Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction and no ownership of any intellectual property is claimed or implied. Quotes from original sources are included, but rather than disrupt the flow of the story, I will acknowledge them in general here. All instances of irony are likely intentional.
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(Chapter theme song: Do You Want to Touch Me? - Joan Jet and the Blackhearts)
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"Look. Don't touch," Ranma said for what felt like the one-hundredth time that night as she continued on with her circuit of the room.
Admittedly, despite the number of middle-aged and older people in the mansion, she hadn't had to dodge or block unwanted touches nearly as often as Nerima led her to believe. Also, very few had been quite as forward as the last idiot. That said, it was getting a little annoying.
"H-Hey! The red-faced, expensively dressed man behind her yelled. "What did you do to my arm you b...?!"
Suddenly she appeared immediately in front of him, her smile all sharp edges and dreadful promise. "You want a fight? Yes? Will it be to the death? Or the pain?"
The ruggedly (and expensively) handsome features lost the ruddiness of drink and anger as the man went utterly pale, shuffling cautiously backwards. Nervously, he primped at his full, curly dark hair with his still-functional arm as he looked around him. The crowd of onlookers looked distinctly unsympathetic... the ones capable of focusing on him instead of the young woman confronting him, anyway. He also remembered that the person he had just offended was backed by someone even richer and better connected than himself. That was without taking her own devastating and repeatedly televised combat abilities into account.
Belatedly remembering his manners, he said: "I'm sorry, Ma'am that was... ungentlemanly of me," he said with a cultured, Ivy-League accent. "I humbly apologize. Would you please undo whatever it was you did to my arm?" He shifted his shoulder to set the arm Ranma had paralyzed to sway limply. She had tapped a couple of shiatsu points when he had made a grab for her silk-clad bottom as she passed. He didn't realize it, but she had slowed the moves down enough... barely... that he was capable of seeing her hand strike like a cobra so he would know it was her who did the deed. "I'm afraid I've imbibed a little too much of Tony's fine alcohol and I've been trying to unwind after a very busy few weeks," he tried to make excuses for himself. "I've had my company's anniversary to plan. New acquisitions to arrange. Efficiency plans to implement. I'm swamped."
Eyeing him with the flat eyes of a bored, yet still deadly tiger, Ranma said: "I don't care how busy you are. You don't grope women unless they say you can." She eyed the woman in the red dress with the long, blonde hair who was standing next to her victim and glaring at him in disgust and offense. It looked like the idiot had decided to let his hands wander in front of his date.
"I'm very, very sorry," he apologized again.
She pointed a finger straight between his eyes. "You try to touch me or anyone else while you're here? We'll see how well you swim with both your arms numbed." Her finger flickered to the side to hit more acupressure points to undo her technique, and his arm jerked back into responsiveness. "Now behave," she demanded firmly.
"Yes, Ma'am," he huddled into himself slightly.
She nodded curtly at the people watching the confrontation, then moved on. "Hmmph. Dink," she muttered under her breath. Behind her, she heard an outburst of guffaws and rude comments from the man's peers. Checking on Tony, she saw he was still happily playing around in his armor and getting ever drunker. Smirking at his antics, she caught sight of her reflection in one of the darkened windows and slowed for a step before she remembered the vision it showed her was really, truly herself.
{"Unreal,"} She muttered under her breath in Japanese as she took in the image hours of preparation had wrought. Then her prideful smirk deepened as she moved on. {"Then again... I might have gone for a feel too... if I had shit for brains and not a speck of honor."}
She had to admit, The Gown looked amazing. Made of gold-edged, midnight blue silk of such fine quality that it was more a half-ethereal shimmer that let every contour of the vibrant body beneath it shine through rather than mere clothing. It's collar and embroidery made it very similar to an ankle-length cheongsam, but with a halter-style top that left her shoulders and back completely bare, along with a diamond-shaped cut-out revealing her cleavage. A dragon embroidered in gold and black snaked up the back of her skirt, past her left hip, and and ended over her left breast. The right side of the skirt was dramatically slit to just below the string-thin band of her lacy black thong, giving her plenty of freedom for full strides that showed her entire leg with every other step. Sandal-style heels with black straps reaching up her calf caused the muscles in her legs to stand out even more than usual and added a sway to her hips that riveted the attention of almost every man and woman present. Gold torcs above her biceps emphasized the muscle tone there and she had a couple of gold bangles around her right wrist. A gold and onyx brooch rested in the center of the dress's neck strap, and her final bits of jewelry were sharply pointed gold earrings described as 'dragon teeth' by the woman who brought them to the fitting. The small amount of makeup the stylists and 'Natalie' had insisted on made her blue eyes look huge. Her hair had been done in a glamorous pile with a few artfully loose curled locks. She suspected the hairstyle had been picked to show off as much of The Gown as possible, and, despite her original complaints, she could safely say she approved if that was the intent.
She looked damned sexy, and she was reveling in it. Sexy, mature, and above all... dangerous. She didn't need Ki-senses to know how thoroughly she'd devastated Tony's guests just by patrolling around. And everybody thoroughly approved of that devastation. Even... or especially... the people who knew she was born a man. The validation they gave her buoyed her in grand contrast to the invective the obnoxious idiots back in Nerima had thrown at her to drag her down.
With an extra bit of assurance in her already dominating strut, Ranma prowled along, imperiously ignoring the flashes from cell-phone cameras that surrounded her. The crowd parted before her, consciously or otherwise, until she found 'Natalie' looking blank-faced in a corner. The older woman gave her a once over as she approached, her professional facade cracked a little to show admiration, and Ranma smirked back at her as she added a bit more sway to her hips for her final steps. Turning to face the room, the martial artist coolly appraising gaze swept the party and coincidentally intimidated those who looked like they wanted to join the two redheads. "How're things going?" she asked softly out the corner of her mouth. "Are you doing all right?"
"I'm fine," the older woman claimed. "Just staying out of the way and watching you slay everybody without even laying a finger on them," Ranma smiled at the compliment. "Why do you ask?"
"Your Ki's been a bit off all day, but it got worse just before the party started," Ranma said. "Haven't been able to figure out how. You're not sick or anything, so I'm guessing something is bugging you. Also, you changed out of that nice gray dress you had on earlier into that thing," she nodded derisively at the fuzzy-trimmed, leopard-print number her companion was wearing. Blinking in consternation, she added: "And now I'm someone who notices what people wear and cares about it." She sighed mournfully. "I need more hot water time."
Smirking, 'Natalie' reminded her: "Won't it take until tomorrow afternoon... or..." she glanced at her watch to verify it was well past midnight, "...this afternoon before that special soap wears off?"
"Yeah, probably," Ranma sighed again. "I can make it wear off faster by working up a sweat, but that's been hard to do around here. I just don't know how the hell Tony got his hands on it so fast, it's supposed to be expensive and rare. Still, with the hot liquids over by the caterers and people running around with hot sake or coffee or whatever, it's good to have. But don't let me get distracted." Ranma moved closer to speak softly in the other woman's ear. Natasha enjoyed how the busty Ki-adept's chest pressed into her arm and was amused at the expressions several observers formed in response to the intimate pose. "Seriously, is there something I can help with?"
"I had to change dresses when something was spilled on the other one, that's all," Natasha lied. "I fished this out of what Ms. Potts called the 'Slag-Closet.' Apparently a lot of women have left behind clothing for a variety of reasons over the years. This was actually one of the least objectionable choices that had enough room to fit the girls." She gave her chest a bounce to show what she meant, and smirked when Ranma wasn't able to stop herself from looking. Then she sighed: "I'm not too happy about wearing it, and I'm trying not to think too much about what debauchery it has been involved in." The younger woman snorted in contempt at her gossipy speculation, but still looked at her with an inquiring glance. After a couple of seconds, 'Natalie' admitted: "I also got a bit of news that I don't know if it is bad or just annoying, yet."
In fact, the Council had finally settled on a plan, and Natasha had received yet another set of orders. She had been instructed to give Stark a firm nudge along the path of self-destruction he had been following. It really wasn't the smart play, but she wasn't in any position to do anything but voice her disagreement... once. She didn't dare even file a written protest. She was loyal to SHIELD, and had demonstrated that repeatedly, but it had only been six years since she was the subject of a termination order, so there were those who'd only too eagerly fasten on any hint of disloyalty to end her career, her freedom, or even her life.
