revivalproject | So who talks first?

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So who talks first? | Calibrations

WHO: Poe Dameron, OPEN
WHERE: Poe's Calibration room
WHAT: Calibrations
WHEN: 3 June - 10 June
WARNINGS: Torture, War, Weapons of Mass Destruction

You step out into a hangar, half sheltered, but open to the air along one side. The sky is blue, and in the distance there's scattered chatter from resistance members passing by as Poe and BB-8 work. Poe's perched atop the broken wing of his X-wing, scorch marks on her belly suggesting they'd recently come out of a tough scrape.

Poe's still half in his flight suit, the upper half tied round his waist, his old jacket sitting off to the side, draped over a ladder rung with care. There's scattered tools and wires to navigate, a makeshift workbench set up with his helmet and blaster abandoned there, next to his data pad which flashes at him with some unread message, though Poe seems to be pointedly ignoring it. Looking quite out of place, there's a tooka doll, not the sort of sentiment one might associate with Poe, and beside it, and old model of an A-Wing.

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"..." Poe nodded, knowing it wasn't the easiest thing to buy after seeing that. That Poe would just...tolerate living in the same space Hux breathed air.

"When I first showed up I went to him. To kill or be killed by him, whichever came first, but the people here, the Captain, he stopped us. Let us both say our peace, and told me he'd spent the last 3 years with Hux in some whole other place like this. That he was a good man. I don't know that I'll ever be able to believe that, but...killing him here does nothing to help anyone. He might deserve it, but...we've agreed to a sort of truce. For now."

Tony wasn't sure if he would have jumped to killing the guy, but at the moment he could definitely understand the impulse, and didn't have a better solution for managing that kind of threat in Temba if he had shown up to find Red Skull already entrenched in the community. And he didn't even succeed. And that wasn't a star system. Being told that a person like that was a 'good man' would have been paralyzingly isolating. Tony watched Poe with a sympathetic frown, opening his free hand and hoping something would occur to him to offer, but he had no idea how to convey that kind of understanding-- he wasn't even sure he totally did understand, on this scale.

He did understand 'killing him here does nothing to help anyone', making his defensive shoulders drop, settling into a frustrated acceptance. It wasn't even Tony's fight, technically, if Poe thought this truce was the reasonable response, his was the lead to follow. That didn't mean Tony had to look happy about it. "At least keep an eye on him..." he muttered, tossing the data pad back down irritably, sure that a truce didn't have to involve leaving the guy who didn't see a problem with blowing up a bunch of planets in control of the power plant. A less explosive job, maybe. Thoughtlessly, restless hands working ahead of him, Tony picked up the model ship instead.

It was a complicated situation, Poe knew. And it was hard, seeing him. Even if they'd managed to be civil to one another, even...friendly at times. Seeing all this just reminded Poe that eventually they'd be right back where they started.

"I have been," he assured, before the world shifted again.

A young curly haired boy sat inside the cockpit of an A-wing, settled in his mother's lap as she ran him through the pre-flight. He was unmistakably Poe, and he looked every bit his mother's son.

The starfighter lifted off, giving a good view of the ranch and colony below, and then the jungles of Yavin 4. In the distance you could see the Grand Temple, ancient and towering above the trees, and Shara Bey pointed it out her to her son as she guided his hands. Eventually she let go all together, letting him steer on his own, and Poe gave a giddy laugh, looking just as at home there in the sky as his mother did.

That was emotional whiplash that left Tony leaning back against the workbench with a queer nostalgia, the phantom wound all the stranger knowing that it wasn't his but Tony wished it was. It wasn't enough to overtake the flash of exhilaration from the flight that Tony turned up at Poe in a gleeful grin, blindly abandoning the model to come closer to the ship Poe worked on to run a hand along it instead. "No question where you came from, huh?" he observed. "How many of your friends were hanging around your house way too long? Is your dad still in the picture? Don't worry about it, I'd be a great stepdad."

Poe laughed, sharing in that lingering feeling. Nothing could beat the thrill of flying, and there was nothing quite like that first time.

"Dad's the only one still in the picture" he corrected gently, "So you'd have to settle for stepmom." And then, a touch more seriously, "...she died. About two years after that."

