#we have SO FEW STORMS to the point that major storms COMPLETELY WRECK OUR INFRASTRUCTURE EVEN TO THE NORTHERNMOST POINT. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tisfan · 7 years

Text

Stark Truth

Chapter Four of that Tony/Doom fic that nobody asked for and I just can’t seem to stay away from... things are looking grim for our boys...

To Victor goes the Spoils - A Stark Reminder - Doom’s Day Scenario

At least, Tony thought, looking around at the burning city, the Avengers weren’t the only superhero group who regularly made mincemeat out of their surroundings. Hulk was really smashie, and Captain America hadn’t yet decided that opening a door was easier than crashing through the wall, not to mention the number of bad guys who tended to use Iron Man as their own personal wrecking ball.

On the other hand, Johnny Storm was literally burning the place to the ground. Human Torch? More like human dumpster fire. Tony sighed. Fire, like biological weapons, didn’t care who was killed. Tony picked his way carefully through the burning building, getting feedback every few feet to make sure the floor was still stable and the roof wasn’t going to come down on his head.

This was the warehouse that Richards had decided was probably storing Tony’s tech -- not certain what, and an in depth examination of Stark Industries records hadn’t shown anything missing. If the building hadn’t been on fire, Tony would have left it til the battle’s end to start putting pieces together. It bothered him to be letting others go into harm’s way as he examined crates and files, downloaded computer databases, and tried to figure out what Doom was up to.

Which didn’t mean that he wasn’t fighting; the doombots were annoyingly persistant and several dozen of them had followed Iron Man into the building. They were also fairly standard grunt troops and not any of the specialized attack modulars that the Avengers had dealt with before. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d suspect they’d caught Doom entirely by surprise.

He wasn’t sure he did know better, but nothing with Doom had ever been as easy and uncomplicated as he’d believed it should be. So, yeah, probably a trap somewhere lurking under the whole mess.

In one room, Tony discovered a full layout of a superlatively upgraded Doomstahdt. Latveria’s founding, centuries ago, had given it some gorgeous architecture, for like, the 1200’s, but these days, the mud huts and fantastical cathedrals were a little out of date. Modern plumbing was scarce, and while the population was generally better off than some parts of the world, Tony knew families in coal towns with more luxurious homes than middle-class Latverians.

Except Doom seemed to be planning some major upgrades. Skyscrapers towered over the surrounding landscape, modern high-rise apartments, overly generous green public areas, underground power lines. This was going to take billions of dollars, years of work, but when it was finished… Doomstahdt was going to rival such modern cities as Singapore and Taipei.

Mobile readers, there’s a cut here. You can access Tumblr from your browser to read the rest, of check out the whole story on A03

“Guess Light Bright’s doin’ him a favor by speeding up the clearing process,” Tony muttered, leaning against the table to study the layout. At the heart, several meters underground… was a full-sized arc-reactor power source. Self-reliant, clean energy. A warm light for all mankind. Tony felt a peculiar squeeze in his chest.

The underground power generator had some improvements, even to Tony’s model, amplifiers and storage cells. Tony had JARVIS capture some images; this deserved more scrutiny than he had time for right now. At least he knew what Doom had stolen, except really, Stark Industries kept careful track of the arc-reactors. Surely he would know if one of them were missing, if even the components had been illegally salvaged.

Maybe it was theoretical, something Doom was planning, but hadn’t yet acquired. Still, it made Tony nervous; the arc-reactor was a great power source; could be used to anything. To run an entire city, or to power hordes of Doombots. Better check it out. Tony launched himself up to continue a search of the burning building.

Doom watched from the sidelines; enough out of the way that his Doombots would do their job, along with the servo-guards, and others, without drawing attention to himself. He issued commands; keeping a small group of rotating servo-guards to occupy the Fantastic Four, the rest were directed to civilian evacuation and preservation tasks.

