Scour

[in_extremis]

WHO: Tony and anyone who wants to suffer
WHERE: The forge, Temba
WHAT: Tony's finally back from Not-Temba, and doing some housekeeping
WHEN: Mid-august
WARNINGS: It's a Tony post. It's safe so far, but watch your step.


The forge was rarely quiet.

Even in Tony's absence, the place hadn't been entirely empty; he could see traces of Catra's visits in the little messes she had left around, like he might not notice among the mess he had left behind himself. The D.A.T.A. unit struggling to manage its awkward limbs, still under development, followed Tony from its watchful crouch at the top of the door to display exactly how useless it had been in trying to pick up after either of them in the meantime, kicking a bolt across the floor in an effort to grasp it and stumbling like a baby deer after it. Tony sighed as he watched it slip on the rotting skin of some fruit that some trespasser had been eating from the meagre store he kept at the back of the room. At least it hadn't gone to waste. Evidently, there wasn't going to be any relaxing done here until someone cleaned this place up.

It was a large building, but the space inside was dominated by the furnace that Tony coaxed back from its constant, low smoldering to a hungry crackle that belched sparks and thick plumes of colourful smoke from the chimney high above him as he tossed garbage and glitter into it alike to clear the floor. Circling around behind the fire was a shivering, metal staircase that led up to a series of catwalks overhead, where Tony had to balanced to try to knock the fur from the beams and walkways where Catra liked to lounge the most, and scare the spiders out of their cobwebs and try to bat them directly into the flames with his broom. Beneath him, the worst of the dirt fell to coat his workbench, making him roll his eyes as he bent to peer over the railing. The bench sat in the path directly from the door, facing the fire, equal parts wood and metal bolted to the floor and then built up in a scaffold that reached all the way to the catwalk above where its weight looked like it might threaten to drag the whole thing down. It was laden with works under construction; more D.A.T.A. units, a handheld vacuum, a bronze ape's skeleton, a myriad of gloves, boots and chestpieces, and buckets full of heart-shaped glitter. Closest to the bench were places for Tony to hang his larger tools, that he had to scavenge around his own shop to find, dust and replace. In between all of these pieces were rare scraps of paper, pinned between the tools and crafts without obvious reason; a treasure map, a drawing that looked like someone was trying an impression of the still in the Deep End, a love letter with a three-eyed smiley face. There wasn't any other paper to be found in the forge; drawers and baskets under the bench were full of nails and wires, broken glass, and what looked kind of like the Mandalorian's helmet. Behind the workbench hung bodies.

From the catwalk above and braced by loops of wiring, some glowing faintly and others trembling at too much movement like they were on the verge of falling apart, suits of armor in various configurations hung for access. Most were decapitated in some way, arms and legs hanging separately, and some pieces appearing entirely alien to the man that most of them were meant to fit. With an irritable instruction, the D.A.T.A. unit clambered up among the wires to begin releasing some to clatter riotously to the stone floor, a crashing and racket that continued as Tony hauled the dark curtains the made up most of his bedding outside to shake out in the fresh air. It wasn't much more organized out here, but there were more wires looping from a window around the back of the forge to another bench that had been set up in among the larger pieces of scrap Tony had claimed and left languishing in the grass until they were needed. He hung these linens over the wires, shooing away a brightly coloured parrot that squawked a complaint, and gladly returned to settle comfortably on the fabric as Tony went skulking back inside. There was a bucket of black water sitting still next to where he hammered by the fire to cool the metal, and he kicked that across the floor to start sweeping the water and the grime it picked up with it out the door. A glint of gold caught his eye at the edge of the sunlight, stalling his energetic sweep to pluck the chain up out of the dirty swill and consider it thoughtfully in his palm before he was throwing it carelessly onto the workbench and retreating with a decisive slam into the small bathroom at the back of the forge.

The D.A.T.A. unit obediently pushed one of the discarded armor pieces across the slick floor, struggling to balance and shove it up the low wall with a scrabbling of delicate legs, and fell back triumphantly as it tipped the armor over into the mouth of the forge and greedy lick of the flames. For a moment, the fire sputtered, with a crackle of bright sparks as the D.A.T.A. unit toddled to its feet again.

In a deep, rumbling boom that made the stones on the dirt road outside skip, a great, black plume poured out of the forge's chimney. Inside, the D.A.T.A unit was thrown back against the wall, and the room was coated with sizzling soot and flecks of orange embers.

Comments

[out_of_order]

BD-1's antennae flew up in mild alarm as the other robot toppled over, skittering around to his other side to try helping nudge him back up again. A chuckle escaped from Cal as he watched the little robot's enthusiasm and its resulting, but he trusted his own droid buddy to have things handled.

"But the train still works," he pointed out. "So power itself isn't being blocked, at least along the rail line, if not the train itself. True that a satellite might be the best bet. I haven't talked to him about it since I'd offered him scraps to use."

