![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
AUGUST TDM.
● ● ● T D M . 0 3
… What are you willing to do to erase your regret from existence?
The words, when they die out, leave you in emptiness — despairing, all-consuming, the kind that invites only the worst thoughts. What have you done? What have you agreed to do?
But then, from the emptiness, a golden light shines, and as you reach for it —
you wake up.
1.0 Perhaps it was less the golden light in your dream and more the insistent feeling of something metallic poking your side repeatedly, making beeping noises… wait, beeping noises?
When you look down, you’ll see a small robot staring at you and looking less than happy (maybe it has something to do with your disheveled state, maybe it's still mad about having to clean up after a certain pizza-induced mess). When you get up, it unleashes a series of beeps — and then furiously starts to scrub the floor.
Yes, the floor — instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself lying on a hallway, white walls and white floor surrounding you. You don’t have long to stare at the minimalistic look of everything around you before the little bot starts poking you again, the word MOVE blinking across its visor.
So better get out of its way! Perhaps you’re on the hallway on your own and leave on your own… or perhaps there’s someone else, sleeping near you. Maybe do them the courtesy of waking them up before this little angry bot does! Or perhaps you’re the poor soul still sleeping and needing a rescue before the beeps make it to you.
2.0 If you need a visit to the infirmary, the situation may be more dire — perhaps there’s blood on the wall that you wake up against, your clothes may be dirty or ragged… whatever it is that has happened to you before waking here and has left you injured, it sure doesn’t create a reassuring sight. Best get to the infirmary as soon as possible.... with some assistance, perhaps.
Once upright, you may notice there’s something in your ear: an earpiece that, when you become aware of it, quickly runs you through the instructions for how to use the network, a recorded message by a female voice that explains exactly why you’re here… and leaves you with a map of the station.
So what else is there to do but to explore? Best get to know what is now your new home.
3.0 The most pressing question that you might ask yourself is: but where will I stay? The question is answered once you walk through the winding white corridors to the common area. Behind it, there are three types of rooms: those with one bed, two beds and four beds. The rooms are clinical yet clean, and sparsely-furnished — and most importantly, most are occupied. So be prepared to get some roomies!
4.0 You may find your way to the armory, where you can try to work the machine there to make yourself a weapon — perhaps to replace one that didn’t come with you to the station… or maybe you want to be prepared for the future. The recently-returned team members will surely recommend having a functional weapon with you.
And speaking of weapons: to put it to good use, head to the training room, where the entire purpose is to provide you with a space to spar and train to your heart’s content!
5.0 After you’ve exhausted yourself training, it’s time to grab a bite. For that, you should head to the kitchen, which… seems to be filled with a lot of leftovers: takeout boxes with an assorted collection of pizza slices, kung pao chicken, lamb curry... not to mention the entire tray of chocolate brownies. Feel free to eat your fill — or if takeout isn’t your cup of tea, open one of the large fridges to pick fresh ingredients and make your own lunch.
6.0 A welcome reprieve to the cold, dark space that surrounds the characters can be found in the sunlight room. A skillful illusion surrounds anyone who steps inside the room: you can hear the trilling of birds, feel a light breeze caress your skin as you walk through a grass field. A new addition is a flower garden where there once was a meadow — now, roses, camellias, lilies and dozens of other flowers sway in the wind, all varieties in their own flower beds, with a winding path of stones leading through them. The path leads to where a bridge rises over a sparkling, babbling brook.
Here, it is easy to forget you are in space at all. Perhaps that gives you comfort, or just makes you miss the real nature all the more.
7.0 If you’d rather choose tinkering over nature, the lab is guaranteed to provide you with some entertainment. Glass vials and jars of chemicals sit on shelves in a surprisingly beautiful display of colour on one side of the room, while the other side of the room contains stacks of boxes containing assorted equipment: cords, bolts, panels, buttons, gears, gadgets, gizmos, and thingamabobs. The downside is that the parts available seem to have no apparent method to their sorting. So get digging, and you may just find exactly what you need to make what you’ve always wanted to make!
