|
   |
Tony has closed up his lab for the night to employees and whatnot. It's just him and whoever else he invites. In this case, Peter. There's a new shipment of possibly fun chemicals for Peter to play with, a gift from Tony with the excuse of 'here, build me something interesting.' As for Tony himself, he's got his own goodies, foremost paladium. He's got safety goggles on as he melts some of it in a crucible. "So when the lady asked me how much I wanted, I said one of everything." He nods toward the fun new chemicals laid out to play with. "I figured you'd find something you like." It does not suck to be the guy with all the money.
Peter, in a lab coat and with safety goggles hanging around his neck, is fiddling with one of his webshooters. It doesn't look like much, this long slender metal thing with some intricate little details, with a ring towards the end. He's got a very little screwdriver and he's biting on his lower lip, but then, 'one of everything'? The kid perks up, and goes over to shipments and starts looking through them, "Oh, this would be a useful catalyst, and this—"
Thank goodness it's after hours. Perhaps the Sorcerer took that into account. DNRs are such a task to keep track of, and surely someone's gone about telling others that a guy just rose through the Stark Industries laboratory's floor like some spectre from beyond the grave. No one believes them, like as not, and thus, the propensity of society in large to disbelieve in magic keeps secrets all the safer.
Not through the floor this time, but into the empty spacing before and beyond both inventors, hard at their work — this is where the Gate begins to flicker into being. Clockwise at an impossible speed, the circular break in reality expands out and who should walk through but Strange himself. He wears his Master-blues and fusses at one of his wrist wraps even as he strides into the laboratory with his usual brash confidence.
"And what are we working on this evening, gentlemen?" he asks in honest interest, his bright eyes flicking from crucible to itemized shipment and from face to face in turn.
Tony glances up as the sparks come into being, and he goes back to watching his palladium melt. "Incoming," he tells Peter. The eruption of a hole in space inside his laboratory doesn't seem to trouble him much. So far, there's only one person he knows of who can do that, and he's on the approved drop-in list.
"I'm making a new arc reactor for my heart," he says. Palladium is light, it's easy to work with, it doesn't oxidize as much as other metals. It's super rare and costs an arm and a leg, but of course Tony's got some. He's also at a critical point where it needs to be poured into a mold, which means taking his eye off Peter for just one second.
Incoming? Incoming DANGER? Peter has reflexes and speed that would make any Olympian athlete jealous, so he's in motion grabbing his webshooter and spinning around. A capsule of liquid web shoots out towards Doctor Strange before it registers that it is Doctor Strange. The webbing expands out to impact him and seal him against the nearest wall.
Pause.
"Doctor Strange?" squeaks Peter.
Something metal goes clanging about on the floor as long limbs are set to momentary extension in mid-flight — hopefully nothing precious — and then there's the Sorcerer Supreme, hung about three feet from the ground by a clever concoction terribly akin to spider-webbing itself. A cough from him, a deep and rough sound from his chest, and then a little shake of his head.
"Gods below," he says before huffing again, as if he barely refrained from having the wind knocked from him. He flexes biceps and thighs before giving Peter a rather flat look. "Mister Parker, honestly." At least he can wiggle fingers and this he does. Flecks of light gathering about them slowly but surely, more deliberate than motes of dust in a beam of sunlight.
Tony looks up. "Oh gosh," he says, "Bad intern." Deadpan. Peter will receive his high-five later. "You should probably let him down." He checks on his palladium. It's in the mold, doing its thing, so he steps away from the work bench, brushing his hands off on his jeans as he approaches the suspended Strange. "You two know each other? Good, that saves an introduction. You know, this isn't a terrible look for you, Strange."
"There was an evil goat." This is Peter's explanation for them knowing eachother, "I tried to save Doctor Strange from the evil goat, while Doctor Strange tried to save me from the evil goat. Eventually we stopped yelling at eachother to run away, worked together, and he made the evil goat go poof. Sorry, meant to tell you about that. The skin project distracted me." He quickly pads over to Strange, and says in a voice he hopes sounds contrite and meek, "Sorry, Doctor Strange." He reaches out to snag web threads and tug on them, they come away with ease before his strength. He has no idea what's going on with the shiny lights around Strange's fingers. He's a spider of SCIENCE. Er. A man of science. Okay, a kid of science.
