Archive Log 512 - Dec. 21 2016
T+ 4783 Days since CSE
RECORDING...
Damn, really been that long, huh? Well, I'll try to keep this brief- hey, Dum-E, quit that!
Sorry, Dum-E's messing with the arc reactor again. It's been acting up recently. Of course, if future me actually reads these, you'll know that. Asshole.
Being here has really given me a chance to reflect - reflect on myself, I suppose. I mean, I was a real ass. People must have hated me.
To be fair, I don't really remember... people. No idea how I've stayed sane for so long. I don't think I was sane back then, either. That'd explain a lot.
God damn it- Dum-E, get the hell away from that thing, you could hurt someone-
[END OF RECORDING]
New recording location detected. Recalibrating...
Archive Log 513 - Dec. 22 2016
T+ 4784 Days since CSE
RECORDING...
Stupid Dum-E, stupid logs, stupid- Oh, hey there.
Sorry bout that, I've had to evacuate from my previous base of operations since fucking Dum-E blew it up. The old control panel was already being covered in frost by the time I lugged Dum-E on board. Surprised my old cars were still working. I don't remember the last time I turned them on.
The wonder of electric cars, I suppose.
I've moved over to a Dum-E-proof source of electricity; the sky. Not even close to as reliable as the arc reactor at my house, but when Dum-E destroyed the casing that went caput. I had to abandon my old hazard suits; too much to carry. That sucked.
Uh, I've only just realized that Christmas is coming up. I mean, the weather never changes enough to tell what season it is anymore, but this computer is quite good at tracking the date and time. I'll have to look through these one day.
God, Christmas. It makes me think every year what things would be like if this hadn't happened. If my fucking security guards had been faster-
No, that's not fair. Self reflection, stark. Self reflection.
In truth, my security guards probably couldn't have done anything either. Who the fuck could have expected aliens - actual fucking aliens - to drop down on new york. Shortest war in history, according to the tabloids. Some places, mostly western and central Europe, continued fighting after the US dropped out. The UK tried nukes. Germany tried to talk peace - peace for god's sake. Since those attempts to stop the aliens, there has been radio silence.
Just like that, all across a fucking continent, radio silence. After that, individual countries dropped out. Russia first, then China, India, and even Australia. Nobody knows whether... God, whether they are all dead or just cut off from communication.
Anyways, they all left after they realized that the sun wasn't coming back. Their summer holiday home was now a winter wonderland. Globally. I don't think there's been a single day in the past few months that it's not snowed. Now, New York snow could get pretty bad in the past - think a couple of inches, maybe a foot at most. Now? A solid two, three feet here. When it started, I traveled - what else was there to do? We don't have the tech required to reverse this, and we don't have the minds to either. All over America, then Canada. Fucking. Nobody.
I settled down back home - where I was literally yesterday - about a year after I figured out that, hey, there was nobody to search for. I had better chances searching the streets of New York without my heart monitor of finding somebody than wandering around.
Nothing to do since then.
I left an emergency signal running not long ago - just a few years or so. Nobody's received it - or, at least, my detection system hasn't seen anybody receiving it. I have no way to test it in a way that would matter.
Passing the time is easy, really. A year and a bit after this started I developed a piece of paralyzing tech - yeah, dangerous stuff to test on yourself. All I have to do is place it on my forehead, like so, and press this little button and...
[Recording has exceeded 10 hour maximum. Ending]
[END OF RECORDING]
Archive Log 514 - Feb. 13 2017
T+ 4837 Days since CSE
RECORDING...
Aaand, that's how it works. Knocks me out, connects me to these weird-ass tubes and I'm free to go. Because hell if I'm dying.
I mean, look at it this way; I survived something that, presumably, killed literally everybody else. Everybody. God clearly loves me, and what kind of repayment would pulling the trigger on myself be? I mean, I only really survived because of being in the right place at the right time; my new - old? - nuclear bunker, November 17th 2003. God, I've got that date everywhere. Seriously, if I'd programmed a recording function into this thing I could show you. I need to remember it, or I'll lose track of time. Even though this thing remembers for me, it's not foolproof. I've gotta check. I've gotta.
I skipped quite a while this time. Usually I do exactly one month chunks, but I felt that it'd make more sense to show you the power of this fucking thing - made it from spare parts.
Really, it can safely put me to sleep for about a year, give or take a month. Then I'd have to replace the nutrient paste, replace the tubing, yadda yadda. Boring stuff for boring people. I've not tested it that long yet. I could miss out on contact, the world suddenly going back to normal, anything!
