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In the kitchen, with its modernized linoleum and chrome, stands Tony, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He bears the trappings of another long night in the lab. His hair is mussed, his eyes are tired, and his clothing is casual: a pullover and jeans. The blue disc of his arc reactor can be seen through the cloth. He usually tries to hide it in public, at least. There's an empty scotch bottle beside the sink.
The scent is coffee is siren-like to Steve this afternoon. His was a long night, but not due to tinkering; no, due to eidetic memory and the joyous string of nightmares always culminating in flailed grasping at thin air and the crush of failure closing on his lungs to force him awake with a muted shout. The serum takes away the worst of it, but still, tiredness lingers. He wanders into the kitchen at the mansion wearing grey sweatpants and a black long-sleeved shirt.
"Hey Tony," he says quietly by way of greeting as he wanders over to the cupboards to fish out his own mug.
Tony steps aside from the plot. He doesn't make his coffee quite as strong as Steve does, but it's not a weak cup by any stretch. He needs to keep himself awake for those long nights in the lab. "Rogers," he says. Then he spies the empty scotch bottle and his eyes narrow. Then he sighs and goes to put it in the trash.
With the opening of the cupboard door blocking his view, Steve isn't privy to the removal of the scotch bottle from the countertop. It's when he glances over after closing the panel with a quiet thump that he watches. A side-step over to the carafe and out of the corner of his eye, in silence, he weighs what he sees against what he's spoken to Tony about before: actions are more important than words.
"Late night?" It seems the safe topic and coffee is for those who need a jumpstart, if you will. Caramel reflections swirl in his mug as he pours his share.
"Yeah," Tony says. "Or early morning, take your pick." He jerks a thumb toward the trash and adds quickly. "That wasn't me. That was Santa's Helper." He leans against the counter heavily and rubs his eyes. Then he takes a drink of the rich, black coffee. Mmm, deliciously bitter.
"I've got Parker working with me on the skin project. I still don't know how we're going to adhere it to Barnes' arm, but we're sorting it out. This kid. If he figures out what it is he's trying to do, it's going to revolutionize combat medicine."
Johnny drives up and parks at the mansion, in one of his random red sports cars— and no one should think any less of the Human Torch for liking red cards— and then slips out and nods over to Mike. "Sorry, this has been a long time coming. Been preoccupied." He leads Mike to the Mansion, uses his key, and calls out when he enters, "Guys?" He's dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark blue t-shirt.
Mike Matthews follows along after Johnny, taking a look around as they enter, his hands in his pockets, similarly dressed in a pair of jeans, though he has on a pale green button-down over a plain white t-shirt. He chuckles and says to Johnny, "I figured we'd get around to it when you had some time." He doesn't seem particularly worried about it.
Steve nods even as he sips at his coffee. Mmm, scalding hot and as dark as can be managed. It might strip paint if left standing upon the wall. Huzzah for super-soldier healing! His stomach eternally thanks him.
"I look forwards to seeing what he can come up with. I'm sure Buck is grateful for the time and effort you've been putting in to this project. Lots of veterans are going to be more grateful still, once you've finished it." This, he can stand behind.
The sound of a voice out in the foyer makes the Captain look in that direction and then back to Tony. "Are we expecting trouble?" He asks this mildly of the genius-inventor even as he begins to walk towards the foyer proper, exiting the kitchen in the process.
Tony inclines his head to Steve and raises his cup. "I'm phasing out of weapons production," he says. "Barnes doesn't agree with it, but I'll still do R&D. I just figured it'd be better to put resources toward building better things for people here at home."
To the question of trouble, he replies, "Usually." Then he sees who it is. "Hey, it's Zippo and…" He shakes his head. Never seen this Mike guy before. "You brought a friend." He holds his coffee cup casually at an angle where it's hard to see the glowing blue disc through his shirt.
