The Greatest Show on Earth - StayGolden1 (2024)

Chapter 1: Overture

Chapter Text

“So,” Tony said at last, as he wiped his fingers on a napkin. The last greasy remains left on the corner of his mouth was wiped clean with the swipe of his tongue. “What’s the verdict?”

The Avengers, or what was left of them, sat in a stiff circle around the table. Natasha, who sat on Tony’s right, was still chewing. Though she seemed elsewhere at the moment—her gaze never seemed to leave the napkin dispenser—she nodded, very slowly. “Think it’s starting to grow on me.” Tony turned his gaze to Cap. The star spangled man with a plan threw quick looks around the table, which was nearly crowded with half empty plates and cups. And Shawarma. French Shawarma, to be exact. After a long pause, Steve finally titled his head at Tony with raised eyebrows and a closed mouth smile. “Not bad...not sure if it beats New York’s though.”

“No,” Tony agreed, tossing his napkin beside his empty plate. “No, it sure doesn’t.”

He didn’t know what he expected when he actually saidyes to Cap’s dinner invitation—maybe he was feeling more hopelessly nostalgic than he thought he was. It certainly wasn’t a blast from the past, however. Only Rogers, Romanoff, Wilson, and himself were able to make it on short notice.

The last several months had been a whirlwind.

Last November, a new threat revealed itself in New Zealand. A giant hole in the sky opened up just above Hamilton. Giant, spiny, metallic wasps swarmed the city, destroying everything in their path. They were about the size of Tony’s fist, and they reproduced like rabbits. With more and more little nymphs popping out every two to five seconds, the colony soon spread to other countries. Worst of all were the stings—large yellow boils would grow on the skin, and if someone were to be stung one place too many, the boils would spread over the entire body, causing the person to explode into a miserable yellow pile of goop.

The Avengers assembled, Accords be darned.

As grueling and tedious, and quite franklynastyas the mission was, nothing compared to arriving at New Zealand, ready to neutralize the threat, only to find Steve Rogers and James Barnes waiting for him there.

At the time, Tony couldn’t help but think that the two of them should count themselves lucky that the world had been in peril. But the team had regrouped—Rhodey, Wanda, Vision—even Barton had tagged along. The archer had brazenly escaped house arrest, but everyone pretty much knew he wouldn’t be stopped.

“It’s not terrible”, said Wilson, snapping Tony out of his thoughts. The young veteran was sitting back in his seat, relaxed. “But for Paris? I can think of better cuisines than this.”

“Well, no one’s holding you at gunpoint, Wilson,” Tony said with the lightest cadence. “Be my guest, there’s the door.”

“And leave without paying my share of the tip? Now what kind of gentleman would I be?”

Something flashed in his mind.

A beam of energy, striking his best friend in the chest. The trail of smoke, the spinning, the impact. Blood slithering out of Rhodey’s nose.

Tony sunk his teeth deep into his tongue.

"It wasn’t his fault, Tones,”came Rhodey’s tired but firm voice from just a day prior. “Vision tried to blast him. What was he supposed to do, hold still? You or I would have done the same thing, and apparently he went back for me. Just try and be civil.Do itfor me, alright? For me, Tones?”

He clicked his tongue, not looking anyone in the eye. “Of course. How could I forget?”

Silence settled over their little corner. The high end but cozy Parisian restaurant, Quelque Chose, buzzed around them with the hum of chatter and the clinks of forks and plates. The strains of a violin warbled almost sorrowfully from a few tables to their right. How fitting, Tony thought. “So,” Natasha supplied with an almost sarcastic sort of lightness, “When do you plan on returning to New York?”

Tony didn’t look up—he had pulled out his phone and opened a text from Happy. It was a forwarded message from the kid:

2:43- School’s out for the summer. Hope Queens is ready for full time Spidey! :D

Tony’s sharp smile went as quick as it came. “Soon.” He shot a quick text back before pocketing his phone. “The President and Prime Minister have what they need, andwe’vealready been to China and Brazil.My eyes are tired and mywritinghand is sore. I’m done.”

“I still can’t believewe’re working under SHIELD now,” Sam said.

“It could be worse,” Steve reminded. “The New Accords aren’t perfect, butask anyone on the team—thisnew revision is a big improvementfrom where we started from.”

Tony picked up a wine glass anddownedhalf of it.Capdrove him nuts,he shouldn’t expect anything else—but he did have a point there.

TheNewAccords, which hadbeendrawn up as soon as theWaspthreat had been neutralized, included new andsomewhat drasticchanges...and this time, the Avengers had been apart of all of it, down to the last page.

First – the Avengers were to operate under the supervision of SHIELD. They were now apart of the now official(At least by SHIELD standards)Avengers’ Initiative.Ross had argued against this at first, because SHIELD wasn’t exactly known for playing by the rules 100% of the time. But no one would have signed otherwise, and the U.N.wouldn’t risk consequences if they tried to arrest the Avengers again.

Other changes included the combined agreement that all 117 countries were to hold and participate in city-wide drills in the event of anAvengers-level crisis.Tonythrew his weight into the agreementthat they would bereferred to astheCharlie SpencerDrills—that was the only reason he agreed to put his signature next to Cap’s.

The practice drills had been made mandatory. Over the last several months, every man, woman and child had been subjected to various scenarios ranging from a mild, 30 minute fight that might inconvenience you during rush hour, to end-of-the-world, say-your-prayers, brace-yourself-for-catastrophe type events.

Both SHIELD and StarkIndustries had provided everything civilians would need, (And a little extra on Tony’s part) Scanners,radars,sirens; bomb shelters with stocked cans, first aid kits, beds and toiletries.

They also had emergency boats and ships in place, in case of last minute evacuations. Tony was currently working on the schematics foremergencyunderground railways.No matter what, thereneeded to be a way out.Always. People had complained—work interruptions, thrown off family schedules, and just plain inconvenience—but Tony knew it would be worth it.The team had been flying from country to country to personallyobservethe demonstrations and set it up for approval.France,Thank God,was their last stop.

Rogersturned andfaced Tony.He had shaved his beard a week ago,andhis face had a fresh look.Hissmilewaskind, soft—even proud.“TheCharliedrillswerea great idea, Tony. It’ll take some time for people to come aroundtoit, but...when the time comes, they’ll thank you.”

Before Tony could even think to respond,Romanoffsat forward, crossing her arms and leaning both elbows on the table. “We couldn’t have done it without you.The Wasp Invasion, theNewAccords...everything.”She looked right at him so that Tony had no choice other than to reciprocate. It was the first time he looked her in the eye that evening.

Tony smiled,tightand lifeless. “Yeah, well…”He turned away at last. “We make a good team.”

“We do indeed,” said Romanov after a long pause. She then picked up her glass and raised it, one arm still resting on the table. “To the Avengers.”

Steve and Sam mirrored her. “To the Avengers,” they echoed.

Tony stood up and downed what was left of his wine. “L’Chaim,”He smacked his lips with a pop, cleared his throat, and set his glass back down. “Well, I’m out of here. More work awaits at home.”Helooked around at everyone without actually looking at their faces.“Anyone else need a lift back to New York, or are we all good here?”

Rogers shook his head. “Can’t. We’re, uh...we’re onseparateassignmentsfor SHIELD. Weleave in an hour.”

“Whoah....already.”He dropped his portion of the tab on the table and pulled up his chair. “No rest for the weary.”

“Hydra never rests,” Steve said, briefly looking down. “And as long as it exists, neither can we.”

It was how Rogers chose to look at things, Tony knew.Along with the U.N., SHIELD wasn’t exactly pleased when Cap and his merry men gave everyone the slip. If anything, thesuddenmissionswere Nick Fury’s not-so-subtle way of payback.

“Well, it’s good to see no one’s really holding their breath, Cap.Dropping the Ring into Mount Doommight takeusa while.”

Steve’s forehead crinkledin mild confusion.“Mount Doom?”

For a long free-fall of a second, Tony stared. “Mount Doom,” he repeated, no emotion whatsoever. “Y’know. Frodo, Gandalf… ‘My Precious?’ ”

Steve stared blankly.

Natasha and Sam tried to hide their smiles.

“I take it that you haven’t seen The Lord of the Rings.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Steve said, a little awkwardly. “It’s on my list, actually.” Then, “I’ve read TheHobbit.”

Tonybreathed a long sighand put on a pair of sunglasses. “Someone please get Rogers acquainted with the Jacksonfilms.”

“Not our job,” Sam said, humorously eyeing Steve.

“Sure it is.”He noddedto everyone. “Rogers. Romanoff. Wilson.”

“Stark,” Natasha said, watching Tony as he exited the room.

Steve’s eyes followed.

Tony approached the coat check and placed his ticket on the desk. “Bonsoir,” he said. His French tongue was a little rusty. “Je suis là pour mon manteau.”

“Oui, Monsieur.”

“Tony.”

The initial jolt faded away, and he turnedwith a sigh(He was doing that a lot tonight).Rogers approached.

“Let me guess, my check bounced.”

The soldier chuckled, almost tiredly. “Fat chance of that happening.”

“Then what do you want?”

It came out more harshly than he intended.In his defense, it was late, and hewasgetting old.Also Jet Lag.

If Steve was bothered byTony’s bluntness,he didn’t show it. He seemed to take Tony in. “We never really got a chance to talk,” he said simply. “We’ve all been through a lot of changes in such a short time.I came by to see how you were.”

Silence roared between them.Somewhere in the building, the same violinistfrom earlierwas putting his elbow into it this time,as if his next month’s rent were depending on it.It probably was.

Afaintwhistle escaped Tony’s nostrils, and he removed his sunglasses. His eyes bore into Steve’s. “No,” he said, or rather decided.Something about that statement just...something snapped inside of him. Something that had been pulled taughteversince their battle with the Wasps.“No, you didn’t.Because you and I bothrememberwhatyou did, and you wanted to make sureyouwere okay.”

Steve’s countenance didn’t change much. He probably expected this, and that just made Tony angrier.

“Tony, he wasnot in his right mind. Decades of brainwashing, oftorture.If you knew him before—”

“I’m not talking about Barnes and you know it,” Tony hissed. His body ran with little tremors and he had to fight to keep his voice down. Pepper would lose it if he made a scene at one of her favorite restaurants. “Although that’s a whole other can of worms I don’t feel like opening tonight. And you know what, Rogers? For one who’s been on the run for a year and a half, I thought that maybe you would have gained some insight.”

“And what insight is that?”

Tony gripped his wrist. “About what it actually means to be a team. I can’t believe I just said that to Captainfreaking America, but that’s where we’re at.”

Steve’s eyes were unreadable. “You think you know what that means now? How many times have you went behind the team’s back, Tony? How many times have you acted on your own without consulting any of us?”

“So I guess that justifies keeping the nature of my parent’s murder a secret from me,” Tony snapped. “You wanna know how I am, Rogers, you really wanna know where I’m at, emotionally, physically, mentally—”

“Tony—”

“I’m terrific!Always am, thanks for asking!” His breathing stuttered, and faint vein lines rose up against his skin. Tony tried to rein himself back in. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why I said yes to this little dinner invite. Maybe you were trying to recreate something—and maybe, somewhere deep inside, I wanted to find out if it was possible. Turns out that it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Steve agreed. “But maybe...I don’t know. Maybe it could create something new. Sort of a fresh start, between all of us.”

“Yeah, but before that, you want closure,” Tony said. “Well, I’ll spare you the suspense. If that’s what you’re looking for, there are plenty of other places to find it, but you won’t be getting it from me.”

A long pause wavered between them. Steve then glanced at something behind Tony.

The shorter man turned, and there was the coat check girl, clutching Tony’s coat between her hands. The poor thing gave a start at their sudden focus on her, and froze up like a teenager caught having a party. “Ah—your coat, Monsieur,” she stuttered in a very thick French accent.

Tony gave a small sound acknowledgment and took the coat, slinging it casually over his shoulder. “Thank you dear,” he said. His voice was a touch smoother now, like butter. No sign of any public mental breakdown here.

He gave the girl a verysizable tip. “Oh, and uh, tell your boss to give that violinist a raise. He’s playing for everyone’s soul in there.”

The girl walked away in an awed daze, and Tony put his sunglasses back on. He took a deep breath that shook at the edges. “I’m just not ready,” he said. The admission was tired, and yeah, maybe he should have brought that part up first. Again, Jet Lag.

“Of course,” Steve nodded. “Tony, I didn’t expect everything to fix itself overnight. I just wanted there to be a start. This, tonight, this is a start. No one’s expecting you to jump right back into things…” The captain seemed to reevaluate something, then smirked a little. “Okay, maybe I hoped a little. But I never expected.”

Behind the sunglasses, Tony looked Steve up and down. Despite being berated, his posture remained open. His hands were on his hips, the same way they would be when he was confident, relaxed. Yet, his face was the same firm, steadfast, shining beacon of righteousness Tony had come to know. As good natured as the captain was, Rogers was no push over. Tony found that out quickly.

He had let Tony unleash his bottled up emotions because he allowed it. And perhaps because he agreed with him, somewhat.

He was one stubborn sun of a gun. But then again, so was Tony.

When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object,Pepper had referred to them, years ago.

As usual, she had a good point.

Knowing that Tony had nothing else to contribute to the conversation, Steve finally nodded. “We’ll keep in touch, Tony. Have a safe trip back.”

In the dark, a man moved up and down the aisle, rubbing his hands together like a kid in front of his favorite dessert. He had a slight limp.

On either side of him, people sat at their desks, typing away at their computers like insects. They all wore headsets.

“Are we ready?” the man asked, barely containing the grinin his voice. He straightened the lapels of his two piece suit as he continued to pace the room.

Another man stood off against the far end of the wall. He was bigger, taller, broader. He wasn’t hulking, but one look at him would send anyone in the opposite direction. His ice cold eyes gleamed in the dark. “All these years of planning,” he said, a calm, dangerous sort of rumble, “and you can’t sit still for five more minutes?”

“What can I say?” the first man said, not the least bit intimidated. He flashed his big white teeth in a wide smile. “Pre-show jitters.” His hands alternated from palm to fist as he rhythmically slapped them together. Occasionally, he would duck to look at one of the computer screens, paying no mind to anyone else’s personal space.

He finally stopped behind one woman’s chair and rested his chin on top of her head. “Julia, baby, we all set?”

“Everyone’s almost in place, Mr. Crowe,” came the reply. She looked at her screen as if it were beneath her, and her mouth rested in the tiniest of smirks.

“Didn’t I tell you that my friends call me Cyrus?” He stood up to full height and waved a hand. “Call me Cyrus, everyone!”

“I hope you know what you are doing.”

If the third man hadn’t spoken up, he would’ve been missed altogether. He was short and square, and he wore a lab coat and rounded glasses. His dark eyes betrayed no joy, or even life. He sat on a very uncomfortable looking stool, but he seemed to be right at home, like a coiled snake.

“We put our trust in you, Doc,” Cyrus replied. He kept a healthy distance. “Now put your faith in us. Your time will come; but for now, you just sit back and enjoy the show.”

“Mr. Crowe,” someone said. “Team 1 is ready and is standing by.”

“Hup!” Cyrus cried, and made his way over. He came behind a man with a comb over and gripped his shoulders. “Robert, myman!Excellent.”

“It’s Nelson, sir.”

“Sir! Team 2 is standing by!”

“Julia, baby!”

Other voices sounded off.

“Team 3 standing by.”

“Team 4 standing by!”

“Team 5 standing by.”

“Team 6 standing by.”

Cyrus spun around in a slow circle, rubbing his hands anew. “Good, good, good. And Queens, what about the team in Queens?”

One woman, with the final tap of her fingers, gave a nod of confirmation. “Team 7 standing by.”

Cyrus slapped his hands together and whooped. “Now we’re in business!”

“On your signal, Sir.”

“Just a minute, Gentleman--!” He spun around to address the broader man against the wall, and the Doctor that sat nearest to him. Cyrus raised both his arms, and he co*cked his head with a smile. “I hope you’re ready—because we’re about to make history.”

When it was clear he would receive no response, Cyrus briefly sunk his teeth into his lower lip. “Right!” He clapped, turning back to the vast number of people looking at him, waiting for further instruction.

Cyrus put his hands on his hips. His eyes shined, like a wolf’s.

“Alright then...break a leg, everyone.”

Steve returned to the table. Sam was just standing up. “You’re leaving?” Steve questioned, reaching out a hand.

Sam clasped it. “Yeah. Just got a message from SHIELD. The time table’s moved up. They’ve got a car out waiting for me.”

Steve’s eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. “Wow. That’s...eager of them.”

“That’s what I said,” Natasha agreed with another sip of wine. “I’m starting to think they have it out for us—especially us three.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam threw a half humored glance toward the direction Tony had left in. “They wouldn’t be the first. I’ll see you, Cap.”

Steve nodded and squeezed Sam’s hand. The extra pressure held a thousand meanings, but the overall message was simple: Thank you.Foreverything.

Sam only smiled, and they exchanged a couple pats on the back before parting. “I’ll see you,” Steve said. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

He turned towards Natasha, who rose to embrace him. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and smiled. “Stay safe. Be sure and contact us when it’s over, okay?”

Sam returned the smile with all warmth. “Yes ma’am. Take care.”

And with that, he left.

“Looks like it’s just us now, soldier,” Natasha said as they sat back down. “Care for desert?”

Steve signaled a nearby waitress. “Ma’am?”

After they had ordered, the spy’s face settled into one of business. Steve knew it well. “Have you heard from Barnes?”

“Last I heard he’s still in Zurich.”

There had been rumored sightings of strange serums that had been recreated and distributed between Hydra and its allies. Bucky had caught wind of it and volunteered for the assignment himself. He had been in deep cover for the past two months. Steve had tried to go with him, but Bucky wanted to go it alone—and Steve had his obligations with the Avengers.

Still, Steve worried.

“He wants Hydra gone more than any person I know,” he murmured. “Myself included.”

“It’s understandable,” Natasha said. She regarded him deeply. “Have you been getting any sleep?”

“I get enough.”

“Steve.”

“Nat.”

Natasha shifted away from him, rolling her eyes. They sat in silence for a while. Having finished her wine, the spy reached over and took a sip from Steve’s. Steve groaned soundlessly, but ultimately surrendered a smile at Natasha’s defiant shrug. “So,” she said after a spell. “How’s the Sharon situation?”

The soldier blinked. “How do you know about Sharon?”

