Chapter Text
"Where is she?"
Tony Stark was trying very hard not to reveal how disconcerted he actually was in front of the numerous reporters and television cameras which waited awkwardly in the lobby of Stark Tower.
"Calm down," Pepper Potts whispered back, "It's only ten minutes past. Maybe she had trouble getting past the barricades."
"She shouldn't have had problems getting past the barricades. I gave her a tag which gets her past the barricades!" Tony huffed. "This was a bad idea."
"No. No it wasn't," Pepper insisted. "Like it or not, Tony, she is ahead of you in terms of cybernetic technology. You need her."
"I don't need her!" Tony hissed. "And she's made it very clear she doesn't need me."
Happy Hogan, who had been conversing with a pretty blonde journalist dressed head to toe in a startlingly appalling shade of fuschia, darted over.
"The press is getting anxious," he muttered. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Go stall," Pepper shooed Tony toward the herd of reporters.
"I don't think—"
"Go," Pepper cut him off, giving him a shove in the right direction.
Tony forced a smile and raised his hands. He was not used to being displaced on his own turf. Not even fighting a space god and his army of crustaceans had made him feel this enraged and embarrassed.
Honestly, he thought, Loki was easier to deal with than this woman.
"It, uh, appears Miss Islington is...delayed," he smiled grandly. "In the meantime, make yourselves comfortable, and I can answer any questions you might have."
Twelve minutes away, exactly ten minutes earlier, Dr. Luciana Islington, CEO and reigning supreme matriarch of Nightingale Cybernetic Technologies strode into a Starbucks down the block, dressed in a stunning black gown given to her by her sponsors at Chanel—not yet released even to the runways.
Her assistant, Geoffrey Pickman, scrambled after her.
"Luciana, I am certain Stark will provide coffee," he muttered, his British accent making the words sharp and didactic in the way Luciana liked.
Geoffrey was ex MI6—honorably discharged for exemplary service and PTSD. Luciana had selected him not for his military prowess—and not only because she felt sorry for him—but because she'd felt a strange warmth to her own cheeks and a butterfly sensation in her stomach she hadn't felt in years whenever she looked at him. It made her curious—and Luciana always liked to test things to their fullest.
"Starbucks is an American institution. I am glad to endorse it," Luciana said calmly, as she strode across the lobby, while the other customers recoiled in awe and wonder and a bit of terror.
"That's...Luciana Islington," one woman whispered, awed.
"What's she doing here?"
The starstruck barista stared at her wide-eyed as she took her place at the counter.
"M-may I help you?" he asked his newest customer.
"We don't have time for this." Geoffrey muttered.
Luciana silenced him with a raised finger and bore down on the barista with her supreme aura of authority.
"I would like a flat white. Grande," she said crisply, her own British accent punctuating every command. "Add two pumps of white mocha sauce, substitute milk for breve, and add an extra shot. Geoffrey! What do you want?"
"We're five minutes late," Geoffrey bemoaned.
At these words, the barista winced.
"M-ma'am, it will be a ten-minute wait," he stammered out.
"Really?" Luciana pulled a ten dollar bill out of her purse and smiled sweetly. "I'll give you this if you can push it to a twenty-minute wait."
Thirty minutes later—and by now, forty-five minutes late—Luciana pulled her blue Honda Accord up beside the wide double doors of Stark Tower, and swept from the cab in a flurry of black fabric and high heels.
The press, all hanging onto Tony Stark's every word inside, immediately pivoted to see what all the commotion was about.
Their eyes widened collectively.
"There she is!"
"Luciana! Over here!"
"Miss Islington!"
Luciana smiled indulgently at them as the cameras flashed and the reporters screamed.
Unimpeded, she strode into the lobby, where Stark, Pepper, and Happy all waited somewhat awkwardly.
"You're late," Stark said, trying to break the tension.
"Sorry." Luciana rolled her eyes dramatically. "That line at Starbucks was SUCH a mess. And the traffic in this city—eesh."
"Well..." Stark fidgeted. "I um...got you some coffee. Genuine Italian espresso. But, uh...I see you already have your fix."
"No, no. Please. Far be it from me to refuse a gift," Luciana took the cup he offered her, opened her Starbucks cup, and casually poured the five-hundred-dollar espresso shot on top of her five dollar flat white. Stark stared in open horror. Luciana frowned as she tasted it.
"Your barista doesn't tamp your beans enough. Shot is weak. But it'll do. Thanks."
"That coffee is five hundred dollars a bag," Tony pointed out.
"Sorry to hear that," Luciana shrugged, handing her coffee to Geoffrey. "Shall we begin?"
"Let's," Pepper jumped in, clearly not liking the tension between CEOs. "It's all set up here." She gestured to a podium which had been set up at the other side of the room, where a contract and two silver pens were displayed.