8.0 If it’s items you’re lacking, though, some time after your arrival, the earpiece alerts you to a new message.
Indeed, the platform near the personal quarters is still whirring with power, and new items form neat piles on it. There’s clothes, shoes, dishware, skincare, books… even a couple of CDs, and a few cute stuffed animals. So sort through what there is and grab what you want, before someone else does!
(CW: POTENTIAL BODY MODIFICATION)
Whether you’re a quick study and you’ve become settled into life on the station, or you want to get the full lay of the land (in a manner of speaking) first, if you decide to explore the hall past the control room, you’ll eventually come across the simulation room.
Step past the threshold and the doors will slide shut with a quiet woosh. Nothing suspicious; nothing to worry about. But before you can really get a sense of your environment (a grey, large-ish empty room, no furniture, no discernable objects to provide markers), the room goes dark, and then … there’s really no other way to describe it: the room transforms.
You find yourself in a club. The music is upbeat, loud, but not too loud. Down a short flight of steps flanking the bar and seating is the open floor with more tables and booths bathed in a warm, dim glow of light, and at the very end of the room is a stage with its bright spotlight showcasing its performers — though, at the moment, the stage is empty.
9.0 When you take a step forward, you’ll feel a presence gently push at your chest or your shoulder — a tall and jovial man resembling a well-dressed bartender from the top up (the rest of him appears to move along wheels) approaches with a tall flute glass in hand. Its contents are sparkly and blue.
Will you proceed? Please respond ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.”
There’s something a little strange about his voice, a cadence that doesn’t sound quite natural even when the simulation is so realistic otherwise. Once you’ve given your consent, the bartender continues.
10.0 It seems the bartender wasn’t lying. Once you’ve allowed the drink (tasty, sweet-but-not-too-sweet, effervescent, with light notes of your fondest childhood memory) to settle in your stomach you might experience a myriad of effects on your body, ranging from a change in skin colour (pink? green? blue with spots?), an additional limb or two (or three), a tail or wings, or cybernetic parts such as lie-detecting eyes or a tongue that can uncover truths and lies in others. If you happen to find another Orber within the room and both of you have consumed the offered drink, you might find yourself experiencing a full bodyswap.
None of the changes are painful; if anything, they might not even be noticeable until you look into a mirror, look down at your limb-in-question, or your companion points it out.
11.0 The moment you approach the stage, a performer will appear as if out of thin air and begin to sing, her voice strong and smoky and melodic. Her enthralling performance could put you into a trance, but you have an orb to find and a personal task to accomplish, so it’s time to put your best foot forward and do a little investigating.
Talking to some of the patrons might prove fruitful as some of them are convinced that the stage has never sounded or looked so good, like there’s something giving performers that extra oomph that no one can explain. It might be wise to wait until that last performance before you sneak up there — or maybe you want to do a little snooping around now, you know, while everyone’s distracted. Strategize with your fellow Orbers and uncover the location of this hidden orb.
● ● ●
N O T E: The effects of the drink and the level of changes your character experiences is entirely up to you. Patrons of this fine club won’t bat an eye if you look a little like them.
Additionally, there are three personal tasks provided to each character as they enter the simulation. In-game, each character will be given one task. For the purposes of the test drive, we’re leaving it to players to pick a task for their character and run with it.
A If you’ve been given a particular body change that might aid you in this mission, do not use it to your advantage.
B Team up with a fellow Orber to uncover the hidden location.
C Get up on stage and put on a performance during the simulation. Your song choice will determine the outcome of success in your investigation.
F Y I
• TDM threads can be used as samples for apps. In fact, we encourage it!
• Reserves are currently open!
• Apps open August 27.
• For any questions regarding TDM, please direct them here. For questions about the game, please refer to the FAQ.
FOR SOME FUN:
Have a listen for some clues about the second mission.
(Hint: there are four clues in total.)
crying
Maybe he wouldn't have died at home, and maybe Pepper's steady voice wouldn't haunt his dreams, the way it has the past few nights.
