Logs:Repairs Needed

Repairs Needed
Dramatis Personae Hulk, Lily, Tony Stark
In Absentia	2020-11-23 "Not me, but -- you know, shares my genes. Solid reason to hate someone. Well-proven."
Location <GA> Across the Rift - Holland Farm - Hiawassee
One of many such family farms -- though fewer all the time -- in this little Appalachian town, the Hollands' 160-some rolling acres are divided about evenly between peach orchards and yearly rotations of crops. A burbling creek winds along one edge of the property, which extends up past the arable portions into steep, wooded mountainside. There are several acres of vegetable gardens nearest to the farmhouse, producing enough food to feed the family and often with excess to sell locally. The barn and pasture adjoining this are likewise mainly for the family's own use, with just a couple of dairy cows, a pair of horses, and plenty of chickens. The farmhouse itself is a big rambling white affair with a generous wraparound porch, full of rustic charm even in its no-nonsense practicality. The furniture is sturdy and plain and well-cared for, the walls adorned with handmade crafts, children's artwork, and some of Jackson Holland's more whimsical original paintings. The kitchen is vast and airy and superbly organized, always redolent of rich home cooking and of the herbs hanging in bundles to dry. In addition to the main house there are two smaller outbuildings, used in the past to house farm hands during the harvest, though these days they mainly host the steady stream of mutant refugees passing through the farm on their way to an uncertain hope of safety beyond the borders. It's gotten cold, and out here in one of the far back sheds there's no climate control to mitigate it; just numb fingers and a pile of old broken-down machinery. Slightly less of a pile now than there was last week -- it's still a mess, for sure, parts strewn everywhere, tools in disarray in an ancient feed-trough that is passing for a work station. But quietly, without much mention made to it, the farm's machinery has been turning slightly-less-broken-down. It started with the truck parked outside, a sturdy flatbed that once had been invaluable in the rocky mountainous roads, now long since gone to ruin but some time this weekend purring like new (even if it still looks like a janky deathtrap.) Then a cultipacker, once in disrepair and now ready to firm up seedbeds next season. Currently Tony is -- mostly out of sight, tucked underneath a Very Large backhoe tractor which is in the middle of its own facelift. The shed was, admittedly, not equipped with these kinds of repairs in mind; there's nothing in place for elevating the heavy duty machinery. That's fine. Tony brought his own assistance. There's more that's large and green in this shed than the tractor, which Hulk has been holding up steadily now for quite some time without any evidence of weariness or discomfort. They do occasionally tilt their head to peer at Tony's progress, asking questions now and again, their voice a low rumble that nevertheless makes the shed vibrate. They do not seem much concerned with the cold despite their state of relative undress--still clad only in the elastic purple trunks, the sole item of Bruce's clothing to survive their transformation. Lily has taken the long way to sheds, which is - just walking, ambling, even, a yellow knit cowl shielding her face from most of the hold and the flannel-lined barn coat doing the rest of the work. Thick jeans and lace up duck boots contribute to the overall sense that she is off to do something a little more intense than interrupting Tony’s work. Her face is set into a Classic Resting Scowl as she knocks on the side of the shed. Doesn’t actually wait for a reply before letting herself in. “Knock knock.” Leans against the door, eyes floating up to the person in here she can actually see clearly. “What’s up, big guy.” Looks down at traces of Tony peeking out from under the tractor. “You gotta turn that into a robot right this second?” "Huh." Just Tony's voice, not Tony. He doesn't bother emerging from Under The Tractor. "Odd, I thought this was a -- farm? That could use farm equipment?" A beat, a wry addition: "That works." More quiet metal creaking sounds. Hulk turns, lifting a hand to wave at Lily without letting the immensely heavy equipment subside even the slightest in the grip of their other hand. "Tractor is up," they declare solemnly. "Tony fix! Then tractor do farm things. Lily need us...right this second?" Their imitation of their host's phrasing sounds awkward, but not wholly uncomprehending. “I see that,” Lily says mildly, giving Hulk a small grin and a thumbs up. “Hey, you’re helping. Thanks, Hulk.” Rolls her eyes before addressing Tony again. “And I thought you were an Avenger. Who wanted to go avenge things in another dimension.” Shrugs her shoulders. ”We have a plan to get you home, finally.” "Avenger? What?" Creakcreak. A clunk of one tool being