“You're really asking me how I know?” Natasha’s lips then pressed together in a barely suppressed a smile as she briefly glanced down at the table. “And Sam might have let a few things slip.”

A breath of a chuckle left his lips. He only paused for a moment before he said, quietly, “Didn’t quite work out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Natasha let a beat pass between them before saying very carefully,

“Steve, I think you’re a nice guy. And you’re a good soldier; one of our best. You see what needs doing, and sure enough, you follow through.”

“I’m sensing a ‘But’ in there somewhere,” Steve said.

“But…” She leaned forward again. “You don’t know when or where to stop. I know that defeating Hydra for good may seem like a pipe dream, and tomorrow is never guaranteed, especially in our line of work. One day, maybe you’ll keel over during a fight...or maybe you’ll age out of it. If the latter happens, you just might have to put down that shield of yours and leave saving the world to someone else. And if and when that day comes, you’re gonna need something, or someone to fall back on.”

“So...what? You’re telling me I should quit while I’m ahead?”

“No...I’m saying that it wouldn’t hurt to have a plan B.”

Steve’s jaw was set. He regarded her with searching eyes. “And what about you?” he asked. “What are you falling back on, Natasha?”

“Don’t change the subject. Besides, I asked first.”

His eyelids flutteredat the rate his mind was going.“Nat, I’m trying to do my job. We’ve got a lot going on, we’ve got thedrills, we’ve got SHIELD to tip toe around—”

“You know whatyou don’tgot?”Natashasaidsharply, leaning back and kicking one leg over the other. “A girlfriend.”

Steve twisted his head around. “Where is that dessert?”

No sooner did the words leave his mouth, a waiter came by and placedtwo chocolatesouffles on the table.

“Voila, Monsieur, Madame,” he chirped.

“Merci,” Steve said, almost too cheerfully. “L’addition, s’il vous plait.”

“Oui, Monsieur.”

Just then, their phones went off simultaneously. Steve and Natasha took their devices out of their pockets with such graceful proficiency, the casual observer might have sworn they had practiced it.

“Nick,” Steve sighed, not all that surprised.

“Damn,” Natasha whispered to her phone before putting it away. She frowned down at her desert and tossed her hands. “What about my souffle?”

Steve was already out of his chair.He took the souffles and faced a nearby couplethatsat adjacent to them. “Excuse me—are any of you allergic to chocolate?”

The couple glanced at each other,momentarily stunned,before the man slowly shook his head.

Steve placed the souffles on their table with a smile. “It’s on us. Bon Appétit.”

“I’m still hungry,” Natasha grumbled as they left.

“I’ll buy you another one.”

The night grew colder.

“Okay. First, we start with Phantom Menace.”

“Obviously.”

“Then, Attack of the Clones. We'll probably reach the point where Anakin kills the Tusken Raiders. Dinner will be ready by then—we’re having tuna casserole, by the way.”

“Awesome.”

“And then afterward we’ll come back and finish it, let our food digest, and then afterwards—”

“—Hershey's and Marsh-mellows,” Peter finished with a grin.

“And dude,” Ned went on. “I’ve got, like, fifteen cans of root beer in my room—”

WHAM!

Peter coughed and sputtered as water dripped off his hair and clothes. Another balloon hit, then a third one. Startled, Ned spun around in circles. “What—where—”

“Boom, got ‘im!” Laughter scattered out across the front lawn of Midtown Tech. Ned and Peter zeroed in on a victorious Flash, who stood out on the front ramp, not ten feet away. The bully pumped his fists high above his head before violently high fiving his friends.

Ned heaved a sigh, and Peter flapped his arms twice, trying to shake his sleeves out. It was only a blue plaid shirt, but it was brand new! May was gonna kill him if he got it ruined.

"Happy summer vacation, Penis, see you next year! Whooo!” Flash took off running, and the laughter lingered long after. Some students shook their heads at Flash’s juvenile antics while others simply glanced up and went on with their business.

“Dude,” Ned hissed when everyone’s attention was finally averted. “You could have totally dodged those.”

“I know,” Peter grunted, pulling off his backpack and checking inside to see if any of his books were wet. “But he’s been doing this every last day of school since we were like, twelve. And if I couldn’t dodge them any of the other times—”

“Yeah, yeah, you shouldn’t dodge them now. But dude, we should plan something—you know, get him back for at least one year. One! What about senior year? Definitely senior year!”

“No,Ned. Just drop it, okay?” The teen was satisfied that most of his books remained dry; thank goodness he tucked his suit around them.

As Peter slung his backpack over his shoulder, his eyes caught the shredded remains of the water balloons lying on the sidewalk. He gathered them up, went over to the nearest trash can, and threw them out.

“I’m Spider-Man. You’re my guy in the chair. We’ve leveled up now!”

A dreamy smile suddenly pooled over Ned’s face, and Peter knew he was remembering Homecoming again. Over time, he had learned that reminding Ned of past heroics was the only way to bring him back down to earth. “Yeah,” his best friend drawled...then the spell broke for a moment. “Did you just pick up those water balloons?”

Peter tried to shrug non nonchalantly as they continued on their way. “I can’t just leave trash on the ground. It’s...littering.”

“It’s Flash’slitter.Flash’strash!”

“So?”

Ned groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Peter.After everything we’ve been through, people still think we’re losers. Even the Freshmen laugh at us. Are you really okay with that?”

“Ned, come on, focus.” Peter threw his arm around him. His sleeve was only half dry, but the other boy didn’t seem to mind. “Now’s not the time to focus on High School stuff. That’s all behind us now, we’ve got bigger things to do! Think of all the patrols you’ll get to help me on.”

Ned head briefly fell to the side. “True. I still can’t believe May is still letting you...y’know, fight crime.”

“Yeah, well...she and Mr. Stark worked it out.”

He smiled a little nervously at the look Ned threw him—he knew all about the fallout they had after May had caught him in his suit last October. Convincing May to continue being a part time superhero wasn’t nearly as easy as he’d made it sound.

He had rules now—rules that Mr. Stark had promised to make absolutely certain he’d follow: No patrolling until all his grades were back up, no cutting class for anyreason unless it was for a big emergency, and always be in by 8:15, not a minute more.

It wasn’t too unreasonable, even he had to admit. And if it meant that he got to keep being Spider-Man, he’d absolutelytake it.

“And besides,” Peter went on, “I think that whole weird alien wasp thing kind of cemented that this is what I’m meant to do.”

“Dude, If I hadn’t said it before, I’ll say it again. Sophom*ore year was bonkers.”

Queens didn’t get the worst of the Wasp Invasion, but it was still chaos. They had been everywhere—in the subway, in schools, even at the supermarkets. While the Avengers were out of the country trying to kill the source, Spider-Man had his hands full trying to scoop up hapless citizens and keeping them away from the worst of the swarm zones.

He had corralled people into some of the safest nooks and crannies that Karen could detect and sealed the entrances as tightly as he could with his webbing.

When it was over, he ended up getting stung, like, nine times. But, thanks to his healing factor and the antidote that the Wakandans obtained and distributed, his swollen lumps eventually faded away, and he was good as new.

Happy had driven him to the compound to receive his extra dose—and the cool part? He got to meet the official go-to doctor of the Avengers, Helen Cho. She was super nice.

Then after that came the Charlie Drills—which stressed out everyone he knew, but Peter knew it was necessary—andfinals. The finals. It had been a lot.

But now came a new chapter. Things had been quiet for a while now as far as aliens were concerned—most of the Avengers were back—and he was pretty sure he aced most of his final tests. So naturally, it was cause for celebration.

A sleepover at Ned’s, and a Star Wars marathon. Just for today, he’d skip patrol to spend some time with his best friend. He had the whole summer, after all.

They headed toward Delmar’s, with Peter’s shoes squelching along the way. They stepped over a steaming manhole cover. “You’ll have to order for me,” said Peter as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.

“Why?”

“I’m still soaked, Mr. Delmar would kill me if I got water on his floor. Now listen…” He looked Ned square in the eye and spoke slowly and clearly, like their lives depended on it. “Get me two packs of gummy worms, and a number 5 with pickles, and it needs to be smushed down flat. You got it?”

Ned nodded along. “Number 5, gummy worms with pickles, and smush it all flat. Cool, got it.”

Hesitation worked Peter’s jaw as Ned entered the Deli, but ultimately chose silence. He sighed a little and turned toward the open streets. It was a nice June afternoon, not too hot. A fire hydrant had burst across the street, and kids were jumping and screaming under the heavy spray of water. He smiled at them.

Something was weird, though. Well, not weird.Maybe...off? Normally, at this time of day, at this time of year, the street would be crowded. The area wasn’t abandoned or anything, but it felt...sort of spacious...and a little quiet? Other than the few screaming kids, and an argument between two men further down his left, the only noise his super hearing could pick up was the sound of the screech of an oncoming subway car and birds.

It’s almosttooquiet,he thought.

A part of him shivered...he had a good couple of months despite everything, and it was shaping up to be a great weekend. And, that worried him, somewhat. Things always seemed to happen when he was having a particularly good day. Like, life-altering things.

Parker Luck, Ben used to call it. Parker Luck would always balance it out.

May would think it nonsense, and Peter remembered the way she would roll her eyes at his Uncle. “He’s just trying to be funny,” she would say. “ParkerLuckdoesn’tactuallyexist,kiddo.”

Still, though. His spider sense was quiet, as of now at least. But...

A rapping at the window startled him to attention. “Mr. Parker,” Mr. Delmar called, waving at him from inside the shop. “What are you standing out there for? Get in here!”

“My shoes are wet!”

“What?”

“I said my shoes are wet, I can’t come in!”

“Sir?” Ned questioned inside, and the confused deli owner turned his head toward him. “Sorry. Is the fried calamari made with peanuts? Because I think I might have a peanut allergy.”

“You might?”

“Yeah—I normally love cashews and stuff, but my mouth’s been pretty weird lately. I had a snickers yesterday and I felt a weird sort of tingle? I don’t know. My mom said that’s it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“We make ours with peanut oil.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Mr. Delmar turned back to the window. The glass was thin, so they could talk normally. “So, it’s your last day, huh?”

“Yep!” Peter replied.

“Sayonara Sophom*ore year!” He waved his big hand with a grin. “You gonna miss it?”

“Heck no!”

Mr. Delmar laughed. “You say the same thing every year. My daughter and her friends used to cry when moving up a grade. Not you!”

Peter shrugged up to his ears. Almost every kid at his school got emotional at the prospect of leaving their old grade behind. Most lamented about how simpler life was when they were little kids. The friends they grew up with, recesses, no pressure, no deadlines...Peter understood it to some degree, but he never really felt that way.

He liked his childhood for the most part, even though there were struggles (but everyone has struggles, right?). But he never actually missed being a kid. Heck, he didn’t care for it now! The future always seemed more exciting. “I dunno—I’m just excited for Junior year.”

"And all that time you’ll be dreaming about Senior year,” Mr. Delmar said. “Seriously, kid, slow down. In a few years you’ll miss being in High School.”

Peter’s half-dry curls shook along with his head. “No, no way…”

A young woman with rectangular glasses flew past him. After her came someone else, a bald man in a grey suit, his forehead covered with sweat.

“I can’t waitto graduate,” Peter said, watching them from the corner of his eye.

“Uhhh, the Jerk Chicken looks good,” said Ned, still choosing. “Does it have a lot of curry though? Curry kinda makes me gassy.”

“Would you like a Jerk Chicken?” Mr. Delmar asked patiently.

“I don’t know—Hey Peter! Should I get a Jerk Chicken?”

“I don’t know, just pick something,” Peter called back. He was half distracted by yet another group of people running past him. They were all in business attire.

A weird lull happened. Nearby, people started shifting out of Peter’s line of sight, and another man almost slammed into him while running.

“You know what, I really should get something a little healthier. I’m actually thinking of going vegan. How much is the Smoked Whitefish salad?”

“$6.99.”

“Really?...that’s kinda expensive for a salad.”

Peter’s eyebrows deepened in concern as people started shouting, fingers pointing somewhere up the street. He looked around sharply before grabbing hold the arm of a frazzled looking middle aged woman. His fingers were careful not to grip too hard. “Ma’am, what’s going on?”

Her body twisted as her free hand pointed south. “Fire. Up on 5^th. The whole building is on fire!”

Peter let her go. “Ned!”

The tone of Peter’s voice had Ned peeking out.

“I gotta go.” His feet were already dancing away.

“What? Why?” He looked up suddenly, and his eyes widened.

“Whoah…”

Peter whirled around and saw the billowing smoke. It was big. And close. “I gotta go!”

“Okay—should I like, call May? Or Happy?”

“What? No it’s fine, I got this. Later, Mr. Delmar!” He turned away, his shoes still squelching as he ran. Then he added to Ned over his shoulder, “Don’t start the movie without me!”

"Where’s he going?” Mr. Delmar murmured. Murph, who sat perched on the counter, yowled, almost mournfully. “Murph,” Delmar said, shocked. He stroked the back of his cat’s head and back. “What’s the matter, buddy? Hey, it’s okay.”

Murph only mewed in distress as Peter disappeared with the surging crowd.

Wanda breathed in the fresh afternoon air as she gripped Vision’s hand a little tighter. The park wasn’t very occupied, but she still pulled her hair back in a loose bun and wore dark sunglasses over her eyes in hopes of warding off recognition. Her track suit was black, despite the heat, and she wore matching tennis shoes.

Vision, however, was a stark contrast. He wore a pastel green shirt with a crisp white collar, and beige pants. His vanilla ice cream was dribbling slightly in his opposite hand.

Wanda’s mouth pursed as she held back a small smile. It was charming, watching the android experience the little things in life that humans take for granted...things like struggling to lick your ice cream in a neat fashion without making a mess.

Vision’s eyebrows knitted together in careful concentration, pulling in his lips. He was in his new human form. He stared at his ice cream, craned his head to lick one side, and studied it again. He was determined to keep the cone clean.

“I think am starting to get the hang of this,” Vision said, eyes still on the frozen treat. “There is a method, I think. I’ve found that twisting the cone slightly as you lick makes eating more efficient.”

Wanda chuckled. “I never saw the point of eating from a cone. I always eat from bowl.”

“Yes, but afterwards, you can eat the cone...you caneat the cone, can’t you?”

“Of course.”

Vision nodded. They continued up the trail in silence. They passed an old woman by the lake feeding a flock of birds. The shouts of a toddler echoed across the manicured lawn. Vision glanced over at his companion, who silently stared at the world ahead behind her shades. “Are you alright?”

Wanda only looked at him for a moment. “Fine. Just tired.”

“Are you wanting to return to the compound?”

“No...no, I just...I am feeling the Jet Lag. I will get over it soon.”

“We had been excused from approving the Charlie Drills, and have been stationary for the past month. I am certain you have recovered since we returned from New Zealand.”

Wanda sighed.

“I had hoped that enticing you out of your room to go to on an outing would lift your spirit,” Vision said. “It didn’t seem right, leaving you to redecorate your room all day.”

“I like decorating,” Wanda said.

“Be as it may, you haven’t been yourself lately. Maybe...it is the company you keep. The other Avengers have not been around for some time, though for good reason. What about Mr. Barton? I know that he is back with his family, but he is fond of you. We could call him.”

The young woman’s heart twisted a little. “It is not you, Vision, I promise.”

“Then what?”

They had paused under a tree. A cool wind carried under the boughs and the leaves fluttered like a thousand green little butterflies about to take flight. The lake shimmered to their left. Wanda took off her sunglasses and stared at the grass for a long while before finally looking up at Vision. “When we signed the New Accords...with all those representatives in the room...what did you think when they looked at you? Red skin and all?”

Vision took a moment to consider. His ice cream was finished now, and he chewed the last of the cone slowly, thoughtfully. “It is natural to be wary of one’s who’s existence is beyond their understanding. I am, after all, a living android who is growing more human by the day. It will take some time for people to get used to.”

Wanda smiled a little. “I wish I could be as objective as you.”

Vision took her face in his hands. They smelled like vanilla. “It was not personal, Wanda. Your abilities are astounding as they are fearsome. The way they looked at you was merely the result of their reservations about your power. Not you.”

“It wasn’t that,” Wanda said. She swallowed thickly. “On the way to the U.N. Center, I saw a little girl. She looked to be having lunch with her mother. I smiled at her, and she recognized me. She was…her eyes. She was so afraid,Vision.”

“Do you think that perhaps she was in awe of you?”

“She smiled at Steve. And at Natasha...one of the most deadliest spies in the world.”

Vision’s fingers were tender as they brushed her cheeks. “I know that I said that I can’t control their fear. Only my own. But I also see my own fear reflected back at me...that one day, I will slip, and lose all control. That I will become that monster everyone imagines.”

Vision took one of her hands and gently kissed the edge of her palm. His blue eyes never left hers. “That will never happen.”

“Because I have you,” Wanda whispered.

“You are stronger than you know,” Vision said. “And of course you have me, but I am not your only tether. There are others who care for you, Wanda.”

The young woman leaned forward and nuzzled her cheek into his chest. Warm, strong arms encircled her. “But none make me feel the way you do.”

Vision’s chin rested on top of her head.

“Yoooo!” said a voice.

The couple startled. A young man with long curly hair grinned at them from behind his phone. A friend stood beside him, openly staring. “It’s the witch!” the first man laughed.

Wanda broke away from Vision and shifted behind and away from him, hiding her face. Vision stayed rooted, glaring coldly but calmly at the unwanted spectators. “Afternoon, gentlemen.” A clear dismissal.

“Out of the way, Andy Bernard,” the first man shouted. He started to circle them with his phone still pointed. “You’re in my shot! How’s it going, witch?”

Wanda’s fingers trembled slightly as she put her sunglasses back on. Her head fell before the camera could catch her eyes.

“Where’s the Avengers? They didn’t ask you to go with them to Paris? Why not?”

“Please,” Vision said, his eyes growing sharper. “My companion and I are simply here to enjoy the scenery. I must ask you to move away.”

“It’s not like its private property,” the man quipped. He was almost in arm’s reach. “Did the team just up and leave you behind? They still mad about what happened in Lagos?”

Vision stepped forward, and Wanda grabbed his hand. “No. We go.”

Vision regarded her. “Wanda, perhaps—”

“No. We go.”

They clasped hands and moved a little faster. The young man’s voice followed them. “Oh, come on, baby girl, don’t be like that! What about your boyfriend there? Is he like you, or is he normal?”

They continued down the trail, ignoring the curious glances of passerby’s along the way.

