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daylight_darknightAt least I'm keeping my promise of a chapter per day for at least one day. I'm pretty sure I've jinxed myself by saying I'd have things up by a particular date. This is a shorter chapter though actually this is the length I thought all the chapters would be but the others insisted on being longer. This was also originally supposed to be chapter 3 but the original chapter 2 needs more work.
Title: Just A Rather Very Intelligent System
Characters: Tony, Jarvis, Thor, Steve, Bruce, Clint, Natasha
Rating/Warnings: PG
Genre: Action, Angst, Humour, Family
Word Count: 1112 (this chapter)
Spoilers: The Iron Man movies and the first Avengers movie
Summary: Five times Jarvis took control of the Iron Man armour without the other Avengers finding out and one time they did.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
In many ways Tony Stark is just an ordinary man. People tend to forget that because there are so many ways in which Tony is anything but ordinary: his genius intellect, his rich extravagant lifestyle, his over-the-top arrogant attitude, his part-time superhero gig. But for all that, physically he is just an average human being. His reflexes are that of an ordinary man. They were not enhanced by super-soldier serum or gamma rays. They were not perfected over a childhood in the circus or in a covert espionage training facility, and as much as he would like to pretend to be, he is not a god. He is a human being, prone to human weaknesses and human failings, and when a human being tries to keep up with gods, monsters, and super-soldiers, the possibility of mistakes always lingers.
On one particularly tiring Tuesday, the Avengers spent over an hour saving the city of Detroit from an invasion of what Tony had colourfully described as slimy bat people. The winged creatures, or more precisely what remained of them, were now splattered across most of a city block. For some reason, their bodies began to disintegrate upon death becoming a dark purplish goo. It covered the road. It stained the buildings. It dripped off the lampposts. The goo was everywhere.
Standing in the middle of the goo covered street, Tony poked a particularly large pile with an armoured toe and grimaced when it wobbled in a rather disturbing way.
“You wouldn’t believe how glad I am not to be the one who has to clean up this mess,” he said.
“Not willing to get your hands dirty?” said Clint as he walked up beside him.
Tony popped open his faceplate and gave him a look that said exactly what he thought of that comment. “Not willing to get slimed.” He gazed down at the patches of goo splattered across his armour. “At least not anymore than I already have been.”
Barton smirked at him. He appeared surprisingly goo free. There were obvious advantages to killing things from a distance. “I thought you were a philanthropist, Stark. What about helping out the poor people of Detroit?”
“I will gladly give them anything they need to get rid of this mess. I’ll hire a hundred professional cleaners. I’ll create a giant, industrial strength, super-powered scrubber, but I am not touching any more goo.” Gazing around, Tony added, “Where have our equally slimed comrades-in-arms got to?”
Barton pointed a thumb back down the street. “Thor and Cap are busy Hulk wrangling. I don’t think the big guy likes this stuff anymore than you do. Last I saw, he’d broken a fire hydrant and was taking an impromptu shower.”
Tony snorted. “Can’t say I blame him. I feel like taking a bath for a week and the stuff’s not even on my skin.” He yawned and stretched as best he could inside the armour. “Then I think I’ll take a little siesta. What about our femme fatale?”
“Nat’s double checking to make sure they’re all dead. Caught one playing possum. Last thing we need is to have one rise from the dead when the emergency crews are…”
Clint suddenly stopped. There was a noise behind them. They both heard it. It was only a small sound, the scruff of something against pavement, but with the adrenaline still running through their systems and their senses still hyperaware from the battle, the noise was like an explosion.
They swung around, Clint pulling an arrow from his quiver and setting it to his bow, Tony slamming down his faceplate and raising his arm ready to fire. Tony was tired from the long fight but he wasn’t about to let that slow him down. The moment he saw the dark shape moving across the street, he aimed and triggered the firing mechanism on the repulsor in his palm. Only then did his brain register exactly what he was aiming at.
The dark shape across the street wasn’t another slimy bat person.