Stupid to hope for, but oh well. Gotta have hope for something these days. Anything.
Jesus Christ in heaven above, this is useless. I can't die, I can't live. A fucking paradox. Hell, if there was anybody out there they'd've responded years back. Years.
I'm completely alone out here.
How the fuck did that happen.
[END OF RECORDING]
Archive Log 515 - Feb. 14 2017
T+ 4838 Days since CSE
RECORDING...
We're actually coming up on the last programmed date on the system. I didn't think that either I, or this.. situation, would last this long. I set this program to last 5000 days - nice, round number. I thought I'd've either knocked myself off or figured out a way to end this. After it ends, this system will become useless. All hard-coded, et cetera, et cetera. I mean, I can turn off the day counter but that'd break the date, and then I'd lose track myself. Human error.
God.
Maybe I should consider religion - something to help out a little. Somebody else in this GOD FORSAKEN WASTELAND.
I went out after yesterday. Home-made suit of what's basically ballistic armor against snow. Nothing can get through this stuff. Not as good as my old, fabricated stuff but... Oh well. Can't change the past, I suppose.
I'm gonna put myself to sleep again after this - gonna test the limits. I've sort of accepted that there's nothing that could possibly happen in a year that wouldn't have happened anyway. I'm gonna do an entire year. See how that goes, take it from there. Maybe end it after that.
Yeah. If nobody has contacted me, or received my messages, in a year, I'll just finish the alien's jobs. Goodbye humanity, goodbye world. One year.
On a slightly less depressing note, I've realized that this new location - nothing special really, just that bunker I was talking about earlier, actually has some decorations in it. I was using it as storage, I guess. I didn't even realize. Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthday.
Not that I'll use them, though. Maybe I'll confuse somebody, if there is anybody to confuse, and put up Christmas AND Halloween decorations. Because fuck you, future people. Fuck. You.
Call me.
Uh, depressing note again. I should do a sort of... leaving message, I suppose. Just a second.
I am Tony Stark, born 29th of May, 1970.
I am a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and genius ahead of my time.
Uh, if you've found this then I was wrong. About most things, apparently.
So fuck you for not messaging back.
Fuck you for not going through every single log since I started. Yeah, I expect you to read the hours of just fucking talking I have on here.
All of the episodes of Mr. Stark's fun adventure.
God damn it I should have included a voice recording feature, rather than a... Speech to text machine? Suppose this makes it easier for any deaf people out there. If you're blind you're screwed though.
Maybe I am losing it.
Uh, goodbye I guess. Life's been... Fun? Cool?
I guess neither of those.
[END OF RECORDING]
[Ping Received]
[Jan. 10 2018]
>> [YOU HAVE one NEW MESSAGE(s)]
>> [YOU HAVE one NEW MESSAGE(s)]
>> [YOU HAVE one NEW MESSAGE(s)]
>> [YOU HAVE one NEW MESSAGE(s)]
>> [YOU HAVE one NEW MESSAGE(s)]
>> [YOU HAVE two NEW MESSAGE(s)]
>> [YOU HAVE three NEW MESSAGE(s)]
>> open MSG01
>> PSWD:
>>
>> Password Accepted. Opening Message 01.
VIDEO MESSAGE
A boy - about 15 or 16 years old - sits in the center of the camera's frame. The computer he uses appears to be sat on a desk strewn with various papers, pens, and other pieces of trash. He is disheveled; dirty, unwashed brunet hair and dark eyebags. He has a thick scar across his face that looks quite old. He looks elated, staring at the camera in shock.
In the background, there are posters across his walls of various pieces of 2003 media - bands, movies, you name it. To his side there is a metal bunk bed with a thick blanket on top of it. Everything is covered in a thin layer of frost, apart from the desk that seems to have some sort of home-made heater sitting just behind the boy's chair.
Suddenly, after a few seconds of silence, he speaks. "Uh, hi! I- I didn't expect that to actually work," He looks over at a second monitor, reading something, "Uh, yeah, Mister Stark, I'm sorry to tell you this but you've had a password on your radio for the last few years that I've been getting your broadcast. Like, good job on the security but I'm pretty sure you are meant to turn that off if you want a response..."
