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)
revivalproject2020-03-22 05:38 pm
in_extremis) wrote in revivalproject2020-03-22 05:38 pm
Stranger in a Strange Land
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.]
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.]
no subject
The fuck's a limbo? [he asks curiously, coming up behind Steve and sticking a hand out in Tony's direction.] Bucky Barnes. Captain America - when this guy's too indisposed to do it.
[It's more complicated than that, but Tony is complicated enough without getting into that.]
no subject
It occurs to Tony as this man-- grown man, very large man, he was right about that serum-- as he approaches, that if he thought about Bucky Barnes growing up at all, if he could picture a future for him, he always pictured him kind of looking like...himself. That must have been true for any skinny, dark haired kid who grew up idolizing Captain America, and the clarity of this realization-- that of course Tony would want to believe that, and of course this must have been Bucky-- it makes Tony laugh out loud in delight. He puts his glass right back down where he got it to take Bucky's hand in both of his.] Tony Stark, thoroughly unranked.
[The feeling is not entirely dissimilar to watching Cap open his eyes for the first time out of the ice, but without the dread of the reanimation ordeal, all of that adrenaline just became giddiness. He's still staring at Bucky, but talking to Steve.] You didn't tell me he was-- is this what you meant by attractive? You dog. Did he ask you to be an Avenger yet? You're in. Done deal.
no subject
[He laughs and gives Bucky's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. As the bartender comes over, Steve orders an old-fashioned and hopes in a couple hundred years it's still recognizable.]
I'm pretty sure he got dragged in after his thawing. If one thing is consistent, it's Tony Stark adopting ex-icicle super soldiers.
no subject
[With some differences, sure. But Definitely some similarities. It's weirdly comforting, even if Bucky is still sort of at arms' length with his Tony, back home.
The smile widens as he turns to Steve,] You called me attractive? Well, right back atcha, pal.
[And, because Tony doesn't seem to care - or because, if he does, it'll bug him - Bucky leans in and plants a kiss on Steve's cheek. It's very chaste and polite. But it's definitely still a kiss. Steve is a lot of things, but he is cutest when he's flustered.]
I don't know that I got adopted, [Bucky puts in, addressing both of them now.] Forcibly dragged is more like it. Did Steve tell you about the Chitauri yet? Aliens like us, apparently.
no subject
I think we kind of figured we had the same war stories. [The expression is gone before Bucky might catch it as Tony plucks up his glass again, but he keeps his hold on Bucky's shoulder.] But I haven't heard of a Chitauri. Or an Agrii. And I know whatever me you're used to has been slacking because there's no way I would have neglected to tell you what limboing was in a whole decade. You can tell me, you already prefer me, right? [He takes a deep breath finally, then a long drink, and if he held his breath for long enough while he did it, it might feel a little bit like a good, lightheaded tequila buzz. This was fine, why wouldn't it be fine?]
no subject
The Tony we know is pretty busy. [Steve has to defend him.] Also I didn't make it easy for him after I moved to DC. I'm sure there's limbo all over the place at Avenger headquarters.
[Was it a drink? A food? A dance? For all Steve knew it was something adult that had been invented after him. Like the miniskirt.]
no subject
[But he's got to say - this Tony is already far less standoffish than the one he's used to. It's... refreshing, actually. Especially to see Steve getting along with him so well. Maybe he does prefer this Tony, actually, and he can't help a tiny smile at the question.] And I've only known Stark about two years, and we ain't exactly close. So maybe it's just never come up.
[He does blow out a breath, though - no Chitauri. That's good. And as for the Agrii,] I don't think anyone around here knows a lot about the Agrii, but we've been around about as much as anybody else you'll meet. [He glances to Steve, and then back to Tony.] So if you've got any questions, we can at least tell you what we do or don't know.
no subject
This is a nightmare.]
Uh, yeah-- [Tony has to cough like he drank to fast, and rapidly shoves his already empty glass away on the bar, focus.] Too many questions, don't even know where to start. Do you trust them? Everyone's so...resigned.