revivalproject | Network Text

Even if Tony's short text, "Can be," wasn't particularly encouraging, the unmistakable sound of his engines rocketing overhead were easy enough to follow as they continued to echo through the hollow streets well after he landed in the compacted garden of the library. The maze was an imprint by then, some hedges still standing but low and skeletal, most torn out to control the burst of wild growth, leaving scars of dry earth tracking through the papery grass. In the heat, most of the plants had grown yellow and brittle, and Tony lingered where he landed with the grass rustling noisily around his calves with every breeze, considering what was once a carefully cultivated garden that had been left to languish. A pair of mothcats were the brightest spots of green, and they were very still, coiled in the cover of shade they could find, eyes closed and eyes turned up and alert. He didn't know if he could do anything about it now. He had killed more plants than he kept. Abruptly, he tore off his helmet, turned toward the crumbling steps that carried him down to the basement door, where he could prop it open and send the disassembling pieces of the armor ahead to leave him waiting there in the shade where the earth was a little more damp and cool under his bare feet.

There's no way around it, but he's nervous. York hates that simulated feeling. Like there's too many little jolts in his system making him want to turn and run. It's way too hot for his system to be wearing the hoodie, but he does and makes the quick walk into the library and through it to get outside. The blueprints are carefully folded inside of his hoodie pocket.

He does take a moment to... admire the mothcats, not certain if they would allow him to pet them during their snooze.

The android heads through the tall grass and down into the shop. The nerves still light through his system. York lingers just inside of the door, letting it swing shut behind him. No sense in letting out any cool air with this heat.

"...Tony?" Because saying the name 'Stark' would feel weird since they had the same last name.

The hallway running under the library connecting it to the school was dark without the sunlight streaming in behind York, and cool only in the way the shade as cool for the mothcats. Once the air settled it hardly mattered, hanging heavily with the humidity. From one end of the hall, the darkness seemed to press closer; an open, watchful void.

At the other, a door suddenly opened, and with it a spike of blue light and a practically frosty gust that spread across the floor as Tony answered, "Yeah-huh." He leaned against the frame very casually for someone who seemed to be pulling the rag between his fingers into a threadbare braid, and tipped his head expectantly before he cautioned, "If you break something, I'll repurpose you into a litter box." Then he was slipping back into the shop.

Inside was a mess. Several surfaces covered with parts and tools couldn't contain the amount of projects, and they scattered across the floor. The Iron Man seemed to have cut a pathway through them and stood, looming at the far end of the space. What was missing was any obvious interface for the towers that lined the wall behind the armour, all very active with flickering lights and whirring fans. It wasn't exactly a place that anyone else was expected to be able to navigate.

At least down here, it's cooler. The dim lighting of the the corridor makes the glow on his chin more prominent, like someone holding up a buttercup flower to see if it glows yellow. His HUD picks up the humidity level, but nothing more, and York's not paying attention to it.

Looking to where the dark area of the hall is, he can feel that same pressing sensation like he did that day he entered the library without permission. It's so far and yet it still gives off his aura of pressure that feel like his hardware is going to give.

It's when Tony's voice cuts through that, does the android look at him. He starts towards the human, shoving his hands in his hoodie pouch. "Yeah right. Empty threats mean nothing to me." But there's that paranoid part of him that knows that it's not an empty threat.

Tony did have the ability to take him apart and repurpose him.

He stands at the doorway, making it look like he's observing when he's just steeling his program from the simulated nervousness. It didn't really look like he could walk through anyways. "I see the maid hasn't been by in awhile. You scare her off?"

The only beat Tony took was a breath as he swung around to lean against the cabinets, drawing his arms up tight enough around his chest to press that breath back out as an airy laugh as he returned, "'Course not. Knocked her up. Come on, you're getting your tabloids mixed up, I've got a brand to maintain here. Go upstairs for the haunted house, the librarian's happy to oblige."