Dark clouds gathered as they entered a grove of trees.

Frantic feet ran along the wooded path. A man, his printed orange shirt drenched in sweat, wheezed and puffed as he shoved random people out of the way. He ignored their surprised and angered shouts.

The man was more dead than alive when he finally arrived at a large thatched hut. He yanked apart the beaded doorway with one singular cry. “Doutor!”

The people in the hut either paid him no mind, or couldn’t hear him. A long line formed, and many villagers talked amongst themselves as they waited. At the front, a small form sat crouched, speaking softy to a father and his child. His face was partly obscured underneath his pith helmet.

“I know it tastes bad, but you must take your medicine.”

The little girl in front of him scrunched her nose up. The father smiled helplessly. The crouched figure reached out and gave a tap on the girl’s nose. His fair skin stood out even more against the light of the lanterns. “Ouça seu pai. Ele sabe o que é melhor para você.”

“Senhor!” the sweaty man cried. He jumped over a crate full of supplies and grabbed the smaller man’s shoulders. The doctor looked up. His demeanor was surprisingly calm despite the sudden and harsh treatment. “Senhor,” sweaty man gasped again, “É minha esposa...Wife!..Ela está em trabalho de parto!”

The smaller man evaluated him. His brow furrowed. “Tem certeza?” he asked carefully. “A que distância estão suas contrações?”

The sweaty man blinked hard to himself. He shook his head. “As contrações duram dois, talvez cinco minutos. A bolsa dela estourou—por favor!”

There was no visible change in the man, but a new resolve seemed to hit home. He slipped a small bottle into the father’s hand before turning and reaching for a medical bag.

He gave a word of parting to another worker who was sorting through bandages: “Assuma o controle para mim.”

The two men charged through the rain forest. The night was hot and wet. It wasn’t too long before the screams reached them, and the smaller man no longer needed a guide. The sweaty man entered the hut first. A young woman’s head was yanked back in excruciating pain, and she clutched at her swollen belly.

“Está tudo bem,” the sweaty man said excitedly, smoothing back his wife’s hair, which was damp. “Está tudo bem, encontrei o médico!”

"Onde você esteve?" the woman wailed angrily.

Removing his pith helmet, the doctor set down his medical bag, snapped on a pair of gloves, and got out a small stack of towels. "Qual e o nome dela?"

“Isadora,” replied the sweaty man.

The doctor smiled and laid the towels directly in front of the woman. "Nice to meet you, Isadora. My name is Bruce.” He got out a pair of clamps. The father-to-be gripped his wife’s hand nervously.

“Coloque para fora!” Isadora moaned. “Get it out!”

Bruce peered in and his eyes darkened in concentration. “Already listening to Mom, are we?” He readied himself in front of her.“Empurre,” he commanded. Isadora screamed, pushing with all her might. Her husband cringed into her bedside as she slowly crushed his hand. “Empurre! Novamente, empurre!”

A minute passed. Then two. Then five. Then ten.

“Eu não consigo,” Isadora sobbed. “Não posso!”

“Yes you can, Isadora!” Bruce said sharply. “Você pode! Você chegou até aqui. Agora, mais uma vez, EMPURRE!”

Isadora’s upper body jerked forward, eyes squeezed shut tight. Her screams were long, pained. And then… A new scream. A tiny scream. Isadora’s cries of pain melted into cries of joy as Bruce lifted her child into the light. With a simple smile of finality, the Doctor announced, “Um menino.”

The husband looked up weakly and laughed. Isadora sighed her relief and let her head fall back on the pillow. Bruce gently cleaned the baby boy up, cut the cord, and wrapped him snugly in a towel. He gently placed him into Isadora’s waiting arms and stood back as the parents marveled at their little one. “Nicholas,” Isadora breathed. “His name...Nicholas Reis Bruce Arantes.”

Bruce stared for a moment. He leaned his arms on the edge of the bed. A flattered and incredulous sort of sound escaped him. His smile burned the question, Are you sure about that? But Isadora simply smiled at him. “Thank you,” she whispered. Her husband echoed the sentiment, still enamored with the child.

Bruce nodded, briefly looking away. “De nada.” The soft moment lingered. Unbeknownst to the new parents, the Doctor was taking in the scene with a quiet melancholy. He managed to snap himself out of it with the slight shake of his head. He pulled off his gloves and prepared to gather his medical supplies.

Suddenly, several dark figures appeared at the door. Bruce did a double take before peering through the darkness with slightly bewildered eyes. He pivoted slightly, and his shoulders tensed. His voice came out low, cautious. “Who are you?”

“How’d it go?”

Happy’s question was met with the puff-blow of Tony’s cheeks and nothing more. “That bad huh?”

“Just drive, Hogan.”

Happy smiled wryly, but said nothing as he pulled away from the quiet, secluded curb that slept in the shadow of the Quelque Chose restaurant.

Even in the dark of night, Paris was still alive with people. Shopping, eating, dancing. Putting his head back, Tony closed his eyes with a quiet groan as Happy suddenly blasted a horn. “Hey! I have the right of way! I have the right of way! I swear, some Parisians—HEY!” The horn seemed even louder the second time around—or maybe that was just the result of Tony’s growing migraine.

“What are you trying to do, run me over!? You—oh, that’s nice, that’s real nice. Right back atcha, pal!”

A few scattered honks echoed behind them as the car made a blissful turn into the adjacent street. A lull of silence followed, and the forehead of security’s hands relaxed on the wheel.

It was a long time before Happy spoke again, his tone almost soft. “So what did Cap have to say?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Tony said offhandedly. Rolling his head over to the side, he eyed the bottle of bourbon in front of him. He was tempted to take a glass—very tempted.

“I think we’re done.”

Happy eyed him in the rear view mirror. A sad, sarcastic smile seemed stuck to Tony’s face, and he looked away, ruefully.

“Professionally, the Avengers are everything the world needs it to be. We’re strong, maybe even stronger than ever in a few aspects. I mean, the Hulk’s till MIA, and Thor’s out somewhere in space, but...hey, more than half the team is back, That’s good news. And we’ve got SHIELD on our side, more or less. We’re—us? The Avengers? We’re set. We’re all good. We’re a team….”

He breathed in shakily through his nose. His arm suddenly darted out like a snake toward its prey (the bourbon of course) and he poured himself one.“...Except we’re not.” He knocked it back.

Happy’s eyes seemed to study him. “Have you talked to Pepper?”

Tony winced. He wasn’t the most agreeable person in the world (No surprise there), and Pepper knew this more than anybody, so she couldn’t really blame him too much for relaying a few… admittedly off color comments to the Prime Minister of Russia….and the President of India...and the Prime Minister of Britain...and the Prime Minister of Japan. She’s still sending out gift baskets.

“Y’know, Pepper’s a busy woman,” Tony coughed. “Anything I haven’t been doing the last several months has just fallen right onto her plate. I mean, the press conferences, the meetings, the paperwork—”

“She’s still mad at you, isn’t she?”

"I’m a stressed man, I’m just so stressed—”

“President Patel’s wife was not pregnant, why didn’t you just take her word for it? Or better yet, not say anything at all?”

“All I said was that she had a happy glow about her. And that her dress made it look like her stomach was hardly showing. It was supposed to be a compliment!”

“Oh, yeah, great compliment. I heard she cried for an hour.”

Tony sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand. Happy’s phone buzzed. “I mean, she’s a knock out anyway,” The billionaire muttered. “I even told her so before we left!”

“Sure, that was lovely,” Happy said, an eye roll evident in his voice. His phone buzzed again. “First you insult the President of India’s wife, then you turn around and flirt with her. Diplomacy at its finest.”

The Head of Security spared a look at his phone, which was vibrating incessantly on the seat next to him.

“Gonna answer that?” Tony asked, silently willing for any sort of distraction from the current conversation.

Happy did a silent double take as the screen illuminated his features. He reached for the phone. “It’s Ned.”

A woman sat behind a news desk. Mid 30s, most likely. Her brown hair hung in a stiff curtain around her shoulders, and her purple dress was immaculate. Her dark eyes were approachable, but professional. Her manicured hands arranged a few sheets of paper before she began.

“Thank you for joining us on this 8:00 Friday, for Channel 3, Eyewitness News in the morning, I’m Viola Thatcher. We start this morning off with some breaking news. We have confirmed reports that billionaire Tony Stark is in fact missing. Yesterday, the Iron Man himself was in Paris France to approve the last of the Charlie Spencer Drills, along with a few other members of the Avengers. Mr. Stark was reportedly on his way back to New York when two other vehicles crashed into his Audi around 9:10pm Central European Time.

“Witnesses say that the other drivers looked to be completely unharmed, but their faces had been covered with masks. To the shock of onlookers, the masked drivers seemed to be extracting Mr. Stark. He was last seen being carried into yet another vehicle, which was already there at the scene. The third car sped away before anyone could intervene. No word yet from the DST.”

Viola Thatcher went on, adding, “Mr. Stark’s former body guard and current Head of Security, Happy Hogan, was also involved in the crash, and was quickly rushed to the hospital by paramedics. Currently, he is still in critical condition…”

Viola Thatcher trailed off. Her head lowered slightly, away from the camera. Something was obviously being said through her earpiece. She didn’t twitch a muscle—she was a professional after all—but something shifted in her face. She nodded ever so slightly, and one could feel the temperature drop. “Okay,” she said. Her steeled eyes returned to the camera.

“We have just received word that controversial hero Wanda Maximoff, also known to many as the Scarlet Witch, has also been reported missing. The 25 year old was last seen with an unknown companion in Beaver Island State Park. Of course, we will be staying on top of this breaking news as it comes, and we will be bringing you updates as the story unfolds.”

Translations:

-“Merci,” Steve said, almost too cheerfully. “L’addition, s’il vous plait.” (Check Please)

-Tony approached the Coat Check and placed his ticket on the desk. “Bonsoir,” he said. “Je suis là pour mon manteau.” (I’m here for my coat)

-He yanked apart the beaded doorway with one singular cry. “Doutor!”(Doctor!)

-The crouched figure reached out and gave a tap on the girl’s nose. “Ouça seu pai. Ele sabe o que é melhor para você.” (Listen to your father. He knows what’s best for you.)

-“Senhor,” sweaty man gasped again, “É minha esposa...Wife!..Ela está em trabalho de parto!” (It’s my wife..she is in labor!)

-The smaller man evaluated him. His brow furrowed. “Tem certeza?” (Are you sure) he asked carefully. “A que distância estão suas contrações?” (How far apart are her contractions?)

-The sweaty man blinked hard to himself. He shook his head. “As contrações duram dois, talvez cinco minutos. A bolsa dela estourou—por favor!” (The contractions are two, maybe five minutes apart. Her water broke—please!)

-He gave a word of parting to another worker who was sorting through bandages: “Assuma o controle para mim.” (take over for me.)

-“Está tudo bem,” the sweaty man said excitedly, smoothing back his wife’s hair. “Está tudo bem, encontrei o médico!” (It's alright, it's alright, I found the doctor!)

-“Onde você esteve?” the woman wailed angrily. (Where have you been?)

-The doctor set down his medical bag, snapped on a pair of gloves, and got out a small stack of towels. “Qual é o nome dela?” (What is her name?)

-“Empurre,” he commanded. (Push!) “Empurre! Novamente, empurre!” (Push..again, push!)

-“Yes you can, Isadora!” Bruce said sharply. “Você pode! Você chegou até aqui. Agora, mais uma vez, EMPURRE!” (You can! You've come this far. Now, one more time, PUSH!)

-With a simple smile of finality, the Doctor announced, “Um menino.” (A boy)

Chapter 2: Curtain, Lights!

Chapter Text

The world was on fire.

But then again, what else was new?

Maria Hill marched forward, paying no mind to the other SHIELD agents scrambling around her. The long corridor was like a frantic ant farm—every few seconds, agents kept bumping into each other, or the wall. Everyone did their darnedest to avoid her though, and rightly so.

Her face remained a blank mask as she continued on, a small stack of folders tucked under her arm. Up ahead, to her left, the elevator dinged, and Nick Fury stepped out. “What have we got?”

“Still no sign of Stark since yesterday.” They moved down the hall in unison. “We tried running the license plates of the two SUVs that slammed into his car, but they wound up being dead ends. The vehicles had been rented five hours prior to the accident, under two aliases; Mark White and Paul Olson. Both have been deceased for five and ten years, respectively.”

“Ransom demands?”

“None so far. We’ve got people keeping an eye on the web for anything even remotely suspicious. Nothing on our satellites or our bio-metric scans. Sam Wilson is also still MIA.”

Fury sighed. “And still no sign of Steve and Natasha’s Quinjet?”

“None, Sir. We’re still looking.”

“It’s been seven hours since we lost contact,” Fury muttered. “Not even a distress signal. It’s like they vanished into thin air.”

“He’s not the only one.” They entered the Control Room, and Maria handed him one of the files. “Bruce Banner was last seen handing out medical supplies to some villagers.”

Nick took the file and scanned it gravely. “Not even the Brazilian Rain Forest was secluded enough. They were dead set on him.”

Maria nodded. “Witnesses said that he followed a man who claimed that his wife was in labor. They left in a big hurry.”

“The man?”

“Alexandre Arantes. He’s still being questioned, but he and his wife seem to check out.”

“I want their story as soon as possible,” Fury said, rubbing his temple with his thumb. “Where are the agents who were surveilling Banner?”

“They were found in a river three miles from the village.” Maria paused as Nick turned the page. His eye lingered on the high-res photographs of the unfortunate agents. His outward appearance didn’t change, but a shadow seemed to fall over his face. “Agent Jarkins and Agent Reyes had been keeping close vigilance of Banner for the past two years. Jarkins called in late last night, but the signal was suddenly cut off. They were shot point blank.”

Nick flipped through a few more pictures before snapping the folder shut.

“Are we at war?” Maria asked.

“We’ve got trouble,” Nick replied. He handed the folder back to Maria, and his free hands found a railing and leaned on it. He looked out over the dozens of SHIELD analysts at work, pouring over their screens and scanners in a barely contained frenzy. Interns weaved in and out with papers clutched to their chests. All had reasonably high clearance, and were the best of the best...which made the agitation going around all the more disquieting. “As of now, we are seven Avengers short. One gravely injured...and the rest gone at relatively the same time, without a trace. Barely even a fight. This is no amateur. And yet… in all these instances, there have been plenty of random witnesses that remained unharmed. Even Mr. and Mrs. Arantes emerged without so much as a scrape. No sign of Hulk damage. Besides Vision, the only people who did get hurt were two SHIELD agents and Happy Hogan, Head of Security. Not civilians.”

“So it’s not a Global Crisis,” Maria realized. “At least not yet. This is personal.”

“Could be.” Fury straightened and folded his hands behind his back. “What’s interesting though, is that they haven’t even attempted to nab Colonel Rhodes yet...and they hurt Vision bad, but they left him too.”

Maria nodded.

“Speaking of Colonel Rhodes, Sir,” piped an agent. She winced at Nick and Maria’s sharp glares for butting in on a personal conversation. “Uh...The Colonel—the Colonel has refused the protective...detail we’ve provided for him?”

Nick’s eye flared. “He left protective custody?”

The agent flinched and straightened her posture a little more. “He was insistent, Sir. He wanted to be apart of the search efforts for Mr. Stark. And...also, he kind of flew away...in his suit.”

Maria could see the stress mounting in Nick’s shoulders. His back was turned to them both. “Thank you...that will be all, Agent Toris,” he finally said.

Agent Toris practically skated away.

"I’ll have to talk to him myself,” Nick murmured, almost bitingly. “I know he and Stark are best friends, but I always used to think he was the more reasonable of the two.”

“Desperate times,” Maria said with a small smile. Nick huffed a little, but said nothing.

“Sir,” called a young man as he stood up from his chair. He had a large phone and he covered the receiver with his hand. “President Ellis is on the line!”

“We’re not in,” Nick responded. “Tell him to call back.”

“He’s adamant!”

“Not. In!” The Director breathed in and out calmly as the young man reluctantly returned to his seat. “It’s a good thing he only knows about four out of six disappearances,” he said to Maria. “I’d like to keep it that way, at least until we know more. Barton’s on his way, at least.”

“Sir, we’ve lost contact with Barton!”

Nick whirled. “What!?”

The analyst who spoke had glittering sweat on his brow. He stared in dumb shock at his satellite screen, which was blank. He had a white fingered grip on the mouthpiece of his headset. “Foxtrot! Come in, come in! Foxtrot, come in!” He turned his head and looked up anxiously at Fury and Maria as they loomed over him. “We sent two cars to pick up Barton like you ordered, Sir. But now they’re not responding, they’ve completely disappeared!”

“Try them again!” Fury demanded.

“Foxtrot, report! Brown Wolf! Brown Wolf, do you copy? This is Matthews. Come in, come in! Anyone, come in!”

Nothing.

Nick stood fuming for a split second. “Put together a tactical team. I want Phil Coulson at the helm.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Bring in the family. And keep trying for Barton!”

No sooner had Nick turned away, someone else came running up with a file. “Sir, I think you need to see this—”

“Do not tell me another Avenger dropped off the face of the earth!”

“Well—no, Sir. But he has been on our radar and I thought you should know.”

Maria held out her hand and the agent obeyed before backing out. Maria quickly scanned the contents and sighed a little. “This just in. Spider-Man’s gone.”

Nick’s head snapped toward her, his eye practically bulged out of its socket. “Him too?!”

“Yep. Apparently, an apartment building in Queens caught on fire yesterday. Spider-Man arrived at the scene in record time.” She read ahead a little, flipping trough reports. “It seems that he had his hands full rescuing tenants...about, three or four minutes before the fire department arrived. Witnesses are reporting that his last save had been a baby who was stuck alone near the top. Spider-Man was just carrying it back to its mother when they heard a scream. He webbed himself up and crashed through a third story window. He didn’t come back out.”

Nick sighed and ran his hand over his face. “Casualties?”

“None. Miraculously, everyone made it out without any serious injuries. Just mild smoke inhalation and minor burns.”

“Everyone?”

“That’s the thing. That scream? It couldn’t have come from anyone who lived at the apartment. Every single tenant had been present and accounted for after the flames had been doused. They swept the place top to bottom, but no remains were found.”

“So that means he’s alive, at least.”

“Right now, that’s what the public assumes. They think he made it out fine, and that the smoke must have blocked everyone's vision. But our security detail confirmed that Parker never made it back home. May Parker has called at least a dozen police stations...and even that pales in comparison to the multitude of calls she made to Stark. From what’s been happening, it’s safe to assume that Spider-Man has been targeted, along with the rest.”

