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we get the job done

who: Illya Kuryakin with Ivar and Ultimates Tony (later)
what: Sparring & Chess because Illya is competitive in every single thing he does
when: During and after the temporary Chalice event
where: Illya’s usual gym
warnings: Angry men Will add as needed

Ivar;

Illya was an extremely competitive man. He’d always been, and he probably would always be. The fact that that tendency had been encouraged in his training probably didn’t help. But the fact is, that during his entire life Illya has strived to be the best at everything he does. And, considering his father was sent to the gulag in shame and he’d had to become the man of the house pretty early on he’d also tried his best to be as aggressive and strong as he’d been told a Russian men should be.

Point is: Illya played to win, no matter what. And the look in his eyes as he eyed Ivar while he stretched before their match said this situation wasn’t going to be any different.

“I was surprised you still wanted to go through this, considering what’s happening.”

Tony Stark;

Illya had only met the man once, over a chess game he’d somehow won even when he was well and thoroughly intoxicated with alcohol. But he won’t deny it had been a memorable meeting, and not just because Illya doesn’t lose at chess often when he’s playing with random people from the street.

It was kind of amusing to Illya that every time he’s talked about Tony Stark to people from certain worlds they all seemed to just... know, what he meant when he was trying to describe the man and failing. But luckily for him that meant that tracking him down was kind of easy- even if tracking down the right Tony Stark was a little harder.

After contacting him and suggesting they play again (he’d been practicing!), Illya was then waiting for him as he did his best to clean his room to make it presentable. ...His room was actually pretty spotless, but one always has to show your best side to your guests.

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Just because Ivar had been affected by what was going on only meant that the usual insane, feral anger had been tempered into something less ferocious. Most of his basic personality, minus the unstable nature and usual sadism, was still present. All this guaranteed was that at least Illya wasn't going to get stabbed in the chest with a knife if Ivar got too involved in their match.

"I haven't changed that much. And it gives me something to do." He didn't look like much, sitting there in his wheelchair, arms with the braces on them that his roommate had made for him. But there was definitely a look of intensity in his strange blue eyes.

Most of what Illya knew about Ivar was through a game of chess. So he knew the kid was ruthless and didn’t hold any prisoners. It was still a pretty big leap to expect to be stabbed during a sparring match, even if Illya was usually on edge when fighting with most people so that would… definitely be appreciated.

Illya has been sparring for most of his life, so he was taught to act with honor and respect during them. He may take a no-holds-barred approach during mission, but he respects his opponents during a match. Enough to always do his best- which was, apparently, something he had to prove to Ivar.

“Is there any rules you usually follow?”

Tony was more than happy to let the other man invite him over for another round. Alexei was the the type of person he was used to and it helped having something familiar to keep his footing among all these strangers. He also had a fairly solid idea how far he could push him before fists would be thrown which was always a plus.

He doesn't arrive on time, but also not late enough to make someone wonder if they would show up at all. It's due to a lot of practice that he manages to come in during that nebulous period of time that's called fashionably late. He's also brought a bottle of wine, not necessarily for himself although he wouldn't say no if it was offered, but because it was polite to bring a little something when visiting someone.

The knock on Alexei's door is solid, while Tony isn't capable of giving up drinking completely, he hasn't drunk enough to be as intoxicated as last time. He'll still give the other man a handicap, but he figures Alexei would appreciate it if he thought Tony would take him seriously this time.

Illya hadn’t been sure what he had been expecting when he’d called the man. Truth to be told this is Illya doing his best to be nice, to extend a hand to try to be friendly so he doesn’t have much experience when it comes to this kind of thing. So this is going to be a fun situation for everyone involved.

“Hello, Mr Stark.” He greets when he opens the door. Anyone who saw them would probably assume he’d been forced to invite Tony over considering his expression, but Illya’s just got a bad case of a resting bitch face and since Tony already saw him pretty angry when he lost at chess he figures he doesn’t have to fake it.

“The chess board is ready.”

A lesser man might have been put off by the expression that greeted him, but Tony only breezes past as if he never noticed. If a little scowl could intimidate him, he'd never have made it this far in life.

"No foreplay? What a shame."

He runs what appears to be a casual eye around the room before taking a seat. He wasn't the secret agent so he wasn't taking note of exits and potential cover and instead he was reading the little hints on what kind of man Alexei was by how he organised his room.

Illya snorts, which is pretty much the closest he gets to laughing at other people’s jokes so Tony should be proud of that one. He motions him inside without much of a preamble.