If Redwing-- upgraded to silver sleekness --is here, then Sam must be. It's a surprisingly comforting thought. Their last exchange had been... Tony would diplomatically call it 'tense', and he didn't know what Steve had shared with him afterward, but Sam is eminently practical, even with that wild streak of his. Tony can handle practical right now.
He can especially handle practical with a cup of coffee, beelining to it with his slow, shuffling gait. )
Please.
( Leaning a hip against the counter, then deciding that felt too unsteady, he takes his cup with him to sit down, easing into a chair. )
I need a nap just walking twenty yards; I'll happily go back.
( It's light, casually self-deprecating. He burns his tongue on the coffee but doesn't care, swallowing it down with a slow gulp. Seven years later and Sam looks the same, as if left untouched by everything that happened. But he isn't. None of them were. )
no subject
He's watching Tony closely, just in case the man's about to keel over. Truth be told, he shouldn't be out of bed - but Sam gets it. Would have been more surprised if Stark never ditched bedrest at all, to be honest.
Sam glances down at his own mug briefly, presses his lips together, then glances back at Tony. Pushes himself off the counter and instead slides into the seat opposite the man. In part so that Stark doesn't have to look up at Sam. In part because Sam thinks being eye to eye might help not feel like there's still bars between them.
He knows what happened in Siberia. He also knows exactly why he stuck by Bucky's side at Tony's funeral, offering him comfort. Things are complicated when you know amends needed to be made, and that there will never be a chance to make them.
Joke's on them, now that they're here. ]
You up for some catching up?
no subject
Dragging his fingertips down the side of his mug, and again, his brows knit. It pulls at new tissue under the latticework of delicate dressings, itchy and raw like a skinned knee. )
'Catching up'? How- ( How long has it been since I died? ) How much have I missed?
no subject
Makes him wish he'd taken a moment in that final battle to close the gap between them. Two years for him, seven for Tony - surely they'd have flown alongside each other. Surely they could have reconciled. ]
6 months for me and...
[ Sam pauses, glances down at his own coffee with a frown, then back up. His eyes track over the bandages and dressings. His gaze is apologetic - not in pity, but because he's the bearer of potentially uncomfortable or emotional news. A whole mess and tangle of them. He'll start with what is relevant here and now, and work his way from there. ]
Bucky's here. So is... [ Sam pauses again. ] So is Natasha.
cw: self-harm, burns
Then Sam's got to go and drop that kind of bombshell.
Tony blanches. Sinks back heavily in his seat and hasn't the wherewithal to pretend that the chair back digging into his tender shoulder doesn't hurt. It's grounding, the way only physical pain can be sometimes, leaching out and satisfying the shock, the tide of grief. They had next to no time for anything but the mission, tacit agreement: "After it's finished", but After was Thanos, and destruction, and then his own death.
He doesn't realize his hand has slid off the table, either, or that he's gone and wrapped it around his bandaged wrist, rubbing it deeply, an unconscious effort to self-soothe he can't even register because he can't feel it. Blindly, he thinks he's holding himself together pretty well, even before he's aware his fingertips are damp with serous. )
Does she know?
no subject
C'mon, man. Gonna need you not to do this to yourself, alright?
[ Gentle pressure - nothing firm, just an encouragement to let go. Sam's thumb tracks over the inside of Tony's good wrist instead. ]
She knows. I caught her up on... well. On everything.
no subject
But she's here. She's okay. ( Eye level with Sam, something in his gentle mien makes Tony want to babble apologies, undeserving of Sam's kindness. He trades intensity for a deep breath, the duck of his head to control himself. )
What, uh, what else is going on, back home? I see you've upgraded.
no subject
Yeah... not entirely by choice, that.
[ But he waves his hand, dismissive - his eyes slide away from Tony's. A telltale sign that Sam's conflicted on whatever's on his mind. He busies himself checking the bandage slowly soaking up pink - he'll have to redo those back in the infirmary. ]
Rhodes is doing well. Saw him couple weeks ago. [ Softly: ] Your family's okay. Him and Happy are making sure of it. Parker's finishing up his school year.
no subject
He's not so lost in himself he misses Sam's prevarication, either. Tony squints at him again, but doesn't push, and then it's his turn to look away, because Sam's gone and answered the very questions he's been desperately afraid to ask. If he lingers on it, that day comes rushing back: the stricken look in Rhodey's eyes, Peter's dirty, tear-streaked face, and Pepper's calm, quiet resolve. There were other faces in his peripheral, but he only saw them, kept seeing them every time he fell asleep, with Morgan right beside her mother, reaching for him as he can't reach for her.
