1963-06-06 - Open Mouth, Insert Foot
Summary: Sousa goes to yell at Howard Stark and gets an unexpected gift.
Related: Daniel's Homecoming
Theme Song: None
howard sousa 


Ah the lovely Stark Mansion multiple floors hundreds of rooms, the very image of wealth and prosperity in the city of New York. It's hard to tell that such a massive building was once just a one story one room shack, but here it stands still a monument to the wealth of Stark. This enormous, city block-sized building is located at 890 Fifth Avenue, Manhattan, New York City, and if it doesn't just use every single square inch of that space on fifth avenue.

The wonderful brickwork across the outside of the building tastefully reserved color pallets, the general feeling of wealth emanating from every corner of this massive structure. The front door holds a small button for buzzing the home, and a visible camera attached right to that rather nice awning supported by marble pillars on either side. It might not have the largest yard but it is one of the nicest buildings in the city, just the way Howard always liked it.

With the mansion right there in the city, all Sousa had to do was hail a cab to get from his offices to the mansion. As soon as his work emergency was over, he made sure to head directly to the house where, if the man wasn't located, he'd wait. As long as it took. Or he'd make Jarvis let him know when Howard arrived. Either way, this was going to get discussed.

The cab is paid and drives off to collect other fares as Sousa limps his way to the front door. Once there, his hand leans on the bell and he looks directly at the camera, "You had better open this door this instant, Stark." If Jarvis is there, he'll apologize later. He's in no mood for games.

"The number you're trying to reach is no longer in service." Howards voice chimes in from the intercom system a small screen flipping out from the wall. The monitor itself a good foot thick but only about eight by eight inches of actual screen. The monitor flicks to life a low humming noise.

The video feed kicks in and Howard is wearing a thick welders mask, and a large apron sparks flying every which way as he works on what looks to be the torso of a suit of armor, though with the quality of the screen it's hard to tell if it's some recreation suit or some fresh invention. "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again, if you need help hangup and then dial your operator."

"Dammit, Stark, open the door this instant before I shoot it open." Someone has ticked Sousa off, big time. He bangs on the door itself this time with the foot of his crutch. "I don't care what the hell you're doing, you are going to stop and talk to me right now!" With SHIELD immunity, he's not above actually picking a lock to get inside no matter what, but knowing Stark, it's booby-trapped. Possibly with some literal incarnation of the name of the trap itself.

"Sorry, can't hear you, I'm just a pre-recorded message, a really advanced, handsome and charming pre-recorded message." He reaches over to one side pressing down on a button while welding together the massive piece of armor. With a click the doors start to slide open. "Honestly, I should be trying to invent you a sense of humor Sousa, you'd think I broke into your house or something." As the monitor slowly begins to flip back down the doors open wide enough for Sousa to fit through. The last thing visible before the monitor clicks off being Stark flicking closed his welding torch.

In the entrance way things seem to actually be somewhat clean. With the usual paintings and the like done up atop the walls. There's no real sign of Jarvis or the other staff though, at least not right now. The whole building seeming quiet, almost too quiet.

Sousa pushes through the door as it enters and he pretty much beelines it directly to the doors of the lab. "Stark!" he pushes the button for the intercom or whatever might be there for him to demand entry. "I will have you arrested for breaking and entering if you don't open this door right this instant and talk to me."

At least Howard knows -why- Daniel is here. Peggy may not know that he's here, but the ramifications of his little visit are too great to ignore.

In the basement of the building is a massive vault door. The thing looks big enough to stop a full on nuclear blast, but after the last time he's taken every precaution that he can in order to make sure this room is secure. Or rather he had before his vanishing. Millions of dollars went into making this little lab area, mixed in with some classified research and a heaping helping of grant money that he didn't need for the actual projects. "Two things."

Howards voice calls back over the intercom. "First off: The Nanny invited me in, which I know doesn't count for much but you really should work a bit more on vetting their IQ as well as their background." His voice not coming through the wall of the research area at all, but instead through that intercom. "Second: How have you been? It's so nice to see you're still kicking around."