He chuckles to himself for a second quietly, before grabbing something from off camera - a cage of some sort. "Oh yeah, also I'm not the only life here! Meet Pickle." He reaches into the cage and pulls out a small, clean mouse. "Pickle here has been living with me for the past few months. I originally had a huge colony going but... Well, I couldn't bring it with me when my house's electricity went off. I brought Pickle though! We're in some weird shop that sold sandwiches, but at least it has a functional electricity supply. I just had to get the generator to work... That sucked. But, if you respond quickly, we might actually be able to meet! See, I've been alone quite a while and, if you weren't lying in your emergency message, you have been too. Well, surprise! There's... at least one person alive. I can't believe it either. I mean, you might not be, but uh... If you are, that'd be great."
Taking a second to calm himself, the boy looks away and puts Pickle back into his cage. "Uh... Oh yeah, also, I've been working on some super interesting stuff. Nothing else to do, really. I think I've created one of the most efficient energy sources. Ever. Might explode if I turn it on, though, so I've waited until somebody else contacted me. Which you have! So, message back as quickly as you can or... Well, I guess you're wanting to talk with somebody as well. So hurry!"
[MESSAGE END]
Tony Stark's first thought upon watching the message was 'What the actual fuck'. He had been asleep for just over a year - a year and three days to be exact, and he'd missed the first contact with another human being, which just so happened to be... this. Some... mad-man's rambling. Fuel sources, a fucking pet rat named Pickle? Who keeps a rat as a pet? AND WHO CALLS IT PICKLE?
'God,' he thought 'why the hell did you leave me here with a fucking child?'
He settled into his chair, spinning towards the screen.
>> [YOU HAVE two NEW MESSAGE(s)]
>> open MSG02
>> PSWD:
>>
>> Password Accepted. Opening Message 02.
VIDEO MESSAGE
The boy was back, this time looking a bit less excited. It had clearly been a while since the last message; his hair was somehow messier and much longer, his skin generally seemed more dirty, and he had a large burn across the length of his face. On the upside, Tony noted, his desk was much tidier. And half of it was missing.
"Hi. Hi, again. I- Uh- I. Sorry. The fuel source, that one I talked about last time, it exploded. Badly. Pickles is OK, he's just over here, just a second..." he leans off frame again, bringing a slightly larger mouse with singed fur. It scrambles away from the boy's hand - biting, squealing, clawing. "Shit- Sorry. I'll put you back." placing Pickle in the cage, he relaxes into his seat.
"So yeah. Uh, since you didn't respond a few weeks back I've decided to spam you with messages if that's ok. I mean, if you are there you'll respond saying it's not ok, but... OK."
He sits still for a second.
"I really hope you're out there." Again, silence, "I'm going on a sort of... expedition soon. Heading to find some food, some people... Anything. There is some wildlife, I'm sure. I mean, Pickle survived so I'm sure there are others. Who knows, the police station probably has some guns or whatever, so I'll just head over there, grab one, and go... Hunting. Yeah, hunting."
Shifting uncomfortably, he looks down at his lap, then back up at the camera. One of his eyes seems to be welling up with tears, the other one with the scar through it stays blank.
He stands up, looking around. "There's not a lot... here... for me. I mean, my parents died a few years back - did it themselves. Decided I was old enough, I guess. Stupid..." he wipes his face and takes a second to calm himself, "I mean, I don't blame them. I would have done the same if I was older. God, when I saw them outside... They were frozen solid." He chuckles, before dissolving into hysterical laughter. "F- Frozen. Like the rest, I suppose." slowly he falls silent, leaving a depressing calm in his wake.
"So yeah. Hunting. Food gathering, et cetera."
He stays still from then, just staring at his lap.
"Uh. See you later, maybe. Hope you're still out there."
[MESSAGE END]
Jesus Christ above, this kid was more fucked up than Tony was.
One more message now. Dated to yesterday. Mid-afternoon. Jesus fucking Christ.
To be completely honest, Tony didn't quite know just how much of watching this kid he could do. He was never the sort of 'look after kids' guy, more the 'go out with as many chicks at the next Stark Industries meeting and hope not to make any kids' guy, so it's safe to say that this... was a new feeling.
And not one that was easy to pinpoint.
It was negative - he knew that. Some sort of... fear, maybe? Yeah, that must be it. Tony Stark was only human - Tony Stark felt fear. Just like everyone else.
>> [YOU HAVE one NEW MESSAGE(s)]
>> open MSG03
>> PSWD:
>>
>> Password Accepted. Opening Message 03
SPEECH-TO-TEXT MESSAGE
Sorry, no video this time.
Power's low, generator's destroyed. I've lost Pickle somewhere.