Those same idiots were likely responsible for winding the Council up. Instead of just investigating and looking for ways to keep Stark alive and useful, she and the other SHIELD agents were still supposed to do that, but also break him at the same time. Just so he'd give up the Iron Man armor. Apparently none of the powers-that-be noticed that undermining and supporting someone were mutually exclusive actions. (That is... as long as they didn't have a convenient false-flag group to take the blame. Which they didn't.) Nor were the high muckety-mucks paying any attention to the fact that they were about to piss-off the walking stealth bomber that was Ranma Saotome, who was not going to simply pack up and leave if Stark had a meltdown, no matter what they might fondly imagine.
And she wasn't the only one who was pissed off. Coulson had shown that particular smile of his that looked bland and innocent to outsiders, but told the people who knew him that he was quietly furious. Unlike her, Coulson was more free to object openly. One thing he had pointed out was SHIELD itself had been benefiting more from Stark's recent spate of innovations than they had from when he was a weapons contractor. They never bought anything from him directly, after all. Instead, they used the technologies developed by his father and him to build their own gear. There was a far greater wealth of innovation now that Tony Stark's creativity had been taken off the leash. He had not been shy about pointing out how asinine it was to put that resource at risk Palladium poisoning aside, mental distress did not go well with long-term productivity. Even though it wasn't her focus, Natasha absolutely agreed with his point. She knew Hill did, too. Fury... she didn't know where Fury's thoughts were at. She was good, but he was the best there was at keeping his own council.
Regardless, none of the experts' opinions mattered when someone on top of the chain of command was insistent on a new toy, and they were stuck with providing that toy in spite of their better judgments.
Cynic that she was, she'd always known the current play was a possibility. There was a reason they hadn't simply openly walked up to Stark... or better yet Potts... and told them what they knew of his affliction before handing over all the resources they had to help him resolve it. She'd hoped her reports of how wrong it could go with Saotome added to the equation would prevent them from taking the hard line, but, as usual, her cynicism proved to be the more accurate predictor.
Good idea or not, she accomplished her task easily by working Stark over with suggestive comments and heating up her body language. The results were playing out before her eyes as the inventor staggered drunkenly around in his multi-million-dollar weapons system.
His downward spiral wasn't a concern to her, however. He might not have been a venal and outright evil as most of her targets, but he certainly had been irritating. Her worry was how the rapport she had developed with Ranma would likely be damaged, or possibly even lost, in the upcoming wipeout. After all, her overt actions combined with the stepped-up timetable left her little in the way of plausible deniability. Potts was certainly suspicious of her now after seeing Stark go from depressed to manic after the spy got him alone for a bit.
"There's nothing either of us could do about it right now, but I might want to talk to you about it in a few days," was all she was willing to say aloud.
"I'm holding you to that," Ranma told her resolutely. "Dairokkan aside. Wild Tiger's Instinct Truth Sense aside. I still suck at figuring out what's going on with people."
"Time will fix that," 'Natalie' assured her. Nodding toward the DJ booth, she asked: "Shouldn't you be worried about Mr. Stark instead?"
"What, him being drunk?" Ranma asked nonchalantly. "Phht. Oyaji got more drunk than that a hell of a lot more frequently. Tony... I mean... Mr. Stark's a pretty funny drunk anyway. At least he's not doing that stupid necktie around his head thing."
"Ah yes," 'Natalie' said knowingly as she remembered her trips to Tokyo. "I've seen that bit with salarymen in Japan before." That also reminded her that the Japanese had a very different attitude about public drunkenness. With the all-but-officially-mandatory, manager-led department outings to bars, getting regularly plastered was practically a requirement for professional advancement.
"Everybody has," Ranma laughed shortly. "I'll get over there if and when he starts to get falling down drunk." She raised her eyebrows at the spectacle before her. "Which... apparently is now... 'scuse me." Dividing the horde of partiers again with her sheer presence, she marched over to where Iron Man had stumbled into a liquor cabinet with a crash of broken glass, slurred snickers issuing from his open helmet.
Natasha looked over to see that Colonel Rhodes had joined the festivities and was angrily pointing in Stark's direction, earning a glance from Ranma on her way across the room. Potts was talking to the man, looking weary, worried, and as if she was trying to stop him from doing something precipitous. "You've protected him from the consequences of his actions this long, Potts," the agent murmured, "but it looks like things are finally coming to a boil." She might not have been enthusiastic about the plan, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be entertained watching it play out.
"Thank you, you sexy ass-kicking fight-demon you," Tony said to his bodyguard as she held him up by his armpits long enough for him to get stable on his own. Waving her to one side, he took a firmer stance to keep from wobbling and raised the cordless microphone in the hand that was not clutching a bottle of alcohol, addressing the guests with a serious tone. "You know, the question I get asked most often is: 'Tony, how do you go to the bathroom in the suit?'" Pausing a moment, he closed his eyes and twitched a couple of times. "Just like that," he declared to cheers from the nearly-drunk-as-him crowd. Cheers turned to laughter when Ranma took a long, precise step to the side, distancing herself that much more. Coincidentally giving Pepper Potts more room to step up onto the dais beside him and claim the microphone while he clutched his knees and brayed laughter.
"Does this guy know how to throw a party or what?" the harried CEO asked the attendees, getting cheers and inspiring Tony to straighten up and give them an ironic salute.
"I love you," he mumbled drunkenly as he put an armored arm around Pepper's shoulders and leaned in to speak into the microphone she held.
"Unbelievable!" she muttered with a fixed grin. "Thank you so much. Tony, we all thank you so much for such a wonderful night," she flattered him with a louder voice in hopes of some cooperation. "And we're gonna say good night now, and thank you all for coming!" she concluded, to the groans and protests of the party-goers.
"No, no, no, we can't..." Tony whined, his voice picked up by the microphone until Pepper put it behind her back. "Wait, wait, wait. We didn't have the cake. We didn't blow out the candles," he pleaded.
"You're out of control, okay?" Pepper informed him, meeting his eyes squarely. "Trust me on this, okay?"
"You're out of control, gorgeous," he murmured.
"It's time to go to bed. It's time," she tried to persuade him.
"Give me another smooch," Tony demanded as he tried to lean in on his CEO, the raised faceplate of the armor sticking out like a hat-brim making it a chancy proposition. Ranma raised an eyebrow at the sight, then decided to wander toward the door. She had a feeling things were about to be shut down.
"You're not going to be happy about this," she promised him, holding herself away.
"Come on, you know you want to," he wheedled.
Pepper looked at him incredulously. "You just peed in the suit."
"I know," Tony said carelessly. "It has a filtration system."
"It's not sexy."
"You could drink that water." Even as she was strolling away, Ranma's nose scrunched up as her Ki-augmented hearing picked up that claim.
"Just send everybody home, okay? It's time to..."
"If you say so," Tony said resignedly.
"Okay," she nodded. "I'll take this," she took the bottle of brandy and gave him the microphone back. "You take that."
"Pepper Potts," he introduced her to the onlookers, garnering tepid applause. "She's right. The party's over," he decided as he stepped down unsteadily and into the crowd. "Then again, the party was over for me, like, an hour and a half ago. The after-party..." he quickly added, "...starts in 15 minutes! And if anybody... Pepper," he stage-muttered to the side, "...doesn't like it, there's the door!"
As the plastered billionaire raised his gauntlet to wave towards the exit, Ranma heard the distinctive sound of a repulsor capacitor charging. Launching herself back the way she just came, she streaked into the line of fire of the unsteadily weaving energy cannon and kept moving ahead of it for the precious few milliseconds before it fired. She took the bright gold-tinged bolt of energy on her crossed forearms in mid-step, but she wasn't braced to simply tank the hit. Redirecting the momentum, she went flying up in a graceful backflip, arcing in a swan-dive pose over the line of bikini-clad women who had suddenly found themselves in the line of fire.
In mid-air, Ranma heard people making a lot of confused and alarmed noises, but heard only one scream: Pepper's. Then the room went quiet as she landed beyond the bathing-suit contingent with barely a click of her spike heels. In the hushed silence she walked forward calmly and coolly as if she had merely been sauntering toward her employer all along, the girls in swimwear staggering out of her way with awed expressions. She sent a regal, reassuring nod toward Pepper, who had both hands clapped over her mouth and was staring at her with eyes as wide as anyone else.
