revivalproject | Stranger in a Strange Land

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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.]

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Reeve had clearly just asked Tony to investigate the sketches, so it would be rude not to, he was trying to make a good first impression here. As soon as Reeve was on his feet, Tony was leaning forward with his elbows on the table to poke the end of the pencil the cat clutched, with a pout at the little beast, before dropping that finger to the stack of paper to slowly draw the topmost one across the table. He was still pouting and looking down his nose at the page when Reeve returned, so the change in Reeve's demeanor was an auspicious start that Tony wasn't expecting. The, I'm Totally Casual And Don't Talk Like I Was Top Of My Class At Finishing School, relaxed hair was a nice touch.

Tony dropped back in his seat as Reeve placed the drink down, arms crossed and chin up but not hiding the toothy smirk that Reeve's first volley earned. It wasn't Tony's taste, but the maneuver was solid enough that Tony was ready to accuse Reeve of holding back on him so he could get Tony in this position, when he went and ruined it for himself. He couldn't help it, could he? Tony's arms dropped to hang in defeat at his sides as Reeve explained his drink to him, rolling his eyes enough to make his head fall back before snapping completely upright again, propping one arm up with the other against his chest to stroke his beard as he came to his final evaluation. "Strong out the gate," he admired first, "but you're not going to find a test group that says, explaining things to them when they didn't ask, would score overwhelmingly positive." This was only hypocritical to those who knew Tony on any level beyond first contact. Tony had a window of about twenty minutes before it would stop being completely sincere. "Maybe, for you, you just hold back a little bit," he suggested acidly, but sat forward to investigate this drink (he did need the quick lesson, thanks) and pat the table for Reeve to take his seat again. "Work up from the pit you dug, what's your next move?"

Well, the little cat doll definitely started poking at Tony's arm with the sharp end of the pencil. It intended to fulfill its given duty. Don't be rude, Tony. It is a brave little protector.

As for Reeve, he raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed by Tony's conclusion there. Part of him wants to be defensive, because again, he hasn't tried this for many years. At least seven actually, so he's doing pretty well, all things considered. Especially in the face of this flamboyant man.

Hadn't he said he was out of practice? That he didn't have the confidence anymore? Where was a scotch when you needed it? He was always better when he had a touch of drink in him.

He takes a seat, fingers tapping the table as he considers.

"The next move, of course, depends entirely upon the response of the party in question. And as you broke the character of the little scene, I don't have anything to work off of."

That earned another sincerely surprised chuckle from Tony, reminding him that he really had to ask what Reeve meant by 'painful', but the guy had his own idea of how this conversation was going to go; it was a pattern now. "You've got to be in control, huh?" Tony observed. Not an accusation, just something to be considered on Reeve's seduction curriculum, and Tony nodded, accepting the adjustment. He should have pegged Reeve's companion as an outlet.

He took his drink to lean back in his seat, crossing his legs again and finding himself pretty unable to get back into the resistant character that he had proposed before Reeve made him laugh, so Tony grinned easily instead as he said, "Thanks, I'm glad I look like I need your help, that makes me feel great. Please, have a seat, I can't wait to hear more."

Ah, the things Reeve could say about the proper places to vie for control. But that isn't here or there. Instead he offers a brief, appreciative nod. Thank you, then, for returning to the proper form of things. Though later, if the question still occurred, Reeve could nervously inform Tony of the assets a Qunari had to work with. It had been... enlightening to even share a hot spring with the big man.

"I don't believe you could use my help," Reeve counters, "if anything, I could use yours. You see, I find myself a touch out of my element, and believe someone with good taste could help remedy my a problem of mine."

And here he played up the coy, nervous angle by trying to push the hair back that had fallen into his face. Which, of course, only slipped back down. It's worked before. He even leans forward, his voice quieter. He remembered it made people lean in more, provoked interest. It also allowed him to look up a little at Tony. Always made you look a touch more nervous, a touch less threatening, and more in need of kind treatment. Usually it got him let down gently if the whole thing didn't work. but again, it's just not the exact right angle, the tone isn't perfect, and his voice is too soft.

