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Hope managed to find the Xavier Institute and the X-Men who lived there, but they weren't quite what she was hoping for. Not yet, at least. And there didn't seem to be any mutants with time travel powers, which wasn't going to help her get back to her own time. Which left two possibilities: Reed Richards or Tony Stark. She doesn't have the best relationship with the Avengers of her own timeline, but things are different now…Right?
She's at least managed to find clothes that blend in a little better with the current era, though jeans and a mens undershirt still aren't the most subtle thing. Nor is the fact that she just walks up to the front door and knocks.
"Hello?" asks Steve Rogers as he opens the door. They don't actually get a ton of visitors here, or at least less than you'd expect. This one, however, is one he wouldn't have expected because, well, he has no idea who she is. He opens the door wider, however, because with her slight frame she doesn't appear too threatening. "What can I help you with?" he asks cheerfully.
Tony comes up from downstairs, where he's been working out where he'll put Bruce's stuff in the lab once there is one. How long has he been down there? He didn't exactly announce himself coming in earlier. He jogs up the last few steps, and Steve's cheerful tone gets a small eyeroll from Mr. Stark. "Let me know when the Boy Scouts start selling cookies," he says on his way toward the kitchen. "I'm starving."
A catalogue out of Sotheby's New York sits on a table. A tall carafe of water sweats beside it, placed neatly on a trivet probably better suited for a skillet. Diana has committed an indecency on the catalogue, tearing a glossy page from the black and white strings of text. A yellow legal pad braced on her gauntleted forearm presents a good spot to make notes, three paperclips holding the page in place. Knocking interrupts her train of thought, and the dark-haired Amaazonian princess looks up. "I can get…" she offers, but there is Steve getting the door. Her smile goes a little higher, but there's a perturbed quality to her brilliant gaze that has nothing to do with the redhead on their doorstep. Instead, she moves in closer, neglecting what she reads for a moment. "Hello, miss. Is there anything we can do for you?"
"Hi. My name is Hope Summers, and I'm looking for Tony Stark." If there's anyone on the Avengers that you can just say something like it's normal and hope it just passes, it should be Captain America, right? She's young enough, could be she's an illegitimate child. At least she doesn't look like she's here to pick a fight with anyone.
An illegitimate child, or a young lover, or any number of things. It all sort of makes sense no matter which way you slice it. Steve gives Diana a look and shrugs his shoulders as he calls over to Stark. "Tony! Visitor!" He's not sure what the etiquette is in this situation. Bucky and he had a system back in the day but that's not something that we should talk about here.
Tony ambles out of the kitchen with a tumbler in one hand. Starving, right. "I don't get visitors," he informs Steve as he wanders over. He flashes Diana a brief smile. "Have we met?" Then back to Steve, and Hope, he fires off, "I'm not even here." He pauses, look at Hope, then admits, "I could be here. What's the occasion?" Sure she could be an illegitimate child. So could half the Playboy bunnies he's slept with.
Diana's consclusions drawn probably have little to do with illegitimacy so much as, say, a bad debt or an internship. Although that might be out of the norms for things in modern New York. Her smile remains in place and she steps to the side for the erstwhile Stark to emerge from his mechanized den, mumbling about cookies and his blood sugar. "Hello, Miss Summers. Well, don't stand on the doorstep, please come inside." Her gesture warmly indicates. "You can wait with us here. Would you like a glass of water? Wine?"
Hope steps inside at Diana's invitation, though she pauses at the offer for wine. "Water…would be great, thanks," she says with an uncertain flicker of a smile before she catches sight of Tony, stepping forward and holding out a hand. "Hi. My name is Hope Summers, and I need your help, Mister Stark. I'm sort of stranded here from about forty years in the future. Which means I need a time machine. Or, you know, help with one." Because she could otherwise do it herself?
Steve takes a step backwards as he looks to Hope, then Tony, then Hope. Is this going to turn into one of those things that he really wish he wasn't there for. As she speaks, he's pleasantly relieved until she gets to that part about the future. Clearly this girl is crazy. "What?"
Okay, that takes Tony by surprise. Both brows rise, and he glances around at the others, as if to check they heard this, too. Yeah? Okay. "Lady—wait, Miss Summers, is it? Miss Summers, if I had access to a time machine, I woudln't be nursing this hangover." He takes a sip from his hair of the dog.