The way Poe corrected him had Tony looking back with a frown, but it was something of a relief to learn it wasn't a very fresh wound. That would have been a lot for a guy to go through at once, and Tony didn't know if he was capable of offering the correct condolences; even now, he only gave an apologetic pout for the loss. He wouldn't want someone trying to console him over his parents' death in his head. Instead, his exploring fingertips skipped over rivets to wander curiously through the scorch marks that marred the metal, starting to ask, "What happened...?"

"Fire fight-" Poe started to explain, but as soon as Tony's fingers skimmed over those scorch marks the sky was gone, replaced with a dimly lit holding cell, narrow and metal plated. It held a torture rack, with a bloodied and unconscious Poe strapped in place, and along the wall several panels blinked with red light.

The doors opened, and a dark figure entered, the brief shift in the light before the door closed again rousing the captured pilot.

"I had no idea we had the best pilot in the resistance on board," the figure noted, voice low and modulated through the mask, calm as Poe slowly came to. His features hardened as he set his sights on Ren, a defiant look in his eye.

"Comfortable?" the man asked, almost mockingly.

"Not really," Poe returned, shifting slightly.

Ren began walking slowly towards the prisoner. "I'm impressed...No one has been able to get out of you...what you did with the map," he finished, stopping before him.

Not-memory Poe gave Tony a side long look- "You seem to have a knack for picking the uncomfortable memories."

Tony hissed at the sight of Poe's abuse, expecting a dogfight if anything at the shift of the scene and not prepared for whatever this was. He recovered easily enough to approach the rack curiously, then the strange computers as he circled around to follow the new figure back through the room, sticking close to his dark hems to try to assess this person. "You could be better at warning a guy," he mumbled in reply. "This one seems enamoured with you," he pointed out, eyebrows raised. Tony could tell what was happening here, and he wasn't a stranger to his own torturers listing his accomplishments, but maybe that was only a sign the torture was about to get worse on Earth. This was a cultural exchange, Tony could be optimistic.

"Oh, definitely. He always has been," Poe's lips quirked in a teasing fashion, as though Kylo could hear.

The captive Poe looked up at Ren with a challenging stance. "You might want to rethink your technique."

Kylo Ren stared silently at him for a moment before lifting a gloved hand, and Poe's bravado faded a little as he eyed it, swallowing and shifting in his seat like he was preparing as the palm reached out, angled towards his head.

After a moment, Poe winced, and the air seemed to take on a certain pressure, like something dark was trying to bore its way inside your mind, a shadow of what the captive was feeling as he struggled and pants. Ren remained silent and abruptly he shoved his hand forward, an invincible force throwing Poe's head back hard against the rack.

"Ahh- hh" Poe stammered and panted, covered in sweat as that pressure built, playing out in that absolute silence.

Tony was close enough to watch the angle of the masked figure's arm, and the memory Poe's reaction beyond, clenching his jaw at the phantom pressure and narrowing his eyes at the display. He tensed further at the jerk of the memory's head, and threw a look Poe's way, eyebrows raised with the question and mouth a soft pout of apology for the pain. It didn't look unlike something Professor X could do.

"The Force," Poe explained softly, breaking that silence.

"Where is it?" Ren pushed, while Poe convulsed and sighed.

"...The Resistance...will not be intimidated by you- hhh-" he broke off with a wince as Kylo compelled Poe's head forward, the pilot struggling to remain stoic.

Kylo's fingers quivered with effort as he repeated, "Where. is it??" anger seeping into that calm. Poe trembled, jaw tight and brow furrowed as he fought this loosing battle, face twisting in agony before a low, long scream wass slowly dragged from him.

It cut to black and a moment latter they were back in place in the hangar.

"A lot of them are going to be like that," he cautioned properly.

The hangar felt invasively bright, and Tony gave his own shiver as they returned to it, eyes closed and breathing slowly to try to shrug off that scream. It wasn't incredibly convincing when he did, turning up to Poe with a twist of his mouth and still looking questioning, but he did let it go long enough to head for the ladder to join Poe up on the edge of the wing. Sitting close to Poe's shoulder, Tony brought a hand up behind him to run through his hair at the back of his head where it had knocked back against the rack, and pet down his neck to massage a thumb into the muscle. "War sucks. What, you think you're special?" he said.

It was the sort of casual intimacy Poe was used to bestowing on others, and he looked a little surprised, like he hadn't realized just how touch starved he was. His lips quirked upwards and he leaned against Tony to give him a little shove with his shoulder.

"Oh I know special," he countered with a laugh.

