Subtle had never been his forte.

Prepulsor tech screamed as the humanoid figure in the sky powered towards its destination, the clear, if powerful, sea of the Caribbean stretching out before him as he blasted past the cape of Florida. But for all the noise the system itself caused, the man within didn't hear a thing, ACDC blasting over the suit's internal sound system, right into the ears of its billionaire, genius occupant. At least according to himself, although in reality, both were objective fact. 

But Subtle? Not even he could claim that, even if he'd have wanted to.

The Iron Network may have meant he could talk to a set few people across the world without the government listening in, but he knew his suit would have been tracked the moment it left its hideout in Georgia. Of course he'd launched multiple suits from locations across his various properties. He'd even shot one off out of the vault SHIELD had failed to crack in the ex-Avengers tower, likely much to their chagrin. Each would head for a different location, most in small groups but as soon as the real Tony Stark touched down wherever, he knew the US government would know, might as well make it a show. Banking beneath a low cloud, Tony's suit was joined in flight by two others, automatically piloted, and somewhat earlier versions of the M29 he now flew. Cubans liked Tony Stark. Cuba did not.

There were no radio warnings, there hadn't been for years, although for all the good the element of surprise did them, the Cuban military may as well have flown a "We will shoot at you' banner. The suits picked up the oncoming missiles before they'd even left the ground, JARVIS locking on to the building heat signatures moments before they took to the skies. They would be allowed to close this time, just in case shutting them off caused some kind of ground level detonation. The red warning signs flashed in the suit before Tony could even see the missiles on the horizon, he didn't bother to zoom as he might to track a genuine threat. The countermeasures he had decided upon triggers when the offensive weapons closed to within a single second, just in time for him to smirk.

All three suits emitted a brief pulse, knocking the four missiles aside and onto a new trajectory, plummeting them to the sea below, where they would either simply sink, or detonate 'fairly' safely below the surface, depending upon the specifics of the assault. Stark didn't wait around to find out, all three suits then returning to top-flight speed as they approached the island nation, coming into sight of its sun bleached shores, rather than simply violating its air space. Once he had landed, the government wouldn't be able to take steps to deal with him, such a public attack on a global hero would not only cause international issue, but equally put them on fairly uneven footing with their own population. It had been less than a year since Stark had prevented a rogue-mutant attack on the island, the inhabitants having feared a similar event to the Manchester incident, although Stark had been sure they were not related. The suits dropped lower in the sky as they began to pass over Cuba, turning the heads of those in the vicinity to look to the sky, if only briefly, to catch a glimpse of three flying humanoids. Many cheered. It was something he would never get tired of.

The meeting place was a beach house along a very expensive stretch of shore, the nearest neighbors being several miles in either direction, although Stark had never saw fit to make his own stretch of the sand private, particularly when it came to the locals. A past exploit had once told him that God had used up all the spare 'sexy' on the Cubans, and Tony had seen little to make him doubt that, at least when it came to the sort who wanted to party on a stretch of beach owned by an American billionaire, genius, superhero. The three 'Iron Men' touched down on the large stilted platform that jutted forth from the house, out and over the sea. Two separate swimming pools and as many hot tubs co-inhabited the space, along with a number of, currently unoccupied, bars. The property itself had been 'donated' to the Avengers cause as a safe house and headquarters outside of the US, although with the dissolution of the Avengers, it 'technically' belonged to SHIELD. The thought made Tony laugh as the mask of his suit descended into it, allowing him to feel the warm sea breeze on his face, and to see the world in more than a holographic display.

"JARVIS, update on the assembly."

"Several individuals are already on their way, although some are delayed or have yet to establish plans, do you wish to send a prompt?"

"This isn't a Facebook event JARVIS, even I can wait." Stark managed to keep his impatience hidden within him, even to his artificial butler-AI as he walked over to one of the previously mentioned bars, the metallic boots of the suit clanking as he did so, removing a bottle of malt whiskey from the bar, kept cold by a refrigerator that ran on the most sustainable cooling system outside of his first home, Stark took a sip as he turned to face the view. He avoided taking more for a moment, while not an alcoholic, probably, he tried to monitor his intake. Sometimes. With that though, he trudged to the left side of the platform, looking out over the beach. He paused in thought to wave at a couple of women prancing in the waves, which earned him a few blow kisses. Chicks digged suits. Especially the Iron kind. The two unoccupied suits practically stood at attention towards the centre of the platform, although in reality, their internal AIs were busy calculating many different problems, some that were completely irrelevant to this mission.

"Might I suggest you continue to wear the Mark 29 for this meeting sir?"

"Why would that be JARVIS?"

"It seems counterproductive to produce a helmet to prevent telepathy, to then not wear it in the company of telepaths."

"It was more for the evil, maniacal telepaths JARVIS, not the beautiful resurrected ones, how can they trust me if I make an effort to hide my thoughts?"

"How can you trust them if they feel the need to read them?"

"Touche JARVIS, I'll contemplate it."

"That's all I can ask sir."

Jarvis' voice had already began to quieten as he replied, the metal innards of the suit whirring as Tony stepped out of it, already dressed in beach shorts, comically Hawaiian in style. He first looked to his own, temperature controlled and purified pools, designed specifically to his personal tastes and not to mention, incredibly expensive. Then he turned to the sea.

Women.

"Lets see how good my Spanish still is." He mused to himself, before turning to leap the banister, landing several meters below on the sand.

"Ola, Ladies."