Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.
- Benjamin Franklin
***In order to avoid violating the Pit's rules against Real People fiction you will note I am not referring to any real people by name. I'm sure you can figure out who I'm referring to, but this maintains a degree of plausible deniability that I hope will keep TPTB happy. This story will go up on A03 also as soon as AO3 gets around to letting me sign up.***
Author's notes:
So I was talking about about the election with a friend on Facebook, and I observed that it felt like I was living in a dystopic alternate universe.
My friend said, "If I'm going to live in an alternate universe story where a crazy megalomaniacal billionaire is president, I wish it was Tony Stark." (And that was the third time somebody had expressed that sentiment to me in 24 hours!)
This is that story. Thanks, friend. I'll probably get hauled off in the middle of the night by the president-elect's goons for inappropriate use of the First Amendment, so thanks a lot.
I'm a political and history nerd. Therefore, the facts should be reasonably well researched, but feel free to correct my assumptions in the comments or message me if I make any errors.
This story falls into the same category of satire as Saturday Night Live, i.e., It's satire and fully protected by the First Amendment. However, behind the sarcasm is real political commentary and that, my friends, is also fully legally protected. Political commentary is something that the founding fathers had in mind when they added the First Amendment.
Because this is a story intended to be readable by a broad audience, there will be no explicit porn and no slash. There will be ample innuendo, lots of profanity, and discussion of real world scandals, and Tony Stark being Tony Stark. If you're looking for Rule 34 involving certain politicians, it's not this story (and also, ewwwwwww!).
I will also note that this is an "all heroes" universe. Specifically, there will be characters from Marvel, DC and DIsney in it, and possibly others. It's one giant crossover. (As a side note, good grief, Elisa Maza would be fifty this year. Where's the time gone?)
****I could use a beta reader or two who's familiar with Marvel and/or DC superheroes. I have a working knowledge of both, but neither is a primary fandom for me.****
It should have been a victory celebration.
Tony Stark sipped at a glass of expensive champagne, and wished it were whiskey. The large room had once been a medieval dining hall in a castle. That castle was now relocated to the top of a skyscraper and it was filled with an eclectic mix of modern heroes, powerful industry leaders, influential tech designers, the occasional politician, and an assortment of wealthy patrons.
The room was shockingly quiet.
The other guests stood around in small knots, venting and worrying and already discussing conspiracies. Though the words were hushed, he occasionally heard phrases like Diebold and No, they're Dominion, now, and impeach the bastard and maybe they're wrong - she could still win, and Nazi party in America and civil war in the streets.
Louder than the rest, and sounding more than a bit drunk, someone snarled, Goddamn orange baboon. Owen, can't we do something about this? You know he shouldn't have won, he didn't reall win, it's a plot! And I know plots better than anyone! We've known this might happen for years!
That was Xanatos, their host, and he was venting loudly at a forty-something grey-haired black woman and a blond man. The woman had a can of Coke in one hand; the blond man was holding an iPad and adjusting his glasses. At a glance, both looked familiar to Tony, but he couldn't bring names to mind.
Xanatos, who was other billionaire engineer with an epic power suit, met Tony's gaze, then abruptly turned on one heel and stalked off. He only wobbled a little and this surprised Tony. He'd been drinking harder than anyone else ever since the first polls had started to come in.
Tony went the other way, out a door and upstairs to a walk with a spectacular view of New York. He sipped his champagne, and looked at the bright lights of the city, and tried not to feel sick inside. He wasn't a liberal, exactly, but the orange baboon - as Xanatos had described him - was a frightening man.
It was tempting to conclude not my circus, not my monkeys, but that, too, wasn't right. Real people were going to suffer and probably die because of this election.
Stark had known the president-elect for a long time. He'd found him to be a slimy, weaselly, egotistical loud mouth in person, and a crooked businessman in general.
"Tony! Tony Stark! Iron Man!"
He turned, and found a microphone shoved in his face. The reporter continued, "Tony, tell me what you think about our new president!"
"I think I'd make a better president than that spray-tanned muppet," he snapped. He'd had a lot of champagne. "Wish I'd run. If he could win, so could I and at least I won't start world war three because somebody said something mean to me on twitter. Hell, I'll throw myself in front of the missiles first. Like I've done before!"
"Excuse me," a deep voice rumbled behind the reporter. "I believe you were not invited to this party. My apologies, Mr. Stark."
Tony looked up - way up - a good seven feet up - and then said with real drunken delight, "Goliath! I've always wanted to meet you. Call me Tony!"
Yeah, he'd had way too many drinks. He belatedly realized he sounded like an excited fanboy.
The reporter, meanwhile, squeaked in startled fear. The gargoyles had not been a secret for many years, but they tended to keep to themselves. Few people actually met them. Notoriously wary and cautious, they had avoided all attempts by the rest of the world's superheroes to contact them. Tony hadn't even been sure they would be at this party (though he'd been hopeful), and Xanatos's headquarters was also their home.