Leading Mike along, Johnny flashes him a grin. Once they all get to the foyer, and hearing Tony's nickname? He smirks and can't help but roll his eyes, "Guys, this is Mike Matthews, though that's an alias. He's something of an alien refugee, and since this world is his home now, he's interested in joining up. I'll let him explain as much as he wants, but for the record, I trust him to have my back without hesitation. Mike, this is Tony and Steve." He glances around, lifts a hand up in a 'sec', and heads into the kitchen, abandoning poor Mike to the predators.
In his black long-sleeved shirt (that fits rather well), grey sweatpants, and sneakers, it's clear that Steve Rogers wasn't expecting guests — rather, he was expecting to slip off to the gym and work out residual adrenaline. Still, he walks into the foyer with the usual sense of presence, even lacking the spangled suit, and gives Johnny a smile.
"Johnny," he says by way of greeting, glancing at Tony as if to imply, 'nicknames are silly'. His wheat-gold brows lift as the stranger is introduced and summarily ditched. Again, he looks to Tony. "Alien refugee. I don't believe I told about meeting Captain Noh-Varr. I owe you that story." Blue eyes slide back to Mike and he smiles again, all manners and mild earnest cheer. "Nice to meet you, Mike. I'm Steve Rogers." His free hand is offered out for a shake.
Tony shoots a glance back at Steve. What. He looks Mike over, not even bothering to hide just how deep the scrutiny is. "I don't see any pointy ears. Good to meet you." He waits his turn to offer a hand to shake. He asides to Steve, "You'll have to tell me all about it. He's an interesting guy."
Johnny returns with a pair of beers; he always keeps beer and expensive bourbon in the mansion. He offers one over to Mike, then turns to regard Tony and Steve, "He's been on a mission or three with me since he's been in town, and has proven himself useful. Strong, fast, and harder to hurt as me." That Johnny is super durable (and that this seems to have nothing to do with fire) is a big What? question for everyone who is familiar with his abilities. "And reliable."
Mike Matthews is abandoned, but that is okay. He doesn't seem to mind. He's got a friendly enough smile and looks remarkably human for an alien, but then, there are others who are just as much so as he. "Oh, we've met Noh-Varr," he chuckles when Steve mentions him. There's a bit of an amused smile after Johnny as he wanders off at the mention of the illustrious Dude of the Kree Diplomatic Gestalt. He takes the hand that Steve offers and gives it a friendly shake. "Nice to meet you, Steve." He then looks over to Tony and says, "Nope, no pointy ears." He reaches out and shakes Tony's hand in greeting as well. "My name is Mon-El, Prince of Daxam, a planet that has been, to my knowledge, destroyed. During the evacuation my pod ended up drifting, and eventually crashing here, in Upstate New York, making this my new place of residence."
Steve gives the hand a firm but friendly shake before looking Mon-El over. "You picked an interesting place to land. I hope you haven't had any trouble since then. New Yorkers can be cantankerous sometimes." His grin is slightly crooked for just a second and then settles into a more neutral cast. "Do you go by your name alone or do you have a title, considering you're royalty?"
"Prince," Tony says. "Huh. Sorry to hear about your home planet. Good to meet you, though." He leaves the matter of titles to Steve. "I'll level with you, we can always use another good guy fighting the good fight, doesn't matter where he's from."
"Apparently our sun gives his people super powers." explains Johnny with a casual nod, going over to lean by a wall, and tilt back his beer, "And he's invested in not losing a second planet. I thought that was an excellent motivation for joining up with the Avengers. What are you gents up to?"
"I didn't exactly pick. I was in stasis at the time. I only came to after the crash," Mike admits and then he grins at the question. "Just Mike is fine. The title is really mostly irrelevant here, save for interacting with other aliens like Noh-Varr who might have knowledge of my home planet or people." There's a nod given to Tony, a little more sober. "I've been here for a little over a year now, and I had some time to acclimate a bit before I came to the city. I admit, there's still a lot that I don't know.. but I'm enjoying learning." He then says to Tony, "I've been helping Johnny where I can, and the Four. This is my home too, now. I feel better being able to use some of the abilities I have on this planet to help protect it." He then nods to what Johnny says in agreement.