“I don’t like wasting time.” Meaning playing his game of chess because he has a frankly stupid vendetta against someone who dared to be smarter than he is is… totally not a waste of time, for some reason. But to be fair even though he can be pretty standoffish and he will be the first one to say he doesn’t really need anyone he actually enjoys the company of people who he finds interesting. Tony just happens to be a very annoying and frustrating kind of interesting person.

“Want anything to drink?” The only alcohol in the house is vodka, though.

Tony recognises a win when he sees it. That little hint from Illya is only going to encourage him further because now he knows he's not completely unwanted. Annoying people was fun and all, but only to a point. If they wanted nothing to do with him there was only so much he could do before it was just tedious on both sides.

"I assume it's a choice between water and vodka. I'll have the vodka." He's an alcoholic, he's never going to pick anything else until he admits he has a problem.

Illya shrugs. He’s slightly irritated that he can read him so quickly but he figures he needs to get used to if he’s going to deal with someone this smart on a regular basis. And yes, he can tell from Tony’s amusement that he knows Illya actually enjoys Tony’s particular brand of badgering him so he’s going to have a hard time pushing him away even if he wanted to.

“Water is good, and so is vodka.” He says like that’s enough of an explanation. But he does go get a glass of vodka or Tony and one for himself. “Trying to give me… how do you put it? An advantage? Trying to make this match more fair?”

Tony smirks at that. "I thought our first match proved you needed more help than just that." Come on, show him how much he wants to beat him. Tony is here to be entertained and it's not their match that's going to do it.

He walks over to where the board is set up and picks up a pawn. "Because let's face it, you'll need all the advantages you can get."

Illya’s lips twitch downwards and he taps once, just once against his leg. He knew what he was getting into when he invited Tony over so he was ready to do his best to control his anger. He just wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon.

“I know what I am up to now. It will be different.” Except probably not really, and deep down he’s aware of that. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to acknowledge it, even to himself. Kind of a sore loser, this one. He sits on the other side of the board, ready to reply in kind to any movements Tony does.

“I was surprised you agreed to come, though.”

Ivar has to think about that for a moment. He's gotten used to having no limits when it comes to a fight. Since he already had such a momentous disadvantage when it came to fighting, he usually fought dirty, not caring about anything except winning against his opponents. In his current state, he does have a little bit more honor than that. "No biting." The fact he has to clarify this should tell Illya just what kind of person Ivar was when it came to fights. But seeing as how he'd nearly taken his brother's ear off during more than one conflict, it still warranted saying.

"No cheap shots. Other than that, I'm fine with anything." He looks eager and ready to get going. Fighting to kill someone was always fun, but there was a certain joy to be found in simply sparring with someone, no life and death on the line.

Cheap shots. Illya can’t help but wonder what he means by that- but the biting rule is pretty self-explanatory. He’s not above that when he’s actually fighting for his country but as far as he’s aware this isn’t a life or death kind of fight. There’s no reason for him to do that. But yes, the fact that Ivar feels like that deserved an specific mention makes him raise an eyebrow because it probably means it wouldn’t be the first time. The guy is a viking, he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Let’s get to it, then.” And he doesn’t wait a second to basically try to tackle him to the ground. If only to see how he reacts to a quick attack.

Ivar's expecting an attack, so he's braced and ready for whatever comes next. Ivar's got a great disadvantage in not being as quick and mobile as someone with a pair of working legs, but he's learned to compensate. When Illya tackles him, he doesn't try to stay seated, instead allowing himself to be brought down to the ground level. It's of no consequence to the Viking. He's been fighting on the ground his whole life and is comfortable that way.

As soon as he's on the ground, Ivar grabs ahold of Illya, using the momentum to push himself up. Then he rears his head back and headbutts the Russian, counting on him not knowing his fighting style yet so that he won't be able to avoid the move.

Tony is the kind of person who likes to see how far he could push someone so while the warning signs don't go unnoticed they're still ignored. Even if things go poorly, he wouldn't regret his actions.

"So you were asking other people to play with you earlier knowing you would be a poor player?" There's a smirk on his face that says he knows exactly what he's doing here. However to at least give the impression that there's more to his words Tony's actually picked white this time.

"And I wanted to know what kind of man asks for a rematch when he knows he's out of his depth."

“I am not a poor player.”

Illya’s tone should tell Tony that’s kind of a sore subject, but knowing him that will probably just encourage him to push it further so he does his best not to let it show. Which isn’t much. For someone who literally works hiding in the background and not letting people truly know him he can be a particularly bad actor when he’s being genuine.

“And I may not be able to beat you yet, but what kind of man doesn’t wish to improve himself?” He shrugs one shoulder. “Not a Russian one, that’s for sure. And I do not know… many people who would be able to beat me when drunk. Maybe I was simply interested.”