The dark shape was in fact a skinny, dark skinned, preteen boy, his eyes widening in fear.
A millisecond became an eternity as Tony realized what was about to happen. He felt frozen. He knew he didn’t have time to stop the firing mechanism from activating. He tried to change his aim but it felt as if the armour had tripled in weight and his arm could only move in ridiculously slow motion. The repulsor blast would go right through the purple T-shirt the boy wore, burn through his skin, and blacken his bones. Tony could already see it in his mind. As he heard the whine of the repulsor powering up, he knew the boy was going to die. He was going to die at Tony’s hand and all Tony would be able to do was watch.
He was so certain as to what was about to happen next that it took him several seconds for him to notice that it hadn’t. He blinked in confusion.
The kid was still alive. He looked like he was about to piss his pants but he was still alive.
The whine of the repulsor had reversed decreasing in volume and Jarvis’ voice sounded in his ear.
“Repulsor powering down.”
Tony just stood there, arm still outstretched, unable to move as his heart thudded painfully in his chest.
God, he had almost...
“Damn, kid,” Barton cried. “Get out of here before you get yourself killed!”
The terrified boy took off, sneakers scrapping against the pavement.
Slowly, Tony let his arm fall back down.
“He must have snuck past the police perimeter,” Clint said placing the unused arrow back in his quiver and slinging his bow across his back. “I swear these idiotic souvenir hunters are getting worse all the time.”
Tony was still staring at where the boy had stood, his heart pounding. He was suddenly very grateful to be wearing his armour as his legs were so shaky he was sure to have collapsed without it. His whole body was covered in a cold clammy sweat.
“You okay?” asked Barton frowning at him.
“Huh?” Tony turned towards him. The mask of the armour was also something to be grateful for as he was sure he wouldn't be able to call up one of his own at that moment. “Yeah. I'm fine, fine. I just want to get the fuck out of here.”
Clint nodded. “Nice reflexes,” he said before turning and heading off down the street.
“Uh, thanks,” Tony replied.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath.
“Nice reflexes, J,” he said quietly.
“Thank you, sir,” said the A.I.
Chapter 3
Title: Just A Rather Very Intelligent System
Characters: Tony, Jarvis, Thor, Steve, Bruce, Clint, Natasha
Rating/Warnings: PG
Genre: Action, Angst, Humour, Family
Word Count: 1112 (this chapter)
Spoilers: The Iron Man movies and the first Avengers movie
Summary: Five times Jarvis took control of the Iron Man armour without the other Avengers finding out and one time they did.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
In many ways Tony Stark is just an ordinary man. People tend to forget that because there are so many ways in which Tony is anything but ordinary: his genius intellect, his rich extravagant lifestyle, his over-the-top arrogant attitude, his part-time superhero gig. But for all that, physically he is just an average human being. His reflexes are that of an ordinary man. They were not enhanced by super-soldier serum or gamma rays. They were not perfected over a childhood in the circus or in a covert espionage training facility, and as much as he would like to pretend to be, he is not a god. He is a human being, prone to human weaknesses and human failings, and when a human being tries to keep up with gods, monsters, and super-soldiers, the possibility of mistakes always lingers.
On one particularly tiring Tuesday, the Avengers spent over an hour saving the city of Detroit from an invasion of what Tony had colourfully described as slimy bat people. The winged creatures, or more precisely what remained of them, were now splattered across most of a city block. For some reason, their bodies began to disintegrate upon death becoming a dark purplish goo. It covered the road. It stained the buildings. It dripped off the lampposts. The goo was everywhere.
Standing in the middle of the goo covered street, Tony poked a particularly large pile with an armoured toe and grimaced when it wobbled in a rather disturbing way.
“You wouldn’t believe how glad I am not to be the one who has to clean up this mess,” he said.
“Not willing to get your hands dirty?” said Clint as he walked up beside him.
