Tony Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
in_extremis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2023-10-09 11:42 am
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2023-10-09 11:42 am
Sepsis
WHO: The Archivist, Captain America, the Wasp, and...Tony
WHERE: The Upside-Down, downtown Temba
WHAT: Tony checks out the gates, makes some mistakes
WHEN: Stranger Danger--AFTER the gates open, Oct 11-12th
WARNINGS: Event warnings (blood, mouth related body horror, sentient vines/tentacles, choking, 'animal' attacks), Tony warnings (alcoholism, suicidal ideation), Jon warnings (eye horror, no butt).
a. the library [for Jon]
Iron in the air could have explained the red skies, and the magnetic reaction. It could have even explained the curling, blackened plants around the foundation of the department store. Iron could be a poison. From above Tony came a warning cackle, making him glance up anxiously, searching for the beating wings of those things that had come to roost on the chimney of the forge, then decide he didn't have to wait to find out how many of them there were. He could get out of sight instead, and duck inside.
It seemed colder yet in the dark behind closed doors, and Tony scolded himself for not bringing a flashlight. He pulled his scarf up around his head for some comfort, tight to his ears and making his still carefully slow breathing sound like a wail that would draw the creatures straight to him. He held his breath, listening intently for any sign that he had been spotted, eyes straining in the low light to scan the abandoned shelves for any movement. It was just when he was deciding that he'd rather face some flying horror than the dark that he realized the crimson gleam reflecting so subtly off of tarnished and dusty cups and picture frames was not from some crack in the roof letting in the tainted sunlight.
There was a wound in the wall. Split through the stone and glowing, radiating its own sickly light, framed with slick, arterial tubes. It looked like an infection in the beams and plaster. Maybe it had started as a fracture from the earthquakes, but now it was a hole that should have let Tony see through to outside. Instead, it kept going.
It was even colder on the other side.
Almost everything else was the same, if Tony had to rationally quantify it, which of course he did in a running list constantly at the back of his mind while he moved. He knew exactly where to go, for example, to find a carefully packed bundle of survival equipment, including a flashlight to correct his earlier mistake, and cast the beam around the welcome centre to confirm it was the same dimensions, the same arrangement of burnt out lights, even the same camera mounted in the corner though it watched Tony with an unseeing eye. It was the infection that made any difference, mapping the city with those swollen arteries, tainting the air enough to make Tony wrap his scarf over his mouth as he slipped back through the square along the dry fountain, and choking out any sign of life. The trees were dead. The few people that Tony had expected to try to avoid as he made his way through the streets were gone. This city was empty.
To Tony, it was the library where this was the most evident. Jon's very presence that had become such an oppressive force that it had permeated the concrete slab was gone; a power so invasive that Tony's skin crawled the moment he crossed the threshold now leaving these halls feeling starkly empty and expansive. The walls were at least closer as he made is way down to the basement, intending to pass straight through to his workshop and the equipment inside. He paused at the door to the bedroom, his hesitation fractionally brief in his conviction that he was entirely alone, then picked his way carefully around the vines to climb into the hammock that hung there, abandoned.
The relief in the familiar comfort was so immediate and foundation deep that Tony considered he might have been dreaming. That this was a premonition, of what the city would be like after he finally succeeded, and gotten everyone home or on their way, and he was left to watch the city crumble on his own. He wouldn't be able to maintain the power grid, or the water processing alone; he probably couldn't manage the greenhouse, but a few plants to keep him alive enough to watch over the certain end of this miserable experiment. It wasn't so terrible, even alone, if he could be surrounded like this with the relics of the brief joy he had found here. He needed a drink.
The moment his eyes slitted open he saw the movement; a shimmer of dust knocked loose from the ceiling near the door. Tony kept still, watching its slow descent, feeling the anxiety ratchet slowly up his spine again until it was abruptly a taught, singing wire as the second one came; directly above him, it was easier to hear the distant thud that precipitated the shower of debris, and then the creak of the floorboards. Something had been watching his journey across the city, and it had caught up to him.
In that same room where the hammock barely swung with dying momentum, and simultaneously impossibly far away, the lights flickered and buzzed erratically. When they finally stopped, their faulty guttering jumped to the hall, dancing with the crackle of a live wire from one bulb to the next, making toward the stairs in a slow, waltzing rhythm. The lamp at the bottom of the staircase buzzed, pulsing with a held breath of anticipation, the light dim like the filaments were on the verge of burning out.
b. the garden [for Steve and Jan]
What had started as open, empty streets were becoming unavoidably populated. The beasts that roamed there must have felt similarly closed in, occasionally breaking in snarling scuffles between them, or bursting into cacophonies of Jurassic cries that left swarms in the sky scattering. More of them were going through those glowing gates, especially at night when the noises all seemed to swell and Tony could hear them through the door of his workshop. The distraction slowed his already pessimistic work, his shoulders tight and hair on end, listening for the first sound that came too close. He had to seal those wounds, stop the infection from spreading into the city that was still alive, and stop the tide of those creatures that poured out to terrorize whoever was on the other side. Nothing seemed to effect the torn walls, though. The closest Tony had managed so far was triggering the alarm that brought the snarling and screeching down on him, a jolt through the arteries like he was the virus that needed to be cleansed. The argument felt increasingly convincing.
What he didn't properly anticipate was the traffic moving in both directions. The creatures pouring out should have been an effective detriment to anyone considering going in, like some idiots. What he didn't expect to hear was a very human shout, the thumping and clattering not a feral chaos of teeth and nails in hot, quick strikes to gain territory. Tony's busy hands stilled as he strained to listen like he hadn't been the entire time, eyes up on the ceiling like he could make out some detail of this new configuration of fight through the boards. That was definitely a man. What kind of asshole had walked into this nightmare?