It's like... It's like someone who once knew what they were doing trying to remember the steps to a dance they once knew well. Sure, they could get some of them right, but the timing was just vaguely off under the eyes of a more practiced dancer.

The element of clumsiness was kind of like someone recently divorced, but in Tony's experience, that person tended to be too brash and performing an overconfidence they didn't properly project. It could have just been the vacillation between tactical approaches, which wouldn't have been a bad call if Reeve could get his footing faster, so Tony cocked his head to await further observation. Reeve was going to have to be able to adapt quickly if he was going to be an undercover seducer. Either way, the evaluation was the same: needed more practice.

This approach wouldn't have worked on Tony, either, he was pretty sure, its inherent sliminess reminding him of too many unsavoury personalities, but he couldn't properly account for how he would react if unprepared for it. He was, after all, very curious about where Reeve planned to go with this. Still, he was on the defensive here to keep Reeve on his toes, and tried not to encourage him too much. "A problem with your head?" Tony ventured, still not quite bothering to suppress his grin as he feigned his disengagement with a careless examination of his nails, not letting Reeve weaponize those puppy eyes any further.

Oh ha ha. His head was perfectly fine, thank you very much.

"A party, actually. I've an invitation. But it's for two. The host is very particular. Something about lucky numbers. The party is inauspicious if there isn't an even number of guests. Therefore I cannot attend unless I bring someone with me."

In fact, Reeve produces a very lovely card from his pocket. Helps when you're working with a hint of truth. He wasn't sure what he had thought about the 'Andorian' who had proffered it, but they'd meet discussing architecture and Reeve had been invited, and he actually had no intention of going. At all. But props were useful.

And it flat out said that the barer could only be allowed in with a companion.

"Perhaps you'd join me? Once we are past the door you've no obligation, though I would beg a dance for propriety's sake. After that, the evening is yours to enjoy, as you see fit."

Tony was really going to have to recalibrate his expectations with Reeve; his overly strict presentation was clearly interfering with Tony's readings. He would have said this was a very risky approach without at least a little rapport, but Reeve had props. Just as Reeve had hoped, Tony popped up out of his dismissive lounge and leaned closer across the table, drink abandoned and both hands out to take the card and read whatever he could see was written on it. This was hilariously unexpected enough that Tony was willing to play along with this charade, whatever grocery list Reeve happened to be carrying around with him, but discovering that the card was exactly what Reeve said it was cut Tony's giggle short, and he instantly forgot that Reeve had a part for him to be playing. This was way more interesting. "Oh, this is real! Who's been inviting you to parties around here, playboy?" No one had invited Tony to any party, he had clearly been doing something wrong. "Forgive me, sensei, I was misguided. We're going, right?" Tony didn't want to miss the alien orgy just because he hadn't been socializing with the right Bajoran.

"I haven't been a playboy in, what, a decade? Maybe a bit longer? Too busy. And it was a very nice Andorian man, a retired general, or so he claimed. We had a very diverting discussion about Risan architecture. There is clearly some neo-classical Vulcan influence."

That was the secret. He hadn't been flirting. He'd just been conversing with someone in a field he studied heavily, and the conversation had apparently amused. And given Reeve could give tidbits of design the man wasn't familiar with, he was considered a curiosity for a human.

But he chuckles at the suggestion. "I think the game fell apart there. And the invitation doesn't have my name specifically on it, so you could take this and a guest of your choosing along with you if you desired."

"Pump the breaks," Tony instructed, one hand up to demonstrate if that wasn't a phrase in Reeve's vocabulary. Not about Tony taking this invitation and finding anyone else to go with, he wasn't going to turn down the offer if he couldn't convince Reeve to join him on that journey of discovery (who else would go with him? Tony didn't know people here), but Reeve kept on leaking cultural facts like he was very comfortable sitting here in this cafe. That, combined with the strict military posture and speech, led Tony to the conclusion: "Are you from here? Not here, like this planet, but..." Tony gestured, the dimension they found themselves in, but maybe this planet, what did Tony know?