Already, Richards and Storm had dropped over several buildings and completely disrupted emergency services in the city. Doom wasn’t even certain what they were here for; Doom had not been involved in anything besides infrastructure in the last several months.

After tearing up several squads of guards, Doom finally stepped out, commanding his guards to act as if he was merely another Doombot, serving for the moment as the Voice of Doom.

“What do you want with Doom?” he demanded, marching up the street to where Richards was involved in disgusting gyrations with half a squad of servo-guards, arms and legs stretched to ridiculous and grotesque lengths.

Richards started yelling about illegal tech and weapons programs. Doom sneered behind his mask.

“Doom has acquired nothing that is not necessary to the comfort of the population of Latveria,” Doom declared, putting his hands on his hips in aggravation. He should have known that he would not be allowed to rebuild his nation.

“You should know that Stark’s tech is watched very closely, Von Doom,” Sue said. She wasn’t visible, not that that was anything new.

“Should we forget, just because Doom rules this nation, that there are half a million people living there who just want good lives? These people, who live in an enforced monarchy, we should just allow Johnny Storm to blow up their city because he’s angry with Doom?” Doom gestured around at the burning city. “Whatever Doom has done in the past, the people of Latveria deserve better!”

“They deserve better than you!” Johnny Storm yelled.

“Perhaps,” Doom said. “But that is not your choice to make. You have come to Latveria on invasion, with no evidence. Doom --” Doom turned. The warehouse was burning. He squinted; a figure in red and gold armor whizzed past one of the windows. Iron Man had been strangely absent during the battle in the city.

Doom narrowed his gaze; the fire was spreading rapidly through the building, racing toward --

Shit. The fuel packets for the arc-reactor. Stable, safe energy, but not when some idiot set it on fire. The explosion would put a crater in the middle of Latveria the size of Sudbury crater. “Fools!”

Doom turned his back on the Fantastic Assholes.

Richards tried to head him off -- literally, stretching his neck so far out to make a loop around Doom’s retreating form -- “This one’s him! Get him, Ben!”

No. Doom did not have time for this nonsense. He tore free of Richards’s grip, moving as fast as he could. Tony could not, could not be in that building when it blew.

Richards grabbed him again.

“Idiot,” Doom growled. “If the core melts down, everyone will die!”

Doom burst into the building. The air snapped, subtle, popping Doom’s ears. Sue Storm had surrounded the entire building in one of her force-shields. Well, at least she wasn't as stupid as Richards. What she saw in that man anyway was more than Doom could understand.

Doom raced to the storage facility; the fire was already thick and even though Sue had contained the building, there was enough oxygen that it wouldn’t go out immediately. The red and gold of Tony’s armor glinted across the room.

One glance was all it took. They were, not to put too fine a point on it, doomed. The core was already burning.

Iron Man gazed into the crate, then snapped his head up to stare at Doom. There was no reading his expression behind that mask. “At least I’ll take you with me,” Tony snarled, the voice modulated by the armor, stripped of nuance.

“No,” Doom said. “I’ll take you with me.”

The core melted. Doom took three steps and crossed the room, weaving his magic behind him. A containment shield for the core, by necessity, stretching to fill the shield Sue had already locked down. The force from the inside was going to be a thousand times that of Hiroshima. Doom flung another, to protect Tony from the heat and sudden lack of oxygen, and then the building went up. Red and yellow flames engulfed everything, like being thrust suddenly into the middle of a volcano. Doom reached, grabbed Iron Man’s hand, and teleported them away.

Tony wasn’t expecting to wake up. One of these days, he was going to be right about that. Something would explode in his face and he’d just not ever wake up from that. God, sometimes he was looking forward to it, because waking up after being exploded always, always sucked.

Sometimes less than others; being blown up in Afghanistan had decidedly been worse.

Tony was flat on his back, but the material under him was relatively soft.

His body ached, but he’d had worse muscle pain after a few days of blackout drinking and partying. Not that he did that as much anymore so he wasn’t used to it.

