Lead

[in_extremis]

WHO: Tony, Richie, open in theory*
WHERE: Coruscant. A bar.
WHAT: A pair of addictive personalities walk into a bar.
WHEN: Mid-field trip?
WARNINGS: I don't know how dark this will actually get, but they're definitely going to talk about addiction a lot, and Tony is more self-destructive than usual.
*: I know I haven't had a normal open post in a wHile, so sorry about this one targeted prompt. I know no one ever takes the wildcard option, but really, now is the time, hit me up, I'm just floundering a bit in this event.


Jon did help. He did. Jon could also sense Tony's anxiety like a soft, marshmallow filling, and if Jon was going to continue to be so helpful, it was probably in Tony's best interest if he didn't know how profoundly pathetic Tony was. He was used to doing this on his own, anyway. The code was in the framework.

Isolating himself on the ship hadn't exactly worked out, but Tony thought he could maybe apply the same theory to a stale, narrow bar buried a few feet under the hotel. A whole planet to explore, and not a lot of time to do it, who would be sticking so close at this point? Tony knew he wouldn't be, if he didn't feel like his wings had been clipped. Steve was gone. It was going to get worse from here.

The bartender left a slimy trail in their wake as they moved up and down their space, like a snail making its way along the counter, ignoring Tony by now and leaving him to watch blindly as they swept by, then the discharge oozed incrementally toward where Tony had propped his elbows, then was mopped up by the tendril they used to carry a stained rag trailing behind themself. It splattered with a reliable regularity into a bucket at either end of the counter. It was revolting, but Tony was starting to find some peace in it, measuring the consistency of the slime in the way it pooled and was gathered in the sweep of the cloth. It was a very different kind of peace than the one Tony had slammed his head against by watching the way the liquid in the bottle of 'strongest you have', whatever that was, caught the low light and flashes of neon that filtered their way into the bar. He wasn't sure how long ago he had ordered it, but there were already two cigarette butts wilting in the melting ice of the glass that it had come with, and the third he had largely forgotten about burnt close to his knuckles.

The bartender also didn't speak any structured language, though it seemed to understand just fine. It was the snarling grunt that they hurled at another man that knocked Tony out of his reverie, blinking slowly at the guy raising his hands in surrender with a nervous laugh and insisting he was definitely going to pay, just slipped his mind, is all. It was dark enough in here that Tony knew it was a blanket invitation to get away with plenty that wouldn't be welcome closer to the surface, but even the snail-guy had their limits. They were still grouching in a low growl as the came sweeping in front of Tony again, not even slowing down as Tony tried to ask, "Got any more of these?" with the last of the cigarette brandished. They would probably be back, Tony thought, as he watched them go. Maybe.

Comments

Armor Buddies

[heypartner]

Cobb stopped short and frowned. The man sitting on the crate next to the Bloodsport had what looked to be a Mandalorian arm guard in his hands and was... sniffing... the metal. A second later he touched his tongue to it and then considered the taste.

Well, that was wildly disrespectful. And how in the stars did one of their own get beskar without being a Mandalorian? Cobb invited himself over to investigate.

"Whatcha got there?" he asked as he wandered over as casual as he pleased. "Looks like a good piece of armor."

Though maybe not beskar like Cobb first thought. Now a little closer it was definitely Mandalorian styled but not quite. Having worn Mandalorian armor for five years he was pretty familiar with it.

Actually... it looked like durasteel... huh...

[in_extremis]

There had to be something in the compound that Tony had never encountered before, like the mysterious magazine in Echo's rifle. The guy who had whistled him off of the street and insisted this was the strongest metal in the galaxy didn't have a great answer for him, apparently baffled by Tony's questioning of what exactly it was, and had a story about legendary warriors that were not knights, stop asking, just buy this amazing armor. BB-8 couldn't help him much because there wasn't any overlap in their languages for the droid to explain exactly what Tony was holding, despite rolling around the crate anxiously while Tony inspected his find. "Hey, you have a torch, don't you...?" Tony had just asked him as Cobb strolled closer, making a very helpful flame spring out of the droid just in time for him to turn toward the man while Tony tried another lick.

