o1 👨‍💻 Nothing like a big bad bridge (open)

[servomotor]

Characters: Tony Stark, CR, & YOU
Summary: A smol average height technologist superhero man goes about his business in the wake of war and random comedic holiday shenanigans. Some closed starters in the comments.
Date(s): Catch-all for January 2018!
Warnings/Notes: Mental illness, manpain, etc. Maybe some sexual content in here eventually!



open;

Whether in this world or the last, Tony Stark manages to be both a highly private person and incredibly easy to find. Most of the time, he can be found in his workshop, where he invents and repairs a range of machinery for people. Lately, he's been working on copying Xistentia's emotional energy conversion technology and turn it into something that the average citizen (or above average, depending on your self-concept) can use. Behold: sewing machines and weaving looms that feed off bursts of emotional inspiration, coffee machines fueled by your addict's desperation, and cars that go a little faster because you really really want them to!

The rest of the time, he might be found out and about, often in the iconic red suit. He's often preoccupied with brokering deals to acquire more scrap from the beach or trade with other people from contemporary worlds. You might catch him in dry debate, negotiating; you might even find yourself waved over and asked for your honest opinion about the value of a piece of chassis or energy source, in the middle of an otherwise incomprehensible technobabble conversation. Just remember: there is definitely a right answer.

However, in his off-hours, you might instead find him at your local liquor establishment or listening to some live multiversal music downtown, wearing an Immensely Doubtful expression on his bearded face. On the other hand, it's Tony Stark. Maybe that's just what his rich white boy face looks like.

Comments

closed to marcus;

[servomotor]

[Marcus finds him at the edge of the forest. It's a beautiful day out here, full of bright, powdery snow, intensifying winter sunshine, and singing winter birds, and randomly also weird fairy-like little creatures because I guess that's just the kind of world we live in now. The signs of destruction might still be found throughout the forest if you look for them, broken trees here or there, ritual markings on the occasional exposed stone where someone marked the fallen based on a mourning culture that isn't familiar to any of us.

But that isn't why Tony Stark is out here.

No, he's looking for something specific. Something he left out here for himself to find later. Important technology. In fact, he's even wearing a headset of scanning goggles right now that allow him to locate advanced technologies through the snow and rubble. It's really easy. All he has to do is walk around in his snowboots and parka, with his android daemon Fridayd following him, and sweep his head side to side. He can pick up anything in a 100-yard radius. Such as...

...is that a half-metal man? Is he accidentally looking at a half-metal man's bones and body and mechanical parts under his clothes? Whoops. Tony grabs his headset and shoves them up his head, then squints at the trees.] Hello, [he shouts.] No chance there's a deliberately naked half-cybernetic man out there, huh?

Re: closed to marcus;/ This should be funny

[anewhero]

[White powdery snow, one not nuclear winter allowed Marcus and Blaird to take a step in the powdery snow.]

.... Marcus looks confused and then just plain annoyed now.

"Tony?! What are you- I'm not naked?!"

....

He came back from the Grinch world somewhat naked, he had hoped not anyway.

"HEY! OVer here, [He shouts] Tony!

[servomotor]

I'm looking at you, I'm looking at you, [Tony mutters, mildly aggrieved. Ye's not actually that annoyed. It's fine if Marcus shouts. It's a quiet winter day, but at least for now, there's no sign of the enemy.] I'm just. Looking through you, I guess.

No invasion of privacy intended. [He reaches up and pushes the goggles he'd had strapped to his face. X-ray, certainly invasive, but it's not like he was expecting anybody else to be trudging around in the snowy wilderness. He knows himself to be a bit odd in his use of free time.] Marcus. Should've known from all your weird metal bits.

What are you doing out here? [he nods at the cyborg friendly enough, and steps toward him, his shoes munching snow audibly.]

[anewhero]

"Looking for something specific. You? I know i didn't enjoy being kidnapped by a green figure taking me for a ride somewhere and now I'm back here."

