Tony Stark

Tomorrow morning, Tony was going to hate the island for everything it had done to him this weekend. Tonight, however, he was sixteen and dumb. There was an entire shop of supplies downstairs to rig up some pretty bitchin' light systems and sift through the music there was for anything that he recognized or thought was interesting.

There was, of course, also all the alcohol he managed to find in the place. Aw yeah, a non-boring party with people his own age. Because no one really wanted to party with the weird rich kid who was working on another doctorate. And the people who did want to usually got bitchsmacked by Rhodey for taking advantage. So.

This was his chance, damn it. He was taking it.

[Paaaarty! Open of course!]

After finishing with class, Tony got back to his lab for what he could only hope wasn't going to be a terrible conversation after getting her text last night. It could be good news, right? His life was totally full of good news these days.

Okay, he was doing a little nervous tinkering because things rarely went his way and he knew it.

Shhh.

[For the lady of the arachnid persuasion and NFB!]

So, instead of calling The Avengers for help, Tony had decided to use an experimental process to fix his injuries and upgrade his... everything. Because that seemed like a reasonable thing that in no way would get him yelled at by anyone.

Sure.

For the moment, he was in what could only be described as a metallic cocoon as the changes to his body took place, blissfully unaware that someone was going to yell at him very soon.

[NFB again, duh. For the ladies]