Pacing with otherworldly grace, Ranma simply took up her station a little ways to the side of her boss again. Turning to face the civilians, she crossed her unmarked arms under her breasts and stood with cocked hips, feet planted just over shoulder's width apart, and the slit in her skirt falling open to reveal her masterpiece of a leg. She bit the tip of her tongue to maintain a bland, impassive expression against the prideful grin that wanted to blossom with the thought of just how damn cool she knew she looked. The gaping people around her were certainly blown-away.
Still wide-eyed at the noise and light of the surprise energy blast, Tony muttered: "Thought I had the safeties on," under his breath before he remembered that the 'safety' for the repulsors was JARVIS, and that the Natural Language User Interface's audio inputs throughout the room were shut down while a horde of random people were present. He would have needed to close the helmet to give any orders. Speaking into the microphone, he asked his bodyguard: "Hey, you OK over there?" Behind him, Pepper stood staring in absolute shock and appallment.
"Tch," Ranma's lip curled in contempt as she shrugged. "I took harder hits in junior high," her announcement rang out clearly over the silent crowd even without electronic amplification.
"Ranma Saotome, everyone!" Tony suddenly proclaimed, pointing more carefully at the martial artist. "The only one in the world tough enough to be Iron Man's bodyguard!"
Under the cover of the eruption of cheers and applause, Natasha smiled and murmured: "Well done, little warrior. The bosses would have to be idiots not to want you on our side." Eyes flicking to the side, she saw the Air Force pilot who had looked so confrontational before was conspicuously missing now. "Hmmm... isn't that interesting?"
"Yeaaaah!" Tony cheered wildly as he postured in front of the newly enthusiastic revelers, squatting in a low stance and pumping his fists in the air. Staggering upright again, he said over the PA: "You know... I'd feel inadequate about the junior high thing, but I know the kinds of places you went to school at. That was fun!" he slurred. "Maybe we should do it again?" He vaguely motioned a gauntlet toward the unworried redhead, but didn't raise his palm.
Caught between the warring impulses of tackling her obnoxious former employer and staying the hell away from the repulsor-armed maniac, Pepper was frozen in mid-lunge gobbling ineffectually: "No... scandal... insurance... police... fire...!"
Raising an arrogant, crimson eyebrow, Ranma replied loud and clear: "If you want me to kick your drunk ass, you can do that. If you want to shoot things and still wake up in the same number of pieces as you got now, we'll go out to the deck and I'll throw rocks or something for you to hit." She smirked challengingly. "If you can hit anything! It'll be like hanabi... like fireworks."
Tony looked at her dumbly, swaying a little where he stood. Two heartbeats later, he grinned madly and yelled: "This! Will! Be! AWESOME! Let's go!" He hurried as best he could through the invitees. "Hanabi! Hanabi!"
"Ha-na-bi! Ha-na-bi!" his inebriated guests took up the chant, following him out.
Behind them, Pepper tried several times to have her objections heard over the cheering crowd, then threw up her hands in pure disgust. She looked around for 'Natalie,' who had been strangely elusive all evening. They were probably in for another long day of damage control if she was any judge, and she was going to need all the help she could get, and as early as she could get it. Even if it was from someone who she suspected had been instigating a lot of this fiasco. She took a swig from Tony's abandoned booze before setting it aside and marching off.
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By the time Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes plodded his way to the top of the stairs in the Mark II, he had a clear line of sight to the wildly laughing carousers on the deck outside. Gritting his teeth, he glared from under the open titanium alloy mask as a flushed blonde woman hurled an unopened, pricey bottle of champagne out into the night air. Using a silver plate as a mirror, Tony fired his palm-blaster over his shoulder, striking the bottle dead on and making it explode into foam and shards of glass that fell to the waves below. The surrounding crowd ducked and cheered at the reckless destruction.
"Ha-Na-Bi! Ha-Na-Bi!" they cried eagerly.
Pepper was nowhere to be seen and it looked like the second newest woman in Tony's life wasn't even trying to rein him in. Ranma looked vaguely like she was supervising, but she seemed pretty useless at the moment. Some of the previous bikini-clad women weren't quite as bikini-clad as they had been. Two of them... a tanned brunette and blonde... ground their topless chests into the Japanese teen's shoulders, clutching her crossed arms. The redhead was smiling at them out the corners of her eyes and chatting them up while keeping Tony in view. Nor were the two hangers-on the only bodies missing items of clothing in the developing bacchanal.
Yet another drunken blonde volunteer in a little black dress was struggling to carry over a watermelon without spilling off her feet or out of her outfit. "I think she wants the Gallagher!" Tony yelled upon seeing her.
Ranma's waved the woman over. "Just lob it to me!" she ordered. "I'll put it up for Tony."
"Put it high! Over our heads!" the inventor chimed in excitedly, waving his microphone.
Using both hands, the party girl heaved the melon in a short arc to the martial artist. Without dislodging herself from the bare mammaries pressed into her equally bare shoulders, Ranma's right leg sliced out from the slitted gown and caught the large fruit on the bridge of her foot, somehow punting it completely intact almost straight up, just curving out enough to fall into the sea in case of a miss.
The Arc reactor in Iron Man's chest glowed as he bent back, back. When the watermelon reached the top of it's ascent, thirty feet above the heads of the attendees, the unibeam fired and detonated the thing, scattering bits of green rind and red pulp over the party-goers to their shrieks of approval. Tony fell onto his back from the recoil, starfished on the concrete and hooting with laughter.
Ranma simply pulled a traditional Japanese umbrella out of her cleavage and opened it over the heads of herself and her half-naked companions. The implement had been stored in case of the secondary effects of her curse causing something to spill in the direction of her mega-fancy dress, but it served well to keep the shower of fruit off of them. The umbrella was flicked once to clear it of dripping melon bits and closed before being put away again. The older women clinging to her goggled drunkenly at the long assembly of bamboo, paper, and lacquer disappearing into the valley between the shorter woman's breasts, but shook it off to kiss the corners of her mouth, the flick of the brunette's tongue on the edge of Ranma's lips a promise of things to come.
Focused on his old friend as he was, Rhodey didn't register the demonstration of Stuff-Space, dismissing those parts he did notice as being sleight-of-hand of some kind. He did look at Ranma when she announced: "He's here." The martial artist did not look at all surprised to see him stomping forward in the armor.
"Hey buddy!" Tony called out with a grin, trying vainly to look back at the approaching officer from his prone position. Giving up, he rolled over with a series of clangs and started struggling to his feet. "Ya... ya wanna have a skeet-shoot competition?" he suggested tipsily.
Ignoring the friendly offer, Rhodey glared out over the crowd, making several of the more observant ones nervous. "I'm only gonna say this once!" he shouted loud enough to get almost everyone's attention. "Get out!" His visor slammed down with his pronouncement, announcing his aggressive intentions.
Considerably sobered party-goers hastily fled from the immediate area, most of them streaming past the silver-armored man until they passed by the DJ booth into the next room. One overly-cautious fellow vaulted over the handrail to land on the ground in his eagerness to be out of the strike zone. Ranma's two new accessories huddled behind her until she muttered a reassuring comment to them and they scurried off to the side, covering their breasts with their hands. Curious heads poked out from behind doorjambs to watch what happened next.
"You don't deserve to wear one of these," Rhodey accused as he strode forward, pointing at Iron Man. "Shut it down!"
"Deserve? Really?" Tony asked dubiously. "I only designed every bit of these things down to the molecular structures, and built them myself. Who the hell deserves to wear it more? You?"
"Me or anyone else who isn't a stinking drunk!" Rhodey said. "If I have to beat your fool head in and shuck your unconscious ass out of that weapon, I will."
Elegantly, Ranma stepped up to stand shoulder to shoulder with her employer. "Can't people send proper challenge letters?" she asked with annoyance. "How about you go put that mechanism away and come back for a scheduled spar?"
Tony chuckled at her commentary. "Spar? No. I don't think he wants to be polite about this. Looks like I'll have to settle this mano a iron-mano."
Ranma shot him a skeptical look. Reaching out with a delicate finger, she poked a red-armored shoulder and sent her boss toppling to the side. After a couple stumbles to try to right himself, he fell to the concrete with a metallic clatter. Stepping in front of him, she said: "You are literally falling-on-your-ass drunk. Leave it to me. I'll practice some... diplomacy," she offered with an unreadable tone. Unreadable to Rhodey, that is. Tony was getting a very good idea what was about to happen.
