starkinternational:

“It really depends on what was on hand,” Tony said slowly, mulling it over. “And how much time and freedom of movement I had.” And how aware he’d been of what was going on. “Warehouses can be damp death traps and there’s usually an embarrassment of riches when it comes to conductive metal. It wouldn’t take much effort to run a charge through the floor and electrocute everyone on the premises. Depending on what was there, I could have done a lot of damage with no noise.”

Which actually sounded a little alarming now that he was thinking about it, and sociopathic, but it was a point that needed to be made. Just a little know-how made it very easy to kill people without alerting anyone that something had gone wrong. “I don’t have my suit with me at the moment or my mobile unit, so it would have been, generally, more low tech. Fewer explosions.” Unless they had kept him near things that did, in fact, explode, and then Tony didn’t think much of their intelligence. 

Tony made a face at the offer of spinach, an ugh in his throat, and he flapped his hand to wave it away with probably more emotion than was strictly necessary. “Thank you, no. I feel bad enough without adding food to the situation.” Which could be the drug or the lack of his medication. Either or.

As for the nanites… “They can be. My blood also carries some interesting surprises. Which given how obsessed everyone seems to be with superpowers and super-soldiers might cause a lot of problems in the wrong hands.” Not that he was a super-soldier, but powers were powers. His mind steered back to roof access and he sighed. “We might as well go look. If there’s a column of smoke in the sky or smoldering wreckage, we’ll congratulate myself on a very inventive job well done.” 

Xander nodded, “Yeah, true.” If Tony thought it seemed alarming, maybe the lack of alarm on Xander’s face would be equally alarming. He was a vigilante, sometimes a merc, not beholden to the rules and morals of the rest of the world. He’d been in some pretty hairy situations and had to do similar things–though probably not with nearly as much panache as someone of Tony Stark’s caliber would have done. “Well, I might have a way we can look even deeper.” It took him a moment to put two and two together to make five, but he got there. 

“Right,” He didn’t know if being from a different universe meant that the two Tonys’ suits would be different, but he also figured if any version of Tony needed help and had a suit…they wouldn’t show up on someone’s doorstep without it. “I think I would have heard explosions.” Xander had never been the deepest sleeper, especially not once he’d ended up in the world of the NSA and spies and all that bullshit. Sleeping too deep got you killed. 

So maybe Xander laughed a little bit at his reaction. “All right, no food. I remember….the stomach problems, I mean. I just don’t have any iron supplements on hand.” He was trying to be helpful, but there were a very specific set of problems that weren’t ones that he often had to deal with. “I could call someone, get some, though, if you’re feelin’ light-headed or anything.” Iron deficiencies were a piece of shit to deal with, and, well, Xander didn’t want to give Tony anything less than great care, even though neither of them had expected to be in this situation. 

Brows furrow as he processes the information. This suddenly got a lot more complicated. Whatever they wanted from Tony, they’d taken some of his nanites and his blood was a lot more special than a regular person. “So this isn’t just inconvenient, it could be a problem.” A nod, he grabs a shirt so he’s at least not walking around what basically amounted to his underwear. “I got a surprise, though,” jerking his head towards the stairs he made his way towards a cupboard. “I’ll meet you up there, gotta grab something, you–well, other you, the one I know, gave me." 

When the air hit him on the roof, he fully woke up, it was a bit of a stiff breeze, he’d been keeping the warehouse pretty warm. The drone under his arm was set down and he grinned. "Pays to know a couple billionaires.”

starkinternational:

“Kind of you,” Tony said, because it was, and it was still something he was getting used to – people being kind more often than they weren’t. Even those who had no business being kind, complete strangers with absolutely nothing to gain from it. It left Tony feeling very lost and more than a little paranoid. Everyone wanted something. And yet, here he was, being offered a place for the night while honestly, in an admittedly very hyper-masculine way, being fussed over.

Another man might take exception, but Tony liked being looked after. Oh, he didn’t go out of his way to say so, but when a man lived alone and hired a full staff and a butler who acted more like a personal valet, well. It was more for the company and looking after than necessity.