And there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room with him. Tony risked it and opened his eyes.

It was decidedly not a hospital, despite the bag of fluids that hung on an IV stand by his bedside. Tony traced the line down to where it fed into the peripheral port in his left hand.

The room was decorated, richly furnished, and the bed Tony was situated on had silk sheets, a rich, glowing gold. The other furnishings, a wardrobe, table, desk and chairs, were all elegant and tasteful, if not necessarily to Tony’s taste, at least to someone’s.

Tony looked down at himself; he was wearing a white linen sleep-shirt of some sort and his wounds had been tended, cleaned and wrapped. He felt sort of shitty, but that was probably a result of battle and being exploded and not the care he’d gotten.

He was, in a word, confused.

Tony scrubbed his right hand over his face and swallowed; his throat was dry and he was thirsty. His hand continued down the side of his chin and then stopped cold. Something encircled his neck like a collar. More exploring proved that entirely right. He was wearing a god damned collar. Like a dog. Like a slave.

Tony got to his feet, heedless of the IV stand, which pulled over and tugged at the site. Tony ripped it free, wincing a little. He pressed his fingers over the bleeding skin and held it down to staunch the flow. There was a mirror over the dresser on the far side of the room and he headed that way, aware of the plush carpet under his feet. What the actual fuck was going on? Where was he?

The mirror threw back his face, a little beat-up, which was normal. Black eye, again.

And a silver and green collar locked around his neck, metal, solid.

Fuck.

The door behind him opened and Tony reached for the first object he could find to use as a weapon. Not that a vanity bench was going to do him lots of good.

The last person he expected to see was in the doorway.

“Rabun!” The vanity stool fell from nerveless fingers and smashed into the floor, breaking into pieces. “What are you doing here?”

Rabun spread his hands, his expression pained. “I live here.”

“You work for Doom.” Tony’s voice was flat. His heart ached in his chest and he could barely breathe. But Rabun would never see that. Stark men are iron.

“I work for Latveria, yes.” Rabun didn’t smile, didn’t try to explain, didn’t say anything. He pulled out a chair from the table and practically fell into it, his whole body screaming dejection.

“You. Work for Doom. You work for the --”

“Do not,” Rabun interrupted, cutting off Tony’s tirade, mid-rant. “I work for Latveria. I work for my home. I cannot change where I was born and I cannot change who I was born to be. I regret that this has come to pass. I did not wish you to find out in this manner.”

Tony should be angry; he knew this, knew it like he knew his own name. He should feel betrayed. Lied to. Deceived. He should hate, with every fiber of his being, the man before him. He didn’t. Watching Rabun stare at the table, his whole body weighed down with grief, Tony could do nothing but ache. “It would put us at risk,” he said, slowly. “If it were known. Have I put you at risk, then?”

“Not just yet,” Rabun said.

“Doom saved my life,” Tony said, again, taking time with his words. There were too many questions, asking them would give away too much. He had to be careful, very careful, here, and lock away his heart. “Why would he do that?”

“For me,” Rabun said.

“He knows? About us?” What us? Was there an us anymore? When he didn’t even know the truth, when everything they’d made together had been built on a carefully constructed lie?

“Doom knows,” Rabun said. “Doom has always known.”

“It was a trap.” That wasn’t a question, but Rabun held out one hand, entreatingly.

“No,” Rabun said. “If Doom had wanted to entrap you, Doom would have used bait.”

Whatever ill-conceived thoughts Tony had harbored fell away. He would have fallen into that trap; he would have done anything, paid any price, if Doom had dangled Rabun in front of him. Tony had never been exactly reasonable when it came to threats against the people he loved. There were so few of them that fell into that category, Tony couldn’t stand to lose any of them.

“He knew, and he did nothing?” That, Tony found a little hard to believe.

“Doom knew. Doom allowed it. So long as it did not interfere with the project. The risk was not from Doom, but Doom’s allies. And enemies. Who would see you, who would see us, as an opportunity to exploit.”