His face splits into a trembling smile, and for a split second he feels everything in him well up once more. But he can't put that on Sam, and so forces himself into steady calm again. )
Yeah? ( his good hand finds Sam's again, closing his calloused palm over his knuckles. )
Thank you.
no subject
[ Somethings you don't have to ask about. Sarah and the kids were the first things on Sam's mind after the battle had worn off and he'd grasped the full implications: Dead and gone for 5 years. He'd begged a phone off of someone in the team, can't even remember who anymore, only that he'd been shaking as he tried to make himself call. An hour passed before he could work up the nerve. He remembers the sound of Sarah weeping over hearing his voice, and doesn't think he'll ever forget the sound.
Similiarly, Sam thinks Stark must have passed with the faces of his loved ones seared in his mind. How could they not be the first things he'd want to know about, and be terrified to ask for all the same?
So Sam encloses Tony's good hand in his briefly, firm but gentle. ]
Careful now, Stark. [ Sam remembers the little float set out on the lake. Proof that Tony Stark has a heart. ] Wouldn't wanna ruin all your street cred.
[ But Sam's tone is gentle as much as it's teasing. Acknowledging the emotional weight, but lifting it a little, too. ]
C'mon, finish up your coffee. I'll take you back and redo that bandage after.
[ He doesn't let go of Tony's good hand for a moment though, makes sure the connection lingers. And even when Sam gets up, he has a hand on Tony's good shoulder as if he needs it to pull himself out of the crouch - he doesn't, of course. But it's a convenient pretense to keep a light connection up - Tony will probably see through it, but hopefully without feeling coddled too much. ]
no subject
Yeah, don't tell anyone, ( he warns lightly, flexing his fingers in Sam's warm, steady grip, ) they'll never believe you anyway.
( Following him with his gaze, Tony straightens. Far from annoyed, he's grateful- it's like he's been a counselor or something, he wryly snipes at himself -and centered, reaching again for his coffee. Once he's drained his mug, the silence between the men easier now, he pushes away from the table to stand. )
Alright, let's get this show on the road.
no subject
[ Sam shoots Tony a grin, makes sure he's on the man's good side, and offers his arm. It's strange, sliding back into this dynamic after two and a half years - well.. seven and a half, technically. Comforting, definitely. Tony may never have been the one on the team Sam was closest to, and they certainly had wildly different viewpoints on something, but none of that detracts from the time spent workshopping the wingsuit and Redwing, training maneuvers in the air together.
They make it back to the infirmary, slow step by slow step, and Sam gathers some supplies after helping Tony back into bed. ]
If I ask how bad it is, you gonna be honest with me?
cw: burns
It's because he grew up with bad influences, ( he tells him confidently, and though he can't lift his arm from its sling, Tony gives the impression of sweeping his hand out in a broad gesture anyway, ) DUM-E rats out U all the time.
( The light conversation bolsters him later, when he's resting back in bed, blankets dragged to the waist, going sober at Sam's question. He takes his time answering him, undoing fastenings on the sling, resting his bandaged arm out at his side. A fist-sized splotch of pink and yellow serum mar the dressings at his wrist, and Sam will find the new skin beneath it fragile, thinner than a bible page and showing the various new tissues beneath, at a stark contrast with Tony's usual deep, healthy tan.
Tony doesn't look at it, just keeps his gaze on the ceiling and sighs through his nose. )
The fancy med-tech here grows tissue. Pretty cool, honestly- you should look in on Dr. Cho when you get back, this is like, her baby- ( delay delay delay, quiet and thoughtful, an easy distance if he's talking about it like it's happening to someone else. ) I don't know if it's- damage from the stones maybe, long term. Blood vessels aren't bringing enough oxygen in, nerves are dying almost as fast as the technology can rebuild them. Body's not doing that great of a job holding onto it, up to-
( his good hand slides to the middle of his bicep, the straight line of his hand like a knife, and that is when he looks at Sam. )
no subject
I don't gotta tell you this ain't looking good. Might not get better either.