"Wonderful," Luciana said, smiling and waving to the press as she and Tony crossed the room.
The reporters followed like hungry hounds, begging for scraps as they nearly tripped over each other.
This was a contract nearly a decade in the making; a mingling of technologies to create something entirely new. "The Chrysalis Contract" it had been dubbed in a subtle leak from the press in Luciana's corner.
"We are live now in New York City, standing amongst the wreckage of the devastating massacre six months ago," A breathless Fox reporter was saying, "Witnessing the making of technological history. Two opposing companies, coming together for the betterment of mankind. Luciana Islington, the philanthropist and legendary female founder of Nightingale Cybernetics, coming together with the leading pioneer of sustainable energy—Tony Stark. Folks, this is a massive collision of worlds and an incredible moment in history. As we all know, Islington has long refused Stark a contract with her company due to ideological differences..."
"...a moment in history where differences are put aside to forge a new future for mankind, in the ashes of devastation..."
"...and here they are! The two most brilliant minds in the tech industry; Tony Stark and Luciana Islington!"
A round of applause and cheers rang up as Luciana and Stark came onstage. Luciana waved somewhat shyly, while Stark seemed to swell bigger at the attention.
Their assistants, Pepper and Geoffrey, waited offstage left, each silently praying their boss wouldn't be the one to toss the first match into the fire—for both employers were capable of it, and their rivalry was infamous.
Now was definitely not a good time for a careless remark on television.
"Thank you!" Stark announced, pumping his fists triumphantly. "It is a new day for us here; a new era where anything is possible. The blind will see again! The legless will walk! And those without arms will wave again," he added, causing the press to chuckle. Luciana rolled her eyes.
Her prosthetic technology, made into a joke.
How utterly disgusting.
She hadn't started this company in her garage in the nineties in order to turn it into a theatrical spectacle. That had happened by accident—when it became clear that was the only way to make the money she needed to keep building.
No; Luciana wanted nothing more than to change lives. Tony wanted to make it possible to end war; to control it.
Luciana realized war was an unfortunate part of humanity; all that could be done was to make it better for those who came home from it. To give them everything they deserved and more. She could never replace everything they'd lost; but she could give them the start they needed to create something new. To begin again.
The Chanel contracts, the endorsements, the constant dogged attention of the world? That, unfortunately, was how Luciana could afford to keep up her work—and she tried to pay for these vices by giving everything she had into free prosthetics and charity events all over the world. Although, what girl didn't enjoy wearing runway clothing on a day to day basis?
Pushing these thoughts aside, Luciana forced herself to pay attention to Stark's speech. She'd have to speak soon, as soon as Stark finished his masquerade.
"...and after all these years, I am so happy to finally be able to work with this amazing pathfinder," Stark gushed out. "Give it up for Doctor Luciana Islington!"
The crowd went wild, and Luciana made her way to the podium.
"Thank you," she said, smiling warmly. "Today is a very important day for all of us. Not only because of what we will do in the future, but what was done in the past." Luciana twisted her wedding ring nervously. "My husband, Hiroto, passed away exactly twelve years ago to this day, leaving me a single mother with my daughter, Mackenzie. I...I was certain I could never do anything with my life again. I even contemplated suicide, playing with tech in my garage, tinkering, working night shifts in the emergency room."
She swallowed hard, clearing the catch in her throat as her stomach clenched hard. She hated these memories. The Dark Place where she had lived so long.
The press murmured emotionally.
"I...tried medication. It made me worse," Luciana confessed. "The only time I came alive...was in the ER. Even when I lost patients; when there was nothing to be done—something about having someone hold your hand and knowing you were the only one who could save their life was...the closest thing to real life as I could get. The rest of the time, I was sleepwalking. I...I suppose I had a knack for tinkering. I would often be assigned to the prosthetics lab—and people would ask me for help. I...bent the rules a bit, as all pioneers do," she chuckled. "I worked behind the scenes with my patients, learning what worked and what didn't. Until one day, an engineer came and told me he'd seen my designs. He said they were brilliant. Next thing you know..." Luciana made a "poof" gesture with her hands. The press ate it up, whistling and clapping briefly.
"I am not a weapons designer," Luciana continued. "I do not build things which can shake the earth or move mountains or keep us safe. Tony over here is our great watchdog. It's best left to him."
Warm chuckles at this remark, though Tony frowned, clearly catching the insulting subtext Luciana had woven into those words.
"I build because unfortunately, even in a perfect world, things break. People are hurt. Lives are lost," Luciana went on, "I cannot fix their hurt. Not truly. Nobody can. But I can try to help them forge the new lives they deserve. And with the coalescing technology in the Chrysalis Contract—Tony's power sources fused with my new neurotechnology—we can begin a pursuit of rebuilding the world, one brick at a time."
