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WHO: Tony and...open? Look, I do see those other two open waterworld posts down there, I just didn't want to get this all over them.
WHERE: Tarf system! I'm assuming Keith would put the Bloodsport on waterworld, too.
WHAT: Mini-event, mega-breakdown! Tony is feeling sorry for himself, so he makes use of the local delicacies.
WHEN: During the pit-stop event.
WARNINGS: First of all, I'm sorry. Second, mind the alcoholism and a relapse situation, it's a little dark in here.

The thing was, it really didn't matter.

If someone asked Tony what he thought they were doing here, he didn't have a good answer for them, except that maybe some people were here as a mercy, away from a planet or dimension that was strangling them and they were barely on their toes. It didn't matter what he was doing here, because some kind of mistake had been made along the way, obviously, and the entities in charge of making these decisions had made a severe miscalculation of his worth to this group that they were gathering. If it mattered at all, he was the rope.

The thing was, he wasn't really accomplishing anything anyway. The most material production he could claim was a few bullets, ever the weaponeer under the slightest bit of pressure, born out of a problem of his own making and a total lack of resolve for the slightest moral engagement. It was even worse knowing from Reeve that he should have been capable of being better than that. If he was worth anything, it was supposed to be that he was smart enough to be better than that. He hadn't really been from the start; making weapons was what he was best at, and what he always did, and the jewel in his bloody crown was the repulsor that he pretended was a clean energy system until that slight pressure.

And the thing was, Tony was the only one really pretending otherwise. Steve knew well enough to get out when he had the chance, that he wasn't really happy in the world Tony was building for him, and none of Tony's glittering visions of the future were ever going to be realized while he suffocated them under his control. Tony had maybe a few more months, back home. He knew what was coming, he always did. The dazzle of Tony's manipulation was going to wear off quick without the support of the Illuminati, and he was going to be standing alone trying to convince Steve that the whole world saw them as weapons.

That's the thing, the real thing boring a void through Tony's chest that he thought he could slap some duct tape on and ride out until something else could take him out first. Everyone figured it out eventually, that they were better off keeping their distance. Jon was smart, and bore the vastness of the present the same way Tony adopted the eternity of the future. The dazzle shouldn't have worked as long as it did. Reeve had done him one better and figured it out for him, knew there was only one place that path led, and Tony still dragged him back down it with a razor smile. Sansa was mourning, for god's sake. Maybe he did it on purpose. Nothing obsessed Tony and made that void grow sick on its own emptiness like the vulnerable flutter of his scarred heart at the sound of Jon's compelling voice.

The thing was, if Hellrung was here to say any of this to, he would recite the Prayer at Tony and Tony wouldn't be able to tell him if it was the serenity, the courage or the wisdom he intended to find in this bottle. It was just the first of several that Tony had slowly accumulated, not intentionally at first. Space, the ships, the whole new planets, that all should have been thrilling his heart to bursting, and he bounced down onto the sand fully intending to make good use of his sunglasses and at least pretend at what he was supposed to be doing. He knew Jon wasn't handling the ships well, and maybe if Tony found something here that would make the trip easier, maybe Jon would accept it and talk to him again. The natives were more than happy to watch Tony rehang a door that was slowly slouching out of its frame, then laugh at the face he made at a whiff of the leather and offer a drink instead. Good stuff, they said, takes the sting right out of the nostrils, and maybe out of being cramped in a spaceship that wasn't easy on the nerves. He came back for another, this time coaxing a winch back into repair that had snapped and left a net of still flapping fish on the dock as he worked, after he couldn't bring himself to go looking for Jon with just one bottle in hand. This wasn't a one bottle problem he had caused.

His fingers were pricked with splinters and his toolbelt notably lighter by the time Tony reclined on the sand with half a dozen bottles propped up in it next to him, holding one up to the sunlight curiously to watch the liquid refract inside.

The thing was, it didn't really matter what he did now. It wasn't going to change anything.

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A shadow suddenly fell over him, and an oddly shaped one at that.

Here and there Raphael had caught a glimpse of the man busying himself with the locals. He'd seen him come from one of their ships to know he was part of their odd ensemble of supposed heroes.

The turtle had been doing his own end of bargaining and bartering. While he was no handyman, he could do a fair bit of heavy lifting, and one local had been very happy to have help in getting their stuck pet out of the top of a thirty-foot tree. What Raphael came back with was a slightly larger inventory that made him feel a lot better for at least some of the things he'd come without.

