Tony want Big Boom [Tony/Natasha/Phil]
Oct. 10th, 2012 05:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
playboy_philanthropistco-written with natashka, takes place Monday night (10/8/12)
Natasha hadn't been sure what to expect from this mission. It wasn't her first time to Uzbekistan. Or even her second or third. The mountains were familiar from her days in the former USSR. She had memories of Soviet military outposts and bases scattered throughout the countryside, mental blueprints from twenty years ago that she could pull up. There might have been changes, but it gave them a place to start.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough of a start. Her first two recon trips after they'd landed hadn't yielded any details on where the uranium was stored, which was a frustrating start to the mission. Regrouping with Phil and Tony at the safehouse, they considered alternate plans. It didn’t take long to figure out that while the intel was solid, there were too many possible locations and not enough clues to narrow it down quickly.
“Smoke them out,” Tony said, breaking a long moment of silence. He gestured behind him towards the suit. “We have one hell of a bonfire there.”
"We're attempting to keep a low profile on this, Tony," Phil said, one hand flying over a screen, the other nursing a mug of arabic coffee.
Natasha ignored Phil, turning her attention to Tony as she stripped off weapons and cleaned them. "What do you mean? Blow up every base in country?"
“Actually, brace yourselves, I was aiming for something a bit more subtle,” Tony said with a snort. “There’s only one reason behind my visits to this area over the past years. Tony Stark shows up in these parts and you have to wonder what terrorist group he’s after. And...” He pulled out his phone and swiped through a few screens. “...it looks like an old business acquaintance is having a nice soiree this evening.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked between Natasha and Coulson. “Up for tossing a big piece of steak into the lions’ den?”
"I want at least two escape routes from the building established before you go in. And no, going through the roof in a suit doesn't count. And the truck stays nearby," Phil insisted, tapping the new plan into the case file. "Are you comfortable with being a tasty meaty treat?"
“I am always a tasty meaty treat.”
"Black tie or less formal?" Natasha asked, rolling her eyes and setting aside her coffee to rummage through her duffel bag.
“Less. The Armani and SHIELD’s latest kevlar fashion accessory should do fine for me.” Tony turned turned his attention to Phil. “You do have SHIELD’s latest with you, right?”
Phil raised an eyebrow at Tony. "Of course. We have kevlar full body armor tailored to your measurements," he said. As if anything less would be expected. The technology was a collaboration between SHIELD and Stark Industries. It was the same technology that led to Black Widow's kevlar catsuit.
Natasha nodded as she set aside the black velvet gown with the built in harnesses and pulled out a flowy low-cut leopard print gown.
"This?" she asked Tony, holding it up.
“Perfect. Love it. It gets my stamp of approval.”
"Weapons?" Phil asked her, knowing she wouldn't be able to wear her normal ammunition storing bra with that dress.
"Thigh harnesses," Natasha answered, grabbing a bottle of hair gel and coating her hair with it, slicking it back and tucking it under a wig cap. A social event in the former Soviet Union meant red wasn't an option and considering Tony's tastes and reputation, Natasha chose a blonde wig from her bag of trick, expertly attaching it to her hair before styled it in an updo, using makeup to blend in the edges and pulling out a few loose strands. "Plus I'll tuck a few in my hair."
Phil hrmmed. Natasha knew the dress she'd chosen didn't allow for much in the way of armor or as many weapons as Phil preferred she go in with, but it would help keep the focus away from her face. It was amazing how distracting tits could be to people.
The appearance of Tony Stark to the party threw everyone into a frenzy. Natasha had to begrudgingly give Tony credit. It was a good plan, allowing each of them to work the party in their own way. No one was paying attention to Stark’s newest bit of blonde arm candy, allowing her glean information from people while Tony worked the floor in his usual fashion as the perfect decoy. Natasha hoped it didn't backfire.
Their targets at the party were easy to spot after their entrance. After all, Tony Stark was one of a kind and everyone seemed to want to know just what the fuck THE Tony Stark was doing in Uzbekistan. The subtle shift in atmosphere was palpable. While there was the normal surprise at an uninvited, famous guest showing up, she could see the stiffer movements of those who had a wrench thrown into their plans, the whispered conversations that held more than just celebrity gossip, and the ‘sudden’ disappearance of some guests. The orders had gone out to speed things along. Natasha smiled. Speedy and rushed meant panic. Panic meant sloppy. This operation was about to get a lot easier.