Cheers rang up, but Luciana raised her hands for silence. Geoffrey froze. That was supposed to be the end of the speech. What was she about to do? Why was she going off-script?
"To give you a taste of the new world we are building together, I have prepared a demonstration," Luciana announced.
Tony's jaw dropped, a furrow creased his forehead. Geoffrey went pale. Pepper looked perplexed. This wasn't a part of the presentation.
Luciana reached down into the folds of her dress's waistline, and tugged a hidden cord, twirling. The seams began to split; the dress turning inside out and flaring like a Broadway style quickchange on stage.
The reporters gasped. Tony went still. Pepper and Geoffrey gaped as something rippled and unfurled on Luciana's back.
Wings.
Massive, metal cybernetic bird's wings, inlaid with glowing blue lines tracing the shapes of feathers and sinew.
The same glowing blue filigree was inlaid in the new gown Luciana wore beneath the other one, filling out feathery patterns glowing against the black skirt, falling in surreal layers as they formed a train behind her, and winding up her skull to form a sort of crown of blue metal upon her head.
Luciana went still as the transformation finished—metal wings outstretched over a cybernetic and fabric gown of feathery layers fused with living metal.
The reporters were actually screaming in delight as they snapped pictures and video. Luciana grinned despite herself. It really was intoxicating.
"My daughter loves the Hunger Games," she explained over the din of the crowd. "That's where I got the idea." She tapped the metal lines on her forehead. "These are neuroreceivers. They read my brain activity. I literally command the cybernetic technology in this dress with my mind. It would not be possible without the seamless integration of Stark's energy technology with my own cybernetics; unlimited power, woven into the very fabric of the metal. No need for the burden of a power source."
The crowd cheered.
Stark stumbled forward.
"Y-yes," he stammered. "A very effective demonstration to be sure. This of course, barely scratches the surface of what this collaboration is capable of..." He leaned close to Luciana. "I don't recall sanctioning a demonstration." He whispered.
"You didn't," Luciana whispered back, grinning. "I did."
"You used my tech—and you haven't even signed the contract yet!"
"Please. The contract is purely symbolic. The deal was sealed when we shook hands," Luciana tossed her head. "Shall we sign?"
The two made their way to the podium.
A scratch of the pen, a flick of the wrist, and Tony triumphantly held up the contract, newly signed with silver ink.
The crowd cheered again.
"Here's to history!" Tony declared, as he and Luciana shook hands, pausing to allow the cameras to snap and flash.
As soon as they did, both CEOs yanked their hands away from each other and retreated to opposite corners of the room.
"When," Geoffrey said through gritted teeth, as Luciana seized her coffee and took a swig, "Were you planning to tell me about your 'demonstration?'"
"About right now," Luciana cleared her throat. "Geoffrey; I'm planning a demonstration."
"I'm supposed to be your assistant!" Geoffrey hissed. "You don't even let me drive the car! You literally pay me to hold your coffee and talk to you about the Lord of the Rings!"
"Untrue. You also vacuum my rugs." Luciana sighed. "Look; I have run this company for decades and managed not to run it into the ground yet. I'm not Stark. I don't have daddy's money to keep me afloat. I don't have a family legacy, which means I have to build my own. Which means, unfortunately, a certain amount of theatricality. Stark does it for the attention; I do it so the people keep buying stock. We are not the same."
Geoffrey was silent. Then sighed.
"I know that. I just...you know you could've blown the whole contract with that display?"
"Yes," Luciana admitted. "It was a risk. But I made the call. We lost nothing." She glanced at Tony. "Geoff, do you have the time?"
"Two thirty," He replied, glancing at the smartwatch Luciana had created specifically for him out of a Fitbit. "Why?"
Luciana was about to answer when Stark glided over.
"Miss Islington," he said chivalrously. "Will you join me and my team for refreshments? We have a wonderful bottle of 1811 Château d'Yquem I was saving for a special occasion."
"Wouldn't bother with that one," Luciana said, before she could stop herself. "It was fashionable, not exceptional."
Geoffrey turned to stare at her, while Stark looked visibly taken aback.
"Whoa we...we're talking about a 117,000-dollar bottle of wine," he said. "It was made with grapes harvested under the Great Comet of 1811. How do you know—"
"I am afraid I will have to forgo the party," Luciana cut him off before he could start thinking things he shouldn't. "I have a very important appointment downtown."
Tony Stark looked genuinely crushed at this, before a mask of businesslike stoicism fell across his face.
"I...I see," he said. "Well. I won't keep you then."
With this, he turned coldly on his heel and strode away.
Despite his arrogant attitude, and her dislike for his company principles, Luciana felt a small tinge of guilt she forced herself to choke down.
But she didn't look back.
Because every great mind had skeletons in their closet.
And Luciana?
Well, she had nearly given away her biggest secret of all.