revivalproject | affairs

Entry tags:

affairs

WHO: Anyone in or around Stark Industries, and the boss himself
WHERE: The very normal offices of SI, in The City
WHAT: Kind of an SI catchall, come do your business, this can be a mingle. Make a note if you're mingling or actually talking to Tony.
WHEN: Early Super Heroics event
WARNINGS: We abide by the comics code around here! I'll let you know if anything changes. This Tony is 'unaware' of his alcoholism, so tread lightly if that's a concern.

a. Boardroom [Open to anyone who could get on the schedule!]
This was the worst hangover that Tony could remember. Not that he clearly remembered most of them, but this one had to be bad--it had definitely been a long time since he felt so crushingly aware of the weight in his chest, struggling to catch his breath against the indifferent squeeze of the chestplate and around the useless, scarred limits of his lungs. Labouring to sit up left him sweating against the headboard like it was a whole morning jog, hand over the glow of the RT until he remembered how to breathe. The reliable morning cure stirred into his first coffee would fix that bug.

The kitchen was already fragrant with the fresh drip as Tony came shuffling through, ready for him to stare longingly at the filling pot with the waiting bottle of whiskey as he scrolled through the schedule on his phone without really looking at it. Someone had been diligently updating it as the morning ticked on, rearranging early meetings and quietly recording his time as 'R&D' as arranged for all of the times he abruptly left the office out of the sky-high windows. Development, it could be argued, was kind of happening, though the research had been thoroughly covered at this point. When Tony finally had the life-giving cup poured, he topped it with a generous splash of the outrageously expensive rye, then was blearily retrieving a carton of cream to finish it with a dollop, leaving him staring down into the swirl of fading white in the black coffee in bewilderment. He didn't even know he had cream. He watched the colour feather out a moment longer before taking up the mug to gulp carelessly, then the pot as well to bring along with him into the shower. It was about time he made his way to the office.

It was with a paper cup yet that Tony came tearing into the underground parking of the Stark Industries tower, one hand on the wheel and the other juggling his Starbucks and phone as he watched for who to expect on his way through the building. The subtle indicator of the chestplate's power ticked over to a shocking 98%, so he must have had it plugged in at some point last night and couldn't have been making entirely terrible choices. By the time he made it up to the executive suites, he was visibly wired (not the charging kind), impatiently glancing around for the first person he knew he could trust with a quick touch up for these bruises before he let himself into his twenty-minutes-ago meeting.

It was going to be fine. He was the perfectly coiffed and intimidatingly poised face of the company that he was supposed to be as he entered the meeting room with the disarmingly confident grin designed to make someone forget about any tough questions. "My apologies, let me get you a drink." Distracted by how to best duck around the people he knew would engage him in conversation as he made his way up, he had forgotten to check the ever adapting schedule.

b. Cafeteria [Open to employees or visitors!]
"Look out!"

A cat went bolting through the 'tearoom' cafeteria, 24th floor and typically kept muffled quiet behind the clear stretch of glass overlooking the lush botanical lab several stories below, the vines creeping up through the chamber toward the sunlight. The animal galloped silently across the imported carpets and wove deftly around tables and legs, but behind it rushed a much less nimble porter-bot. It upended tables, knocked into people trying to have their break or read through reports over a hot matcha, and stumbled through the deeper pile of the carpet until it was wheeling, thoroughly out of control, into the multi-story sheet of glass. Someone shrieked a warning over the chiming of rolling cutlery, but it wasn't enough to stop the bot from crashing its head into the window. It slumped, with a buzzing groan, to the ground, while a crack crept its way slowly up the glass.

The cat leapt up onto an abandoned seat where a pot of milk had been upended, head tilted slyly as it slowly cleaned a paw. The collar it wore brightened slightly as a cool voice said, "I tried asking nicely."