Taking a page from the lessons of 'Natalie,' Ranma walked over to the Mark II with a slow, sensuous strut. Her hips wove a spell of enchantment with every swiveling movement, and Tony had no more intention of objecting to her actions than he did of joining a monastery.
"W-woweee," Iron Man muttered at the sight from where he had managed to sit upright. Eyes fixed firmly on his bodyguard's backside, he raised the microphone he had never dropped once in all the drunken shenanigans and asked: "Goldstein?"
The DJ popped up from behind his padded control station. "Yes, Mr. Stark?" he asked a little nervously.
"Give me a phat beat to watch my friend get his ass handed to him by an exquisite Asian redhead!" Tony ordered with a laugh.
The DJ who, unlike Rhodey, had seen said redhead literally shrug off a repulsor blast, quickly scrolled through the song list on his laptop. He picked a tune that had been running through his own head repeatedly as he watched the matchless beauty stride past during the course of the night.
"J-Just get out of the way, miss," Rhodes warned as he walked forward as well, struggling not to be caught up in the vision of her along with the other watchers. He angled his arm to carefully nudge her out of the way. "People who've been shielding Tony for years can't do it anymore. A little girl who just showed up a week ago has no chance," he concluded just as the bass percussion into of Joan Jett and the Blackhearts' 'Do You Want to Touch Me' thudded out from the speakers. Still not looking away from Ranma, Tony waved a thumbs up in Goldstein's general direction.
As he started to pass the short woman, Jim Rhodes ignored her as he demanded: "I told you to shut it... umph... down?" The last word was squeaked in surprise after Ranma grabbed the outstretched armored wrist, twisted and bent his arm, and forced him to one metal knee with a clang.
Tony cackled mockingly. "You might want to put that thing back where you found it before someone... you... gets hurt," he suggested through the microphone.
"No way!" Rhodey protested the new reality he found himself in more than he did the suggestion. With his free hand, he attempted an awkward swat at his captor, only to see his servo-powered fist be caught by a mere thumb and forefinger and held absolutely still despite the whining motors. "No way!"
Negligently, Ranma let go and allowed Rhodey to roll away from her. "It's time for all good little children to put their toys away. That means you," she jabbed a finger at the center of Rhodey's mask as he staggered to his feet. Tony snickered at her haughty tone. "Streetlights are on," she made a shooing gesture. "Go home to momma."
"Not until Tony gets out of that armor," Rhodey insisted.
"What do you think he's gonna do? Sleep in it?" Ranma asked incredulously. "You just broke the party... thanks for that by the way," she growled as she mourned lost opportunities. "The only reason he's not taking it off and going to bed now is you, baka."
"She has a point," Tony agreed, his hand lifting briefly from his metal belly as he leaned comfortably against the perimeter wall. "Then again... maybe we'll move on to the after-after-party once you're gone," he couldn't help but taunt. Ranma rolled her eyes, but wasn't inclined to argue.
"You don't get it," Rhodes snarled, "the only reason I'll be leaving is because I'm taking the suits, all the suits, with me." Ranma, Tony, and all the observers all went still at the reckless announcement.
"Is that how it is?" a sobered Stark asked as he clambered to stand again, frowning.
"That's how it is! Shut it down and hand it over!" Rhodey took a menacing step before being stopped by a tiny, well manicured hand on his chest.
"Wake up!" Ranma called out. WHANNG! Her other hand slapped the pilot across his titanium-covered cheek. "You're dreaming!" WHANNG! She backhanded him with the same hand. "Wake up!" WHANNG! "Up and at 'em!" WHANNG! "No more silly dreams!" WHANNG! She continued to slap his head from side to side, all to the rock-and-roll beat playing from the speakers.
"Gah!" Dazed and confused and a little contused despite the armor, Rhodey stumbled back from the bland-faced redhead with his ears ringing. "What are you doing?!"
"I'm yojimbo," Ranma answered evenly as she inspected her nails. "I protect my boss from all kinds of criminals. Including thieves."
"Now look here!" Rhodey burst out in offense. "I'm with the United States govern... gahh!" he yelled when Ranma punched him lightly... for her... in the face-plate, denting it a little.
"Boy, this brings back memories," Tony murmured, recalling his first encounter with the Ki-adept.
"Fine, dammit!" Rhodey bellowed and threw a series of punches at the martial artist. For her part, Ranma dodged and slid effortlessly around the swinging fists, a little annoyed the military man wasn't cluing in to how overmatched he was in close combat. "Agghh!" Rhodes shouted when the teen got bored and kicked him in the face, sending him staggering. She followed up by locking his arm again, and again he was forced down to one knee with a swivel of her hips. He tried to punch her with his free hand, but she simply caught that as well and twisted it so he was down on both knees before her. Her audience of drunk partiers had an excellent view of her mostly bare back, which, while showing off her finely tuned musculature, also showed those muscles weren't straining at all.
"Let go of me!" Rhodey demanded, off balance from being bent backward a bit, but unable to fall out of the martial artist's grip.
"Sure... once you shut that suit down," Ranma counter-offered with a smirk.
"Let...! Urmf...! Go!" the pilot shouted as he continued to struggle. He couldn't believe this! The Iron Man armor could catch a falling truck, go head to head with an MBT, and out-fly an F-22! It should not be possible for a five-foot-nothing girl to do this!
"Shut it down," Ranma repeated in a more serious tone. She didn't want to damage the suit too much, so she just held him in place until he gave up. She had a solid stance and firm control of all vectors now, so his fitful attempts to fire the boot-jets came to nothing.
"Let go!" Rhodey started to panic as the worrying pops and groans the armor had been making as he tried to struggle free became outright alarming crunching and grinding noises. Screaming damage alerts added to the chaotic chorus in his helmet and he was losing the bubble. He barely kept it together enough to use the necessary eye-movements and micro-twitches to frantically scroll through the windows of notifications and options. "STOP IT!" he yelled, not noticing that the Arc reactor in the suit's chest was building up excess charge from one of his inadvertent commands.
"Kuso!" Ranma, however, didn't miss the oncoming disaster and quickly yanked him around so he wasn't facing either her employer or the guests. She managed this just in time for the unibeam to fire.
A coruscating blast of energy lanced out of the Arc reactor, angled up just enough to catch Ranma square in her lower sternum. "Sshhhahh!" she growled as she hung on gamely, the thrust from the beam balanced by her grip on the suit. Stray refractions from the beam were deflected off her aura-reinforced flesh to spill out behind her, like water from a firehose caroming off a boulder, riddling the concrete deck with jackhammer force until Rhodes hastily cut off the roaring weapon.
Planned or not, it did work to make Ranma release Rhodes as she staggered away from him at the sudden absence of projected force. The night was suddenly very quiet as even the watching party attendees quieted themselves, shocked at what just happened. Rhodey didn't take advantage of the reprieve to try to move, however. At first he was frozen in horror at unleashing the armor's most powerful weapon on a teen in a party-dress. Then he was rooted by wonder as that teen straightened up with every evidence of good health.
… And then he was horrified again as he realized that while she may have unwounded, she was far from unscuffed.
"Oooohhhh shiiiiit...!" Tony commented from off to the side, his tone an equal mix of gleeful and terrified.
"Dammit, Rhodey! JARVIS! Full paparazzi protocols in the mansion!" Pepper yelled into her phone after hitting the emergency button.
A starburst of reddened skin, obvious despite the dim night lighting of the patio and despite her tanned complexion, could be seen where Ranma was struck. It could be seen because the expensive, sheer silk that used cover her spectacular chest was almost completely gone. A hubbub built up from the watching people as several of them tried to take pictures and videos with their phones, but found the features blocked by Stark's NLUI.
When Ranma straightened up to her full, diminutive height, the needle swung from 'almost' to 'completely' as the few remaining strands of the upper portion of the gown broke from the weight of the skirt. Then the garment shredded itself completely as the items Ranma Saotome thought useful for a party exploded out of Stuff Space.
Her umbrella, some buckets, a brace of fire-extinguishers, a baseball catcher's mask and chest protection, a baseball bat, a couple of first-aid kits, several lengths of what were becoming her signature chains, a set of chopsticks, and a police whistle all appeared out of nowhere to fall to the concrete around her. There was also her Stark HUD, which she stooped to catch in mid-air before it could be damaged.
As she stood upright again, she put the visor on with an air of menace. Making it the only significant thing she was wearing other than high-heels, some bits of jewelry, and a set of very lacy, very dainty thong panties.