A new thought came to Maria, and her eyebrows drew together. “...But that doesn't make any sense. Why go after Parker? He’s not even an Avenger. This changes our guy’s MO completely.”

Nick stood still for a long moment, deep in thought. Then something flicked in his eye. “Maybe not.”

He suddenly moved. Maria only lagged behind a second. “Sir?”

“Agent David!” Fury boomed.

Said agent stopped in his tracks and stood at attention. “Yes, Sir?”

“Call up Agent Carter. Tell her to bring in Scott Lang. Make sure she knows that she’s free to use any force necessary.” If the agent was in any way confused by this order, he didn’t show it. His head dropped in a nod. “Sir.”

Maria continued along with Fury, falling in step beside him as they left the Control Room. “Scott Lang?”

“Think about it, Hill. Tony Stark, Captain America, Black Widow....Falcon, Barton, Maximoff. Spider-Man. I wasn’t sure before, but Spider-Man ended up being the missing piece to the puzzle. When was the last time all of those heroes were together?”

Maria’s eyebrows lifted before dropping into a confused knit. “You think this has something to do with the Berlin Incident? I guess it seems like a plausible conclusion, but—Banner wasn’t even there. Why would they risk grabbing him? And why would they leave Vision and Colonel Rhodes behind?”

“Nothing concrete, but I have a few theories. Which leads me to ask—”

“You want me to pull Barnes from Zurich.” Maria glanced over, matter of fact. “He’s still in deep cover.”

“Not anymore, he’s not. I’d like you to see to it personally. Take only those you feel are up for the job.”

“On it.”

“Good. I’m going to see about Baron Zemo.”

“The Berlin Correctional Facility is tightly secured—I doubt he’s had any visitors, let alone the means to pull off something like this.”

“No, but he might know something. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, is that there are eyes and ears everywhere.”

Pepper stared blankly at the passing clouds. The private jet hummed quietly—the medium sized flat screen TV on the wall was muted, leaving her in a deep contemplative silence. The image of Tony’s co*cky eyes burned a hole in the side of her skull as tiny news bullets scrolled along the bottom of the screen. Enormous coverage, very little updates.

“Ms. Potts,” said the flight attendant. She presented a sleek bottle of wine, gesturing towards Pepper’s empty glass. “Would you care for—”

Pepper waved a hand. “No, no thank you.” She paused. Then she reached for the glass and held it up. “Actually, yes, thank you.” The flight attendant smiled as she poured. Pepper took two, three sips. “I know I shouldn’t be drinking,” she murmured to herself as the other woman left. Just then, her phone rang. Pepper answered immediately, almost spilling her wine in the process. “Hello?”

“Pep, it’s me.”

Pepper sighed, deflating. “Rhodey. Hi, I called you.”

“I know.”

“I called eight times.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s been pretty hectic.”

“Yeah, I, I know, I figured it would be, I’m sorry. I just…” She covered her eyes with one hand.

“I completely understand. No updates yet, at least from our end. I just wanted to call to see how you’re holding up. Though, it seems kinda silly to ask.”

“No, it’s fine—really, I’m just happy to hear a friendly voice.”

“Same here. How’s Hogan?”

Pepper took a steadying breath. “We had a scare, but I got the call an hour ago. He’s gonna pull through.”

“Pepper, that’s wonderful.”

“Yeah. He’s being transported back to the states as we speak.”

“Thank God.”

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause.

Finally, Rhodey said, “He’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“We’ll find him, Pep. We’ve been through this before.”

A rattling sort of giggle came from Pepper as her neck and shoulders slumped forward all the way down to her knees. Her hand swept up to her forehead as her long blonde hair dangled to her ankles. “I know,” she repeated. “This is just...Deja vu in the worst sense. Tony missing, Happy in the hospital...I feel like I’m in a loop.” Silence came over the line. She hovered where she was, softly breathing in and out. “It’s just...it’s always him. Every time.”

Rhodey’s sad smile could practically be felt through the other line. “It only seems that way because we love him.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she said quietly. She raised herself back up and smoothed her hair back. “I can’t get ahold of anyone else. It’s just as well, they’re probably following up leads.”

She could hear movement on the other end, followed by the sound of a door closing. “Listen, Pep,” came his voice, more softly this time. “I know I said there weren’t any updates, but there’s something I think you should know. This is a secure line. I’m trusting you to keep a lid on this, at least for now.”

Pepper sat up a little straighter. “Are you—is this allowed? Never mind, what is it?”

“Steve and Natasha were supposed to be sent on a mission in Cairo Egypt yesterday. Somewhere along the way, SHIELD had lost contact with their Quinjet over the Mediterranean. Same time as Tony’s disappearance.”

If Pepper hadn’t been sitting down already, she would have been on the floor. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. Their blip completely disappeared on their satellites. No heat signatures, nothing. And what’s worse, Sam seems to be missing too.”

Pepper’s eyes snapped to the television—she only saw rolling pictures of Tony, and of Wanda in smaller intervals. “Why isn’t this on the News, I don’t understand, I—”

“The Government thought it would be best if the public only knew about Tony and Wanda for now. If it got out that the Avengers are dropping like flies, it might cause panic. And the Military doesn’t even know about Sam yet.”

“Wait, aren’t you an Avenger?” Pepper accused her phone, her free hand suspended. “Shouldn’t you be in...I don’t know, hiding? And how do you know about Sam if the Military—”

“Uh, yeah, SHIELD came to see me,” Rhodey said, and Pepper could picture him running a hand over his face. “They sort of took me into protective custody. I got what I could out of them before I...left.”

Pepper shot up to her feet. “You ran away from SHIELD?”

“...Yeah.”

“James!”

“Look I’m fine. I’m surrounded by the best of the best. More importantly, I’m an Avenger. I’m not gonna just sit around while my best friend is in danger!”

“Yeah, but…” Pepper began to pace the jet. “James, you could get seriously hurt. It sounds like someone’s targeting you guys. Avenger might not be the safest thing to be right now.”

“It never was, Pepper. Now, look I’ve gotta ask—this is off the record. Did Tony say anything to you before he went to dinner with the others? How did he seem, was he…”

Pepper blinked rapidly to the ceiling. “Uh—no, not that I—well, he knew that I was mad at him for making all those stupid comments to those Prime Ministers—”

“Right.”

“I mean, I was still in the middle of putting together a proper gift basket for Haruto Sato when I talked to him last. We were on a video call—that was days before he even left for Paris. He was...well, he was Tony. He was a little worn out from all the traveling he’d done, but he didn’t seem scared, or distressed in any way. Not that he’d tell me what was going on. You know how he tends to keep secrets from those closest to him. Vital secrets.”

“Sadly, yes.”

“And—Rhodey—I don’t know if you’ve heard anything or not, but the News said that Wanda was last seen with a companion, but there was nothing mentioned about him. It had to have been Vision, right?”

"It was. I...read the reports, Pep, it wasn’t pretty. SHIELD was able to get to him before anyone else could intervene. They wouldn’t tell me where they took him, or what his status is. I assume he’s alive, but I’m not 100%.”

“James, I really think you should get somewhere safe. Or at least safer. Come to the Compound, or the Tower at least. It’s where I’m headed.”

“Sorry, Pep. You know I gotta do this. And besides...I have a feeling that whoever doing all this isn’t too interested in me.”

“How do you know that?” Pepper asked tiredly.

“I don’t... not exactly. Just a hunch I guess.” Pepper closed her eyes, her hand resting on her hip. It was Deja Vu alright. Old aches and pains from pure stress were starting to crawl back into her body. Obadiah, Vanko, Hammer, Killian...now this.

“Listen, I gotta go,” Rhodey said after a long pause. “I’ll call you if I hear anything. Give Happy my best. Stay safe.”

“You stay safe,” Pepper nearly grumbled. “And I mean it.” She hung up and dropped the phone onto her empty seat before covering her eyes. Then her hands swiped over her face and rested on either side of her neck. She rolled her eyes in quiet resignation. “Avengers.”

May Parker pushed her way through the crowd of reporters. “Excuse me! Coming through, excuse me, excuse me!”

“Ma’am, you can’t pass through here.”

May made a sound of disbelief as her hand dropped onto the barrier that separated her and the officer. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! Officer, listen, please listen, I’m not a reporter! I just need to get through—”

The officer held up a hand. “Sorry. The perimeter around Avengers Tower is prohibited. You’ll have to go around.”

“But I need to get into Avengers Tower!”

“No can do, they’re on official lock down.”

May’s toes bounced anxiously. “Please I just need to speak to Pepper Potts! My name is May Parker! I have an appointment with her!”

The officer’s curt smile seemed to say nice try as he gripped the hem of his pants and turned away. May gritted her teeth and looked around. She went and sought out another officer, who was standing apart from the others. She squeezed past shouting reporters who doggedly attempted to get any sort of statement.

“Are there any leads in the Stark investigation?”

“Has anyone claimed responsibility for Tony Stark’s abduction?”

“Are there any ransom demands?”

“Is the Wanda Maximoff disappearance related to this case?”

“Is this a terrorist act?”

“Should the public be worried?”

“What about Pepper Potts, how is she feeling today?”

"So far the Avengers have been radio silent, any thoughts on that?”

“Sir,” said May, reaching over the barrier and touching the officer’s shoulder. He was a big guy, thick necked, large belly. She read the name underneath his badge. “Officer Anderson...please. My name is May Parker. I know Tony Stark, I know he’d be okay with me coming up. I just need a moment with Pepper Potts!”

Anderson nodded ironically. “And do you know Ms. Potts as well?”

"Well, no...we’ve never met. But I’m sure she knows about me….somewhat.”

Anderson began to walk away. “No, please—please, I..” She reached into her purse and unfolded a picture of Peter. Granted, it was a school photo from two years ago, but she figured it would help win more sympathy. More help. “I have a nephew. Peter Parker. He’s missing. He's fifteen, brown hair, brown eyes. He’s about...this high? About 5’ 7. He hasn’t been seen since yesterday.”

“Have you filed a missing person’s report?”

“Yes, but, see—and this is why I’m here—my nephew knows Mr. Stark too. Probably far better than I do, they’re close. I figured that if I could just contact him, Peter might be found faster. I mean, he’s got resources, AI surveillance, all those crazy suits...but then I found out this morning that Tony is also missing...just my luck, right? So, as an aunt, as a worried aunt, I would hope that the next best thing is to talk to Pepper Potts. Does that make sense?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, I don’t see how Mr. Stark and a….frankly random kid could be that close. In fact, I’m pretty hard pressed to believe it. I’m guessing your family isn’t rich, or has any connections?”

“No, we’re not rich!” May said. “But he’s not random at all—he’s actually his Intern! Did I tell you Peter is his Intern?”

“Stark Industries doesn't take Interns.”

May cursed internally. They really should have made the Intern thing official. Seeing that she was losing the man, she hurriedly pulled out her phone. “Look! Here’s some text messages between me and Tony Stark! They date back to late 2017. See?”

The officer peered at the text messages, but to May’s dismay, his demeanor didn’t change. “Assuming you do know him personally, and even if you dialed his number right now, there’d be no answer. Do you, by any chance, have Pepper Potts’ phone number?”

“No,” she groaned, her head cringing backwards. “I didn’t get her number—I didn’t even ask—oh!” She jumped. “Happy! I know Happy Hogan!”

“Do you have his number?”

“Yes, but--!” May deflated, realizing that Happy’s phone was probably crushed during the car crash. And he was probably in surgery or a coma or something. But maybe the phone did make it! Maybe Pepper Potts would answer it...

She pressed Happy’s contact and she and Anderson waited.

Not even a ring. The phone was kaput.

“I swear to you,” May sighed, putting her phone away. She held up Peter’s picture again, and her hands trembled anxiously. “He’s his Intern. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Sorry.” Anderson gave the barrier a pat as he moved away. “Even if it did, the place is locked down. No visitors.”

May’s hands flew to her hips, and she glared at the man’s retreating form. Her foot tapped the ground for a bit, before she spat, “I’m his mistress. Does that count for something?”

Anderson turned back around, and a couple of reporters glanced back at her. “That’s right!” May said. “I’m his mistress! In fact, I’m carrying Tony Stark’s child! Tell Ms. Potts that I came to collect! Go ahead, do it! I’m not scared of her!”

Anderson disappeared with the roll of his eyes, and the others turned away. In the already growing chaos, she was effectively spat back out of the crowd, leaving her stumbling backward and alone. It took an extreme amount of restraint not to stamp her foot right then and there.

Talk about terrible, awful, no good timing. Talk about Parker Luck! No, no, it doesn’t exist. But Peter seemed to be testing that theory every day now. “I should have never let him be Spider-Man,” she muttered to herself as she fumed down the street. “I’m sorry, but I shouldn’t have. Ugh, no, I take that back…”

She kicked the base of a lamppost. It didn’t feel as good as she thought it would. In fact it hurt.

Where on earth was he? And who would look for him? The entire world was busy searching for Tony Stark, and everyone in Queens thought that Spider-Man was alive and well, probably out looking for the man himself. May would have thought that too, but Peter would have at least called her first, or left some kind of voicemail. He wouldn’t just leave out of nowhere without saying anything. Especially not after their long talk. Especially not after that fire! He just...he left her nothing. Not even a text message.

Ned, bless him, was doing all he could. He’s hacked into traffic cameras and New York Surveillance feeds. No luck so far. Not a single web in the wind. The only solace was that she knew that Peter was strong, and that his spider abilities would make it hard for anyone to get the best of him. But still...he could be hurt, or bleeding, or scared...or worse. Just the thought of it was unacceptable.

May hovered for a moment, weighing her options. Tony had been her first, and admittedly, only hope. She was concerned for him of course, but Peter took up most of her thoughts. She needed to focus on him.

The other Avengers could help, but they were undoubtedly out there somewhere looking for Tony and that girl with the weird hands. It wasn’t like there was a special hot line, although there should be.

Eventually, an idea came. It wasn’t the best idea, and frankly a rather desperate one, but it was better than just doing nothing. There probably wasn’t anyone at the Avenger’s Compound, and chances were that she would have even worse luck there than at the tower. But, she’d try. She’d try for Peter.

Upstate it was.

Fury walked down the side of an abandoned road. He wrapped his fleece jacket tightly and breathed out a cold puff of air into the night. His matching grey beanie fit snugly over his eyebrows. The Director was in deep, dark thought when his phone rang. Fury answered. “Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?” Maria asked.

“Unfortunately, I already have a clear idea of what the bad news is, but give it to me anyway.”

“Well, we contacted Barnes’s handler and set up a meet...when he didn’t show, we went looking. We located their base of operations, and found...well, his handler wasn’t far. He was in an abandoned dumpster with a broken neck. Aside from that, we were able to obtain Barnes’ contact log. He would phone in every three days, like clockwork. As of a week ago, nothing. No warning, no extraction request. I’m afraid his trail’s gone cold.”

“Hmm. Sounds about right. Well, I can’t say much from my end either. Zemo knows nothing.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Used all my old tricks on him. Like you said, desperate times. I’m confident that he’s had nothing to do with their disappearances. He doesn’t even know the full extent of the situation, if you can believe it.”

“Yikes. I almost feel sorry for the guy.”

“So do I. Almost. The guards are probably being notified…” Miles behind him, a siren wailed. “….now.”

“You didn’t let him see your face, did you?”

“Of course not!” He glanced over his shoulder and kept moving.

“On the bright side, I got a call from Agent Carter. Scott Lang is secured.”

“Well, isn’t that a relief.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how panicked should we be?” Hill asked wryly.

“The sky isn’t falling just yet. We still have a few players in range. And if somehow that fails...well, let’s not discuss too much over the phone. But I’d start looking into the Secondary Protocol.”

There was a long pause over the line. “Do you really think it’s come to that?”

“Never hurts to be prepared. But it remains our last resort. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“In the meantime, hold down the fort for now, I won’t be in for a while. There’s one more errand for me to run.” With that, Fury hung up, snapped the flip phone in half, and tossed the remains into a nearby lake. The faint sirens continued on as he crossed to another path.

Happy woke with a hand weakly stretched out. “Hnngh--!”

There was a shift next to him, and he opened his eyes to blonde hair and a tired face. Pepper’s smile broke through the fog and gloom. “Happy, hey.”

“Tony,” he managed, grunting as he attempted to sit up.

“Hey—take it easy,” Pepper said calmly, holding a gentle but firm hand against his chest. Pain flared up, and Happy squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in short, sharp groans. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re back home at the Tower.” Pepper reached somewhere beside his bed and pushed a button. Somewhere to his left a machine beeped, probably his heart monitor, and was only increasing by the minute.

“Tony,” he said again, his voice catching against the agony. He couldn’t move his neck—it was fitted with a brace. He met Pepper’s gaze as much as he could, a warning in his eyes. “There was—”

“I know. Your body’s been put through the wringer, so just relax, okay?”

Happy would’ve shaken his head if he could. “Pepper—where’s Tony?”

Pepper sat back in her chair. She stared at Happy, fingers to her lips in muted contemplation. Then her fingers fell, and she stirred herself up. “Happy, first off,” she started, still sounding carefully calm. “Tony wouldn’t want you to worry, especially in your condition.”

“What? What do you mean, what—”

“And Tony’s strong. He’s been through this before—”

“Pepper, what are you talking about?”

“We’re looking. We’re still looking, but we’re going to find him—Happy, what are you doing!”

She lurched forward as Happy started pulling the IV from his arm with his uninjured hand. “Happy, stop! Nurse!”

Right on cue, the nurse swooped in, along with three other personnel. It took some maneuvering, and a little bit of man power—even injured, Happy was still a force to be reckoned with—but the handful of staff managed to subdue the former boxer and reinserted the IV. They spoke to him in assuring, placating tones, but Happy wasn’t having it. “Unhand me!” he demanded. “I’m fine, I’m fine, just get me out of this bed!”

“Happy, you cannot be serious,” Pepper said, her head poking out from behind a doctor’s shoulder. She glared down at him like a hawk. “You have a fractured pelvis, five broken ribs, a sprained wrist—whiplash—not to mention multiple lacerations! Your head smashed against the side window. Do you have any idea how long it took for the doctors to tweeze out shards and fragments of glass from your scalp?”

“Bah! I’ve had worse when I fought Mike Tyson—hey, watch where you—that’s a true story by the way—get your hands off—Look, Tony’s the one in danger, not me!”