The shove had Tony dropping his hand quickly, leaning back against the wing casually with his hands safely occupied, hoping Poe had at least heard what Tony was trying to say regardless. He didn't seem too put off, and Tony smirked back at the laugh. "The best pilot in the Resistance, was it?" he asked, then gave a tap to the metal under his fingers. "Can she still fly?"

"Very best," he grinned cheekily, and gave the X-Wing a fond pat. "Don't see why not. None of this real, right? You wanna give her a go?" he asked, reaching over to find a spare helmet and tossing it Tony's way.

None of this was real, and in wouldn't be totally inaccurate to call Tony a pilot, but he still hesitated for a surprised beat as he caught the helmet. It didn't like there was room in there for more than one. Even with the threat of a fiery death, though, Tony's hesitation wouldn't have lasted long, because even outside of feeling oppressively grounded since he got to this awful planet, of course he wanted to try to fly the alien spaceship. "I'll be nothing less than a gentleman," he promised as he leaned back over to the ladder to retrieve the jacket he had spotted there, helmet tucked under his arm.

As his fingers closed around the leather they found themselves back in that cell. Poe had two storm trooper guards flanking him now, and a third entered through the doors to announce- "Ren wants the prisoner."

The shackles binding him to the chair released, and he was re-cuffed before behind handed off to the new trooper who marched him away at blaster point.

Leading him through corridors, he abruptly commanded, "Turn here," shoving him into a narrow passage way. "Listen carefully. If you do exactly as I say I can get you out of here."

"What?" Poe still seemed a little groggy from his torture session, and he frowned like he couldn't believe what the trooper was offering.

There was a hiss, and the soldier removed his helmet so he could look him in the eye. "This is a rescue. I'm helping you escape. Can you fly a TIE fighter?"

Poe's eyes widened, realizing he was serious, "You with the Resistance?"

The other man looked at him in confusion. "What? No, no, no. I'm breaking you out. Can you fly a TIE fighter?" he repeated urgently.

"I can fly anything," Poe interrupted, and the trooper gave a relieved laugh before Poe continued, "Why? Why are you helping me?"

He considered a moment before replying, "...Because it's the right thing to do."

Poe stared at him hard before concluding, "You need a pilot."

"I need a pilot," he admits, and Poe's face splits into a grin.

"We're gonna do this," he promises.

Tony tensed at the sight of the torture cell again, not eager to hear Poe's scream any more, but intrigued by these suits he could get much closer to now. He lagged slightly behind as Poe made his exit, up on his toes to examine the helmet of one of the guards that had stood with him before realizing they were moving and barely slipping through the doors before they closed. "What are they, some kind of hardened polymer-- not fiberglass, unless you made it lighter...?" he was saying, clearly not really paying attention to the conversation and cutting off abruptly as the guard took off his helmet. Tony was listening then, and looked over to the Poe with him to point after the guard as the Poe in the memory grinned. "He doesn't betray you, does he?" he asked, because there was a real pattern of heartbreak in all of the memories he had seen so far, Poe's or otherwise.

Poe chuckled, of course he would be caught up in the make up of the armor. "Plastoid composite," he supplied, "Along with some anti-blaster mesh, and magnetic shielding."

But to the more important question he shook his head, watching the unmasked trooper fondly. "Never."

Poe's cuffs were undone and the trooper put his helmet back on, marching Poe through the ship to a large hangar. It was very little like the one they'd left back on D'Qar. This huge, with various officers and storm troopers, the walls stretching high above them, and a large view port showing the expanse of space outside.

"Stay calm. Stay calm," the trooper muttered, blaster leveled at Poe's back as he marched them along. Poe held his wrists as those the cuffs were still active, looking determined. "I am calm."

"I'm talking to myself," the trooper hissed, earn a look from the pilot. "Not yet," he instructed as they passed a group of officers, "Okay, go. This way."

The two jog off to try and climb into one of the unguarded TIE fighters, and the Poe that isn't part of the memory grinned at Tony. "You're going to get your flight after all, let's go."

That was a pleasant surprise. That this new guy wasn't another source of pain, and that this memory wasn't going to careen directly into some new war crime but instead a getaway car. Tony didn't need Poe to encourage him any further, gladly scrambling after the pair in the memory, but had to ask, "What part of this made you trust this guy?" with a laugh, because the turncoat guard didn't seem reassuringly competent with this escape plan.