'Time travel.' That phrase puzzles Diana for a few moments. Her brow carries the weight of consideration lined over her arching raven brows, and her mouth quirks to the moue formed by thought. Turning her head, she murmurs quietly to Steve, "Is this a kind of humour with Mr. Stark? Or is she trying to flatter him?" The definite Mediterranean infusion to her accented words marks her as an outsider if her olive-toned skin didn't. She turns, then, and goes to pour a glass of water.
"Yeah, that's why I'm not here asking to use your time machine, I'm asking for your help with one." Hope slings a backpack over her shoulder, full of things that clank. "I know it's possible. I've been making time jumps since…the day I was born, practically. They're not fun, most of the time you throw up, but it's absolutely possible. You just don't have the tech here yet. And while I sort of understand the basics, in that I could…maybe fix one if I saw it, I'm not smart enough to come up with one from scratch. But you are. I mean, you or Reed Richards, but I met him once, and he seemed as likely to get distracted by the possibility of meeting Isaac Newton as to actually finish the project." She glances to Steve and Diana as well, but it's definitely Tony she's hanging her hopes on. Poor kid.
There must be something going around. For there's another knock on the front door. Clearly, Tony needs to make this place a robot butler. And when the door opens, there's Bucky. He's in a blue workshirt over a white t-shirt, clean jeans. And by his expression, his next question is likely to be if it's okay for Steve to come out and play stoopball.
Steve immediately envies Diana and her earlier offer about getting the girl some water. He has no idea how to react and immediately worries about where to put his hands as she talks about time travel and gives Tony another thing to be arrogant over. Oh, in the future this guy could create time travel. He believes in none of it, of course, but Tony might just because, well…it sounds pretty nice to hear you may be one of the most brilliant men ever. Oh god thank you it is Bucky. "Buck," he says with a nod. His friend being here will lessen the need to retell the story.
May be? Tony takes another drink, and he looks like he's just about to dismiss it all with a pithy one-liner, but then Hope goes and mentions Reed Richards. "That hack," he says. "No, he wouldn't know time travel from a carburetor. I'm interested in your premise." Even if it's so he can explain to the pretty redhead where she's mistaken, thus looking far, far smarter. He glances around. Is there an audience? Excellent.
A glass of water poured from the carafe also gives Diana the distraction of placing the legal pad and the torn page down. She wears a short-sleeved shirt that leaves her metal bracelets fully on display. Not like she could hide them if she wanted to, and they too set her apart. Returning in a few moments with the glass for Hope will be easy enough. Wait, look, another person at the door. She turns to fetch a second glass, prolonging her escape from the trouble. Returning, thus, she has something to hand Hope and Bucky. How's that for diplomatic service? "Hello. I'm Diana," she tells Bucky. And Hope, actually. "That's clearly an uncommon concept. I imagine they're about to be holed up all night."
Hope glances over her shoulder as someone else comes to the door, offering a brief, distracted smile toward the man. "It's not a premise," she rolls her eyes at Tony, though Diana gets a quick smile of thanks. "It's real. It's just complicated. And normally I'd be patient, but I need to get back to my time, and I can't-" She pauses, and for a moment it looks like tears are welling. "Look, normally I'd say Nathan would come and get me, but he- he- He died, okay? So there's not anyone else who knows how, so we have to figure it out."
He lays eyes on Diana, and for an instant, Bucky looks utterly stricken. Looks like someone's broken the streak of redheads. Then he's offering both a hand and a rather bemused smile. "I'm James, I'm a friend of Steve's," a jerk of the head indicates Cap, "But I usually go by Bucky." Then he's overhearing Hope's story, and falling silent. His gaze goes to Steve, brows going up. Is this a bad time? his expression asks.
Steve shrugs his shoulders as if to say he has no clue what's going on. How do you say that this girl thinks she's from the future, probably needs to see a shrink, and of all people believes that Tony is the right person to hel…Wait a second. Tony is the perfect person to help someone in her predicament, with her features. Nevermind.
"Let me see what you've got, then" Tony says with an amiable wink. He's being good, for him. He's kept his eyes up, and his body language is at least 75% sleaze-free. He must be trying to make it work with Pepper again. Or someone. But the young woman gets teary-eyed and his brow furrows. He gives Steve an appealing look. Come… do something. About the touchy-feely stuff. Diana gets a look, too. She's a woman, this is her wheelhouse, right? Bucky gets a distracted nod. "Just, uh. Yeah, settle down and we'll talk about that."