Marcus forced a bit of a smile and then smirk. "Yeah, that's me. You looking for me for some reason, Tony?"

[servomotor]

No, but while you're here, you can help me dig some stuff out, [Tony suggests, brightly. Always one to be pragmatic, and make use of help where it's offered. Technically, Marcus was offering, right? He seems like a nice enough fellow, wandering around in the freezing woods by himself.]

Over here.

[He spots what he's looking for-- big, metal, loosely strewn over with vegetation. Gestures at Marcus as he marches off into the treeline.]

closed to loki;

[servomotor]

[There's a lot of irony to be had in any given world-- well, at least 'irony' in Alanis Morrissette's semi-random but uncomfortably karmic understanding of the term. There's the fact that Tony Stark tried to kill his friend's best friend because the guy was brainwashed into murdering the Stark parents this one time. There's the fact he used war profits to try and create renewable energy. There's his distrust of military bodies and capitalism, mixed in clumsily with his heavy dependency on exactly those structures. There's the fact he loves to see the numbers decrease-- of war, of death, of civilian casualties, and yet, it's never about the numbers at all; even one soul accidentally dead weighs on him deep into his next martini.

There's the fact that Tony Stark has no idea what he's doing, but he's real good at pretending. Slap some hot rod red on it.

But things are different in Xistentia. For example: in the Winter, you end up with juvenile sea dragons accidentally stuck in the ice, and a dozen people asking for his help to free it so that new arrivals don't end up endangered by a thrashing monster.

'Ironically' too: they asked one Loki Odinson for help.]

So.

[Red and gold, Tony Stark looks at the Trickster God, who is green and gold, across the snowy sand. In the background, the trapped dragon roars and thrashes in the frosty snow, exhausted but still unpleasantly feisty.] Let me guess. There's an Asgardian mead recipe that involves space lizard venom, and your brother's new discovery of Xistentia Tinder is driving you to drink.

[dothelokimotion]

[ Loki rests a hand on the sea dragon's head as it moans. Displaced from its home, it groans and writhes on the sand. Displaced from its home. Loki lacks empathy but even he can feel the briefest pangs of sorrow over that. The winter chill does nothing for Loki, though one can't tell with his usual set of armors. His magic slips into the mind of the creature, calming it down long enough that people can get closer. Finally, he pulls his hand away to eye Stark. ]

He has been rather clingy of late.

[ Surprising, since Thor was the one who said they'd be better off apart. Granted, Loki was reasonably sure Thor was using reverse psychology on Loki (and it's grating to admit that it worked) Loki can't imagine not being in Thor's orbit. If anything, the instances when they were apart were the ones where Loki sank too deeply into his doubts and fears to pull himself out. ]

But unlike you, little drives me to the drink.

[servomotor]

[The moment of assessment is over. Just kidding. It just seems to be over, since Tony Stark has a propensity for walking and talking at the same time.]

You should try it, [he answers.] Scholars may debate it, but as an American, I firmly believe you have some choice in vices and character defects.

[Abruptly, snowy sand bursts away from under Tony's boots. He lifts off the beach, the repulsors under his feet moving him up into the air. The funny prissy little feet-together, hands-out used to be rather stilted, but these days it comes to him pretty easy, maneuvering himself up aerodynamically over the dragon.] Does homicide taste as good as mead? I don't think so.

[A flash of intense white light. A laser rejects out of his glove, a burning white line that Tony angles down, down. He starts to slice at the ice, just past the Jotun, cutting around the dragon now that it's no longer thrashing around, endangering itself.

Nobody point out how well they're playing together.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ Casually. ]

That was six years ago, Stark. Have you really run out of material so soon?

[ Not surprising, but Loki is not keen on rising to the very pathetic bait. He's not ashamed or particularly regretful of that venture. Especially in light of Odin's secrets and Hela's creation. Loki may not know who he wants to be or who he wants to become, his self on shaky ground, but he knows he's not interested in going backwards just to bandy words with Stark. Carefully, he grabs onto the sea dragon, slowly easing it closer to the sea. ]

And what did you choose?