"Oh shiiit!" Tony repeated. Both his glee and terror magnified, with a hefty dose of lust along for the ride.
"Oh shit!" Rhodey agreed, though his voice only held fear and panic. Shifting the damaged arms of the Mark II as best he could into flight position, he stood, turned, and jetted toward the open sky.
He didn't get far.
WHAAANG! The metal suit went abruptly from gaining altitude to kissing cement as Rhodey was grabbed by one ankle by a small hand that bodyslammed him down, limp as a ragdoll. His repulsors cut out automatically once the suit detected he was in a decidedly crashed status. They didn't get a chance to fire again. Stiffened fingers lashed out faster than machinegun fire to destroy the glowing disks set in his boots and gauntlets.
Then she scooped him up with her foot, much like she had the watermelon earlier that night, and tossed him in the air. Only instead of a high arc above the house, Rhodes only rose as far as optimum kicking height. Lofting him in the air in front of her, Ranma's bare right leg rose to hammer the armor with blindingly fast kicks.
As Joan Jett and her band sang "Yeah! Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah!" out from the speakers in the background, Rhodey's body pitched, yawed, and spun in all directions as the Mark II was juggled like a soccer ball. He was never being allowed to rise or fall more than a couple of inches or to go more than a fraction of a second without another brutal impact of unyielding flesh on all-too-to-yielding titanium alloy. Colonel Rhodes had participated in some NASA training, and had used the multi-axis disorientation simulator. This was worse.
Ranma brought the Mark II down with a final ax-kick and a metallic WHAM! Ignoring Rhodey's pained groan, she struck at his chest and ripped out the Arc reactor, causing the suit to go dark with a sputter of short circuits as she tossed it in Tony's general direction. She then hooked two fingers under the edge of the face-plate and lifted the man wrapped in hundreds of pounds of metal until he was dangling off the ground, barely able to move without power. In the abrupt hush, the titanium alloy of the Mark II rang hollowly with the distressed moans of the pilot.
"Please tell me something recorded that!" Tony whispered as he labored back to his feet. He shut his visor and started checking the possible feeds from the internal cameras.
Quickly, Pepper shouldered her way through the audience, Happy following her. Snapping her finger's once, she pointed at her bodyguard's black blazer, and he immediately took it off and handed it to her as they approached Ranma and Rhodes. "Not that I'm saying he didn't deserve that..." the CEO said as she put the jacket over Ranma's shoulders, making her blink in surprise at the courtesy. "...But is James OK?"
"This guy?" Ranma asked as she juggled her grip on the armor to slide one arm, then the other into the jacket's sleeves. "He's OK. Just a lot of bruises, and... whoops!" She blurred over to the railing and ripped off the face-plate, tossing it to the side with a series of tings as it bounced across the deck. "He's also sick as a dog," she explained over her shoulder as she stuck the man face-down over the edge. Solicitously, she held him up as he retched into the Pacific Ocean several times. "He'll be fine... mostly... once he gets some rest."
"Obviously... that man has had too much to drink!" Tony announced with delighted and hypocritical schadenfreude as he walked over, clutching the captured Arc reactor instead of the microphone. His gait was a lot steadier now that events had managed to shock him a ways back to sobriety, but his face was still a bit red when he opened his helmet again, and his social filters hadn't completely restored themselves. "How undignified for a proud officer of our armed forces!"
"Tony..." Pepper sighed in disapproval, though Happy looked amused.
"Gah!" Rhodes spat one last time before waving to be let up again. "Whu-What the hell did you hire, Tony?!" he gasped, sweat drenching his face as he sent an accusing look at his college friend.
"Somebody a lot more skilled than you," Ranma answered.
"What she said," Tony piped up.
"Sh-she's a menace! As bad as you are, Tony! She was just... she was just standing there! En-enabling! She was enabling you while you caused this whole mess!" Rhodes complained blearily. Pepper winced a bit as she somewhat agreed.
"Excuse me!?" Ranma demanded in offense. Once again, the sound of torn metal was heard as she impaled her fingers into the back of the Mark II. Using her self-made handhold, she pointed the Air Force officer toward the the part of the patio where they'd had their face off. "That?" She pointed at the spalled craters and the rent section of the metal handrail that the unibeam deflections had hit. "That was you, baka! Would have been worse if I hadn't moved you!"
"He... does have a point," Pepper hesitantly spoke up. "You didn't stop Tony from blowing all those things up..."
"Oh, c'mon!" Ranma rolled her eyes. "The hanabi? We were outside! Tony was shooting out toward the empty ocean! And it was his own stuff he was blowing up!"
"You do keep saying I keep buying too much useless stuff," Tony interjected with a faux-sage tone.
"And if he screwed up?" Rhodes demanded grimly. "If he fired into the crowd?"
"Again?" Pepper added pointedly.
"What?"
"You mean like you did?" Ranma overrode the colonel's question in a rush of words, nodding to the empty socket where the unibeam had fired from. "I'd handle it," she answered blithely. "Just like I handled you! It was safe!"
"Uh... do you mean Nerima-safe or sane-world-safe?" Happy asked apologetically.
Ranma rolled her eyes again. "Way safer than the last party I was in back in Nerima. Only one explosion... I mean one explosion with anybody in it! And it was just me!"
"That's... not saying much about your idea of safety," Happy pointed out with raised eyebrows.
"Or we need to up our game when it comes to parties around here," Tony joked.
"No you don't," Ranma denied immediately. "I liked this party way more. And it was safe!" she insisted again.
Pepper's face scrunched up in an ambiguous grimace. It was demonstrably true that Ranma had been able to protect people in both misfire incidents of the night, but it was also true she probably should have shut Tony down after the first time. Then again, she had successfully diverted the inventor in a way that let him work-off his childish bout of destructiveness in a mostly controlled manner. Her finely-honed Tony-senses told her he was well past the manic phase and was calming down nicely. Looking at it from that angle, Ranma had actually done a good job of Stark-herding up until Rhodey had blown her efforts up.
And blown up The Gown. Something she was pretty peeved about. Almost as much as she was at Tony for being so excessively Tony-ish.
Shaking her head, Pepper just said: "Let's just get these people out of here. We'll talk about this later."
"Yeah, I'm gonna need this girl to let go of me already," Rhodes pointed out crankily as he eyed the martial artist holding him off the ground.
"OK," Ranma said agreeably and set him on his feet to let him stand on his own. Or try to stand on his own.
"Wh-whoa!" Rhodey exclaimed as the full weight of the armor dragged down his weary and battered body without the Arc-reactor to provide the strength needed to stand. Futilely making a grab at the handrail with a weighted arm, he ended up toppling over on his side. "Ah!" he cried before clanging to the floor again. Pepper slapped a hand over her eyes as her former-boss and ongoing-burden laughed and pointed at his friend.
"Damn... this thing is heavy!" Rhodes wheezed.
"Yep. I did put that thing through the roof and two floors the first time I landed it," Tony informed him humorously, "and a piano."
"That's what happened to the Bluethner?" Pepper interjected angrily. "No... never mind..." as quickly as her temper rose again, she was too weary to maintain anger. "We'll talk about this later, too. Ranma, please help Rhodey down the stairs." Ranma obediently lifted the muscular soldier and his armor as perfunctorily as a garment bag. Head shaking at how casually powerful the younger woman was, she ordered: "Tony. For the last time. Get these people out of here. I'm done."
"OK! OK!" Tony agreed ungraciously, looking a bit worn down himself as endorphins faded away to leave the weariness of mild alcohol poisoning. "Alright..." he tried speaking into the loose Arc reactor before realizing that no, it wasn't a device for amplifying voices. He handed it off to Happy, then clapped his hands together with a loud clang. "Alright people" he called out to the remaining guests. "Never let it be said I give a boring party, but it looks like it got too exciting for some people! Everybody get yourselves a slice of cake and get on home." Slightly traumatized socialites stared back at him numbly.
"Seriously people..." Blinking less-than-focused eyes, the billionaire turned toward the damage to his home and pointed at it. "If that's not a signal the party's over, I don't know what is!" he quipped weakly. Only a few people turned to leave. "Oh for..." he muttered in annoyance. His helmet's visor closed and his amplified voice rang out. "Graaah! Get going!" He raised his arms in a vaguely threatening motion that owed more to a haunted house production than bleeding-edge weapon technology. It was still enough to startle the people and make them start retreating hastily.
