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“Sir.”
Tony looks up from his welding torch, shoving the goggles away from his eyes. “What have you got, J?”
A second’s hesitation, which is enough by JARVIS’ standards to have Tony apprehensive. “A problem, Sir.”
Tony leans back in his chair, rolling slightly with the momentum. Well, that’s no surprise. He’s spent the past month and a half tracking down all organisations and branches of military connected to Stark Industries - or rather, he’s had JARVIS track them down - in his ongoing mission to right the wrongs of his war-mongering past. His main goal since the whole terrible clash with Obie has been to put the last scraps of his violent profiteering to rest, and that involves sifting through everyone who’s ever bought a single gun designed by his hands, evaluating their need for his weapons, analysing the actions made, the ambitions desired by his previous customers. In some cases, mostly private militant groups and a number of organisations Tony likes to think even the old him would never have dealt with if it hadn’t been Obie doing the deals and shaking the hands, it’s a simple enough decision; recall what was sold, reimburse them for their troubles, and sic the most well paid lawyers in America on them if they try to fight it.
In other areas, it’s a great deal more complicated, areas like the army where it’s not as simple as taking back what he made and leaving them to fend for themselves. Some few, like the Air Force where Rhodey not only has a great deal of influence but has spent half of his life fighting for, he leaves alone.
JARVIS has been going periodically through every customer on the extensive list and making evaluations of his own to triage the ones that Tony needs to go over. After some thought Tony had confirmed that he should go through all branches of the Air Force as well, because while Rhodey believes in them and he believes in Rhodey, he knows his best friend’s reach is not infinite.
“What kind of problem?”
“I have tracked a number of Personal Defence Weapons to a Top Secret Air Force facility in Colorado. It claims to be a Deep Space Radar Telemetry unit but all information regarding the outfit is classified.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. JARVIS isn’t one to let a little thing like ‘classified’ stop him. “So de-classify it.”
“I did, Sir.”
Another hesitation. Tony feels his curiosity piqued. “Do you want a drum roll?”
JARVIS doesn’t respond, simply throws up the very secret, very illegally obtained files on the nearest screen. Tony cocks his head towards it and rolls his chair closer. Five minutes of reading and Tony finds himself checking to make sure it’s not April 1st.
“Am I not giving you enough attention, JARVIS? You playing pranks on your old man now?”
“I assure you, Sir, this is all directly from the Air Force database.”
Tony goes back to the files. “Hmm.”
The klaxon is ringing in his ears, accompanied by a rhythmic ‘intruder alert’ as Daniel rushes through the grey corridors of Stargate Command. It’s a testament to just how long he’s spent in this facility that he no longer gets lost, so many levels and hallways all so eerily identical it’s as if they were specifically designed to spin you in circles.
Jack insists it’s simply because the Air Force “has a boner for boring”. Daniel had rolled his eyes at the comment, but secretly he’d agreed.
It’s not the more common alarm warning of an off-world activation, and that more than anything has Daniel on edge. Perhaps he should find some kind of relief in the fact that there isn’t a System Lord currently trying to bash their way through the Iris, but that situation at least is familiar. They’ve never had someone actually break into the mountain from the more Earthly side before. Their security’s too good for that. Which means whoever’s managed to push their way in must be better.
Daniel’s first suspicion is NID. He’s deeply hoping he’s wrong. He’s had about enough of them to last two lifetimes.
He turns the corner and finds a row of airmen stationed in front of the elevator doors, guns raised and at the ready. General Hammond stands behind them, Jack at his side.
It takes a moment for Daniel to register that whatever team has managed to find their way past the SGC’s defences - or blast their way through, and thinking of the friendly corporal who’d waved him through the front gate this morning he sincerely hopes it’s the former option - are now using the elevator. As he reaches Jack’s side and takes in the steady line of guns pointed at the doors, he wonders if he’s missing some kind of tactical psych out tactic the enemy has employed, or if they simply made it this far on sheer dumb luck.
Jack gives him the side-eye, his own gun held steady in his hands. “Daniel.”
Daniel gives him the side-eye right back. “Jack.”
“Any reason you’ve volunteered yourself for the first line of defence?”