"They're not designed to be nice," Tony said of the sparking porter-bot as he came to stand over the cat, hands on his hips and frowning. He was out of his jacket by then, sleeves rolled up and knuckles already nicked, but had dutifully exchanged his shoes for slippers as he stepped into the tearoom and the crisis unfolded, despite the croissants now crushed into the carpets.

c. Outside+Presentation Hall [OTA, the doors are wide open]
The eldest of the scientists standing nervously beside their display units throughout the afternoon could have been 11, maybe 12. Most of the work didn't look nearly so juvenile; even the odd volcano experiment was much more than it seemed, and interested parties were solemnly handed protective goggles before they were invited to check the results for themselves. There was plenty of room in the hall and courtyard for the offerings to sprawl, some of them taking advantage of the room with massive tanks of water or winding tracks, most of the students offered the funding to explore their concepts and bring to the Stark Junior Expo unable to complete, or putting the money into more immediate needs. There seemed to be less kids every year. Tony tapped restlessly against his chest as he surveyed the hall from the edge of the stage where he sat, kicking his feet and squinting through his sunglasses out at the sunny yard. He knew most of the people weaving their way through the displays with their tablets, tallying marks for the final awards, but the event organizers tried to invite new faces every year and plenty of them were people Tony hadn't even met yet. Like the gal with the dreadlocks who kept on shooting him shy glances as she rounded an endcap nearest to him, clearly waiting for an introduction and the chance to explain her research on space debris. Or the one that hadn't taken her glasses off all afternoon, either, and had yet to look at her tablet as far as Tony could tell, keeping her face turned away from him as she moved throughout the space so he couldn't quite place her in the manifest.

"Mr. Stark. Hi. Greetings," Dr. Dreadlocks said breathlessly, surprising him out of his contemplation and into smiling warmly.

"Tony, please," he insisted, and missed the nameless judge slipping out of sight and behind the stage.

d. Reception [This is just the wildcard option]
There may be some very noninvasive security recording what you had for dinner last night based on the protein structure of your sweat as you walk through the doors, but the public facing entrance to the Stark Industries building is open, bright and welcoming, all glass and gold with the reassuring sound of a bubbling fountain coming from somewhere out of sight, and fragrant with carefully manicured gardens built into the clean edges. A smiling receptionist is ready to greet you and answer all manner of friendly questions. Much of this hall is open to tourists, some camera flashes already popping nearby, but were you looking for something in particular?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Iron Man shifted to try to get a better look at the marks that he passed a hand over, and started to shrug, definitely not the worst thing that had happened to him and vastly preferable to whatever that weapon was capable of doing to skin like the robot had intended. Tony might not have been a huge fan of this performance, but he wasn't about to have her sliced and seared for that lunch date, either. He didn't get the time to explain his boundaries, though, only starting, "Never seen her--" before her now grating cackle was filling the air once more and something pinged off of his helmet. It felt and sounded like a ball bearing, but hit hard enough to knock his head to the side and stagger him in surprise before several more were bouncing off of both of them.

Down the aisle, the woman had found a box and raised her mask enough to take in mouthfuls of the metal balls some kid had thought were just for their research project and had not intended them to be spit-covered projectiles.

Oh now what?! Cayde lifted an arm as he caught a glimpse of something shiny out of the corner of his eye. He ducked his head, raising up his other arm as he glanced over at the listing Iron Man.

"What is- eyew! Is she spitting those at us?!" He felt one ping off his forehead, hoping the things weren't leaving any marks. Looking around, he grabbed Iron Man to haul behind one of the overturned tables, nudging it into a better covering position. He had his right hand cocked like a gun without even realizing it. The feeling was still there, and he tried to focus it into something tighter, even if he still thought it was a longshot. But his hand was glowing and he was not about to wait for the spitballs to run out- he didn't have that kind of patience.

He rose around the makeshift cover and took aim, hoping he didn't get an eye put out for this, but his hands were poised, and even if he didn't have an actual gun the rest of him knew what to do, his aim was still sharp and the golden shots that blazed from his finger tip were short but effective bursts that intercepted several of the balls flying their way. His next shot was at whatever container had held the improvised ammunition, and the next aim was towards her feet to stave off further projectiles.

