How the rest of the world hadn't put the pieces together and come to the obvious (and correct) conclusion stopped surprising Tony a long time ago. Too much misinformation, too many rumors, too little clearance- there were plenty of reasons and he had used them in his favor more often than not. Stirring up the rumor mill and giving Morrison a little more breathing room with a smokescreen wasn't helping, it's selfish. He couldn't call on a contractor if they're too damn paranoid to come out of hiding, right? It's pragmatic.
Appropriate detachment was something he'd had once upon a time. Reminding himself of those habits took work but it was kind of required. Couldn't function if he took every little jab personal, or the silence in the tower would well and truly drive him crazy.
Besides the inherent hypocrisy of working with someone unaffiliated with the accords to handle things when they couldn't, there wasn't so much as a twinge when he contacted Morrison deliberately. Tonight had been a deviation of the norm punctuated by an audible thwump of a body landing hard on the armor assembly pad among polite British conversation lilting through the room. Instinct had his arm up to call the armor in until the silhouette became familiar and-
How in the hell had Morrison gotten on top of his building in the first place? Sometimes he knew better than to ask and this would just have to remain one of those mysteries. FRIDAY cracked the door open with a hiss and Tony waved him in, shutting off the endless feed of less than important period drama in favor of pulling up the plotted data of Reaper and Talon's activities. "You know that line's secure, right?"
Not that he minded the visit but. Pride came first.
[ Vague works well! This is solid, thanks. ]
Appropriate detachment was something he'd had once upon a time. Reminding himself of those habits took work but it was kind of required. Couldn't function if he took every little jab personal, or the silence in the tower would well and truly drive him crazy.
Besides the inherent hypocrisy of working with someone unaffiliated with the accords to handle things when they couldn't, there wasn't so much as a twinge when he contacted Morrison deliberately. Tonight had been a deviation of the norm punctuated by an audible thwump of a body landing hard on the armor assembly pad among polite British conversation lilting through the room. Instinct had his arm up to call the armor in until the silhouette became familiar and-
How in the hell had Morrison gotten on top of his building in the first place? Sometimes he knew better than to ask and this would just have to remain one of those mysteries. FRIDAY cracked the door open with a hiss and Tony waved him in, shutting off the endless feed of less than important period drama in favor of pulling up the plotted data of Reaper and Talon's activities. "You know that line's secure, right?"
Not that he minded the visit but. Pride came first.
[ Vague works well! This is solid, thanks. ]
"Noted." He had a new method of encryption on the massive list of projects that needed handling, bumping it up the priority list wouldn't be difficult, especially if this was going to go the way he thought it would. "FRIDAY, kill the view."
The windows went opaque in short order as the lights dimmed, the plotted data of Reaper sightings and inventory of what was taken, who was killed (sometimes there's collateral damage and sometimes it was possible to hide an assassination in collateral; he wasn't unfamiliar with the concept) and what was left behind if anything. More often than not? Not much was left as evidence, not even DNA which-
Weird. But he'd seen weirder.
"Do you want me to start with what's in your veins or the relevant details?" Super Soldier Serum replication was a longstanding project in the medical world and one Stark Industries kept an eye on due to dear old dad's involvement back in the day with Project Rebirth. But that was digging back a little far for the current concerning behavior of 'what the fuck was this cell even planning' he'd been pouring over.
The windows went opaque in short order as the lights dimmed, the plotted data of Reaper sightings and inventory of what was taken, who was killed (sometimes there's collateral damage and sometimes it was possible to hide an assassination in collateral; he wasn't unfamiliar with the concept) and what was left behind if anything. More often than not? Not much was left as evidence, not even DNA which-
Weird. But he'd seen weirder.
"Do you want me to start with what's in your veins or the relevant details?" Super Soldier Serum replication was a longstanding project in the medical world and one Stark Industries kept an eye on due to dear old dad's involvement back in the day with Project Rebirth. But that was digging back a little far for the current concerning behavior of 'what the fuck was this cell even planning' he'd been pouring over.
"Funny you should say that, it ties into the first bit. You have- and I'm not sure 'knockoff' is the appropriate term but it's damn close- a version of Erskine's serum in use. A point he made in his notes that went beyond 'enhanced reflexes, strength, and healing' was something he underlined and is probably relevant to your situation- and Reaper's. Good becomes great. Bad? Becomes worse. Not much to go off of from a scientific standpoint but." One of them was an old, determined soldier and one of them got blown up and became a wrathful murder cloud in a Halloween costume. "Reyes-"
Because that was the only other surviving member he could track down connected to Blackwatch or Overwatch on paper (and off, and off the record just to be safe) "Got the same brand. So it's either his sunny disposition or the serum mutating when exposed to a physical cascade of organ failure via the application of explosives. Wetwork's not my thing, I'd have to dig deeper into the original research to even begin hypothesizing how he is what he is or if it's reversible."
Because that was the only other surviving member he could track down connected to Blackwatch or Overwatch on paper (and off, and off the record just to be safe) "Got the same brand. So it's either his sunny disposition or the serum mutating when exposed to a physical cascade of organ failure via the application of explosives. Wetwork's not my thing, I'd have to dig deeper into the original research to even begin hypothesizing how he is what he is or if it's reversible."