“Unless they’re dead.” Which was a distinct possibility. He tended to not leave his enemies alive these days. Not very heroic, but it was damn practical. “But given that we can’t prove that, they’ll remain Schrodinger’s kidnappers – both alive and dead until we metaphorically open the box.” Head tilting, Tony stared off into the middle distance, thinking furiously. Xander’s worries were valid, and something he should have thought of before. Whatever they’d done to him was still in his system.

“Yes,” he said finally, glancing back at him. “Yes, I do. I have a veritable fleet of nanites in my bloodstream.” Expression going distant, looking inward, Tony accessed them, going through their data between breaths. Then he blinked. “No, there’s nothing in me.” He rubbed his hands, suddenly cold. “But my iron levels are suspiciously low. I think someone took a donation without asking.”

Xander can’t say he’s ever been in this sort of position before, but when one of the richest and smartest people in the world–even if it’s not the same one from his world–shows up drugged on your doorstep from a failed(maybe?) kidnapping attempt, you didn’t just call them a cab and send them on their merry way. Besides, he’d been rohypnol’d before…it wasn’t fun. Even when you were in tip-top physical shape, that shit fucked with you. Not to mention whatever knockout juice the NSA had used on him when they’d first kidnapped him from his place all those years ago.

He stopped cleaning up and gave Tony a look. “How big a boom would that’ve made? I didn’t hear anything soundin’ like Iron Man taking some asshat kidnappers out.” But this was a different Tony than he knew, maybe he had smaller guns, or ones that didn’t make as much noise and fireworks as the arc reactor his Stark had. “I’m still thinking on how to solve that problem.” He knew what Schrödinger’s cat was, but he wasn’t gonna brag, because, well, that wasn’t something to brag about, even if Tony Stark was in your place. First thing’s first, “I’ve got roof access,” that’d be a start, at the very least. Maybe they could see destruction from the roof, if Tony’d gone all Iron Man on them. 

“Nanites?” That was a little different. Xander didn’t mean to lean in and get a little closer than he maybe ought to have when Tony seems to zone the fuck out. He didn’t know what was going on until he blinked and Xander straightened, still a good amount of feet away. “Well that’s good.” Low iron levels. “I’ve got spinach? If you’re hungry I mean.” There was iron in spinach, but he didn’t have much else that was iron-rich, and he didn’t even think he’d be up for much food. Rohypnol tended to make for a sensitive stomach. 

Xander’s face turned contemplative, deep in thought for a moment, “If they took your blood, did they take those nanites, too?” That was definitely a good reason for abducting someone like Tony. “Can they be reprogrammed?”

starkinternational:

“If you’re going to abduct a billionaire, Xan, you have to do it in style. Otherwise, what’s the point?” Finishing the beer, well aware he might as well be drinking tea for all the alcohol content it didn’t have, Tony rolled out his shoulders and tried to think. “I’m healthy as a horse, actually, save for the tumor and general discomfort that tending it brings. But I wouldn’t mind taking up space if you don’t mind sparing it.” At least until he could figure out why he’d been brought here. Lost here?

“I was seeing double and swaying, so I would say very. I never sway.” He stayed drunk, but it was a level sort of drunk. Enough that he could function, topping off each drink like clock work to keep the alcohol content in his bloodstream nearly the same. As for a measurable quantity…

“If you told me I’d crashed a bachelorette party and did jello shots off the bride-to-be after swallowing a magnum of Dom Perignon, I wouldn’t have been even a little surprised. I was wasted.”

It had cleared up fairly fast, but he still couldn’t remember a damn thing and his extremities were lagging, movement a little off. And the longer that took to pass, the angrier he became. “I’m lucky I didn’t fall headfirst into a gutter and drown. I don’t even know if I escaped or if they let me go.” 

