles idly with a piece of scrap, flipping it around dextrous fingers without even really thinking about it. "I dunno. Did you make all this stuff just to see if you could?"


"That." He points to what looks like a iced tea maker in the corner. "Is an iced tea maker." Well at least it looks like what it is. "That uses a miniutre ARC reactor to filter and heat the water. Which somehow increases the strength of the caffine in the tea…" A pause. "That was a long answer. SO! Yes mostly I just make stuff to see if I can. Also help people. But if someone tells me I can't do it, well then I just gotta prove them wrong." A flash of a grin. "I'm an ass like that."

A beatpause.

"You know SHIELD could get you like…Amazon Prime or something so you could have more books right?"


"Oh, I can tether it to download books when I'm somewhere secure, but all that shit's locked down in terms of external access. Can't have someone hacking my Kindle to get a trace on me." That'd just be sloppy. And that's one thing Clint ain't. Well, professionally. His apartment's another story.
He looks back over at the souped up iced tea maker that's probably worth more than his entire nest egg and everything he's ever bought in his life. "What if I told you there's no way you could make me a chest plate that didn't impede my movement?" Innocent face.


"I would say you're totally taking advantage of me and I totally can." Stark replies with a smirk. "Top cabinet over there." He nods towards the wall. "There should be a couple bolts of fabric. Its a new kind a ballistic weave. Low-powered anti-impact field. Hardens on impact and then goes back to cloth." A beatpause. "And yeah, see thats what Phil said I'd make a terrible spy."


Clint goes to investigate because he's a nosy so-and-so, and because Tony said he could. He examines it and lets out a low whistle. "That'd definitely be swell for undercover work." Yes, he said 'swell.' "But what about spinal support and all that jazz? That's always been the reason for…" he raps his chest, but he's not wearing anything right now. He clearly means to signal some kind of denser material.


"Hard casing can be made the same way," Tony replies as he clicks the last piece back into place on the quiver and nods to himself. "I'll just layer the nano-weave systems thicker than for cloth. I can print out a plate for you to take home with ya. Should stop anything up to a small anti-tank round." He adds as he nods. "JARVIS reload the software." He commands as he starts to spray something onto the quiver, the scarred matte casing returning quite quickly to its unmarred look.


"One stop shop. Full service at Stark Tower," drawls Clint. He walks back over to have a look at the bow. "Here I was worried that you'd toss her in the trash and call her oudated and then start from scratch." He scratches the side of his neck. "Before you came onto the scene, some SHIELD techs did that to me. I just about broke their wrist."


"I know how people can get attached to their toys." Stark replies with a smirk. "I'm up to Mark 35 or so suits and still havn't gotten rid of the first ones. You get used to the quirks, you know what it takes." He turns and tosses the quiver back towards the agent. "There, see if that works?"


"Toys? This is a tool, sir." Never mind that Clint's rig can do everything from let out a flash of light to scatter a ball full of projectiles to firing an adhesive strong enough to lift a car. He catches, hefts, nods approvingly. He flips through the settings on the bow's handle and checks to see if the quiver's responding. "She's purring again thanks to your magic touch."


Tony salutes. "Its what I do, its what I'm good at. Dad always said play to your strengths, when he wasn't busy ignoring the fact that I existed!" He says with a grin as he leans back against the workbench. "I'll get JARVIS to print ya out that armor, consider it a test. Try to catch a bullet for me to see how it handles."


"I'll do my best," says Clint wryly. He tucks the quiver over his shoulder, then hits the button that retracts the bow so it will fit neatly into the hard-sided case. "Always happy to be a Stark guinea pig. Thanks for seeing me. Thanks for the tune-up. Good luck on your jet." He looks up at it. "I'd love to give her a test flight if you're looking for a second opinion on how she handles."


There is a smirk. "I'll let you, Nat, and May knife fight for it. This is the second generation SIRIN fighter. SHIELD already has the first generation ones, but you know me. I like to tinker." A glance back at the machine. "I'll get back to it though. I need to figure out a way so it won't melt when it goes hypersonic."

…he's not joking.


Clint does not think he's joking. "Yeeeeah, don't call me before you've figured that one out." He snaps the lid closed on the hard-sided case and hefts it up. "Thanks again. Send, uh, SHIELD the bill."

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