Years of experience has Daniel recognising the reproach for what it is, and years of experience has him waving it off with ease. “We might be able to negotiate.”
Jack doesn’t even try to hide the full bodied sigh at that response. “You might get your head blown off.”
Daniel shrugs. “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
The elevator dings, the sound obnoxiously bright and cheery in the circumstances, and Jack’s eyes flit back, laser focused. The gun in his hands is raised and Daniel notices with a mix of appreciation and irritation that he steps forward and to the right slightly, putting himself in Daniel’s line of fire.
The room holds their breath, then the doors open, and -
“Iron Man?” one of the men in front whispers with something that sounds embarrassingly like awe. Jack’s eyes narrow and Daniel’s mouth drops open.
The red and gold suit steps forward once, twice, and raises its hands in a peaceful gesture. “Hey. I heard you were having a party.”
It certainly sounds like Stark’s voice, modulated as it is through the suit’s speakers. General Hammond recovers first, demanding “reveal yourself immediately.”
Surprisingly, he does. First the faceplate flips up, showing Tony Stark’s handsome face and iconic facial hair, before the rest of the suit opens. Daniel watches with wide eyes as the panels fold back on themselves and Stark steps out smoothly in a suit that even from this distance he can tell costs more than a month’s rent. “Mister Stark,” Hammond says warily. “This is a top secret facility and upon breaking in you have violated - “
“Yes, yes, I know, big trouble,” says Stark with a flippant wave of his hand. “Feel free to arrest me. I’m sure the media will just love to get my statement on why the Air Force are throwing me in a cell.”
“Is that a threat, Stark?” Jack asks, unamused. Unlike some of the greener men in the room, he’s clearly far from awestruck of the celebrity - and superhero - who’s just crashed his way into Cheyenne Mountain.
“I’m actually hoping we can avoid all the threatening and grand-standing,” he replies. “I’m not here to fight.” He grimaces, just a hint apologetic, and gestures to the suit standing behind him as he says “uh, despite appearances.”
“It’s generally considered polite to call ahead before dropping in,” Jack says, dry as the Sahara.
Tony throws a shiny white smile at him, all charm and boyish innocence. “Have I ever been known to be polite?”
“What is it exactly you want, Mr Stark?” asks Hammond with a deep wariness.
Tony turns his eyes to the General, and for the first time he looks serious as he responds, “to talk, General. How about we start there?”
Mr-Stark-Call-Me-Tony stands by the windows of the briefing room, looking out over the Stargate below with what Daniel assumes is intent fascination. SG-1 sit stiffly at the table with Hammond at the end, watching the billionaire closely. “How is it that you found out about our operation, Mr Stark?”
Tony replies without looking away from the giant ring, something like dry amusement in his tone. “I’m not just famous for my dashing good looks, General. Your firewalls are impressive, by Air Force standards, but they’re hardly a match against me. Don’t feel too bad, no one’s is.”
“So you thought you’d just drop by for a visit?” asks Jack. He’s clearly unimpressed with the man, from his confident swagger to his effortless charm and apparent arrogance. Daniel himself is hardly star-struck; logically he knows the man’s famous, and even he absorbs enough news to know about the violent battle between him and the other unknown pilot that occurred in New York about two months ago. But his job is to study people, and he’s been studying Stark since the moment the faceplate lifted. The confidence the man exudes covers the uncertainty in his eyes. The million dollar smile takes away from the slight tremble in his hands. The flippant jokes distract from the tight lines on his face.
So, Daniel’s reserving judgement. At least until he knows why Stark is here.
“Sure,” Stark responds, finally turning to face them. His hands move to his pockets and he rocks back slightly on his heels. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve been shaking things up a little back at SI. Re-evaluating our priorities. I’ve been investigating everyone who’s ever bought so much as a bullet from me, and wasn’t I just full of questions when I came across you.”
