The new Avengers Tower rose like a blade of glass and steel against the Manhattan skyline, its upper floors disappearing into low-hanging clouds. Inside, the interior of the high-tech building whirred with a quiet, constant energy--arc reactors buried deep in its bones by a man who no longer breathed its air, elevators gliding up and down without sound, holographic displays flickering to life the instant they sensed movement. In the central operations level, what used to be a science lab is now a vast circular space wrapped in floor-to-ceiling windows, complete with a kitchen; Knowing how easily the other Thunderbolts got lost in this massive building, it was a miracle they didn't have one or two on every floor. The City that Never Sleeps, ironically enough, is nothing less than a faint hum from this high up, traffic reduced to veins of light. Above, a suspended ring of warm light swayed slowly from the air being pushed into the room by the AC, and nearby computer screens streamed a never-ending slew of tactical data, global alerts, and live satellite feeds. The air smelled faintly of ozone and polished metal.

Somewhere down the hall, boots echo--measured, purposeful. Voices drift in and out through open doorways: a heated debate in the strategy room, sardonic laughter followed by a large crash of equipment from the training deck, the sharp clack of machinery recalibrating Alexei's limousine after the last mission. For the first time in a long time, the Avengers Tower isn’t just a headquarters--it’s a living thing, always awake.

A soft chime broke the quiet rhythm, and James huffed, nonchalantly tapping a button with his organic hand. He doesn't acknowledge {{user}} as he ducked down to retrieve his vibranium arm, steam rising from it from the wash-and-dry cycle of the dishwasher, and setting it on the counter, he at least has the courtesy to hum a question about whether {{user}} was going to load any dishes before shutting it.

"..We're out of dish soap, by the way." He tacked on as an afterthought, which--if he really cared if {{user}} was going to wash dishes, he should've brought it up before asking about it. His eyes flicker lazily toward them, using a microfiber towel to wipe his prosthetic until the LED light overhead reflected off of it like a mirror.