“And what exactly do you plan to do? The entirety of the U.S. Government is looking for him. SHIELD is looking for him. The public has been made aware. Rhodey is working himself half to death.”

“But you haven’t found him. I’ve got lists, Pepper, Tony’s made many enemies over the years. I’ve got personal accounts of where he’s been and who he’s been talking to over the last few days. I’ve been by his side since New Zealand. Look, just get me a wheelchair and some pain killers or something, I don’t care what it takes. The first 48 hours are crucial—”

“We’re long past 48 hours, Happy,” Pepper said. Her words came out like vomit, and her arms flopped exasperatingly to her sides.

Happy stopped struggling. “...what?” His face then seized in pain and he hissed. The Med Bay personnel finally managed to get him into a more comfortable position before backing a way a little.

“There we are, Mr. Hogan,” the nurse said briskly. As the other men and women in scrubs left, the nurse—Haylie something—checked him over, taking his pulse, listening to his heart. Happy tried to get more information from Pepper, but the woman simply stood to the side with her arms cross and stared at him pointedly—clearly, she was waiting to hear what the nurse’s diagnosis was. Her word would come before anything else.

So Happy begrudgingly answered Haylie’s questions and allowed her to take what she needed. He was only half listening as she picked up her chart and rattled off his injuries, current state of health, recovery time, medication, all that junk. He was more engaged in the stare down between Pepper and himself.

“...so, we’ll give it a few months,” Haylie finally chirped, letting the chart papers fall back onto the clipboard. She was a chipper young woman with smooth dark skin. Her dark curly hair was gathered in a pony tail and scrunchie. “I’d take it slow and easy, but it looks like you’ll be in good shape.” She turned to Pepper. “I’ll be back with his prescription.” She lowered her voice. “I’d...say that he’s alright when it comes to all else. Just make sure he’s not too overwhelmed with information.”

Pepper made sure to smile. “Thank you, Haylie.”

Haylie smiled back with all force. “Sure.” The nurse excused herself, leaving the two alone.

Pepper slowly neared the bed, her arms still folded. She didn’t waste anymore time. “It’s been three days and four nights since your accident, Happy.”

Happy could only stare. “What? And they—they still haven’t found him? The Avengers still haven’t found him? Get me a phone, I wanna talk to Steve, or Nat, or—”

“Steve’s gone. Clint, Natasha, Wanda, Sam...everyone. All gone, in less than an hour.”

In the soft light of a nearby lamp, Happy suddenly noticed the dark circles under Pepper’s eyes. Her hair was also somewhat out of place, which was rare. Her clothes (a simple knee-length skirt and blouse), while well put together and expensive, gave off the impression that they had been worn for some time. The new revelation had shocked him into sudden awareness of his surroundings.

The room was spacious, yet comfortable. There was a large window on the far side, curtains parted. The sky was calm and dark, but looking closer proved that dawn was fast approaching. That would mean that the Avengers...Tony had been missing for almost four days.

And Happy had missed every precious second.

He stared out the window until a bird flew by. Something clicked in his mind, and he turned back toward Pepper. A television hung on the wall above and behind her head. Downton Abbey reruns on PBS. “Remote,” he grunted. “Please.” The hand wasn’t in a splint feebly reached out, and Pepper wordlessly grabbed it from a shelf.

With shaky fingers, Happy flipped the channel. He was immediately met with a news report. Not live, what with the sun being out. Yesterday, probably.

A man with a microphone stood in what looked to be a park. Behind him, the ground was all but destroyed, and the trees were either missing their tops, or decimated entirely.

Happy turned up the volume.

“….amounts of damage, here in Beaver Islands State Park. As you can see, we’re still not allowed anywhere close...” The reporter reached behind and gripped the yellow tape that roped off the entire area. People stood scattered around the outside of it, some taking pictures or videos with their phones. Others just stood with their arms crossed, observing the damage with grim interest.

“Just a little while ago, special forensics swarmed this area. They had been here for several hours, gathering sampled evidence. They finally cleared out about 4:00pm, this afternoon. Now, Tony Stark’s disappearance was dramatic as it was somewhat expected—he’s both a billionaire and a well known superhero after all. His abduction, while very concerning, is as cut and dry as it gets.

But the disappearance of Miss Maximoff is shrouded in mystery , and it’s really got people talking. Who or what could take down someone that powerful? Where is she now? Why haven’t we seen any sight of her since? And who was the mystery man that was with her?”

The reporter started walking around the tape, and the camera followed, recording all the calamity that was left behind. The destroyed ground trailed on for some miles. Benches were splintered to pieces. Signs were scorched. Wanda, and apparently Vision had fought. But strangely, it wasn’t the all out battlefield that Happy would've expected. The park was a mess, but it was the sort of aftermath that one would expect from an Iron Man fight. Not powerhouses like Wanda and Vision fighting for their lives...combined.

“A video has been circulating world wide, which shows Miss Maximoff several minutes before she went missing. Take a look.”

The image switched, and there was Wanda, hiding behind Vision, who was in his human form. Happy clenched his jaw at the obnoxious voice from behind the camera. “It’s not like its private property! Did the team just up and leave you behind? They still mad about what happened in Lagos?”

Happy changed the channel. And there was Tony, limp and bloodied, being pulled out of the car by three masked men. The video was shaky, too shaky to get a decent look at the perps’ license plates. Within seconds, they were gone. It happened that quick.

“I thought people would’ve been more panicked,” Happy said. He turned the volume down a little before tossing the remote onto the blanket.

“That’s because the general public only know about Tony and Wanda,” Pepper said. She pursed her lips a moment. “The Government had finally caught wind a day ago, and they’ve been trying to hold off announcing anything until they learned more….until they could find them. But there’s been...absolutely nothing. It’d be wrong to let people assume that the Avengers had been looking all this time, so…” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “They’re planning to make the announcement this morning. Rhodey told me.”

Happy looked at Pepper. It dawned on him, with some shame, the sheer extent of what Pepper had been going through the past few days. Tony’s abduction, and the team’s. Being privy to earth-shattering secrets and having to keep them all to herself. Worrying about Happy during his operation, and subsequently dealing with his escape attempt...and all this without a single update on her fiancé, the love of her life.

“Pepper, I’m sorry, I…”

Pepper smiled softly and sunk onto the bed near his feet. She was careful not to bump him. “It’s okay. We’re all on edge. Honestly, I’m just relieved that you’re alive. Tony and I...we wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Happy sighed through his nose. It sounded more like a wheeze. Glancing back up, the video of Tony had been replaced with two anchors—a man and a woman. “I should have done more.”

“Happy, you couldn’t have. These people...they’re...I don’t know who they are, or what they even want. But to do what they did in such a short time...they’re professionals. No one could have stopped them, and I’m positive they would have killed you if you tried.”

Now it was Happy’s turn to purse his lips. Years of being Tony’s bodyguard, and it’s come to this. Again.

It’d be one thing if these yahoos were super powered overlords bent on enslaving the human race. It’s what lead him to becoming the Head of Security in the first place. Happy had to admit that he was a fairly regular guy, and he could only do so much (although he always tried his darndest, no matter which robot had whatever army). But these bad guys appeared to be people. People with money, guns and resources, maybe. But flesh and blood people. That made it Happy’s jurisdiction. And he failed.

Just then, as the sky brightened outside, something started to niggle in the back of Happy’s mind. It took a minute to figure out what it was, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes widened.

“...Ned.”

Pepper blinked. “What?”

“Before the accident...I...I remember now, I got a call from Ned. I picked up...and he was rambling on about something. I couldn’t even understand him, that was when…”

His uninjured hand went to his head, which was wrapped up in a thick bandage.

“Happy, what—hey, hey.”

“Pepper, I need your phone,” Happy said, grunting as he struggled to sit forward. “I need to call somebody.”

“Okay, just—don’t pull anything, please.” She went over to get her purse.

On TV, the anchorman droned on. “..still no official statement from Stark Industries—”

The broadcast cut out.

Pepper and Happy started. The screen was flooded now with color bars—SMPTE color bars. “Hey, what happened?”

Pepper’s eyebrows furrowed as she picked up the remote. “I...I don’t know.” She looked down and pressed several buttons. “FRIDAY?”

FRIDAY’S voice came softly in consideration for Happy. “There’s some interference with the television broadcast. It’s not just here—it appears that multiple stations are having the same issue across North America. Satellites are down. I’ll try and look further into it.”

“What?” Pepper said, fingers pressing repeatedly. A low ringing sound whined endlessly in monotone.

A nurse, not Haylie, appeared in the doorway and poked his head in. “Jeez, this one too?” He ducked out, and his voice called out to someone else down the hall.

“Great! How are we supposed to know what’s happening?” Happy said, his irritation rising. Things were getting worse by the second.

Five seconds passed. Then twelve. The only thing they succeeded in was controlling the volume and turning the TV off and back on again. The color bars glared brightly, obnoxiously. The ringing didn’t stop either.

A shudder suddenly went through Pepper’s body. It was visible enough for Happy to notice. “Pepper?”

Pepper didn’t respond right away. She stood rooted to the floor and wet her lips, shaking her head. “...Just...Deja vu,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “In the worst sense.”

The ringing stopped.

The color bar disappeared.

And in its place, a grey screen, and the moving image of a film reel. Pepper and Happy were silent as big black numbers started counting down, just like it used to for old films. Beeping accompanied the flashing digits.

5….4...3...2...1…

The picture changed again, and Pepper gasped sharply.

Happy’s hands, splint and all, flew to his head. “Holy--!”

Tony Stark lay flat on his back.

It wasn’t exactly clear where he was, but they could see that he was on the floor, in a room that seemed to be comprised of white concrete. Only a moment had passed before there was a twitch behind Tony’s eyes. The billionaire subsequently breathed in and blinked awake in a half startled grunt.

Happy and Pepper watched in frozen shock as they watched Tony’s eyes adjust. He watched the ceiling a moment before turning his head to the side. Then his head went back again, and he closed his eyes with a groan. The camera trailed over to the source of Tony’s displeasure.

There at his side, still unconscious, was Captain Steve Rogers.

Chapter 3: Maestro Presents

Chapter Text

Waking up and finding that you have no idea where you were, or how you even got there wasn’t new to Tony by any means—in fact, over half the experiences he’s had were from birthdays and college parties alone. But that didn’t mean it got any easier, particularly at his current age. The thought of “I’m getting too old for this” never really crossed his mind before, at least when it came to his illustrious Iron Man career. Sure, being driven half crazy trying to find ways to protect the earth and driving away his loved ones were good enough reasons, but age certainly wasn’t one of them.

But right now, in this moment, lying next to Steve Rogers, Tony was seriously starting to reconsider his retirement. If Pepper were standing over him, and if she had a contract that ensured that Tony was to never step foot into another Iron Suit again, he would have been inclined to sign it.

The thought of Pepper compelled him to sit up. “Rogers,” he said, and he cleared his throat a few times. It felt like he had been gargling chips of wood. When Steve didn’t stir, Tony shuffled over on his hands and elbows. “Rogers.” When that still didn’t work, Tony reached down and started slapping Steve’s cheek. “Rogers. Hey. Wake up. Wake up, Rogers. Don’t make me give you a wet willy. Rogers.”

Huh. Nothing. That...wasn’t good. Steve was breathing alright, but it was no small feat knocking Captain America out like that. In all likeliness, whoever abducted them meant business. All the more reason to get their heads into the game. Right now.

Sighing, Tony shook his head and put his mouth very close to Steve’s ear. Then he took a deep breath and screamed with all his might. “ROGERS!”

Steve stuttered awake. “Jeez,” he breathed, his eyes ping ponging around the room. “Where...Tony?”

“Yeah, hup to, soldier,” Tony said, easing back into sitting position. “We’ve got a situation.”

Looking around, Steve sat up next to him. “Tony, how...where are we? How did we get here?”

“No idea…” They observed the room together. It was fairly large, about 4 X10. Empty, white, concrete. Echoed a little. No windows. No doors either, at least nothing pronounced. They had to have gotten in here somehow. “They could have at least left us a couple beds...or a bean bag even,” Tony remarked as he got to his feet.

Steve was already heading toward the far side of the wall. He ran a hand over the surface. “Off the bat, I’d assume that this was some type of white room torture,” Steve said, still focused on the wall. “But if that were the case, we’d both be in stark white.”

Tony glanced down at himself. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt with grey thermal sleeves underneath and comfy black pants. Nothing unlike something he’d wear at home, oddly enough. The same could be said for Rogers. A simple blue t-shirt and light brown khaki pants.

And upon checking, they both had on white socks inside their sturdy tennis shoes. “Can’t exactly knock the style,” Tony murmured, briefly pulling at his shirt. “Interesting that they gave us shoes instead of taking them away.” He then took a closer look at Steve. “You’ve got a little...splotch here and there.” Tony’s finger gestured towards his own temple and cheek.

“Really?” Steve’s fingers ghosted over his injuries, which were pink and fairly minimal. Barely even noticeable. “Our Quinjet crashed…” He suddenly turned towards Tony. “Nat was with me.”

Tony nodded, eyes dark. His thoughts immediately went to Happy. “I’m gonna check this side,” he said, crossing the room. “Work your way towards me.”

The two men felt over the walls, carefully checking for any source of weakness or opening, though it didn’t seem like there was any. “So what about you?” Steve asked as they slowly inched toward each other. “Anything coming back?”

“Last thing I remember was a car crash,” Tony said.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I figured it was something like that. I wasn’t gonna say anything, but…” Tony rolled his eyes. “You look good though!” Cap amended. “I mean...to be in a car crash. And you’ve got good mobility.”

“I’m flattered, Cap. So, what do you think? Got any theories?”

Steve bent at the waist as his hands slid over a spot close to the floor. “Not at the moment, no. Hydra was my first thought, but...I don’t know, I guess that’d be too easy. These walls are pretty sturdy, probably meant to hold us for a good number of weeks, give or take. They sealed us in together, so we’re likely looking at some sort of interrogation or torture...one to make the other cooperate. But since we’re not restrained, we’re not in that stage yet.

“They’ll want to talk, or negotiate, or gloat first. If these guys have just the one boss, chances are that they’ll anticipate the possibility of us getting the jump on him, and even they wouldn’t risk that. They’ll probably send in guards to subdue us and bring us to him, so what we’ll need—”

“Door’s open,” Tony said. He had nudged it open with a finger.

Steve whirled around, and the two watched as the door creaked slowly into darkness. “It’s gotta be a trap,” Steve said.

“One way to find out.”

“Tony, wait just a—Tony!”

They stepped into a dark hallway. It was dingy, industrious. The overhead lights flickered every moment or two. The two men scanned the passageway, left then right. It seemed to stretch on on either side, and each seemed to go down a long way before turning to the next passage. Neither direction yielded any clues as to which was more or least dangerous.

“Flip a coin?”

“We’re not separating, Tony.”

“Of course not. I say we go right.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’m not. Not entirely. But I figure it’s better than standing here, arguing on where to go next.”

Steve sighed thinly through his nose. “Fine. You don’t have your tech, so let me go first.”

Tony’s arm went up like a crossing gate, gesturing the path before them. “After you, Captain.”

“Are you seeing this? Are you...is anyone seeing this?”

The chair had rolled backward and slammed into someone’s desk as Christine Everhart stood to her feet. She and all of her other co workers stared in disbelief as they watched Tony Stark and Steve Rogers move cautiously down the corridor. There had been complete silence throughout their entire back and forth, and only now had the spell broken. “We’re...I…” said Jane Atkins, looking back and forth between the flat screen and her phone. “My phone’s blowing up...It’s everywhere...they’re everywhere. On every TV!”

“Go and look!” commanded Christine’s boss.

Christine broke from her daze and rushed out of the office. She didn’t even bother taking the elevator. Her heels clacked loudly in the stairway. She heard the door grunt open and close above her as a handful of coworkers followed her.

She paid no mind to any of them as she practically flew down the last flight of stairs, out the door, and into the street. They were close enough to Times Square to see the spectaculars and jumbo trons from here. On every one of them were Stark and Rogers. Every single one.

“No freakin’ way,” a co worker panted near her ear. “What even is this?” The others murmured excitedly to one another, and Christine kept staring. Slowly, she felt herself smile.

“Hey! What happened to Gumball?” Cassie Lang kept trying to flip the channel, but all she got was Captain America and Iron Man walking down a hall. “Mom!”

“In a minute, sweetie!” called Margret from the kitchen.

“But Mom, Iron Man and Captain America are on TV! I can’t get them off!”

"How do you think I feel everyday?” Margaret murmured, cutting the chives.

Mrs. Leeds appeared in the doorway. “Ned, honey. I think there’s something you should see.”

Ned’s red eyes hazily studied his computer screen. He hunched over it protectively. “Not now, Mom. I’m...busy…” He picked up his pencil and notebook, and with a sigh, crossed off the last neighborhood in Connecticut. He had double, triple, quadruple checked the surveillance feeds of every city, county, neighborhood and alleyway in the entirety of New York. He then went on to New Jersey, and had just finished Connecticut. No sign of his best friend. Guess it was time to move on to Rhode Island.

“Edward. You’ve been at that computer non stop.”

“Mom, I’m busy.”

“Too busy even for Iron Man? It looks like they found him.”

Ned’s weary mind took a moment to process. “...What?” He put down his pencil and paper and rushed past his mother into the living room. If they found Iron Man, then could that mean…?

He stopped behind the couch and leaned on it for support. He was expecting breaking news coverage or something, but the scene before him was muted, dark, and...unsettling. There he was alright, Tony Stark himself. But, he looked all beat up. And was that Captain America?

“Why are they without their suits?” Ned asked, half dazed. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but there he is,” Mrs. Leeds said, coming up behind him. She smiled. “Thought it might cheer you up. Trouble is, I can’t seem to change the channel. Might be some kind of glitch or something. Here, I’ll get you some pie and milk.”

As his mom left for the kitchen, Ned turned back to the TV. Then, with one foot at a time, he rounded the couch and approached the screen. He flopped down on the floor in front of it and leaned forward. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for exactly. But he did watch. And he did wait. For something....anything.

A phone rang.

“Fury.”

“Sir—”

“I know. I see it. I’m on my way, tell everyone not to panic.”

“Not to sound like a broken record, but the President—”

“He’s waited this long, tell him to hold on!”