WHERE: The Upside-Down, downtown Temba
WHAT: Tony checks out the gates, makes some mistakes
WHEN: Stranger Danger--AFTER the gates open, Oct 11-12th
WARNINGS: Event warnings (blood, mouth related body horror, sentient vines/tentacles, choking, 'animal' attacks), Tony warnings (alcoholism, suicidal ideation), Jon warnings (eye horror, no butt).
a. the library [for Jon]
Iron in the air could have explained the red skies, and the magnetic reaction. It could have even explained the curling, blackened plants around the foundation of the department store. Iron could be a poison. From above Tony came a warning cackle, making him glance up anxiously, searching for the beating wings of those things that had come to roost on the chimney of the forge, then decide he didn't have to wait to find out how many of them there were. He could get out of sight instead, and duck inside.
It seemed colder yet in the dark behind closed doors, and Tony scolded himself for not bringing a flashlight. He pulled his scarf up around his head for some comfort, tight to his ears and making his still carefully slow breathing sound like a wail that would draw the creatures straight to him. He held his breath, listening intently for any sign that he had been spotted, eyes straining in the low light to scan the abandoned shelves for any movement. It was just when he was deciding that he'd rather face some flying horror than the dark that he realized the crimson gleam reflecting so subtly off of tarnished and dusty cups and picture frames was not from some crack in the roof letting in the tainted sunlight.
There was a wound in the wall. Split through the stone and glowing, radiating its own sickly light, framed with slick, arterial tubes. It looked like an infection in the beams and plaster. Maybe it had started as a fracture from the earthquakes, but now it was a hole that should have let Tony see through to outside. Instead, it kept going.
It was even colder on the other side.
Almost everything else was the same, if Tony had to rationally quantify it, which of course he did in a running list constantly at the back of his mind while he moved. He knew exactly where to go, for example, to find a carefully packed bundle of survival equipment, including a flashlight to correct his earlier mistake, and cast the beam around the welcome centre to confirm it was the same dimensions, the same arrangement of burnt out lights, even the same camera mounted in the corner though it watched Tony with an unseeing eye. It was the infection that made any difference, mapping the city with those swollen arteries, tainting the air enough to make Tony wrap his scarf over his mouth as he slipped back through the square along the dry fountain, and choking out any sign of life. The trees were dead. The few people that Tony had expected to try to avoid as he made his way through the streets were gone. This city was empty.
To Tony, it was the library where this was the most evident. Jon's very presence that had become such an oppressive force that it had permeated the concrete slab was gone; a power so invasive that Tony's skin crawled the moment he crossed the threshold now leaving these halls feeling starkly empty and expansive. The walls were at least closer as he made is way down to the basement, intending to pass straight through to his workshop and the equipment inside. He paused at the door to the bedroom, his hesitation fractionally brief in his conviction that he was entirely alone, then picked his way carefully around the vines to climb into the hammock that hung there, abandoned.
The relief in the familiar comfort was so immediate and foundation deep that Tony considered he might have been dreaming. That this was a premonition, of what the city would be like after he finally succeeded, and gotten everyone home or on their way, and he was left to watch the city crumble on his own. He wouldn't be able to maintain the power grid, or the water processing alone; he probably couldn't manage the greenhouse, but a few plants to keep him alive enough to watch over the certain end of this miserable experiment. It wasn't so terrible, even alone, if he could be surrounded like this with the relics of the brief joy he had found here. He needed a drink.
The moment his eyes slitted open he saw the movement; a shimmer of dust knocked loose from the ceiling near the door. Tony kept still, watching its slow descent, feeling the anxiety ratchet slowly up his spine again until it was abruptly a taught, singing wire as the second one came; directly above him, it was easier to hear the distant thud that precipitated the shower of debris, and then the creak of the floorboards. Something had been watching his journey across the city, and it had caught up to him.
In that same room where the hammock barely swung with dying momentum, and simultaneously impossibly far away, the lights flickered and buzzed erratically. When they finally stopped, their faulty guttering jumped to the hall, dancing with the crackle of a live wire from one bulb to the next, making toward the stairs in a slow, waltzing rhythm. The lamp at the bottom of the staircase buzzed, pulsing with a held breath of anticipation, the light dim like the filaments were on the verge of burning out.
b. the garden [for Steve and Jan]
What had started as open, empty streets were becoming unavoidably populated. The beasts that roamed there must have felt similarly closed in, occasionally breaking in snarling scuffles between them, or bursting into cacophonies of Jurassic cries that left swarms in the sky scattering. More of them were going through those glowing gates, especially at night when the noises all seemed to swell and Tony could hear them through the door of his workshop. The distraction slowed his already pessimistic work, his shoulders tight and hair on end, listening for the first sound that came too close. He had to seal those wounds, stop the infection from spreading into the city that was still alive, and stop the tide of those creatures that poured out to terrorize whoever was on the other side. Nothing seemed to effect the torn walls, though. The closest Tony had managed so far was triggering the alarm that brought the snarling and screeching down on him, a jolt through the arteries like he was the virus that needed to be cleansed. The argument felt increasingly convincing.
What he didn't properly anticipate was the traffic moving in both directions. The creatures pouring out should have been an effective detriment to anyone considering going in, like some idiots. What he didn't expect to hear was a very human shout, the thumping and clattering not a feral chaos of teeth and nails in hot, quick strikes to gain territory. Tony's busy hands stilled as he strained to listen like he hadn't been the entire time, eyes up on the ceiling like he could make out some detail of this new configuration of fight through the boards. That was definitely a man. What kind of asshole had walked into this nightmare?
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