Tony was rather pleased with himself. Once they started having a viable 'portable' version of the Danger Room created, with a few tweaks from the original, the government was already scrambling to get their hands on it.
Having a facility where soldiers could be put through live combat without any risk to their own lives to acclimate them to real world battlefield conditions was extremely valuable.
The fact Tony also planned to make smaller, less expensive versions of it for SWAT and other first responder teams only gave the company a major boost in the good PR department. Pepper was very pleased about that.
Unknown to Tony though, Jazz had one more facility she was making with the equipment. A place for PTSD survivors and those coming off the active combat zones to successfully 'acclimate' off of a more adrenaline-based mindset and back to a less violent atmosphere.
The room would slowly wean the soldiers being taken off active battlefields like Afganistan back into a civilian mindset, hopefully removing the triggers associated with PTSD. If nothing else it would help them cope with any traumas they had.
So it was with no little amount of relief that the order for the training equipment filled out what was left of the government contract hanging over their heads.
Tony finished that order with a flourish and made sure to have Rhodey pass along the fact that they wouldn't be taking any new contracts for a while...they still had a lot to reorganize and he would be too busy to deal with new orders for more toys.
It wouldn't be until a week later that Tony and Jazz had a chance to field test their new suits...and enter into a live combat situation of their own.
Tony looked at his daughter.
"You're okay with me going there to blow up our own weapons?"
Jazz snorted.
"Tony, the government will just sit on their asses citing 'foreign policy' and 'diplomatic relations' and do nothing. And without their approval, the soldiers can't do a damn thing about it without risking being dishonorably discharged or court martialed. If they won't do something about this situation, I see no reason why we can't," she replied flatly. "You did add the adjustments I asked for to my suit, right?"
"I still don't get how a pair of energy fans and a staff are going to be more useful than the weapons I have on mine."
"Training," said Jazz flatly, pleased she had a new pair of toys to play with.
She may have given Tony ideas when she introduced him to the Gundam series she stumbled upon...she wanted beam rifles and energy weapons to play with, dammit!
And no, it wasn't enough that she could recreate most of the weapons with her sling ring. She wanted the real thing.
(She secretly suspected she might have influenced Tony with her love of the series, because her incorperated more of the weapon designs from the show than the simple one he had on him. Either that or he was trying to earn brownie points for some reason, because her armor made her look like a valkyrie or close to it.)
With Rhodey
Rhodey had to stare at the limited view they had of the two odd suits on radar. One of them was clearly unused to dealing with things going to hell in a hurry. It was clinging to the bottom of the plane to try and curtail any more fire in it's direction.
The other one, however...
That damn thing flew around like it was made for the air doing quick turns and sudden stops like it was a damn bird, despite looking more like the old pictures of Valkyries. Then it took an odd stance and suddenly it clicked what they were dealing with.
"Son of a..."
Rhodey was already dialing Tony.
"Kinda busy here Rhodes!"
"And would this have anything to do with the two suits we have on radar that we're trying to shoot down?" asked Rhodey quietly.
"...Can I get back to you on that?" said Tony sheepishly.
"I have only one question... are you the one on the plane or the one acting like a damn falcon that's driving our pilots nuts trying to lock on?" grinned Rhodey.
"...Plane."
Rhodey had to fight the urge to smirk. He could only imagine what Jazz's stunt flying was doing for Tony's health, since it was clear she was a far superior flier compared to him.
Payback was a bitch, and he was going to enjoy giving Jazz every opportunity to give Tony heart attacks and make him suffer...er, enjoy the wonders of being a father.
Seeing the loss of the planes (which he suspected Jazz or Tony would discreetly pay them back for), Rhodey prepared himself to visit his friend and find out what the hell those two had been working on.
Rhodey noticed the open bottle of good booze, and the fact there were three glasses out before looking at Tony and Jazz.
Jazz was clearly coming of an adrenaline rush and Tony just looked frazzled.
"Not a word to Pepper," said Jazz, already pouring herself a stiff drink.
Rhodey said nothing...if Pepper asked he would honestly claim that the drinking age in England was a bit lower than in America and wash his hands of it.
Magical England, that is.
"Why not?" asked Tony.
"She seems determined to mother hen me and put a lock on the cabinet. Apparently she thinks she can keep me from turning into a second version of you if I don't start drinking early," said Jazz sarcastically. "Too bad for her I know how to pick locks and Nyx can bypass anything electronic."
"...Is that why I saw so many boxes of those bourbon filled chocolates in the cabinet?"
"As far as she's aware, they're just really expensive imported chocolates. She can't read any of the labels."
Tony snorted, and poured another shot of the more expensive brandy.
He wasn't the least bit surprised when Jazz, rather than throw it back like a novice, savored it properly without gagging at the burn.
If she had a childhood he suspected she had, he would have turned to drinking to. At least it was better than being a drug addict.
For a few hours, the three spent a good time talking, drinking and just unwinding for the day.
And then things turned weird when Jazz started on the whiskey, as the brandy had long since been used. It was only a half bottle anyway.
Rhodey winced when he realized the shift in her speech. Her accent was a bit heavier, and Tony had been quick to figure out that her tongue was considerably looser.