[in_extremis]

"Yeah, he seems to be doing that on his own..." Tony mused, looking slightly troubled by the idea, but that might have been directed at the robot flailing its legs out to reorient itself, only to overcorrect and tip the other way, sending it rolling off of the bench. With his hand splayed open and lips pursed, Tony looked to Cal to clearly ask if Cal saw what Tony had been dealing with as the D.A.T.A. unit bounced across the floor.

"There's a broken window on the train," he continued, waving his hand then like he had no idea how that might have happened, then gripping his wrench like a gun as he continued, "We could make something to bolt some equipment right into the wall and off the tracks." That could have literally been throwing work out the window if the signal was just being blocked, though, so Tony dropped his hands with some irritation and asked abruptly instead, "What's your read on him?"

[out_of_order]

"It has been a while since then. I wonder how progress has gone. I'll see about asking him," Cal said as he watched the robot totter almost drunkenly about. He grimaced as it fell right off the bench, giving Tony a sheepish half-grin. Well, he tried?

"Broken- yeah, I saw that," he said as he stooped down to check on the robot before setting him on his feet again. He did wonder about that broken window, but he figured that maybe it was like that when it came in. Then again, it was kind of an odd place for a broken window. "That's a possibility." He'd considered something along those lines. True, there'd be a risk and potential waste of material if it didn't work out, but they still had to try. "Have we tracked how far before the connection cuts?"

Cal remained half-kneeling on the floor, glancing up as BD-1 jetted down from the workbench to circle the D.A.T.A. unit. "On who, Beck?" the padawan asked as he looked over at Tony. One had to hop and skip back and forth in conversations with this guy. "He seems all right. I haven't really spoken to him outside of offering parts for the satellite, but he was eager to see what he could do with them."

[in_extremis]

The D.A.T.A. unit likely would have found a way to fumble around no matter the stability of his legs; this clumsiness appeared to be inherent in his design, generally unintended for mobility and unaware of his own limitations. For example, the way he watched BD-1 navigate easily down to him while he was turned over with his new legs waving in the air like a turtle, clearly led him directly to the incredibly ambitious hop he attempted well before he properly had his balance again, like he thought he might jump like that, too. He ended up on his side again, camera eye rolling around the room.

"I've only been on the train a couple of times myself," Tony admitted, so he wasn't the most well versed in its peculiarities. "If we can get any of those ships over there running, we might have a better chance of taking some measurements. They got there somehow, obviously. There's steps to retrace." Meanwhile, he was tapping his chin, looking concerned, not convinced that what Cal had to offer Beck was limited to satellite-application. Just as before, Tony clearly thought there was an easy logical path for Cal to follow him to, "How is it that you kept those two from killing each other, exactly?" Maybe a little mind control wasn't so bad, given the right circumstances.

[out_of_order]

BD-1 stopped his circling as the robot took another tumble, once again stepping over to try nudging him back into an upright position. Cal had to smile at that, getting to his feet again as he let BD-1 handle herding the D.A.T.A. unit.

"Same," Cal said in relation to his own train experience. Testing out the communication range hadn't exactly been on his mind then either. "That would be pretty helpful. It'd be nice to see what all was in between here and there, and from a different point of view." You could see a lot more from above. The trip would likely be faster too. Well, hopefully.

He caught the look on Tony's face, unsure what to make of it, and he arched a brow at the man in an unspoken query. Instead he got a question back, and once again he had to jump mental rails to retrace that earlier part of conversation. "I talked them down?" he said with a bit of a frown. "I was also standing between them- not a very ideal place to be, but at least I didn't think Echo would shoot."

[in_extremis]

"Ships might even have their own relays. We could still make a call in space," Tony mused, still tapping at his chin like he was considering the weightier problem of Cal putting himself in line to be shot. "Power first," he decided, because that was going to change the landscape anyway, and either reveal some helpful tools or offer them options to build their own, so it might not have been worth exploring the options yet. And he clearly wasn't interested in debating that decision, because he quickly continued, "What if he did? Shoot. What's the move?"

[out_of_order]

That was a good point, which Cal had to nod at. "I wondered about that. So theoretically if those new ships found in the other city are functional, they'd act as receivers." From what was still the question. But he could agree that powering on things in general was an important first step.

"He wasn't the one I was worried about attacking." Which was true enough. Cal trusted Echo. He'd been the one to get him out of the crystal caves by the beach. Cal's intent in having Obi-Wan and Echo meet wasn't so much for Obi-Wan's as it was for Echo to ensure nothing happened to him from misunderstandings.

"...and if for whatever reason that did happen? If it wasn't aimed at me, then I'd still be having to stop two people from killing each other."

[in_extremis]

Tony finally slipped from the bench to join the synthetics on the ground, where the D.A.T.A unit had calmed enough to be slowly testing his balance with one leg carefully lifted at a time, potentially from watching BD-1's birdlike balancing, and giving a wobble for some stress. This process was interrupted as Tony offered, "Have you checked it out yet, you need anything to get the lights back on?," and scooped up the robot, not holding him out like a wet cat this time and tucked in the crook of his arm, but Tony still added, "You could take him. I can't guarantee that will make your life any better, but it could improve mine."

