revivalproject

Entry tags:

Shock

WHO: Tony, Cayde, Jan, Cap
WHERE: In the Tembubble
WHAT: Tony's trying to fix some cameras, but keeps running into curiosities
WHEN: During the mermay event
WARNINGS: Everyone being fish-people and potentially doing offputting creature things.

A natural affinity for electric currents didn't always translate to reliable craftsmanship. Only one camera in the city square remained alert, watching Tony curiously as he held one of its brethren, perched together on the roof of the hotel where they were close to the sun and could overlook the gently sifting sand below. DATA bubbled occasionally with a burst of jetstream to keep himself stable, but Tony's windingly long tail draped down the facade of the building to twine into the open windows and root him while he worked. It was so smooth and matte black that it could have disappeared into the covered murk inside, but for the occasional spark that arced across it while Tony concentrated, casting small glints into the darkened rooms below. That leathery hide spreading up his body only made the tail look dangerously longer yet, snakelike even on his arms up to his elbows like he had been dipped in ink. Only flecks of yellow on his palms and the softest slope of his belly broke up that subtle colour, and the scars that stood out on his scalpel delicate hands. They were mostly faded burns and nicks, and none so starkly white as the perfect rings around several of his sharp fingers. Probably because he used them to work his way into the broken camera, forgoing any more cumbersome tools, and barely flinched when the device sparked and left the water smelling burnt. He had clearly taken more care with his unblemished tail, maybe thanks to the sheer ripple of his single, silken fin that traced a sensitive line straight down his front to his pointed tip. Even a bubble breaking from between the brickwork near it had his tail flinching away to loop again restlessly. His only scales were as synthetic as the broken camera, flashing gold covering him from chest to jaw, the edges precise, minuscule hexagons where the nanoweb blended along his skin.

"This one's fried," he murmured to DATA, who dutifully recorded the state of the final camera in the area. "The glass needs to be recast, too, just like the others. Can probably salvage the case, but..." He had ejected a computer chip, warped to itself like the device had overclocked and burst from the inside out. This was going to take some time, and the glass was going to take the forge which--...Donnie wasn't there anymore. Tony pursed his lips, the room below lighting up in a pop like a camera flash, and leaned over DATA with a gentle brush over its top like Tony was stroking his head with a free hand. "Guess that's not a problem," he mumbled, to the blank stare of the robot.

a. the outpost [cayde??]
A lobster clung to the side of the tower from which Echo had once set himself to guard over this city. As it slowly lifted a pointed leg to lodge into the next stone, so did DATA, and they watched each other intently in their measured, sideways ascent. Inside, in the cooler water and only the sunlight lingering by the windows to see by, Tony turned slowly in place, floating bonelessly. He hadn't made it to the forge. He could see it easily as he swam overhead, feeling dread slowly tighten around his heart. Glancing down at the outpost made that dread feel like a stone, dragging him down and impossible to get his arms around. He might have stayed there in the sand, until he found he was staring at the curious line held taut between the outpost and the clock tower, and frowned. It was enough to send him swimming inside, slowly making his way up the way his robot did on the exterior, and was distracted once more as he found the remnants of a cozy corner long abandoned. He had to shake himself back into focus, and by the time he finally made it to where that line was mounted into the wall, he was holding a limp, hurriedly stitched stuffed animal, its tiny limbs bright blooms of colour drifting from between his black fingers. With the other hand, he strummed curiously on the wire, watching the vibration ripple and letting his gaze roll across to the clock tower like he could see that turbulence cross the open stretch of water.

b. a much deeper pool [jan???]
The forge would have to wait. A later project, further along in the schedule. It would be pointless, after all, to do all of that work without solving the cause of the disruption. Talking directly to Billy was out of the question, too; a distraction really, and he didn't deserve to feel interrogated, he needed some time. No, Tony would have to go to where he understood the source was. Even several feet above the wide, black mouth of the mine, the water was cold. He stared down into it, waiting for movement, and starting to shiver, expecting tentacles to unfurl from the rocky sides, pull him in, hold him down until the sun was a pinhole high above him. He went darting back to the ledge of the hole, where a sticky residue remained, staining the rock in drips and keeping him circling it to avoid touching the discoloration. It had been intended to keep the threat contained, he vaguely recalled. That didn't explain the pitons he found driven into the stone, both on the ground and barely hidden by the sand, and the wall inside the pit. He had to dig his fingers into the ground to try to work one free, throwing bolts of static into the water around him while he hauled up on the rusting metal. At the edge of the pit, a pair of funfronds floated up out of the darkness, watching curiously and flipping energetically at each other.