Getting pelted with mouth-bullets and being dragged around by the invading robot were about equally annoying to Iron Man, but he didn't have much control over either and did appreciate the cover despite grumbling. Kneeling behind the table, he could only listen for their attacker, trying to place her in the myriad of security cameras around the space at the edge of his vision while he watched the robot start to...glow. "Hey, woah--" Iron Man tried to intervene, but the robot was already up and firing, and Iron Man was left to bounce up after him to watch over his shoulder, hands on either one and leaning against his back like Iron Man might drag him back down behind the table. Shooting the box wasn't a terrible idea, though, spilling the tiny balls across the floor and making the woman snarl in frustration as she danced back away from the shimmering mess. She was hard to hear over the metallic rain, but Tony would bet a few cars on her goading them into a fight again.

"We've got to get her under control before the police arrive," Iron Man said, hoping the robot gathered the important beats--not kill, subdue, and help was on the way--before leaping up in a short burst of his jets that looked a lot like the jump Cayde had made before. He arced over the woman's head to land heavily behind her, effectively flanking her and leaving her half twisted toward him, attention divided. With Iron Man's hands up and palms glowing, the threatening whine of their charge filling the air, she was left unprepared for the unexpectedly shove of the gentle repulsor nudge that sent her slipping in the mess of ball bearings across the floor until she was splayed on her back among them.

He got the message loud and clear, what between Iron Man's intervention here and Sundance's playback of their discussion back on Coruscant. If Iron Man had ever seen his actual Golden Gun in action then he probably would have panicked a lot more. You didn't usually whip out the Solar fire for intercepting ball-bearings.

Cayde gave him a curt nod, remaining where he was even if he still felt a little silly just holding his hands like some kid would playing at shooting, but the flames had already died away. He edged around the table as Iron Man moved to block her off, and once she was brought to the ground, Cayde moved in to try pinning her down by her arms. Given how easily she'd flung things (including him!) he wasn't sure how much strength she actually had but at least he was better prepared.

"O-kay, I think that's enough, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" She didn't seem to like that much, and Iron Man made a largely inscrutable sound that was Tony sucking air through his teeth, hands still raised but lowered then to his hips where he gave a tiny wave of discouragement as though their frustrated opponent wasn't as perfectly angled as Cayde to see it. She roared and didn't bother trying to brute her way out of Cayde's hold, but rocked her hips up to grab Cayde around the ears with her thighs to suplex him over her head.

"Oh, woah, okay!" Iron Man blurted, catching the robot by the legs before he could slam into the ground or be a blunt weapon, and trying to drag him out of range of any more weaponized thigh deployment.

Cayde had clearly not been any recent tussles like this, or maybe he would have anticipated the potential threat a bit better. Then again, probably not- this was a rather strange situation to be in and he'd swear his processes had a hiccup as all he saw were legs swinging up before his head was pinned like a vice, muffling whatever choice words he had to impart. Gravity lurched around him but he didn't have to guess at what the plan was next, preparing himself as best he could for the inevitable encounter with the ground.

Getting unexpectedly suspended from that outcome was even more disorienting than the setup, not that the Exo wasn't thankful for it as he found his flailing legs getting grabbed and the rest of him getting tugged free. Of course that meant he was still hitting the floor either way, but his metal head could take that much as he found himself being dragged back. This wasn't a comfortable situation to be in, not when the crazy strong woman was once again free and he was flat on his back. He waved his hands at Iron Man, some harried gesture that he hoped translated to 'lemmee go, lemmee go!' so he could roll onto his stomach and back on his feet before someone tried smashing his face in or something.

Turtling the robot hadn't really been Iron Man's intention, but it did give him something of an idea, just as soon as they dealt with the face-smashing problem. It came much faster than Tony had anticipated, the woman throwing herself up into a sitting position with her fists already clasped together to bring down on the robot's head. Iron Man made a noise of surprise and tried to spin the robot out of the direct impact by the hold Iron Man still had around his legs, effectively sliding him under a row of tables while the woman crushed the concrete under her knuckles.

While she was still folded forward, Iron Man grabbed the back of her jacket to twist up and haul her into the air with him, leaving her dangling like a kitten held by the scruff, her shoulders wrenched back and legs kicking wildly. No more leverage to wrestle.