Pepper stared up at the TV, motionless. Her hand had been to her mouth the whole time. She could feel the radiating anger and worry from Happy behind her...but in all honesty, all she felt in that moment was relief. Relief that Tony wasn’t being tortured, or starved, or beaten...at least not yet.

He was up. He was moving. He was quipping. She closed her eyes and hid a laugh. Tony was still Tony, and Pepper was immensely grateful. It was like someone poured healing ointment on her heart. She knew that her elation wouldn’t last long, no doubt about that. Chances were, she'd be at her breaking point again, and would possibly be screaming her head off in an hour tops. But she would hold on to that sweet feeling regardless, and cling to it as long as she could.

No sooner had Tony and Steve stepped into the hallway, her phone rang. She ignored it for the first six rings. Her eyes were glued to the screen, silently watching Tony’s every move, and counting every scar on his face. But then she glanced over, and saw that it was Rhodey.

“Hey.”

“Pepper, are you—”

“Yeah. I’m seeing it. Where are….where is this broadcasting from?”

“I don’t know, we’re trying to figure that out…” There was a pause. “At least we know he and Steve are okay.”

“Yeah, but for how long,” Pepper murmured, though she was still riding that elation high. She glanced back at Happy, whose face seemed frozen in bewilderment. With a reassuring smile, she retreated back to his bedside and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Still, so far so good,” Pepper said to Rhodey.

“Thing is, we haven’t gotten that far yet. We still don’t know what their plan—”

Ladies and Gentlemen...

Pepper jumped a little. Rhodey had been abruptly interrupted by a smooth voice.

Boys and Girls….children of all ages. Welcome to our show.

“FRIDAY,” Pepper said.

“I can’t seem to locate the source of the broadcast, Ms. Potts,” FRIDAY said, and the AI actually sounded somewhat confused.

Pepper studied the screen. Tony and Steve didn’t seem to react to the voice at all. Apparently only they, the audience, could hear it.

Apologies for the interruption of this program, the voice continued, though he didn’t sound like he was sorry at all.

But I think the content you are about to see will prove much more interesting. Right now, the entirety of the U.S. Government is probably running around like hens trying to locate the origin of our broadcast. Well, I’ll tell ya right now...don’t bother. You’ll find our technology quite advanced compared to yours. We’re out of your league. That goes for you too, SHIELD. But hey, if you really wanna go for it, then by all means, knock yourselves out. Whatever it takes to amuse yourselves for the coming weeks. Or, months, or days—I dunno, depends on how long our heroes can survive.

His voice then took on a more friendly tone.

But not to worry, dear people. We mean you no harm. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Think of this as a special gift, from us, to you. Who are we, you might ask? Not important. At least, not for the time being. As for me, I go by many names...but you fine people can call me Maestro.

Pepper and Happy’s faces crinkled, and said in unison, “Maestro?”

Rhodey scoffed on the other line. “Get a load of this guy.” Pepper could hear the slight echo of Maestro’s voice on the other end as he resumed talking.

Most of you think that the Avengers are heroes. We’d like to challenge that belief. Sure, they’ll catch you if you fall off a building, or pull you out of the way of a rampaging alien beast, if they can get to you fast enough… and yes, maybe they’ll even take a hit or two on your behalf. Question is though, do you know them? Do any of us really know them? Well, as it happens, I have reason to believe that the Avengers really are no better than you or I. Power is a funny thing. Only the chosen few can really be trusted with it. These band of misfits are not such people. And I’ve taken it upon myself to share my little hypothesis with all of you.

Pepper watched with stilled breath as she watched Steve and Tony round another corner. The camera switched angles every so often. The quality was surprisingly flawless. Good enough to be a blockbuster film.

Trust me, folks. The Avengers can’t even keep themselves together. If you knew...if you really knew how broken this team is...how foolish, how dangerous, how careless...if you knew who they truly are under the masks, the shields, the shiny costumes...well, I’ll let you be the judge. I could do this the boring way, and leak all sorts of archival files, data and reports that the powers that be would do anything to keep under wraps...but hey, as they say in the movie business—show, don’t tell.

So, sit back...relax...grab the popcorn, take a load off. Because you’re about to get the full on behind the scenes treatment. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the Avengers.

As the savages they really are.

There was silence then, save from the ominous sounds coming from the corridor Steve and Tony were still traversing.

Rhodey said after a long pause, “Pep, I’m gonna…”

“Yep.” She nodded, once. “You do that.”

The line went dead.

Steve and Tony moved silently. They had been walking for...maybe ten minutes now? Twelve? With each new passage came another, and they all looked the same. “Maybe this was the torture,” Tony said.

“Keep your voice down,” Steve whispered.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to risk them knowing the two of us are out here, what with the unlocked door and all.” But Tony softened his voice anyway. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say—”

“Shh.”

“...Did you just shush—”

“Shhhh!”

Steve had changed his stance and he held out an arm in front of Tony. The two men stalled a second, straining their ears for sound. Slowly, Steve eased towards the corner up ahead, with Tony following tensely behind.

As Steve peeked around the corner, a fist flew out. Steve grabbed it and flew the surprise guest onto their back. The stranger lifted their legs and snapped back to their feet before blocking a punch. Steve swung the stranger into the opposite wall, but the captain quickly realized his mistake before another move could be made.

“Nat?”

Panting a little, Natasha smiled. “Hey, soldier.”

Steve let go, and he closed his eyes with a sigh while the spy rolled her shoulders, recovering. “I could have hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t have. Besides, what’s a little tussle between friends?” She looked over at Tony and nodded her head. “Stark.”

Tony, who didn’t have time to even process the two second fight before him before he knew all was well, eased his stance and gave a casual gesture of greeting, as if he were hosting one of his dinners. “Romanoff. Welcome to the party.”

“Some party.” Natasha looked around, then looked back up at Steve. “Looks like you’re doing okay.” She gestured to his injuries.

“Yeah, you too.”

Natasha had some scarring, a little more pronounced than Steve’s, but not too severe. She had cuts on her chin, beneath her hairline, and across her cheek. Some bruising here and there. But other than that, she looked okay. “It’s a good thing we’re in the dark,” Natasha said with a small smirk. “Who knows what I’d look like in the light of day.”

“Yeah, I bet you look terrible now,” Steve said, sarcasm prevalent. He finally allowed himself to return the small smile.

“Ugh...sorry, I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Tony said, sauntering past the two. “We can chat and swap stories on the way. Oh, and I’m also fine, thanks for asking.” Steve and Natasha shared another glance before following the billionaire.

On they crept, silently listening, watching.

“What else did you find on the way here?” Steve asked Natasha after a short while.

“So far, nothing. I woke up in a room, might as well have been a supply closet. The door was practically open for me. Been walking for about ten minutes before I ran into you boys.”

“Hmm. About the same for us,” Tony said. “One minute, I’m relaxing in the back of my Audi, enjoying a bottle of Bourbon in Paris...the next thing I know, I’m on a cold hard floor in a big white room, with nothing but Uncle Sam to keep me company.” He looked back to Steve. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ve woken up next to worse.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“And I also see they’ve given you some new digs,” Tony said.

Natasha’s outfit was simple enough, though not nearly as laid back as Steve and Tony’s. A spring green military jacket, a black tank top, and jeans. It was Natasha at her most casual, to the extent of their knowledge, at least. These people had done their research. But it now seemed that they had showcased their one flaw, and it was rather reassuring.

No one really knew how Natasha Romanoff wore in her absolute moments of comfort, or what she slept in. Clint probably didn’t even know, and they were thick as thieves. These people were know-it-alls, but they were not all knowing.

Natasha tugged at her jacket sleeve. “It’s sort of cute, I’ll give them that. Oh, and they left me this baby.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small switch blade knife. Steve and Tony stared in a moment of surprise, but continued their stride.

“Why didn’t I get one?” Tony muttered, putting on an offended tone.

“They must know I like to accessorize.”

“But a switchblade?” Steve said.

Natasha shrugged and pocketed it away. “Might come in handy later. But what interests me is that they put the two of you together.”

Steve looked at the back of Tony’s head, but the shorter man made no comment. “What do you remember?” He asked Natasha. “About the crash? My mind goes blank whenever I try to think about it.”

“Not much.” Her eyes scanned the next passage as they moved on. “We were on autopilot...at some point, the Quinjet went dark. All communications were down. I don’t even remember hitting the water, but...afterwards, I remember looking out the window and seeing figures. When they got closer, I could see they were wearing some sort of strange scuba gear. My mind clocked out after that.”

The other two were silent, quietly ruminating on what they just heard. Just who were they dealing with, here?

The three continued on, and for a little while, it seemed like they were sure to find nothing and arrive nowhere. But then, the scenery started changing. The walls greyed out, and the overhead lights sharpened into harsh rectangles. From then on, the pathways seemed more...sleek. Sophisticated. No more foreboding than an elaborate office building.

The three exchanged raised eyebrows, but didn’t stop. In fact, they went a little faster. It was a lot brighter now, and their scars were starting to look translucent. Before long, they came to a large open space that somewhat reminded them of a recreational room. Empty of course.

But something instantly drew their attention—large black double doors. Each door yielded two rectangular windows, which were covered with tiny little diamond grids. It seemed dark and dim on the other side, and they could hear some noises.

“What do we think?” Steve asked grimly.

“I think you’re about ready to go in,” Tony said. “Might as well back you up.”

“Guess that makes three yeses,” Natasha said, and they advanced.

Steve pushed open the doors, and they stopped short upon entering. The room opened into a circumferenced space, much bigger than the recreational room. It was somewhat dim again, and the floor was made of metal. If Steve, Tony, and Natasha were to go directly straight, they would enter in what looked to be another passage up ahead (Though it was unclear where it lead). But on either side of the room, there were chambers, small chambers walled up with glass.

Bucky was in one of them.

And so was Sam, right next door. And to Sam’s left, Clint. And finally, on the other side, sat Wanda.

No one spoke at first. Everyone stared at one another. “Well,” Tony finally said. “This is awkward.”

Sam sat on the floor in front of his cot, his elbows resting casually on his propped up knees. He smiled wryly up at Natasha as she approached. “Funny. I thought I told you to take care.”

“And I thought I told you to stay safe,” Natasha replied. Nearing closer, she examined the key pad in front of Sam’s chamber. There was one for each cell. The key pads were also positioned outward and at an angle, so that the prisoner could see it. “You wouldn’t happen to have the password, do you?”

“Afraid not.”

Steve stopped in front of Bucky’s chamber. “Bucky, how did...you’re supposed to be in—”

“Zurich,” Bucky said. He inclined his head and clicked his tongue a little. “Yeah, I...think that the Intel we got may have been a...false lead.”

Steve exhaled humorously, then furrowed his eyebrows. Bucky’s metal arm was on the floor, which had a strange, cold looking surface. He could hear it hum, even from the outside. “It’s some kind of magnet,” Bucky said. “Couldn’t get it free no matter what.”

Steve nodded. “Stand back.”

Bucky did so, and turned around. Steve hit the glass with as much force he could muster—but the glass stayed put. He hit it again, with his fists, feet, and elbows. But in the end, he couldn’t make so much as a dent, or crack. Panting, he stared up at the transparent wall in wonder. “That’s some really tough glass.”

“Yep,” Bucky said, probably having made his peace hours ago.

Steve went around and tried the others, just to be sure, but yielded nothing. His hand rested on the glass of Sam’s chamber, and he sighed.

“Good try,” Sam said.

Steve glanced at him apologetically, but Sam shrugged in a hey, what are you gonna do sort of way.

Tony had strolled along behind the captain, inspecting all the key pads closely. He caught Clint’s eyes as he neared. “Wow,” Clint said. “What happened to your face?”

“Aw. Worried about me, Barton?”

“Hardly.” He sighed, leaning both hands on the glass. “Well, isn’t this a lovely little dose of Deja vu?”

Something in Tony’s eyes sobered, and he shook his head. “Not so lovely.” He bent down a little and looked at Clint’s key pad. It appeared, like all the others, that some of the code had been filled in on both ends. Clint’s read:

P _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ F

Natasha appeared beside Tony. “Hey, Clint.”

“Hey, Nat.”

Her eyes started to zero in on Clint’s code, but he stopped her. “I’d get Wanda first.” He nodded his head toward the young woman across the room. “See that on her neck?”

Steve Tony and Natasha turned around. Wanda was silent, staring off into space. She had a collar around her neck, similar to the one she was forced to wear on the Raft. But upon closer inspection, there was something different about it. A dark spark of recognition flickered in Natasha’s eyes, and she went over to Wanda’s cell, muttering, “Guess I know what the switchblade is for.” She eyed the metal plate below Wanda’s chin.

“What is it?” Tony asked Clint.

“I’ve seen one of those before. It’s a suppressant, yeah, but it’s also one of those rare editions. Try to remove it before disarming it...or even nudge it to scratch...the chip inside will release enough cyanide to kill an elephant into your bloodstream. The injection is instant.”

Tony bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself to look away.

Steve bit back a curse. “Hang on, Wanda.”

Wanda didn’t respond. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Hey,” said Natasha, softly. “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?” She looked down at Wanda’s key pad.

B _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ R

The cursor blinked over the second dash. “Do you have any clue what the code could be?”

No response.

Natasha, Steve and Tony slowly circled the room, reexamining everyone’s missing codes.

For Bucky,

H _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ K

For Sam,

J _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ S

And then, of course, they had

P _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ F

for Clint, and

B _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ R

for Wanda.

The three regrouped. “So, what are we looking at here?” Tony said, crossing his arms. “There’s a myriad of possibilities as to what the codes could be. Names, Cities, Countries, Towns, you name it.”

“Normally, I’d bypass all this and just hack my way in,” said Natasha. “But I’m not gonna risk Wanda’s life. Chances are they’re watching us.”

“Without a doubt,” Steve nodded. “And who knows what would happen to them if we enter the wrong code. They could release poison gas, or cement, bury them alive. We don’t know what kind of traps they've set up, if any.”

“So let’s get this right then,” Tony said, breaking away from the huddle, and cracking his knuckles. His eyes landed on each key pad with renewed sharpness. “Let’s all review, shall we? I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and say that we’ve all been here a few days. Long enough for most of our injuries to be in the process of healing, or nearly healed altogether. These people have clearly been watching us, and I don’t mean like a casual fan, or even a super fan. They’ve been obsessed with us long enough and passionately enough to know our personal schedules. Who we talk to, where we’ve been, and where we plan on going. Oh, and also, our new outfits.” He gestured around the room.

“Every single one of us are in clothes that we’d pick out for ourselves. And not just street clothing, or uniforms or costumes. Casual wear. Clothes we wear in our personal downtime.”

Looking around, it was true enough. Clint was wearing a plaid button down on top of a dark blue t shirt, along with a leather brown jacket. Sam wore a green polo shirt with black pants. For Bucky, their captors had chosen a red Henley shirt, and a black bomber jacket. And for Wanda, a dark lined t-shirt, ripped jeans and an elongated jacket.

“What does that say about our abductors?” Tony asked.

“That they’re co*cky,” Sam said from inside his chamber. “They want us to know how far their reach is.”

Tony pointed a finger in his direction. “Bingo. These guys have big giant egos, and apparently the money to match. Now consider the lay out.” He had his arms out. “Cap and I wake up together in the same room. They could have kept us in there, but they left the door unlocked and unbolted, giving us free range. But you guys, you’re all locked up in a room that...frankly resembles the Raft. I mean…” Tony shifted his weight, and his hand fell with a smack against the side of his leg. “This is a one for one replica, you couldn’t google this. I mean, this is top secret knowledge.”

Steve frowned. “That suggests friends in high places.”

“Corruption and bribery at best,” Tony agreed before continuing. “The fact that they’ve given us both the freedom to walk around and the option to free the rest of you, would mean that they’ve assigned us special responsibility. Maybe even appointed blame.”

“For the Accords debacle?” Natasha asked.

“More than likely.”

“But what about Nat? She’s out and about too,” Clint said, without the slightest trace of resentment. “You saying they’re blaming her too?”

“I did sort of switch sides at the last minute,” Natasha said. “I didn’t exactly help matters.”

“True,” Tony said, and he and Natasha both exchanged a half sarcastic glance. “But you didn’t make matters that much worse, either. Damage had been done by then...but I digress.”

“If they think you three hold responsibility, then what does that make us?” Sam said, a little annoyed. “Collateral damage? Helpless victims?”

“Well, no, not exactly.” Tony began to circle the room again. “Check out these key pads. They’re all...sticking out, which is not all that common for a cell. If these people saw you as collateral damage, it would have been flat up against the door.” He patted the space against Clint’s glass. “But they let you see the code, they want you to see the code. They’re giving you some sort of autonomy, which also suggests blame...if not the Accords, then for something else.”

The room quieted for a moment.

“Well, jeez, how much time we got?” Clint said, hands still leaning against the glass. “We’ve all done things we’re not all that proud of.”

“Some more than others,” Bucky murmured, and nodded to himself. Steve looked at him unhappily.

“That’s an understatement,” Tony said, still moving. “We’re the Avengers, not the Avenging Angels. At some point in time, or several points in time, we’ve all had our hands in the mud. We’ve all sinned…” Tony trailed, frowning, as if he was still in the process of working it out himself.

The others remained silent, knowing better than to interrupt when Tony was on a roll.

“But we’ve gotta step back and look at things from our captor’s perspective. These codes each have one sentence, or maybe one word...maybe one name.”

“The ultimate wrong,” Natasha said quietly.

Tony nodded.

“So the question is, what...or who have we wronged the most?” Sam said.

Tony paused by Bucky’s chamber and looked the winter soldier in the eye. They held each other’s tense and quiet gaze. “Who indeed?” Tony said softly. His eyes landed on Bucky’s keypad. Suddenly, his hand reached out.

“Tony—” Steve began, but Tony had already began punching in the code. His thumb pressed each key with some force. He finished the last letter with a flourish.

Bucky’s mouth formed into a grim line when he saw what had been put in:

H O W A R D S T A R K

A cheerful beep sounded, followed by a hard click and a whoosh of decompression. Tony opened Bucky’s door. Steve’s mouth opened, and the low humming from the floor stopped. Slowly, Bucky bent down and picked up his metal arm. “Presto,” Tony said, and turned away.

There was no time for anyone to gather their bearings. The ones free went to tend to the entrapped. Natasha reappeared in front of Wanda’s chamber. Her eyes ran over the missing code, and her chest rose and fell. “This means nothing, Wanda.”

She punched in the code.