[servomotor]

Alcohol, [Tony points out, glibely, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world-- because it is. But it's clear that Loki isn't tracking the thread of conversation terribly well. He doesn't know exactly what it is that drives Loki from one act to the next truce-- by now, Thor has PResumably told him all about their adventures on the garbage planet— but as long as it's relevant, he's vaguely curious about it.

More ice sizzles, laser light raking across the surface. Another one of the dragon's numerous legs pops free, moving around sluggishly. It's still under the influence of the Jotun's magic.]

You know what I don't get.

[Chink! CRACK. Frozen crystals splitting under the punishing force of laser light.] Why you're in such a rush to ignore shit that happened six years ago, when all that was motivated by shit that happened what. Five hundred years before? Seven hundred? [The man in a can zips overhead, and starts cutting at ice on the other side of the dagon.] If you were human, my doctor would call that anxious avoidance. [A beat.] And if he weren't asleep. When does your tragedy expire, demigod?

closed to shepard;

[servomotor]

[It's edging deeper into January when she gets the daemon photo and text. She'd known he was back for awhile, of course; with a muttered half-story about the fucking Grinch, half amused, mostly exasperated, in dire need of sleep that wasn't going to be haunted by dreams of Christmas music. He'd hidden himself away for a week.

But the daemon communique represents that that's done now. The fine brandy she'd bought him for Christmas, as well as the glasses to match. Set up in his workshop. She can see the quinjet in the background, sitting quiescently in the half-light of the hangar. And something else off to the side, out of focus, all scintillating curved parts. Something between a cage and a frame.]

9PM?

[is the invitation. He hadn't opened the bottle yet, out of consideration for her timetable. It probably could have been more romantic, he knows; by now, she's been to the workshop half a dozen times, familiarized herself with Fridayd's charging station, the tools and tape, the one-man assembly line of projects, the handful of fabrication machines and blacksmithing employees he's taken on to fill in the space. The funnily labeled Peter's Corner for a certain baby Spider-man's personal projects. It's not quite romantic, because she's been here so many times before. More than anyone else, in fact.

It's not romantic.]

I'LL WEAR A SUIT.

[Not quite.]

[upside]

A metal one?

( is the response. the message is both a surprise and not - she was, of course, expecting it eventually, but eventually got pushed further and further back thanks to a certain christmas disaster, and it just became a 'one day' kind of idealization. not that a date is a lot to ask for, and neither because she thinks tony isn't interested, it's just that lives are busy and filled with chaos, and sometimes the points don't exactly meet up. shepard isn't especially worried.

though, there's a little pinprick of anxiety, but she's glad enough that it's there, because it means she hasn't completely lost her head since being here. tony's probably the best friend she's made on this planet - not to mention that he's certainly the best kisser, but she'll be the first to admit she doesn't exactly have a wide reference range when it comes to that. she's more comfortable around him than she is with anyone, and that's partly where attraction has stemmed from - comfort, and understanding, and a chiseled jawline.

anyway, she's comfortable enough to let herself into tony's workspace without knocking, padding in with an outfit most of the known galaxy has never seen commander shepard in: a dress. it's incredibly simple, and not too dressy just in case tony had been talking about his iron man suit, but it fits the occasion, nice and warm with long sleeves and a high collar, cutting off at her mid thigh. black velvet bunches forgivingly at end of it, hiding a thigh harness and a pistol strapped on her skin. you can never be too safe. )

Hey.

[servomotor]

[Point of fact: 'a suit' wasn't 'the suit.' He isn't in his red and yellow tin can today. Dark, tailored lines, a white shirt. It's not quite Armani, but hey. Bespoke clothing is a different sort of luxury, that which belongs to a breed of rich people who value privacy and find the red carpet advertisement purposes of the flash photography fashion world relatively crude.

Tony can play at more than one kind of rich.

