nonstopnarcissist | Mobile Suit Avengers

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Mobile Suit Avengers

He should've expected something like this sooner. Between Obie, the media, the overall political climate between various PMCs on earth and drifting around the colonies it really was only a matter of time before things came to a head and diplomatic overtures were abandoned entirely. He'd been ready to dig in with his father, build as much as he could to protect people, their people, but Howard had something else in mind.

Wouldn't be the first time he's pulled something like this on Tony, probably won't be the last, but ultimately he can't even be too upset.

Sure he'd rather be home in his own lab with his own music rattling through his bones as he cracks open all the vulnerabilities and coding backdoors of the ore common (most) models of mobile suits to help the Rhodey and the militia- but threats had been made, apparently.

Tony doesn't know, he hadn't quite been paying attention. It was at the tail end of a four day engineering bender that Howard took him by the shoulders, gave him a hug, and herded him into a transport. He passed out in the jump seat before he could really ask any questions, belongings and portable server packed in, ready and waiting. Apparently the last detail to be stowed was him.

Doesn't know where the station he'd been sent to was, doesn't know who's in charge, doesn't even particularly care. No one briefs him no one answers questions he doesn't ask because he's too busy reading the handwritten (sentimental of Howard) note explaining what his father wanted, needed, him to do. Considering how infrequently Howard asked him anything like this and he left Jarvis in his birdlike hover drone Tony made when he was twelve, he's not about to argue.

Keep his head down.

Build and innovate for people that can actually help.

Don't let them know he's a Stark. How long that's going to last he has no idea, but then Howard did his best to keep Tony away from the media unless he wanted to be seen and that wasn't ever his bag.

Walked to a worktable, given space to get to work, and a tablet on everyone he'll be working with. Steve Rogers, some sort of tactical genius, Thor- that's it, just Thor- prince or lord or some kind of space representative from the Aesir station, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton; scouts, Bruce Banner who he had heard of for his work in radiation shielding and rather insane proposals on how to convert ambient radiation into propulsion for Mobile Suits, and James Barnes- another scout of some kind. He, Shuri, and Bruce make up the engineering team- another name he's familiar with, someone he's shot ideas to back and forth over the net, and the rest are pilots for...some kind of project.

Face deep in the tablet with all the data he'll need to not look like an idiot child next to Shuri- he goes in search of Coffee, Jarvis perched on his shoulder, a silvery blue metallic bird perfectly still no matter how Tony moves.

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He's just started a fresh pot and is leaning against the counter, waiting, looking over the most recent mission brief. Solo recon. Warehouse out in Boston. Data recovery. It's something any of the three of them could do in their sleep, but someone's gotta do it anyway. Steve probably assigned it to him knowing it'd get done swiftly. Even when they'd been kids, Bucky hadn't been especially fond of letting things sit, ever a busy body. The main difference was that Steve was the one usually looking for fights instead.

He can smell grounds and hear the familiar gurgling- more than reason enough to find somewhere to post up and wait. There's a quick glance from his tablet up at... tall, brunette, built, somber- Barnes, before he hops onto the counter a respectful distance away, waiting. Keeping his head down will be easy, he doesn't look a thing like the calm, stylish couple his parents make in the media. Hair a riot, down to a thin black tank top and equally worn denim, grease still spotting his forearms and under his nails from his last project before he was shipped out.

When someone enters, he finishes up the last paragraph before sparing a glance. The pot continues bubbling away. Black tank. Spotted grease. Must be the new engineer. Antonio...something. Ferris? No. Something like that.

Young, regardless, hopping up on the counter like that without even washing his hands. Dressed casually, also. Well, there isn't really a uniform for the engineers anyway, so that's probably...fine. Hard to tell what's going on in that head, though. That'll take more time to read.

"What do you prefer to go by?" Easiest way to get a preferred name, like that.

He's in deep into the data on the tablet, only really reacting when the bird on his shoulder turns to tug on his ear with a metallic chirp, prompting a startled snort and wide, dark eyes to flick back up to-

"Oh. Um." Question. "Antonio, Tonio. 'Hey you' also works most of the time after I've had enough coffee to be human again."

When the only direct response seems to come from the small, mechanical bird, Bucky can only raise a brow at the peculiarity of it. The guy had heard, on some level, but he'd still needed prompting to reply with anything at all. It seems more like absentmindedness than disrespect, but the reaction remains noteworthy.

Idly, he closes the file he'd had open and sets it aside as he rolls up the sleeves of his pilot's uniform, a dark navy jumpsuit with the team's insignia off the shoulder and along the upper back. Emblazoned above the left chest pocket lapel is the name Barnes, now visible from the folder being set aside.

"James," he returns, gaze averted as he continues folding his sleeve ends. "Or Bucky, if you'd prefer." If Antonio is one of the team, then...well, it's probably fine.

