revivalproject | Network Text

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.

"I know my Tony! I've been told so many times that you're not him, that you're not the same so logically I would be able to trust you and there's so--" He cuts himself off. Holds his hands up as if to stop the conversation before he could continue it. He slows the thoughts firing all over his programming until he can think properly again.

"You know what," it's said out loud, but not really directed at Tony. "Fuck this. Just fuck it, forget I even asked or whatever. If the goddamn aliens that brought us here fuck up my system, it doesn't matter. My goddamn hardware is already broken, pre-being dropped here and while being here so what's going to be any different about software?" There's a hollow laugh and he walks through what seems like the path of... stuff.

The hood of his garment gets pulled up, leaving only shadows and an almost orange glow with how quickly the light keeps flickering from red to yellow. "Fine, fuck you, I don't care if you think I'm an alien. I didn't deviate from assault to fucking please assholes like you--" But then that color goes to red and he stops.

The ranting and swearing were kind of York's baseline, so while Tony's lip raised anxiously, his hand slid down to hook behind his neck, considering this was probably a good thing. Not the broken part, or the part where it sounded like he was ready to give up, but the equalizing, that had to be the best case scenario from this interaction. Tony wasn't about to argue with York about how much he should care what Tony thinks.

Abruptly, he did interrupt, "Wait--," finally untangling himself to offer back the blueprints, because he didn't have to screw up every part of this deal. He was entirely unprepared for York to actually listen to that command, though, making him freeze with the papers held out, staring at York...waiting? "Your...thing...?" he said, because he knew he was supposed to be saying something, it just didn't matter as much what that was anymore as Tony stared at the android.

York stands there, eyes staring and unblinking for a moment. The power was redirecting to keep his structure up, but he knew it wasn't going to last long. He'd been careless, hadn't been paying attention to that in his HUD. It hadn't mattered, not in the face of Tony offering to help and then yanking that offer away. It almost felt like a betrayal, if he could understand what that particular thing felt like.

The movements are jerky as York looks to Tony, that red glow persistent. "Blueprints," he corrects, but it wouldn't matter. "...Sorry- P̧͘o̴we̢r̴̡̕-̀-́̕͜" and that's all he gets out. Just those three words before his eyes shut and the android collapses against the floor. That red glow softens and turns back to gold.

It was such an unnatural movement that Tony wasn't prepared for it, even searching as he was to diagnose why York was looking at him like that. He was moving the moment York began to pitch, though, papers scattering across the floor and the storage device bouncing a nagging rhythm in the otherwise strange quiet of the workshop.

It wasn't long before he had to power all of the computers back on, quickly figuring out that he couldn't just keep guessing and needed to check the logs for what he might have done, then try every possible scan. Even with all of that information, it was difficult to accept that it really was just power, like York had said, and hours later Tony was still staring at the inert android, trying to think through the by now metronomic chant drink drink drink drink. York had been shockingly easy to pick up, and was laid out now on one of those tables where all of the other projects had been carelessly shoved aside onto the floor.

He had to fix something. The part that Dustin had left behind was somewhere in this mess, and plenty of clattering and crashing later, Tony was carefully extracting the damage that he was supposed to have cleaned a decade ago, and talking either the part or York through the installation of his new auditory processor. Tony didn't really need either to answer to have plenty to say about it, and the more sound he made, the easier it was to think.

His stasis allows him to quietly recuperate, looking more like the teenager his creator wanted him to be. He lays inert, the yellow glow still there and his hardware staying only a little warm despite the clothes he chose.

Inert as he was, it made it very easy for Tony to press and pull the panel that had opened that day in the hospital. If anything, York was more vulnerable like this than he had been with the orb in hand. What good was software when someone could disassemble his hardware while he was in sleep mode? The part seems to click into place like it was made just right, but it won't be clear if it's worked or not until he wakes up.

Which he does, about an hour later, with the gold shifting into teal. "... The fuck?" God, he even sounds tired, too. A feature, not a bug. "Shit. I fell into my stasis, didn't I?... Goddamnit."

Now Tony was the one looking uncomfortably wide-eyed and intent, exhausted and jittery after being stuck in a painful loop for so long. He came sliding across the floor on a rolling chair from a facing worktop, scanning York closely and only remembering to include a projection alongside him in that shimmering, cool light after a beat, for York to see what he was (or wasn't) picking up on. Everything seemed to be running fine, or the same as it was when York first stepped in here. "I stressed your systems," Tony thought he had to explain. What he apparently didn't think he had to explain was the malleable circle of metal he held up expectantly, the only hint his gaze dropping down toward York's hand with a nod of encouragement. It wasn't the most beautiful thing he had ever made, he'd have had to leave to go to the forge for proper fabrication, but he did reliably make things that worked. "It'll vibrate when you're getting low."

"You didn't." Tony might've added to it, but he wasn't the actual cause of it. "My power regulator is broken and I wasn't paying attention."

Going over the information presented to him when Tony scans him, and his own internal one, he had plenty of power to get back to the hotel after awhile. However, on both of their scans, an error pops up where the audio piece was installed.

He blinks at Tony, first at the metallic circle given to him, then at the man himself. "Did... you fix that audio piece while I was asleep?" He gives the little bracelet some little pushes to see how it gave under pressure.

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