The Stark Difference

“Sir,” Friday politely interrupted.

Tony’s concentration as he analyzed the displays of past UN conference recordings didn’t waver, his hands continuing to hastily scramble over the keyboards, jotting down notes.

“I thought I might inform you that there is a…” Friday seemed to pause before adding, “a personless cloak at the front entrance of Stark Towers.”

That got Tony’s full attention.

“A what?” Tony asked, astounded, “show me.”

Friday pulled up the security camera footage, revealing one unsupervised Cloak of Levitation who was seemingly peering through the glass, awkwardly trying to worm its way in somehow.

Tony’s lips quirked. For a piece of red cloth with no facial features whatsoever, Tony could somehow detect the cloak’s tenacity and inquisitiveness as it gingerly prodded and assessed its surroundings.

“Friday, I know you know I named him Cloaky,” Tony groused lightheartedly, “I basically take you everywhere and don’t go playing coy with me by pretending like you don't eavesdrop on everything, even when you’re not supposed to.”

“Oh dear,” Friday said, feigning shame at being exposed, “and what would give you that impression, sir?”

Tony scoffed lightly.

“What did I just say about the coy thing, Fri? It’s really not a good look on you,” he playfully teased. “Nobody bypasses the word ‘cape’ and goes straight for ‘cloak,’” he replied smugly.

“Duly noted.” As an artificial intelligence, it was likely she really had.

“Well,” Tony added, “I guess we should invite our magical guest inside.”

“Ever so hospitable, Sir,” Friday retorted. Where she was picking up this snark from, Tony had no idea (it definitely wasn’t him).

The doors slid open and Tony watched through the security cam as the cloak seemed to straighten in surprise at the sudden movement before dashing in without reservation.

Tony tapped the stylus he had been holding against his lips. “Friday, talk to him, try to get him to interact,” Tony said thoughtfully, “I wanna see just how alive this thing is.”

“Cloaky appears to be receptive to my voice,” Friday reported. Tony studied the screen, scrutinizing how the cloak jolted, presumably after hearing Friday’s voice.

“Tell him to wait for me on the couch.”

Cloaky hustled to the couch obediently, primly situating itself against the cushions.

Tony thrummed with excitement at the revelation. He had already assumed the cloak was somehow capable of sight and hearing, given its uncanny abilities to interact with its surroundings. There were many possible explanations for that. But to be able to comprehend language, let alone when given no physical cues? Tony had to know more.

Tony observed for a while longer, noting how the cloak started to jitter, most likely in anticipation. The cloak’s childlike disposition made Tony’s heart swell in fondness.

“Maybe you should attest Cloaky’s sentience for yourself,” Friday countered. “It would be rather rude to keep your guest waiting.”

That was his cue.

Tony made his way onto the elevator, using the silver interior to gauge his reflection. Absently, he wondered if the cloak had a large enough consciousness to develop a sense of aesthetic. If it had, it would know that its host looked like a hot mess. Burning the candles at both ends had a tendency to do that to people, but right now, Tony didn’t want to think about the Accords, about Ross (corruption, control), about the UN (diplomacy, reassurance); he didn’t want to think about the Avengers, the New ones (empty eyes, tongues coiling in distrust) or the past ones (blue eyes, tongues curling in disgust); he just didn’t want to have to think anymore about all his mistakes (Sokovia, Ultron), or all his responsibilities (Rhodey, the public).

Nope, none of that (the guilt was a part of him: he would always be thinking). He had a Cloak to attend to 

The cloak was no longer settled on the couch by the time Tony arrived, aimlessly wandering the perimeter, perking as Tony stepped into the room.

“Soo,” Tony began, as he became face to face (?) with the cloak, “what is it that’s so important that you couldn’t just give me a phone call?”

Tony began back towards the elevator, gesturing the cloak to follow.

“Ditching the parole officer?” Tony jested, “good old Magic Mustache?”

Tony watched the light as the floors ascended.

“I totally had the facial hair first by the way,” Tony added for good measure.

The cloak seemed to hold his gaze

“Speaking of the wizard, is he going to come looking for you by any chance?” Tony turned to speak directly to the cloak, “I’m not going to be charged with cloak-napping now, am I?”

The elevator doors opened, and the cloak swiftly escaped, dodging the question.

“You know, they say silence is a guilty man’s trait,” Tony goaded, trying to get a read on the cloak. It was proving difficult.

Returning to his desk, Tony resumed his previous activities of trying to diffuse the bomb that is litigation, all the while verbally prodding the Cloak; however, Tony’s focus on his original task became increasingly more intense as time progressed. Soon he became completely engrossed in his work, entirely forgetting the Cloak which observed him. He was completely oblivious as it draped itself over his shoulders.

Stephen was unamused.

While he and the Cloak of Levitation were not always together (God help him if they were), there was a unspoken but mutual understanding that whenever Stephen passed through a dimensional gateway, the Cloak would accompany him. Generally, the cloak was never too far off from his person and would appear shortly after the portal was opened.

Only this time it didn’t.

Stephen stood waiting.

He felt like he should call out to beckon it, maybe it would show up after hearing him. Only he didn’t know how. He really hadn’t given the cloak a title.

He could call out for the “Cloak of Levitation,” but the address felt too impersonal. He generally had no qualms reciting the original ancient designations in order to conjure up or utilize certain relics; somehow though, after all the history, he felt the cloak deserved a distinction from its transcribed address. He could call out for “cloak,” but that sounded too blunt (much like yelling out “man” or “woman” to get their attention).