After doing another work around of the room, Tony came back with two glasses of champagne, leaning close with a flirtatious smirk as he handed her a glass. “Need more information?” he said in a low voice close to her ear. “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum-” His hand holding his champagne gestured vaguely in the direction of the two guys hovering at the edge of the crowd. “-have been shadowing me since those other guys left. I think they’re looking for a little private showing.”
The key was in the details. Natasha let her fingers linger on Tony's arm before taking the glass of champagne and pressing her body against his.
"I'm always in the mood for more information," she whispered. "How do you want to play this? Let them follow you somewhere and then I can come looking for my honey buns?"
“I think I could go with a trip to the little boys’ room,” Tony said as he ran a hand down her back. He took a sip of his champagne and wrinkled his nose. “Or find some better alcohol. If they want to start something, they’ll take the bait. It’d be stupid to start something here in the open.” He hid another face with a sip of champagne. “Not without backup at least.”
He downed the rest of his champagne before handing his glass to Natasha and pecking her on the cheek. “Don’t keep me waiting too long,” he said with a suggestive smirk as his hand slid down to her arse and gave it a light squeeze. Sauntering across the room, he waved off the host with a grin and an excuse as he heading farther into the house.
Natasha kept one eyes on the goons that followed Tony out of the room. "Two minutes, Coulson, start the clock," she whispered into the com. She would keep an internal timer in her head, but it was good to have a back. Indulging the host's request for a dance, she confessed she knew no Russian, looking lost when he spoke it to a colleague, taking the moment to eavesdrop on their conversation. A few last names and two place names. Information that would possibly come in useful later. Letting him lead her around the dance floor, she excused herself to go to the restroom when Phil's steady voice said "Thirty seconds" in her ear.
It took Natasha another ninety seconds of trying doors before she found the right room.
Tony had started pouring out a second drink by the time the two goons had found him. He wasn’t even sure what he said to the two, just that a stream of words were coming out as soon as he saw them. Mainly talking about drinks. It was throwing the two of them off, that at least was clear. Confuse them with friendliness. Always a good tactic. But usually a short lived one.
He was telling them about how much of a shame it’d be to get blood on such an expensive rug when he caught sight of Natasha behind them. “About time you showed up, sexy,” he announced, waiting to move until the two men turned their attention to Natasha. He pulled the pocket square from his suit and wrapped his hand in it before grabbing a bottle from sidebar. He closed the distance between him and the closest goon quickly, using his momentum to put extra force behind his backhand swing. The bottle connected with the guys head with a satisfying clunk, causing him to stumble forward.
Natasha dropped to the floor, kicking the other goons legs out from under him. From then on, it was a flurry of well executed movements - knees and elbows flying and a minute later, both goons were on the floor unconscious.
"Sorry I'm late, honey. I trust you were doing okay?" Natasha asked, straightening out her gown and making sure her breasts hadn't fallen out of the dress. Hearing a groan from one of the goon, she stepped on his chest with her heel.
"Ready to leave?"
“You know me. Talking them to death,” Tony said before inspecting the whole bottle. “Huh, they were right. Takes a lot more force than you’d think to break it.” He put the bottle down and picked up a glass to sip before kneeling down to rummage through one of the goon’s pockets. “You know where we’re going?”
Natasha reached into her dress and pulled out a smart phone from God knows where and smiled. "Filched your host friend's phone. He happened to drop a few names. And the name of the site."
Crouching down, she started going through the other goon's pockets, stealing his ID card and phone. You never know when they'll be useful.
Pocketing his goon’s ID, Tony turned the guy’s phone one to scroll through its contents. “Hey, Coulson? You want to pull the van up to the drive-thru window to pick up this value meal?” he asked over the comm system as he compared the information on the goon’s phone with the host’s.
"Are they worth anything?" Coulson asked.
"Hit men or security," Natasha answered.
