Stranger in a Strange Land

[in_extremis]

WHO: Tony, Steve and Bucky? And everyone else!
WHERE: Some network nonsense, and skulking around the resort
WHAT: Tony's playing catch up, and doesn't have a good lead yet. This is also Tony's TDM thread, relocated to make more sense on Risa, so if you want to properly canon that meeting, here we are!
WHEN: Risa: After Hours
WARNINGS: Nothing scandalous yet!


The Resort
The amount of information that Tony had now was not helpful, and neither the tablet he had been carefully tucked into his new bed with nor the computers spread throughout the resort were properly calibrated to help Tony map this ever sprawling conundrum. He had no way to connect the mysterious '31' to apocalyptic storms on a planet he had never heard of to all of the information telling him he was currently in an episode of Star Trek. What he did have was: an already rockstar-trashed room, a new wardrobe, and a creeping sensation of truly disgusting self-pity eating away in the pit of his stomach that he was going to have to overcome very rapidly before it grew any more powerful. To do that, he needed answers. He needed Cap. No, he could do this.

If he was going to solve the problem, he had to be in control of how at the very least. So far, the market had offered Tony plenty of fun and fashion, but not anything particularly useful, and it was about time he experienced a childhood fantasy: the replicators. One of the staff members had helpfully directed him in a way that felt so reminiscent of suggesting the ice machine back on familiar ground, that when Tony was actually standing in front of the thing, his first impulse was 'computer: ice'. And the replicator just made it, just like that; and not even just ice, this thing was advanced enough to interpret this failure of a human communication, vague and directionless, and delivered the beautiful, mouthwateringly glistening ice chips in a delicate glass, a useful container for his bumbling desires. Tony could smell how crunchy they were. He stared at this gift for too long in wonder, before remembering that he was still in public and gave a glance up and down the hall, regrouping, trying to focus. It was late so the halls felt deserted, but anyone could be coming back from the clubs at any hour in this place. Current problem: Kidnapping situation. Problem for another time: solving world hunger. He collected his glass of ice, then tried again, asking for a set of precision tools and a soldering iron. Then, after holding all of this cradled in a hammock of his shirt pulled away from his stomach, asked for superglue (this did not work, Tony had to get more specific and got what he hoped he was looking for with 'Cyanoacrylate?'), then, duh, bandages. He should have brought a bag. "Oh. Computer, one more thing, sweetheart. Do you have a bag?" A Ferengi rounded the corner, looking festive in a Margaritaville shirt (would he get the reference?) but staring very seriously at Tony, clearly suspicious and unwilling to share this space with him at this hour. Tony wasn't eager to find out if the species was really as they were portrayed, and instead gave a courteous nod of acknowledgement as he slung his cleverly resort-branded cloth bag of goods over his shoulder and slid away, glass in hand, to find another station to test the limits of. It couldn't hurt to test out his new tools on one, just a little bit. He could solve two problems at once.

It was late, and the breeze flowed easily through the open-air halls of the resort, keeping the still-warm, tropical air from feeling oppressively hot and carrying the sweet smell of alien, fruiting flowers with it. It was the perfect time to case the joint.

[Video]
[A video message posted to the network of a man frowning down into the camera, chin propped up in one hand and looking equal parts bored and skeptical, but occasionally glancing up, just past the camera, possibly betraying his alert tension.
Tony is in his room, sitting with his back against the bed where he has clearly thoroughly tossed the blankets, a single pillow left in the middle of the mattress among the mess. He knows from Billy that this is the best way to get in touch with anyone who might be able to relate to his situation. It doesn't make him feel any less vulnerable.]

I'm used to having some, you know, guidelines-- hard to read the room here, hard to read the audience. Um-- Tony. [He quickly touches his chest, that's me, before holding his chin again.] Looking for: just some fun, nothing serious. Likes: long walks on the beach, particle physics, black coffee. Dislikes: The smell of bookstores. I know, you'll try to convince me, and it will be a very good date, because I've never had a bad one, but I still won't like the smell. What else goes on these things...? [He's looking past the camera again, like he's waiting for the response to come from out there. If this doesn't produce solid results, Tony's ready to take this thing apart and make it more useful to him.]

Comments

[deal_me_in]

"Okay, Tony then. -aw dangit!"