"Mike then. As Tony said, we can always use more hands on deck when trouble starts brewing. I trust you'll bring your best to the table and to the team," Steve replies, looking between Johnny and Tony and back to Mon-El. "I was off to the gym myself. The itch to punch a bag is something that needs to be scratched." He takes a huge swig of his coffee.
"Speaking of working out, Barnes said I should suit up and you and I should spar, Cap." Tony takes a drink of his coffee, then asks Mike, "You want some? There's a fresh pot. I assume you've caught on about coffee by now. The mugs are right there." He gestures with his cup to a cupboard. "So what can you do, if you don't mind my asking?" Johnny's comment about Earth's sun and Mike's powers doesn't go unnoticed. He gives Johnny a look. There's going to be a conversation about that later, if he has his way.
"Wait." Johnny looks between Tony and Cap, "Spar. Iron Man vs Captain America? Guys, guys, guys. I could sell tickets. I know people, publicists, could make a whole show out of it. Make you famous." Pause, "—er." He nods over toMike, but lets him explain his powers. He tilts his beer back and has a drink, "I can respect the bag punching, Steve. Prefer boxing though."
Mike Matthews glances between Tony and Steve and then over at Johnny as he suddenly wants to create a spectacle of it, chuckling just a little bit. When asked about his powers though he says, "I heal very quickly, and am stronger, faster, and more resilient than most. Conventional weapons can't pierce my skin, and I can jump to the top of one of those downtown skyscrapers. I can also absorb electrical energy and use it to regenerate, or as a power source."
"I'll consider it, Tony." That's all Steve has to say in regards to sparring, especially in terms of public spectacles. "A few of those bags have my name on it. I'd rather not lay out anyone unprepared. Gentlemen," and he lifts his coffee cup by way of departing salute before turning and making his way off to one the side halls, where a stairwell leads to the solemn quiet of a gym behind chain-link fencing and the eventual repetitious sound of wrapped knuckles pounding away at burlap.
Tony tells Johnny, "I'm all for it." Of course Tony Stark loves spectacle, especially if he's at the center of it. He nods toward the kitchen and heads back into it so he can refill his coffee cup. "You probably already know everything you need to know about me," he says. "I built the suit, I wear the suit. I make cool toys. That's about it."
"I've seen you on television, yes," Mike says when Tony mentions himself. He's seen a few of them on television during his time in the city. Then he recalls the beer that Johnny brought out for him and he tips it back, taking a swallow from it. "You make quite a lot of interesting things given the level of your technology here on Earth."
"We haven't fully quantified his limits— mostly because Reed is out of the country— but they're high." Johnny nods to Mike then, sipping his beer some more. 'Quantifying limits' is something the Four are big on. "He's more or less immune to at least moderate amounts of fire, but for obvious reasons we haven't tested anything extreme." He nods to Mike, "Mike, here, makes the best drinks in this galaxy, Tony. You would approve." He looks to Mike, "Tony is what we, on earth, call a functional alcoholic." Then again, so is Johnny.
Tony glances over his shoulder, perking up at the mention of the best drinks. "Hey, now. I'm cutting back. Captain Puritan is rubbing off on me." He does seem sober, if beleaguered. "That said, I'll be the judge of these drinks." He flashes them both a lightning-quick smile. He leans against the counter, coffee cup in hand. "Right now I'm working on prosthetics. We've got enough ways to kill each other, I figured we could start working out how to fix what we've broken."
"Daxam was a very celebratory society? We enjoyed our indulgences of all kinds. Mixing drinks was one of the things that I enjoyed during the parties that we had back home. It became sort of a hobby. I found that it translated well to bartending here on Earth, though it took me a while to learn what ingredients you have to work with here," Mike chuckles. "We'll have drinks sometime soon." He then nods at the mention of the prosthetics, "That sounds like a worthy cause."