Tony gets that gimlet look turned on him in turn. "Amusing, Stark, truly. If I wanted to hang from a wall, I'd try my luck else-dimension." One arm is freed after Peter works at removing the strong thread and he plucks testingly at one that crisscrosses his body, holding his torso firmly to the wall. Only thickly-woven fabric in storm-blue keeps his vertebrae from grinding against sterile chrome.
"But yes, Peter and I have met before. It was a demon donkey," he corrects, waiting patiently for more of his person to be liberated. The small twinkles about his scarred fingers had disappeared; no need for the Flames of Faltine after all, and for the better, perhaps. Who knows what fire-deterrent systems are installed about the lab? "An unfortunate interloper. I think I know how it felt now, in a way." Once the final thread is removed, he lands on booted feet rather lightly for his size and adjusts the rucked-up undershirt beneath his tunic with a mutter.
"But these walls are exemplary," Tony says. He spreads his arms to gesture to the lab around them. State of the art walls to hang from, truly. He picks up the metal bracing that Strange inadvertently knocked aside, and he puts it back where it belongs. "Demon donkey, evil goat." He does a little more tidying. He winks at Peter. Good intern. "You're here on a good night," Tony tells Strange. "We're just having a little fun. I got us a few goodies, just like Christmas in May. Is it still May?"
"Sorry." He nods to Doctor Strange, flushing slightly. Peter proceeds to gather up the remnant of the webbing, tosses it away, remarking as he does, "There's some diphulsphate which I think might make a good catalyst to create a variation on the webbing— to create a… web bomb. On impact instead of expanding out and carrying force to…uh." He sheepishly looks at Strange, coughing softly, "…it instead explodes in every direction sticking to and trapping anything within, oh, ten feet."
"It's still May." Strange continues rearranging sections of his clothing here and there, smoothing out wrinkles and even adjusting his belt lengths back to their even layering. "The phrase is 'Christmas in July', anyways."
He looks up at Peter and his foreboding expression softens in understanding. "That application of the chemical variance in the strands would be extremely effective in certain circumstances. However, I'm fine, Peter, have no fear. If a little webbing slowed me down, I would not be privy to the mantle that I bear." One last brush-off of the panel of tunic hanging over his right hip and it appears that the fastidious man is content. "But really now, I arrived to see what you were working on, Stark," and he gives the genius-inventor a searching look. "That Mister Parker is present is serendipitous in itself. Any progress on the skin project?"
"Then we'll have to get more goodies in July," Tony says. He then taps his chest. "I'm making a new arc reactor. I figure I can increase the power output to fuel a few more fun gadgets. It's time for an upgrade." He goes back over to his work station, where he's got parts spread out. Just… parts. Parts he knows what to do with.
"Good, do that," he tells Peter. Then, with a wave of his hand, he tells Strange "Skin project's all him. Give the kid a chemistry set and he'll build you all sorts of things."
"The biopolymer chains of the webbing already support built in state-transition technology which is… unique. I'm just building on that invention." Peter pads over towards the portion of the lab contains the equipment and supplies for his gear, at Strange's question. There he gestures to a spinner full of vials of an almost-skin colored fluid, spinning. "This is the final stage of production Mark I. If it spins for an hour and doesn't separate, then its ready to be poured into the extruder to create the Mark I Type A Skin. After that, its on to go full steam into Type B. Don't get me wrong, I think Type A is important, but B is what I'm really into." He looks back to Tony, nodding, "Will the old Arc Reactor… be used, for something, Mr. Stark?" Its always _Mr_ Stark and _Dr_ Strange. The kid is nothing but not respectful.
A nod to Tony, in acknowledgement of whom is precisely working on what, and then the tall man in blues follows and listens to Peter explain his work. The good Doctor is reminded of separating out blood samples in order to extract their various components. The flashback to medical school before his inner eye is brief but poignant, in a way, and he slowly straightens after his lean in to inspect the spinner more closely. On his face, a mindful smile.
"Fascinating," he murmurs, sounding almost surprised that he's impressed by the work. A glance over at the genius-inventor and then a turn in place to face the man; Strange's scarred hands rest behind his back in a vaguely militaristic stance. "Yes, what precisely is the application of this older model? It would seem a waste to toss it aside. It's no small feat of technology." A compliment from someone who once held the title of world's foremost neurosurgeon? Look at that.
Tony pauses. Hmm. No, the genius-inventor hadn't given much thought about what he'd do with the older model once done with it. It's an older model. Yesterday's news. "Huh." He glances to Peter. "Do you want it? I was just going to toss it." He takes up the casing for his future heart-magnet and inspects it. Always looking forward, never back.