"Daaah! Not the face, not the face!" Cayde yelped, throwing his arms up over his head.

He felt himself being swung around then, the room once again blurring around him before he found himself being yet again shot off, although this time he was closer to the floor kind of in a reverse luge position. He kept his arms clasped over his head and his legs pinned together to minimize the chances of him hitting anything else as he went sliding off.

"I'm okay!" he called out from somewhere down the row as Iron Man apprehended the flailing woman.

The robot's voice echoed in the otherwise quiet room, punctuated by a few ball bearings dropping from where they had been stuck to the woman's clothes to go bouncing musically across the concrete. Even Iron Man's jetboots sounded comparably quiet after the outburst of her arrival, leaving Tony feeling fairly awkward as he hovered with her flailing impotently, trying to free herself from the knot of her own jacket. In the distance, he could hear the sirens of the approaching police cars, and hoped that was the whir of a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter outfitted with stronger handcuffs.

Iron Man idly drifted toward the sound of the voice, trying to peer around his charge to spot his strange teammate among the science projects. "Hey," he called. "You're not going to explode or something now, are you? Because Stark's gone, you missed your chance, you might as well, uh...relax."

Cayde crawled out from under a table, pulling his hood back over his head before methodically dusting himself off and tugging his jacket back into place.

"Exploding would be a mess. And painful too. Also that would probably mean I would be dead, and that thought doesn't quite sit well with me, 'specially with Sundance MIA." He finally looked back up at Iron Man, squinting at him. Then he grinned, wagging a finger at him. "Riiiight, glad that Stark guy got clear while he could. He owes me a ramen lunch, just so you know."

He looked towards the masked woman but at least she was being handled. "Uuuuh... So you got this, right? I'd love to stick around and see how this all pans out but I'm allergic to questions." And he was sure there would be a lot of them, as he heard those sirens closing in.

Of course, Sundance, Iron Man should have factored that into his explosion assumption, how could he have forgotten. Now he knew there was another one to look out for, at least, and as grateful as he was for the warning, he definitely didn't find it reassuring. How many strange, eating robots were going to start showing up at his events? He would rather not let this one go until he figured out what it wanted, but their apprehended luchador was already answering for him, "Good, buzz off! This was supposed to be a fair fight, there weren't supposed to be two of you! Scram!" She flailed and kicked out emphatically, making them wobble in the air and slowly twist around with the momentum of her gesturing.

"Hey, pump the breaks, Chyna, it's over, we were never going to have a fight," Iron Man tried to manage before the robot went skulking away, giving her a shake to stop the squirming before it knocked them into a wall. Over his shoulder, he tried, "I'm sure if your stick around, he'll be back to check the damage, it could be a late lunch..."

"Someone's a sore loser," the Exo muttered, rolling his eyes at the woman's screaming, although he still somehow managed to look amused despite how sloppy a scuffle that had been. He glanced back at Iron Man, still hovering to keep their troublemaker under control.

"Late lunch is better than no lunch," he noted. "Tell you what, I'll go take a coffee break- stuff at the table back there's free, right? Are there donuts? Gotta have donuts with coffee. Do I gotta go buy my own donuts?" He was already wandering off, trying to hide a slight limp. Maybe sitting for a moment wouldn't hurt. All that being thrown around probably got that bad coupling in his leg acting up again.

Tony hadn't been confident that the suggestion would actually work, which became less of a pleasant surprise than something further to be suspicious about as he twisted slowly in the air with his ranting charge, trying to watch the robot's stilted retreat and figure out where that fire had come from. He really didn't seem to have any weapons on him, at least not until the wrestler had navigated them into a gentle crash against a wall then sent them spinning wildly across the room as she kicked off, leaving them both shouting.