Well of course it wasn't in his vocabulary, but he absolutely could extrapolate the meaning. Though when he considers what Tony suggests, he almost looks horrified.

"Here? Hardly. I'm from a world called Gaia, in a very different dimension I believe. We only got our first people into space three years ago. But I'm an architect and I was presented with a computer here."

In fact, here's where a change comes over Reeve. Instead of rigid and nervous he's completely confident, and from the light in his eyes and the smile he wore, passionate. Here's where his fire was.

"How could I resist asking about the architectural styles of other races? The chance was impossible to pass up. Did you know the Vulcans believe in establishment of cities by first planning the most effective service routes for all utilities, access to commodities, and emergency services? Of course they are not avid on commercialism and with replicators they have less need for stores, so I'm not sure how to process this, as I've had to spend most of my career working to ensure proper distribution of commercial centers. Oh, and the Risans, while a culture based on pleasure, build a lot of their larger cities accessible to outsiders very differently from the ones they use for themselves. This city is designed down to the very last bush to provide maximum pleasure and minimum energy output to ensure there is heightened ease and pleasure for guests."

He smiles and shakes his head, fingers coming up to card through his hair and mussing it a little. Passion meant distraction from the rigidness he'd grown used to presenting himself as when he'd founded the WRO. Before that even, when he had become the head of his department in ShinRa.

But this world? This whole concept of traveling space freely? It's mind-blowing to him.

"But I assure you, this world is not my own. I doubt the universe is. I haven't seen a speck of magic, beyond mine that is."

This answer vacillated between boring and enchanting: boring, because it would have been way more interesting to find out there was at least one person kidnapped to their own dimension, that had fantastic implications and would have made Reeve even stranger than Tony was already gathering; enchanting, because Reeve was still very strange and lit up like a kid talking about dinosaurs, except it was for infrastructure and Tony could tell he was at least over 8 years old; boring again, because magic. Tony pouted at the cat on the table. Of course it wasn't a feat of engineering, it was nonsense.

"Just like the ecosystem. Designed," Tony reminded Reeve. That was why they were messing around here, after all. Enchanting, because at least this minor character flaw meant Reeve was an exception to the magic-physics binary system. He had experience with both. Tony slouched back again, working the card he still held restlessly between his fingers while he prompted, "What can you tell me about the storms on Agra 10?"

Oh, there will be engineering in the final project. But why can't a robot have its own soul? Reeve may know robotics, but programming? Definitely not. Unlike Tony he can't do everything. His world didn't even have concepts for more than half of what Tony did. Too far beyond him.

"Sadly, I can tell you little to nothing about the storms on Agra 10. I was on the planet for two days before we were brought here. I barely had a chance to find the power plant and start studying their systems. I decided that, before playing with anything which alters the mind or adds new information to it, I wanted to see what I could figure out for myself. If I accept one of these mental uploads of theirs, I want it to offer the most possible information to me. Which, of course, I hadn't had the chance to play with before..."

A hand waves around them to take in the forced vacation.

"Better than being kidnapped to a mountain top to watch other people's memories, yes, plus there are shoes. But the fact that this is ruining my chance to work so I can go home frustrates me. Still, the suggestion of weather manipulation technology isn't a bad one. But I think you might be the better distraction. And he..."

Reeve reaches out to tap the toy on the head.

"Will be a better scout for initial inspections. Small, able to pose as a discarded toy, and most importantly, under my control and capable of serving as my eyes. I miss having a fully robotic unit and I'm not sure how the ability impairment I've heard others speak of will affect him, but I'm not opposed to personal discomfort to get information."

Because, when it comes to the core of it, Reeve wants to go home. And he wants to do so quickly. He's been away long enough.

The more Reeve revealed about himself and Agra 10, the more questions Tony had, and he was already inundated with questions. He was going to have to develop an external catalogue to get any control over them at this point. What he was sure about was that they had a common goal, though, so he stored the question of shoes for now, and acknowledged the spread of pages he had been trying to get a peak at with a tilt of his head and a tap of the card he held on the closest one. Not armor, then. A kind of servo, with more targeted functionality than a stuffed animal. Was that what Cayde was? If he turned out to be magic, too, Tony would really hate this place.