"Mysterious organizations using lethal means without regard to collateral damage aren't exactly my style. For one- black's not really my color. Or skullmasks, ruins my goatee." And he did work so hard to keep it well groomed. The rest of him might look like hell warmed over on occasion but the goatee? Was more or less a part of the Tony Stark Brand at this point. Keeping it tidy was a point of pride.
"Politics do bring out the worst in people." Tony was totally only commenting on the current subject, not the rubble of his own clusterfuck glimmering in the back of his eyes when he took too long to blink. This was enough of a project to keep his mind occupied and for that, and his mysterious (but not that mysterious at all, honestly Jack) guest he was somewhat grateful. Something that would keep his mind busy enough that he might actually get some real sleep when he exhausted himself. "Gotta know all the variables to see the result of the equation- even the boring ones. So that's Reaper. Then you've got the sniping spider which, well, purple catsuits aren't exactly what I'd call discreet but then again I run around in hotrod red armor."
But he wasn't a sniper. Images came up with fluid gestures, info on Widowmaker, Doomfist- "The man with the fist the size of his head and that's got to play merry hell on his spine, who designed that thing, it's beautiful and painful to look at- and the thorn in my side more often than not-"
No photo, but a symbol. A little holographic skull. "This sneaky little thing's been trying to poke into my systems for the past few years. Not sure how they're connected to the other three but I figure they've got to be."
"Politics do bring out the worst in people." Tony was totally only commenting on the current subject, not the rubble of his own clusterfuck glimmering in the back of his eyes when he took too long to blink. This was enough of a project to keep his mind occupied and for that, and his mysterious (but not that mysterious at all, honestly Jack) guest he was somewhat grateful. Something that would keep his mind busy enough that he might actually get some real sleep when he exhausted himself. "Gotta know all the variables to see the result of the equation- even the boring ones. So that's Reaper. Then you've got the sniping spider which, well, purple catsuits aren't exactly what I'd call discreet but then again I run around in hotrod red armor."
But he wasn't a sniper. Images came up with fluid gestures, info on Widowmaker, Doomfist- "The man with the fist the size of his head and that's got to play merry hell on his spine, who designed that thing, it's beautiful and painful to look at- and the thorn in my side more often than not-"
No photo, but a symbol. A little holographic skull. "This sneaky little thing's been trying to poke into my systems for the past few years. Not sure how they're connected to the other three but I figure they've got to be."
"Because she can't get through? Give me some credit, Morrison, I'm not the one watching the network all the time, I've got a million other items on the docket and making sure one hacker, scarily skilled as she might be, stays out of SI's system and my personal network isn't something I can devote all day to. FRIDAY's on it." Like JARVIS before her, FRIDAY kept a tight reign on SI's data and defenses. There was too much that was sensitive to risk on any given day and habits born from working on defense contracts didn't just vanish because he's not making weapons for the military anymore. Also: Ultron. That had been...a thing and Tony did try to make a point to learn from his mistakes.
They had it covered.
"The tower might seem like a wireless model but to get access she'd have get access. Physically." Not often one built a damn server farm in the basement but it was only efficient, and as an engineer Tony delighted in efficient building practices. "I've been doing this for awhile. I know what I'm doing."
They had it covered.
"The tower might seem like a wireless model but to get access she'd have get access. Physically." Not often one built a damn server farm in the basement but it was only efficient, and as an engineer Tony delighted in efficient building practices. "I've been doing this for awhile. I know what I'm doing."
"Considering a distinct lack of incriminating files, blackmail attempts, or replicas of my work wandering around the world- if she has access and is just sitting on it? She might be unlike anything I've seen but she's an idiot." Or playing a long game, which- well. He could give her props to that. FRIDAY started the obligatory comb of the servers all the same; the sooner they found the breach? The better. "So either she's in and I'm fucked-"
Which he doubted but hell, he'd been wrong before.
"Or she's attempting to goad me into reacting. Not a dumb call but dumping this data leaves us with nothing but what's on hardcopy." And that was a bitch and a half to dig through.
Which he doubted but hell, he'd been wrong before.
"Or she's attempting to goad me into reacting. Not a dumb call but dumping this data leaves us with nothing but what's on hardcopy." And that was a bitch and a half to dig through.
The apartment was certainly not the worst she'd seen in all her years as a ghost. Old water stains on the walls and a kitchen stove that ran on gas -- a relic from the last century, to be sure. But it worked well enough, the water beginning to hiss in the battered tin kettle she'd scrounged from somewhere. She set out two mugs, her tea strainer propped on the chipped rim of one of them. Even in all the varying situations of scarcity she'd lived though, she'd always made a point to acquire tea leaves rather than bags.
How strange, Ana reflected, that she and Jack should have ended up here together. Slumming it on the edges of a city only half-rebuilt after the Crisis. The Crisis which had made them heroes, household names the world over. Who would have imagined them decades later, worn out in some places, hardened in others?
She glanced over her shoulder at the scrape of chair legs.