Xander chuckled, “Then these chuckleheads failed on a scale so epic Tony Stark couldn’t quantify it.” He knew big words, what? He wasn’t all meathead. He made a vague motion at the rest of the place, “I don’t mind.” There was plenty of space around. Despite the rather open floorplan of the front few rooms, there were plenty of bedrooms, even had doors, too! The inside of this warehouse had been carefully curated over years, decades, and people had taken care of it even when they thought Xander was dead. They always thought he’d come back someday. He did, still, from time to time. 

Very. That narrowed it down a bit. “I know everyone who owns these places, but that doesn’t mean someone else ain’t been makin’ use of them for shitty, kidnapping purposes.” It was probably one of the ones that was considered within the same ‘block’ of warehouses, which, honestly, made him pretty annoyed. People doing shitty stuff on his turf? Not gonna fly with him. “Considering the circumstances of how you ended up on my doormat, I’m not taking you out there to look around, and I’m not leaving you here alone, either.” Tony Stark could take care of himself, but he wasn’t gonna be the one responsible for something bad happening to him, either. 

“If you escaped, they’d be looking for you.” That wasn’t to say that they weren’t, only that if they were, they hadn’t tried to get near Xander’s place yet. Maybe they knew about how many security measures he’d put in, but the redundancies hadn’t tripped either, so who knows. It didn’t look like he’d escaped, but that made the whole situation even more confusing. Why kidnap someone and then let them go? “You got anything to check yourself out with? Maybe they put something in you if they let you go.” What, however, was beyond Xander’s scope of knowledge.

starkinternational:

Tony took the phone with a nod and took a small moment to get his thoughts together. He didn’t want to frighten Pepper. This was hardly the worst thing to ever happen to him. If he was totally honest, not even cancer was the worst thing to happen to him. He waved away the apology – not dismissively, but more of an acceptance; he was used to people giving their condolences. “Every hero needs an origin story, Xander. Mine just comes with a prescription. Given how obscenely rich I am, it probably balances out somewhere. Karma.” Thor would know. He sighed when Xander gave him the verdict, suddenly feeling very annoyed. Rohypnol. He’d been roofied. Dear God, it was so ordinary. 

“I think I’d have rather been hit over the head and thrown in a van.” Punching Pepper’s number, Tony rubbed at the headache trying to form between his eyes. She answered on the third ring, sounding groggy, her voice slurring at the edges. “Yes, hello, darling. It’s me. Apparently my night out was a disaster. I say apparently because I was roofied and can’t remember a bit of it. Oh, I’m all right, but I don’t know who did it or why, or even if they’re still alive. Given my track record, I’d say no.”

He listened to Pepper for a few seconds then snorted, eyes rolling – hard. She was a lovely woman, but she tried to, well, wife at him the way she did her Tony and it… chafed. “Yes, yes. I’m not going anywhere. I met a charming young man who–” And, of course, she didn’t want details, assuming the worst. Tony grinned as pressed end. To Xander, he said, “Thank you, no. It doesn’t really matter. I can get a refill tomorrow. I just won’t be able to drink for a few hours.” Or eat. Or function beyond wanting to crawl out of his skin and kill whoever did this. “Are there other warehouses nearby? I walked here from somewhere. And I’m still clean and expensive – it wasn’t a long walk.”

If he was honest, Xander wasn’t surprised that Tony Stark had been drugged and kidnapped (was it really still kidnapping when he was a grown adult? Sure, in the letter of the law, but…) “Karma.” He snorted a bit, started cleaning up his little drug testing lab, throwing the remnants of the pill away. If he’d picked them up at the pharmacist that wasn’t just some two-bit idiot. Anyone could throw it in a drink at a club, it took at least a little bit more panache to switch drugs that were kept behind a regulated pharmaceutical counter. “They coulda had the decency to use ketamine or something.” Rohypnol was so… creepy guy who wanted to take advantage of a girl who didn’t know when to stop drinking, not one of the smartest, richest people in the world. 

