gotup | open post v2.0

[ "analysis complete," jarvis reports.

tony glances up from the ruined mark iii faceplate he's working with. on another monitor, beside the one with the mark iii model, reads the result of the analysis: "no identifiable match found." below the words lies the dna readout of the strands of golden brown fur that tony picked off his clothes a month ago during the helicopter ride out of that afghan desert and promptly forgot about until now. in his defense, building the armor consumed his thoughts, then with everything that happened after...

tony frowns. he's not equipped for this sort of analysis, knowledge-wise. "forward the data to dr. alan douglas. see if he gets any bites, literal or otherwise," he tells jarvis.

dr. alan douglas does not, in fact, get any bites. the dna of the fur is unrecognized anywhere in the world's zoological records. a mad scientist's amalgamation of human male and lion is the best douglas can surmise. "do you have any further information for me?" he asks curiously over the video call.

tony thinks of the hazy dream of a lion-man's face as he lay dehydrated and injured after exploding his way out of the ten rings's capture; the dream of soft fur against his cheek, of a clawed hand (paw?) so big it engulfed his entire head as it helped him drink. "... nope!" he says, and that ends that.

with a company to raise from the ashes and terrorists and weapons to turn into ashes, tony shelves the mystery of the lion man. but the possibility has wormed its way in and nestled, a quiet constant in the back of his head: what if it wasn't a dream? when he's talking up the investors about the company's new direction, what if? when he's detecting and removing old land mines in the mark iv, what if? what if?

there's someone else out there who saved me.

he happens to return to that area as iron man, a few miles from where he was held, farther into pakistan and in the pamir mountains. his mission is to eradicate the cache of weapons he located in another ten rings cell. it's night, so the explosions make for a spectacular light show. the ten rings are completely helpless against the armor. though this is a different cell, and each cell operates independently, tony rains fire down on them with prejudice.

once every terrorist is either dead or has fled, tony checks the site for remaining caches. he'll need to sweep all nearby caverns, too.

he gets to work. ]

[He doesn't know how long he's been like this. Years, he thinks; time blurs, time spent in a cage, time after he escaped and ran away. He could mark the days, the months, the seasons if he cared. Sometimes he thinks he should, because time is a human concept. But deep down, he doesn't want to keep track of an eternity.

The man he finds at the edge of the desert interrupts his routine. Carefully, he nurses him back to health, brings him food and water. He keeps his distance, makes sure he's still in a state of delirium or half-consciousness when he's cleaning his wounds or coaxing him to drink. Once the man's healthy enough to move on, he carries him to a different cave while he's asleep, leaves him there like he's a wounded baby bird he's setting free.

And, like the birds, he doesn't expect to see the man again. He puts him from his mind and goes back to his solitary life in the mountains. Men have been more active at the fringe of his territory lately, and it worries him. There are some small villages, a few groups of nomads, but these are organized men with weapons, and they settle in caves. (It would be so easy to take care of them, he knows. So easy to creep in at night and surprise them, to rip and tear until bodies litter the floor. He's done it before - but he came here to stop doing that.)

He's become used to the explosions and lights in the night. (It stirs something in the back of his mind, burnt-out buildings, the shriek of shells, but the memories are dim.) The camps are good for salvage, he's discovered, and man-made goods come in handy. He's already taken several large bags of rice from the caves and taken them back to his storage; rice helps him make the most of meat and stretch his diet out. Now he's loading up a pack with smaller rations and blankets; a few of them are already full. In his wake, he leaves a trail of wrecked weapons - every time he finds a gun next to a body, he crumples the muzzle by squeezing it in one paw. He has strong feelings about guns in his territory - he doesn't know if these could hurt him, but he doesn't want to find out, either.

He hears footsteps in the cavern, and his ears swivel in the direction of the noise. These are heavier than most humans', and they make a strange metallic noise against the rock. He crouches, tensed to spring, his tail lashing around his ankles.]