He'd been on his way back to the ship with his latest acquisition, a quiver of arrows (he could do without the quiver- seriously, what is that smell?!) and a bow, when he'd seen the figure splayed out on the beach. The glint of bottles surrounding the man had not gone amiss.

Flat on his back in the smooth sand, breathing in the ocean air and basking in the heat of the sun and practically meditative, at complete peace, basically a monk, this was an incredible idea, the unexpected intrusion of the shift of light through his eyelids made Tony's brow pinch in irritation. He was nirvanaing here. Reluctantly, he squinted one eye open to know who it was that had no respect for his enlightenment, then didn't move any further for a very long time. It was true that this was a difficultly reverse image to parse, and that Tony might have been dealing with some mild heatstroke and dehydration that had only a little bit to do with the alcohol, but there was no way he was looking at a big turtle.

Eventually, he tried to cock his head in the sand to get a better look at this intruder, twisting it to the side and not getting much better results. He had seen plenty of large lizards in his life, this could have been worse, surely there was a reasonable explanation for this apparition. "You're not what I think God would look like," he easily ruled out. That wasn't something he'd ever thought very hard about, but if pressed in this exact moment, if there was a God, Tony was sure it would be an atom. "Too big," he reported.

"...."

That had to be the strangest first reaction he'd ever had from anyone. His red bandanna bunched at the middle as his brow furrowed behind it, green eyes casting a dubious look at the man. Finally Raphael leaned back, still staring down at him.

"You're already marinated, I think it's time for you to flip over before you get well-done."

The turtle man may have been correct, but the turtle man had little respect for physics and not accounted for how difficult it was to move after being completely inert. Although Tony did make a valiant attempt to flip over, he got as far as lifting one shoulder then frowning, nope, not gonna happen, with a, "Hm," to explain the really very interesting science of it. "Aren't you supposed to be in the water?" he asked. The mysteries of the animal kingdom were not Tony's area. "Or is that tortoise-men? That's the difference, right? Turtle-tortoise. I heard, once, that tortoises are so delicious, it's illegal to eat them. That's why. Because they're amazing."

Raphael watched the guy flop around half-heartedly like a dying fish, unimpressed.

"I've got better things to do than go for a swim. Also, I wouldn't try eating me even if I was a tortoise. Granted I don't slap the sunburn off of you, I'm sure it's a bad idea eating mutant turtle."

Folding his arms, he tilted his head at the upside-down man. "You gonna lie there and cook all day?"

"You're a mutant," Tony breathed, as though this were some obvious revelation, only to wince and offer, "Wow, sorry," because he couldn't imagine being born as a human boy and having that human boy childhood only to suddenly grow a shell. That must have been a real shock. It occurred to Tony that he should furnish the mutant with an answer eventually, and said, "You don't want to go for a swim with me? You kind of stink."

"Sorry for what? Considering eating me? The turtle soup threat's kinda old anyway."

Raphael shrugged, a brow hiking up again as the man spoke up again. "Says the guy that could peel paint with his breath," he noted flatly. "I'm sure you'd have a certain smell about you too if you hadda live in New York's sewers for sixteen years."

"I wasn't going to eat you," Tony corrected graciously. "Darwin was. I think." That wasn't important, he was long gone and had no concept of homo superior, his vision of the future was pinprick narrow and Tony's was far too expansive. Tony frowned and gave another reluctant sniff to the air with mild disbelief.

"That's what that is?" he asked dubiously, because he had spent more than his fair share of time in sewers and they didn't really smell like that. That was more of the rotting feet smell of what the locals seemed to think was a perfectly respectful way to present their wares. "You've been shopping," he corrected.

The turtle teen blinked. "-oh. That. Yeah." He'd almost forgotten. With a slump of a shoulder he lets the quiver slide down and dangle about his elbow.

"Yeah, I don't know what it is about their leather stuff. If it's even really that. This stuff smells worse than some of the things Mikey eats, and that's saying something." He would never be able to understand how his little brother could stomach some of the things he did.

There wasn't anyone around here called 'Mikey' as far as Tony knew, and, to be far, he hadn't heard about a giant turtle until now, either, but it did finally make Tony force himself up into a sitting position to ask, "Who?" More troublingly, this wasn't just an outcropping of the Agra 10 community that he had somehow not noticed, because Tony did have to suddenly acknowledge, "I'm from New York." They had that in common, which was a rare trait on this planet. Assuming the population density was observable in their limited experience, that made the amount of people in this star system who could claim Native New Yorker approximately 0.0000000076%. Assuming none of the locals were expats. "Who?" Tony repeated with that context, as though he knew anyone worth knowing in either Temba or New York, which was true.