traded out for another. A grinding. "Yeahno I don't -- play -- any instruments actually. Dabbled in the viola once. Not sure if that suits -- what? Death metal? That has to be death metal, right?" "Hulk help!" Hulk seems both very pleased with and somewhat surprised by this notion. "Farm nice, Hulk like to help." Then, after a moment's consideration. "Hulk no need avenge." Though they sound ever so faintly uncertain on this point. Then, low and kind of ponderous, "Farm better than home." Lily’s lips press together. “You all haven’t gotten that far, huh? So much the better.” Looks up at Hulk. “Much as we like having you here. It’s dangerous for everyone. You, especially.” The last bit directed at Hulk, though as she says it her brows clench together, slightly confused. Back in the vague direction of under the tractor- “Wednesday. We have extra transportation coming. And-“ a genuinely contrite look to Hulk, “someone to get that stuff out of your arm. Really sorry about that.” "Big help, big guy." Insofar as Tony ever sounds warm, it's considerably warmer here than to Lily. "You want a farm at home? We could -- get a farm. Put it on -- they don't do anything useful on the 58th floor do they?" Another scrape, another clunk. A soft mutter that is followed by Tony's head popping out from under the tractor -- to look up at Hulk, not Lily. "That far? Do you understand the things she says? I appreciate the commitment to inanity." Disappears again. "Hear that? They got a Hulk-doctor. Brave new world, here." Hulk nods enthusiastically, little though Tony can see this gesture before he peers out from under the tractor. "If we have farm back home, maybe Hulk help! Maybe no one scream and attack when they see Hulk." After a very slight pause. "Maybe only scream and attack once." They look over at Lily dubiously. "Lily thought Hulk was someone else. Now, Lily no think that. Why sorry?" Then they peer at Tony as he pokes his head out. "Hulk not understand many things," they say, somewhat philosophically. "But Hulk happy if arm no hurt anymore." Lily’s head tilts, regarding Hulk with a rueful expression. “Well, I’m sorry I attacked and hurt you. Even if it made sense at the time.” Blink. She’s not leaning against the wall anyway more- now she’s under the tractor, arms crossed, head to the side looking at Tony. “Today and tomorrow enough time for you to fool around with all this? Wednesday good?” A beat. “We do appreciate the repairs.” This is said extremely grudgingly. Tony twitches when Lily appears, a ratchet falling from his hand to clunk to the ground. "By Wednesday this'll mix your drinks while you --" He frowns, glancing briefly around the shed. "... plow." "Hulk forgive," Hulk says magnanimously. "Many people attack Hulk! Usually no hurt so much." Though he does not, in fact, sound particularly distressed about this. He bends over, curling his arms conscientiously to keep the machinery steadily elevated despite the change in his positioning as he peers at the two others. "Tony smart! He fix many things. Why Lily no like him?" Then, at a delay, his eyes going wide, "Tony not Shellhead." “May God give me the strength to forgive like you do.” One eyebrow goes up at Tony’s remark. Interesting. Looks up at Hulk, at the bottom of tractor. “We have a Tony Stark here too. He’s gotten a lot of my friends locked up or killed. A lot of innocent people locked up and killed. For being different.” Her voice is very tight now. “Like you and me are different.” A blink and she’s back leaning against the wall. “DJ thinks you won’t turn out the same way. I’m not sure.” "Yep." Tony's voice is as casual-brusque as ever. "Heard all about that -- what did we decide on?" Another glance to Hulk. "NegaStark." Now he emerges from under the tractor again. "There's this other person, see. Dangerous, evil. Highly in need of a killing." He's going to chuck his ratchet into the tool... trough, wiping greasy hands off on a rag as he addresses these words to Hulk. "Not me, but -- you know, shares my genes. Solid reason to hate someone. Well-proven." He returns to the tractor with a new set of wrenches as he ducks back under it. "Wednesday. Got it. That it?" "NegaStark!" Hulk agrees loudly, "Shellhead! Bad Tony!" He blows a raspberry that's somehow just a little menacing. "Bad Bruce and Bad Hulk, too. If Hulk meet them? SMASH!" His voice rises enough to rattle the entire shed, but the heavy equipment he's holding up barely budges. "Real Tony no put people in camps. If Tony do that, Hulk tell him NO." “I don’t hate you.” Her voice is mild again, matter of fact. “I just don’t trust you. Last time I trusted someone raised in the same circumstances as you, he funded the regime that killed my fiancé. You get it.” At Hulk’s outburst, Lily looks at him askance. “There’s no Bad Hulk. Our Bruce got the cure.” A beat. “Glad you’re looking out for us, though. I appreciate it.” A slight nod in the direction of Tony’s leg. “Be up at dawn.”