It was thus, with the droid alight and Tony's tongue on the metal, that Tony raised his gaze to the man, then cast a glare down at BB for not warning him. BB chirped indignantly and Tony dropped the bracer to his lap, clearing his throat. "Don't actually know," he admitted, which would have been incredibly thrilling if Tony didn't feel like he had just been caught in a compromising position. "The guy who sold it kept on insisting he was a busker, so it can't be that good." That didn't make it any less interesting to a guy with boring Earth metals.

[heypartner]

Astromech droids had a lot of uses though Cobb was fairly certain the torch wasn't for actually shaping metal. Or any analysis of metal.

"You sure he wasn't talkin' about beskar?" Cobb clearly enunciated the word just to make sure the man heard correctly. "It's a rare metal. Only comes from one place in the galaxy."

And this was before the Mandalorian homeworld was glassed according to Din so Cobb was pretty sure it was still tightly controlled by the Mandalorians. It would be something for a street vendor to get a piece.

"And that's styled close to what I know beskar is made into. But, don't know, got a feeling. You mind if I take a look?" he asked, holding out a hand with his most charming grin in place. "If I run off your droid there can scorch me."

[in_extremis]

Tony had, in general, no idea what BB-8 or and of the array of his abilities were actually for. Poe hadn't left him with an instruction manual, and it hadn't occurred to Tony to ask what his purpose was. He had been thrilled to offer the torch, though, and retracted it with some disappointment once it had become clear that Tony was distracted with this conversation, and rolled forlornly behind the crate to carefully scorch the edges of it instead.

Meanwhile, Tony tipped his head thoughtfully, trying to remember the flurry of conversation he'd had with the armor-seller in a language he was learning on the fly, and considered that maybe the guy had tried to carefully enunciate at Tony like he was an idiot in a very similar way. Not precious at all about his mysterious acquisition, he gladly handed the metal off for inspection, twisting around to spot the droid again and more concerned about explaining, "Oh, he's not mine. He's being punished, I'm his punishment. Are you a Jedi?" Most of the people who knew what the hell was going on in this place seemed to be, the chances felt high.

[heypartner]

Cobb chuckled deeply. "Oh, no, no. I ain't no Jedi." Did he look like one of those robe wearing space wizards? He had his durasteel on and sure the cape was dramatic but it wasn't Jedi robe dramatic. "I was a marshal back before getting snatched here."

He turned the piece of armor over in his hands, testing the weight, and the feel of it. It was not beskar. Beskar was heavier than what he held in his hands. And it lacked a... a warmth.

"This feels like durasteel. Not beskar." He handed it back to Tony. Once he took it Cobb undid the armguard he had on and held it out. "Compare 'em. They're pretty alike. Mando's your expert on beskar but I wore it for a few years and pretty sure that's not it."

[in_extremis]

The only Jedi that Tony knew who was committed to a robed aesthetic was Kenobi, who had insisted to Tony that he wasn't really about being a Jedi anymore. Nor was Tony under the impression that having a job would be in direct conflict with being a Jedi, so this correction baffled him enough that, for the moment, he largely wasn't processing what Cobb had even actually told him.

He bounced up curiously to lean over the armor as Cobb ran his very scientific tests, hoping to see what the good marshal saw, and repeated the motion as he handed it back to Tony in case that helped. 'Durasteel' definitely told Tony more, if it could be trusted to tell him anything at all, and Tony tried, "Iron, carbon, cobalt...?" with his eyebrows raised for Cobb to fill in the blanks for him. While he was more than happy to take the beskar sample, he was quickly tucking both of the bracers under his arm as he said, "The guy with the helmet!" Mando had been pretty hard to miss, and Tony spun around to search through his new pile of mystery metal to melt down, to find the similar helmet that he had been arguably fooled into purchasing and show it off with pride. "This thing is incredible, you could run it on an Etch A Sketch, I've never seen anything like it." Tony was pretty sure Sputnik was more elegant. There was an antenna on the helmet.

It was then that he abruptly noted, as though it had anything to do with the armor he held, "So, you're either a soldier or a Jedi, who are soldiers," not sure how else to interpret 'marshal'. "But none of you are knights. That's...something else," was about as far as he got from the armor-seller's insistence that nothing they were talking about had anything to do with knights, which didn't exactly fit in with Tony's developing understanding on the whole focus of expanding, colonizing, and spreading the good Jedi word.

