capeandcowl2020 | Open Post 001

It was boring, slow in the secluded location. Nothing to pass the time, only silence. He wasn't even allowed a radio anymore, they didn't bother giving him books. He used to enjoy the silence. He could sit for hours in his penthouse, hours, and just work, interfacing with seven different things and not feel the strain. But he couldn't do that anymore. The locks on his brain, if he tried to remove them, he would die. Instantly. They were clamped in, and he couldn't take chances with his life, not when the consequences would hardly be to his liking.

Ghost had come by, once, and offered to kill him. Out of mercy. Carol had been bringing him pictures of Clint and Bobbi's kids. He was missing things, he was offered a mercy death. It was all he could do not to accept the offer.

Tony Stark rarely gave up, but he was on the edge of things. Teetering over the edge. But information, even fragments, was enough to get him going. Enough to motivate him to look further.

He had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work. He'd been here for years. He needed out.

Edited 2012-05-19 18:45 (UTC)

The City had not be kind to itself--rather, the government had really fucked it up. Going back was basically the last thing Rikku wanted to do, but word about her friends, people she loved, being hurt and tortured and spirited away had reached her, and she had needed to go back. To check up, to see if there was anything she could do. Because even after 1.3 kids, she wasn't going to just sit by and do nothing. Santo had understood, of course. He'd promised to take good care of Chavvi as long as she took care of herself and baby number two.

It had taken her two weeks of staking out Tony's house-arrest house for her to figure out a way in.

Dressed in all black, hair stuffed up in a beanie hat, he'd crawled up the side of the building, through an air vent, and dropped down into his bathroom (after making sure he wasn't there, of course). She didn't know what was keeping him from leaving--a few guards shouldn't be enough. But that was one of the billion things she planned to ask.

Rikku pulled off her hat, gently patted her belly (not quite showing yet, but she would any week now), and stuck her head out the bathroom door, with a loud whisper.

"Tony?"

Tony rarely expected company. Sometimes Carol would show up. Very, very rarely, he found Ghost hovering, barely noticeable in the air. The only way he discovered Ghost was through years of fighting the ex-enemy, now occasional ally.

No, this was different. Most people didn't show up and call to him. That was dangrous. The house was bugged. He lifted his head from his chair, and followed, silent. Bare feet padding down the hallways. Only dressed in casual pants, there wasn't much of a point to wear a shirt most days, although he was still obviously in good health. He couldn't do much else than work out, there was a point when you got just bored enough that you did that. All day.

He stepped into the bathroom, head peeking in first, before he blinked. Slowly, lip twitching.

"Well, hello beautiful."

The only reason she stayed put instead of going to look for him herself was because she knew how dangerous it would be if she was caught. It was likely that not even mastery of her dresspheres could save her if the government was after her. And she wasn't about to uproot her family because of her own impatience.

Seeing him, she was prepared for a scrawny, pale, weak Tony. Not this buff, shirtless, hunk of man meat with which she was presented. Her eyebrows raised just a smidge, but otherwise, she just smiled, raising a hand in greeting. Rikku had kept in pretty good shape herself, even if the babies had given her a few extra pounds.

"Hey yourself, handsome." She kept her voice low. Now that she thought about it, the bathroom was probably the safest place for them to talk. She didn't know how much privacy they allowed him, but come on. There had to be some kind of limit. "Betcha weren't expecting me."

There wasn't much, but the bathroom was safe. He kept it safe. He looked for bugs every day. He wasn't about to let them spy on him when he needed to relieve himself, after all. "You're right, I wasn't," he mentioned, lifting an eyebrow.

Tony had to keep himself up, because he was bored out of his mind. He'd also been thinking, and ever since Ghost initiated contact, he'd found a reason to get ready. Not that he would tell anyone. He wasn't about to, not until he could get out, not until he was certain.

"What are you doing in town?"

Out of all the prisoners, Xanatos liked to visit Tony the most. They used to be so alike, so similar. Both heads of corporations. Both were normal humans, enhanced by their exosuits. Both were so much smarter than the average citizen. Tony was actually someone who was respected, and Xanatos admired the man for that.

But then Tony chose wrong. It was refreshing for Xanatos to see what he could have been, how he had avoided becoming a pathetic shell of his future self. Plus, it was nice being able to gloat. He was on the winning side.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark," Xanatos said, smirking slightly, as he entered the room and walked up to Tony. "How's solitary treating you?"

Xanatos had fared where Tony had fallen, that was certain. Occasional visits were...well, they were a pain. But, there was at least something to them. The banter was a rare indulgence. He was smart, they had similar interests, and Tony Stark needed stimulation.

"Xanatos, why, you found time in your busy schedule just to come and visit me? I'm touched!" he smiled, his grin crooked. He held it for a moment, leaning back in the comfortable, old chair. At least they gave him a place to sit, even if there was no TV. He eyed him, an eyebrow quirking, before he finally whistled. "And can I say? You're looking well, is that a new watch?"

