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)
revivalproject2025-06-20 12:29 pm
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2025-06-20 12:29 pm
Actuation
WHO: Tony and open
WHERE: Temba civics centre and hospital
WHAT: Figuring out what everyone else wants, figuring out how to stop wanting
WHEN: After the return from haunted space
WARNINGS: Tony's pretty suicidal, so tread lightly if you want to avoid that
a. civics centre
The city felt more empty than ever. All of the extra bodies, lively as they were, grinning and indulging, only contrasted the expanses of untouched land; the crumbling residential blocks and overgrown flood plains to one side, and the scorched, eerie compounds to the other. Hovering over the civics centre, where the noise of the Agrii poured over the roof to echo in the wells of the weedy alleys, Tony could see the rapid decay of activity like a perfect radial graph. He was harder to see himself, the pale gold of the new Iron Man blending into the hazy summer sky and rippling with sunlight, so he only had to raise a reluctant hand back at the few Agrii that were lounging long enough to notice him and wave enthusiastically. It was good that the ships hadn't returned from their journey just to find the population left behind in Temba slaughtered, it was, but it reinforced for Tony that they couldn't be trusted, drilling deeper that expanse of loneliness. These were the architects of their suffering, and Tony hadn't had the conviction to take the ships and fly away from this place. They had come back instead.
The vantage point was not meant to highlight his own isolation, though. He was meant to be looking for the outsiders; the Wanderer, whose posture had suddenly seemed familiar, or even a few Agrii who didn't look so eager to participate in the new grounded community, projecting their misgivings that could be utilized. He didn't expect to see the opposite; a more familiar face choosing to join in. The abductees, by and large, appeared to be put off by the Agrii, unenthusiastic about socializing with them when on board the ships. This had, admittedly, seemed less of a guarded caution than a personal distaste. So while Tony grew more distrustful, it looked like others were overcoming their reluctance, as someone came wandering along the pool deck. Iron Man dropped closer, still keeping his distance by gliding along the side of the building, a few feet from the eaves, following the he-row's path to ask, "Going for a swim?"
b. the hospital
It was a simple programming problem. Now that the Agrii were less aggressive, it would probably be easier to convince them to explore other ways to manage their impulses. It wasn't that any of them wanted to be impulsive and harmful; there was just an imbalance in the brain. Rational logic should be allowed to override those destructive desires.
Conveniently, for this purely scientific pursuit, Tony's brain was already programmable. In theory. It wasn't really something that he had done entirely on his own before, but it wasn't completely alien, either; he had reprogrammed his version of Extremis, after all, to better accommodate the Iron Man, and to minimize the more combustive elements. When it was outside of his brainmeat, it was pretty straightforward. Now that it was in there, he was going to have to learn some practical neurosurgery. It couldn't be that hard. The mechanics of the operation were clearly the more complex equation; drilling into the back of his own skull and remaining alert and focused while he learned to navigate the brain was, probably, tricky. Tony knew a few tricks.
The rig that would let him accomplish this was already a drain on his limited resources. He had to be a little pragmatic about it, and make use of some of the tools already available. Luckily, the hospital wasn't very lively. Most likely, he reasoned, the doctors were making use of their more robust, and sterile capabilities on board the ships, and he was free to search through the cupboards and closets for what he needed. There were scalpels and clamps, of course; delicate work that he was happy to avoid firing again so he could focus on building more specialized equipment. Sutures or staples--he'd figured out which was more correct in the moment, and added them both to the tray against his hip. The chemicals were a more valuable commodity here; solutions to sterilize, to clarify, and manage some of the pain. There had to be something written down to explain the full effects of the tablets and compounds that he could find, either in the surgery or one of the doctors' offices, or somewhere in their communications that he could find on the network. It was a careful balance that he had to strike, after all; he had to be awake and alert, and he couldn't take anything stronger than a Tylenol. Not until he had solved this impulse problem, anyway. And so he stood, loaded tray on one side, in front of an open cupboard, eyeing a bottle like giving it a shake and holding it up to the light would tell him the exact chemical compound that he was considering. It wasn't like anyone else would need to use the hospital while he deliberated.