Woe be to the ravenette destroying the pattern of redheads or blondes. It's about time one of the other hair colours had a chance at shaking things up. Diana reaches out her hand to shake Bucky's. Glittering bands of metal at her forearms twinkle with an incised star pattern and otherwise don't match with her wholly casual attire. "Any friend of Steve's is welcome here as a friend. James, good to meet you." She withdraws her cool fingers. This is indeed her wheelhouse when she turns to Hope, and gravitates to the younger woman's side. There's something about having almost two millennia to your name comforting other women. "Come and sit down. This is not the kind of conversation to have standing in the foyer of a house." Or, quite frankly, anywhere but that's beside the point. "Don't think too poorly of them. You gave them something of a shock, that's all. Would you be so kind as to start at the beginning, Miss Summers? You are lost," a guess, "and the person you expected to find you died. Is that right so far? You are trying to get back somewhere. Home?"
Hope wipes quickly at her eyes with the back of her hand, doing her best to pretend she wasn't about to cry. There's no time for crying. Just fix the problem. That's what Nathan would have said. "No it's…It's not that simple," she shakes her head to Diana, following her further inside with the bag hugged against herself. "Sorry. Sorry, it just, it hasn't been that long, and he was all I ever really had, and I never had time to-" She clears her throat, shaking her head as she looks around at the others.
"None of you are mutants," she observes, sounding absolutely certain. "I mean, you're Captain America, of course, and you're Tony Stark. But you and- It was Bucky, right? You're not mutants either. So, this won't be personal to you. But at some point in the future, something happened. All but about a hundred mutants lost their powers. The rest were hunted by very bad people. No more mutants were born or developed powers. Until me."
She wipes at her eyes again, but explaining seems to have calmed her down, at least. "There were a lot of people who thought that meant that I was…special. So they tried to kill me. The X-Men stopped them, but the fight was brutal. To keep everyone else safe while I was growing up, they gave me to Nathan, who took me forward in time. The rest is…you're not going to believe it anyhow, so suffice it to say I grew up in the way future until it was time for us to go back to finish the fight. And we did, but he died. And then new mutants started to show up again, but their powers were out of control, until I could touch them. And that's what I was doing when I got blown back here."
He's accepted the glass of water….and only now has it sunk in that he's standing in the presence of Tony Stark. Who doesn't seem to care about just how badly their past encounters went. Which is very much an improvement, really. Buck looks like he'd like nothing so much as to just vanish into the woodwork.
Steve's look back to Tony is exasperated. What in the world is he supposed to say to make this girl feel better? But Diana saves the day, however (+1), and so he goes back to listening quietly. He leans against the post of the doorway, listening to her story, becoming more and more saddened by what Hope has to say. "That's terrible, Hope," Steve replies. "I understand you're at a really bad part of your life right now. From our perspective, though, you know that this must sound crazy."
Tony takes up a lean on the other side of the doorway against the wall, glass in hand. He and Steve frame it like statues of lions at the entrance to a temple, or some strange yin-yang motif. "The smart thing to do would be to stay put for awhile, form a plan while this time travel thing gets sorted out, then neutralize them before they can become a threat." He pauses, then adds, "And it's terrible about Nathan." He'll let Steve handle the 'are you nuts?' angle. For now, Bucky's overall Buckiness escapes his notice.
Diana opened the Pandora's box and her role remains to listen intently to what Hope speaks. Anything less dishonours the request made. She has a handkerchief somewhere, and after a bit of patting, comes up with the neat square from the pocket of her skirt. Of course her skirt has a pocket. With any luck this will ease any discomfort on the young woman's part. The quiet doesn't break immediately as she thinks heavily upon aspects of the story rolled out to them, finally looking for a place to sit opposite her. If it comes down to it, the floor works perfectly fine.
"You aren't alone now, Miss Summers." Her smile upturned to the eponymous storyteller. "From my perspective, this sounds harrowing. It is bad enough you were threatened as a mere girl, a child, for no reason other than being yourself. But to lose everyone who sheltered you or helped you makes it altogether harder." Her smile fades away on that note, replaced by a long, compassionate look filling the entirety of her fair blue eyes. "You've come for Mr. Stark's help to go back and help those mutants out of control?"
"It's not-" Hope takes the handkerchief, but mostly ends up twisting it between her fingers, brows furrowed in a frown. "That's my life. I've never known anything except for being hunted. It's not a big deal, there's no time for pity parties." Or at least that's what she learned from her father-figure. "Crying doesn't fix anything. Saying it's not fair doesn't fix anything. You just have to do what you can. Which, right now, means talking to Mister Stark to see if we can come up with something to open up a portal. Or something."