"I'll pick you up in the back in five," came the answer over the comms.
"Affirmative, Sir," Natasha said as she threw one of the goons over her shoulder in a fireman's carry and grabbing the collar of the other and dragging him along behind her. They made it to the back exit easily enough where Coulson was waiting to help them load the bodies into the back of the fan. Binding their wrists and ankles with zipties first, Natasha proceeded to gag them both before climbing in to keep an eye on them for the ride back to the safe house.
When they arrived back at the safehouse, they got the goons settled in a few chairs and secured them before going off to conference in the dining room.
"So, plan of attack?" Natasha asked, leaning against the table.
“Sadly not just attack,” Tony puffed out with a sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Even I’m not crazy enough to go guns blazing into a place with nuclear bombs. But if I go out there, they’ll be on us quick.”
Tony didn’t like the look on Coulson’s face when he pulled out a box and set it on the table.
"Always be prepared," Coulson said as he opened the box to reveal the hair clippers.
“Oh fuck no,” Tony said narrowing his eyes at Coulson. “You were hoping for this. I can see it in your eyes.”
Coulson had the sense to stay quiet. Anything he might say would probably betray just how amused he was by the turn of events. Getting to buzz Tony Stark would certainly go on the highlight reel of this mission.
"It's a good idea," Natasha said, connecting the clippers. "Your hair will grow back. And you're too pretty to be Soviet scum as it is. Unless you trust me to be your eyes and ears in there, this is our best chance."
Tony kept glaring at Coulson before he pulled a chair over to Natasha and flopped down into it. “I’m not being cooped up in here for hours again,” he grumbled. This was likely just some horrible SHIELD hazing that couldn’t be billed at hazing because it was ‘required for the mission’, but if it meant that he could actually go out and do something instead of sitting around waiting, he’d suffer through it.
"We leave in fifteen minutes," Coulson said as he went over to their hostages and injected them with a tranquilizers, guaranteeing they'd remain unconscious for the next twelve hours.
"We'll be ready," Natasha said, wrapping a towel around Tony's shoulders and turning the clippers on.
"Are we sure this isn't going to zap your strength, Samson?" she asked, hesitating for a moment. It wasn't every day you shaved the head of a billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist and she knew he had some PR events coming up.
"Just don't cut my ear off or give me a giant bald spot and we'll be fine, Romanoff. Time's a wasting, tic-toc."
Tony was right, but it still felt surreal to take a pair of clippers to Tony's head, watching the dark hair fall to the floor. It didn't take long and within minutes, he was buzzed to military standards. Moving to the front, Natasha trimmed his facial hair. Satisfied with the results, she sat back on her heels. Tony looked like a new man.
Natasha flushed the hair cuttings down the toilet. "DNA," she explained without looking at Tony. Without wasting more time, she pulled a phone out from her dress, pulled up some images and handed it to Tony.
“Last thing we need is Russian clones of me running around,” Tony said as he swiped through the images and then sent them to his database so that JARVIS had access to them.
"Blueprints for the facility. Turns out it's a new one. Two possible locations for the uranium - Sector C-42 and Sector C-23. Simple search and retrieve," she said as she tossed an army uniform at Tony before stripping her dress off and kicking off her heels, taking off the weapons harnesses on her thighs before pulling on her cat suit. Pulling the military uniform over it, she filled cargo pockets with a few weapons before checking and loading the AK-47s that were standard issue for the guards at the facility. "Bring The Suit."
“Never leave home without it,” Tony shot back as he pulled on the uniform with a look of disgust and then stuffed the portable suit into a black duffel to make it less obvious.
Before the fifteen minutes were up, they were headed towards the military base in a black SUV, looking for all the world to be two russian soldiers. A few words, a flash of ID, and a smile got them past the outer gate. Some fast fingered hacking got them past the interior alarms and soon they were making their way through the lower levels of the facility, each of them carrying a black duffel.
Walking with purpose, the AK-47 slung over her shoulder, Natasha headed to Sector C-42, weaving through the weapons stockpile. Bombs were bad, but they were here for the uranium. After passing multiple corridors, she stopped dead in her tracks.