The longer York just stood there at the threshold, the more Tony's fingers dug into his own sides, forcing himself to watch this breach. It was okay, Jocasta had been allowed in the shop back home, and...okay, that hadn't worked out for her. Abruptly, with the tiniest flick of Tony's wrist, the Iron Man that had been standing nearby disassembled and collapsed into a neat stack.

"No, rather not deal with that shitty creepiness again." He didn't like it the first time, so he's not going to willingly go back to it. York at least has the manners to close the door behind him, feeling his hardware trembling. He deletes that random command and looks to Tony.

Just in time for the red and gold suit to dissemble and form into a neat stack nearby. York jumps, he can't stop the reaction, before steeling his face and going over as he pretends like that didn't happen. Like the sudden movement hadn't effected him.

He doesn't know where to really go, so he just goes over to Tony, hands clenching and hidden in his hoodie pouch again. "People tried to talk me out of coming here I hope you know. But I'm giving you a chance and hoping you don't decide to stab a metaphorical knife into my system."

Being overtly jumpy around Tony was an escalation that Tony had attributed to the hospital, or the frustration with Dustin as they had come in, so it was hard for him to pinpoint when exactly that had started and what he might have done. There were a suite of options. Enough that he didn't have to be told that York was being warned off, though it made him purse his lips with a steady stare on York as he gave a bare nod of acknowledgement. After an expectant pause, Tony pressed, "Why?," a pointed, open question, letting York reveal which interpretation he thought was most relevant. Why did no one else want him to come, why did he do it anyway, why did he think he was going to be shanked, why did Tony deserve to feel this guilty.

York stands before Tony, looking up at the man through the dark hair and gaze not entirely readable. "Because they weren't sure if you were trustworthy enough to do this, if it was a reasonable thing to do via security measures. I had two people point blank ask me if this was even a safe idea."

The hands finally come out of his pockets to flap uselessly out a bit and back down to his sides. "But I know someone like Dustin wouldn't have asked you for help if you couldn't fucking do it, and if you're anything like my Tony, I know you have the brains to do it and not be a dick about." But the downside was that the Tony York knows from his world is a dick so there's part of that programming that thinks this Tony will be the same.

York is being human like and hoping that part is wrong.

"But if the aliens here can fuck around with my programming enough to make sleep and have people dreamwalk into my code, then I need a backup in case they try to something hella malicious." Lines of 'what ifs' roll through his mind. What if they reset him, what if they fully deprogrammed him, what if they just shut him off completely, what if what if what if—

The teal light glowing under the hoodie flickers into gold as he starts to get stuck, then starts to flicker and threaten that red error color.

Like the blueprints, it would have been a much safer idea if no one else knew about it. Maybe that was more effective for Tony, though, who wasn't nearly as likely as an android to have a backup copy somewhere, so they would have to multiply their secrecy in other areas, like where exactly that backup might be. All of the oscillating servers in Tony's workshop would have been very obvious. It would take some sort of futurist to plan around that.

Something that Tony was sure Dustin didn't think he was capable of, so York and Tony were going to have to agree to disagree about that kid's motives. Arguing about it seemed a lot less important as Tony's focus was diverted to that flicker of colour at York's collar. "Here," he said suddenly, finally untangling from his own guarded hug around himself to pluck up one of the myriad of scrap parts from the counter by his hip. It was a polished, silvery ball that fit into his palm, ringed in bands so subtle they might have been a gentle, oblong slope without attentive scrutiny. "The fit may be off. It was supposed to be for me. We can do some tailoring."

York's looping is interrupted by Tony, again, when the man starts rummaging through the scrap on the closest surface. He takes what's offered, the color steady into a gold light as he inspects the ball.

A scan doesn't give him much to work with, but it does its job - it gets the android out of his what-if loop. "You're helping me, so no need to tailor shit for me." Turning to the table, he carefully pushes some of the scrap away from the edge and hoists himself up. The blueprints come out with a soft crinkling sound, and he holds them out. They're folded up very carefully for the trip, even though there was no running involved.