Heater's off, no power.
Please be out there.
It's so cold.
[MESSAGE END]
Well that was short.
Ok, plan.
Plan. Yes. Tony Stark, billionaire philanthropist, needs a plan.
Yes. Plan. Ok. Plan- wait, never mind. That won't work.
Save the kid. Steps in-between? They don't matter.
>> sys traceback msg01 admin
>> TRACING...
>> TRACE COMPLETE. Return Location
>> 20 Ingram Street - Queens - New York City - USA - NA
>> retrace
>> Ben Parker/May Parker's residence - 20 Ingram St. - Queens - NYC - USA - NA
>> exit
>> EXITING...
Tony sat in silence. The location of, presumably, the only other person still alive - almost next door this entire time.
Now, Ben and May parker. Not really... fitting names for the kid. Something just twinged inside him that screamed 'wrong'. Something... God, Tony didn't even know. Not the time to speculate.
So, put on the temperature armor stuff, head to the address, give the kid the armor, let him go to the bunker, die, the end.
Wait, not that last part.
Ok. Put on the armor, head to the old base, grab old armor, go to the kid's address, give the kid spare armor, go to the bunker together, live.
That sounds better.
And so it was. Tony began preparing "Unknown child rescue mission Alpha" on January 10th, 2018. He finished preparations January 11th 2018. He left on January 12th 2018.
It had been approximately 12 years since Tony had stepped foot outside of his shelter, minus moving, so it was a shock to see how New York had fallen.
Snow fell peacefully across the decaying landscape - buildings cried as rubble fell, as if Tony's very presence disturbed the environment around him. Tall skyscrapers towered around him, uncanny in appearance. Windows smashed and frosted, their roofs overflowing with ice. Cars, as if still alive, dutifully lay in wait, snow making them almost unrecognizable. Even the lights above sat silent. Trees and vegetation, somehow surviving against the odds, intertwined themselves with the human structures, strengthening both. All of it - the cars, the trees, the buildings - was covered in a thick frost.
As he trudged through the snow ('must be at least a few feet thick', thought Tony) he thought dully. How many people died because the sky decided to fall?
The entire world had this eerie lack of any noise now. Before, when Tony had been out here, he had reason - determination - to drive him onwards. Now, he was running on a dream that maybe, just maybe, that kid will still be alive.
Maybe.
The silence pervaded everything - from his footsteps in the snow to the sickening crunch of his boot when he stepped on-
Tony had to muffle a scream as he looked into the blue face and eyes of a woman - only in her mid-twenties - long dead, preserved in time by the cold. He turned around and threw up into the snow. Fucking disgusting.
He stumbled backwards and, in an attempt to catch himself, he grabbed ahold of the only thing he could in the vicinity - a stone-cold statue of... some random guy, his face contorted into a scream. Jesus. Christ. Disturbing.
...He moved forwards.
----
It had been... How long? Tony didn't even feel the cold as he entered his old home. Surprisingly, it responded to his presense; his activation panels that covered the walls activated, snow shook off of the roof, hell - even his speakers started working (not that there was anybody there to speak through them anymore. The living room was trashed, couch ripped open. Table knocked to the side. Hell, even his wine - frozen as it was - was there, knocked over. His window was intact, lamps flickering, fireplace sparking. Shit. This place still had electricity.
He almost laughed - covered his mouth to stop it. It didn't work. This shitty place still had electricity, by some miracle of god. Maybe one of his backups started working after he left, maybe the arc reactor wasn't so damaged, maybe only a few rooms were knocked out? This changes everything!
Racing through the house, he grabs his stuff. He has GOT to show pe-
What?
The kid. He is "the kid".
So where the hell did he get the first part of a name?
Shit. Doesn't matter. He leaves the house and starts running. Running towards the city. Running towards the kid. Running towards the only remaining life on earth, minus Tony.
He arrives at the city faster than he made it to the down, despite the extra weight of an entire extra suit. Hell, he even makes it to the kid's block in no time.
Finally, after years, Tony made it to his house. Base? God, whatever kids called it before all of this started.
He ran forwards... almost directly into the locked door. Skidding to a stop, he instead opts to start kicking the handle.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Crash.
Bingo.
Finally, the door crashed down. He raced up - higher, and higher. Up, past apartment after apartment. Up, through each layer of hell and torment.
Up, until he reached a door that he knew all too well.
The number 20, plated in a silver paint.
He hesitated for a moment, looking around, paranoid.