Sousa knows full well that trying to force his way into the room is going to do more harm to him than to the door so he's not going to try, despite the immediate desire to do so. He also manages not to draw his gun because shooting the intercom will likewise do no good. So he takes a few deep breaths to calm himself before he answers, "You showed up at our house. Drunk. After two years and everyone thinking you were dead. What in Hell gave you the idea that you could come to our house and upset -my- family like that?" He and Peggy may progressive in thought and action, but it's still his family and he is fiercely protective over them.

"The babysitter had nothing to do with it, but now, thanks to you, we have to find a new one. Do you know the risk that puts us in?"

"Batting oh for three there, I showed up sober as a tack." Howard speaks over the sound of a hammer slamming down onto something hard and metallic the sound ringing out through the air. "I just wanted to keep the promise I made. Not a man to make or break promises." The slam of his hammer ringing out almost rhythmically as he works on whatever project it is on the other side. "You'd think after how many years had it been?" The loud slam of a hammer on metal. "You might have known me a bit better. Trust me, you're better off without that one."

"Peggy said you turned up drunk," Daniel points out, "And frankly, I question your definition of 'sober'." But he's trying to calm down, "What promise? It was two years and everyone thought you died." There was mourning. "I think I know you well enough, Stark, to know that you don't care about anyone else but yourself."

He begins to pace, which isn't the most comfortable of movements, "Who cares about the babysitter!" Except now they have to vet a new one which means more concern for their daughter's safety.

There's more hammering from the other side hard and firm with each strike ringing out. Rhythmic and well timed. "That's right, you've pegged me down to a t." Slamming down the hammer hard on that last word despite sounding calm and smarmy as ever. There's no image to indicate his own expression as he works on this intercom. "You've got all the answers."

There's a moments silence. "Except Peggy didn't show up till about an hour and a half after I got there. The nanny was too busy thinking she'd have the chance to score with a handsome salesmen" Pause for a hammer. "That's me by the way." Another hammer swing. "To actually even check who I was." A few more hammers. "And she didn't even share the bottle I'd brought along for you and Peggy."

Sousa slows in his pacing as he listens until he finally comes to a stop and balances himself with the crutch. "Why did you go inside, Stark? You know me, you know Peggy even better…why did you even let the babysitter let you in?" Drunk or not, he should have known better! At least, that's what he thinks. "Were you just thinking it was ok to sit and wait for us?" Not that he doesn't trust Howard, but he doesn't trust Howard.
"So you're basically saying that if we don't want seemingly random strangers coming into our house, or if we're concerned about our babysitters flirting with random salespeople, we should hire uglier nannies?" That obviously doesn't sit right.

Silence from the other side, no proper response. No witty come back no words of derision or anything close to an apology. Without even a single word a small panel opens on the side of the wall. Inside what looks to be a single mechanical boot with a few connection points on the end. Though the covering seems to be a shoe to match the one Sousa is currently wearing a quick look shows that the boot is actually a prosthetic of some kind. The other end is completely silent, once more that little light to show he's transmitting going away.

Sousa turns back as the panel on the wall opens to reveal the boot. Dark eyes look to it and then to the intercom on the wall and back. He doesn't take it from the panel, but he does ask, "What's this? Stark…come out and at least -talk- to me!" The intercom thing may mean safety, but it's hard to have insight when there's just a disembodied voice to listen to.

"It's called a prosthetic" Howard's voice calls out from behind, as he walks down the steps. "You're supposed to hook it up, and it reads the impulses from your nerves and transmits it into actual movement." He's speaking calm, and collected looking a bit younger then the last time Sousa had seen him, instead of pure white hair a rather nice head of natural brown hair peppered with bits of grey.

He places his thumbs down in a pocket on either side of himself, making his way slowly down the stairs. One step at a time of those perfectly particularly polished shoes. His own expression rather neutral and reserved. "Use it or don't it's yours."