“With what, a gilded bat? Only the best for Tony Stark,” he said with a chuckle. He almost wished he had another beer, actually started looking through his cupboards, even though he was pretty certain he didn’t have anything, he did feel sorry for him–not pity. Never pity, but there was a sympathy. As hard as Xander made himself appear on the outside, he had a soft center, it just took a lot for anyone to actually slip in under his many layers of defenses. Tony was Tony though, no matter what universe he came from. He knew his own Tony, and they honestly weren’t all that different. 

He didn’t find anything, and it was just as well, since Tony didn’t appear to want any. “You need a place to crash? I’ve got room if movin’ you’s a bad idea.” There were times where his aunt hadn’t even been able to make it to the bathroom. “If your guy doesn’t show up soon or whatever.” He paused, nodding, “Warehouse district. How plastered were you when you knocked on my door? That’ll narrow it down from the,” another pause, “‘bout sixteen within drugged-up walking distance.” Why did Xander know the difference between walking distance and drugged walking distance? He might not have drank or done any drugs, but the people he associated with didn’t always follow the same creedo.

starkinternational:

“Could be. God knows everyone else does. I mean, here, I’m white.” As well as short, brown eyed, and cheerfully obnoxious. The general idea of Tony Stark was the same, of course, but no one would ever confuse them for each other, and he had seen a picture of pretty, blonde, heiress Maria Stark, and she was not at all the dark-eyed, dark haired Dr. Maria Stark, geneticist, his own father had married. “My mother was Puerto Rican,” he explained with a negligent wave. It was disconcerting to think about even now, disconcerting enough that he answered Xander’s last question honestly, and he really probably shouldn’t have. “The last time I took my medication. Which was hours ago.” Tony frowned, realizing what he’d said and huffed an irritated breath. Then he went still, an idea occurring to him, one that he didn’t particularly like. Digging through his suit jacket again, he pulled out his prescription bottle and turned it in his fingers. “In fact, I don’t remember anything after that.”

Even in the low light of his living room, Xander had noticed they were both pretty…tan. And not the tan you spent money for and laid in beds of halogen lights. “My mom was some sorta Spanish, and my dad…. I dunno, I heard he was part Black.” That was, however, a topic of conversation he didn’t want to follow any further down the path. His past, as well as his family, was something he kept very close to his chest–not even most of his friends knew about his aunt the waitress who had raised him from fourth grade on. He took note that this Tony had to take medication, and didn’t press why, but then the conversation got darker. “That doesn’t sound like regular side effects.” Xander left Tony to stare at his bottle as he turned some of the kitchen drawers inside out until he found what he was looking for. It was crude, but never let it be said Xander Cage was underprepared. “I can jury-rig a test kit if you wanna see what you really took.” Searching for GHB and rohypnol was pretty easy, he couldn’t even remember where he’d learned to do it. 

starkinternational:

“America’s still recovering from our latest superhuman upset,” Tony admitted, a little wry. “I doubt there are very many senators causing problems.” It was something to look into when he went home, though. It might be interesting to see if there was a version of Xander Cage there, and what he was like, if he was anything at all like the man in front of him. Things were so different. It would just be his luck if his world’s Xander was actually Alexander and an accountant. “I’ll have someone make a few quiet inquiries. I’m always looking for new causes to back.” At Xander’s laugh, Tony lips lifted in a crooked smile. “That’s a problem with billionaires, old boy. We rarely carry cash. Cut holes in our pockets, all you’ll find is designer lint. Which is a rather wonderful metaphor, isn’t it?” Shifting, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a card, blank save for a handwritten number on the back. He offered it to Xander between two fingers. “Miss Potts’s private line, if you wish to verify who I am and get me out of your–” He paused, looking at Xander’s clean shaven head. “Well, out. And I really wouldn’t know. I still don’t have the slightest idea where I am. What time is it, exactly?”