Daniel sees Jack glance almost guiltily down at the handgun attached to his hip from the corner of his eye, and Sam doing the same across the table. He’s never personally paid much attention to the gun he uses, prefers to know as little about it as possible, in fact, but he’s seen the Stark logo around base enough times. More than that, he remembers the rant Jack had gone on after Stark had announced the complete retraction of weapons manufacturing. He’d stomped around Daniel’s office the whole time, gesticulating wildly and shouting about unreliability and leaving good men and women in the dust without a way to defend themselves. As if Daniel understood or sympathised at all about the importance of killing machines sold for a profit.
To be fair, Jack had ended his rant with a grudging admission of respect for the man’s apparent new values, and a wince of sympathy for what he must have gone through in those three months of absence. There had been an understanding in Jack’s eyes as he quietly admitted Stark had probably been tortured that Daniel hadn’t stopped seeing behind his eyelids for days afterwards.
“You could have gone through the proper channels,” Hammond reprimands. It’s that tone of disappointment that has managed to make even Jack shuffle guiltily in the past, and Daniel’s gratified to see that the great Tony Stark isn’t entirely immune, but the grimace is wiped from his face as quickly as it comes. “And would I have ever gotten clearance?”
“Probably not,” says Jack unapologetically. “Someone of your... status is a little too public for our liking.”
“Oh come on, Colonel,” says Tony with another of those ‘look how much I don’t care’ grins. “We both know it’s not my celebrity you disapprove of.”
Jack doesn’t argue the point.
“What is it exactly you want from us, Mr Stark?” asks Sam. She and Teal’c have remained silent up until now; Teal’c clearly doesn’t understand or care who this man is, and appears to be happy to leave this issue to his human friends. Sam has been quietly observing and absorbing the situation, but Daniel would bet money that he saw something like excitement show on her face when she first discovered just who had broken into the SGC with all the grace of a rhino. “Are you here to reclaim the weapons you sold to us?”
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure when I first found out,” says Tony. He regards Sam seriously, and, Daniel is gratified to see, with no small amount of respect. “I needed to see for myself, to understand what exactly it is you do here, what you’re... fighting against.”
“Our enemy is most malicious and powerful,” Teal’c speaks for the first time, his words heavy and serious. “They are a threat not only to us but to your entire world.”
“Yeah. I got that.” All amusement has dropped from Stark’s face, the carefree attitude gone to show the stance of someone serious and, perhaps, just a little bit scared. “I’ve read all about those alien slugs. I realise they’re no small threat.” The corner of his mouth ticks up, just a bit. “And I read all about you, Big Guy. I would love to pick your brain some time.”
Teal’c raises one unimpressed eyebrow. “I must decline such an unpleasant experience.” Stark’s face lights up at his deadpan response.
“Mr Stark,” says Hammond, attempting to get them back on track. "If you’re not here to reclaim your weapons, why are you here?”
A moment longer of looking at Teal’c before he turns back to the General, serious again. “I’m here to learn, General. That’s my main goal here. I want to understand what exactly it is the world is up against. I want to study what you’ve already discovered.” He glances behind his shoulder, back into the Gate Room. “I would love to do some further study on how that works.”
“I could walk you through that,” Sam pipes up, then immediately looks at Hammond apologetically. “If, uh, you’re approved, that is.”
“It’s Carter, right?” Tony asks, looks at the pins on her shoulders, then at her. “Major Carter? I can tell you probably the only part of this whole thing that wasn’t a surprise was that you were involved. I’ve read your work on astrophysics, Major. You have a beautiful brain.” He says it with a salacious wink, but before Jack and Daniel can do so much as tense, he continues “honestly, if they hadn’t already recruited you I’d be making some phone calls right about now.”
Sam stares at him, clearly a little awe-struck and trying to hide it. “Th... thank you, Mr Stark. I’m familiar with your work as well. Your research articles on quantum mechanics has actually helped me a number of times while working on the Stargate program.
Tony grins, but it’s smaller and softer than the ones he’s thrown at them up until now. He actually looks a little proud when he says “glad I could be of assistance, Major.”
“So, that’s it?” asks Jack. He seems to have been slightly mollified by Stark’s genuine respect for Sam, but there’s still suspicion in his eyes and his voice. “You just want to learn? Do a book report?”
“Not just learn, Colonel,” is Tony’s quiet response. He looks at each of them in turn, putting the intended weight behind his words when he continues.
“I want to help.”