How the hell did he know this door? This apartment block? Why did he not even consider looking around other apartments? What the hell is going on?
Fuck, he's been alone so long.
He kicks down this door as well, with a bit of effort.
The apartment is deafeningly silent.
Everything is just as it was on video; caked in snow and frost. On the far end, in front of a window, a desk covered in papers and a computer with two monitors. Who even needs two monitors?
Something was off. Something - and he couldn't quite place what - was... off. He looked around, straining his ears. Completely silent. Everything. Silent. Dust covered everything, untouched by the fridgidness all around him. In this place, even Tony himself was... warm? It had been a while, but he guessed the pins and needles were just warmth. Warmth.
Suddenly, the world tilted on its side - not in a metaphorical sense. Snow, dust, and frost fell to the side, piling up in a corner. Tony had to jump to steady himself, not that that stopped him from falling through the paper-thin walls and hurtling into the air. The air was burning, the floor below (to his side?) cracked and spilled out to the sky. All around him, Tony could see... cracks. Cracks in time, cracks in space. Looking through them, he could see himself. Sitting down in a chair, wires surrounding him, pulling him up like a puppet.
It all stopped in an instant.
"Jesus christ, we thought you were a goner there. Parker, grab a disinfectant wipe."
Tony's eyes blinked open, sluggish. Everything was blurry and bright. Warm. In his arms, some... soft material; fabric or something.
A sweater, red.
"Mr Stark. Mr Stark, are you with us?"
A pain stabbed through the back of his neck and he reached up to press on it, hands being slapped down.
"No, sorry man. You can't touch it. That's just where the port was, it's gone now. Tony, are you there?"
Fuck. He had a headache so fucking bad right now.
"Shit, he's not responding-"
Shut up dude.
"...Ok, he is responding. Mr Stark, can you hear me? My name is Andrew Mealey, Doctor Mealey. You were just under for a couple of minutes there. Do you remember where you are?"
Shit. He didn't mean to say that out loud.
His voice ripped out of his dry throat, "A couple of minutes?"
"Yes sir. Do you remember why you are here?"
Fucking asshole. Andrew Asshole. Hah. "Gotta find the kid... He's here..."
"You mean Peter? Peter Parker?"
That's his name. Peter. Peter the annoying, genius child. Mini Stark. "Yeah. Peter. Where is Peter?"
"He's just over here Mr Stark. Hold on, he left the room while you were being uploaded. I'll call him in".
The world was becoming clearer now. He was sat in a cushioned, white chair, neck strapped to the back with some sort of neck brace. In front of him, a doctor. Tanned, young, male. Short-ish hair. Blue medical gloves. Sort of attractive.
"Mister Stark? Mister Stark!" across the room, coming through a door, a teenage kid. Tech kid. Peter. He dashed across the room, barrelling directly into the chair and engulfing him in a hug.
"Peter. Fuck, Pete," he gasped, trying to push him away, but his arms were to weak. Not that it mattered, as he let go as soon as he heard his name. "Peter. You're OK?"
"Yeah Mister Stark. I saw you like five minutes ago. Why're you acting like this?"
"Fuck, you're one to talk. Came in like you hadn't seen me in years."
"Ok, that's enough. He has a slight memory block, we just have to jumpstart that." Bummer. The doctor was back, Doctor Meals or something like that. Memory block, Tony Stark? No. He just had a slight... issue grasping why he was in a hospital room, attatched to a chair. Yeah. That's it.
"Mr Stark, you came here to upload your mind to a secure backup server, along with Peter Parker and May Parker. There was a slight issue with your upload - nothing big, just a power surge. You might have been disturbed during it, felt like an hour or something, right?"
Tony blinked slowly. A few hours? Hours? He lived every single one of those years - I mean, he didn't remember EVERY SINGLE one of them, of course, just... Well, to be honest, the only stuff he remembers clearly is the last few hours. Nothing of the journey to his house, nothing about him waking... Shit.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Hopefully, with your funding, the risks of that will be reduced. At least it's not too bad, right? I mean, an inconvenience for you, I'm sure, but it's not real. Just a few minutes for the data to be uploaded. And, what's best? You can just get up and leave. I have to undo the neck brace, but after that... you're free to go! Or you can stay, have an exam, but it won't show anything. You can move, speak, see... I see nothing wrong. Oh, your neck will heal in a few days. It'll just scab over, maybe leave a small scar - invisible, of course."
"Of course. Invisible.
Invisible.