[ "hold off the hounds for like fifteen more minutes tops. i'll be cleared out by then," tony is telling rhodey over the comm link inside the iron man helmet. "i have plans tonight, and they involve less generals and more hot tu–oof!"

the sensors pick up the second presence the moment he turns the corner, but too late: massive bulk barrels into him and knocks him down. the armor clangs heavily against the cavern floor. tony, for his part, stares up wide-eyed at the lion's face growling at his mask.

"tony?" rhodey calls.

tony keeps staring.

that's him. he's real.

"tony!"

"yup, roger that," tony gasps. "fifteen and i'm out. bye."

he ends the call.

the lion-man, all olympic-weightlifter seven feet of him, has him pinned by the upper arms. tony can still use the repulsors by swiveling his wrists, and while he can't break the lion-man's grip (not even with the thrusters, tony figures; he remembers iron monger's strength dragging him down), he has a wide arsenal of other tools to harm or stun the thing enough to escape.

but he's not attacking. and he saved me.

even if the lion-man could break through the armor, which tony doubts, not with the improvements he's made (he feels invincible), tony doesn't think he'd be harmed so long as he poses no threat. he relaxes. ]

Uh, nice kitty?

Edited 2020-07-05 02:28 (UTC)

[He bares fangs longer than a man's hand, his golden eyes narrowed and his whiskers bristling. Nice kitty, indeed. But the man in the suit - at least, he assumes there's a man in there - doesn't seem inclined to harm him. He's suspicious as hell, but he relents enough to let him up.]

No, [he growls in response.] I'm not a nice kitty.

[But the man speaks English - American English - and he's obviously the one who's been clearing out the camps. He might be a potential threat, but he doesn't appear to be an enemy, not at first glance. His gaze travels up and down the suit - still prone on the floor - and he dismisses him and goes back to rummaging through the supplies.]

So you speak. English, too.

[ iron man heaves himself up, knees bent and one elbow on them, leaning back on his hand. tony watches first the hud, fascinated, as it feeds him information and then the lion-man himself. there's no known (available) record, not even a reported or rumored sighting of a humanoid lion before. could there be more like him? a whole tribe, hiding under humanity's collective noses?

there's still a job to finish, tony reminds himself. they both need to get out, and soon. iron man clanks into a stand. ] Not with the Ten Rings, are you? 'Cause I'd hate to give PETA a reason to ride my ass.

Вы бы предпочли другой язык?

[His tone is dry, although there's no more Russian forthcoming. He knows there are other languages lurking in the depths of his mind, but, like most of his memories from before, they're fragmented. Russian is the only one that comes easily, and he has his captors to thank for that.

(He doesn't like speaking Russian. There are too many bad memories tied to it.)]

I don't know what either of those are.

[It's a brusque dismissal. He opens a MRE with a claw, then lifts the container to his mouth and licks out the meat before tossing it aside.]

[ and the guy also speaks russian (which tony does not, but he can recognize it, and jarvis will translate if asked). the ... guy-lion. the gion. like a liger, but with guy and lion. tony unofficially dubs gion as the species' name. ]

Good. Good answer.

[ after a pause and a sigh, iron man steps to the gion's side and looks up. even in the armor tony only reaches chin-height with him. ] Listen. Hey. Simba. [ maybe that last bit will get the gion's attention. ]

[He doesn't understand why the man is calling him Simba, but it's not like he has a name to give him, either. The tip of his tail twitches, hitting one leg of the suit.]

What?

[The armor is the only thing keeping him from knocking the man unconscious and leaving - the only thing that kept him from doing just that in the first place. Now he's concerned that he'll report his presence to...well, whoever. Anyone at all. He just wants to be left alone.]

[ tony glances down. isn't a swishing tail a sign of irritation? not to mention that tone. with a deep breath, he makes what might possibly be the stupidest decision of his soon-to-be-over life: he reaches up both hands, the helmet hisses and unlocks, and he bares his unprotected head. his hair is matted flat to his forehead (helmet hair, maybe he should start keeping it shorter?), and he's more cleaned up than when the gion last saw him, but his face with the circular white-blue light in his chest should connect the last of the dots. man, tony really hopes this is the same gion and not a pride-mate or something. ]

You're the one who helped me, aren't you? [ he asks, meeting the gion's eyes, his own widened in awe. i really didn't dream it. ] About two months ago, in the desert in Afghanistan. It was you.