“So, why, then, are you not at risk?”

“The world thinks you’re dead. Richards believed he was mistaken that Doom was in the explosion,” Rabun said. “Doom has made a public statement about the invasion. For once, the world’s outrage is enflamed on Latveria’s behalf.”

“So what happens now?” Tony couldn’t help but raise his hand to the collar that someone -- probably Doom -- had put around his neck.

Rabun winced. “For Doom, for you, for me,” Rabun said, “it would be best if you remained here. Not; I would prefer not as a prisoner.”

“You might as well not sugar-coat it, sweetheart,” Tony said. “If I’m here for the rest of my life without being able to leave, or have anyone know I’m still alive, that’s a prisoner, whether I’m in chains or not.”

If possible, Rabun looked even more despondent. “I know,” he said. “I wish I… that it had not… it’s worthless, my apologies. But you have it. This is not what I wanted for us.”

“Us?”

Rabun turned his head, eyes squeezing shut, his mouth twisting with pain. “I still love you,” he said.

Tony blinked. His eyes burned and his throat ached. “You never said it.”

“My great shame,” Rabun said, “that I could not say it when you would have believed me.”

“Yeah.”

Rabun sat there a while longer and both of them looked away, not able to meet the other’s gaze. Finally, without a word, Rabun stood up and left the room.

Tony could not miss hearing the door lock behind him.

He waited, until he was certain Rabun would not hear him, and then Tony fell to his knees and mourned.

Years of experience, working hand in hand with spies and assassins, had given Tony more abilities than he’d had when he was a prisoner in Afghanistan. He could pick locks; he could subvert enemy robots, he could redirect the security cameras.

He even managed to find tools and get the damn collar off his neck, which was a relief.

What he couldn’t do, however, was actually leave.

Tony arrived on the surface (because of course Von Doom had thrown him in some basement level type dungeon) and stared, aghast, at what had once been an amazing, if primitive, city.

The city was abandoned; half of it burned to ash; smoke poured out of a few basements, the blaze still going hard underground.

The warehouse that Tony had been in was completely gone. In its place was a sphere filled with what looked like a thunderstorm on fire.

“What the hell?”

“A warm light for all mankind,” Doom said, stepping up next to him.

Tony didn’t allow himself to flinch and Doom didn’t… do anything. He just stood there, staring at the orb.

“What happened?” Because even at the worst possible moment, Tony couldn’t help that cat’s curiosity about him, that need to know, followed up by the need to fix.

Doom stood stiffly, hands clasped behind his back. “The arc-reactor core is melting down, constantly recycling, as more and more heat builds up. It is self-sustaining. Each moment, the force of it grows exponentially. Yesterday, it would have wiped out most of the city and surrounding countryside. Today it will flatten Latveria all the way to its borders and somewhat beyond. By tomorrow, half of Eastern Europe. In a week’s time, it’ll crack the planet down to the core.”

“Holy hell,” Tony choked out.

“Indeed.” Doom might have glanced at Tony; it was hard to tell with the mask that hid Doom’s face from the world. His voice, like Tony’s when he was in the armor, was modulated, emotionless. “Surrounding nations have closed their borders. Doom’s people cannot evacuate to a safe distance.”

“How long can the shield hold?” Tony shuddered. The shield was magical, something Tony rather abhorred, but at the moment he was willing to overlook it in the face of not being liquified immediately. All that Rabun had spoken of, earlier, was a lie. Doom had never intended for Tony to live. Or perhaps Rabun had not known.

“Doom does not have enough data to be certain,” Doom said, “but Doom believes that the force will be too great to withstand within ten days. But Doom is planning to release it this day. The fate of Latveria is trivial, compared to the world. It will be remembered as a great disaster.” He tipped his head in Tony’s direction and said with a certain deadpan humor that Tony didn’t know Doom was capable of, “Perhaps they will even call it Doom’s Day, in the history books.”