c. the civic centre [steve???]
Tony's tail was a black banner, ribboning through the water over the roofs of Temba for DATA to track and try his best to scuttle after through the purple streets. Tony swam with the piton clutched in one hand, looking like he moved with confident aim, and feeling entirely the opposite. Who was he supposed to ask? If Jon knew what it was doing out there by the mine, would he think Tony had just been out looking for an excuse to talk to him? Was Tony out looking for an excuse to talk to him? In that case, he should have been collecting flowers, about ten hours ago to accumulate a bouquet that neared big enough to justify himself. He slowed over the greenhouse, peering down through the glass and feeling reluctant to go inside even if it would help make up for the lost time. Cutting any flowers from there had felt like a violation ever since Lauri-Ell had been so gently intent on correcting the one time he had made that mistake. In his minds eye, she practically glowed, blue skin that should have melted into the water instead shining like the colours vibrated in conflict. Tony's focus darted toward the civic centre then, only for his brow to furrow with a new question, that strange image of Lauri-Ell fading. The answers weren't any more forthcoming the closer he got, and still nothing as he sank into the strange bowl of the pool on the roof of the centre. It was half filled with purple sand, and teeming with lobsters, more secure up here than on the ground, but it didn't exactly look like a lobster sanctuary. Tony's free hand and a loop of his tail wound around a ladder bolted to its side. To help the lobsters? One of them pushed up from the sand and helicoptered its way out of the depth of the pool, onto the roof, as if to prove otherwise.

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In Tony's experience, most of what Cayde did was lounging, and occasionally running away from trouble, so he looked skeptical again, and expectant for Cayde to come to the same conclusion. When he didn't volunteer it for himself fast enough, Tony goaded, "I've seen Jon holding a gun more often than you. He might be better at it, for all I know." As long as this puzzle was looking like it might remain a mystery, teasing Cayde into shooting something might have been more fun. In the meantime, he floated his way up to hook an arm over the wire instead, half-heartedly lifting the stuffed animal like he thought they might be two parts of a puzzle, and abandoning that thought quickly. It did make some kind of sense that it would be for Omega, but the purpose was still elusive. And Tony had to glance back to where it appeared to be mounted in Cayde's house, then slide his gaze slowly back over to his friend, eyebrow raised. If Cayde was bluffing, he could have at least figured out a lie.

No bubbles were emitted with the sound of the snort he made, but Cayde still stubbornly refused to acknowledge that he tended to loiter about more often than not. But he was out and about every chance he could get- it wasn't his fault things were just boring around here.

"The only thing Jon's ever shot is me," he continued, waving a hand. He couldn't quite remember the when of it, but he was quite certain he'd been targeted more than once.

His attention had gone back to the line itself by the time Tony was looking back at him from his own study of the thing, the Exo swimming up to trace it back to the top of his tower. It was secured well enough, a deliberate placement. It should be, he thought, because he'd tied the thing. But...why? He cocked his head, squinting back across where he could barely make it out against everything else, only marked for where Tony clung to it.

"Weird, right?"

This wasn't helping. Cayde was committed to his bluff, if that's what it was, so Tony wasn't going to be getting any answers out of him. He hauled on the chord one more time experimentally, testing its tension, trying to decide if it was more likely to be a defensive or a domestic installation and not finding strong evidence for either case. Instead, he tucked the toy he carried against his chest and drifted a little cautiously Cayde's way, keeping his distance because he pushed, "That's bad. Not a hole in you. You must be terrible, then."

Well, that wasn't much help. Cayde was already bored with the line and had moved past that puzzle, mentally. He turned again, looking around for any other things that might stick out as strange because he'd have thought he knew everything about the clock tower he'd claimed.

"Uh, I think you have it backwards because from that perspective Jon's clearly the one who isn't that great with a shot," he replied dismissively, folding his arms behind his head as he gave a kick of his tail to send him drifting along lazily back towards the tower's base.