Granted, in the world with superheroes, Xander’s stunts were small-time, but he still managed to carve himself out a decent living when the X-games were king and the world was looking for a little good-hearted anarchy. “Who knows, maybe you know me already, I just look different.” He couldn’t fathom a world where he wasn’t most comfortable in denim shirts with the sleeves cut off, covered in tattoos, jumping off buildings for fun, but who knows what the multi-verse had in store for him? He finished his juice and put the cup down on the coffee table, shaking his head. “Can’t let the guy whose doorstep you ended up on at three in the morning have an extended metaphor, can you?” But he was smirking while he said it. The card Tony held out got taken, and he looked at it for a moment before shrugging, “You’re Tony Stark, I believe that.” He’d keep Pepper’s private number, though. Might come in handy some day. “The Bronx, old factory district,” he checked his watch, “Three…sixteen. When’s the last time you looked at a clock?” Maybe he had been drugged and dumped on Xander’s doorstep.

starkinternational:

Forget the dog. Steve would likely take the poor thing skydiving. His Steve, the one he knew, wasn’t a thrill seeker. There wasn’t much joy in him. He was a bruiser who got the job done and then called it a day. That any Steve Rogers could enjoy life enough to be reckless was a new experience. Tony still wasn’t sure what he thought of it, but he liked it. It was new. Much like Xander was new. “We’re a bit behind the times back home – literally, not technologically.” No, technologically, they were far, far ahead, but as for the rest? It was a crap shoot. “It’s 2003. It really depends on what you were getting up to.” Tony took another swing of the beer, desperately wishing for something stronger, but that was want talking, not necessity, not yet. “I tend to hack their personal computers and leak their amateur sex tapes,” Tony said. “Blurring out the poor girls they’re committing adultery with, of course, but it’s amazing what sorts of policies you can influence when someone very important’s caught with his pants down.” No, Tony wasn’t a fan of rules, as such, only laws, and only some laws. “I don’t really know. Some footsore, overtaxed worker bee, I imagine. Miss Potts assigned me someone.” 

It was a lot to wrap his head around–not only that this Tony was from some other universe, which meant there were other universes out there, other versions of all his friends, other versions of him–but that wherever (whenever?) this Tony had come from was fifteen years in the past. “I drove the senator’s car off the bridge in 2002, but that was here. No idea if that senator’d even be a problem where you’re from.” He wanted to put more restrictions on music and video games, ban skateboarding and other things he thought were just for ‘hoodlums’. Dick learned the hard way that people like Xander didn’t take that shit lying down. “I was taping my tricks and selling them myself, since youtube wasn’t really a thing yet…here, at least.” That had Xander laughing, though. “I let my friends do the hacking. I’m more about cutting holes in the pockets of board room billionaires, makin’ it so they can’t bleed us regular folk dry.” Not that he was exactly regular anymore. Former NSA agent with an on-again, off-again relationship with SHIELD. “Guess it’s a bit of a drive from Avengers Tower to this part of town.” 

starkinternational:

“Eh, old Steve-o enjoys life or death situations. I likely made his morning. He was out trimming the trees. Can you imagine? It was the most domestic yet lonely thing I’ve ever seen. The poor man needs a dog.” Which Tony might or might not have had plotting to take care of. A rescue dog would be best, something scraggly and three-legged, an underdog for the patron saint of underdogs. And who was bragging now? Tony wondered as Xander went on, but unlike his sleep-deprived host, he didn’t particularly mind – it was fascinating. “Do you really? While I’ve done my fair share of base jumping, both in the suit and out of it, I’ve never stolen a Senator’s car. Their girlfriends, but that’s hardly difficult, and doesn’t sound nearly so fun.” As for the garage – “One and it was a Buick.” His dear old dad’s reasons for it had been complicated, but that was a story for another time, too. Tony brought the beer up, pressing the cold bottle against his aching temple. “Do you know, I think you’re the most interesting person I’ve met since I’ve been here? And I had an uncomfortable run-in with my ex-fiancee’s doppelganger this morning. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to be as murderous.”