But you know the funny thing-- as he pulls the door open for her, shows her into the familiar workspace, costumes aside— the truth is, he isn't playing at anything with her, really. Sure, he will always maintain surfaces, such as shaping his beard, sassing his word choice, keeping people at arms length, keeping FRIDAY coded to keep people. A lot further away than arms length, actually. Locked elevators and high towers, air-conditioned basements deep into the rock of Malibu. Suits and jewel-encrusted watches. He brings some of that to meeting her, of course, but

somehow, with her, it's less about maintaining distance. His face, no matter how meticulously maintained and manicured, is just his face. His suit, no matter how carefully chosen and flattering to his smithy-muscled frame, just happens to be what he's wearing.]

Hey yourself.

[He shuts the door behind her.] You look real nice, Commander Shepard. Your crew would get upset, military boundaries getting all kinds of messy. Aren't you only supposed to wear one pair of shoes? Spit-shine and bootblack. [But he leans over to kiss her on the cheek, and takes an extra quarter a lung of breath to pull the scent of her detergent and hair into him. He flips the latch behind the small of her back, and motions his hand toward the table with the gifted liquor. She'll realize that it's actually set inside the bubble-shaped contraption she'd glimpsed int he picture-- it's a big contraption.]

[upside]

( looking back down at her dress, shepard's lips turn up in a crooked smile that is uniquely her own - tasteful and contained as ever, no masks, no lies. just the modeled patience of a solider trained by the most dedicated military in the galaxy, a woman formed by hardships and meticulous training regimes, who can still spare a goofy kind of grin in response to a boy that she likes. everyone's got something to hold onto that keeps them human - or keeps them krogan, or drell, or vorcha. shepard's is just humanity itself, and that beautiful, chaotic thing they call an earth.

she's not really thinking about it, at the moment. she's thinking about tony, who also gives her a lot of ... human urges. earthly desires, maybe. )

I didn't know I was heading off to a battle, otherwise I would've worn my boots. Should I expect fighting every time you ask me out? ( hovered somewhat close to him, she reaches a hand out to straighten the already perfect lapels of his suit jacket, tilting her head, using it as an excuse to be close to him. she wore flats, obtusely aware of how much shorter he is. ) That sounds like us. ( fondly. she pats his chest before turning.

she knows the lay of the land pretty well at this point, so the structure in question gives her pause, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. her steps forward are unquestioning - she trusts him, as always - as she makes her way into the bubble, toward the brandy. )

Hamster ball? ( she tosses over her shoulder. )

sdgkhlfs how tall is she?!

[servomotor]

[He's not that short. I'm just saying. And his chest is impressively solid under the suit, and under the pat of her hand. He looks at her, with a slickster cool guy Tom Haverford smile as she steps away from him, but the moment her eyes swivel away, he lets out a breath like a stressed out boy at prom, bewitched by the curvature of her body beneath sleek fabric and the smell of product in her hair. He smoothes down his suit, and walks after her.]

No, I like peace too. I'm learning mission-life balance, [he says. He doesn't think to second-guess the new alignment of his tie, not for a second.] In the-- midst of a war, I guess. Because that's how you do.

[Despite the PERFECTLY INSIgnificant difference in the lengths of their legs, Tony arrives at the odd little mini-chamber when she does. He picks up the brandy in its lovely dark bottle and opens it, doesn't bother to watch the translucent curl of vapor come out of its nozzle because he's watching her. The glass walls of the 'hamsterball's how her reflection back to her, translucent and reshaped, but rendered in the proper palette, the red of her hair in contrast to the pale lilt of her collarbones.]

Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, [he tells her.] Pay no mind to the acronym, please and thank you. [The rim of the glass nudges her hand.] Mark two point oh. Integrating what I could put together from the Temple tech, inscrutable as F.A.T.E.S. wants her 'magic' to be.

['''magic.''']