Strange does get a crooked smile from Tony, though. Fine praise indeed.
"The Type B is actually a little easier to produce, as its requirements are different, and its much closer to web-fluid. It… I don't know." Peter hesitates a moment, confidence in his own knowledge and intelligence faltering a bit, "I think it might … matter. I think it might save a lot of lives." He looks to Tony then and blinks, "_Toss_it_?!" He is incredulous with this, "I have no idea what I'd use it for but certainly there's a useful application for that as a power source that doesn't need to be the next edition of the Suit. Mr. Stark! You can't just _toss_it_."
The Sorcerer turns his head back and forth almost as if watching a tennis match. His eyes end up resting on Tony once more and he walks over to stand behind the man. His height allows his easy viewing ability of this newer model, palladium and all.
"I agree with Peter. It shouldn't be dismantled or discarded simply because it is considered irrelevant. Besides…" And his thought pauses on an inhale. His dark brows knit. "…who is going to replace it within your chest, Stark? Do you have a surgical team available with the knowledge to safely replace it?"
Tony jerks a thumb toward Peter. "He's going to do it," he says. To Peter, he adds, "Relax, kid. It's just like changing a battery." The casing looks rather sleek, a nice cluster of metallic rings to make a cradle for the reactor. There are wires laying about, a soldering iron nearby, not currently on. Waiting for the palladium to cool has ground things to a brief halt.
Tony glances between the pair of them. "Fine, your new project," he tells Peter, "is to figure out something to use the old one for." Like his homework and the skin project isn't enough on his plate. Then, to Strange, "This kid is going to save a lot of lives with this stuff he's making."
Strange's question on who will replace it? Makes Peter turn a pale eye towards Tony and Tony's answer has him big-eyed and gaping, "Pff-f-" he sputters, shaking his head, "Look, Mr. Stark, I know I broke the IQ test .." Getting a perfect score doesn't _actually_ tell you a real score, just that you're somewhere at least one point higher then the test can test for. ".. but none of that includes medicine." But then, new project? He nods, "I'll think about it." he says solumnly. There's surely something to put the reactor to. Its not like he's not FANTASTICALLY BUSY or anything.
A scarred finger points at Peter and the good Doctor nods briskly. "Precisely," he agrees as to the deference. Indeed, the kid's a smart cookie, but not a learned member of a surgical team.
"I mean no disrespect, Mister Parker, but Stark should be in a medical suite when this occurs, not in the confines of a laboratory, and in more experienced hands. The cardiovascular system is nothing to tinker with. Despite any personal beliefs, you — " and now the finger points to Tony. " — are not immortal." His expression dares the genius-inventor to disagree with him.
Tony looks between the two as though they were a pair of nervous nellies. He taps his chest and says, "I installed this myself on the floor of a warehouse." He tries not to think about just how damn lucky he is he didn't get an infection or just outright die of blood loss or any number of things that could have gone wrong. If he gave it any serious consideration he'd sleep even less than he currently does.
After a moment's consideration, he tells Strange, "Fine, you can do it." He flashes him a smile. Who better than a doctor? "Anyway, let's burn thaet bridge when we get to it. I still need to invent it before we fight over who's installing it."
Peter eyes Tony a long moment, "And you didn't die of infection, miraculously. Look if you want an infusion of spider-blood, Mr. Stark, its yours, but I have no idea if that would be goor or bad, so don't suggest it. A sterile environment with actual people trained in medicine is just… you know.. practical." He flashes a grin, rises up and heads back over to check on his spinning fluids, pressing a button to stop. Each vial is checked in turn, "No separation, the compound is stable. Mark 1 will be extruded over the night."
Make that two sets of sharp eyes resting upon the genius-inventor. Strange has folded his arms at this point, at least happy to hear that common sense wins the day in the immediate future.
"Practical," he echoes rather laconically. "Yes, that's a word for it. If you wish to have me present at the procedure, Stark, let me know. I would be happy to consult. Otherwise," he continues, "I heavily suggest that you procure a team of the top surgeons at Presbyterian. You may enjoy risk, but one's life is nothing left to chance."
A sigh and he shakes his head, giving Tony another almost knowing little half-smirk. "I know you're not an idiot, Stark. Have a sense of self-preservation." He walks away across the laboratory again, eyeing the vial in Peter's hand in passing. "Good luck on your project, Peter. I look forwards to seeing what comes of it." A nod to each gentleman, and then a Gate out of the sterile environment and back to the Sanctum, full of shadows and secrets.