"I think you're going to need to suit up."
Tony’s expression grew grimmer with each weapon he added to his mental inventory list. There wasn’t anything like Stark Industries plastered on the sides of the weapons that would completely wreck his ego, but he knew the weapons well enough and what was needed to make them. He really wouldn’t be surprised to find that there was Stark tech inside of them. He nearly ran into Natasha when she stopped short, but one glance into the large room opening up in front of them told him why.
“Well, fuck, they’re upping their game,” he breathed out, his brain automatically piecing together the parts scattered around into the intended product. MIRV variations. Sleeker than the peacemakers, but even more dangerous than his Jericho. He nodded, his mind too focused on the weapon’s parts than Natasha’s words. At least until a group of guys with dollies came around into their line of sight, looking very surprised and yelling something that wasn’t friendly. “Ah, right, suit,” he said as he gave the guys a wave before spinning around to get cover behind the wall behind the door way.
He tossed his AK-47 to Natasha before starting the process of getting on his suit. He was making a mental note to look more into actual progress in the nanotech when the goons started opening fire. “Oh yes, fire in a room full of weapons. Do they breed them that dumb in Russia?” he grumbled loudly before shooting a look at Natasha before the helmet strapped on. “No offense.”
"None taken." Natasha caught the AK-47 in her free hand, grinning a bit more than she should.
"This'll be fun," she said as she started firing on the Soviets with one of the guns. Hearing commotion to her left, she raised her left hand and started firing the other AK-47 to give Tony time to finish suiting up. Satisfied once this round of Soviets was down, she raised an eyebrow.
"So, how do we want to do this? They won't all fit in a duffel bag," Natasha teased.
“Find the payload and see how big that is,” Tony said as he opened up the comm system, his eyes going through all the statistical information that JARVIS’ scans were giving him. “All the rest of this can be blown up. Should be blown up.”
He moved into the warehouse. If there were more goons, they’d be coming in soon with the gunfire. “Find the uranium and the truck. Then we can blow this place.” Hearing shouts coming from the other end of the warehouse, a smirk quirked his lips as he took to the air. “After we take care of the pests.”
natashka, takes place Monday night (10/8/12) Natasha hadn't been sure what to expect from this mission. It wasn't her first time to Uzbekistan. Or even her second or third. The mountains were familiar from her days in the former USSR. She had memories of Soviet military outposts and bases scattered throughout the countryside, mental blueprints from twenty years ago that she could pull up. There might have been changes, but it gave them a place to start.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough of a start. Her first two recon trips after they'd landed hadn't yielded any details on where the uranium was stored, which was a frustrating start to the mission. Regrouping with Phil and Tony at the safehouse, they considered alternate plans. It didn’t take long to figure out that while the intel was solid, there were too many possible locations and not enough clues to narrow it down quickly.
“Smoke them out,” Tony said, breaking a long moment of silence. He gestured behind him towards the suit. “We have one hell of a bonfire there.”
"We're attempting to keep a low profile on this, Tony," Phil said, one hand flying over a screen, the other nursing a mug of arabic coffee.
Natasha ignored Phil, turning her attention to Tony as she stripped off weapons and cleaned them. "What do you mean? Blow up every base in country?"
“Actually, brace yourselves, I was aiming for something a bit more subtle,” Tony said with a snort. “There’s only one reason behind my visits to this area over the past years. Tony Stark shows up in these parts and you have to wonder what terrorist group he’s after. And...” He pulled out his phone and swiped through a few screens. “...it looks like an old business acquaintance is having a nice soiree this evening.” He raised an eyebrow as he looked between Natasha and Coulson. “Up for tossing a big piece of steak into the lions’ den?”
"I want at least two escape routes from the building established before you go in. And no, going through the roof in a suit doesn't count. And the truck stays nearby," Phil insisted, tapping the new plan into the case file. "Are you comfortable with being a tasty meaty treat?"
“I am always a tasty meaty treat.”
"Black tie or less formal?" Natasha asked, rolling her eyes and setting aside her coffee to rummage through her duffel bag.