"Yeah? Cool. Did your New York get invaded by pink, brain-looking aliens with tentacles?"

It was one thing to say you were from New York. Another thing entirely to be from the same. Raphael was no stranger to alternate realities. Still, there was some strange comfort in having familiar ground of a kind.

"Who... Oh. My little brother. He's not here. None of my brothers are. Just me."

Tony had to think about that one, and could only get as far as, "There have been lots of tentacles," confidently. Some of them were pink, surely. The incident was too vague and Tony couldn't say either way if their New Yorks shared this invasion history. "It's tentacles too often."

Unsteadily and very slowly climbing to his feet, hands out to work out his balance before he could draw himself up to full height, Tony was muttering, "Yeah, that's how it goes. You got a brother, not anymore. Unless you're Billy. Kid's suspicious." Solving his balance problem with an arm around the turtle, Tony said, "We'll be brothers. Coming in?"

Edited 2020-08-04 02:06 (UTC)

The response itself was pretty vague, and given the man's opening statements, Raphael wasn't sure how much he could take at face value. He gave a noncommittal shrug at that, deciding not to follow-up on the question of alien ceratopsians.

Tony was likely easily taller than the turtle once he managed to stand himself up, but Raphael was still a solid five-foot turtle enough for the man to use him for balance. "Who's that?" Aside from someone else stuck with them, that he assumed anyway. He tried not to wrinkle his nose now that there was absolutely no care for personal space, giving the guy an odd look.

"Right." Brothers, huh. "Didn't catch your name. And you mean back to the ship? What, you want me to carry you?"

"No--the water. Keep up," Tony said with some impatience, not sure what part of that had been difficult to follow. He had to manage his own weight long enough to square his shoulders with grand important, delicate hand to his chest to announce, "Tony Stark. You're going to hate me," and give a disarming smile. Equilibrium achieved at this stage, he started toward the ocean, expecting the turtle to have figured out his intentions by now or he was a lost cause. "Billy is the magic boy. Makes whatever he wants happen. Has lots of stuff he happens to want here. Do you have anything you want here? No," he explained.

Well, Tony was certainly a lot more coherent than other drunks he'd come across, although to be fair those were mostly street bums who really weren't very coherent to begin with. Rolling his eyes, the turtle teen grumbled as he accompanied him.

"Oh, if you wanted to go swimming I woulda been glad to have tossed you right in," he said. That was an interesting introduction. He smirked a little. "Raphael. Thanks for the warning. So that means if I end up punching you at some point, neither of us can say we're surprised, right?"

Before they got within range of the lapping waves, he dropped his things on the sand. Taking a quick dip didn't seem like a totally bad thing, especially after being stuck on a spaceship for so long.

"Magic boy with lots of stuff he wants. What is he, some kinda genie or something?" He scowled a little. "Don't gotta remind me. This whole thing sucks. I just got back from a six month space trip and suddenly I end up stuck on another alien planet. And now this."

This drunk had plenty of high-functioning practice and would insist he could still pilot a billion dollar weaponized suit of armor in this state, and it would be a convincing argument but he would be wrong. "Listen," Tony said about the punching, "I'm more surprised that you would be the first one here that did it. Just avoid the face. That's my good side." With a gesture to indicate that the whole area was his good side, all of the bad stuff was somewhere else, Tony came to a stop in the wet sand where he could wiggle his toes and greet the wash of the ocean with a small smile as it rolled up the shore.

Slightly less amicably, he asked, "You don't like space?" as though this was some kind of personal attack. "Space is amazing. Different planets. Different people. Different technology. Spaceships are so beautiful, I've never been on one I didn't fall in love with. Except maybe these ones. I don't know, I'm not...my ticker's broken, I think." Thoughtfully, fully clothed except for his shoes and toolbelt up on the beach among his bounty of bottles, Tony wandered further into the water then dropped to his knees.

Edited 2020-08-05 02:52 (UTC)

Just avoid the face. Raphael shrugged. "No promises. It's kind of a prime target."