And this wasn't working. Tony pursed his lips, letting himself slouch over the mystery line, arms and tail drooping to sway in the current, and toothlessly muttered, "Yeah, and I just said he's better'n you, keep up." Dangling off of the wire wasn't a particularly good vantage point as Cayde sunk lower, and Tony frowned, hitching himself up over it a little more to try to watch where Cayde was going, but at the least it was clearly away from explaining the line. Reluctantly, Tony glanced back toward Echo's outpost, and decided he didn't really want to go back in there if he didn't at least have a theory, and lifted the toy to tell it, "Guess you're coming with me."

"What's got your scales all in a bunch?" the Exo drawled as he continued to float along. He finally turned about in a neat little twist, every little filament following through and on down to his tail tip as he faced the way he was going. "You want me to use you for target practice that bad?" He was pretty sure Jon would have objections to that. Jon didn't seem to approve of their brand of fun in general.

The satisfaction of finally getting some response out of Cayde was dampened by the very intrusive acknowledgement of his mood, making Tony pout in return, which didn't do anything to manage that perception. He finally slid off of the line to follow a little warily, not sure if he was actually chasing or that complaint was an invitation. He couldn't just not argue, though, and insisted, "I'm saying I don't think you could hit the Hulk standing still." He spread his arms, welcoming Cayde's poor aim, unconcerned unless Cayde had any proof otherwise.

Cayde paused, pulling up from his swim as he glanced back at Tony. He doubled back, just as casually as he'd gone, a loose smirk on his features.

"We could make it a contest, invite Jon, 'cept he'd probably still somehow end up shooting me or yelling at us," he noted after some consideration, propping a fist beneath his chin. He tipped his head again as he eyed his eely buddy.

"What's really on your mind, chief?"

As easy as Cayde's return was, it still had Tony swaying back cautiously and he had to make up for it by lifting his chin to take the punch like a man. Instead, Cayde hit him with something much worse, and Tony had to insist, "What? Nothing. Everything's fine, always." Then, quickly, "We know Jon can't shoot and will yell, historical evidence, barely a contest. You, though, I think you want Wesker to be the one to deal with that thing living in the towers. He's got a whole plan. You've got a chicken."

The Exo made a show of an exaggerated sigh, coming around just enough to let himself remain suspended upside-down over Tony. Typical answers, always deflecting.

"Hey now, who says we need to deal with it? Why're we bringing up Wesker anyway, how'd he get involved in this picture unless you know something I don't."

The answer to both questions was, "He seems to think so," while Tony flicked a finger toward the tall buildings. "First time we met, he was drawing all over the walls over there, trying to track it or something. Maybe he was just trying to get a date, he did put on a whole macho display, I don't know, you should look into it before he's got eggs down there."

"Huh, didn't know you guys were buddy-buddy," Cayde grinned. "I don't know what eggs have to do with anything though- you still on that baby-train?" That conversation- their first conversation...bits were fuzzy, like the when and where of it but some points still left clear impressions. Tony was a master of making an impression.

The impression he had immediately made on Wesker was not exactly 'buddy-buddy', so he tipped his head with a grimace and was eager to move on quickly. Not that Cayde seemed to be listening again anyway, making Tony's shoulders drop with the strike out defeat. "Yeah, no takers yet," he muttered, "offer's still available. You're going to have to work out your flower thing, though, it can't be cars and islands every time I've got an apology to make."

Yeah, he figured as much. Wesker wasn't exactly a scintillating personality. Cayde smothered a laugh at Tony's expression.

"Doesn't it get exhausting trying to plan ahead for apologies? That just suggests you're going to make a mistake," he said as he started to angle in the direction of the Towers where his bar was.

Less cautiously, drawn along by the question, Tony trailed after him this time, looking slightly baffled that he didn't think there was going to be mistakes. It couldn't just be Tony who could see it coming, but then he could grandly answer, "I'm a futurist," free hand out with a flourish for this incredible power of perception. More honestly, he added, "And an asshole." It didn't take clairvoyance to know he was going to make some bitter mistakes, the evidence was printed all over him where Cayde gleamed without a scratch. "Not all of us are built so perfectly," he said.

"Sounds too pessimistic," Cayde said to the first, and to the addendum he laughed.

"Pff, you only say that because Sundance fixes me up pretty good if I ever get mangled," he said, waving a hand. "Had my arm shot off. Broke both my..." He drifted off, pausing even in his swim to float along as he frowned in thought. "Broke what now..." he muttered as he stroked his chin.