"I just...felt it. I dunno," Poe shrugged a shoulder, not able to really explain, "And at this point, if I was wrong then I died a little bit sooner than I was all ready going to, so...not a super big risk on my part, if I'm being honest."

Sliding into the cockpit, the seats were set up back to back, and Poe shrugged off his jacket, looking around the controls eagerly. "I've always wanted to fly one of these things," he muttered excitedly, despite the situation they were in. He turned to crane his neck back towards the trooper, who was pulling off his helmet again in the gunner chair. "Can you shoot?"

"Blasters, I can."

"Okay, same principle," Poe coached, turning on switches, "Use the toggle on the left to switch between missiles, canons and mag pulse. Use the sight on the right to aim. Triggers to fire," he laid out calmly, and the soldier looked a bit panicked, taking hold of the controls with a nod.

"This is very complicated," he concluded anxiously.

The TIE fighter jerked, and Poe steered them from the dock, stopping short abruptly as they were still anchored by a cable.

"I can fix this," Poe assured, alarms blaring.

The lurch made Tony look sidelong at Poe then ask, "And what part of this," with a circling finger at the general situation in the memory, "was making him trust you?" The enthusiasm for trial by potentially literal fire was charming, but the other guy in the armor looked too anxious to appreciate the trait.

"Well he's stuck now, isn't he?" Poe dismissed, elbowing Tony in the ribs for his cheek and flashing him a grin.

The storm troopers in the hangar opened fire on the escaping TIE fighter as Poe continued to try and force them free, his companion figuring out the controls and firing back. Outside there was a series of explosions as he held his own.

"I got it," Poe announced finally, sounding confident, and the cable snapped, letting them soar from the hangar. There was considerable momentum, and even Poe seemed taken aback for a moment.

"Woah! This thing really moves!" he exclaimed, looking half exhilarated and half terrified.

The TIE fighter swooped around, flying along the Star Destroyer's belly.

"All right, we gotta take out as many of these cannons as we can, or we're not going to get very far," he instructed.

"All right," the trooper confirmed.

"I'm gonna get us in position. Just stay sharp."

He weaved to avoid gun fire.

"Up ahead! Up ahead! You see it?" he calls, getting them lined up, "I got us dead center, it's a clean shot."

"Okay, got it-" the trooper muttered, working the controls and locking onto his target. Poe served to avoid the cannons shots as he fired, dodging their explosions. The trooper shouted with excitement. "Yeah!!"

"Yes!" Poe echoes, equally thrilled with his shot.

"Did you see that?! Did . you. see. that?" he continued, and Poe laughed, grinning widely as they soared.

"I saw it!"

The weaved away from the massive Destroyer, swooping to avoiding more gunfire.

"Hey, what's your name?" Poe finally asked, not quite out of danger, but this was as good a chance as any.

"FN-2187," the trooper answered, and Poe's brow quirked, trying to look back at him.

"F-...what?"

"That's the only name they ever gave me," he answered with a shrug, and Poe considered for a moment.

"Well I ain't using it. FN, huh? Finn. I'm gonna call you Finn. Is that all right?" he proposed, struggling again to try and look back at his new friend.

"Finn. Yeah. Finn, I like that. I like that," the newly dubbed Finn decided.

"I'm Poe. Poe Dameron," the pilot introduced with a grin, the exchange well over due.

"Good to meet you ,Poe."
"Good to meet you too, Finn."

Edited (word) 2020-06-30 02:24 (UTC)

Tony took the ribbing as an opportunity to wrap an arm around Poe to keep them both steady, hand clutched in his shirt, the other braced on the ship, keeping him close as Tony tried to track everything from the array of the cockpit to the weaponry and the lure of space around them. It was when Finn accepted his name that Tony finally looked back at Poe with a lopsided smile, watching him for a beat before admitting, "He's pretty cute," now that he had seen less anxiety and more excitement from Finn, and realized from that introduction what this memory was doing in Poe's hangar.

Poe's cheeks may have grown a little hot, but he didn't bother with any denials, he just grinned and bit at his lower lip with a shrug. "Yeah, he is."

The steadying hand might not have been entirely necessary, but Poe accepted the brace without compliant, laughing and looking pleased with how excited Tony seemed to be by all of this.

The memory faded, Poe wanting to end it in a happy place, and maybe not show off his crash when he was trying to hold up that image of being the best pilot in the Resistance.

"The X-wing's a lot smaller."

So who talks first? | Calibrations

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