He'd completely forgotten about his ramen, and with the reminder he scooped up the bowl almost reverently in both his hands. And then he looked down at it awkwardly before turning his head towards the replicator. "Er...don't suppose you could throw in a pair of chopsticks?"

At least whatever minor dip in the mood had been dispersed with that, and in the time Cayde awaited his eating utensils, he gave some thought to the points Tony made.

"Oh, oh, you're talkin' about the uh..." He'd picked up his chopsticks by then and gestured with them in the air as though he'd use them to snag the words he was looking for. "The Agrii. The ones that left the innocuous threat note." He paused to expertly gather up a sizable amount of noodles, which he managed to slurp up without making too much of a mess. Tapping his chopsticks against the edge of the bowl, he hummed in consideration. "...yeah. This is a big bowl of disappointment. What were we talking about again? Oh yeah!"

The Exo nodded as he picked up on where he'd disembarked the previous train of thought. "Possible. I mean, I considered that too, but it's all mostly speculation off of what I was told from this blue guy who's also in the same boat as us. Least I'm assuming you're in on it too anyway."

[in_extremis]

It was entirely Tony's fault that he hadn't made it clear whether he was one of the abducted, and, unfortunately, Cayde kept on doing things. There was no focusing on holding a proper conversation while Tony studied this whole soup performance like a cat stuck behind a window, watching a birdhouse. It was a little gross watching Cayde eat, feeling very much like the panic of spilling coffee on a keyboard and sure that there would be a phantom stickiness for the foreseeable future. There was no helping it, it would haunt Tony if he didn't ask: "Where does it go?" His fingers were twitching, itching with the stillness and eager to fidget with something, even if it wasn't Cayde's fuel system.

[deal_me_in]

Perhaps to Tony's relief, Cayde would stop his intake of less than adequate noodles, although it was only after trying a bit of pork that he finally ceased altogether, looking instead for a place to dump out the rest.

"What? Oh. Hell if I know. I figure there's a stomach kinda configuration in here somewhere, or some kinda converter. Pretty sure I don't needa eat but hey, habits."

He shrugged it off, wiping off his jaw with the back of a sleeve, figuring it'd be a waste asking the replicator for a napkin. "You all right there, Tony? Too much caffeine intake?"

[in_extremis]

He didn't even know? He wasn't even sure if he needed to eat? Where did he develop an eating habit?

What the hell was this thing?

"Not nearly enough," Tony corrected, glad to be prompted to do something with his body even if that meant suboptimal coffee. He was used to that. He even had some experience explaining an Americano to a computer, and wasn't surprised when he was delivered an espresso shot with a cup of hot water on the side, drumming his fingers along the replicator all the while. There were a certain set of behaviours Tony expected from machines. How boring. "You're an external consciousness," he determined after his first sip, focused with something to hang onto, "downloaded into a new system. There's a backup of you on a hard drive somewhere." Whether or not this was actually true of Cayde was obviously not immediately important. Tony was looking past him then, clearly formulating how someone could do that with a human brain. Maybe not an entirely human brain. An Extremis brain, though...

[deal_me_in]

In that time, Cayde found what he hoped was a trash receptacle, otherwise he hoped no one would yell at him as he dumped the contents of the bowl in. He inspected the bowl before deciding at the very least to keep it and the chopsticks, neither very fancy but serviceable.

"Now that's rude," he said after Tony spoke up again, and setting his things aside, he folded his arms, leaning against the wall beside the replicator. "Nothin' external here. Pretty sure I'm it." He paused. "Which is where the problem is, because after so many reboots or whatever, my memory's gotten pretty scattered."

He waved a hand at that as though dismissing what he'd just said. "So you're either some kind of systems analyst, a computer geek, or someone with waay too much free time on your hands. Maybe all of the above."

[in_extremis]

That was fair, Tony had been analyzing Cayde since he laid eyes on the construct; honestly, he'd left Cayde the room to be far less amicable in his choice of words. Systems analyst and computer geek could apply, so Tony welcomed those with a grin and a thumbs up, but on having too much free time, he had to repeat, "Not nearly enough." Being rude about Cayde's brain wasn't enough to put Tony off figuring it out, though, so he was quick to continue, arguing, "Whoever built this body didn't teach you to eat. Your mom did. That's her charming, Canadian raised vowel sound. It would be crazy to program that level of human detail. What for? You're not convincing anyone you're a meatbag." If Cayde was somehow under the impression his face could pass for human, Tony didn't mind being the one to disavow him of the notion. "Meatbags don't get rebooted. But system memory can be reconstructed. Who hasn't been cycling you safely?"