It didn't take long for S.H.I.E.L.D. to land their birds on the poor displays arranged around the courtyard and get this new metahuman under control. Iron Man made a lot of noise about definitely getting to that debrief, right away, he'd be right behind the helicopters until they left him alone, still holding the mask they had pulled off of he woman to very little fanfare. He considered it briefly before slipping away backstage, not nearly in the same direction as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents but effectively disappearing before Tony came sauntering back across the remains of the Junior Expo, looking disappointed and distinctly more harried than he had been when sitting curiously on the stage. He wasn't bleeding anymore, but there was definitely a bruise forming behind his glasses, his jacket discarded somewhere in the emergency and hair anxiously run through, no longer carefully coiffed. He stopped short next to the robot on the low bench next to the remains of the coffee service, considering, before sitting next to him, hands still in his pockets, looking out at the destruction from the fight and the helicopters.

"There wasn't any prize money. It was a scholarship," he muttered eventually.

There were no donuts. There was at least some coffee, which the Exo had helped himself to as he sat there hearing more than seeing most of the commotion beyond. He casually knocked back the dregs of his cup as Tony finally returned to join him, glowing gaze still looking out towards the mess.

It was strange, the things kicking around in his head if he sat still enough to let them settle. Things he had no business knowing, like scholarships and how to work a cellphone, although he was still getting the hang of tipping.

"So she stole from the kiddies?" He grimaced. "Did you get it back?" Some things he still wasn't quite sure of how they worked, probably because every other thought was how this was not how anything was supposed to be.

"I mean, there was nothing to take," Tony started to explain, shooting a sidelong look the robot's way and figuring, under some consideration, that he probably didn't have much need to know how a scholarship worked. Tony hadn't sent very many synthetics to college, as far as he was aware. They didn't exactly learn the same way.

He eased back then, leaning against the wall and still eyeing the guy curiously, but nothing he was doing was making a whole lot of sense to Tony; there was a big part of this puzzle missing yet. What Tony had seen was that strange way he had been walking, and eventually he asked, muttered like he was trying not to look like he cared too much, "Took a few hits, huh?"

This was all Golden Age, hell, Pre-Golden Age practice so far as he was aware. People didn't write about scholarships in the books that still managed to be preserved. "....oh. Soooo then all that was just to bait yo- er, Iron Man out?" That had been about the only other thing the woman had been so intent on before everything imploded.

Cayde considered his empty cup, his elbows still resting on his knees. "Eh, I'll live. Don't think I broke anything, although I'm kinda glad I didn't have to test how well my plating would hold up to Miss Muscles back there." He shifted, flexing his leg in and out. "Probably knocked something out of alignment. Don't usually get thrown around like a rag doll."

Tony gave a slow shrug, which could have been a sign of apathy for the whole topic or his attempt at signalling that he couldn't possibly know the motives since he wasn't even here to witness the ranting. He could only have an answer after he had time to talk to Iron Man, after all. "Just looking for a challenge. Lucky she found you," he proposed with a brief smirk, not entirely sure he was happy to have witnessed some of what the robot was capable of before it was directed right at him.

He wasn't nearly as good at hiding his interest as he asked, "Do you want me to take a look?," however nonchalantly he tried to remain leaning back against the wall, eyebrows raised obviously and the casual shrug he attempted to play it off not at all helping. "I have a bit of experience, you know, I've dabbled."

"Oh yeah, lucky me," Cayde muttered, finally easing himself back to lean against the wall. He didn't usually get into tussles with civilians but then he wasn't quite sure what to classify that woman as. It didn't make much sense to him, but then there was the whole puzzle of this city that didn't make sense to him so why should any one thing in here break that mold? And yet here was Tony, still Tony. At least some things didn't change. He glanced at Tony out of the corner of his eye then, breaking into a grin.

"Hah! A look. Right. Next thing I know I'll be in pieces because you wanted to figure out how I worked," he laughed. "You sure you don't remember me?"

The grin was easy to return, feeling surprisingly human and natural to empathize with, and Tony gladly gave up any pretense of not being incredibly curious, hands up in surrender. It wasn't like he wouldn't put the guy back together, and he really couldn't be blamed for being intrigued by the construct delivering itself to his doorstep. What else was he supposed to do with that? The grin was short-lived, though, dropping rapidly in confusion at the question and trying to tug valiantly through the tension that it brought to Tony's jaw. That wasn't a part of the puzzle that Tony had expected.