Tony popped open his faceplate and gave him a look that said exactly what he thought of that comment. “Not willing to get slimed.” He gazed down at the patches of goo splattered across his armour. “At least not anymore than I already have been.”
Barton smirked at him. He appeared surprisingly goo free. There were obvious advantages to killing things from a distance. “I thought you were a philanthropist, Stark. What about helping out the poor people of Detroit?”
“I will gladly give them anything they need to get rid of this mess. I’ll hire a hundred professional cleaners. I’ll create a giant, industrial strength, super-powered scrubber, but I am not touching any more goo.” Gazing around, Tony added, “Where have our equally slimed comrades-in-arms got to?”
Barton pointed a thumb back down the street. “Thor and Cap are busy Hulk wrangling. I don’t think the big guy likes this stuff anymore than you do. Last I saw, he’d broken a fire hydrant and was taking an impromptu shower.”
Tony snorted. “Can’t say I blame him. I feel like taking a bath for a week and the stuff’s not even on my skin.” He yawned and stretched as best he could inside the armour. “Then I think I’ll take a little siesta. What about our femme fatale?”
“Nat’s double checking to make sure they’re all dead. Caught one playing possum. Last thing we need is to have one rise from the dead when the emergency crews are…”
Clint suddenly stopped. There was a noise behind them. They both heard it. It was only a small sound, the scruff of something against pavement, but with the adrenaline still running through their systems and their senses still hyperaware from the battle, the noise was like an explosion.
They swung around, Clint pulling an arrow from his quiver and setting it to his bow, Tony slamming down his faceplate and raising his arm ready to fire. Tony was tired from the long fight but he wasn’t about to let that slow him down. The moment he saw the dark shape moving across the street, he aimed and triggered the firing mechanism on the repulsor in his palm. Only then did his brain register exactly what he was aiming at.
The dark shape across the street wasn’t another slimy bat person.
The dark shape was in fact a skinny, dark skinned, preteen boy, his eyes widening in fear.
A millisecond became an eternity as Tony realized what was about to happen. He felt frozen. He knew he didn’t have time to stop the firing mechanism from activating. He tried to change his aim but it felt as if the armour had tripled in weight and his arm could only move in ridiculously slow motion. The repulsor blast would go right through the purple T-shirt the boy wore, burn through his skin, and blacken his bones. Tony could already see it in his mind. As he heard the whine of the repulsor powering up, he knew the boy was going to die. He was going to die at Tony’s hand and all Tony would be able to do was watch.
He was so certain as to what was about to happen next that it took him several seconds for him to notice that it hadn’t. He blinked in confusion.
The kid was still alive. He looked like he was about to piss his pants but he was still alive.
The whine of the repulsor had reversed decreasing in volume and Jarvis’ voice sounded in his ear.
“Repulsor powering down.”
Tony just stood there, arm still outstretched, unable to move as his heart thudded painfully in his chest.
God, he had almost...
“Damn, kid,” Barton cried. “Get out of here before you get yourself killed!”
The terrified boy took off, sneakers scrapping against the pavement.
Slowly, Tony let his arm fall back down.
“He must have snuck past the police perimeter,” Clint said placing the unused arrow back in his quiver and slinging his bow across his back. “I swear these idiotic souvenir hunters are getting worse all the time.”
Tony was still staring at where the boy had stood, his heart pounding. He was suddenly very grateful to be wearing his armour as his legs were so shaky he was sure to have collapsed without it. His whole body was covered in a cold clammy sweat.
“You okay?” asked Barton frowning at him.
“Huh?” Tony turned towards him. The mask of the armour was also something to be grateful for as he was sure he wouldn't be able to call up one of his own at that moment. “Yeah. I'm fine, fine. I just want to get the fuck out of here.”
Clint nodded. “Nice reflexes,” he said before turning and heading off down the street.
“Uh, thanks,” Tony replied.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath.
“Nice reflexes, J,” he said quietly.
“Thank you, sir,” said the A.I.
Chapter 3