The ball was cool and heavy, densely designed, and inert. Something York wasn't really supposed to think twice about if he found himself in this room alone. Tony took his payment for it with a grace that would have Pepper cutting him a glare, immediately unfolding the pages to start scanning them. As he did, he pointed out, "No, I think we do, if that's what I'm helping you with." If York's scans couldn't pick up the details, they were suddenly there helpfully before his eyes, a shimmering projection from somewhere above them. Storage capacity, processing power, and a cascading list of potential failure points and redundancies.

The blueprints are very detailed, layers to help indicate the various layers to the system, like one would use to look at a house. Skin meshes, neural networks, vital synthetic organs. It's all there, laid out in an organized fashion for Tony.

The android snorts at the little quip retorted with, and he look at the projection of of data about the device in his hand. "Whoa." A quiet sound of awe as he looks over what's given to him.

He sets the device aside and looks at Tony. "Why do you want to help me anyways? Thought you didn't even fucking like me." A hand moves through some of the other things on the table. A movement that's supposed to be just to fidgeting, but he picks up other little trinkets. A little fidget square. A little bracelet like piece that was made with sturdy orbs that stretched in and out. Bracer looking devices made of a smooth metal. All interesting shit.

With all of those details in hand, the noise York made as he realized what he was holding felt surprising, and Tony had to cut a sidelong look his way just to make sure it wasn't sarcastic even as his projections expanded to start sketching out those same blueprints alongside his inventory list. Compared to the design that was blowing up life-size before them, Tony's little device was basically a USB stick. The list collapsed, letters reforming into the shape of the little, silver ball, its rings expanded like they revolved around a planet instead and the gravity that gripped them plucked details from the developing blueprint--hardware compatibility, necessary storage partition.

Maybe York's question was fair, but his follow up had Tony's head tilting and answering with a question, "Does that matter?" Maybe, too, the wrong person to ask. If Tony had given York any reason to like him, it might have saved him a couple of bruises. "You need help. I have the capability. It's a more worthwhile application than what I was going to do with it."

Definitely not sarcastic. He hasn't met a lot of people with... well, advanced technology like the android, so finding it in a place like this is surprising. The other things he finds isn't interesting enough, so he picks up the original item instead to watch it light up again.

"It probably should. You, for some fucking reason, think I work with the aliens that brought us here, right? I don't know why. I'm from Detroit - that place isn't that fucking weird. I figured that, coupled with me being a downright asshole at the feast didn't really make good impressions to go with that." Thinking he was one of the Agrii probably had upset York enough to have that bad behavior and not understanding how to channel it in a healthy way.

The orb gets turned over in his hands, the color from earlier flickering back into a calm teal again. It flickers back to gold as it seems to connect with the sensors in his hands this time, because this time he holds it actually in his palms instead of his fingers.

York sits up a little straighter, making that gold color more prominent without being hunched over.

"𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍."

Edited 2023-07-29 21:50 (UTC)

They were not having the same argument, making Tony properly lower the pages to leave them braced against his lap so he could actually turn his face toward York searchingly, eyebrow raised and tongue held between his teeth as he worked out what track they were supposed to be on. It didn't seem to be the helping part York was so concerned about. In fact, surprising Tony enough that his intent stare was diverted and eyebrows raised, he was taking it upon himself to carry on with that part, the storage device equalizing in his palms as its rings spun up. "Do you want me to dislike you?" he still managed to press, swiping all of the projections before them away in one movement, sending them scattering across the floor like sparks. He had to bring up his own authorization navigation for the brain backup before it halted and self-destructed.

When Tony looks to him, York lifts his head. The golden glow is steady, and he just watches Tony. He doesn't move, doesn't even look to the sparks falling like a meteor shower against the floor. York just looks at Tony.

"𝚅𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖." It's the most android York's ever sounded like, because apparently even deviancy couldn't get away from the system's perceived creator standing before him.

That was unsettling. Just the absence of York's glaring or brooding was unfamiliar enough that Tony went, "Uh...," and the persistent blankness had his lip raising uncomfortably. He definitely preferred the confrontation.

His voice was recognized?