B R U C E B A N N E R

There was a beep, and the door opened. Right away, Natasha stepped inside and went to work on the collar. There was no point in telling her to hold still—Wanda didn’t so much as twitch a muscle the entire time. But her eyes did linger on her code.

“The mechanism’s armed,” Clint said. “Your best bet is to sever the link to the relay board—”

“I know what I’m doing, Clint,” Natasha murmured as she nudged open the metal plate with the knife. Her eyes were laser focused.

Steve went to Sam. “I think I already know,” Sam said, arms folded. His eyes held a melancholic acceptance. He turned his head away. “Go ahead.” Steve’s heart went out to him.

J A M E S R H O D E S

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Not your fault.”

“Not yours, either.”

Bucky frowned a little in front of Clint. “I don’t really know you all that well, so I have no idea what your code is.”

Clint’s eyes were serious. “Don’t worry. I do.”

P I E T R O M A X I M O F F

Natasha, still working with Wanda’s collar, glanced over briefly. “Bastards,” she murmured. Very carefully, she clipped a wire and a stuttered little beep followed. “Okay, I disarmed it.”

Robotically, Wanda’s hand went up behind her neck and tore the collar off with one jerk. It clattered on the floor. “Thank you,” she said, void of emotion. Her voice was terribly scratched.

With everyone freed, the Avengers mingled back together in the center of the room. Among separate remarks and conversations, Clint went over to Wanda and took her elbow. “Hey. You okay?” Wanda’s arms had locked protectively in front of her, and her eyes remained on the floor. “Hey…”

The touch of Clint’s hand managed to change something in Wanda, and her lower lip gradually started to tremble. “I remember nothing,” she finally whispered, and Clint nodded. “Nothing except the fact that they...stabbed him with something…” Her face broke in a wave of raw emotion. “They left him for dead.”

“I know,” Clint murmured, bringing her in a hug. His hand came up against the back of her head as he held her close. “I know. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Wanda’s head buried into his shoulder. Her body trembled as she tried to keep the sobs in. “What if he is dead?” Her head suddenly lifted, and she looked horrified into Clint’s eyes. “What if they have him here somewhere? Maybe this...this place is just some kind of sick game? They could be torturing him, and we—”

“Hey. Hey.” Clint gripped her shoulders and looked her dead in the eye. “Don’t. You will drive yourself crazy with what ifs. That’s what they want. And even if they do have Vision, and this is part of their sick twisted game….we’ll deal with it. Together.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly. “Okay?”

Wanda’s jaw still wobbled and trembled, but she nodded with new resoluteness. “Okay,” she said softly.

Meanwhile, Steve spoke closely with Tony. “But it doesn’t make much sense. What’s the point of all this? They set this up as if it were some big reveal, but we already know all these things about each other. Wanda didn’t even react to Clint’s code. Why the reminder?”

“Well, either these people just enjoy rubbing salt in our wounds,” Tony said, “Or we haven’t seen their whole plan yet. Could be just the beginning.”

“Yeah, but the beginning of what?” Steve wondered.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Steve felt himself growing more frustrated, but had to agree. Because what else was there? In any case, they couldn’t stay here. “Alright, team,” he said, grabbing everyone’s attention. He looked around at all of his teammates...particularly at Wanda's exhausted gaze, the tightness of Clint's jaw, and the heavy weight on Bucky's shoulders.

All things considered, none of them were really worse for wear, even Tony. Sam was barely injured, and Bucky and Clint only had a few bruises. Wanda had surface level scrapes. But it didn’t change the fact that most of them were tired, hungry, irritated...and...yes, Steve could admit, a little rattled. They’ve faced dangers before...they’ve been threatened, challenged, attacked, knocked down. But this...this was different. New territory. And every one of them knew it.

Looking around, though, it seemed that no one, not even Tony, was taking this lightly. Which, was a good thing. Right now, vigilance was key. Strength in numbers. If they stayed sharp and played their cards right, best case scenario would be everyone making it out in one piece. Worst case...well, they would do their best. Steve would make sure of that. Set and focused, he nodded to the group. “Let’s move out.”

They all looked towards the exit.

“What, we’re supposed to follow their rules now?” Sam asked. It wasn’t a real protest or disagreement...it was more just so that someone’s said it. It was a part of how Sam spoke his mind, as Steve had learned over the years.

“Either that or stay here,” Tony said with a shrug.

“Forget that. I’ve been holding in my bladder for two hours,” Clint said, striding forward. “I’m outta here.”

Wanda followed, then Natasha, who threw a smile over her shoulder. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, but followed two paces behind. Slowly, they all trickled out into the next hall. Tony was last out. Steve could feel the billionaire's eyes burning holes in the back of his head….him, and Bucky’s.

Rhodey burst in, slightly out of breath. “Sorry I’m late, Mr. President…” he trailed off.

The situation room was packed with people. All eyes were glued to the large screen on the right side of the room. The Avengers were on the move, into uncertain territory. Secretaries murmured to one another, and many were speaking urgently on their phones.

“Colonel Rhodes,” President Ellis said with a beckoning hand. Even in the tentative chaos, his voice was soft, as if he were calling to Rhodey in a movie theater. Ellis’s voice deepened as Rhodey put his ear next to his mouth. “I don’t think I need to stress how much we need them found.”

“No, Sir.”

“I will not have a repeat of The Mandarin.”

“Definitely not, Sir.”

“You sure you’re up for it? I know you’re tired from searching for Tony.”

“No, you can count on me, Sir, I’m all over it.”

“Good. But first I want you to see if you can get in contact with Nick Fury. I know he’s been ignoring my calls.”

Rhodey cringed internally. Unbeknownst to the President, Fury was exactly the man he’d been struggling to avoid for the past few days. But he simply said, “Yes, Sir.”

The two of them glanced back at the screen. At one point, the Secretary of State said, “What does James Barnes have to do with Howard Stark?”

Rhodey and President Ellis shared a look before Rhodey closed his eyes. “Crap.”

The next path proved modern again. Their steps echoed off against the metallic walls. Nothing else seemed to be in sight, except for the light at the end of the long, lonely stretch of tunnel. Now that the seven of them were together again, it seemed less like an invisible cat and mouse game, and more like a tense mission with no clear objective. Upper hand or no, the Avengers were still dangerous, even without weapons. Confidence aside, they were vigilant, ready, and poised for any fight. No one spoke, though Steve supposed they were loud enough.

Further along the stretch, they eventually came upon a singular door along the left side of the wall. The door was innocuous enough to almost be missed. Most of the Avengers probably wouldn’t think anything of it, if it weren't for the keypad. It was flat against the door.

The missing code read,

S _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Y

“Now, who’s this?” Sam said, and slapped against the door twice. “That’s the longest one yet. Rhodes, you in there?”

“I don’t think Rhodes would be inside,” Natasha said, eyebrows furrowed. “He would have at least been in one of our groups. It wouldn’t make sense to separate him from us.”

“And check out the door,” Clint said, running his fingers along it. “Look familiar?”

“Vibranium,” Steve murmured. “They...they can’t have Bruce in there, could they?”

Natasha blinked at the mention of Bruce, but betrayed nothing else.

“No way, ceiling's too low,” Clint said. “Unless they plan to take us all out in a cave in.”

“Maybe, the Ant guy?” Bucky suggested. “What’s his name, Smitty…?”

“Scott,” Sam said. “And I’m pretty sure they don’t need Vibranium to detain him. “Take away the suit, and he’s just a regular guy.”

“What, like you?”

“Ohh, you got jokes now?”

Bucky gave a small smile. “A few.”

“Then who else?” Clint said, still laser focused on the door. “They can’t have gotten to King T’Challa?”

“No way, not him,” said Bucky. “Wakanda is a force, it would take an alien army to storm that place...and I don’t think their reach is as far as they’d like us to think it is.”

“And Vision’s...not exactly fit for action,” Natasha said, looking sideways at Wanda, who lingered in the back of the group with her arms folded and eyes averted. She didn’t seem to keen on participating. “And how do we know its an ally? Could be the bad guys.”

“No,” said Steve. “These guys like drama. If they were to make an entrance, they’d want to do it big.”

“Then I don’t get it,” Clint said. “If not Rhodes, or Vision, or even Scott Lang, then who? Who else are we missing?”

There was a change in the air, a sudden thought, really. Simultaneously, they all turned to Tony, whom they all realized hadn’t said a single word since they came upon the door.

Tony was staring hard at the keypad, and Steve was taken aback at the sudden transformation in his eyes. He...he looked unsettled. More than unsettled, upset. His posture was rigid, his mouth in a flat line. They stared at him, and the longer the silence lasted, the more concerning it got. “Tony,” Steve started, but Tony suddenly barged through them. “Wait—”

Tony ran a quick type on the keypad. His fingers (which actually trembled a little) went at a speed that Steve and the others had never seen before. The code read:

S T A T E N I S L A N D F E R R Y

The keypad beeped.

Tony yanked open the door and entered before anyone else could stop him. Steve was quick to follow. “Tony!”

The room inside was no more interesting than the one Steve and Tony woke up in, though there were a couple of exceptions. It was a little smaller, and there had been a cot placed in the corner. Problem was, there wasn’t a single person inside, save for Tony.

“Tony,” Steve repeated, but the billionaire was not looking at him, or anything else at ground level. He was glaring up at the ceiling. Steve followed his gaze and started back a little. Okay, scratch that. There was someone here.

As multiple footsteps sounded behind him, Steve stared up at the familiar man in the red and blue suit, who had wedged himself up against the ceiling corner. Judging by the widened mechanical eyes, their new guest seemed just as shocked as they were.

“Mr. Stark!”

Chapter 4: Not In Kansas Anymore

Chapter Text

“Mr. Stark,” Spider-Man repeated, and Steve and the others stood back a little as the webbed hero jumped down and landed with perfect precision in front of them. “Holy cow,” he breathed, “You will not believe what’s happened. First there was this fire, right? And there was smoke, tons of smoke, and no one could see a thing, and everyone was freaking out, which made me almost freak out, it was crazy. But I think I got everyone out, and I even saved a baby—wait, are those the Avengers?”

He took in a sharp gasp before anyone could confirm. “Holy cow! What are you guys doing here? I mean—not that I’m not glad to see you. I mean, if anyone were to come through that door, I’m really glad it turned out to be...especially you, Mr. Stark. Hey, what happened to your face? Are you okay?”

Tony was silent. He hadn’t moved an inch, not even when Spider-Man had dropped down directly in front of him, which would jar anyone. His eyes still had that hard stare, which practically bore its way past Spider-Man’s mask.

Steve looked back and forth between the two. “Tony?”

He didn’t respond. The air grew uncomfortable. Spider-Man’s energy diminished a little, and he seemed to grow uncertain under the man’s gaze. “Um...Mr. Stark?”

Tony stood there and blinked several times at the young man before he finally spoke, quietly. “Are you hurt?” Spider-Man’s mechanical eyes blinked before he shook his head. The billionaire nodded, curtly. “Okay. Good. Now how are you here?”

“I—uh—I’m sorry?”

“I mean,” Tony said, raising his volume just a little, “How did you get here. What do you remember.”

“Oh. Well, not that much really. I mean, there was this fire.”

“Yep. Right, you established that. Take me back a little.” He gestured with his hand. “Start at the beginning, tell me who what and where.”

“Oh. Okay, uhh, I was just coming back from my last day of…” he glanced over at the others. “...work.”

The Avengers shared strange looks. Sam hid his mouth behind his hand. “And me and my….associate...we were just heading to Delmar’s to grab something to eat. Then people started running and acting crazy, and I knew something was up.”

“The fire, was it close?” Tony asked, arms folded and serious.

“...Yeah, it was really close. Hey, how’d you know?”

“Lucky guess. Go on, what happened next?”

“Well, when I got there, I pretty much went in and started grabbing people. It’s a good thing you built in that filtration system, otherwise I probably would’ve keeled over the first few trips. I pretty much got everyone out by the time the fire department came...at least, that’s what I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I heard this scream. Pretty much everyone heard it, but it was weird, since Karen said that there weren’t any heat signatures left. I went up to check anyway. I followed the voice, and…” Spider-Man paused, then shook his head. “Well, I don’t remember anything else. Next thing I knew, I woke up here.”

Tony stared at the floor for a few moments, then sniffed and turned to face the corner wall. He paced a little, with one hand on his hip and another running through his hair. It seemed as if he were having a private meeting with himself. He sighed, and Steve was surprised at how burdened it sounded. “You...should not be here.” He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, but there was a threatening undercurrent to it. And it wasn’t directed toward Spider-Man.

“Well, technically, none of us should,” Sam said, one finger scratching at his ear.

But Spider-Man’s shoulders hitched. “Wait, what do you mean?” He looked around at everyone’s faces. “You mean this isn’t some weird hazing ritual or something?”

Clint snorted. “If we wanted to initiate you, don’t you think all of this is just a little bit elaborate?”

“Then...then...okay, should we be worried? Where are we? What is this place?” He twisted around to face Tony. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony sauntered back to the young man’s side, hands in his pockets. He still seemed to be half in thought. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

There was a brief pause before Spider-Man’s hands flew to his head. “You mean we’re kidnapped? Like, actually kidnapped!? All of us?”

“Yes, but there’s no need to panic,” Steve supplied, hands on his hips. He nodded in reassurance to the young man. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Yeah, but…” Spider-Man turned back to Tony. “Mr. Stark, Ned was with me. He was close by, he...they wouldn’t—” His breathing increased. “And May, what about May? What if—”

“Hey. No. Listen.” He came in close, and made sure that Spider-Man was looking directly at him. “Okay? They don’t want Ned, you understand? They won’t touch him.” He emphasized with the pinch of his fingers. “Alright? You were the one they were after, no one else. And as for May, she’s safe. Much safer than we’re probably about to be.”

“You’re sure?” Spider-Man asked tentatively.

“Look around you, see any regular Joes? Yeah, just—just ignore Barton and Wilson for a second and look at everyone else. You’re surrounded by some of the most powerful super humans on earth, yourself included. If they wanted anything to do with Ned or May, they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of isolating you.” He dropped his hand to the young man’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “Trust me. They’re good. Worried sick for you, probably, but good.”

Spider-Man regarded him for a long moment, then started nodding. “Okay,” he said softly.

“Okay?” Tony returned the nod and gave his shoulder two pats. “Now come on. We could use your help.” He steered Spider-Man towards the group, though Steve could tell there was some reluctance there.

“Yeah, the more the merrier,” Clint said, and turned to the others. “Seriously, what’s the point of all this? What’s their end goal?”

“And why does web head get to keep his suit?” Sam said, nodding towards the approaching newcomer.

Spider-Man shrugged. “I dunno. I just got here.”

“Oh, kid,” Tony said suddenly, snapping his fingers. “Your suit still working?”

“Yeah.”

“You try calling for help?”

“Uh, yeah...I mean, yes, Sir. I tried calling you, like, a dozen times. I tried for May, Ned, the police, anybody. But Karen said there was no signal—something’s hindering her sensors.”

“So no way to find out our location or send a distress signal?” Spider-Man shook his head, and Tony sighed. “Wonderful.”

“Who’s Karen?” Bucky asked, eyeing the four walls in confusion.

“My suit lady.”

“Suit lady?” Sam repeated, eyebrows raised. “What is she, like a FRIDAY mini-me?”

“Well no...I mean, sort of. She’s more of a….distant cousin?” He looked to Tony for confirmation, but Tony had merely closed his eyes in vain search of inner peace and solitude.

“Look, enough chit chat boys,” Natasha said, and she seemed to be resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “If we want answers, we might as well keep moving.”

There were no arguments to that, and the group started to file out of the room. Wanda, who had been merely hovering by the doorway, went first, still in a cloud of her own quiet sorrows.

Spider-Man had started forward, but was stopped by Tony’s arm out in front of his chest. The young man looked up in question, but his mentor gave a warning in his eye to wait. Steve didn’t have to wait long to see why.

Bucky had passed by with a mere glance toward them before heading out the door. Once he was clear and far ahead, the billionaire lowered his arm. After waiting a moment, Tony turned to Spider-Man and lowered his voice. “Listen. Just stick close, okay?”

Spider-Man nodded. “Okay…” then he seemed to perk up, and said in soft excitement, “I held a baby, Mr. Stark. It was like holding a little football, it was awesome. And her mom...you should’ve seen her face, Mr. Stark. She was so happy.”

Tony rolled in his lips in a shell of a smile. Once again, he gave Spider-Man’s shoulder two pats, as if he were transferring all of his remaining strength into the young hero. “Yep,” he nodded, “Good. Good work, kid.”

Spider-Man’s toes bounced a little at the praise. Steve walked out of the room then. He pretended not to hear the entire conversation, but he was listening, thoughtfully.

The walk down the corridor resumed. For the following ten minutes, everything proved to be the same. Same long hallway, same metallic echoes, same dim light at the end of the long stretch. No change.

Well, save one.

“So,” Spider-Man piped, his high and warbled voice bouncing off the walls, “What if this is all just a big test? Or maybe a fight to the death thing?”

Sam’s flat voice answered, “If it were, then why would the bad guys be leaving you the suit, while the rest of us don’t have any weapons?”

“Well...I mean, I don’t have my web shooters.” Spider-Man held up his wrists. “And maybe the weapons come later. Maybe they’ll be in a big pile somewhere, like in the Hunger Games.”

“Hunger Games?” Bucky mumbled.

“Yeah, remember? They all stand on these metal plates, and they kinda pull them up out of the ground and—ohhhh, you’re Mr. Barnes. You’re from the 30’s or something, right? Don’t worry, I got you.”

And so Spider-Man preceded to launch into the whole story, starting from a young woman named Katniss Everdeen and her hunting days.

Steve, having found himself at the back of the group, tried to hold in his laughter. Even if they had been trying to maintain the element of surprise, it was out the window now. He remembered admittedly little about the young hero from when they met last, but he hadn’t forgotten how chatty he was.

Natasha appeared next to him, and if Steve weren’t so used to her presence, he would have jumped. She hadn’t lost her touch when it came to sneaking up on people. “So what do we think of our friend?” she asked, though she sounded just as amused as he was.

Steve briefly tilted his head to the side. “He's still got spirit, that's for sure.”

“So you think he’s okay?”

“You tell me, you were teammates once.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t really stop to chat or anything. In fact, Tony made sure we barely spoke. Kept him close to the vest until it was time to intercept you.” She looked ahead and studied Tony. The billionaire still walked with his usual swagger, but you could tell that his mind was heavily preoccupied. “He’s pretty up in arms when it comes to him, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Steve agreed. “Maybe he feels responsible for him.”