"What can I say, I always try to make time in my schedule to visit old friends. Besides, even government employees get leave now and then." Xanatos continued smiling, shrugging slightly. That was a lie. He was an import. That affected everything from his time off to his paycheck.

"And yes, it is a new watch. I bought it a week ago, as a little present to myself." He may be selling out his fellow imports to a dystopian government, but he would be damned if he didn't try to look good while doing it.

"I'm impressed, I thought I heard that they were cutting paychecks, what with all of the strife still out there. I'm sure it's hard to keep up with the damage when they aren't cutting out of any import paychecks like they used to," he smiled, innocent. A hint there, but more than that, a dig. He still eyed the watch. He wouldn't get a chance to see it, of course. They wouldn't let him. No tech.

"Then again, when they have such fine upstanding citizens like yourself, I'm not surprised they would want to keep you happy, think what would happen if you decided you wouldn't want to do it anymore," he smirked, folding his hands on his lap.

The implication was there. Tony Stark just smiled. He was trying to set him up, of course, for what little good it would do. It wasn't that he thought Xanatos would actually be taken from his job, but the little hints? It at least would make his life a bit more difficult in the future. Kind of like a game, even if he couldn't see the ramifications.

"Loyalty to the government helps keep your paycheck a bit above the rest. Designing security systems, on the other hand..." Xanatos gestured to himself, making sure his watch was visible all throughout the process, as a reminder of what Tony couldn't have. "That makes you more wanted."

At Tony's comment, Xanatos raised an eyebrow. "Why would I want to leave? It's much better than the alternative." He had noticed that implication in Tony's words and Xanatos simply smiled back. He wouldn't be taken from his job. He was too useful to them. Also, if he was taken off, he could always try to convince his two-hundred foot long dragon partner to cause some damage and eat some people. She would like that.

"Though I will admit, hearing the screams of prisoners does get to you after a while." He idly shrugged.

"Oh, don't tell me you're getting second thoughts?" he questioned, his lip twitching once again. Xanatos had...for lack of a better word, certainly sold out. "This is why when I had pulled for registration in my world, we had a much more elegant form of detainment," he explained.

But that was all he would get. No need to give anyone in the government ideas, not that they could do it without the combined efforts of Tony Stark and Reed Richards, not without suitable tech, and minds, under the wing. He felt a sourness in his stomach from the thought. He remained in his seat.

"Anyway, that's not important. Tell me, how has the outside world fared lately? I don't get much, you see. Too much of a security risk, of course. I could turn a TV into a weapon, I could turn a toaster into a weapon, so it's a bit hard to hear much about the outside world, I'm sure you know."

"Trust me, I'm fine with where we are at the moment," he replied, smirking at Tony. After all, he wasn't the one in the cage.

"As for the outside world...not much to say. We're bringing more people in-none that you know." Xanatos shrugged. He looked around the room, at its emptiness. How...dull. "God it's boring in here. Who knows, if you're good then maybe I'll see if I can swing you a plastic fork or something. Maybe a frisbee."

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The scattershot method of Ghost's memory occasionally raised corpses from his past that he found impossible to put down. Like one Tony Stark, one Iron Man, one red and gold and gleaming and grand and posturing and proud fallen angel and his personal, original nemesis.

The man who'd made him face his own existence, years ago that sometimes felt like centuries, and sometimes felt like days.

Sometimes he felt like he'd left so much of himself in his own dimension that he should just lay down in some remote location, and close his eyes, and let it take him home.

But the fire in him would not let him rest, the hellfire mirrored in his eyes, in the slit and cold eyes of that iron mask that he remembered. The mask he half expected to see as he slipped silently into Tony's house. He'd already forgotten his offer of a mercy death, but he hadn't forgotten the way to Tony's place--his suit did most of his thinking for him, now, though it was in need of repairs--the vocal apparatus now dipped and rose in uncertain pitch and crackle, one lense cracked, though it still blazed with stubborn function.

It was only a matter of time before burnout. Entropy to all cores. A cold chaos from order,
{total system
shutdown}.

But not yet. There was work to be done. There was a war to be won.

"St_arkkk. ^{You ca^l##d} me... I came."

Tony had tried to get the message out, subtle, telling the few people he saw to send e-mails, and hoped that Ghost would pick up on them. He should've had more faith. He should have held on for that, because he'd been waiting, but his hope had all but run out. He couldn't help but worry that it wouldn't happen. He'd be stuck here for longer.

He'd been surprised with the approach. He'd always known how to identify the former enemy. Ghost was subtle, and good at what he did, but the years of fighting with him, and then later simply watching him during his time with the Thunderbolts, it had taught him a lot. And then they worked together here in the City.

Now, now he had an idea. Ghost was his only hope on getting out of here. When he'd first approached, an offer with a gun, he'd thought, considered for a moment, but he couldn't. Not yet. He couldn't let the imports fall, he wouldn't. Not without a fight, and he knew he was needed. Extremis was needed.