Johnny gives Tony a sympathetic look, shaking his head, "Well that does sound like a right terrible idea to me. Throw a party, Stark. Invite me. Me and you in the same social event will have a Notoriety score of like, 20, and we can get wasted. I've been telling Mike here about what 'Puritans' are and why our world is so screwed up. I like the way he talks of his world better, frankly." He then sobers up and nods, "Prosthetics are a good idea. Especially with the war ramping up. You'd think, hey alien invaders, would stop human on human stupid, but nope." Johnny tilts his beer back and guzzles it down to nothing.
Tony fingerguns at Johnny. "Consider it done. It's about time the company did a benefit for charity." An excuse to look good and get drunk doing it. He then says to Mike, "A bartender? A man after my own heart. I dabble, but I wouldn't say it's my forte. You'll have to show me some tricks." The blue glow beneath his shirt thrums along rhythmically. He's stopped trying ot hide it. "I'm not sure the company will survive this swords-to-plowshare initiative, but it feels right. We'll figure something out."
"Happy to," Mike says when Tony mentions his dabbling. "I'll show you how to make a few that I've made up since being here that people tend to like." He then says, "Though I'm not bartending the party. I want to actually go to one of these parties where I'm not working." He takes another swallow of his beer then and grins over at Johnny.
Johnny's eyes fall to the blue glow of the arc reactor for a moment, and he shakes his head; he has no real understanding of that level of physics. That's not to say Johnny's dumb, he's got a degree in mechanical engineering actually. But particle physics are something else. "Someone makes money making plows, Stark. Hell, the Future Foundation doesn't even make anything at all. Reed invents, patents, we license to other people to make. That keeps the lights on for us." He grins over at Mike, "Oh for sure, you're not working it. You're on the team now. We just need a codename for you. Captain America, Iron Man, the Human Torch… the Man of Steel? Naw, something not quite right about that."
Tony echoes Johnny, more or less. "You're not going to work the party, man. You're running with the big dogs, now. We'll get you in a nice suit and introduce you as New York's latest toast of the town." He nods to Johnny. "Sure, sure. I probably won't stop weapons research, there is the oxymoron of making them safer to consider. And I like to think the old man wouldn't be turning in his grave if my contracts switched over to medical. It just means i'm going to have to meet a few biologists." He sniffs ever so slightly. Biologists. Try studying a real science, losers.
"Do I need a code name? I mean, Mike Matthews isn't even my real name.." Mike points out. He then glances over and says, "And everyone knows that he is Tony Stark.." He then says, "Isn't Mike my codename?" Because: Iron Man, Captain America, The Human Torch, and .. Mike… sounds okay, it doesn't have that particular je ne sais quois. Then he says, "I do have a couple of suits." For those various fancy functions he's been bartending, after all.
"A codename isn't about secrecy, not for everyone. For some, sure. The kid." Johnny means Peter, of course. "Everyone knows I'm Johnny Storm, and the Human Torch. But the Human Torch is a _brand_, I can not tell you the importance of _brand_, Mike. Some things I do, I'm Johnny. Some things I do, I'm the Torch. Little boys want to grow up and be the Torch someday; parents want ever so desperately for their little boys to never grow up to be Johnny Storm. First, this whole, you're an alien thing? We should keep quiet, because it'll just complicate your life. You're Mike Matthews, as a human. You're Mon-El to me, of course. Its just something to think about. If you _don't_ want to do one you don't _have_ to. But it helps to keep perspective." He looks to Tony and nods, "Well, the whole weapons stuff… its written into the Foundations charter we don't do that, so you have that market set. If you were to focus on non-lethal weaponry, well, perhaps I could talk the Board into investing into Stark Industries a touch."
Tony gestures to Johnny. "What he said. It's about branding. When I'm Tony Stark, my feet are planted on the Earth. I'm a real guy. Sure, I'm famous, rich, and one of the world's most innovative minds of this century, but I'm a person you might meet on the street. Though that's unlikely. I drive spectacularly fast." He takes a sip, then another as his hot coffee has finally cooled to 'drinkable.' "When I'm Iron Man, I'm the suit. Tony Stark doesn't fly into the sky punching alien spaceships, but Iron Man does." He snaps his fingers and points at Johnny. "Non-lethal weaponry. The government will hate it. I love it."