His own stub-toed, bandage-wrapped feet splooshed in the waterlogged sand beside Tony. "The places in between space aren't bad," he conceded. "...and the people, I like some of the people." There was almost a bit of shyness to that second admission. He could narrow down the people he liked to one individual. "The last ship I was on was pretty sweet. Could travel way faster than the things we're stuck with now. We even traveled back in time."

He toed at the water, then lifted his head as he watched Tony nearly flop into it. "H-hey! You okay?" he asked as he splashed on over, clearly ready to haul the guy back onto the sand. He hadn't been all that sure that Tony was up for a swim in his state, which just made it more annoying that he couldn't leave him alone without worrying he might drown or something.

It was hard to miss the change in the aggressive tone of Raphael's voice, but soon Tony was flapping his concern away dismissively, nose scrunched in irritation for this display and irritably insisting, "Always." It was just water, and if a wave gathered tall enough to wash up above Tony's neck, he'd deal with that problem when it came. "Time travel," he acknowledged wistfully, "isn't that something. I built a time machine. Wasn't perfect, but I got to fight a dragon, I was basically a knight, except I couldn't put my helmet on. You ever fight a dragon? Only one without a job anymore is Fin Fang Foom. What's his problem? You're not related, are you, it's not, like...a lizard...thing...?" Space travelling talking turtle, space dragon, it was possible. As the next wave crashed into him, Tony slowly pitched himself over and onto his back to let it drag him further into the ocean. "'Mikey' would be a weird name for him, doesn't suit him," he continued as though he had cracked some code.

Raphael didn't take much effort to wave off. He gave Tony a slight splash as he waved off those insistent hands.

"Woulda been cooler if the reason we hadda go back in time wasn't to stop giant alien dinosaurs from destroying the Earth again," he muttered. Seeing it happen once had been terrible enough. "Dude, you fought a dragon? That's awesome. The only thing close enough that I've fought was a two-headed robot thing made to look kinda like a dragon. Was controlled by those brain aliens I mentioned earlier."

There was a bit of a pause as be considered the name of this dragon, his expression just saying 'really??' "No relation," he said, just in case it really had to be said, but he was more preoccupied with making sure Tony didn't drown.

"Giant alien dinosaurs sound like dragons," Tony suggested as he paddled out past the tug of the wave back to the shore. "Does that mean they destroyed the Earth before? Or...you had to travel back in time again?" He was trying his best to follow, honestly. It wasn't Tony's area to make any guesses about the likelihood of a mutant turtle's lifestyle. He wouldn't have assumed anyone would choose to live in the sewers, either, and this wasn't the first time he was surprised to find out he was wrong.

"...yeah. They used this black hole generator and it basically swallowed Earth from the inside out." It was an unsettling thing to watch, and Raphael knew they were very lucky to even get a second chance to stop it at all.

"Only had one more chance to stop it. And even then it was super close."

That was enough of the imagery for Tony to give an impressed whistle, running his own calculations on what he would do to handle an inner-black hole. Apparently, ignore it. He started to laugh, a humourless sound that at least got him to roll over and tread water instead of let the current take him where he floated, before he swallowed any salt. "Hey, you did it, you stopped it," Tony had to conclude from the details Raphael had provided. "What's the problem? Besides missing the after party. You know what, they're never that good anyway, you're all sore, you're having flashbacks of that bomb going off in your face every time someone drops something, you lucked out there."

"Yeah! Yeah we did," he said, nodding emphatically as he waded out further after Tony. "I'm glad that's off our shoulders. Just woulda liked to kick back and enjoy being at home a little after all that."

Raphael sighed, throwing his arms out at either side as he let himself fall back into the water, floating easily once he came back up. He bobbed along with the waves, deciding to try and relax a little.

Edited 2020-08-05 21:47 (UTC)

Hopefully, he could do that with Tony coming up close to him, hands under his shell and scrutinizing his face from the edge of the water like a submarine. The brief swim seemed to have sobered him enough to be more curious about Raphael's testudinal qualities, and calculating this visual data carefully. Whether this version of respect for personal space was a drunk thing or just a Tony thing would reveal itself rapidly.

"At home in the sewers," he eventually came up for air to say. "Are you a Morlock or something?"

Yeah, it was kind of hard to relax when you had a weirdo staring at you. An eye cracked open, fixing on Tony.

"Dude. What're you doing."

Raphael scooped a hand beneath the water, lobbing it in the man's direction. "No, I'm a ninja." As if that was the most obvious response. He continued to eyeball Tony. "What's a Morlock?"