A twelve step to omnipotent (mcu fanfiction)

I waited patiently until Pepper Potts and her escort of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents entered the Stark facility, biding my time in the shadow cast by the buildings on the other side of the compound. I could try and sneak in after them, but it would be far easier to just wait for Stane to provide a distraction and then simply walk in, no sneaking required. BOOOMM! And that is my queue. Thanks Stane, I owe you one. Well, not really since a: you're an evil, terrorist funding, bastard and b: you'll be dead by the time I get what I came here for. As the building is lit up by bright flashes and the stacatto blasts of gunfire, I simply walk inside and make my way deeper into the complex where Stane is walking around in the twisted love child of the Iron Man armor and a tank, squashing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents left and right. The ridiculously high turnover rate of agents (not to mention them being a shell for the most evil human organization in history) had kept me from entering the spy agency in order to get my grubby hands on all of their fancy toys in my quest for godhood. Because when you find yourself in a fictional universe with gods and monsters and aliens, you could either try and become buddies with the heroes (in the case of females this required you to be both ridiculously pretty as well as emotionally connected to at least one of them or in the case of men, you were ridiculously badass with about every superheroine salivating over your body) or you could realize that magic was real and decide to supplex reality in being your little b***h. Within the first ten minutes of being born in this world I decided on the latter. And the first step in my Twelve Step Program (more like Twenty Steps but who was keeping count anyway) involved salvaging whatever I could from Stane's reverse engineering of Tony Stark's masterpiece. Of course his true masterpiece, the Arc Reactor, was out of my reach until I was powerful enough to rip it out of his chest with my bare hands, but in the meantime I could at least try and take his armor for myself. Or just wait until Whiplash manages to make an Arc Reactor on his own. Better make that Twenty-one Steps then. During my musings Stane had been ever so kind to keep the spotlight on him, allowing me to enter the hangar where he first activated the Iron Monger unchallenged, with the exception of the odd dead agent I had to watch out not to trip over. That'd just be embarrassing. Once in the hangar I immediately began tearing every single blueprint off the walls and tables leaving nothing behind, stuffing it all in my oversized duffelbag. I could sort this all out in the safety of my apartment without a spy agency and one of the smartest and dangerous men in the world breathing down my neck. Despite the fact that I knew nobody was in a position to stop me from stealing the plans to the most advanced armor in the world, on the account of nobody knowing I was here or even existed for that matter, too focused as they were on the metallic slugfest between Stane and Tony judging by the familiar whine of repulsor blasts, I still felt sweat pouring down my neck, soaking my shirt, making it cling to my chest in the most uncomfortable way. I felt like I was in the most dangerous fight of my life despite the fact that all I was doing was walking around stuffing paper in a duffelbag. After what felt like hours of running around with my heart trying its best to hammer its way to freedom straight through my ribcage I had finally managed to rip the last blueprint (a giant poster with what at a glance seemed to be the overall outline of the Iron Man/Monger armor on it) off the wall, trying my best to ignore the smoking hole in the metal right next to me. I knew that I had to hurry up now as I could hear the fight getting closer again, which meant an increase of threat against my continued good health, either by massive explosions or overeager spies who might be Nazi's in disguise. As I made my way to the exit of the building I had the biggest scare of my life when from the roof of the building came a crash that shook the entire structure. Worse than that however was the sound of someone shouting orders ahead from me, with what seemed like a dozen footsteps running towards me in an orderly yet hurried fashion. Resolving to look at my loot first thing in the morning I switched off the lights and immediately I was dead to the world. Stark is a genius. Let me rephrase that: Stark is a f*****g genius. I mean, I knew he was, everybody both here and in my old world knew he was. But to actually look at his work, botched by Stane as it was, actually drove home just how much smarter the Merchant of Death was than me. If it wasn't for Stane having to dumb most of it down for himself and the scientists on his payroll I probably wouldn't even know what I was looking at. As it stood, while I had a decent understanding of how the armor worked (operating under its own weight without crushing the wearer, or how inertia dampeners allowed Tony to be punched through a wall with only a bruise to show for it, that kinda thing) the Arc Reactor was completely beyond me. I sorta got the theory behind it, but I had absolutely no clue how to go and actually build the damn thing, especially small enough for it to be carried. Sorry Ivan, but it seems I'm gonna have to take your stuff. Filing the armor away for now (and I do mean file. With all the supernerds in this universe there's no way in hell I'm digitizing any of this. For now the plans go behind a false plank underneath my sink) I start trawling through the internet trying to get my hands on as many news outlets as possible and visiting every forum there is. With my meta knowledge separating hoax from truth is a walk in the park and I'm hoping that somewhere among the rumors and speculations I can find clues for my master plan of Galactic Domination. You know, I really feel like an evil laugh would be appropriate there but the walls of my apartment are thin and I can do without any noise complaints. Ah well, I'll just do them later once I have a proper lair. Suddenly a news article grabbed my attention with all the subtlety of Thor trying to put IKEA furniture together using Mjolnir. 