capeandcowllogs | I get a good feeling, yeah

Entry tags:

I get a good feeling, yeah

WHO:

hacktivist
WHERE: Tony's Penthouse.
WHEN: Wednesday Feb 01, late at night.
WARNINGS: N/A
SUMMARY: A friend is one who has the same enemies as you have.
FORMAT: Para to start!

After a short internal debate, Ghost decided there was no way he was going to Midnighter with this problem, and losing whatever credibility he'd built up with him. That left precious few options, all discarded until the only viable solution appeared to be... Tony Stark.

Over his relatively short tenure at the Raft, Ghost had learned he couldn't always rely on the notion that people were as he perceived them. Walker had surprised him. Stark himself had surprised him.

When he passed through the window into the penthouse proper, he landed lightly, making no attempt to conceal himself from security measures. He was here to be detected, for a change.

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Tony had been trying to get some sleep, or the closest thing to sleep that a half human, half-nanited human could get. That was until his eyes laced through his penthouse picked up on something, no, someone.

A particular someone. Ghost. They'd spoken at the porter room, but it hadn't been anything particularly damning. This though, something was up. Not only was Ghost here, but he came corporeal. That was important. He'd slipped on a bathrobe, and stepped out silently, as not to disturb his bed partner.

"Ghost," he hedged, stepping deeper into the room. "Is this a social call? This late?"

"It is not an emergency, Anthony. At least not an immediate one." But he hadn't wanted to talk about it amid all the other imPorts.

"I believe I know why the Network 1.0 went down." His reluctance was obvious, but he wasn't arrogant enough to think he could do this alone. "

Several days ago, Candy requested I grant her access to the Network's root functions. ...I did so. And you know what happened shortly thereafter.

"

He's obviously been trying to figure out exactly whose agenda taking down the Network serves. And he doesn't like the answers.

"They couldn't have paid her off. She's not the type--she would never accept their money after they desecrated her dream."

Though he's not asking for it openly, his body language is edging on the side of tormented, anxious, wringing gloved hands and looking around much more than is necessary to verify an empty room but for the two of them.

Mistakes are something Tony knows far too much about, especially when at the beckoning of a pretty woman. This wasn't his first thought, of course, his first thought was one of almost pure annoyance and, yes, even anger. But the thought that he'd done far worse, his brain already going down several paths. It was hard to get furious, when moments after the data comes in, there are all the possibilities and life experiences flashing through one's mind.

So he was silent. He couldn't help his arms crossing, a physical motion before he'd even realized his train of thought, but it was of little consequence. He was quiet for a long time, a grimace belying the thought process that was running through his brain.

He'd fucked with the root functions. Of all the things. "So you gave an outsider access to the network," he finally verbalized. He'd never actually liked that there was this kind of communication divide, but it was never too difficult to get around, but this?

"Who knew that this happened? What did she do in there?"

The soft burst of breath from the mask came before any words, hands forming delicate, harmless fists and then splaying back out at his sides.

"

I am confident it was her and I alone, up until the point that the comms died, whereupon I assume Lachesis registered compromise to their integrity that she was unwilling to ignore.

"

Agonized. Just. Actually pacing a little and not even above the floor, gesticulations this side of frantic as his mind races ahead of what he wants to believe, to the conclusion inevitable.

"I don't know what she did."

"She could have even just stayed too long in one place, and someone was watching," he mentioned, the pacing making him nervous. It was futile, probably. He hadn't spoken much to Candy Deconnick, not because he was wasn't interested, but because creating superhumans was something he knew well too much. He'd seen Maya try it, and what it had done to her.

Deconnick was just like her. Hauntingly so.

"I doubt the porter will allow us to look. There's a number of things she could have taken offense to. Lachesis isn't exactly always rational, either."

Never rational, actually.

"Possibly. I should speak with her." But. But but but, the infernal but. Half of what he was thinking he wasn't saying.

The notion of Lachesis expressing a human annoyance, perhaps, at the intrusion alone, and cutting off access for that reason, crossed his mind as not unpleasant, but...

"Something feels wrong." It was impatient now. He hated this, things that couldn't be solved with logic, things made of feelings that were inside him and defied him and skewed the actions of others just slightly enough to render them less predictable. "Why did she require access to begin with? She is a geneticist, not--"

Trust. Paranoia. Trusting paranoia. Ghost of all people.

"We must find her."

"You're questioning now why she wanted access?" he asked. Of course, hindsight is 20/20, and sometimes... well. Women. Even if he didn't think Ghost was interested in that particular, but the sentiment, that he'd done something for someone and been burned?

Yeah, that was familiar. The fact that he was in his living room, with the hazy lights of the City below, filtered through glass windows, nervously pacing, not even intangible, he'd been waiting for him corporeally. Little details. Little things added up.

"Where is she? Do you know? Did you have a way of tracking her network presence when she did get the root codes?" Anything? Bueller? The questions spoke to Tony's level of need for control. Every piece should play out the way he intended, or it would fall apart. Even control like that was wont to do.

Typical Tony, to waltz in and want to lay hands on the situation, take control of it, dominate it. Typical businessman. Typical... but different.

His aim was to help, the idea that it hurt only reinforced Ghost's suspicion that he deserved it this time.

"A loan of your tracking equipment would be beneficial."

"You're going to look for her?" he asked, but he shifted. A door opened in the hallway. "There's a lot of options to track her, you know. Do you have a starting location?"

He was starting to move. Already heading further into the penthouse, to the elevators. He indicated that Ghost should follow.

"I want to confront her alone." This as a response to the 'starting location' part, and a bit of a gamble. He had to judge correctly how much he could give Tony, in order to receive what he desired, and 'compromise' was not something Ghost was suited to doing with Tony. He had very little practice.

He did follow, though, drifting after, "I can promise you if my suspicions are correct we both will benefit."

He tipped a head back, a quirk of his eyebrow. "This sounds bad," was all he could say as the door to the elevator opened, and he stepped inside. "We're heading to the basement," he mentioned. "I keep all of my equipment there. It doesn't do to have a party with socialites and something with technology all in the same place, if you know what I mean," he mentioned.

And he waited for Ghost, if he was going to ride the elevator, or if he was going to just float down through the rest of the layers of the building.

"Yes." Parties. Ghost adjusts a glove a little, his nervous disposition relaxing by degrees. The agitation is burning itself down to a low, more familiar ebb. "You might confuse them."

Ghost slipped into the elevator, running a hand along the side of it, stroking, almost caressing the wall, then staring intently at it for several seconds. Then he glances back at Tony.

"...Your help is appreciated."

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I get a good feeling, yeah

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