Okay, maybe Tony was stalling a little bit, because he didn't really want to ask, "Listen, but if that did happen, that thing in Echo's head went off and he wasn't going to be talked down, whatever, what's the move? Because we don't have the kind of manpower to dedicate to sitting on someone in a jail cell, and its not like we can just leave someone in a locked room somewhere because--who knows, the walls could cave in, or another storm could hit, or we could all wake up on the ships and they're stuck there and starving."

[out_of_order]

"I haven't," Cal admitted. "Mostly did some climbing and light gardening." He grinned at the latter. It probably wouldn't be too much of a stretch for Tony to figure out what he meant by that. He'd seen it firsthand back in the mansion after all. BD-1 backed up as Tony scooped up his new minion, perhaps just a little disappointed that their progress was interrupted. "You sure? Well...if it'll give you a chance to clean up..."

And then Cal sighed, not quite exasperated, but perhaps getting there as Tony continued to needle him about something else that had long since past. "He doesn't have the chip anymore," he said a little more firmly than he'd meant to, a fact immediately realized and just as soon apologetic for by his softening expression. "...at that point when he and Obi-Wan met, he did, but they decided to see about taking care of it in Coruscant, when we were all there."

[in_extremis]

Maybe it was muscle memory, so Tony wasn't always aware that he was doing it, but he hadn't entirely meant to push Cal about Echo specifically this time. He wasn't even that aware that there was much to push, until Cal took that unexpected tone with him, which did seem to surprise both of them. Tony was learning a lot about how flappable the Jedi were today, and Echo was the obvious chink in the armor. They were both quiet for a beat after Cal made his defence, Tony pouting mildly and eyebrows raised, waiting to see if more of that edge was coming out, before he got tired of waiting. He loped closer, letting the robot slide down to hold against his hip where he wasn't between them when Tony ruffled Cal's hair and rocked up for a kiss to his temple.

"I'm not worried about Echo," was a lie, but closer to true than what Cal thought Tony was pressing him about. "I'm worried about the next guy waking up at that fountain who thinks its his personal mission to eradicate the planet of alien lifeforms. I'm worried about those ex-Jedi chasing you across the galaxy. I'm glad that we've got running water and a karaoke machine and a few painkillers, but I don't think we're prepared."

[out_of_order]

What was wearing on Cal was that the fixation seemed to be upon Echo, and he didn't see him as a liability. Echo was his friend, someone he trusted even before he'd had his chip removed. That the ARC Trooper didn't have to worry about something pushing him to suddenly turn on them without warning was a shared relief.

His gaze had fallen towards the mess-strewn floor with a sigh that kept him from frowning completely. By now he was at least a little more used to Tony's gestures of affection, the hair ruffle and the temple peck coaxing the mildest of smiles from him.

"...no, you're right. We don't know what to expect with every new person that gets brought in. I don't think we can prepare for that without starting to get paranoid at every single newcomer. That's going to get pretty exhausting, pretty fast."

[in_extremis]

Tony hadn't thought of it that way, pouting in consideration as he leaned over the bench to deposit the D.A.T.A. unit onto the scaffold where he could try to climb his way up, his legs better designed for this kind of traversal to get him to a watchful perch than scuttling around on the floor. In Tony's experience, he had more often been thankful for his paranoia rather than feeling overprepared, though he could maybe see where it had left him a little frayed around the edges.

"I don't like waiting for the worst to happen," he eventually said. "It could be too late by then." But it wasn't like they could have a contingency prepared for the vast range of possible threats the Agrii were evidently capable of inflicting upon them. How they had to deal with a baseline creep with a vendetta would not be the same as how they would have to deal with Thanos.

[out_of_order]

Cal gave a breathless laugh at that, releasing with it the tension that had built as he leaned a hip against the work bench. "Believe me, I don't like it either. But neither do I like living every day wondering when the other foot will fall."

He'd done that long enough, and while being forcefully driven from the place he'd come to exist in wasn't he most ideal way of breaking away from it, it had in its own way become freeing. It hadn't made him less cautious, but at the same time it did let him feel like he was finally able to stretch his metaphorical wings.

[in_extremis]

Maybe Echo was the better person to talk about this with anyway; he was the one always skulking around the city like he was looking for trouble. It definitely shouldn't have been Cal's problem, Tony realized, biting his lip with a nod of understanding, and he tried not to look too sheepish as he abruptly turned his attention back to the bench and busily dumped a container of scrap he pulled carelessly out from below it. Spreading the pieces that looked like they had come variably from a kitchen drawer to an industrial vacuum, Tony offered, "Come on, let's make a relay launcher." They might not actually need it, if the problem was only a power one, but they could definitely use a...launcher, and maybe Cal would show Tony how to use his tool as they worked.