[ If necrosis sets in...
Sam's careful when cleaning the area, touches tentative and light. Everything about the wound is delicate. His dark eyes meet Tony's, serious and brief, before dropping down to the task at hand. Sam's nothing if not professional about that - and Tony knows he can trust him not to bullshit on this either. Sam's not the kinda guy who will downplay anything but his own hurt. ]
Where does feeling start?
[ 'Cause he winced when he sat back against his hurt shoulder, but not when he rubbed his wrist. And Sam has seen enough horrors on battlefields, worked on enough of them, to know where this might well be headed. ]
no subject
At the same time... he knows. And so does Sam.
Without a word, Tony swallows, and walks his fingers up to just a handspan's width below his shoulder, where the nerves tingle under that soft pressure. )
cw: mild flashback, mentions of amputation
Lips pressed together, Sam considers the position. Shifts closer, and gently lifts the bandages to look at the marks underneath. ]
Not gonna lie to you, might be too high up for transhumeral. [ Sam indicates the midpoint between elbow and shoulder without touching, where that amputation would work best - further down than Tony indicates. Risky to keep that much of the wound. ] Shoulder disarticulation would be the safer call. [ Sam gently places two fingers further up on the arm than Tony indicated, just where the upper arm bone meets the rest of the shoulder. ] If you need a comparison, the next step would be forequarter. [ He shifts his hand inward, places it diagonal over the joint towards the clavicle. ] That'd be like Bucky.
[ Sam leans back a little, but stays close enough that he can keep his voice down just between the two of them. ]
I'm not saying you gotta make that call now. Just... if we're out in the field...
[ He stops, swallows. Tony's smart enough to follow the thought. Sam's no surgeon - but he's a combat medic. His jaw clenches. ]
I'm saying you gotta tell me if you gonna make the call here, where you can recover safely, or if I'm packing a kit for you just in case next time we get sent out. 'cause in here, it's your call. Out there, I decide for you if I have to.
cw: mentions of amputation
He tries closing his fingers toward his palm and he can't tell if he succeeded or not. His hands are his entire life. Working, drafting, creating, protecting; passing tools to his dad while they worked on the hot rod together; grease-stained while he replaced DUM-E's wheels the night before competition; feverishly drawing those first sketches of the MK I on onionskin while Yinsen hovered at his shoulder. Feeling the hum and shuddering release of a repulsor blast; sliding warm and needy over Pepper's hips; holding Morgan for the first time, for the last time. Tony remembers the way her little fingers nest perfectly inside his palm, even as he can't feel a fucking thing right now.
The horror that Viveca might send them all out, even the wounded, that passes pretty quick. They aren't on Earth; those rules don't apply. Sam's made an offer, and Tony finds that he trusts him. )
Disarticulation.
( He looks up at Sam again, his gaze steady. )
Give me a week, Chief. ( Tony's smile is lopsided, grim. ) Gotta exhaust all my options first.
no subject
Sam is almost relieved that Tony calls for the safe option immediately. A transhumeral amputation might have worked, but Sam doesn't think it worth the risk - might have just been a temporary solutions with necrosis still creeping up through the rest of the arm. And the more they risk that, the higher the risk goes that they have to go forequarter to save Tony's life.
The safer option, then, with some time for Tony to figure out other options - or grow comfortable with this one. That's fair.
Oddly enough, perhaps, Sam drops his gaze. A small smile creeps over his features even below his concerned frown, expression momentarily near bashful. It's not an easy expression to put on his face. ]
Actually, these days it's---.
[ Sam stops himself. Swallows, hard and dry. The frown deepens.
I'm ashamed of you.
They will never let a black man be Captain America.
Good job, Cap.