The gargoyle frowned down at Tony briefly, then turned towards the reporter. She was already being hustled away, however, by a pair of tuxedo clad security officers. One officer looked up as he passed Goliath and said, "Sorry, man, she slipped by us."
"Hnnh." Goliath said, "Reporters are always persistent. Be sure that she is remanded to the proper authorities for trespassing."
"Of course, sir."
After the reporter was gone, Goliath's attention focused on Tony. Tony stood his ground, and was proud that he didn't even feel particularly intimidated. By reputation, the gargoyles were forces of good. Plus, he regularly fought small wars against beings who were tougher than the bat-winged and clawed creature who was regarding him with such wary suspicion.
Boldly, he stuck a hand out. "Tony Stark."
"I know who you are." Despite his apparent caution, Goliath did shake his hand. The creature had a powerful grip, unsurprisingly, and his hand was several sizes bigger than Tony's. It was not quite like shaking hands with the Hulk, but only because there was a keenly intelligent and calmly sane light in the gargoyle's brown eyes. Goliath added, "Xanatos speaks highly of you."
"We've collaborated on a few things." Stark shrugged, trying for the appearance of humility even if he didn't really feel it. Of course Xanatos liked him, he was Tony Stark! He added, because he liked Xanatos right back, "I'm fascinated by some of his David's work in biomechanical implants. I expect he follows my work for the same reasons. Same industry. Same hobbies. Friendly competition. That sort of thing."
"Mmm." Goliath folded his arms across his chest and fell silent.
"So ..." Tony struggled to think of something to say. "... you weren't at the party?"
"I am not an American citizen."
"Neither's Thor, and he's around here somewhere. It's a party. With booze, and good company." Or it had been, until things had gone all pear shaped at the polls. What had started out as a celebration now felt like a funeral.
"I find little enjoyment in political games." The gargoyle's frown was sharper. "Nor do I wish to spend time with strangers."
"Goliath, there you are! I heard about the reporter." A woman hurried up before Stark could think of anything to say to that. It was the athletic black woman he'd seen talking to Xanatos earlier.
Xanatos sized her up with mild interest, noting that she appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties, and was well preserved and fit, with smooth skin and high cheekbones that hinted at some interesting ancestry. Native American too, maybe? She was attractive, in any event.
Then the gargoyle smiled warmly at her, and Xanatos recognized belatedly recognized the woman from a random Avengers briefing several months before.
Elisa Maza. Not available.
She spared Tony a glance, then a sharp second look of recognition. "Iron Man. Excuse us, I need to talk to my husband."
They hurried off; she took two quick strides for every one of the gargoyle's. Apparently, she wasn't any more interested in socializing with superheroes than her partner. Tony, somehow, found that refreshing. A bit insulting, but also refreshing. The hero worship got old sometimes.
Stark was still watching them go because the structure of the gargoyle's wings was fascinating when somebody cleared his throat loudly. He turned to find that Xanatos' aide was approaching. That had been the blond man he'd seen with Xanatos earlier.
Armani suit. Perfectly polished Italian leather dress shoes. Glasses. All business, no sense of humor. The guy was stereotypical: a classic assistant in the world of the rich and powerful. Stark had only briefly spoken to him in the past and always over professional matters. He only recognized him because the man was always there, somewhere in the background, when Xanatos was around. It took a minute to remember the man's name.
"Mr. Stark," Blond Guy said.
"Uh ... Burnett, right? Alan?"
"Owen." Burnett stopped, and did not offer his hand. He adjusted his glasses, peered through them, then said, "Did you mean what you said regarding being president?"
"Of course I did," he snapped, "I'd do a better job than the clown with the dead cat on his head. If any narcissistic billionaire should be president, it should be me."
"You truly believe you could do a better job," Owen said, head tilting to one side slightly. There was an odd light in Owen's eyes, and Tony found he couldn't quite figure out what the man was thinking.
Stark was too drunk to really care, however, that Owen was pinging a few of his warning bells. Instead of caution, he rolled his eyes with irritation. "Yeah, if for no other reasons than that I'm not a narcissistic asshole and I do actually play well with others. I've got morals and integrity. I learn from my mistakes. I want what's best for other people, not just what's best for me. And ..."
Burnett held a hand up, stopping Stark in what was shaping up to be a world class rant. "If you were offered the position, would you take it?"
"Fuck yeah," he said, with real feeling. He was talking out of his ass now, but he was mad about the whole election and truly furious about the thought of that man in the White House. "Fuck, yeah, I'd take it. Better me than him."
"Hmm. Perhaps we shall talk again. Good day, Mr. Stark. I believe I have some work to do."
Burnett turned and walked away.
Tony wondered if he'd missed something, then finished his champagne in one long swallow and went in search of more. The only way to deal with this night was to get black out drunk, and if the only way to do it was with David Xanatos's $500 a bottle champagne, so be it. Xanatos could afford it.