[deal_me_in]

Two out of three wasn't nearly so bad, and even with Tony saying otherwise, Cayde still wasn't completely sold on the denial of the last. But then everyone could use more free time.

He rolled his eyes as the man continued, but he didn't refute the points being made, although he did scowl a bit. "You like to hear yourself talk too," he muttered, not that he couldn't say he liked to do the same sometimes. When it appeared it was his cue to join in the conversation again, the Hunter shook his head.

"Death," he said, blunt but truthfully. "Look, you're right- Exos weren't made to play at being human- that's what we started off as. At least I'm pretty sure- scrambled memories and a few centuries will do that to you. Throw in dying and being revived by borderline magical means some several times, and I still consider myself pretty lucky to hang on to half of the things I remember. Most Exos figure it's easier to let go. I think that was the idea from the start, but what can I say, I've always been overly possessive of my stuff."

[in_extremis]

Tony had to give him that, with another thumbs up for the most accurate assessment yet--he did keep talking as he did it. He was just pulling these hypotheses out of the air, though, and Cayde just said centuries; there were centuries of information that Tony was missing, and he very much wanted to catch up. Instead of launching into another lecture, Tony considered Cayde's casual slouch, tapping a still restless finger against his coffee cup. He wasn't listening right. "Are you doing anything right now?" Tony asked. Clearly not, he had already been letting Tony ogle him in this empty hallway for at least ten minutes, and they had been stranded on an alien planet without any directions. Tony didn't really need an answer. "Because if you can tell me what you're made of-- if we can put those memories back together-- then I would, ah..." It might have been obvious enough already what Tony wanted to get out of this exchange, but the human element of Cayde's systems made the language he was supposed to use not so obvious. "Like to make some babies with you," was pretty great.

[deal_me_in]

"What the hell was in that drink? Wait, no, no- this is...this is still you, isn't it."

It took him a good several seconds long enough to make it awkward silence before Cayde finally responded, and that after giving Tony a long, hard look. Shaking his head, he eased himself from the wall, brushing himself off.

"Listen, much as I appreciate the offer- not so much the intent because that's just plain creepy. Creepiest thing I've ever been told, and that's saying something. Used to know a gal that was practically creepy incarnate and I think the only thing that would've made her creepier was if she'd said that exact same thing."

The Exo turned to pick up his bowl and chopsticks. He had no idea what he'd do with them but they were his now. Maybe he could sell them. Or keep them as a souvenir.

"Anyway, couldn't tell you what I was made of even if I wanted to," he said as he waved a hand and started back down the hall.

[in_extremis]

Alright, not the correct language. Nothing new there, just a change of scenery and a far more crushing loss than a pretty face Tony didn't know enough about yet. That was Iron Man mk 130¹⁰ walking away from him, that was a potentially self-sustaining power source, that was touch-sensitive prosthetics and a way to communicate with coma patients, spooked off by Tony's foot in his mouth. And still, he hadn't really been listening.

Tony pouted, fingers finally stilling on his mug as he blew a heavy sigh from his nose, experienced enough to know not to push it when creepy was invoked. "You know where to find me if you want to fix that," he offered in farewell, half way raising a hand in return but without the confidence now to commit to it, and trailing off as he spoke to turn to what companion he had left: the replicator. To it, he finished muttering, "If you change your mind." The prospect of taking apart this replicator had been so thrilling just a few minutes ago, and now it kind of seemed like a fancy 3D printer. Tony's pout didn't fade, but it turned thoughtful as he stared into the waiting receptacle. Were flowers a good apology for whatever an Exo was?

[deal_me_in]

No reply was forthcoming, only because Cayde figured it would only prompt the guy to talk more. He could still hear him go on, and in spite of himself, the Exo chuckled as he continued along.

Now that had been a weird encounter. Ikora'd get a kick out of it. Maybe even Big Blue. ...nah scratch that, Zavala'd be more on his case about leaving, as though being kidnapped by aliens was Cayde's fault.

He thought no more of the strange proposition although he figured he'd probably have to get used to people eyeing him sideways now that he was in a place where Exos were unheard of. Ughk. Maybe he needed a drink. At least you could get that at a bar and not one of those replicators.