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Excerpts from the Daybook of Virgina Potts, With Zombies

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Excerpts from the Daybook of Virginia Pepper Virginia Pepper Tony, I swear to God if you hack my PDA one more time every coffee shop in the country will serve you decaf until 2012 Virgina Potts

Dec. 18th, 2010

[…] at which point three of them started crying. Which I’m not proud of, but they’re grown men and it did make my point. I fully anticipate that the next delivery will arrive on time.

Agent Coulson dropped by again; his previously flimsy excuses have become downright unbelievable. Either he’s hiding something unpleasant from me, or he’s attempting to subtly romance me. Note: pry answers out of Tony within next three days.

The usual company Christmas party caterer cancelled at the last second without explanation. Several options are currently under investigation, including [...]

Dec. 19th, 2010

[…] which was when Agent Coulson showed up. Tony informed him that their previously flimsy excuses had become downright unbelievable, and that he’d made the unilateral decision to inform me what was going on. Agent Coulson wasn’t pleased, but since Tony had already told me about the z-virus outbreak, there wasn’t anything he could do. On the topic of “not pleased”, Tony, I for one would like the maintain the pleasant illusion that you’re not reading my private day book; as such, please refrain from using direct quotes in conversation.

Sorry. Won’t happen again.

What did I say about the pleasant illusion? And, Tony, since you’re reading this anyways, then I need you to return the Raytheon paperwork. It has to be filed.


No can do. I’m trying to maintain the pleasant illusion.


Dec. 20th, 2010

[…] and Tony left to try and lend a hand, with Rhodey shouting profanities after him at the top of his lungs. I’ll give him points for creative use of language, but he should know by now that you can’t deal with Tony that way. I wish it had worked, though. There’s nothing Tony can do to help. At least those things won’t be able to bite through the Suit. I hope.

Meanwhile, I was left doing damage control with the press and a horde of disgruntled Christmas party guests who were working themselves up into a froth over the word “zombie”. Once I got the band playing again, Bethany dragged a few people out on the dance floor and managed to get the party going again, thank God, because we were well on our way to a riot. That Everhart woman was there again, but I was able to distract her with […]

Dec. 21th, 2010

[…] on the television announcing that they’re quarantined almost a quarter of the country, from Texas to North Carolina. Tony isn’t back yet. Coulton stopped by for a little casual interrogation, but there was nothing I could tell him.

Dec. 22th, 2010

Tony, when you read this, I just want you to know that I’m going to kick your ass for putting me through this all over again.

Dec. 23th, 2010

Tony’s back. He showed up late last night, suit banged up and the AI program almost non-functional, but he’s back. He’s sleeping now, so I’ve taken the opportunity look at the images the Suit recorded before he can wake up and lock me out of the system.

It’s bad.

I’ve given the staff at Tony’s DC house twelve hours to prepare it for our arrival without further notice - it’s fairly bare-bones, compared to the California mansion, but it’s also the furthest house he owns from the quarantined area. I also contacted the Hotel Seiyo Ginza in Tokyo and told them to hold his usual suites, and never mind the cost. Just in case. There’s a jet fuelled and waiting at the airport, and I’m using more of Tony’s money than I like to think about to ensure they’ll have a pilot ready to fly at all times.

There’s a fine line between paranoia and preparedness, but given what I’ve seen… I don’t think I’ve crossed it yet.

Debatable. I’ve cancelled the hotel reservation – we’re not leaving. Not now.

Go back to bed, Tony. We’ll talk in the morning.

What, no snide remarks about the illusion of privacy?

Bed, Tony. I mean it.

Yes, Mom.

Dec. 24th, 2010

[…] up and about already, despite very specific orders from his doctors. He says he’s got some genius idea to save the day, though, and apparently it involves frantically tinkering with the rejects from an old Stark Industries weather manipulation project that no one has touched since his father’s days. He’s not talking to me about it, of course. Why ruin a perfectly good brooding fit with explanations?

I’m not brooding, Pepper.

And yet apparently he has time to read my daybook. Illusion of privacy, Tony, remember?

In the meantime, life goes on, and this house won’t run itself. Some of our usual services have been cut off by the quarantine, so I’ve been making some calls, and […]

Dec. 25th, 2010

It’s snowing in Florida. And in Texas, and LA, and the entire quarantined zone. The news is calling it a “Christmas miracle”; apparently the zombies have frozen solid. Tony’s down there with S.H.E.I.L.D. right now, dealing with the damage and trying to keep little old ladies from freezing to death in their mobile homes.

I totally saved Christmas, and you know it, Potts.

You wired the Suit into my PDA?

Uh. Maybe?

Pepper? You there?

Merry Christmas, Tony. And well done.

What, that’s it? Gosh, if I’d known all it would take was single-handedly stopping the zombie apocalypse, I’d have done this ages ago!


…right. Back to work. See you in a few days, Potts.

Just be home for the New Year’s party. I don’t feel like covering for you again.

Is that the one with the investors?


Uh-oh. Looks like doing my patriotic duty and cleaning up after these zombies is going to take longer than I expected. But don’t worry – I have faith that you can handle it on your own.