Clearing her throat, she leans down to open up the backpack, which appears to contain disassembled…very futuristic guns. "I took these from the Purifiers that followed me. A couple of them got shot, but I think NYPD has the other ones. Although they probably already sent them to an asylum." Because they're not cute teenage girls who knew enough to go to superheroes and avoid the cops.
He may be walled off and confined in the prison Xavier's built in Bucky's psyche. But that doesn't mean that Winter doesn't make his opinions known….and he pricks up his ears, so to speak. It makes Bucky lean in a little, even as he winces. This suddenly just got real. T he comment about never having known anything but being hunted is enough to make his lips thin out again - Steve knows that look all too well. He keeps his mouth shut. Tony'll connect the dots sooner or later.
Steve takes a look into the bag and immediately starts believing this girl might be telling the truth. In the past year and a half since he came to this world, thawed from the icy suffocation of his frigid crypt, he's seen aliens, mutants, and miniskirts. Everyday something new and shocking, and judging from these guns, maybe there's something else that will surprise him about these times.
Tony frowns. More emotions. "That's the spirit," he says to Hope saying these things don't fix anything. "All right, look. Just. Wait, what are those?" He comes over to look in the bag. His eyes brighten. He's a little boy on Christmas morning. "What are these?" he says. "May I?" He reaches for one to lift out of the bag. "Ooh, yes, I definitely want to take a closer look at these." Was there a conversation going on? Tony checks out of it, keeping only half an ear on the talking as he examines the piece.
Diana doesn't hiss at the guns. She does stare at them with unblinking intensity reserved usually for the hot dog eating contest held by Nathan's on Coney Island, and that may be incredibly uncomfortable. "These things are not common. Nor good." Her statement may prove unnecessary, but she'll let someone else enjoy the sight of the guns. Her shoulders tighten a bit. "I will make inquiries about the police. It could be they will answer something." Her gaze flicks to Steve. This is his strong suit, right?
"Laser guns, basically," Hope answers Tony. "But I already destroyed the control chips, because there was this shady guy hanging around when we got blown through, and he didn't seem like the sort who was going to be cool with the fact that replicating any of it was a no-go in the interest of not breaking time. Or the future. So…be careful, it's probably unstable." Which, you know, is why she was just carrying them around in a backpack. "I don't think they did it," she adds to Diana. "I think it might have been the new mutant. Which…is gonna be complicated, since I'm not there to stabilize things."
Bucky is still silent, listening….though he breaks it to say softly to Steve, "I need to talk to you in private, sometime soon. 's important." There's that strain in his face, that old wary quiet.
Steve nods to Diana, "I can help with that. I've got some friends in the NYPD. Maybe I can see what they'll tell me." And then, Bucky asks him to talk. That is never good. "Sure, whenever you want," he replies even as a pit is opening up in his stomach.
Tony glances between Steve and Bucky, the latter getting a flat and unfriendly look. Bucky's probably lucky Tony's got futuristic guns to distract him. He goes back to inspecting them. "You destroyed the control chips? That's a shame. You sure you don't have one kicking around? I'd like to take a look at it. Of course I'm going to need to take a closer look at all of this."
"Can you make the inquiries? It is always harder when I do." Police officers ask questions. Diana has few answers they like to hear. It's the problem of being a semi-mythical person. She squares her shoulders a little and then tries to push away her unease in the presence of the guns. "You may be right. We can do our best to find out more about this. Are you somewhere safe? Is there anyone else after you?"
"Mister Stark, your money comes from weapons manufacturing." Hope gives Tony a look. He's probably used to that look from at least one redhead. It's the 'I see through your crap' look. "No, I don't have any chips kicking around. I don't think you'd have the tech manufacture them anyhow, but I'm not going back to a future where suddenly everyone and their mom has subdermal laser gun implants or something."
Turning back to Diana, she shakes her head. "There shouldn't be anyone else after me. For now. That I know of. No one should be looking for me in this time. Which is good and bad, I guess? At least if someone was looking for me there'd be a chance of getting a ride back."
Bucky all but hunches in on himself. Tony's look doesn't got unnoted….and then Steve's got that look. Buck, in turn, looks utterly guilty. Even though Matvei and the hundred and one other Buckies aren't his fault. He didn't have the bastards the usual way, after all.