But the approach, it hit him hard, hearing the vocalizers failing, looking at the cracked pieces, the wear on his armor. Ghost needed repairs. He had a hidden bank account. Enough to build a suit, enough to get himself running again. If this didn't work... Tony made a decision. He held up a hand, and scratched on a nearby sheet. He left it there. It was an account number. He knew Ghost would notice it, he'd be curious. If this didn't work out, there would be a chance to fix at least him. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe.

"I did," he answered, turning. "I'm glad you got my message," he paused, and looked around. "Can you check the room for bugs?"

The eyes fixed on the page almost immediately, then looked away, looked through Tony briefly as though he wasn't there, and then around the room. "Ir^relevant. I am br--r--oadcasting a carrier _override. All they _hear is the sil^ence ## the gr-ave."

A laugh. Low and mean and angry, the kind of anger that covers fear, a fear that never slept, but a fear that settled on its haunches when Tony was in the same room. Whatever happened, Tony was a constant in his life, a fixture from which to calculate the rest of the environment.

"Solid ^as the _Rock of Gibral_tar." He was thinking aloud--the natural conclusion to his thoughts, whether or not he knew was open for debate.

"Wh## can I do _for you, Jab^al Tariq?"

Tony paused, feeling a twist somewhere in there. Ghost was going. He was going fast if he were so honest. Tony may not have unlimited access to the internet through his brain, but he could remember things. Jabal Tariq was an interesting name.

It was a compliment, he supposed. He felt a sadness that he hadn't been around. Ghost had always been unstable, he'd always needed a hand. In the City, he'd pulled him in, put his brain to use, helped him focus his attentions toward what was necessary, put him toward a greater purpose.

But now he couldn't. Was Ghost too fargone? He needed to help him, no, everyone who'd been touched by this. He'd couldn't do it from here.

"Ghost. Have you ever been able to alter your suit, to pass through one thing and not the other?" He needed this, he needed Ghost.

A long silence between them, as if Ghost were trying very hard to read between the lines of that sentence, though he could just ask. He knew Tony was invisibly bound by his captors, the modern Prometheus bound and eaten day in, day out. Though the eagle was guilt, and the Zeus was the government, and the fire was something but the metaphor was breaking down and it was all Greek anyway.

"Yes."

"Can you pull something inorganic, like metal from organic?" he asked, questioning harder. He had to know.

It was like the light at the end of a tunnel. He could escape. He could finally, finally hear and see, and be in a world that he was built to be in. Hell, if he thought there wouldn't be a chance that they would find out, he would, in a heartbeat, remain in this home. Just to use it as a center of power.

No, not yet. He had to know.

Ghost was crazy, not stupid. He was silent for a second more, and then he turned his back, opening his arms with fingers splayed.

"If I ^err, An_thony, you could be a vegetable. A _parapalegic. Do you know ^what a _botched lobotomy feels like? Neither do I."

Over his shoulder, hard on the heels of the merciless caveat, "It ^can be done."

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She slips in to his penthouse just as the sun starts setting over the horizon. Moving in daylight is a bit mor difficult than moving at night, but luckily today is a grey sort of a day. She sits in his bathroom as has become custom and lets some of the tenseness in her shoulders ease. Carol's got all night before she has to leave so waiting a little while doesn't bother her.

Though she may or may not be trying to mentally will Tony in her direction. She can wait but that doesn't mean she's patient.

It takes about an hour, before he heads there for reasons other than Carol, but when he steps in, the strain on the bladder isn't really enough to make him stop and actually whip it out with his friend in the room.

Instead, he just smiled. "Carol."

She gives him a small smile in return. "Tony."

And then she looks him over, checking for anything out of the ordinary. One can never be too sure what will happen to one's bro while one's bro is imprisoned with things in his brain. Sufficiently assured that he's okay, she lets her smile turn more genuinely amused.

"Do you need me to close the shower curtain so you have some privacy?" Sometimes having the bathroom as the easiest place to avoid cameras sucks.

"I think I can hold it. How long were you waiting?" he tips down the toilet seat, and sits down, propping his arms on his knees, watching her. Looking for signs of duress or problems.

"How is everyone?"

She looks tired, a little worn around the edges. It's not caused by anything in particular, just time and the war slowly eating away at her. But she can still smile around him, so it's not all bad.

"Not long. Maybe an hour," she says with a shrug. "And everyone's doing well." As well as they can be doing, anyways. "Francis has hit the part of childhood where he refuses to eat bread crusts."

"Oh, the part where you start to cater to his specific needs, huh?" Tony never really did...get children very well. Not that he didn't want to meet Francis, but how he would act? Uncertain.

"At least they're good. How are you though, really?"

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warbirding - 2012-05-22 04:17 (UTC) - Expand

Open Post 001

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lsjdf that icon makes me laugh every time i see it

It's just so ridiculous I love it

C:

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