Tony and Steve were... close in a complicated way, and Sam has no insight into how 5 years after Thanos have shaped them. Can he be proud of the title he's now claimed and earned in the face of the man who grew up with the shadow of a myth and then walked alongside the real deal?
Would Tony see Sam as a knockoff version the same way Sam considered John Walker little more than Walmart Cap? ]
Week sounds good. You gonna let me check up on that regularly to see if it's getting worse?
no subject
"These days it's" what, though? Tony tilts his head, feeling the bandage swathing his neck wrinkle and pucker. Know what folks don't say about Sam, The Falcon? That he's shy. Chewing on that, he nods, understanding. )
That's the idea, right? You know better than I do.
( Then, y'know, he's just gonna barrel right on ahead: )
So what is it, "these days"?
no subject
Anything to steer the conversation away. But Sam doesn't say that
Instead, he finishes the new bandage on Stark's horrific wounds, the best he can do for now, and discords the old ones, moves away from the bed to wash his hands. There's tension in his shoulders. ]
So... Steve retired. Day of the funeral. Went to bring the stones back, never returned the time travelling way. Went back the long way. Married. Wouldn't say to whom, but I mean... what are we, stupid? We know who he went back to and put a ring on, right?
[ Sam throws Tony a look, eyebrows raised. Like they're just gossiping about their team mates while calibrating Redwing. Like no time passed. Two years or seven. Sam sits back down. Leans back after a moment, puts his feet up on the bed next to Stark's legs, careful not to jostle him, but otherwise comfortable to take up the space. As if they're just chatting. As if nothing's amiss. Sam's good at doing that. At honing a mood to put everyone in the room at ease, as much as he can anyway.
Sam's glance lingers on Tony. ]
Do you... wanna know? About the service?
[ Not so much dodging as... trying to find the things that actually matter. Where to start and what to track back to. ]
no subject
( He declares it with a tinge of thoughtfully awed amazement, pausing his efforts to ease himself carefully upright again. The fat, plush unicorn sitting sentinel at the head of his bed is grabbed down and stuffed under his wounded arm in lieu of a pillow, pulled and adjusted by its face while he turns that news over in his head. It's something he's still processing when Sam returns, and eases onto his bed.
Steve Rogers, dropping everything in the future to go back to the past.
Tony lifts his good hand, as if to stop Sam's next question in its tracks. )
No, thank you, ( he admits, and continues, plucking at the sheets and one pink ear of the unicorn, ) Pepper and I have had the details squared away for a while.
( Nothing like his parents' funeral. Small, private, no grandiose speeches or lengthy eulogy, no enormous procession through the streets of D.C. He wouldn't put Pepper and Morgan through that, the public display of grief. Now, Tony points at Sam, and lightly accuses, )
Don't change the subject.
no subject
[ Glib, followed with a flat look. ]
Oh. Yeah. So they called it the Blip.
[ Please judge that moniker accordingly. Half of all life died for five years, and they called it the Blip.
Sam picks at a place on his pants that's not quite threadbare, but could become that if he keeps picking at it. Little use in keeping the story from Tony. Too many people here already know bits and pieces of it. Besides, Sam's gotta work his nerve up to confessing at some point. ]
I put Steve's shield in the museum after a couple months of letting Ross and his people lose their shit over it just sitting in some Louisiana backwater fishing town. [ A wry smile on his lips. Sam, ever willing to go the extra mile to piss of the people in power over him. ] They really didn't like not having it. Day after, they announced the new Captain America. So long story short, that didn't end up working out.
no subject
Resting back, he listens as Sam continues. There's some details he's missing, because the shield he remembers– broken in half by Thanos' double-bladed sword -is the only one that comes to mind. The specifics matter less than Sam's next revelation: they announced the new Captain America.
Of course. Of course Ross would immediately pull a stunt like that, after America lost three Avengers, after Ross had zero issue for years painting Steve Rogers- and the rest of the splintered team -as some sort of treasonous, rogue terrorist. America had to look strong on the world stage, and men like Ross only thought of strength as flaunted power.