[As the man moves, he tenses, first out of caution, then from shock - he'd honestly never expected to see him again, even if he'd survived the desert. He leans in closer to sniff - not that he really needs to, but he does anyway - and, yes, the scent is the same.

Fuck, he thinks, and his heart sinks. He'd remembered and come back. After all these years of caution, it really did only take one act of kindness in the end. His ears press close to his head as his thoughts race. (He could crush his skull like a melon in one bite. Humans are so small, so fragile.)

He moves back slowly, forces himself to relax a little. (He's not going to kill him. He can't.)]

It was, [he confirms. Doesn't even think about lying, because what good would it do?]

You weren't supposed to remember me, [he adds, voice quieter as he glances away.]

[ the strength of the sniff lifts part of tony's hair. briefly startled, he bears with it, then mirrors the gion's tension, gripping the helmet tighter, face dropping the awe for guarded wariness. (he can kick out with the thrusters to make space, get the helmet back on...) he's made poor character judgments before after all, one very recently. his trust is in short supply these days. but the gion backs down, and tony follows suit, relaxing as well. ]

And I'm not supposed to be alive, but here we are. [ he slides the helmet back on. it locks into place, the plates shifting together, eyes renewing their glow, and the speakers mechanizing his voice. ] You got somewhere we can talk? This area's about to be teeming with American and Pakistani troops and I take it you're a little camera shy.

[He bares his teeth and his chest rumbles with an irritated growl. Of course he's bringing troops down on him, and who knows how long they'll stick around, and how closely they'll examine the surrounding terrain. After this man leaves, he'll have to seriously think about leaving, and all of the work he's done over the years will be ruined, and who even knows how he'll find another place this uninhabited-

One thought at a time, he reminds himself. He's survived this long, surely he can make it through this.]

I'll wait for you at the entrance.

[He picks up the packs he's filled and slings them over one shoulder, meandering slowly back to the entrance to the caves to wait; once they get started and he's outside the cave, he drops down onto all fours in a ground-eating lope. Instead of using one of his smaller nests nearby, he leads the man to his "home" cave - a system not unlike the ones the humans have been moving into, with a water source deep within the mountain and plenty of caves for storage. They don't go very far past the entrance, though.

After he's dropped his burden near a wall, he rummages through one of the packs and takes out a battery-operated lantern and switches it on to give them light.]

Sorry I don't have any coffee to offer you.

[More of that sarcasm - but it's worth noting that the vowels in the word 'coffee' are broad and Brooklyn-esque, betraying a home he can't even remember.]

Edited 2020-07-06 19:53 (UTC)

[ tony honestly expects the gion to be gone by the time he finishes canvassing for weapons and he wonders if that wouldn't be the best for the both of them. but to his pleasant surprise, they meet up. in the far distance whirl the blades of two military helicopters, so they steal into the night. tony spurs the suit into low-hanging flight, tracking the gion on his hud. even the king of the jungle's powerful gait can't match the mark iv in the air, so tony pulls tricks to slow down and entertain himself: a spin, barrel rolls, a loop-de-loop. (if rhodey was ever right about anything, it's the joy and privilege of flight.) and–okay, sure, he's showing off, too.

he hovers lower, lighter in his heart, and follows until they reach the entrance, where he cuts off the thrusters. tony clomps alongside his host. inside, he analyzes his surroundings, head tilting. ] I've had worse hospitality, trust me.

[There's not a whole lot in here. Scorch marks on the stone and the leftover bits of fuel show where there's usually a fire, and in one corner, there's a pile of dried grass with an assortment of blankets thrown on top. Near the firepit, there's a large iron cookpot, currently empty.

Intelligent eyes blink at him, flashing gold in the light from the lantern.]

What did you want to talk about?

[ that impassive mask stares back at him. then, tony removes his helmet again, holds it under one arm (a more casual stance than before, but just as personal with the eye contact), and says, short and simple and so sincere, ] I owe you.

No, you don't.