Tony couldn’t help but choke out a laugh.

“You let me escape,” he said.

“Yes,” Doom said. “All of Doom’s citizens are as far from here as they can get, with orders to storm the borders, if they must. You will join them. Doom will have no more deaths.”

“And you?”

“Doom will remain here,” Doom said. “Perhaps Doom can shunt the force of the blast. If not, Doom will still not abandon his home.”

Tony stared at the orb, calculating furiously. “What day is it?”

Doom gave him the date and Tony added the moon’s current location to his calculations.

“You have a plan,” Doom observed.

“Yeah. As it happens, I’m not in favor of large holes in the planet,” Tony said. “Conditionally.”

“Name it.”

Tony waited until Doom turned and gave Tony his full attention. “I want Rabun Alil. Let him go. Whatever hold you have on him, whatever he means to you, whatever he does for you. I want him to be free.”

“Doom wishes he could do that,” Doom said, and even with the voice modulator, he sounded sincere. “It is not possible.”

“Why not? He’s one man,” Tony demanded. “We’re talking about your entire nation, millions of people in the surrounding countries. What is he to you that you can’t let him live his own life?”

Doom raised his hands to his mask. He touched two studs at the neck and lifted the iron faceplate free. He turned to face Tony, familiar silver hair spilling into his face, the amber eyes sad. “Because he’s me,” Rabun -- no, Victor fucking Von Doom -- said. “And if I ever meant anything to you at all, Tony, please… help me save my people.”

#tony stark x victor von doom #IronDoom #fic #crackship #the author has regrets #but this is not one of them

24 notes · View notes

newstfionline · 7 years

Text

Puerto Ricans fleeing their hurricane-ravaged island are pouring into the U.S. mainland

Jenny Jarvie, Los Angeles Times, Oct. 10, 2017

When Sinthia Colon’s sister-in-law called from Orlando offering plane tickets to flee Puerto Rico, she did not hesitate. Hurricane Maria had destroyed her small farm, wrecked the local power grid and spurred her town of San Lorenzo to impose a curfew to combat looting.

In a few hours, she was bound for Florida.

“It was, like, all of a sudden … I’m going,” Colon, 42, said shortly after arriving at a disaster relief center at Orlando International Airport with her daughter, son and mother-in-law. “I didn’t have time to make plans.”

Two weeks after the storm devastated Puerto Rico, tens of thousands of hurricane evacuees are packing scheduled flights and charter jets in what officials there and in states across the U.S. fear is the beginning of a mass exodus of historic proportions.

The mainland had already been absorbing record numbers of Puerto Ricans fleeing economic decline and a mounting debt crisis, with more than 700,000 migrating between 2006 and 2015. Some people also moved back over that time, but after decades of population growth, the island saw the total number of residents drop from about 3.8 million to 3.4 million--or more than 10%.

The majority of those who moved were of working age, compounding the economic damage.

Now that cycle is poised to accelerate in a migration that could have profound implications for the rebuilding of the island and for U.S. politics.

“This has no historical precedent for the United States,” said Jesse Keenan, a Harvard professor who specializes in climate adaptation and resilience.

“If just 10% of people leave, it’s going to have a huge impact, both in Puerto Rico and on the mainland,” he said. “If as many as 20% left, which wouldn’t surprise me, it would completely collapse the island’s economy and burden jurisdictions across the United States.”

As U.S. citizens, the evacuees have a legal right to move anywhere in the country. Many are bound for Florida, which is already home to more than a million Puerto Ricans, or nearly a fifth of the 5.4 million living in the 50 states.

Florida Gov. Rick Scott declared a state of emergency in all 67 Florida counties last week and opened three disaster relief centers at Orlando and Miami airports and the Port of Miami.

The Orlando metropolitan area--which already has a decidedly Puerto Rican flavor, with an abundance of restaurants serving mofongo, sofrito and pastelillos--is bracing for as many as 100,000 evacuees. Local officials and volunteers are already scrambling to help thousands of new arrivals find new homes, jobs and schools.