“Less. The Armani and SHIELD’s latest kevlar fashion accessory should do fine for me.” Tony turned turned his attention to Phil. “You do have SHIELD’s latest with you, right?”
Phil raised an eyebrow at Tony. "Of course. We have kevlar full body armor tailored to your measurements," he said. As if anything less would be expected. The technology was a collaboration between SHIELD and Stark Industries. It was the same technology that led to Black Widow's kevlar catsuit.
Natasha nodded as she set aside the black velvet gown with the built in harnesses and pulled out a flowy low-cut leopard print gown.
"This?" she asked Tony, holding it up.
“Perfect. Love it. It gets my stamp of approval.”
"Weapons?" Phil asked her, knowing she wouldn't be able to wear her normal ammunition storing bra with that dress.
"Thigh harnesses," Natasha answered, grabbing a bottle of hair gel and coating her hair with it, slicking it back and tucking it under a wig cap. A social event in the former Soviet Union meant red wasn't an option and considering Tony's tastes and reputation, Natasha chose a blonde wig from her bag of trick, expertly attaching it to her hair before styled it in an updo, using makeup to blend in the edges and pulling out a few loose strands. "Plus I'll tuck a few in my hair."
Phil hrmmed. Natasha knew the dress she'd chosen didn't allow for much in the way of armor or as many weapons as Phil preferred she go in with, but it would help keep the focus away from her face. It was amazing how distracting tits could be to people.
The appearance of Tony Stark to the party threw everyone into a frenzy. Natasha had to begrudgingly give Tony credit. It was a good plan, allowing each of them to work the party in their own way. No one was paying attention to Stark’s newest bit of blonde arm candy, allowing her glean information from people while Tony worked the floor in his usual fashion as the perfect decoy. Natasha hoped it didn't backfire.
Their targets at the party were easy to spot after their entrance. After all, Tony Stark was one of a kind and everyone seemed to want to know just what the fuck THE Tony Stark was doing in Uzbekistan. The subtle shift in atmosphere was palpable. While there was the normal surprise at an uninvited, famous guest showing up, she could see the stiffer movements of those who had a wrench thrown into their plans, the whispered conversations that held more than just celebrity gossip, and the ‘sudden’ disappearance of some guests. The orders had gone out to speed things along. Natasha smiled. Speedy and rushed meant panic. Panic meant sloppy. This operation was about to get a lot easier.
After doing another work around of the room, Tony came back with two glasses of champagne, leaning close with a flirtatious smirk as he handed her a glass. “Need more information?” he said in a low voice close to her ear. “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum-” His hand holding his champagne gestured vaguely in the direction of the two guys hovering at the edge of the crowd. “-have been shadowing me since those other guys left. I think they’re looking for a little private showing.”
The key was in the details. Natasha let her fingers linger on Tony's arm before taking the glass of champagne and pressing her body against his.
"I'm always in the mood for more information," she whispered. "How do you want to play this? Let them follow you somewhere and then I can come looking for my honey buns?"
“I think I could go with a trip to the little boys’ room,” Tony said as he ran a hand down her back. He took a sip of his champagne and wrinkled his nose. “Or find some better alcohol. If they want to start something, they’ll take the bait. It’d be stupid to start something here in the open.” He hid another face with a sip of champagne. “Not without backup at least.”
He downed the rest of his champagne before handing his glass to Natasha and pecking her on the cheek. “Don’t keep me waiting too long,” he said with a suggestive smirk as his hand slid down to her arse and gave it a light squeeze. Sauntering across the room, he waved off the host with a grin and an excuse as he heading farther into the house.
Natasha kept one eyes on the goons that followed Tony out of the room. "Two minutes, Coulson, start the clock," she whispered into the com. She would keep an internal timer in her head, but it was good to have a back. Indulging the host's request for a dance, she confessed she knew no Russian, looking lost when he spoke it to a colleague, taking the moment to eavesdrop on their conversation. A few last names and two place names. Information that would possibly come in useful later. Letting him lead her around the dance floor, she excused herself to go to the restroom when Phil's steady voice said "Thirty seconds" in her ear.
It took Natasha another ninety seconds of trying doors before she found the right room.