Pepper flinched, then hissed in his ear: "Dammit, Tony! That's not what I meant! What did I say just this morning? We needed no more scandals!"
"You just said to..." Tony whined while waving vaguely at the dispersing crowd.
"Stop!" Pepper raised her hand to cease his excuse. "No. Just..." she moved both hands next to her head as if she was about to clutch it and shook them a few times. "No. We'll talk about it later. We're done. We're done for a while. How about you go downstairs with your best friend and make sure he hasn't gotten too hurt by your bullshit. I'll take care of this," she announced before scurrying toward the guests to perform some eleventh-hour tact on Tony's behalf.
"Yeah, yeah..." Tony agreed tiredly and trailed Ranma on to the workshop.
############
"Ughh," Rhodey groaned as he awoke. "Fuck!" he blurted as a heavy, quart-sized plastic tub hit his chest, startling him. The container fell to the floor and he nearly followed it. Bracing himself with his hands, he looked around and recognized he was lying on one of the couches in Tony's garage/workspace. "Dammit, Tony!" he yelled at the now armor-less technologist.
"That's organic bruise balm," Stark nodded to the fallen tub with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Use it if you want. I ain't rubbing it on for you." He fell into the chair next to the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. "Ranma healed you up enough that you don't need ice to move, but I wasn't willing to pay her a large enough bonus to make her finish the job. She's pretty pissed at you." As Rhodey moaned and grunted as he levered himself to a sitting position, he chuckled: "Funny. I'm the 'stinking drunk,' but you're the one with the hangover."
"Yeah. Hysterical," Rhodes groused flatly. "Ugh," he groaned again as he picked up the medicine. "This is healed?" he asked as he pulled up his shirt to view the dark marks on his chest and midsection.
"This is your bruises mostly healed," Tony corrected. "Muscle strain and stress chemicals in your system? Those are your problem, apparently. Don't believe me?, look at yourself and compare it to how you looked when we shelled you out of the Mark II. I got blackmail pictures if you can't remember it."
James looked at the t-shirt and sweats he was wearing when he looked to verify Tony's claim. "What happened to my clothes?"
"Trashed, mostly," Tony chuckled again. "No filtration system in the Mark II. You changed and cleaned yourself before Ranma treated you."
"Oh yeah..." the pilot recalled as he began applying the salve, though his memories after the fight were pretty vague. "Man I must have been out of it to conk out like that."
"Actually, I think Ranma knocked you out before she started. I'd bet she didn't want to risk you enjoying the Reiki."
"The hell's her problem with me?"
"She's one of the most laid-back people I've ever met," Tony stated, "but the strong hurting the weak is a pretty sharp red-line with her. Nearly firing into a crowd was not the way to get on her good side."
"What the fuck? You were firing off blasts all around like a brat with a BB-gun! Why didn't she beat you down?!" Rhodey asked resentfully.
"Lucky for me, she takes alcohol as an excuse," Tony admitted cheerfully. "Even when I also fired into the crowd accidentally."
"What?!"
"Oh, you missed that?" Tony shrugged. "She blocked the repulsor shot... with her arms," he brought up his own arms in a cross-block in demonstration. "There's a reason those beach-bunnies were yanking off their tops for her."
"Jesus Christ, Tony. What the actual fuck did you hire?"
"A very unusual and very powerful person who also happens to be very gentle and sweet when given half a chance," Tony said with seldom-seen gravity. "This despite being raised by an abusive jackass with a greedy, minuscule mind who would steal anything from anybody... including the food off her plate when she was starving... whenever it popped into his shriveled spit-wad of a brain. Another strike against you with the whole trying take the suit thing, by the way. She really doesn't like thieves these days. Why did you think that was going to work out, anyway? You said you read a brief on her. You've gotta have reviewed what she did in Monaco and Spain. We weren't exactly hiding anything about her abilities."
"I did say it was redacted," Rhodey reminded him tiredly. Seeing raised eyebrows from his former roommate, he admitted ruefully: "I might have over-emphasized how much I knew. What I saw was a one-page summary of some redacted intelligence. It mentioned how a lot of the organized crime in East Asia was terrified of her, and that she and a few other people had performed a lot of extensive vandalism that they never got arrested for because of unknown reasons."
"'Extensive vandalism,"' Tony quoted with a mordantly amused snort. "Wow. Either you're bosses felt like hanging you out to dry, or they really have no clue... or both," he scoffed. "You've seen her fight, seen her Ki... hell, you even felt her strength before you flew the Mark II the first time. Did you just... dismiss all that for the hell of it?"
"Mystical gobbledygook and putting down some raggedy-ass terrorists in the Basque Mountains, especially with a suit of her own, are a far cry from going toe-to-toe with Iron Man in a barely-there party-dress," Rhodey said sourly.
"Or less," Tony smirked. "Nice job there, by the way."
"Ugh... I did not need the reminder," Rhodey complained, embarrassed. "Did you give her muscle implants or something?"
"Christ! Seriously? We told you! We told everybody!" Tony rolled his eyes. "The suit she wore for the Basque take-down is basically just clothing. It's just used for sensors and batteries. She's got no bionics. No super-soldier serum. Nothing. She's all natural... not something you expect to hear this close to Hollywood, I admit," he joked, "but it's true. And 'toe-to-toe with Iron Man'? Yeah, she can do that, but that ain't you. I am Iron Man. Always have been, and always will be. I master-crafted each suit myself from the elemental composition on up. Nobody's going to be able to use them the way I can."
"I can take out a main battle tank in the armor," Rhodey insisted. "There has to be more to what she did."
"Nope," Tony flatly denied. Then he studied his long-term friend for a few moments. "You know what I think? I think you put on the armor and got stupid high off the power it gave you. You probably thought there was nothing in the world that could beat you while you wore it. That you were invincible. Good job, there."
"I think you're thinking of yourself," Rhodes accused.
Tony glared at him. "I have a superb idea of the limitations of the suit. Any invincibility I feel is earned from experience, study, and massive preparation. Not having someone else handing me the keys to something they built."
"Fat lot of good your invincibility does. Your own reactor is killing you slowly," Rhodey reminded him with a bit of spite.
Tony stood up and started pacing. "And you know the more stress I'm under, the less time I have! So why the hell did you even show up tonight if all you were going to do was pile more shit on me?"
"I promised my superiors that Iron Man will be back on watch in..." he glanced at a time display, "...less than twenty hours! They won't accept failure in this, there is too much at stake."
"Why?" a feminine voice demanded. Ranma walked into the room wearing a white tangzhuang over a bright red bodysuit, an odd combination that somehow worked really well for her. "I went my whole life without Iron Man. Everybody who's not a baby went their whole lives without Iron Man. They can't wait a few stupid weeks?" She vaulted over the back of a chair to land in it, her feet resting on the glass top of the table. Rhodey self-consciously pulled his t-shirt back down in the face of her disdainful look and finished applying the balm under it.
"She's got a point," Stark nodded toward the martial artist even as he positioned himself near the counter for a better look at her thinly-clad legs. "I've shut down all the cross-border open warfare, but there wasn't much of that. I've taken out all the terrorist and militia groups making overt war on civilians, not that there was many of those either. Most importantly, I've been keeping advanced technology and WMD's out of the hands of those who would misuse them, but honestly... JARVIS does most of the heavy lifting for that by way of detective work. What is so goddamn urgent that I've got to go flying out here to deal with it today? Do you have any idea how difficult it was to find one valid target for Ranma to strut her stuff with? If there's something like that in need of handling, she would be delighted to go take care of it."
"Sure would," Ranma agreed casually. "I could skip one or two workouts that day."
Not giving the officer a chance to respond, Tony continued: "Or maybe they want me to branch out? 'Cause what I haven't been doing all this time is stopping the really deadly stuff: the dictators slaughtering their own people with conventional weapons or all the 'police actions' around the world. Maybe I can head out and set the Kurds up with purely defensive, unmovable stations that will only fire on attacking aircraft or armored cavalry units? Maybe I could oh-so-gently move a few illegal settlements out of occupied Palestinian territory? Enforce a peace at the end of my repulsors?"
"Oh shit!" the blood drained from Rhodey's face. "No! That would be a shitstorm of epic proportions!"
"No? Then what. The fuck. Do you want?!" the industrialist enunciated.