"Kind of you," she said, her voice dry. "A deed of true heroism."
How strange, Ana reflected, that she and Jack should have ended up here together. Slumming it on the edges of a city only half-rebuilt after the Crisis. The Crisis which had made them heroes, household names the world over. Who would have imagined them decades later, worn out in some places, hardened in others?
She glanced over her shoulder at the scrape of chair legs.
"Kind of you," she said, her voice dry. "A deed of true heroism."
Without turning around, Ana raised one finger.
"Tea first."
Her tone was mild, but something under it said don't argue with me. Whatever it was they needed to get out between them, Ana would not be ready for it until she had a hot drink cupped in her hands. She'd talked Jack down enough times over the years that she knew she needed all the sustenance she could get.
The water finally boiled, the kettle letting out a long, forlorn whistle. She flicked off the gas and poured the tea. Steam rose from the cups, the chilly air coaxing it into long curling wisps.
She set one mug in front of Jack, then took a seat across him with the other.
"So. Talk to me. Los Angeles."
"Tea first."
Her tone was mild, but something under it said don't argue with me. Whatever it was they needed to get out between them, Ana would not be ready for it until she had a hot drink cupped in her hands. She'd talked Jack down enough times over the years that she knew she needed all the sustenance she could get.
The water finally boiled, the kettle letting out a long, forlorn whistle. She flicked off the gas and poured the tea. Steam rose from the cups, the chilly air coaxing it into long curling wisps.
She set one mug in front of Jack, then took a seat across him with the other.
"So. Talk to me. Los Angeles."
Ana did not reply immediately. She took a sip of her tea. The tannin in it was a hint of bitterness against her tongue.
"Los Angeles is an eighteen-hour flight away." Her voice was carefully neutral. She fixed him with a stare from her good eye. "And I've heard the rumours too. We've been hearing them for months. Why are they suddenly so important?"
"Los Angeles is an eighteen-hour flight away." Her voice was carefully neutral. She fixed him with a stare from her good eye. "And I've heard the rumours too. We've been hearing them for months. Why are they suddenly so important?"
He was so transparent sometimes.
Maybe only to her, Ana thought. But they had lived through the years before the fall of Overwatch together, so perhaps that was why she saw it. All the time he'd spent taking the fall, hounded by reporters and ambassadors, by activists and presidents. She'd been at his right hand through each grueling meeting and painful press conference, until she'd run from it all.
Another thing they had in common.
"There are other places we could go," she offered. Pointedly. Then, tired of the ever-growing elephant in the room: "You saw the message too."
Maybe only to her, Ana thought. But they had lived through the years before the fall of Overwatch together, so perhaps that was why she saw it. All the time he'd spent taking the fall, hounded by reporters and ambassadors, by activists and presidents. She'd been at his right hand through each grueling meeting and painful press conference, until she'd run from it all.
Another thing they had in common.
"There are other places we could go," she offered. Pointedly. Then, tired of the ever-growing elephant in the room: "You saw the message too."
Ana watched him, her own fingers curled around the handle of her mug. To an untrained observer she was infinitely more relaxed than he, but the cant of her head and the slight narrowing of her eye betrayed her alertness.
"Tell me why."
Too often Jack left things unsaid, bottled them up until they spilled over in unintended ways. Perhaps a leftover from the old days when he'd had to keep himself carefully in check, the commander perfectly groomed for the public eye. But if anyone could coax him into talking, it was her. After everything...they owed each other no less than full honesty.
"Tell me why."
Too often Jack left things unsaid, bottled them up until they spilled over in unintended ways. Perhaps a leftover from the old days when he'd had to keep himself carefully in check, the commander perfectly groomed for the public eye. But if anyone could coax him into talking, it was her. After everything...they owed each other no less than full honesty.
She listened silently, giving him the space to finish. Even after he trailed off she took her time in answering, letting the tea warm her.
"I can't say we were always in agreement, toward the end. But I don't know if you -- if we -- could have done any more, Jack." Overwatch by then had grown into a bloated, overburdened organization, slowly and surely strangled by its own bureaucratic processes and conflicting alliances. She understood. She had run from it too, after all.
"You take too much on your shoulders."
He'd been the face of Overwatch, the hero. At times she'd looked at him and seen selfless responsibility; at other times, a hubris that she saw too often in powerful men who thought they were the center of the universe. Atlas with his endless burden.
"Even now. Who's to say that this new Overwatch won't be completely different? We couldn't return to being who we once were, even if we wanted to."
"I can't say we were always in agreement, toward the end. But I don't know if you -- if we -- could have done any more, Jack." Overwatch by then had grown into a bloated, overburdened organization, slowly and surely strangled by its own bureaucratic processes and conflicting alliances. She understood. She had run from it too, after all.
"You take too much on your shoulders."
He'd been the face of Overwatch, the hero. At times she'd looked at him and seen selfless responsibility; at other times, a hubris that she saw too often in powerful men who thought they were the center of the universe. Atlas with his endless burden.
"Even now. Who's to say that this new Overwatch won't be completely different? We couldn't return to being who we once were, even if we wanted to."


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