The amount of control that York was handing him suddenly tightened in his chest like a vise, a spike of pain strong enough that Tony abruptly said, "No," and snatched the storage device out of York's hands, "Stop that." The last thing he should have been was in control, that was the problem, everyone else had already told York this was a bad idea. "Enable...kicky hooligan mode."

Well his system was trying to hook up to it, but there were security measures in place! Ways to keep Cyberlife out in case they managed to get their hands on a Stark-built android. Even with deviancy, the protocols were still in place, deep in his system and locked off from him.

He blinks up at Tony as the device is snatched away. He frowns, not even realizing what the hell even happened. "What gives?! I thought you were going to help me, doesn't that orb do something?" While it wasn't an actual command that was enabled, the android was back to being his little kicky hooligan self.

The moment York's mouth was settled back into that familiar line of frustration, Tony was ready to launch, talking over him, "I've thought about it, and you're right, you probably should listen to everybody else, you don't have any reason to trust me, or this, you should, listen, honestly, do a quick diagnostics check the second you're out of here, because you shouldn't have even come in." It had gone very quiet. A constant background hum was suddenly gone, a void of sound, and no projections of particles of them remained.

"What the hell?!" he finally starts with as Tony starts rambling. Rambling about how he shouldn't have come, or trust Tony, or anything. The human was the loudest in the room, with everything that had been an ambient noise in the background so quiet.

He pushes himself off of the table, completely fine despite the way he had 'behaved' with the orb trying to connect. "First you were totally on board helping me and now you're kicking me out? What the fuck?"

"Yeah, it's--I told you, I thought about it," was Tony's very convincing retort, arm barred across his chest again where he could hold the device against his ribs, and prop the other hand up to tap at his temple, looking equal part irritably impatient that he had to explain something again, and very aware that it was not an effective argument. Unfortunately, what was actually the fuck was...an ongoing problem, and a multifaceted one that had Tony's tapping finger dragging across his face to scrub a knuckle into his eye like he could scratch out some of that problem restlessly. It at least kept his gaze averted as he attempted to very reluctantly articulate, "Okay, listen, here's the thing, and I'm not saying whether I agree with the premise, so, but--If I should believe you, Detroit, whatever, then that means the part about your...dad is true, the parts where he's a genius and he can fix this, okay, but then also the parts where you're better off not in his shop. Not...here."

York understands anger and frustration. But this one is new, like the anger is more. And seeing Tony look just as irritated at him just fuels that more. He watches the human explain himself before huffing out air that cools his system.

"What the fuck are you talking about? About how you and my creator in my world are fucking similar? Or the problem where you think I working with the aliens here somehow? Because that one doesn't even fucking make any sense. Hell, if we had started the backup, you'd probably be able to see some of the coding put in place by my dad, fucker."

The tapping and rubbing became pinching his nose, eyes squeezed shut as Tony tried to produce the right sequence of words that York would actually hear, that for once were actually worth listening to, about how he shouldn't be listening to Tony. What a nightmare.

"And if he was standing here right now," Tony ventured, drawing out of his pinch to brace his temple in his hand again, eyes still narrowed like the light was too bright, "telling you he was just going to hook this new thing up, take a seat, would you let him do it?"

"Of course not, because I've experienced him doing that before in my world. Where he had the full technology to do that. Are you telling me you have that sort of power here?" That finally dawns on him that maybe he is sitting in the same room that has the same power. He didn't know what Tony was capable of, didn't know if he'd go in to wreck York's system or not.

He's silent for a long moment. "...Then why even offer to fucking help in the first place? That's such a dick move, I hope you know that."

It didn't seem all that difficult to Tony to interface with what York had going on, the kid had just offered with that blank stare, so he looked baffled by this suggested limitation even as his hand splayed out as if to say, see, York didn't even have to think about it. Of course not.

The last thing Tony wanted was to earn himself another kick for insisting it didn't sound like such a bad idea when York was just an Agrii plant to make him hate himself, before his voice was recognized by York's system. Instead, he sighed, "Yeah, that's kind of my thing," because he would have found a way to dick it up under any circumstances; the other good reason York shouldn't have been here. "You already knew that." Better than anyone.

>>>action

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