"We want there to be no other advanced armors or other superweapons out there!" Rhodey exploded. "We sure as hell don't want it to be possible for an ex-convict on a shoestring budget to build anything like that thing at the race! But we can't have that! Because you lied to us!"
"I did not lie!" Tony protested icily. "The only reason Vanko pulled it off was because his dad stole the plans for the Arc reactor when working with mine, and they're both dead now!"
"Uh-huh? So who else has those plans now?"
The technologist shook his head in denial. "Nobody. If Vanko had sold them, he wouldn't have been living in a one-room apartment all this time."
"And you think he had no contingency plan? No little package of chaos and murder to be delivered somewhere in the world in the event of his death or capture?"
"We're watching for that!" Tony insisted. "JARVIS is on the job looking for exotic materials being suddenly purchased anywhere out there! It's how we knew about Hammer and the rest when they tried it themselves! It's how we know they're still trying! And failing!"
"Assuming you know what to look for and someone doesn't come up with something you didn't imagine," Rhodey said sarcastically.
"And? What do you think Iron Man can do about that today?" Ranma interjected. "Fly around and look for 'Evil Secret Lair' signs? Those come in neon lights, right?"
"Exactly!" Tony pointed excitedly at her. "Listen to the sexy redhead! Besides... if something does show up, Ranma can still take care of it if I haven't found a solution yet!"
"She's not Iron Man. She's not even American," Ranma and Tony raised dubious eyebrows at Rhodey's tirade. "We need something to point to that says 'American technology!' 'American power."'
"Tch," Ranma scoffed. "Mechanisms. My art was first written down four-, five-thousand years ago. We didn't have iron back then, much less Iron Man! Don't be so hung up on your mechanisms."
"Ranma... you fixated on the least important part and forgot the rest," Tony said grimly. "The crucial words were 'American power."'
"Meh, countries all seem... what's the word? Arbitrary," she answered. "Everybody I've ever known handles things themselves without law or government. It's what Maeda-San was going on and on about."
"Remind me to have JARVIS add more civics classes to your schedule," Tony joked wanly.
"Noted, sir," the NLUI interjected. Ranma clunked her head on the back of her chair in exasperation.
Tony's brief smirk evaporated as he elaborated: "Then pay more attention to 'power.' Rhodey here said he wanted ALL the suits. Not just one to be a stand in for me... I was fucking well arranging that already, but on my terms. The military-industrial shitheads giving him his marching orders want the Iron Man armors, all the armors, because they want the Iron Man armors. No reasons. Just excuses. And probably some revenge." He gestured at himself. "You're looking at the only American military contractor who delivered new weapon technology on time and up to spec... until I got out of selling weapons."
Tony sat down heavily, trying to share Ranma's chair with her, but she smoothly shifted to perch on the arm instead. Unbothered by the rejection, he continued: "See, Stark Industries has been the main pillar supporting the justification for all the gobs of money the US government throws at the military. As long as they were getting functional gear from us, they could get away with overpriced boondoggles or massively delayed and cost-overrun stuff from other companies."
"That's bullshit, and you know it, Tony!" Rhodes denied hotly.
"Uh-huh. F-22. They built less than 200 of them and gave up because they couldn't use them in a role that made up for the price tag."
"And you destroyed one of them!"
"...And I destroyed one of them by it running into me because the dumbass pilot picked a stupid place to observe from," Tony went on with a roll of his eyes. "Note that the lone guy in a suit took that collision way better. Anyway, the F-35 'fix' for that problem is going to be more of the same, but worse, I bet. But as long as the grift keeps rolling in, no one cares. The problem is when it comes down to actually succeeding in a mission, they needed my stuff. I was the big shark that all the little scamming bottom feeders followed behind."
"Are you seriously pointing out why you should never have stopped the contracts?" Rhodes asked incredulously. "If you're going back to selling to the military, they're not going to care about your suits anymore!"
"You're making my point for me!" Tony fake-grinned in appreciation as he gestured toward the other man with both hands before his face fell into an annoyed expression again. "What do they need me to sell weapons to them for? I'm doing the job for them! I did... past tense... the job for them! We've pulled out of Iraq! We're pulling out of Afghanistan! They don't need my weapons!"
"Then don't sell them weapons! Let them have the suits so they can take over the job!" Rhodes yelled in exasperation.
"They'll just fuck it all up," Stark scoffed in derision. "I succeeded where they failed and I didn't charge a dime! I'm not sure if they even want to succeed! There's more money to be made when the threat never quite goes away, isn't there!? War's a racket! My suits won't solve anything in their hands. Like I said, they want 'em because they want 'em. So they can be in control. In the end, it's all about power," he concluded bleakly.
"All government is about power... a monopoly of force. Nothing else can work," Rhodey reminded him. "And there are plenty of reasons for confiscating the Iron Man armor! You're just not listening!"
"OK, I'm listening. What exactly do you need the armor for today that isn't already being provided? Who needs blasting? Who needs rescuing? What war went hot in the last five minutes?" Tony cupped his hand around his ear to amplify any response. "Nothing?" he asked after a second. "That's what I thought. Fuck it. JARVIS! How long until completion?!"
"Five minutes, sir," the computer reported.
"You're not really gonna do this, right?" Ranma asked disgustedly.
"Say Ranma," Tony asked instead of answering directly, "if you were a government stooge like my buddy here, would you have wanted that?"
"Not that I'd ever be a government anything," Ranma shrugged, "but: fuck no."
"Yeah, that's what I thought," the inventor nodded. "Pepper wouldn't either. Happy wouldn't. But the Rhodes-ster here? My pal since we were in school? The guy who's been my friend longer than any of you? He's goddamn insistent. So... fuck it. You wanted the Mark II? You got it."
"Really!?" Jim Rhodes sat up straighter, a relieved expression on his face. "You won't regret this!"
"Oh... I'm gonna regret it," Tony assured him, "but so will you, and your masters." He smiled sinisterly. "Remember the original plan was for me to keep and maintain the armor. That's out the window now. You get one Iron Man Mark II armor. You get one Arc reactor to power it. You get one operating system with your specs and preferences from our practice flight that you will not be able to change. Not unless you wanna overwrite the OS and start over. You do not get a JARVIS instance with your software or any other support. You do not get any repairs or resupply from me unless you return the suit to my possession. You do not get to exceed 25,000 feet in altitude."
"Tony, what...? You can't do that!" Rhodey protested.
"Bakayaro!" Ranma snapped. "You think he'll want to keep working with you after all that?" She pointed up toward the damaged patio above. "Tawni and Ashlee were really scared, you know!"
"Tawni and Ashlee?" Tony asked, suddenly distracted.
"They were at the party? Tawni's brunette and Ashlee' blonde, they're both a few inches taller than me, both tanned, and both have pretty nice muscle tone even though they're not martial artists... which you could see really well since they aren't too hung up on the whole wearing clothes thing?" She blushed slightly.
"Oh!" Tony said, enlightened. "I never learn those girls names. I just call them Beach Bunny A, B, C, and suchlike."
"Tawni and Ashlee," Ranma repeated with an offended tone. "I'd introduce them, but they left! Dammit!"
"OK, Beach Bunnies T and A," Tony corrected himself with a smirk. "Now we know why you're so pissy at Rhodes here! He was cock-blocking you!" He turned back to the pilot. "Now that I think of it, I'm kind of surprised you made it down here alive!"
"If I promised to apologize to them and bring them back, would you stop screwing me over on maintenance and tech support?" Rhodes asked dryly.
"No," Tony denied. "You've got your golden egg. You don't get to kill the goose and keep it laying, too."
"Stupid. So dependent on mechanisms and you forget they need things to keep running? Not like martial artists," Ranma pointed out smugly. "And I'd heard all the American military was good at was logistics," her accent returned slightly as she slowly sounded out the last word. "Not real fighting like the Vietnamese or Afghans can do. Just logistics. Machines and the silly things they need to work was all you had. If you can't do even that anymore, maybe you should all give up!"
"Excuse me?!" Rhodey rose to his feet in outrage. "Who the fuck says that!?" Ranma's form flickered and she was suddenly in his face, looking up at him with a nasty, aggressive grin.
"Enough!" Tony shouted, head starting to ache again despite the treatment the martial artist had given him earlier. "Ranma, how about you go wait for his little prize until it's done, huh? No need to pummel him into submission... again." He leaned back tiredly in his chair.
"Tch, fine," Ranma grumbled before heading to the back where the auto-fabricators were.