He still looks a bit wary. "Hook it up…" is repeated before he gives a little shake of his head, "Why?" The two haven't been on the friendliest of terms, even when they did work together a few times in the past. Sousa tolerates him because of Peggy and appreciates his brilliance, but this random act of kindness seems uncharacteristic. As does his appearance. "What happened to you?"

"Just put it on like a boot, it dose the rest." Howard reaching the bottom of the stairs hands now fully inside of his pockets. He looks a bit more… put together now. There's a pause as he just waits for something to happen standing for that silent moment before speaking. "Wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Put it on like a boot on -what-?" as there's a missing leg there. Finally though, Sousa limps over to take the thing out of the panel, "Try me. I'm Head of Supernatural Investigations. I think you'll find me a bit open-minded to things otherwise not believed." Things happen in two years…his title may or may not be one of them.

The device weighs a little over ten lbs, and doesn't exactly look close to an actual human leg in the fact that it has a complex system of gears and other mechanics working along for it. It's highly advanced in nature a piece of tech likely made with some of the same equipment they'd taken from HYDRA back in the day, but it looks so oddly almost simple in design. There's what seems to be a small place to set the stump that was left of the connection into but how it works only Howard knows.

The former SHIELD director, and one time head of SI stands there quietly looking over to the man who'd once wanted to see him wallowing in a prison cell. "You find some interesting things when you spend time in the Diamantina Deep" His own attention falling back on the man as there's a slight motion for him to try it on. "Just position it as if you were about to put a boot on the foot that isn't there."

"Why?" is asked again but he does take the boot and looks at it for a moment. He takes in a breath as if he's about to say something, but he decides against it, choosing to keep whatever it was unspoken. At the mention of the Diamantina Deep, he tilts his head some in interest before he offers, "I'll grill you about that later."

The motion to try the prosthetic on has him glancing around, "I need somewhere to sit down." Daniel isn't able to just unhook his current prosthetic and attach a new one leaning on one leg and a crutch. It's hard enough the few times he's had replacements made and had to do without for a couple of days.

Howard looks for a moment at a blank space of wall before simply pressing his hand down onto a section of average looking concrete. A small section of wall cracks slightly showing there to actually be a door behind. He pushes it open slightly, showing one of the many miniature panic rooms installed into this mansion. Inside is little more then a bench and a monitor to show the hallway outside.

"Had a lot of people asking that lately," He moves back over to look at Sousa. "When you find out tell me." A small motion made to that sitting position. That miniature room is just barely big enough to fit two people if they squeezed tightly together or maybe four if each of them was sitting on someone lap, but it is enough for one person to set semi comfortably.

"No," Sousa clarifies, "Why did you make this for me?" As for why he went in search of some sort of cure or magic or black alien goop, he'll save for later. "We can talk about the grander scheme another time. I came in here like a stampeding elephant and you made me a prosthetic leg." That's his 'why'.

When the small room and bench are revealed, there's another dubious look before he limps his way inside. It would probably be unsurprising if he was shut up inside…after what he did to Howard in the past, but if he thought that the man actually meant him or his family harm, he wouldn't have come to discuss it.

Taking a seat, he pauses a moment before setting the new prosthetic beside him so that he can remove the current one. It's certainly 'modern' medical technology, but nothing as forward-thinking or advanced as anything Howard could have made. There's another glance before he does go to slip on the new prosthetic 'like a boot'…which is basically just resting the stump into the right place. How he knew the right size though, is beyond him.

"No," Sousa clarifies, "Why did you make this for me?" As for why he went in search of some sort of cure or magic or black alien goop, he'll save for later. "We can talk about the grander scheme another time. I came in here like a stampeding elephant and you made me a prosthetic leg." That's his 'why'.

When the small room and bench are revealed, there's another dubious look before he limps his way inside. It would probably be unsurprising if he was shut up inside…after what he did to Howard in the past, but if he thought that the man actually meant him or his family harm, he wouldn't have come to discuss it.