[heypartner]

"Uh, it's a zersium and steel alloy. Real good against slugs and kinetic damage. Not the best against blasters. Weaker than some titanium alloys but good for most uses." Cobb had worked with durasteel mining carts and drill tips for years. He knew the stuff as sturdy and reliable.

He blinked for a moment when the man just took the armguard and kept it. He didn't think anything he had on hand would actually damage it. At the worst he could chip the enamel color coating.

It was also possible this man was... insane? He certainly talked fast and in a way that was a little hard for Cobb to follow.

"No, I ain't a soldier. Marshal's a lawman. I protected a town and kept the peace. Jedi are... well, they're mostly diplomats and warriors from what I know." Cobb really didn't know much beyond that.

And since Tony had his armguard Cobb felt it fair to pick the helmet out of his hands and examine it for himself. "Yeah, looks like a lot of the electronics have been ripped out. Probably had at least a range finder and night vision at one point based on what's left inside."

He tucked it under his arm and gave a pointed look to the armguard Tony still had a hold of.

[mrsklover]

Richie hadn't been here for long. For him it had been maybe a month since taking down Pennywise and two days being yanked out by his ass to this weird place. Maybe it was because of that fact he was so antsy, still. Maybe it was because his best friend who died in his arms was now somehow sleeping in a room nearby. Either way, Richie's mind was racing at all times and couldn't be quieted no matter what he tried to do. So, what did one do when they needed to relax and couldn't? Well. What did they do when they had no drugs and no willing partner for bed?

Bars.

Richie pushed into one that looked like a nice, quiet dive. It was dark and full of more weird ass aliens, sure. But it was close to the hotel so if he got wasted he could stumble back no problem. He moved toward the counter where a fucking snail was moving around, he guessed. Whatever. He couldn't care about that because that would mean he needed to care about a lot of weird shit he's seen and ignored throughout the day. There wasn't enough time or liquor for all that.

Richie sat down right when the guy next to him asked for a cigarette. Yeah. Yeah, that sounded pretty good, actually.

"One for me, too, if you have? And then a glass of something strong that I can chug, eh? And something else to drink while I wait for it."

He glanced at the guy next to him and gave him a short nod. Human, at least. Good start.

"What's good here, huh? Or at least what won't kill me? I don't trust some of those bottles up there. Pretty sure I saw an animal floating in one..."

[in_extremis]

This was not supposed to be the kind of place someone walked into to strike up a conversation, making Tony narrow his eyes in irritation behind his dark glasses before taking a steadying enough breath to manage a casual shrug. At least that American-accented English suggested Tony wasn't going to have to navigate too many weird cultural barriers to get out of what this exchange was supposed to be, because he knew nudging the untouched bottle toward the guy was going to look incredibly inviting.

"I'm not going to suck your dick," Tony clarified, then gave the bottle another tap; a purely altruistic offer. "You'll need your own glass," he added, because this one was full of ash, and Tony made the problem clear by dropping the butt of his cigarette into it.

The bartender had slithered out of sight by then, which Tony stared after curiously, having not yet seen them disappear in this way and not sure what to make of it. The glass was going to be a problem then.

[mrsklover]

Richie looked at the glass with the ash in it and narrowed his eyes, confused. "You do realize you can't drink with all that shit in the glass, right?" He waved down the bartender when he looked like he was coming back over and gestured toward the glass. He had no idea if the message got across though because the alien just slithered away again as fast as it had arrived.

Alone with the other guy, Richie laughed a hollow, nervous sound and shook his head.

"Uh. Thanks for the offer but I am not looking for that. At all. Seriously, not at all. Did I seriously give you that impression from a single comment? Shit."

[in_extremis]

Gosh, maybe Tony should have thought of that and the bottle he had been sitting in front of just waiting for this guy to turn up and help him out wouldn't have been so full anymore. How much of that was communicated from behind Tony's sunglasses was probably minimal, but Tony still left him to squirm under a silent judgment for a beat longer before allowing a lopsided shrug for the very anxious protestation.