Realistic was more accurate, but this time Tony didn't argue except for an unconvinced shrug, because he would rather be the one planning for the worst. He preferred Cayde as the optimist. He also preferred Cayde not getting distracted in the middle of a sentence, and as he caught up with the Exo while he literally drifted off, Tony glanced around to try to spot what had snagged his focus so easily. That was supposed to be Tony's. A little too loudly, and with a dramatic toss of his head, he insisted, "You didn't shoot your own arm off." Then reconsidered, found that image unfortunately vivid, and had to ask, "Did you shoot your own arm off?"

"What- no! It got shot off when we were taking back the city, back home. Which kind of makes it hard to do what you were supposed to be doing and shoot at the enemy."

Cayde squinted off into the depths as though he'd find the answer there, his optics fixating upon his shimmery tail. He gave it an experimental flick.

"So. I remember there was a time me and a buddy of mine were at a funeral that just kept going on forever. And then there was a canyon or something, and I bet him I could...cross it? That was the big thing, although I'm having trouble trying to remember why that would be so difficult. I know I broke something doing it too... But I won the bet!"

"Listen, that's just doing your job, that's not an apology situation, unless you promised the arm to someone else..." Tony started to argue, but Cayde was going somewhere else again, and Tony tried to follow his gaze this time, flipping onto his back as well and mostly finding himself just admiring Cayde's craftsmanship. Playing dangerous games at a funeral, that might have been something to send someone a bouquet about, although this nagging thing about breaking something remained opaque. "Hearts?" Tony suggested.

The Exo flashed a quick smirk at that before he shook his head. "No, no, something more physical. There's like..." His features scrunched up in a vague look of distaste. "Something foggy about the details. I can remember most everything else about what happened just fine, but then there's just this thing that's nagging at me and it's kind of annoying."

He frowned, coming up again before pointing back at the clock tower. "Was like that when I was trying to figure out what that line was for. Because I'm pretty sure I put it up, but...why? There was a reason, right?"

Either Cayde as building toward an appreciatively elaborate prank, or Tony had to start to believe he really wasn't lying when he said he didn't know what the line was for. That sensation of feeling like Tony really should have known could be rationally explained by a frustration with himself, feeling like he was supposed to know everything, but Cayde's struggle to describe this strange gap was relatable enough that Tony hesitated, watching the clock tower like he expected the answer to bloom out of it. Then he was flipping over and swimming a tight circle around Cayde, arguing, "You said you forget stuff when you--...reboot." That was a neat enough explanation, except for the part where Tony had completely missed that he was talking to Cayde-7 now, and his anxious circles frayed with static even as he insisted, "Must have been for something deadly. Clotheslined Jon with it and he obliterated you."

That got an immediate scowl. "If I got rebooted I probably wouldn't even be talking to you like this. Reboots are a clean slate."

He did have to laugh at the suggestion of clotheslining Jon. The image was kind of funny. "I wish, but I think..." Here his expression twisted again. "Omega had fun with it...? Then again she probably would have enjoyed clotheslining some unsuspecting person."

Tony had to bring the toy he still carried to his heart to clutch it with both hands, wounded even as he tried to formulate his argument. "If I had to do it all over again, I'd still be your friend, every time," he said. Was that pathetic? Maybe, quick: "We could check your software. Maybe you picked up a bug. Probably have to take your head apart, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Cayde looked over at Tony again, expression somehow softening, if just for a second. Couldn't be mushy here; he tempered the look with his trademark lopsided grin. "I know." Was that helping? He didn't linger, quick to move on with Tony's shifting gears.

"Is it me though? I mean, you remember right? I'm sure we were all in on it, with this line thing. And then Jon got mad for some reason..."

It felt threatening then, to look back at the clock tower and consider the line, like Tony was challenging a predator that was going to strike if he held eye contact for too long. Of course he remembered that, down to Echo's reliably steely expression, and the anxiety about what felt then like Cayde's very imminent mortality. Not because of the line, but that was why Tony was... "He was worried about me," he said. "He was going to cut it down." That did not help. Was he starting to panic? This was not a good place to panic. He looked to Cayde desperately, hands up without something to grasp to fix this hole in his brain.

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