He doesn't go out of his way to insult people so he lets it drop. Irritating was one thing, insulting was something else. He insults enough people as it is without really intending to.

This time Tony has taken white for himself, he doubts there's much to be learned if the opponent outclasses them in every way, but that is how Alexei wants to play it.

"If someone can't swim do you start by throwing them in the deep end? Hmm, you probably would. So let's see if you can hold your head through the rapids."

Illya, who would totally train someone to swim that way if he was asked to, raises an eyebrow as waits for Tony to begin. He doesn’t want to seem stupid in front of someone so clearly intelligent so he mulls over the question before he finally asks, hoping he has the right words. It hits him that he’s actually trying to impress Tony a little, which. He isn’t sure why, but he figures it’s his constant need to be The Best.

“Coddling kids doesn’t work, they don’t learn that way. Coddling adult men is even worse. I will learn by losing.” He motions at the board. “It is an good thing to play with people who are able to beat you.”

A beat.

"For now."

Illya isn’t stupid. And he hadn’t been lying when he said he wouldn’t think less of Ivar or condescend to him because he couldn’t use his legs. There wasn’t anyone with that particular disability in Illya’s team, but he’s known plenty of people who had been trained to overcome them and use different skill sets, so he’s ready for Ivar to be able to dodge his attack. He’d just been curious to see how he would.

Apparently, he doesn’t and just goes with it. Bold choice, thinks Illya but it’s clearly effective as he’s being headbutted. He wasn’t expecting it so he’s not able to fully dodge, but he does manage to avoid him hitting him critically. He doesn’t waste time, and soon tries to punch Ivar right on the jaw.

Having grown up in a Viking society with four brothers, Ivar had learned early on how to take a punch. Still doesn't keep it from hurting, but it's nothing that will keep him incapacitated for more than a short time. Ivar's fond of telling people that marks that eventually come off don't keep him down for too long. He resists the urge to rub at his jaw after his head snaps back from the movement. Better to focus on the fight at hand.

Illya's far taller and heavier than Ivar, so his first task is getting the great lump off of him. He's not to keep up in this thing if he's pinned down. So he goes low and punches Illya in the kidneys, the same type of move he might make if he had a knife in his hands if Ivar was trying to kill him. He's trying to get Illya to move so that Ivar can roll to the side.

Illya takes the hit- it hurts, but he’s taken worse and he knows if he doubles over he will be giving Ivar far too much advantage. But he also knows that if he stays like that Ivar will keep on hitting him until he finally moves, so he does roll over- but punches the side of Ivar’s face, right on his temple to try to stun him enough not to retaliate quickly.

And so the battle goes. Illya’s fighting style is angry, rough and unafraid of using his entire strength- but he’s frankly not used to fighting with someone who’s as aggressive as he is. Eventually he raises his hands in the universal sight to call the fight over.

“You… actually pose a challenge.”

Ivar's panting hard by the time Illya calls for a surrender. It's never easy fighting with anyone, but especially when they're the size of a small bear like the Russian is. But he's not discouraged in the least, able to hold his own. Ivar's always gotten by on pure anger and grit, even now when he's different than he normally is.

Ivar grins sharply. "You sound surprised by that." He's used to that reaction from people. Everyone thinks he's an easy target until they actually try to take him on. Then they realize the Viking is still a very dangerous opponent even without use of his legs.

Illya rubs a finger right under his nose, which seems to be bleeding. But not profusely, and it seems to have mostly stopped so he doesn’t worry about it- he’s been through much worse than a few badly taking hits during a sparring session. That was a little more intense than what he’s used to for a simple sparring session, but he simply replied in kind to IVar’s aggressivity and in the end… it’s also been a lot more fun than what he was expecting.

He grins at him.

“Not many people can keep up with me, let alone make me pause a fight. You were trained well.” Illya has been conditioned not to trust anyone, at all, and to expect the unexpected. So even if he had wanted to think of Ivar as an easy target his instinct wouldn't have let him.

The young Viking isn't too bad off himself. There's isn't a mark on him that won't eventually fade with time, a few bruises and scratches. Ivar puffs up with pride at the compliment, rubbing at a sore spot on the side of his face.

"That's what Vikings do. We fight." For honor, for glory, for their gods, and simply because they enjoyed it. They were one of the few cultures of the world that would ever come about whose entire existence revolved around fighting and becoming warriors. They were bold and fearless, though they wouldn't last nearly as long as other ancient cultures. Their star had burned bright and fast.

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