Tony had started pouring out a second drink by the time the two goons had found him. He wasn’t even sure what he said to the two, just that a stream of words were coming out as soon as he saw them. Mainly talking about drinks. It was throwing the two of them off, that at least was clear. Confuse them with friendliness. Always a good tactic. But usually a short lived one.
He was telling them about how much of a shame it’d be to get blood on such an expensive rug when he caught sight of Natasha behind them. “About time you showed up, sexy,” he announced, waiting to move until the two men turned their attention to Natasha. He pulled the pocket square from his suit and wrapped his hand in it before grabbing a bottle from sidebar. He closed the distance between him and the closest goon quickly, using his momentum to put extra force behind his backhand swing. The bottle connected with the guys head with a satisfying clunk, causing him to stumble forward.
Natasha dropped to the floor, kicking the other goons legs out from under him. From then on, it was a flurry of well executed movements - knees and elbows flying and a minute later, both goons were on the floor unconscious.
"Sorry I'm late, honey. I trust you were doing okay?" Natasha asked, straightening out her gown and making sure her breasts hadn't fallen out of the dress. Hearing a groan from one of the goon, she stepped on his chest with her heel.
"Ready to leave?"
“You know me. Talking them to death,” Tony said before inspecting the whole bottle. “Huh, they were right. Takes a lot more force than you’d think to break it.” He put the bottle down and picked up a glass to sip before kneeling down to rummage through one of the goon’s pockets. “You know where we’re going?”
Natasha reached into her dress and pulled out a smart phone from God knows where and smiled. "Filched your host friend's phone. He happened to drop a few names. And the name of the site."
Crouching down, she started going through the other goon's pockets, stealing his ID card and phone. You never know when they'll be useful.
Pocketing his goon’s ID, Tony turned the guy’s phone one to scroll through its contents. “Hey, Coulson? You want to pull the van up to the drive-thru window to pick up this value meal?” he asked over the comm system as he compared the information on the goon’s phone with the host’s.
"Are they worth anything?" Coulson asked.
"Hit men or security," Natasha answered.
"I'll pick you up in the back in five," came the answer over the comms.
"Affirmative, Sir," Natasha said as she threw one of the goons over her shoulder in a fireman's carry and grabbing the collar of the other and dragging him along behind her. They made it to the back exit easily enough where Coulson was waiting to help them load the bodies into the back of the fan. Binding their wrists and ankles with zipties first, Natasha proceeded to gag them both before climbing in to keep an eye on them for the ride back to the safe house.
When they arrived back at the safehouse, they got the goons settled in a few chairs and secured them before going off to conference in the dining room.
"So, plan of attack?" Natasha asked, leaning against the table.
“Sadly not just attack,” Tony puffed out with a sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Even I’m not crazy enough to go guns blazing into a place with nuclear bombs. But if I go out there, they’ll be on us quick.”
Tony didn’t like the look on Coulson’s face when he pulled out a box and set it on the table.
"Always be prepared," Coulson said as he opened the box to reveal the hair clippers.
“Oh fuck no,” Tony said narrowing his eyes at Coulson. “You were hoping for this. I can see it in your eyes.”
Coulson had the sense to stay quiet. Anything he might say would probably betray just how amused he was by the turn of events. Getting to buzz Tony Stark would certainly go on the highlight reel of this mission.
"It's a good idea," Natasha said, connecting the clippers. "Your hair will grow back. And you're too pretty to be Soviet scum as it is. Unless you trust me to be your eyes and ears in there, this is our best chance."
Tony kept glaring at Coulson before he pulled a chair over to Natasha and flopped down into it. “I’m not being cooped up in here for hours again,” he grumbled. This was likely just some horrible SHIELD hazing that couldn’t be billed at hazing because it was ‘required for the mission’, but if it meant that he could actually go out and do something instead of sitting around waiting, he’d suffer through it.
"We leave in fifteen minutes," Coulson said as he went over to their hostages and injected them with a tranquilizers, guaranteeing they'd remain unconscious for the next twelve hours.
"We'll be ready," Natasha said, wrapping a towel around Tony's shoulders and turning the clippers on.