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he regretted it.

“Goddamnit Stark,” He grumbled.

A deep sigh passed his lips.

“Cloaky,” He whispered harshly.

No response.

“Cloaky!” He reiterated once more, this time louder than the last.

He thought he may have heard a noise, but it was probably his wishful imagination.

“Cloaky?” he said slightly desperate.

After another moment of silence, his patience wore thin.

“For the love of God, Cloaky!!!” He shouted, frustrated.

A second voice called out, the disbelief apparent in their tone, “Cloaky?”

If Dr. Stephen Strange flinched at the sudden reply, he would have deny it. Groaning internally, he knew Wong would never let him forget this.

“If it is the Cape of Levitation you are looking for,” despite his deadpan expression, the amusement at his chagrin was undeniable, “then it left hours ago.”

Wong had just returned, standing in the doorway.

“Pray tell,” Stephen replied, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible, “where to did it leave off?”

“Who knows,” he supplied, albeit unhelpfully, “like I said, the cloak is fickle, could be up to anything right now.”

The waft of a warm scent interrupted Stephen’s discontent. His eyes darted to the plastic bag clutched in Wong’s left hand.

“What is that,” Stephen asked despite knowing the answer, “is that—”

“Tuna melt, from the deli I told you about,” Wong stated proudly.

“What? You said you didn’t even have enough to—” Stephen cut himself short, “Nevermind, this conversation is irrelevant. What we need to be talking about is the cloak and if I need to be concerned.”

“Depends,” Wong began.

Stephen felt a haunting premonition.

“If you count me seeing the cloak entering Stark Tower while I was getting this sandwich, then yes, you should be concerned” Wong commented unceremoniously. Stephen suspects his lack of delicacy in the matter was deliberate. Ever since he first met the librarian, he’s learned to detect whenever Wong was gaining entertainment.

Stephen cursed internally. Of course it would. 

Using his sling ring once more, Stephen reopened a portal to a different destination, stepping through onto carpeted floors. He had been on this floor once before, the day following the Green Goblin incident when he and Stark had been discussing the parameters of the New Avengers. When Stark presented the idea on his first visit, he sold it as though it were definite; after their interaction that day, he realized it was barely a concept. Nonetheless, he offered Stark his assistance should the idea come to fruition.

“Dr. Strange,” a modulated voice announced. Strange had been already been added to the New Avengers protocol. Tony didn't intend for the protocol to be utilized, given that he didn't expect any potential members to be lurking around the building, nonetheless, it gave Strange liberal access around the tower. 

“Friday, was it?” Stephen replied.

“Yes, that is correct,” Friday confirmed, “how can I be of assistance to you?”

Stephen made his way onto the elevator after asking Friday to direct him to Stark’s location. Doors opening, he advanced into the lab, surveying the room. The room was large, undoubtedly, but the wide open floors were stationed with cluttered tables and the room was lit with countless holographic screens.

He ignored the content of the room, solely focused on finding Stark. His eyes caught on something red, lain over the side of a table. Striding over, it was definitely his cloak but his steps faltered as it came directly into view.

The flowing edges of the cape curled up as if acknowledging his presence, but then gently settled back down onto the sleeping figure. Stephen approached the table where Stark slept, hunched over and pillowing his head against his folded arms. Stephen wasn’t surprised to be catching Stark sleeping on the job.

His cloak harshly slapped him as he reached down to jostle the man awake. Retracting his hand, he raised a brow at the cloak, but decided not to go against it. Instead, he browsed through the papers strewn about the desk on which Stark slept, expecting it to be related to new tech developments for Stark Industries or something of that nature, and was surprised at what he actually found.

The Accords.

Or at least one section of it.

Or at least a hundred modified versions of the one section of it.

Each was annotated thoroughly, scribbled handwriting occupying the whole page. He internally questioned how many sections Stark had gone through in this exact same manner before he got to this one.

With a newfound interest, he decided to roam and take in the room around him.

The room was an endless interactive database on the Accords and everything relating to it.

...

There was also a holographic list of profiles under the label “New Avengers.”

Major Carol Danvers: Captain Marvel

Dr. Stephen Strange: Sorcerer Supreme

Vision

James Rhodes: War Machine Platypus Honeybear

Hope Pym/Van Dyne: Wasp

Matt Murdock: Daredevil

Jessica Jones

Luke Cage

Peter Parker: Spider-man*

Kamala Khan: Ms. Marvel*

The list kept scrolling.

Underneath each person was data Stark had compiled on the individuals. It was extensive. The tech was intuitive to interact with and Stephen went through some of the profiles, finding himself impressed. He then opened his own file. There was information from his birth, to his education, to his medical career, and disturbingly a lot of content on his lifestyle post accident (which he further discovered had been drawn from collecting and cross referencing a plethora of seemingly arbitrary information).

His eyes skimmed over many of the words under his profile without actually reading, a substantial amount of the information on his life technical.

One sentence caught his eye: best defense against invasion.

He dragged the sentence onto another screen, watching as it expanded into multiple displays. Immediately, he saw a video which he assumed to be a recording from one of Iron Man’s suits. There were numbers displayed around the edges of the video, energy level, thrust power, altitude, oxygen level, ect. but in the center, an enormous black hole like a gaping abyss against the blue sky. It gets larger, and larger, larger and something amidst the black galaxy comes into view and—

“Friday close it all,” Stark’s voice commanded.