I built the first model to revisit the memory of the last time I spoke with my parents. Self-help, I guess. Spinning out the situation the way I wish it'd gone down. But I guess these days there's more to life than trauma, and you had a world or five you wanted me to see.

[iisupergirlii]

[a'ight so. listen. listen. buddy. pal. my guy. here's what we're gonna assume. when Kara first washed up, she met Iron Man, not Tony Stark. And he met Supergirl, not Kara Danvers. So, Kara is about to be poking around because she's heard something about coffee and she misses coffee, so mousey lil lady gets to """"""meet""""" Tony Stark. Further assumptions is that Kara has lived under a rock, been patrolling the beach for newbies, and/or setting up homesies with Thea. Go with this cuz I'm the worst. :D?]

Kara misses home. There's... gosh, there's so many things that she just idly thinks about at night as she's going to sleep, or when she's flying - whenever there's a spare moment that's not filled with war or weird, alternate planets, or anything else. She misses pizza, and she misses mindlessly scrolling through her Netflix queue. And oh - Noonan's. Oh, Rao, she misses Noonan's. You could smell it before you walked in the door! Warm, sugary lattes and donuts.

She misses all that.

So, for the first time since she's arrived, Kara is going out in Xistentia - not with any sort of purpose, not to act as guard, or to even be Supergirl. She's dressed in some clothes that were left in the house she and Thea are staying in. They're a little big but fit her style well - a grey pencil skirt with a bright blue button up blouse that makes her eyes pop behind her (lead-lined) glasses. The blouse is buttoned all the way up her neck, but she's kept her hair down loose, just half of it clipped back off her face.

She marches along Xistentia until she comes to some... place of business. It's big, and there's lots of signs around it, one with a prominent arrow with "STARK" spray painted over it in flashy yellow paint. As Kara grows closer, there's sort of advertising posters for different items that are... powered by your emotions? That doesn't seem real.

But there's something about coffee, and Kara hasn't yet found any kind of replacement for Noonan's, and she can't smell it - she mostly smells metal and oil - but still, she eases her way inside, standing just inside the doorway.

"Hi?" she asks, peering around, standing on tiptoes to see over some cars in the shop. "Is anyone here?"

[servomotor]

[Well let's be real, Kara Danvers is perfect and can do no harm, so those are safe assumptions to make!]

Rattaratatta. That's the sound of Tony Stark wheeling backward on a rolly chair, leaning back to look at whoever came in.

It's by coincidence that he's in here alone this afternoon-- most days, he has a few other engineers and blacksmiths to help with the fabrication of things. Most of the software and the idiosyncrasies of higher-level tech, he reserves for himself and his understanding of programming and physics, no offense to anybody else's genius-level IQ. He just wants the job done right. But it's a rotating crew he runs here, and in between rotations they take lunch breaks and potty breaks and have lives outside of invention.

Meaning that it's Tony, and Tony alone, who sees the girl come in with her little sweater and enormous glasses. He doesn't recognize her. Well, she seems-- familiar, and maybe... he'll figure it out in a few minutes depending on what the neighborhood's fourth walling preferences are, but for now, she looks like a very nice civilian girl. Very proper. Possibly bright.

"I'm here," he says. "Tony Stark, owner of this establishment. Welcome to the Enterprises. Not a deliberate Trek reference. I haven't slept in fourteen hours. What's your name?" He's holding something in his hands. Pieces of metal, a dim incandescence coming out of some LEDs, but pulsing gently like an organic thing. "What are you looking for?"

Fridayd-- his daemon, who looks like an android, rotates her head very suddenly. She just stares at Kara without comment.

[iisupergirlii]

Holy Toledo it's Iron... Giant? No, that was an Earth movie that Alex always said made her cry too much. Iron... Iron Man! That was it! He greeted her when she first washed up here.

She realizes she's staring without comment for a few seconds too long and gives a half-apologetic, half-awkward laugh, adjusting her glasses.