[He softens slightly. Whoever he was before, whatever he was, there are some things that run bone-deep. They'd tried to change that, but they hadn't succeeded entirely; free from their control, he clings to the only thing he can be certain about. His morals might not come into question often out here, but when they do, he stands by them.]

You would have died if I'd left you there. I couldn't let that happen.

Edited 2020-07-08 23:04 (UTC)

[ of course the gion's noble. of course. tony almost rolls his eyes. ] Not a real strong case for your argument, gotta say. In your own words, I would've died, right? Ergo, I owe you.

Edited 2020-07-09 23:00 (UTC)

Is there a reason why this is relevant?

[He steps to the side for a moments and rummages through the packs, coming up with some jerky of some kind. He makes a face at the plastic it's wrapped in, but rips it open and starts chewing on a couple strips.]

[ tony purses his mouth shut. he could say, "thanks for helping me, see you never!" and jet off into the night like the gion so obviously wants, but something else roots tony in place. some need he has trouble articulating. the gion risked his own security to help him, and human contact must be dangerous for him if he's staying so hidden. tony can guess why–word gets out, and everything from cat enthusiasts to nat-geo would be on him. hell, the world would be. the gion just wants to j.d. salinger his way through life. yet he helped tony anyway, and here they are again meeting by complete chance. it has to mean something. doesn't it?

don't waste your life.

after a period of silence, tony motions to the packs, his tone lower, chastised. ] ... You need food? [ jerky can't be enough for the gion's size. he should be eating, like, a whole antelope. how much big game is out here? ]

Edited 2020-07-12 23:00 (UTC)

It never hurts to have it. I eat a lot, and it helps stretch things out.

[Never having quite enough to eat seems like a natural state of being to him. He has enough to survive, but more than that? He can't remember ever having enough.]

There are sheep and goats, [he offers awkwardly.] Small deer. I've killed bears a few times. I move around a lot, to keep from depleting the resources. If I have to, I take from the herds, but- it doesn't seem right. Folks out here work hard enough for what they have without having something like me steal from them.

[There are those damn morals of his again. To say nothing of the fact that a large predator depleting the herds at the rate he could - much more than the area's few natural predators - would certainly draw notice. He can't remove all traces of his presence.]

I don't exactly talk to many people, [he adds with a certain self-conscious wry tone, well aware of how awkward he sounds right now.]

Edited 2020-07-12 23:06 (UTC)

[ for the first time, tony wonders if the lone ranger act for the gion is a choice or a necessity and simple fact of life. either way, an idea is forming. a crazy one, but he's had crazier, and recently, too.) ] Any others like you?

[He shakes his head, and his mane moves slightly with the motion.]

Just me.

[It's not totally impossible that they'd made other hybrids that he'd never found out about, but it's unlikely, or so he thinks.]

I'd hope anyone else would have the sense to live somewhere warmer.

[Because it gets damn cold up here sometimes - not as cold as Siberia, but there are times when he has to huddle under furs to stay warm.

(He's considered just letting the cold take him before, but he's not sure it would kill him, and it's not worth the risk.)]

No kidding, [ tony mumbles, mainly to himself, eyes drifting to the cave walls and mind drifting with them: in it he's wrapped up in tattered wool and scratchy blankets in front of a coal fire. he turns away to break himself out of it (doesn't like to dwell); the memory clears like smoke and he's the wind. affecting casual, tony observes the gion's nest. ] So, would you? If you could?

[ direct again, to the gion: ] Live someplace warmer?

Edited 2020-07-14 23:15 (UTC)

Oh, sure, maybe I could have a nice cattle ranch in Texas.

[Not that he's being sarcastic or anything. Not him!]

Hard for me to get anywhere else without being noticed. I don't exactly blend in.

[The jungles of southeast Asia aren't a total impossibility, but they don't have the sheer desolation he's found here. It's borderline inhabitable for humans, which makes it perfect for his needs.]

So it's kind of a moot point.

[ tony's head tilts. the gion has some decidedly human knowledge and characteristics. was he around humans before? maybe captured, separated from his species? (was he human before?) ] I was thinking more ... private island-y. But you're right. Transport would be tricky. If only you knew someone with a multitude of connections and, let's say, a private jet.

tale as old as time...

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