"You got a better reason to be here?" he suggested to help the guy out of this hole he had dug himself. That would have been a more effective mask to wear than wondering how one went about propositioning someone.

[mrsklover]

Tony's silence was nerve-wracking but Richie was far too used to making awkward moments to let it impact him too much. The glass gets dropped off as well as what he ordered before. Richie tips the smaller of them back so he can fortify himself. It's strong enough that he winces but not enough that he needs to cough.

"I mean. Yeah. I think getting sucked out of my universe, slammed on a run-down planet, and then dragged out and brought to sci-fi world deserves a drink. Then add in the whole 'dead best friend is apparently alive and kidnapped here too' and. Yeah. Drinks sound like a good idea after all that."

[in_extremis]

Tony was noticeably still as the guy knocked back his drink, watching out of the corner of his eye and for a spare few seconds not tapping his toe or drumming his fingers idly. The minute movements resumed as the man spoke, a rhythm like morse code tapped against Tony's chest as he clicked his tongue and plucked up a new cigarette from the delivered plate of loose darts then muttered, "Christ." It was worse than being propositioned; it was another one of the Lost Boys.

"Time is weird for us," he eventually admitted around his hands and into the flare of the lighter that he plucked from his pocket. His eyebrows flashed up above his glasses then, not a lot he could say about being confronted with someone he thought was dead but very sure that wasn't the kind of trauma that was easy to deal with in this situation. "Have you met the twins yet? One's, like, a decade older than the other one." That definitely didn't help, surely there was plenty of wild shit for this guy to discover and never figure out how to deal with. An alternative, then: "Wait until he leaves." Yeah, that's the right thing to say.

Misadventure

[deal_me_in]

It wasn't a common occurrence, but it wasn't terribly unusual for there to be a power flux in the city. Lights flickered and a tower-block went out for maybe a minute before back-up generators kicked in and then everything came back on, life continued as normal- if it had paused at all to begin with, without care nor likely concern for whatever might have happened to cause it in the first place.

She had never thought she'd ever be alone again, as the start of every Ghost's journey began. She was one of the lucky ones, a Ghost who had found her Guardian when many others were still seeking theirs, or had died trying. Guardians could lose their Ghosts, the weaker vessel, but it was a rare thing for a Ghost to lose their Guardians. And yet somehow, she had.

Ghosts were said to usually be the opposite of their Guardians in demeanor, all the more emphasizing two parts of the whole that they'd become. Sundance certainly came off as such, much more reserved in words than her Hunter, speaking only when necessary. Still, she possessed as much of a daring streak as Cayde as though he'd rubbed off on her for all the hundreds of years they'd been running around together. Still, she knew better than to think she could do anything on her own.

The words that were transmitted to Tony Stark were underlined with an undeniable tone of urgency, and if she'd been there to say it in person she possibly would have been right in his face. "He's been taken. Assistance requested." The same message was forwarded in text to his tablet, along with coordinates that brooked no time for hesitation.

The location happened to be within the area of the brownout some time ago, just a few levels down from Coruscant's upper crust, nestled down an alley past a slightly questionable marketplace.

I don't know why this was difficult for me, don't look at me

[in_extremis]

The marketplace would have been a shock to the system if Tony wasn't already overloaded with adrenaline. As it was, he didn't make much of an impression among the strange shoppers and wares, largely equally wild-eyed as a rule and with far more fantastic finds to whisper about than the man spinning among the awnings to get his bearings, wearing a hotel bathrobe over a t-shirt meant for someone several sizes smaller than him. It hadn't been in any of Tony's foreseeable plans to leave the dark den of his bed any time before he could be assured that the world, whichever one they happened to be on, was capable of spinning without Steve on it, and, further, that Tony could not be offended by that concept, but he hadn't anticipated being contacted by Sundance. In the second he finally allowed himself to think about it over the sound of alarm bells ringing in his skull, trying to map his way out of the third dead end he had stumbled into in this market, he was pretty sure she could have said literally anything to him and it would have caused him to panic and bolt out the door without planning. 'He's been taken' was just slightly more surprising than how she took her tea.