"Tony..." Rhodey started to remonstrate.
"You might want to finish putting that goop on your legs," the billionaire advised tonelessly. He plopped an open book over his own face to cover it. "I am... so over this conversation," his muffled voice announced before he studiously ignored the officer. Rhodey scoffed at the stubborn genius before attending to his untreated aches.
A few minutes later, the men could hear a metallic scraping and clanging approaching, causing them to stand. Rhodes looked confused, but Stark was grinning. Ranma returned, dragging the newly repaired and refit Mark II behind her by it's leg. She lobbed a thick sheaf of paper bound with three rings to Tony. Grabbing the neck, she lifted it and set it on it's feet with a clatter. She pushed and nudged it around until it was standing on it's own. Then she mockingly curtsied at the pilot before taking up station next to her employer.
"The both of you are going to be obnoxious assholes about this, huh?" Rhodes sighed.
"Yowamushi! Tottoto dete ike!" Ranma sneered at him.
"What she said," Tony chimed in, pointing toward the redhead.
Rhodes shook his head at their immaturity and walked over to the deployment pad. He stood with his legs at shoulder width and his arms held a little ways away from his side and waited. Nothing happened. "Hey! What gives?"
"No JARVIS support means no nifty assembly arms," Tony said with faux patience. "How were you planning to take it off and put it back on later?"
"Uhh..." Rhodey looked helplessly at the hostile onlookers.
"Don't panic," Tony said, "there's a way to put it on and take it off by hand. I even had JARVIS make a manual for it." He held up the bound stack of printouts and glanced at the title page. "Hang on, I need to make a correction." He set the manual on the table and fished a marker out of his pocket. He crossed out 'Iron Man ' and wrote in 'War Machine Mark I' in thick, black letters. "There, all better!" He handed it over.
Rhodey read the change. "Very nice," he complimented ironically.
"I'll help too!" Ranma announced. Then she tapped the chest of the newly-christened War Machine and let it topple onto the floor with loud, hollow clangs to rest in an ungainly sprawl of metallic limbs. "Much easier to get in it now!" she offered brightly.
"Thank you so much!" Rhodes grimaced sarcastically at her in an imitation of a smile.
Tony went and turned a chair around so it faced the prone armor. Sitting on it, he looked at Ranma and patted his lap. When she rolled her eyes and refrained from moving, he patted the arm of the chair instead. She rolled her eyes again, but she went ahead and perched on it anyway. Tony sidled over toward her as close as he could manage without actually touching the superhuman fighter.
"You're seriously not going to help me with this?" Rhodes importuned. "It'll get me out of here faster," he pointed out.
"Throwing you would be faster," Ranma riposted.
"You need to learn how anyway. RTFM, dude," Tony shrugged indifferently.
"What's RT..." the Japanese native started to ask.
"Read The Fucking Manual," Tony answered, eyeing Rhodes flatly.
"Fine," the pilot sighed.
Wordlessly, the pair watched as Rhodes laboriously opened up the suit, leafing page by page through the manual for every step. The officer made a point of keeping his back to them as much as he could while he worked. After nearly an hour of oppressive silence, he was nearly sealed into the suit and Stark stood up to walk over to the launch pad. "JARVIS, deploy the Mark IV."
"Yes, sir."
"What now!?" Rhodes asked peevishly.
"Nothing. Just... removing any temptation you have to get your ass kicked some more," Tony replied calmly as the Iron Man armor was assembled around him. He crossed his arms and waited as Rhodey completed his work.
"Can you at least open the roof hatch?" Rhodey asked.
"In a minute, you'll probably want to carry the manual in this," Tony responded, grabbing a leather saddle-bag he used with his motorcycles off a tool chest and handing it over. He nodded at Ranma, then at the sizable printout on the floor, and she took the cue to grab it and put it in one of the bags. "I've got some last things I want to say, and you're gonna stand there and listen if you don't want me to just shut that suit down immediately."
"Fine, what is it?" Rhodey growled.
Tony lifted his mask and showed a weary expression. "Since Afghanistan, all I wanted to do was create instead of destroy... and make sure my creations aren't used to kill innocent people anymore. I wanted to do good that was actually good, not what some greedy shit in a fancy office said was good. Was that so fucking much to ask for that you had come in here and piss all over the place?"
"You don't understand this, but I'm here to serve my country...!" Rhodey started to respond.
"The hell you are!" Tony interrupted. "If you were picking the country over our friendship, that'd be fine! I wouldn't say a fucking word! But you're not!" He pointed a gauntleted finger at the pilot and said: "You're picking a scam run by some military/industrial complex ratfuckers."
"You're wrong! And you're out of line!" Rhodey took a step forward as he protested, but he found Ranma suddenly in his way. Flinching back, he raised his hands and said more calmly: "You... neither of you know what it's like to be a member of the armed forces. You have no conception of why we do what we do! We stand together for the good of the nation, and we're willing to risk our lives for that! Maybe you should trust the people who've shown that kind of dedication for years or decades more than your own amateur hour antics!"
"Shit," Tony scoffed. "I'd say I have a better idea what the top leadership's about. I've seen it up close. I've profited from it since the nineties. But whatever... maybe you're right. I've been wrong on very... very rare occasions."
"Frequently," Rhodey had to interject as he strapped on the saddlebags that were his makeshift bookbag.
"You better hope I'm wrong this time," Tony continued on grimly. "That thing you're wearing? That's the test-bed. It's the erector set I played around with until I got it right. It was obsolete almost the second I built it and took it for a fly the first time. The Mark IV?" He gestured down at himself. "It's also obsolete. Or will be once I build the Mark VI. Ranma here..." he gestured to the bodyguard, "...is able to fire Ki-blasts that work a hell of a lot like repulsors..."
"Wait... what!?"
Tony plowed over the interruption. "So I've got a subject matter expert working for me that my dad could only have dreamed of. She and I are about to turbo-charge Arc research and development. We have the SkyBuster today. Depending on how motivated I feel, we'll have the ThunderStruck later today or tomorrow... don't bother asking now... you'll see soon enough," he waved off the officer's pending questions.
"The point is that I hope you enjoy your prize, Lieutenant-Colonel James Rhodes, it is all you and your brass-hats are going to get, and my group is so far past it already that you'll be eating your heart out once you realize how much. And..." Tony stepped up behind Ranma, glaring the officer in the eye. "...Never forget that I go after people who use my stuff to harm innocents. If you or anyone else uses that technology for 'police actions,' or 'pacification,' or propping up dictators or any other hinky shit in any way, shape, or form, we will hunt you down! And you will not stand a chance!"
"Hey!" Rhodey yelled. He tried to step forward too, but Ranma pushed him back easily. "There's no way I would...!"
"Don't tell me what you wouldn't do!" Tony shouted back. "Not after last night! You've got your spoils! So do be so kind as to make your way off my property! Now! And don't come back!" The access to the sky opened above and Iron Man stepped back while his faceplate clanged closed.
"Tony, don't..." Rhodey started to say before he was interrupted by an explosion of silver and red light.
Ranma's braid flapped in a supernatural gale as her aura rose up around her like a bonfire. "That means get the fuck out!" she yelled as Moko Takabisha's formed around each clenched fist and her expression showed utter fury.
"Jesus Christ!" Rhodes yelped as his emotional equilibrium was hammered by the waves of angry Ki. Without another word, he launched himself into the brightening sky above. Ranma powered down as soon as he was out of sight.
############
"The second generation suit just left the mansion, heading north-east. Presumed to be flown by Rhodes," one of the members of the SHIELD observation post reported to his superior. "No sir, no signs of a fight. The suit appears to be fully repaired."
A few minutes later, another report was made. "Stark and Saotome have left. They are flying east-south-east."
############
Author's notes:
- "Hmmph. Dink." When I re-read that, I realized who I had been picturing in my head as the obnoxious rich-guy the first time I wrote that scene, so I went back and added some more details. No doubt several people will get the reference.
- And, OK... Ranma has a somewhat different perspective on 'responsible' than Pepper or Rhodey. Different culture and all. And was it really wrong? Seemed like a fun party to me.
- Ranma's comments about the US military were intended to piss Rhodes off more than anything else, but she also doesn't know about the abject failings of civilian and military strategic leadership that caused such problems in Vietnam and Afghanistan. From her perspective as a martial artist, it looks like the problem was that they relied upon machines instead of the personal development of each soldier.