Tony surprises himself by how incensed the thought makes him. He blows a breath out through his nose. )
Uh, can I hazard a guess here: blond, lantern-jawed good old boy from the Midwest? Former Special Forces? No ties at all to Steve, to anyone on the team?
no subject
And they called it the Blip.
It's the kinda joke someone makes to a room full of crickets, just a dry, awkward cough somewhere in the corner as the only reaction before the comedian has to shamefully shuffle off stage. ]
Damn close. John Walker. Blonde, blue-eyed poster boy from Georgia. Former Captain of the 75th Rangers Regiment. Three Medals of Honor for his service in Afghanistan.
[ Sam looks almost unbothered, but there's a certain hardness to his gaze, a subtle tightening in his jaw. It's likely not surprising to anyone who knows Sam's own service history, dedicating two combat tours in Afghanistan to saving people alongside other PJs. You don't see any accolades pinned on his chest, of course. ]
And nah, no ties to anyone. Walked on stage for his press junkets talking 'bout how he considers Steve his brother, though. You can imagine how that sat with Barnes.
[ And how did it sit with Sam? He doesn't mention. Probably doesn't have to, either. He's not ashamed of the fact that he stared at the TV announcement with his eyes full of tears, centuries of history pressing the air out of his lungs. Insult atop injury atop insult atop injury, and a much more personal grief mingled in between. ]
So day after I put the shield in a museum so people can remember Steve's legacy kindly, they introduce the new Captain America with his custom uniform. Day after, we got press tours and posters hanging all over the damn place.
[ Not things that could have happened overnight. Things that had to have been in the works since well before Sam made the choice to put the shield to rest. And Sam leaves no room for the sting he still feels over it all, the pain that threatens to bubble right back up, just soldiers on. ]
Now, world's in chaos right now and nobody with their ass in a government seat considers it their business to help. For five years, you had people free to cross borders and seek different opportunities than they ever been afforded. Then billions appear out of thin air again, and we don't got enough space and resources at hand. Naturally, plenty people wanna shuffle things back the way they were before. So now we got politicians deciding to force people into over crowded refugee camps at gunpoint, and looming deportations all over the place. I got intel on a group calling themselves Flagsmashers, and my contact tells me their leader hits harder than they should. Barnes invites himself along on my op, and Walker and his sidekick roll up, too. Hacked into my government property gear to track us. As you do. And what we find is a buncha kids half my age who steal money, medicine and food for refugees in need, whose entire movement is about the right to stay and keep borders open, and who got themselves some super soldier serum.
no subject
Motherfucker.
It's unfair to this Walker too, he knows. MoHs aren't passed out like Halloween candy; this guy had to be exceptional just to get one, much less three. Probably idolized Captain America, so much he couldn't imagine saying no, and clearly felt it was was his duty to chase after Sam and Bucky.
Tony doesn't ask how Sam felt, because he reads it in his face, in his eyes. Bucky and Steve went back farther than any of them, but Tony would have been blind to miss Sam and Steve's friendship. The regard both men had for one another, the trust. With Steve gone, Sam would be alone.
Did he tell you he was leaving? Tony wonders.
The five year gap wasn't all a world of vast, gleaming opportunity either– he remembers the emptiness of it, most of all, the silence that descended some places and never truly left. The shortages in manpower, in necessities as jobs were left empty, harvests were untended, manufacturing ground to a halt, and all supply chains stuttered and stilled. So many more died that first week alone, as parents, caretakers, doctors and emergency workers were simply gone. Everyone the world over knew someone who vanished, and eventually, that became what united them, forging new connections, driving migrations for work, for better lives than those they had left behind. The world was smaller, quieter, but they survived, they moved on.
Tony had mixed feelings about the mission, and he probably always will. He and Pepper had discussed outcomes before he left for the last time, plans in the event of success- or failure. Stark Relief was meant to assist the displaced, confused, and potential homeless who came back, an organized effort that would hopefully link with other organizations and governments across the globe. They couldn't just snap their fingers and leave people to flounder.
He's still turning that over when Sam wraps, and for a second there Tony thinks he misheard him. Tony straightens, his spine rigid, a cold block of ice settling in his gut. )
Where the Hell did they get that? Who made it?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)