When he did finally find the alley, Tony bounced without hesitation out of the tight maze bodies, only slowing slightly as he noticed the fungus growing up the walls that he had assumed from a distance was some kind of decorative moulding. It had him veer away from one side with his lip raised in concern that he was breathing the spores, then the other when he realized he was flanked. "Sundance!" he hissed, hugging the slightly-less-white-than-before robe tightly around himself and hunching his way down the alley then. "If this is some kind of prank, I will sell you for parts myself."

/*me watching log* https://i.pinimg.com/originals/77/88/7a/77887a4d8125bdf6d1131ddbb17bbb0e.jpg

[deal_me_in]

A light sparkled from behind a shadow that revealed itself to be an old, abandoned crate gathering rust and grease that it was probably nearly melded to the floor and wall. The red and gray Ghost floated up and towards him, her points expanding slightly around her core suggesting the widening of an eye. Dismissing his threat, she circled him, considering his chosen attire and deciding that she'd attribute it to his haste to find her. With something like a nod, she turned and flew back down to the crate, nudging something out from behind it: Cayde's beloved hand cannon.

"We were being tailed," Sundance finally spoke. "There were only ten of them. Cayde didn't count on them bringing the equivalent of an EMP grenade. He had enough sense to have me recompile before I felt him black out. From what I overheard, the ones who took him are either working for or trying to do business with a crime syndicate called Black Sun."

jail for mother for one thousand years

[in_extremis]

The light of the Ghost was a complex relief, enough to make the tension drop out of Tony's shoulders at the sight of her as he jogged closer, only for his chest to tighten with renewed anxiety at how delicate she looked on her own. Was it more surprising that whoever managed to get the drop on Cayde managed to separate him from Sundance, or the gun? Tony collected it swiftly, checking to ensure it was still in one piece and loaded as she explained, and raised an eyebrow as he tucked the gun away inside of his robe to parrot, "Only ten."

Okay, Black Sun, that was plenty of information. "Can you still feel him?" Tony asked, willing to skip the discovery phase if they could get straight to the judgment. He could take ten guys, too, easy, nothing to worry about.

nyoooo now we perish from starvation for sure

[deal_me_in]

"He managed to deal with most of them." That would account for the six missing bullets in the thirteen round cylinder. Her view of the odds clearly showed a streak of Cayde's influence, if not her confidence in her Guardian's abilities. "They might have heard about our involvement in some clear-out jobs with Echo some levels down." She hovered almost anxiously by Tony as he picked up the Ace of Spades, probably uncertain as to whether he knew how to handle the oversized gun.

Her vertices twitched at the question, but she steeled herself as she took a moment to reassess. "Faintly," she admitted. "I wanted to follow them, but I wouldn't be able to do much on my own." Not to mention she'd put her Guardian more at risk if anything happened to her. "...the Light isn't as strong a connection for us. Not just here, but even back on Agra Ten. He won't talk about it, but if he is injured beyond repair, I don't know that I'd be able to bring him back."

Tony had saved them that experiment at cost of his own safety. Sundance remembered it well. It was enough to convince her that her Guardian's trust in the man wasn't misplaced.

"I know where they've gone. I hacked one of their datapads while they were busy 'cleaning up'," she said distastefully. She'd ping over the info she'd gathered, a snippet of exchanged messages about acquiring a rogue assassin droid of unknown make and model, talk about an auction along and coordinates for delivery once the target had been confirmed located. Levels deep. It was the underworld of Coruscant's underworld, Level 1313.

[in_extremis]

It might not have been quite as elegant as something Tony would have made, but he had spent enough quality time with the Ace of Spades to feel reasonably confident in handling it until it was back to where it belonged. Or maybe it needed to be confiscated until Cayde learned to behave, because Sundance had Tony staring incredulously at her before elaborating, "We've been on this planet, in this dimension, for two minutes, and you're already killing people." Maybe Cayde deserved more of that frustration, but, as far as Tony knew, he had managed not to shoot anyone while they were on Risa or the Graq planet. Either Sundance or Echo were the bad influence here. "Unbelievable."