“If we don’t prepare, it is really going to hurt our local economy,” said Emily Bonilla, a Democrat of Puerto Rican descent who was elected last year to the Orange County Commission and is setting up a task force aimed at preventing the influx from driving up rents and depressing wages.

“We knew we were going to grow, and grow fast, but this is speeding the process up exponentially,” she said. “We are not prepared. We do not have the housing. We have to act fast.”

The size of the influx in Florida--and New York, Illinois and Pennsylvania, also home to large numbers of Puerto Ricans--is likely to depend on how fast the recovery is and how well the federal government responds to the disaster.

“Puerto Ricans are very resilient, but give them a few weeks without electricity and they’ll come running,” Bonilla said.

Jorge Duany, a professor of anthropology at Florida International University who left the island five years ago for his career, said that although a mass influx of Puerto Ricans is nearly guaranteed, at least one question is open: “Whether they will stay.”

After filling out paperwork at the relief center to register her 12-year-old daughter in school, apply for assistance from the Federal Emergency Management Agency and launch her job search, Colon said she had no idea how long she would remain in Orlando.

“I never thought of moving here, but here I am,” she said upon leaving the relief center with an emergency food box of canned tuna, pouches of beef tacos and granola bars. “I’ve got all the information I need to get a job. Maybe I will get a house? I’m a quick learner. I think I can do anything.”

After Hurricane Katrina in 2005, more than half of New Orleans’ 480,000 residents moved out. Yet over the years, nearly half of those came back. The city has gradually rebounded to 390,000.

“People seem to have strong ties to New Orleans, despite the fact it was not a thriving city,” said Tatyana Deryugina, an assistant professor of finance at the University of Illinois who studies the economic impact of disasters. “With Puerto Rico, I would expect many of those who leave will want to return. Whether they will depends a lot on how much is rebuilt.”

She said that reconstructing Puerto Rico will be far more complicated than the recovery from Katrina, which cost the federal government about $50 billion--about $100,000 per resident.

A failure in Puerto Rico could have deep political repercussions for Republicans. Puerto Ricans tend to vote Democrat, at least in recent years, and Florida is one of the nation’s tightest swing states.

President Trump won by about 113,000 votes in Florida. Of the 50 million ballots cast by Floridians in the seven presidential elections since 1992, a difference of 18,000 votes separate Republicans and Democrats, said Steve Schale, a Democratic political strategist in Florida who directed Obama’s Florida campaign in 2008.

“In a state where elections are decided by a point, 100,000 potential new voters that lean Democratic--that’s a lot,” he said.

That consideration has been lost on few as political leaders in Florida has pressed the federal government to do more to repair infrastructure, address health issues, provide housing and restore agriculture on the island.

“While we’ll welcome anyone to central Florida, we’re also conscious of the fact that a mass exodus for the island would hurt long-term prosperity efforts there,” said Rep. Darren Soto, a Democrat who is of Puerto Rican descent and whose congressional district includes Orlando. “We want people who want to stay on the island to be able to do so. We just need to get help to them.”

Frustrated by what they view as a slow response by the federal government, many Puerto Ricans in Orlando were focused on shipping supplies to the island and helping the new wave of evacuees.

So many residents dropped off bottles of water, canned food, diapers and medical supplies at a community ballroom space, Acacia’s El Centro Borinqueno, that organizers stopped taking donations last week until they receive new shipping containers.

While visiting the storm-ravaged island last week, Trump told assembled officials, “I hate to tell you, Puerto Rico, but you threw our budget a little out of whack!”

Yet it remains unclear how much his administration is willing to invest in Puerto Rico.

Keenan, the Harvard expert, said that determination comes down to a choice: “The government needs to decide whether it would rather have people move to the mainland or try to have a more distributive recovery there in Puerto Rico.”

#Puerto Rico #Puerto Rican migrants

0 notes