"Who's your little friend?"

Edited 2025-07-11 15:13 (UTC)

"James it is." Rhodey went from James to Rhodey in short order but the initial offering stands with more certainty than what's doubtless an affectionate nickname he hasn't earned. There's no offer of his hand (still greasy) but he manages a nod with some semblance of civility.

"Which one is yours-" He asks at the same time as James asks about Jarvis, tenor all sleep burred and overlapping, but he segues into an answer without batting a lash. "JARVIS. Just A Rather Very Important System. Kind of a lab assistant, helps me run the numbers. Say Hi, J."

The silvery bird hops to the apex of Tony's shoulder, fluttering hus way to perch on the frame of his Tablet.

Well, there's a clear sense of self importance, with a name like that. And a penchant for acronyms. What's with people involved in defense and their obsession with acronyms?

Jarvis is a solid name, at least, even dated. Not everyone arrives with their own mascot, but maybe it's a young person thing. Bucky can't remember ever wanting a companion in that sense, but a virtual aid is probably more useful than dragging a whole person everywhere. (Steve comes to mind.)

“Hi, J,” the pilot greets, sounding more enthusiastic than it reads from his expression. But they'd spoken at the same time, too, so—

“You were asking. Which Mobile Suit?”

Jarvis, ever polite, lifts one clawed foot to wave. He has also used the limb to shake hands before, most find that charming, and Tony does pride himself on polite creations.

Even if he himself isn't terribly polite most of the time, it's rarely out of disrespect.

"Learning aptitudes and attitude help with developing or enhancing what's already there- the debriefing is fairly thorough but-" And he flips his tablet shut, sliding it into a holster of sort hanging off his belt, the full of his doe eyed focus on James. "There's a specific resonance no amount of math or scanning can pick up. If I'm going to help Shuri with the suits, I need to get to know you all."

A beat. "No pressure."

Odd, that a bird would wave with a foot rather than a wing, but it is also a creation and not a real organism.

Regardless, the way Antonio continues reeks of youthful cockiness that Bucky has to try not to roll his eyes at. If he has to tell anyone anything, he'd much prefer Shuri, with the way she's always been kind and earnest with him. This kid? He'll need to work for it a bit harder, Bucky decides.

“I pilot the Winter Soldier. The grey and red one.” As opposed to the black and red one and the purple and silver one. Folding his arms, Bucky continues, “And there’s not much I can say about the resonance. It’s a fairly indescribable feeling.”

"Stealth, grappling, long range sniping-" Tony murmurs under his breath, nails tapping idly against his sternum. "Considering the nerve suits my best bet is to watch you all spar, figure out where the delays are- for most they're considerable but everything about Shuri's work is just next level."

Does he sound admiring? He sounds admiring, thoroughly impressed and awe struck and maybe this won't be so terrible if he gets to watch her work, learn alongside her. "It's negligible on paper and probably in person but- you know. No one's gotten a viable recording of your squad, ever."

What few that could've surfaced were wiped by Howard, covering tracks. "Which means you're the best, helped by the best and... no pressure, right?"

For him. But. He's going to try his best to keep up until he can start running and riffing. Normally he wouldn't be so conservative with his inventions but its not just him at risk, but a team. A well oiled, well functioning team.

Someone sure sounds nervous. Who hired this kid again? If he isn’t prepared for the job—

“If you feel you're under qualified, I’m not sure I’m the guy you should be talking to.”

The coffee machine beeps enthusiastically as he finishes speaking, and Bucky glances over his shoulder. Fresh pot, all ready. Pushing off the counter, he reaches up to open the upper cupboard to take out a mug, pausing after a beat and glancing back to Antonio.

“Guessing you stopped by for the coffee and not the conversation, right?” Which is to say he’ll grab another cup, if that’s the case.

"What? No. I'm undercaffeinated, got shipped out in the middle of a neural encryption rework that'll up the resonance and minimize delays. Honestly the wall I'm hitting has less to do with pilots and more the speed with which the mobile suits can move." He makes a blatant grabby hand for the coffee mug, talking himself through the wall he had before. "Practically speaking there's no real time dilation happening while you're piloting, right? You and the suit move simultaneously?"

With how the neural encryption and nerve suit feedback works in Shuri's designs, it seems pretty well. There are rumors, of course, of something in the mix giving the pilots a subtle precognitive ability but there's no ethical way to test that.

But considering how quick their reactions are? Tony's not so sure it's unfounded.

Chatty one, it'd seem. And anal retentive. Bucky was going to offer to make the kid's coffee, but sure, he can have the mug. Bucky will just wait.