Taking a seat, he pauses a moment before setting the new prosthetic beside him so that he can remove the current one. It's certainly 'modern' medical technology, but nothing as forward-thinking or advanced as anything Howard could have made. There's another glance before he does go to slip on the new prosthetic 'like a boot'…which is basically just resting the stump into the right place. How he knew the right size though, is beyond him.

With a whizzing sound of metal on metal for a moment the boot expands out into a fully formed leg with a kneecap included. There's a low whirling of machinery as there's a slight twinge of not quite pain more discomfort, before the leg finishes conforming up to the stump. It's dark almost golden orange parts whirring and clicking into place. There's a moment that could cause some shock where the leg proceeds to expand and contract as if it were actual muscles without skin atop it.

The strange thing would be that he could actually feel his leg again. Not like a full on phantom pain that would sometimes come with a missing ligament but a full on feeling of his toes able to move within the shoe. Of course it's all just mechanical simulations of the feelings the advanced tech only able to do so much, and it'll never truly without covering pass for an original leg, but it works.

"If you want I can take the leg back." He points out looking with a heavy lean up against the wall of the hallway. His expression is a neutral one as he looks over towards Sousa. "Only if you don't want it."

Sousa gives a start as the parts begin moving, attaching to what's left of his leg, and elongating into something that, maybe not perfectly leg-shaped, is better than the wooden or metal prosthetic he's been wearing over the last twenty years. "Stark, what…" he begins but his thought is cut off when sensation actually returns. It's probably good thing that he's sitting down because all color drains from his face.
If he heard what Howard said to him, he doesn't react to it. Not for a long moment. Only when the color returns to his face and he remembers to breathe he asks quietly, "How do you take it off?"

It's not that he doesn't want it, but after nearly twenty years of not having and feeling a leg and suddenly it's there again? He's not entirely sure how to parse that.

Howard leans down into the room for a moment before pushing in a small glowing button right on the side of the leg. It's more of a push twist, and turn as to keep from accidental activation, but it only takes a few seconds. The leg then suddenly begins to shrink back to little more then that boot, the feeling vanishing from the leg as it could potentially fall to the ground without being caught.

Sousa reaches down to try and catch the boot before it falls and just holds it while his mind tries to work again. That was completely unexpected and he's not entirely sure where he should go from there. Tilting his head to the side, he looks at the inventor, "I don't know -why- you did this…and I'm not sure I want to know. I'm also not entirely sure I can deal with this right now, but…thank you."
There's no malice, no harsh undertones or wariness.

Reaching down further with a bit of care Howard moves to collect the arm if allowed. "Well it was worth a shot." Mentally he recounts over the details writing little notes for study later. Judging from the look on Sousa's face the initial test was a resounding success. Well that and the fact it didn't electrocute him to death, that was always a good thing. He couldn't really. He gives a light pat on the shoulder if allowed. "On the bright side, it did work, didn't it?"

"It worked," Sousa admits. The pat on the shoulder isn't brushed aside — it's almost like this is a new Howard, or one he's seeing for the first time. He knew about the brilliance, but there was always something self-centered about it. This, somehow, seemed less-so. "The things you could do with something like this…" is offered as he looks from the boot to the other. "I…didn't say I wasn't interested in it. Just…it takes some getting used to." Feeling his missing leg for the first time in almost twenty years. That's a bit overwhelming.

"Don't think I'm going to let you sell it though." A light pat on his shoulder before bringing his own arm back away. "I find that on some Russian black market I'm going to be mad." He's right back to pulling out a flask from his pocket so he can take a quick sip from its contents before tossing it back into his shirt pocket.

"Don't worry, you won't. At least, not if I have any say." He's still not entirely sure what to do with it at the moment, but it'll come home with him for now. Sousa then, almost reluctantly, attaches the old prosthetic before using the crutch to stand. "You should come by for a real visit, you know. Without any flask…and as 'sober as a tack'" or as close to it as Howard can get. "I know Peggy would be really happy to see you."

The argument seems to be over…for now.

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