Tony could put that issue aside enough to nod, mouth tense and looking aside, back up the alley from where he had come, as Sundance explained the gravity of the situation. "What are you waiting around for then?," he accused, then gestured for her to stick close and not get snatched out of the air. Experimentally, he bounced a message back to the cluster of information she sent him, There's one of those holes not far from here, drawing a map between them, their way down, and potentially their Exo in distress, that he was already out of the alley and navigating. If they could talk that way, this would all go much faster.

The spires of Coruscant had offered plenty thus far to hold Tony's attention. The marketplace was already deeper than he had explored yet, and as they made their way further down into the dark warren, Tony quickly realized just how alien this planet really was.

are you drunk or is it a wildcard

[theladyofwinterfell]

Sansa has discovered that if you want something on this planet, you immediately have twelve options. She wishes she had more gold in her purse when the Agrii decided to pull her back here because credits are thin and she cannot buy nearly the number of things she wants to.

There's also plenty of taverns.

There's rather nice ones, there's seedy ones, there's the ones in between. Sansa is trying her best to get her screaming son to stop doing that with yet another walk when she sees someone she recognizes. It's just a silhouette but she thinks it's Tony.

"Forgive me," she says, calling out over the sounds of speeders and her own screaming child, "But Tony? Is that you?"

successfully sooobeeeer (it's a song, get into it)

[in_extremis]

This wasn't exactly where Tony wanted to be in the moment, too loud and chaotic when he already felt like he had no control whatsoever, over himself, the situation, the universe in general. That might have seemed unreasonable and unattainable, but whoever had put him here, and decided who was staying and who was leaving, seemed to have plenty of control over all of those things. The sound of that kid's approaching impotent frustration had Tony nodding in agreement as he gave a final irritated tug to a door that in no way had indicated that it was locked, or that the establishment was closed, before he was backing away from it with a glare up at the signage. He hadn't really expected to get a response from that direction.

He spun on the voice with a similar irritation, not quite transformed into the appropriate surprise at hearing his name until he had tipped his sunglasses down his nose to squint at the mirage. "What...?" was the best he could manage at first, processing the familiar face and slightly less familiar baby at what felt like the speed of an Intel 4004. "Sansa?"

[theladyofwinterfell]

"Yes, I am Sansa," she says, smiling a little broader when he actually recognizes her. They'd had a fight, yes, but then she'd spent five months in Winterfell being cold and removed from everyone - a fight means nothing now. Not when there's a friend she's missed.

"Come here, you dolt," she says, closing some of the distance between them. "He's bigger and fussier because of his teeth but it's me and it's James and I'm a terrible queen because I'm happy to be back here and not in Winterfell."

[in_extremis]

Still not sure what to do with the data he was being offered, Tony went, "Oh," and numbly complied with--anything she wanted, first mirroring her step toward him, then closing the gap entirely with an arm around her less occupied shoulder, other hand up to press to James' back. It simultaneously felt like much less than five months and much, much more to Tony, making the reboot process a sluggish challenge until the contact charged his system. Then, of course, he was talking; "That must make me a terrible friend, then, because I'm happy you're here and not..." Well, he had considered plenty of much worse things in the bleak days following her disappearance that neither of them had to think about anymore. "What does that make you?" he diverted instead, voice pitching lower as though he could share a secret with James. "A terrible noise, so far, my god, the pipes on you."

[theladyofwinterfell]

"He is a terrible noise," Sansa says, laughing even though she's exhausted of James right now and exhausted of him teething. She'd tried offering her own hand and she could only manage that for a little while before giving up. She really needs to make him something to teeth on when they get back to Temba.

James, for his part, stops crying a little when he sees there's a new person and Sansa is relieved.

"Teething. He's miserable with it and I hate it for him. He's such a happy baby otherwise. Puts everything in his mouth, though."

[in_extremis]

"If you're lucky, he'll grow out of that one," Tony replied, focus only flashing off of James for a moment to shoot Sansa a wry grin, that growth hadn't happened for all of them, then back to the baby to try to keep him distracted with a dazzling smile. It wasn't a tactic that was nearly as effective on babies, and Tony didn't have much more to offer, in general, so he stepped back then, waving a hand toward the door that had thwarted him as Sansa approached. "I was just trying to find something to eat," he explained, though this particular establishment had proven unwilling to play along. "Maybe we can get him something to chill him out."