'Soda factory in Rio shut down due to massive structural damage , witnesses claim to have heard gunfire and have even claimed to have seen a monster. Neither the authorities nor the executives of the company were available for comment.' I smirked as I read the short article, skimming over the fact that some employees had apparently been injured in what was being presented as a work related accident. I knew better. "Hello Bruce." I said softly with a grin that would make many a sailor break out in cold sweat and mutter something about needing a bigger boat. Unfortunately I couldn't act on this yet as it was part of Step 3. For now I would need to focus on Step 2. After well over two hours of caffeine supported digging through the most untrustworthy and speculative parts of the internet I finally found what I was looking for. An apparently leaked memo that hinted at Stark Industries planning some sort of big event. Ideas were thrown around about what this could be, one more ridiculous than the last (one presented the idea that Tony would unveil a s*x oriented line of Iron Man… paraphernalia) but I knew what it really would be. Time to put on my nice suit, I was going to the Stark Expo. As a compromise, this time I laughed inside my head. So what if that makes me crazy? Everybody else already is. 'Bwahahahahahahahaha.' actually trying to figure out why my stupid blender apparently couldn't conquer the might of the ordinary banana) I saw the guard who looked extremely bored after his eight hour shift of just standing around, perk up slightly. As the sound of heavy engines met me I understood why: the drones have arrived. I kept "working" at my terminal (honestly it was a banana, a toothless grandma could chew it, so what the hell blender?) as the heavy crates containing the drones were offloaded and unpacked. I waited until the hustle and bustle of the entire process was winding down before I heard a hesitant knock on the door frame. The guard from before gave an uncomfortable look at my toolbox with its foreboding manuals promising ultimate boredom and at me, kneeling in front of the terminal with my arms up to my elbows in its guts (I had given up on the mystery of the only blender known to man who was apparently allergic to bananas and out of pettiness had decided I might as well try and figure out what this terminal was actually supposed to do). "You alright there?" Giving a non committal shrug I turned back to the inner workings of the machine in front of me (mostly to try and hide the heart attack he had given me) as I replied, making sure to line my voice with annoyance. "Sure, sure. Some i***t tried cutting corners in laying down the wiring so instead of a sequential relay I'm now dealing with a parallel circuit so's now I gotta go and run diagnostic's on every goddamn breaker, which is gonna take more time than actually laying the wiring right in the first place!" The guard gave a confused blink at my torrent of inane techno-babble (as intended) before evidently deciding it was not his problem. "Right, guess that sucks huh? Look, the shipment has been unloaded but the crew that are supposed to take the lot to the stage area haven't arrived yet but my shift technically ended about 35 minutes ago and I ain't getting paid overtime. You mind keeping an eye on things till they or the next guard shift turns up?" While the overworked guard was clearly surprised (and angered) by the tardiness of the next shift, I on the other hand felt only satisfaction. Then again, I had the advantage over the guard in knowing why the next shift was so late: because I arranged it to be so. I might not be willing to try and hack a criminal unstable genius like Ivan Vanko, but Jennifer from Administration? Bring. It. On. One sleepless night spent hacking the work schedule for this week using keycodes and passwords swiped from meeting rooms where I had technically no access to (thank you invincible safety vest!) and I had given myself a half hour window between this guard's shift and the arrival of the drones and the start of the next shift. More than enough with the superstrengh granted by my armor and with my tools in my toolbox. "Yeah, sure not a problem. Something happens, I'll just give a yell or something." I said, trying to sound as uninterested as possible, giving a nonchalant wave with one of my grease stained gloves as I turned back towards the mass of wires and circuity in front of me. The guard was clearly uncomfortable with leaving some electrician watching over a shipment of advanced military grade weaponry, but he turned out to be even more uncomfortable with working for more than nine hours straight by now (courtesy of yours truly again). "Right. Good luck with the… thing." He muttered, before being waved off as I just turned my back on him. I waited until the door on the far side of the hangar clicked closed, before I bolted towards where the drones were packed in neat rows. I had at maximum a half hour before the next shift was supposed to show up, but I still remembered the near miss at the showdown between Stane and Stark. At any moment someone could show up and massively screw up my plans. Sure, my power armor would allow me to at least get out of here alive, but I'd be on so many radars it wasn't even funny anymore. But I hadn't put on the armor for a fight, as counter-intuitive as it felt to every teenager in the universe, but for something more… utalitarian. vehicle there, was right in front of the hole I had just punched through the wall (there is something inherently satisfying about having a punching match with an architectural element and coming out on top. This might just be my new favorite hobby). Wasting no time since the dogfight over the Expo seemed to increase in intensity, I hurried back to the platforms with my unresponsive drones on them, throwing one over my shoulders. Each one weighed around half a tonne, but with my armor on I could take it (though it gave a distressed whine when I lifted the Army model with its oversized turret). Throwing it onto the trailer I quickly covered the heap of robots with with some tarp, got in my car and drove away from the Expo, where in all likelihood Stark and Rodey were fighting off Whiplash. I was greatly tempted to stick around to try and get my hands on Ivan's Arc Reactor but once again S.H.I.E.L.D. was on the scene and I didn't want to push my luck just yet. It was the same reason why I didn't go to Hammer's base to go for Ivan's blueprints since the Black Widow was currently there. At the moment I vastly outclassed her in the strength department, but I was sorely lacking in defensive options, while she was both faster and more skilled than me, which meant there was a chance she could disable me. No, I'll have to be content and take my drones to my storage unit, rip them apart and put them together for my own armor. No matter, there were other steps down the line which would allow me to have another chance at obtaining the Arc Reactor for myself, I just had to be patient a little longer. Step 3 was close to commencing and with the treasure trove of robotics in my trailer I'll be ready. I'm coming for you Bruce. Or rather, I'm coming for your blood.