“Simultaneously, but I wouldn't say in tandem. The suit's doing its best to match, but you have to wait between movements for the suit to catch up. Theoretically, you can queue several movements ahead of time, but it's not practical for reacting as necessary in combat. You can't fully predict what the enemy might do, after all.”

It says something about how tired he is and how excited he might be to talk to an actual pilot aside from Rhodey that he accepts a mug from James' hands. Rhodey helps a lot with his understanding of the tech but that's Howard's tech.

He knows his Father's work inside and out- knows where he hides the flaws to keep people he doesn't trust from using them, knows the habit he instilled in Tony to do the same but- if he was sent here? He doesn't have to do that.

He an cut loose. Responsibly.

Too tired for his usual knee jerk paranoia and neuroses to kick in he hops down from the counter and circles around to the coffee- but waits for Bucky to pour for himself.

He made it, he gets first dibs. "Even with combat AI it's not accurate enough and then time dilation does become a hindrance. Anything smart enough to keep up with you would fry your brain if it was in the system or think too far ahead to be practical. You could try...I think there was an experiment with hooking up a second pilot remotely to handle the calculations but the results were inconclusive."

Antonio hops down and...doesn't get his coffee, looking somewhat expectantly back at Bucky as he continues talking. O...kay. Not great at taking cues, but sure. They've only just met. It's not like the kid knows exactly how to get on Bucky's nerves already. It's probably just blind luck. Or misfortune.

Pouring his coffee, he continues listening idly, considering the suggestion at the end only briefly as he continues to dress his black coffee with sugar. And more sugar. And more sugar. Then, withdrawing so that Antonio has access too the space as he leans against the counter where he'd waited before and blows gently over his cup.

“Second pilot's brain nearly fried, with that experiment. Doubt we'll be trying that any time soon, without a lot of extra research.”

"What? You make the pot, you get first dibs. I came in after." Isn't that normal? Rhodey swore it was normal. Nevermind Antonio downs his first mug black without missing a beat like it's water before pouring a second.

Much as he could use a third- who knows who else needs a mug right now? So. He actually takes the time to add a semi reasonable amount of sugar to his second mug without saying boo about Bucky's sugar syrup coffee.

"...yeah I figured 'inconclusive' results meant initial testing showed signs of danger, not that they went full scale before vetting the potential risks in full. Then again-" Antonio rolls his eyes. "Good old Thunderbolt isn't careful with his test subjects, or so the rumor goes."

The pilot doesn't bother clarifying his pause or what his idea of dibs is, in this situation. Easier to let people assume his thoughts and ideas than to impress the truth. He sips his coffee carefully despite the way Antonio seems to treat hot coffee like it's tepid water. That kind of stuff is how people get throat cancer, he hears.

“Wouldn’t say I disagree, with the rumor. But I’d also say the same goes for most teams. Low risk, low reward. So it goes.”

"There are better ways. Piloting is a rare skill to start with and beyond that you can't just toss people into a meatgrinder and call it progress." Antonio mutters into the rim of his mug. "It's not just about the technology. There's a reason drone suits don't work a quarter as well as mobile suits with an actual pilot. You can't program intuition and improvisation into a drone, you can't replicate that resonance between pilot and machine. That he keeps trying really- ugh."

...

“Sounds rather like this is the first time you've really been on an MS team.”

At last, something to cut the chatter down to nil- a simple observation that has Tony's mouth snapping shut and lips pressing thin, eyes flicking to the side.

Another sip of coffee buys him time, but he's less animated about it, keeps it short and sweet. "You're not entirely wrong."

“What sorta things have you worked on before, then?”

He can’t imagine that Steve would have picked this guy up from nowhere, but the lack of experience seems pretty strange, given the usual tenure of hire.

"Not a team- single pilot, single suit. Different kind of missions." Short and sweet and to the point, he can be concise when pressed.

Or, well.

Quietly mortified.

Well, that sure sounds pretty vague and unspecific. The kid’s clearly dodging full details, and Bucky can't tell if it's from lying about his credentials or masking his identity.

In any case, he makes a mental note of it as he hums neutrally, not betraying his suspicions or his interest in finding the truth.

“While there’s nothing inherently wrong with having strong morals, I would recommend not letting them control your feelings. This kind of work isn’t for the weak hearted.”

"The mission comes first. I know." At the end of the day he's not here to innovate or create or build defensive measures.

He's here to build and refine weapons for people his father thinks can best use them to help. Doesn't matter who's pulling the trigger, a gun is a gun and it'll be more complicated than armor plating and efficient energy relays when they get down to it.

Okay, good. He’s not a total scrub.

Bucky has no intention of rewarding such basic knowledge though, so he just hums his acknowledgement and returns to drinking his coffee. If Antonio has any other questions, he’ll have to be the one to start conversation this time.

Edited 2025-07-12 08:06 (UTC)

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behold the boy

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