"Please, that gal didn't hit me that hard. You're not going to convince me I could have forgotten something so beautiful," he insisted, and the curl of his smile made a genuine return as he glanced over the chicken sweater. Okay, so some polishing might have been necessary, but the beauty was still present.

Cayde still grinned, but the fact that Tony Stark actually had forgotten him, just like the others Cayde had come across in this city, left him with this hollow feeling in his metal gut. It wasn't just him, he knew, but Temba was a big link to things, to people he wouldn't otherwise know. Now it was all rewritten and he wasn't sure how you went about filling that hole. Pick up and start from scratch? That sounded like a terrible option.

"Name's Cayde. And none of this is making sense." He let the grin drop, tossing his cup in the little trash receptacle beside the bench before wobbling to his feet.

That expression wasn't nearly as easy to read, but still managed to make Tony feel guilty for causing it, or at least he assumed that was guilt. Unsure what to make of Cayde's memory issues, Tony watched him for a beat as he stood, one hand scratching anxiously over his heart until he managed, "You helped me, I owe you." He was getting ahead of himself, and for once he did actually recognize it enough to course correct, "I can fix it." Not that he was entirely sure about that when he didn't even know what the problem was, but he still stood with Cayde, lips pursed but hopeful.

He'd been deliberating whether to just leave, but there wasn't much to go back to. More scouting things out. More research. More troubling results that made him question his own state of mind. Yeah, that wasn't anything he was terribly eager to get back to.

Cayde looked at Tony again as he found the man standing along with him. Not really, he wanted to say, but the count on who owed who was wiped clear here. He glanced down at his leg as he shifted in place, in testing. That was going to be a bother if he didn't get something done. Finally, he nodded.

"All right," he said. "Just this once."

That might have been the wrong choice if Cayde was trying to avoid a dark spiral, because Tony was less interested in fixing his leg than he was in figuring out his memory problem. It seemed more likely to him that something strange had been installed in the construct's code than a blip in his own memory that Cayde seemed convinced about. Tony grinned for the opportunity, clapping a hand on Cayde's shoulder to lead him back through the presentation hall and into the building, winding easily through the busy hallways toward the mechanical labs where most of the new bots were produced and most likely to house their best tools for the job. With security on high alert after the disruption, none of the men and women in intimidating suits looked particularly pleased to see this strange new figure wandering their territory, but Tony moved casually, talking as they went about how difficult it was to replicate a human's memory patterns, actually store a human brain, and how different that was to the logical patterns that they had been writing computer code in since the first program etched onto cave walls by monkeys. Not that Tony hadn't figured it out, just that a wet brain was far less efficient and cohesive than anything deliberately created, and it made for very particular habits in speech and recollection that a synthetic consciousness would have to deliberately hide. He didn't look directly at Cayde right then, but was pushing the door to the lab open to welcome him into the sterile room with an expectant smile.

Was it wrong for him to get his hopes up, just a little? Maybe under different circumstance Cayde might have actually allowed himself to be impressed and taken in by the place, not that it wasn't impressive and oh so very shiny. But it had a certain feel that tickled at those out of reach memories he associated with Cayde-1, and he wasn't sure that was a good thing.

It was no colder than one would expect of a temperature-controlled, air-conditioned facilities, especially with so much equipment running, but the Exo felt that unnerving chill slide down his spine as he continued to limp along after Tony. He was listening, actually paying more attention than he usually would when someone went off at length about such matters. He didn't feel at all comfortable with what he was hearing.

"...that's interesting and all, chief, but what's that got to do with the leg?" he asked once he was able to get a word in. He didn't take another step forward, even with Tony holding the door open.

The reluctance was obvious enough before they had gotten so far, but that was rapidly reassuring to Tony. Vastly preferable to the robot being overeager to get inside the lab and either finally let loose whatever weapon of mass destruction was hidden under his sweater, or start gathering anything that wasn't bolted down. Tony didn't exactly have the patience to wait around for Cayde to decide on his comfort level, though, and with the slow curl of a smirk he promised, "We can keep this casual. I'm more than happy to objectify you if that's what you're into, Hot Stuff."

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