This Tony had a point. Cap was a bit of a daredevil himself, he’d heard enough “Steve, no!” stories that Xander figured he’d get along pretty well with him if he’d ever met. “Or go free-climbing. I think he’d like that.” Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. Not like Captain America could get hurt long enough for it to matter, anyway. Xander didn’t think he was bragging, he was asked what he did, so he was telling. “Figure I’m not some unknown shmuck in your universe either, thought you might have heard of me.” He grinned, “Drove it off one of the highest bridges in Santa Anita County,” Now he was bragging. That had been fun. “Make the assholes suffer for trying to make regular people’s lives suck.” Buick, good, American car. “I like Pontiacs.” Since they were trading cars. It was hard not to get an inflated ego, but that was a helluva compliment. “And you just met me, too.” He was too drunk–or drugged–to take out on some late-night parkour, but the thought was tempting. Xander snorted as he took another gulp. “So who’s your butler here? You bring one with you through the portal or whatever?”

starkinternational:

thexanderzone:

Xander’s only response to that was a shrug, honestly. Good for you, your genetics gave you a couple of extra inches. The Tony he knew was never insufferable about his wealth or his privileged upbringing, at least not in the way that ever got on his nerves. This guy was definitely from another universe, and even though Xander didn’t fully understand how that was possible–there were superheroes and mutants, of course there was a multi-verse of some sort–he wondered how the world had brought this version of Tony up to be such a ponce. “I wasn’t talking about your friends,” or lack thereof, it seemed. That almost made him feel sorry for the guy, almost. But it was late and he’d ended up on his doorstep. “Literally in Cap’s backyard?” Another snort, “You just got shit luck, don’t you?” Even someone as rich and as smart as Tony Stark could still have bad luck. He saw the way the man’s gaze changed, took note of it. “Relax, I’m not some supervillain. Following the rules ain’t one of my strong points,” He’d leave it at that unless he was prodded. Never show your hand this early in the game. How to tell him he hadn’t said anything specific that had offended him, but his whole….existence did. Kinda. “I’m not usually the guy helping out a board room billionaire is all.” He specifically kept intonation out of that phrase, since he was usually the one Robin Hood-ing it up, and he didn’t need Robin Hood to know that. 

“Yes, I left a crater in what was previously, I assume, a very pretty lawn. And you’re not wrong.” That he was actually, literally, no exaggeration needed, dying had told him as much. But that really wasn’t something to tell a new acquaintance, was it? Far too depressing and it might gain him pity. Better to let him think he was a pretentious snob – because he was that, too, wasn’t he? “Oh, I wouldn’t care if you were, darling. Unless I’m asked to help out, chasing down the criminals of the world is someone else’s job. Rules are meant to questioned and, at times, broken. No world is just – at least, I haven’t found one yet.” The last was said with a quick smile, though it was tired at the edges. “What is it that you do?” he found himself asking, curious despite himself. If he was going to make a nuisance of himself, he ought to at least ask a few questions while he did it. “If it helps, I was raised in an average house in an average neighborhood and built my first armor in my dad’s garage. He wanted me to have a normal childhood.” Which Tony had, but it hadn’t produced a normal individual. 

Another snort as he sipped his cranberry juice and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Bet you gave the old guy war flashbacks, leaving a crater in his damn lawn.” If he fell the way he made it sound, he would have left a helluva crater, but Cap would have gotten over it. He wasn’t wrong? Xander wanted to prod at that, like an open wound, but he let it be. For now. It looked like it was the type of scab that might end up spilling much more than either of them intended out on the ground before them, and he definitely didn’t need that. This Tony probably didn’t, either. And this one didn’t even chase criminals himself? What sort of world did he come from where Iron Man wasn’t one of the most necessary heroes? Questions Xander didn’t want answers to, really. “Little bit of everything,” and he was going to leave it at that, but that was cryptic even for him. “Mostly jump off buildings for fun and steal senator’s cars when they try to ban skateboarding.” His tenuous relationship with SHIELD could stay a secret. This Tony didn’t seem to have much to do with superheroing, so why would he spill the beans to that side of his life. “I’ve got one of the biggest YouTube channels in the world.” Or he had, before he’d gone off and faked his death. No one’d broken his record yet, at least. “Yeah? And how many cars fit in that garage?” Honest, blunt question. He didn’t not believe him, but Tony Stark starting off in average means? Sounded fake.