"Kara Danvers," she says. "I'm, um... new...? Yes. I'm sorry, I just." She points vaguely behind her. "There was something about coffee outside, and I wouldn't say I was an addict , ha... but..."

Her Lumir, err... daemon? Shoot, it's so hard to remember she doesn't actually have a new pet Lumir, burbles behind her, invisible because apparently that genetic trait shows up for the daemons as well. She feels four little childish tentacle tips push against the backs of her legs until she takes a weirdly robotic step closer. Okay, okay! She's getting out! Look at her, interacting with locals! And not as a superhero!

It's progress!

[servomotor]

Tony Stark's dark eyebrows climb on his forehead. "We have coffee, but I wouldn't call that our specialty. Mostly we deal in tech." But he stands up nonetheless, straightening his shirt, and moving toward the counter off to the side. He will pour her out a mug of coffee, being a decent host, as well as somewhat curious about where he knows this young woman from. She's a charming-looking little dork, isn't she? And he's nothing if not a charming dork himself.

Tossup on the 'charming.' You'll get a variety of opinions if you ask around Xistentia.

"Cream," he taps the cannister off to the side. "Sugar." Then he extends an arm toward her welcoming her and her weird tentacle friend in. Tentacle friend? His eyes snap toward it. He half-remembers. His eyes cut to her face again, sparking with suspicion. "No chance you're here to order a machine?" he asks. "Maybe one to defend against killer robots who might have survived hand-to-hand combat from your alien cousin back home."

Tactful way of asking. But she doesn't have to answer, really. The coffee is free. She also doesn't have to buy anything.

[iisupergirlii]

Kara's halfway across the workshop, clumsily dodging benches and half-repaired robot arms. You know, typical stuff. But then he says what he says, and she stops cold. Immediately, and rather guiltily, she spins to look behind her, and there's AstraD, no longer invisible. Oh, for Rao's sake.

"You were supposed to be-" She cuts her hissed chastisement off, turning slowly with an uneven, guilty grin. She clears her throat, pushing her glasses up.

"Um, I am... here for coffee," she says, gesturing towards the coffee pot. "It's a machine that fuels off emotions. That's... hoo boy wow! That's pretty cool."

Is she distracting him? Is it working?

Probably not.

But... cousin. Cousin! She can work with cousin. It's a new one, and kind of sort of implies that she's not exactly human, but just because she's not human, doesn't mean she's Supergirl.

"So, I... see you've heard of my cousin. Yes. Supergirl?"

Action;

[shadowmarshalllucask]

[Cue one Shadow Marshall eyeing supplies in Tony's workshop with OWLd ]

...

[ He points at something as OWLd scans it ]

"What is it?"

[servomotor]

[Tony walks out from stage left, holding a cup of joe with fair dose of liquor in it. His eyes skate right over Lucas for a moment... before stopping. He turns his head, slowly swinging his stare back to look at Lucas and his daemon.]

..., [he says.] ... [as if he's in a comic book.]

That is a miniature gyroscope. For integration into enhanced motorized suits. And what are you?

[shadowmarshalllucask]

[Lucas turned his head and turned toward the "visitor".]

The man was quick to jump as he didn't expect Tony to appear but held his hand nearby.

OWLd eyed Tony "OWL.. prototype advanced droid."

[servomotor]

[There's a long, thoughtful silence-- not all that long, actually. Tony's brain tends to operate pretty quickly, even if it did take him forty years of life to realize that war is bad.]

I have one of those too, [he says.] But mine's built by F.A.T.E.S. Is this your daemon, or tech from your homeworld? [he cocks his head and steps forward.

Considering his shop apparently! just got broken into, he has absolutely zero compunctions right now about crowding OWLd's space, and peering into its face, trying to grab its arm and move it around to check its flexibility.]

[shadowmarshalllucask]

Lucas frowned, ready to step in if he had to "Easy... Tech from my homeworld... and my daemon."

OWL was cautious, checking Tony, more likely waiting for Lucas to issue commands.

"Lucas,... anytime."