As much as he hated learning what had happened to her, Tony did care enough to trick his own daughter into talking.
So long as it was restricted to everything before eleven, they could still salvage the night.
Somehow Rhodey didn't think he would be that lucky.
Jazz woke up to one hell of a hangover, and was very glad she had a few potions in her private cabinet in stock to deal with it.
Exactly how much had she drunk last night for her headache to be this bad?
One quick grimace at the taste of the potion, and the worst of the effects were gone. She went out to make breakfast...only to find it already made.
She had to stare in shock at the sheer mess on the counter... apparently Tony tried to cook in her kitchen.
"Did a flour bomb explode last night when I was sleeping?" she asked incredulous.
Tony looked at her with a sheepish expression...most of the flour was on him, as he had tried to make pancakes with the mixer.
The results were...entertaining...to say the least.
"Any particular reason you're trying to cook?"
Rhodey, who for some strange reason was crashing on the couch, answered her.
"You let a few things slip last night when we opened up the whiskey," he clarified.
Jazz paled.
"What sort of things?"
"Mostly bits and pieces of your childhood, though there were a few tidbits he definitely wasn't expecting. Like how your entire boarding school turned on you for being thrown into a tournament you didn't enter, or because you have a talent for handling snakes."
"Question... how would a snake function in Scotland? I mean the climate isn't exactly reptile friendly," asked Tony.
"I have no idea. I mean it's not like the school had a proper heating system or anything...the corridors could get bloody cold during winter and fall."
She shared a look with Rhodey. He didn't seem overly worried, which meant she only went into general details and not specific tidbits that would lead Tony to discovering magic.
She wasn't quite ready to share that with her birth father. Neither was Rhodey for that matter.
Tony was still recovering, though he had bounced back rather admirably.
"How's the hangover?" asked Tony smirking at her. He could well remember his first time at hard drinking. Howard had taken far too much pleasure in berating him for it.
Jazz shared another look with Rhodey, who seemed openly amused.
"What's a hangover?
The look on Tony's expression was hilarious.
"Light and sound sensitivity, nausea, feeling like crap and a pounding headache? Any of that ring a bell?" said Tony staring at her.
Jazz grinned.
"Nope."
"HOW? You drank more than either of us! I know I would have felt it in the morning at that age!"
"Some of us are just that gifted. Besides, mum was half-Irish. Being able to weather heavy drinking with minimal effects is in our blood," said Jazz cheekily.
Not entirely true, but she had an unholy pain tolerance and she had come prepared with a hangover remedy. But he didn't need to know that.
Besides, her Irish roots had helped her to outlast the two grown men last night.
Rhodey was trying desperately hard not to laugh at Tony's face.
Jazz was staring down the obvious secret agent. Something in her gaze made Mr. Coulson feel very much like he was standing in front of a shorter green-eyed, British version of Fury with a knowing gaze.
"We are not secret agents, Mr. Coulson. Nor are we inclined to join whatever group you're part of. Tell whomever you work for that at the moment we are not interested in joining. It's bad enough Tony has it in his head to be a vigilante super hero," said Jazz flatly.
Coulson had the good grace to look a tad embarassed.
"Actually Miss Evans, when it comes to compatibility with our group, you were picked before your father was."
"What."
"Your exploits from before you left England has caught the interest of the director, and your new armor has made you even more appealing as a potential agent. We're not asking you to be a full time member, but Director Fury was wanting to know if you'd be interested in a part-time basis."
"And what's in it for me?"
"Full access to our satellites and the knowledge that you would be allowed to permanently deal with the 'problem' back in England...you could order a full strike on his bases and not have to deal with any legal issues. It's gotten quite bad since you left as the only opposition is more interested in finding you for some prophecy rather than deal any decisive blows to them," said Coulson immediately.
The offer was very tempting.
"Do you have a list of people I can ask to join whatever team I could make to permanently get rid of those idiots? And the agreement that I would not be forced to remain, regardless of what their Ministry demands?"
"By this point the Queen and the Prime Minister are fully prepared to shut down the so called Ministry of Magic and forcibly create a new one. This entire situation has gone on far too long and they need a reality check," replied Coulson. "Also, I've been authorized to inform you that regardless of the fact that you aren't the actual biological daughter of James Potter, that your current status as the head of the Potter and Black families stands due to a ritual they performed shortly after it was discovered you might not be his."
Translation: she still had all the titles and money from being the last heir of the Potter family as well as the head of the Black family. Even if she was actually a Stark.
"Any particular reason?" she asked mildly.
Coulson's smile was a tad vicious.
"Some might call it favoritism, the Queen prefers to call it an 'incentive' to clean up the mess they made since they seem so determined to use you as a child soldier. If anyone asks, you would be awarded the titles and everything that went along with them along with a possible knighthood so long as you don't screw it up. The goblins certainly aren't going to care."
"Just send me the files of the agents I can bring with me to deal with those bastards once and for all. Knowing that they wouldn't be able to harass me after would be enough reason for me to finish what they started."
Later that night, she got a mystery file from "SHIELD" as she had mentally started to call it in her head. The real name was far too long for casual use.
She hated leaving things unfinished, and this particular mess was something she would love to have over and done with, so she could live out the rest of her life in relative peace without it hanging over her head.