"Are we sure this isn't going to zap your strength, Samson?" she asked, hesitating for a moment. It wasn't every day you shaved the head of a billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist and she knew he had some PR events coming up.
"Just don't cut my ear off or give me a giant bald spot and we'll be fine, Romanoff. Time's a wasting, tic-toc."
Tony was right, but it still felt surreal to take a pair of clippers to Tony's head, watching the dark hair fall to the floor. It didn't take long and within minutes, he was buzzed to military standards. Moving to the front, Natasha trimmed his facial hair. Satisfied with the results, she sat back on her heels. Tony looked like a new man.
Natasha flushed the hair cuttings down the toilet. "DNA," she explained without looking at Tony. Without wasting more time, she pulled a phone out from her dress, pulled up some images and handed it to Tony.
“Last thing we need is Russian clones of me running around,” Tony said as he swiped through the images and then sent them to his database so that JARVIS had access to them.
"Blueprints for the facility. Turns out it's a new one. Two possible locations for the uranium - Sector C-42 and Sector C-23. Simple search and retrieve," she said as she tossed an army uniform at Tony before stripping her dress off and kicking off her heels, taking off the weapons harnesses on her thighs before pulling on her cat suit. Pulling the military uniform over it, she filled cargo pockets with a few weapons before checking and loading the AK-47s that were standard issue for the guards at the facility. "Bring The Suit."
“Never leave home without it,” Tony shot back as he pulled on the uniform with a look of disgust and then stuffed the portable suit into a black duffel to make it less obvious.
Before the fifteen minutes were up, they were headed towards the military base in a black SUV, looking for all the world to be two russian soldiers. A few words, a flash of ID, and a smile got them past the outer gate. Some fast fingered hacking got them past the interior alarms and soon they were making their way through the lower levels of the facility, each of them carrying a black duffel.
Walking with purpose, the AK-47 slung over her shoulder, Natasha headed to Sector C-42, weaving through the weapons stockpile. Bombs were bad, but they were here for the uranium. After passing multiple corridors, she stopped dead in her tracks.
"I think you're going to need to suit up."
Tony’s expression grew grimmer with each weapon he added to his mental inventory list. There wasn’t anything like Stark Industries plastered on the sides of the weapons that would completely wreck his ego, but he knew the weapons well enough and what was needed to make them. He really wouldn’t be surprised to find that there was Stark tech inside of them. He nearly ran into Natasha when she stopped short, but one glance into the large room opening up in front of them told him why.
“Well, fuck, they’re upping their game,” he breathed out, his brain automatically piecing together the parts scattered around into the intended product. MIRV variations. Sleeker than the peacemakers, but even more dangerous than his Jericho. He nodded, his mind too focused on the weapon’s parts than Natasha’s words. At least until a group of guys with dollies came around into their line of sight, looking very surprised and yelling something that wasn’t friendly. “Ah, right, suit,” he said as he gave the guys a wave before spinning around to get cover behind the wall behind the door way.
He tossed his AK-47 to Natasha before starting the process of getting on his suit. He was making a mental note to look more into actual progress in the nanotech when the goons started opening fire. “Oh yes, fire in a room full of weapons. Do they breed them that dumb in Russia?” he grumbled loudly before shooting a look at Natasha before the helmet strapped on. “No offense.”
"None taken." Natasha caught the AK-47 in her free hand, grinning a bit more than she should.
"This'll be fun," she said as she started firing on the Soviets with one of the guns. Hearing commotion to her left, she raised her left hand and started firing the other AK-47 to give Tony time to finish suiting up. Satisfied once this round of Soviets was down, she raised an eyebrow.
"So, how do we want to do this? They won't all fit in a duffel bag," Natasha teased.
“Find the payload and see how big that is,” Tony said as he opened up the comm system, his eyes going through all the statistical information that JARVIS’ scans were giving him. “All the rest of this can be blown up. Should be blown up.”
He moved into the warehouse. If there were more goons, they’d be coming in soon with the gunfire. “Find the uranium and the truck. Then we can blow this place.” Hearing shouts coming from the other end of the warehouse, a smirk quirked his lips as he took to the air. “After we take care of the pests.”
