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Armored Underworld (fanfiction) pt 11 of 41

Tony Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man, and Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, party at the Iceberg Lounge… until they’re interrupted.

Want to read this from the start? CLICK HERE!

Iron Man mask

The Iceberg Lounge had quickly become the premiere spot in Gotham’s nightlife. It was open only two random nights a week, making it even more exclusive.

But when it was open, the parties raged well into the morning — well past city curfew.

And not everything that happened in the club was totally above board.

It helped that the owner, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, also used his criminal connections and financing as the Penguin to blackmail, extort or pay off anyone with authority to shut him down.

The flow of celebrities also helped the Lounge’s upstanding veneer. All of Gotham’s elite made it in one of the two nights the Lounge was open.

Other partiers flew in from Metropolis, New York, Star City, even as far as Europe and Asia, just to get their faces in the tabloids the next day.

Tonight, he had Tony Stark as a guest.

The billionaire industrialist fashioned himself a DJ this evening, though Cobblepot had it on good authority that Stark had had some Vegas resident DJ make him a playlist and Stark merely played back the track, dancing along as if he were a star. In this way, he was.

But, like his costumed alter ego Iron Man, DJ Stark was but a shell.

Either way, it was important for Cobblepot to get a picture with the man. It would go far in legitimizing his image and burying his mobster persona of the Penguin.

His entourage of security waded through the throngs of hot young bodies when he saw one of his VIP guards (Leon, he believed), making his way against the sea toward him.

Despite the bright, flashing lights, Cobblepot could make out the expression on Leon’s face. He’d seen it too often before. He had the expression of a man who’d seen a ghost.

Or a bat.

Cobblepot stopped his entourage so that Leon could catch up. All his security men stood head and shoulders above Cobblepot’s diminutive five-foot-tall frame.

He used his ever-present umbrella to press his men aside so Leon could get close enough to yell over the thundering electronic music Stark forced through the Lounge’s speakers.

“He’s here, Mr. Cobblepot!” Leon shouted.

Cobblepot didn’t need to ask who. “What does he want this time?” he asked.

“Didn’t say. Just wants to see you in your office.”

Cobblepot cast his good eye at Stark (the other eye had a monocle over it). The man had a set of studio headphones to one ear. Stark tilted his head back so some bikini-clad vixen could pour a bottle of one of the Lounge’s top-shelf vodkas into his mouth.

If it wasn’t Stark, and if the crowd wasn’t spending so freely, Cobblepot might have something to say about the hedonism.

It appeared he had an unscheduled meeting with Gotham’s resident vigilante.

Iron Man mask

Stark had to hand it to Cobblepot. He knew how to throw a party.

All sorts of Gotham high society types packed themselves into the Iceberg Lounge was packed. Stark had even seen a few familiar faces from the celebrity set. Top shelf alcohol flowed like the ice-cold water of the lake in the center of the club.

And mad balls for putting an iceberg in the middle of that lake, complete with a few penguins.

Having penguins in your club and then insisting no one call you by your criminal nom de guerre “the Penguin” is a bit hypocritical, but who was a guy running around in a suit of armor calling himself Iron Man to judge?

Stark finished off the second bottle of vodka, graciously poured straight down his throat by Playboy’s Playmate of the year 2016.

He maintained one hand on the digital turntable (totally for show) and the other on his headphones (also totally for show). Occasionally, he’d throw out some shout outs to keep the crowd guessing.

The alcohol had blurred Stark’s vision so he rarely looked out into the crowd. The lights didn’t help. Looking to his left and right in the DJ booth, he had some of the finest looking women God could offer. He didn’t need to look much past that.

Stark felt a tug on his arm from one of the girls. He looked at her, said something he thought was intelligible. She merely frowned, then pointed toward the stairs leading up to the booth.

Stark leaned back so he could look past her.

A Black man in a decidedly unfashionable full-length leather coat stood at the bottom of the stairs. The coat didn’t throw Stark off; with the lowered temps in here, the coat made sense.

Stark was startled by the eye patch over the man’s left eye and the glare of impatience from the other eye.

Stark frowned.

The girl who’d pulled on Stark handed him a business card. Stark looked at it. It had the logo for the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate — SHIELD.

The card confirmed what Stark already knew about the man downstairs.

That man was General Nick Fury, director of SHIELD, and a man who didn’t make personal calls unless it was drop-dead important.

Flipping the card to its back, Stark saw a message written in pen, directing him to make it to the roof in the next five minutes.

Stark looked back at Fury. Fury had left.

That didn’t mean Stark could ignore the message.

To be continued…

While writing this fanfiction, I used Green Ronin’s Mutants and Masterminds, 3rd Edition RPG, to leave some things to chance. Check it out!

Like this fanfiction? Check out Mark’s original “Shadowdance” saga books!

Copyright Info

DC Adventures, Copyright 2011, Green Ronin Publishing; Author Steve Kenson. It’s now Mutants and Masterminds, 3rd Edition

Advanced Player’s Manual, Copyright 2005, Green Ronin Publishing: Author Skip Williams.

The characters Iron Man, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Vanko, Black Widow and Nick Fury are Copyright Marvel Comics

The characters Batman/ Bruce Wayne, Batgirl/ Barbara Gordon, Black Mask, the Penguin/ Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, Renee Montoya, Commissioner Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, Robin/ Dick Grayson, KGBeast and Bane are Copyright DC Comics

The character Juri Han is Copyright Capcom

None of the characters belong to me as this is fanfiction, done for fun, and as a creative exercise.

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