WHERE: Temba civics centre and hospital
WHAT: Figuring out what everyone else wants, figuring out how to stop wanting
WHEN: After the return from haunted space
WARNINGS: Tony's pretty suicidal, so tread lightly if you want to avoid that
a. civics centre
The city felt more empty than ever. All of the extra bodies, lively as they were, grinning and indulging, only contrasted the expanses of untouched land; the crumbling residential blocks and overgrown flood plains to one side, and the scorched, eerie compounds to the other. Hovering over the civics centre, where the noise of the Agrii poured over the roof to echo in the wells of the weedy alleys, Tony could see the rapid decay of activity like a perfect radial graph. He was harder to see himself, the pale gold of the new Iron Man blending into the hazy summer sky and rippling with sunlight, so he only had to raise a reluctant hand back at the few Agrii that were lounging long enough to notice him and wave enthusiastically. It was good that the ships hadn't returned from their journey just to find the population left behind in Temba slaughtered, it was, but it reinforced for Tony that they couldn't be trusted, drilling deeper that expanse of loneliness. These were the architects of their suffering, and Tony hadn't had the conviction to take the ships and fly away from this place. They had come back instead.
The vantage point was not meant to highlight his own isolation, though. He was meant to be looking for the outsiders; the Wanderer, whose posture had suddenly seemed familiar, or even a few Agrii who didn't look so eager to participate in the new grounded community, projecting their misgivings that could be utilized. He didn't expect to see the opposite; a more familiar face choosing to join in. The abductees, by and large, appeared to be put off by the Agrii, unenthusiastic about socializing with them when on board the ships. This had, admittedly, seemed less of a guarded caution than a personal distaste. So while Tony grew more distrustful, it looked like others were overcoming their reluctance, as someone came wandering along the pool deck. Iron Man dropped closer, still keeping his distance by gliding along the side of the building, a few feet from the eaves, following the he-row's path to ask, "Going for a swim?"
b. the hospital
It was a simple programming problem. Now that the Agrii were less aggressive, it would probably be easier to convince them to explore other ways to manage their impulses. It wasn't that any of them wanted to be impulsive and harmful; there was just an imbalance in the brain. Rational logic should be allowed to override those destructive desires.
Conveniently, for this purely scientific pursuit, Tony's brain was already programmable. In theory. It wasn't really something that he had done entirely on his own before, but it wasn't completely alien, either; he had reprogrammed his version of Extremis, after all, to better accommodate the Iron Man, and to minimize the more combustive elements. When it was outside of his brainmeat, it was pretty straightforward. Now that it was in there, he was going to have to learn some practical neurosurgery. It couldn't be that hard. The mechanics of the operation were clearly the more complex equation; drilling into the back of his own skull and remaining alert and focused while he learned to navigate the brain was, probably, tricky. Tony knew a few tricks.
The rig that would let him accomplish this was already a drain on his limited resources. He had to be a little pragmatic about it, and make use of some of the tools already available. Luckily, the hospital wasn't very lively. Most likely, he reasoned, the doctors were making use of their more robust, and sterile capabilities on board the ships, and he was free to search through the cupboards and closets for what he needed. There were scalpels and clamps, of course; delicate work that he was happy to avoid firing again so he could focus on building more specialized equipment. Sutures or staples--he'd figured out which was more correct in the moment, and added them both to the tray against his hip. The chemicals were a more valuable commodity here; solutions to sterilize, to clarify, and manage some of the pain. There had to be something written down to explain the full effects of the tablets and compounds that he could find, either in the surgery or one of the doctors' offices, or somewhere in their communications that he could find on the network. It was a careful balance that he had to strike, after all; he had to be awake and alert, and he couldn't take anything stronger than a Tylenol. Not until he had solved this impulse problem, anyway. And so he stood, loaded tray on one side, in front of an open cupboard, eyeing a bottle like giving it a shake and holding it up to the light would tell him the exact chemical compound that he was considering. It wasn't like anyone else would need to use the hospital while he deliberated.
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