"Of course," Steve says to Diana with a nod. "I'll actually go make that phone call right now." To Bucky he turns, "We'll catch up in a bit, here." And, finally, he looks to hope and gives her a weary half smile. He wishes he would have believed her right away. "If anyone can help you, it's Tony." He turns his foot and walks down the hall toward the communal phone to talk to one of the police officer friends he has with the NYPD.
Tony's brow knits. He's not fond of that look, and he's getting too used to seeing it on redheads. "You could go back to a future of peace and prosperity," he points out. "Besides, I do more than weapons manufacture. I'm branching out." Then Steve says he's the one that can help her. He gives Captain America a dire look. "I think we can all do a little caretaking," he says. Let Steve and Diana handle the emotions. He'll handle the guns. But, since Steve put this on him, he tells Hope, "You can stay here if you need to, at least for the night. If you need a place."
Diana rests her hands briefly upon her hips while caught up in the job of thinking. "Tony." It's a word of warning at that look she can, and does, interpret properly. "I agree, you can stay here in a room as you need, Miss Summers. Not because you bring interesting weapons and possibilities for Mr. Stark to crunch over. Because it is the right thing to do until everything gets straightened out."
"I…thanks," Hope nods to the offer of a place to stay after a moment of hesitation. It beats trying to get to and from Westchester, at least. And she can keep an eye on the tech. And maybe help figure out what's needed. Belatedly, she offers Diana back her unused handkerchief and turns a faint smile on Bucky. "Sorry. You came to talk to Captain America too, didn't you? I'm Hope," she introduces herself, offering a hand.
Now is apparently not the time. And with Mr. Stark in residence….time to exit, state right. He's finished his glass of water, and now Bucky's setting it back at the sink before more or less trying to sidle off. Ostensibly to find Steve, but really….to take the back way out. Hope, however, gets him. Gently, he takes her hand, shakes it - with the right, of course. "I'm James," he says, quietly. "And yeah, I did. It can wait, though. You're in good hands here."
Tony shoots Diana a look in turn. What, him? He's the good guy here! To prove the point, he returns the gun to the bag and tells Hope, "Why don't you get some rest, and we'll talk later. I want to hear about the time travel tech. If it can work, and that's a big if, you might be around here for awhile. Just a fair warning." He gives Bucky some side-eye, wary as he shakes Hope's hand. Trust James? Why no, he doesn't. "Yeah, you're in better hands here than you would be anywhere else," he says to Hope.
Taking the handkerchief, Diana folds the cloth in half and tucks it back into her pocket. "There are several rooms set aside for visitors and others. I can show you where they are and you can take your pick among them. The other essentials, you can ask Tony for, I imagine." You're on the spot, Stark. "He probably knows the best places for shoes, clothes, and everything practical. Or you can take a chamber near mine if you're not comfortable being in the guest wing." The offers are tendered with a warm smile and the tilt of her head, measuring up James in his effort to run right out the other side of the building. "I'm sure he will see you as soon as he can. It's good to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, James," Hope smiles faintly. "And, uh, yeah. Good people." Although it does sound like she still has some reservations. She's just not ready to get into those yet. "If we had some that was broken, I could fix it with the right parts. So, yeah," she sighs to Tony. "Probably going to take some time. And you've got, you know, your own life. But if you could help, that would be…It's important. They need me back there."
With perfectly good reason, considering the things the Winter Soldier did to Stark's property. "A pleasure, ma'am," Bucky says. His smile is a little shaky. "Uh, I'm just gonna go find Steve, if you guys will excuse me."
Tony grunts at James. Yeah, you go do that, his look says. With a shrug to Hope, he says, "I can carve out some time." To get his hands on future tech that no one else in this timeline even knows about yet. What a guy. "When you're ready. These fine folks know how to get in touch with me." Diana gets a sterling smile. See? He's being good.
Be good. Be very good since that golden rope is always somewhere, even if it's well-hidden. Diana can conceal swords in ballgowns — thin ones at that! Might as well take advantage of the fashionable styles now. "Good."
"Did he call me ma'am?" Hope looks after Bucky for a moment, perplexed. "Ma'am." That just ain't right. "How can you not like someone who calls an urchin bearing crazy talk and disabled future weapons 'ma'am'?" she asks Tony, pointing a thumb back at Bucky. Apparently she's picked up on a few things already.
Tony says blandly, "He was mean to another redhead I know." Understatement? Understatement. Retreating James gets another look, then he shrugs and says, "All right, Little Orphan Annie, go with Diana, she'll find you a room" He finishes his drink and sets the glass aside. "I'm out of here." He heads for the stairs leading back to the lab. He's done here.