Instead of pursuing those questions, Tony dismissed them with a quick, "We'll make you a little buddy. Let's figure out what we're up against." This place had proven to have an open door policy, both on bedrooms and on information, so it couldn't have been too hard to figure out where the weather machines were being housed. "You check the computers. I'll go ask that gal at the front desk with the Marilyn Monroe voice if there's facility tours or something. Have you seen her? I really don't think she's supposed to be breathing this atmosphere. Is this guy recording what he sees?" After all, Reeve was the one that said this might not have been his wheelhouse, he was going to have to man up and play the muscle if he didn't think he was ready to be the brains or the beauty.

Don't forget any questions, Tony. Reeve will be happy to assist with those later.

"I assure you I'm quite capable of making a robotic form for my friend on my own, provided I have the resources. He's already had eight iterations back home. But if you have some measure of skill and willingness, then I will welcome the assistance. It would make the process faster. But that, of course, isn't the matter of the moment."

Computers, yes, he supposes he can check those. And he doesn't really wish to interact with the woman with the 'Marilyn Monroe' voice, whatever that meant. But the idea of someone not breathing 'this atmosphere' actually leaves Reeve staring and ready to ask his own question. Which he'll have to table for later because Tony plows right on.

"Recording? No. Sadly at the moment he is nothing more than you see, a stuffed child's toy animated by my magic. Because he is not in a robotic form his abilities are highly limited. More flexible, yes, but without the proper structures he can't carry much, and lacks a recording device. But I can see what he sees, if I am free to focus on him."

Which took a lot out of him, and had been frustrating when he worked with AVALANCHE.

"I far prefer to give him all of those as onboard capabilities. Movement, strength, the ability to speak, and of course cameras and sensors. That I was not able to bring a proper Cait Sith unit with me is frustrating. I'm used to him being my eyes and ears and voice where I cannot be. The most advanced robotics on my world... or he would have been had I any skill with coding."

Frankly, he saw no reason to not share the information. Back home he'd never speak a word of his ability. It was something one learned when they would likely be hunted to be an experiment. Here... something told him he could get away with more.

Something about that had Tony sure that, despite the distance, or the gaping maw of time between them, Hank Pym was sitting in his quiet office in England, trying to be normal and fit in, but felt a haunting shiver down his spine. He would heartily discourage Tony from getting on board with a project like this, but he had never really warmed up to Jocasta and it wasn't like it was his body that Ultron rewired. Tony had handled that horror with as much dignity as he thought was reasonable, he could handle Ultron, he could help build a good body for this little guy. He picked the cat up from the table, holding it under its arms to look it in the eye and demand, "Don't let us down." That could have been about his spy assignment, but Tony felt like the look in its eye meant it understood the gravity of its existence.

"Bring your paper," Tony instructed Reeve when he thought he and the toy had come to some understanding. "If it's your eyes on this thing, you're going to have to make the record for me." On his feet, Tony tugged his jacket down and pushed his glasses up his nose before taking his drink to coax the location of the environmental systems out of the well-meaning staff. Hopefully, this didn't end up like it did when trying to find a shuttle bay.

Well, the little stuffed animal, to be named sometime in the future 'Mini-C', actually offered Tony a salute. The little toy knew what a salute was and knew how to properly apply it. Now wasn't that interesting?

"He'll be a very good boy," Reeve smiles as he rises, picking up his items and flipping to a new page. "His moral code is very certain. I have done my best to imprint that upon him. "And I can tell you, from where my mind touches his, that he's very excited to serve. And thankful that you aren't flinching away from him."

It's a little person, and Reeve loves his newest son. He wasn't going to like this process as they worked, though. He was no doubt going to discover the pain that distances from the construct would give him, but he'd power through it. This was too important to be stopped by blinding migraines.

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Stranger in a Strange Land

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