"Alright, but I don't like the Man of Steel. I'm not really made of metal, and it's too close to Iron Man." He looks over toward Tony and says, "Wouldn't want to step on your.. brand." He still doesn't quite get marketing and branding. He'll figure it out eventually. "I would say Prince of Daxam, but then, I'm not supposed to say that I'm an alien. Maybe… The Bartender." He smirks just a little bit. This whole codename business is difficult.
"Let me think on it. I mean, hey, Ben is The Thing, so its not like the Four are master marketers." Johnny chuckles, then goes and tosses his empty beer bottle in the trash, and turns around, "But the thing is, you're not really made of metal, but you almost may as well be. In strength, durability." he hesitates, "It might not be a bad thing to be Prince of Daxam— if you had a mask of somekind. Doesn't have to be a big one. Just enough so you could separate Mike from Prince. Its okay to have an alien ally on the Avengers, but the thing is… when you do gigs, the Alien Bartender who Moonlights as an Avenger? Might be a distraction." He turns a grin over to Tony, "And we care very much about the governments opinions, since the Avengers have no sanction?"
"We can refer to you as Your Royal Highness," Tony suggests. "In that I am absolutely going to refer to you as Your Royal Highness. Hmm, maybe we could call you The Daxamian. There's something dramatic about it." He takes another drink of coffee with the fervor of one who has been awake far, far too long. "I care about the government's opinion while they're paying me lots of money to make weapons. We may not agree on much anymore, but their money spends."
Mike Matthews continues to nurse his beer, taking a swallow from it every so often. He chuckles just a bit and says, "I suppose that I could get a mask.. and some sort of a suit so that I'm not showing up in jeans and a t-shirt while everyone else is looking like they came prepared." He tips his bottle in Tony's direction and says, "Daxamite. That's.. the term we'd use to mean from Daxam."
"The Daxamite would work." Johnny nods slowly, thoughtfully, "No one knows what it means, but what's it matter? The point is the separation. Let you live some semblance of a real life. Trust me." Johnny nods to Mike seriously, "Having a complete connection between yuor Avenger persona and your Human persona? It works for me only because my human persona focused on fame. Tony here is in a similar position. Now, if you _want_ that, if its of interest for you to go that way, to be Mike Matthews, the Avenger, and novelty bartender?" Johnny laughs, "All power to you, I support you completely. But choose carefully. I didn't actually have a choice. I'd probably choose the life I have now, with my two sides linked. But you are in a position where you can choose different."
"Daxamite sounds like a mineral," Tony says. "But I doubt that'll be lost on people." The Daxamite gets his grudging approval. "Look at it this way, you get set up with a separate life? You can always expose yourself if you feel like that's the way you want to play it." Says Mr. 'I am Iron Man.' "But once that cat's out of the bag, there's no getting it back in."
"I'm not particularly looking for fame," Mike admits with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I've had plenty of that, and while I don't mind living in the public eye — I've done it most of my life — I also don't mind living as I have been, as just Mike Matthews." He seems to consider for a while and says, "I don't know as I'm fond of calling myself The Daxamite. I mean, it's not inaccurate but it does sort of remind me that I'm the only one, at least, the only one that I know of. We'll think of something." He then finishes off the remainder of his beer. "I'll keep things separate for now."
"Iron Man." Johnny grins to Tony, nodding to his teammate, "That's half a mineral. So what if its Daxamite?" He turns to look to Mike, "That's fair. Daxamite, without the the?" he asks questioningly.
Tony grins. "That's right, don't horn in on my racket." Then he nods to Mike. "Understandable. It'll come together. Maybe the press will name you. That usually takes care of the problem." He finishes his coffee and takes the coffee to the dishwasher. "I'd better get back to work, or pass out, or something. Always good to see you, Zippo. Mike? It's a pleasure."
"It was a pleasure to meet you, too," Mike says to Tony as the man moves to depart. Then he turns back toward Johnny and says, "That seemed to go well."