“Or he’s hiding something.”

“That too.”

Truth was, there was a storm of questions and mysteries swirling about in Steve’s mind, and they all concerned Spider-Man. His suit, for starters. Their abductors made a point to dress the rest of them as casually as possible, in order to flaunt what they knew about them. Not so with Spider-Man, who was fully suited. Why was that?

Surely it wasn’t because they respected his hidden identity. And there wasn’t any particular reason that Spider-Man should receive special treatment from them, at least as far as Steve knew.

Maybe it was intentional, a ploy to build up mistrust between them. Granted, Steve did have his suspicions at first, but he also had an instinct about people. And right now, in this moment, Steve couldn’t bring himself to fully distrust Spider-Man. Not yet, at least.

And then there was Tony. One minute he was himself...alert, focused, co*cky. And the next...it was like someone had thrown him for a loop, and he still seemed like he was trying to find his balance. Tony tried hiding it, but they had seen.

From the moment he opened Spider-Man’s door, the billionaire had seemed...lost. Angry. Secretive.

It was clear that Spider-Man was in no hurry to reveal who he was under the mask, but Steve only grew more curious. Just who was he, and what exactly was the relationship between him and Tony?

There wasn’t time to dwell on these questions, of course, but Steve would file them away for later.

The soldier pulled himself back from his own personal musings in time to hear Spider-Man talking about the fight in Berlin.

“So, no hard feelings?” he asked Sam and Bucky as they continued on. “I mean, for the airport and all.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“Uh—well, you know, throwing things at you, gumming up your wings, webbing you guys to the ground. It wasn’t personal, y’know?”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Sam said. “Do you, Barnes?”

Bucky shook his had slowly. “Can’t say I do.”

Spider-Man started. “What? No, remember? I tackled you guys! And I said, ‘ You have the right to remain silent,’ and you said, ‘Usually there’s not that much talking in a fight’, and then I said, ‘ Hey, I think you lost this!’ and you, Mr. Barnes, you swung a punch at me with your metal arm, but I caught it, and—”

“Sorry, kid,” Sam said. “There was a lot going on that day, and I had a lot on my mind. And I’d like to think that I’ve got a good memory, so..”

“Yeah,” Bucky finished, a shrug in his voice.

Spider-Man’s shoulder’s deflated a little. “Oh, that’s...no, yeah, that’s fine, cool.” Steve then caught the subtle smirk that Sam shared with Bucky. Tony cleared his throat, and the younger hero took it as a sign to increase his distance between himself and the men he had been conversing with. “But anyway,” Spider-Man continued, “With all the heroes here in once place and everything, they could be planning to sixty-six us.”

“I think you mean eighty-six, squirt,” Tony said.

“No, I mean, order sixty-six. Like, from Revenge of the Sith? You know that part—” He put on a terrible deep throaty voice, “‘Execute ordah sixty-six.’ ‘It will be done my lord,’ ” Then he fashioned his arms into a long armed gun and started blasting. “Chuchuchuchuchu! And they killed all the Jedi, even the Younglings. Well, not all of the Jedi, but—”

“Please tell me we’re almost there,” Clint broke in, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

Clint was in relative luck.

While Spider-Man had been yammering on, the floor below them began to slope gradually, and the ceiling had risen until it was well over 40ft high. Along the left side, the smooth wall had broken up into a series of enormous steel panels that seemed to continue on into the darkness of the hall. Along these panels, a fairly large steel door produced itself, along with a comparatively tiny keypad.

The code:

J _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ G

“Looks like Bruce,” Tony muttered.

“They really went all out, didn’t they?” Sam said. He sounded like he was starting to get angry.

With terse lips, Steve stepped forward and put in the code.

J O H A N N E S B U R G

“This is really starting to get redundant,” Clint said as the keypad beeped.

“Wait, how’d you know what code to put in?” Spider-Man asked. “Did everyone else have a code? Did I have a code?”

“Yes, Underoos, you did,” Tony said, rubbing at his chin with a half-patient sigh.

“What did mine say?”

“None of your beeswax.” With the same breath, he said to the others, “There’s no telling what kind of state he’s in. And I don’t think it’d be a good idea to...overwhelm him.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ll go.”

Looking at her, Steve knew she was the only one for the job. Still he asked, “You sure? I could go with you.”

“I’ve got it,” she replied, already advancing. “Won’t be but a minute. Feel free to standby, though.” There was a visual agreement among the circle, and Natasha pulled the door open.

No sooner had she gone in, Tony turned to Spider-Man. The billionaire gave off an air that was so stern, the young hero immediately stood to attention. With a hard face and firm mouth, Tony said warningly, “Tune out.”

Spider-Man gulped and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Sam looked in between them. “Tune out?”

Tony wagged his index finger back and forth next to his ear. “Super hearing.”

Steve co*cked his head. “Really?”

“Yes, Sir...Captain America...sir.” He saluted a little nervously. “About, several meters, give or take.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm. What else can you do?”

A silent, quiet groan rippled throughout the group as Spider-Man kick started his list of abilities.

Natasha faced Bruce with her upper back leaned against the door. They had him in the middle of the room, on his back, and on a gurney. He was unconscious.

She stared a moment, thinking. This was a space in time, she knew, that wouldn’t come along again, not for a long while. A moment to herself, to take stock, to reflect. To theorize.

It was clear that they were being tested on something, but there was no telling what it could be.

Some time earlier, she thought it might have been courage, or honor, or strength. Maybe it was righteousness or sense of justice, if the keypad thing was anything to go by. But that wouldn’t explain why she, out of all the Avengers, was left without a code. But now, looking at Bruce, Natasha saw what her personal test was. At least, in her mind.

Endurance.

Endurance of what, she didn’t bother trying to clarify or put her finger on. Her heart seemed to land on the word. Endurance. As she finally neared closer, she didn’t know whether or not if she would pass, or fail. But even so, Natasha Romanoff never backed down from a challenge.

Hovering over Bruce now, she let her eyes roam over his form. He hadn’t changed much, physically. Maybe a tad bit leaner than when she saw him last. Her fingers briefly ran through his wild and unkempt hair, which now had a few streaks of grey.

Bruce was dressed comfortably in a smart purple button down shirt, brown pants, and a dark blazer. It was a tad bit dressy considering the usual pattern, but Natasha knew it was the style that Bruce typically preferred, no matter what he was doing.

Next to the gurney was a simple stool with a metal plate on top of it. The metal plate displayed a vial and syringe. Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed as she picked up the post-it note attached to the vial. All it said was:

Wakey Wakey :)

Her still furrowed gaze went back and forth between the note and Bruce. Then, with a decided frown, she put down the note, picked up the syringe, and withdrew the contents from the vial.

Then, taking his forearm, she flicked the needle, inserted it, and plunged.

It only took seconds.

Bruce’s eyes fluttered open, and he winced at the bright light overhead. “Ahh,” he groaned, his body curling upward along with his hands.

“Morning,” Natasha said, putting the instruments away.

Bruce did a sluggish double take as he tried to rub his eyes. “N...Nat?” He blinked at her repeatedly as if she were a hallucination. “What are...what are you doing here? Wait, what am I doing here?”

“Hard to say, but my guess is that it’s work related.” Natasha tried smiling. She gave Bruce’s mind a moment to catch up, and when it did, the doctor groaned even louder. He laid back against the gurney and ground his palms against his eyes. “I’m sorry, Bruce,” she said softly.

His hands stilled against his eyes, and he said quietly, throatily, “Yeah, me too.”

Natasha waited patiently as Bruce gathered his bearings. Then he sighed and began to sit up, slowly. His hands pressed gingerly against the gurney, and he looked around the room...it was just as dull and empty as the others, if not much, much bigger. “Where are we?”

"No idea. Nothing concrete, anyway. What do you remember?”

“I…” Bruce turned his head to face her, and he looked into her eyes for the first time. His pupils wavered a little, and his head twitched, the way it often did when he noticed something. “...You dyed your hair.”

Natasha took a subtle deep breath and smiled. “Yep.”

“It looks nice.”

“Thank you.”

He gazed at her appreciatively a little longer before he refocused himself. His eyes fell to his lap, and he tried to remember. “I was...I was delivering a baby. It went well, I think, the delivery. Then these guys came…” His forehead pinched and he shook his head. “Something told me they weren’t SHIELD, or even the government.”

“Hmm. They took you out?”

“...No...I think I took myself out, actually. I turned green, I was growing, and then...then I thought about the baby, and the mom and dad behind me. I don’t know how, but...I stopped. More than stopped, I went back to me.”

Natasha stared. “You went back? Even though you were already green?”

“Yeah...yeah I think so.”

“Bruce, that’s...that’s incredible. I mean...wow.”

“Wow’s right. I couldn’t believe it myself, although I didn’t really have time to. I blacked out, my body couldn’t take it.”

“But you did it. And you survived. That’s a serious accomplishment.” She caught his gaze, not allowing him shrug it off. “You should be proud.”

Bruce’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His arms wrapped around himself in an awkward hug. He looked away. “So who else is here?”

There was a slight pause, a silent reprimand from Natasha for changing the subject. She switched gears regardless. “Question is, who isn’t?” She had moved toward the other end of the gurney. Crossing her arms, she turned and leaned back against it. “Let’s see, there’s Steve, Tony, Sam, Clint….Wanda…”

Something in Bruce’s eyes darkened a little. “As in Wanda Maximoff.”

“Yes.”

He lowered his head with an empty nod.

“And there’s Barnes..”

He looked back up. “Who?”

Natasha glanced at him sideways, and she briefly weighed the pros and cons before ultimately deciding on...“New guy.” Bruce would have to be filled in later, if later even came. “Oh, and Spider-Man.”

“Spider what?”

“Spider-Man, he’s...also a new guy, I guess. He’s some sort of protege of Tony’s. But now it seems he’s with us.”

“Does he...have like...like eight legs, or—”

“No,” she chuckled. “No, nothing like that. But who knows what else, he might be self conscious. He’s covered head to toe. He’s got a good sense of humor, though.”

“Hmm.” Bruce’s mind seemed far away now. Natasha pushed off the gurney and smoothed her jacket. With the movement, Bruce suddenly noticed the metal tray. “What’s this?”

“It was here with you. Helped wake you up.”

“So you knew what it was?”

“No.”

Bruce was incredulous. “Our abductors put a strange vial of liquid on a table, you don’t know what it does, and you just shoot me up with it?”

“If they wanted to kill you, they would have done it already.”

“No, but it could have been literally anything else! An enhancement, a tracker, sodium pentothal—”

“Sodium pentothal? Truth serum?” She almost laughed.

Bruce fidgeted. “I mean, you never know.”

Natasha was half tempted to touch the side of his face. Instead, she settled for patting his knee. “It’s good the have you back, Bruce. You ready to do this?”

“No, but when do I ever get what I want?” Natasha nodded and assisted Bruce off of the gurney. Now standing, he patted his chest and pulled a face. “What...huh.” He pulled a folded pair of glasses from his front shirt pocket. They were exactly his prescription. “That’s interesting.”

Natasha only took a moment to look at the spectacles. “Indeed. Shall we?”

Bruce refolded the glasses and put them back in place. He followed her out without so much as a look back.

“Well, that was...tender.”

Paul Brewster smiled over at his sister. Janice had just got back from her sophom*ore year at college and had come back home for the summer. “Well, he does look kinda pathetic,” he replied.

“No, I don’t mean that,” said Janice. She had grabbed a soda can and plopped onto the sofa next to him. “I could be wrong, but...it actually looks like they might be...you know, together.”

Paul snorted, loudly. “What? Black Widow and Bruce Banner, in a relationship? Yeah, right!”

“Why, what’s so funny about that?”

“I mean...well, look at him, he’s a...a nerd!”

“What are you, sixteen? Plus, if you haven’t noticed, nerds run pretty much everything now. And anyway, didn’t you see the way she looked at him? The way he looked at her? C’mon, open your eyes.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Janice rolled her eyes at him, and the two relaxed on the couch. Paul munched on his chips.

“You’ve been watching this all day?” Janice asked.

“Well, there’s nothing else on. ‘S pretty stupid, but I got nothin’ else to do.”

“Mmhm,” She reached over and grabbed a handful from his bag. “Well, whoever this Maestro is, I’m gonna kill him. I’m missing the Bachelorette for this.”

Tony and the others turned as the door opened. “Bruce,” he greeted as he and Natasha neared.

Bruce latched on to Tony’s face. “Yo Adrien,” he replied, and his eyes held some concern.

He moved closer to take a better look, but Tony stopped him with a hand to the shoulder. “I know. It’s a good thing I still have my personality.” Bruce smiled in an ironic way, and Tony gave his shoulder a shake. “Good to see you, Doc.”

Bruce nodded. “Yeah, you too, Tony…” he turned his head to address the rest of them, but looked no one in the eye. “...Everyone.”

Several nods went around.

" Bruce.”

“Hey, man.”

“Good to see you.”

The loose, yet protective circle that had formed around Bruce moments before had drawn in closer once it was clear that the doctor wasn’t going to freak out on them. Even the kid joined the circle, even though he didn’t know Bruce from Adam.

He was also practically vibrating with excitement. “This is so cool—you’re actually Dr. Bruce Banner!” He stopped geeking out long enough to stick out his hand. “Hey, I’m Spider-Man. It’s an honor to meet you, Sir.”

Bruce stared at the hand for a long moment before hesitatingly shaking it. “A pleasure.” Outwardly, he seemed put off and even disinterested, but Tony had known Bruce well enough to know that the doctor was still stuck in his own head.

If the kid was at all deterred by the lack of enthusiasm, he didn’t show it. “I’m a big fan,” he said as they released hands. “Especially my friend, he’d freak out if he knew I met you.”

“Yeah, that’s, that’s great.” He gave the group a quick once-over. His gaze lingered a moment on Wanda, who sat silently against the wall. They locked eyes before quickly breaking away. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We keep moving,” Steve said, nodding once.

“Yep,” Clint said as they started off. “There’s gotta be a point to this somewhere, at some time.” The annoyed edge of his voice echoed off the walls.

The loud footsteps also resumed and increased, now that they had one extra. “There’s nine of us now,” Barnes commented to Steve. “I’m not liking our odds on the other side of this.”

“Won’t be a picnic,” Steve agreed, still facing ahead.

“Dude, do not mention food,” Sam almost groaned. “I’m starving enough as it is.”

Tony looked sharply in Spider-Man’s direction. Peter’s direction. His metabolism. If Wilson, a regular man, was feeling hunger pangs, then…

The kid looked studiously in the other direction. Tony could have kicked himself. Of course the kid wouldn’t say anything. It was his way of toughing it out in front of the other heroes. His heroes.

It had only been thirty minutes and he was already screwing up as a mentor. With another look toward the kid, Tony increased his steps and he accelerated to the front of the pack. “Let’s get this over with.” He ignored the several calls for him to slow down. Tony didn’t care what was waiting for them. Whatever their abductor’s plan was, it couldn’t have been to let them slowly starve to death. The sooner they dealt with this, the better.

Eventually, some of the others had to pick up the pace in order to catch up with him, and soon enough, their feet began to collectively thunder down the hall. “Can we maybe take...a little break?” Bruce panted. They were practically sprinting now.

“Hang in there, Banner, I’ve got a good feeling,” Tony called back.

“We could be passing someone,” Natasha chastised.

“Keep and eye out then.”

A short time passed before Peter called out, “Guys, I think I smell something! Smells like...salt water?”

“Salt water?” half of them echoed.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Clint murmured, and pumped his arms a little harder.

Tony eventually came to a stop and he leaned on his knees, breathing in and out. Steve came to an easy stop beside him. They both looked up at the giant hanger door in front of them. It seemed to be all there was, the end of the line.

As Tony caught his breath, Peter came up next to him, along with Barnes, Clint, and Wanda. Natasha came up at the rear and glanced backward at poor Banner, who was still stumbling a few yards behind. “So this is it,” Sam said. His shirt was beginning to stain at the armpits.

“For all we know it could be it it,” Clint said. “Smell that salt water?”

“Yeah, I smell it too,” Steve said.

“What, you think they’ll drown us?” Natasha said.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Clint said, leaning against the side wall.

Sam looked over at the kid. “How ‘bout you, Lassie? Get anything else?”

Peter lifted his chin as he sniffed the air. “Think I do, actually...maybe, mango? Grapefruit?”

“Sure you’re not just hungry?” Barnes asked.

“No...actually, I think I hear something too...like humming? I’m not sure.”

Bruce finally caught up. “I don’t think...they’d bring us this far...just to kill us...ahh.” He nearly fell to his knees.

Contrary to Bruce, Tony rose up to full height. “Look there.” Everyone followed his finger. Up near the top, next to the hangar and just below the ceiling, was a keypad.

“They can’t be serious,” Sam said.

“I’ve got it!” Peter sing-songed, and launched himself onto the wall before anyone could stop him. He reached the keypad in two leap-crawls and studied the code. “Okay,” he called down to them. “This time it’s got seven letters. The first one’s an S, and the last one is an A.”

“Sokovia,” everyone said in unison, save Barnes.

Peter glanced down at them a moment, then punched in the code. The final beep sounded, followed by a creak and a whir. Peter jumped back down to Tony’s side, and Tony nudged the kid behind him. The hangar slowly creaked open. The Avengers gathered in a clustered line, bracing themselves. And then--

Light.

Light burned their eyes. Hands flew up in front of faces. Heat. That came second. Not scorching, but significant enough to start sweating. Then came the wind...air, fresh air. And upon taking a deep breath, they could smell it now, in full force. Salt. Tony lowered his hands and squinted. Hot white sand surrounded them.

To their far left, they could see a field of towering bamboo. There were also random clusters of sharp black rocks with speckles of green moss staining the north side. And if they looked further on to the right, they could see a strip of blue ocean lying along the horizon.

For a moment, everyone was speechless.

Bruce found his words first. “Uh….what?”

Agitated hands worked the keyboard. “Stats, I need stats now!” Maria bellowed, and the hands worked faster.

“Ma’am, with all due respect,” said an analyst, who sounded like he was near the end of his rope. “There are over 200,000 ocean islands in the world.”

“We can narrow it down,” said Maria, all past excuses. “Throw up a list and knock it down one by one. Right now our best guess might be the Pacific Islands, we can start there.”

“That still leaves us 30,000!” someone said.

“Do it.”

All around her, people put their heads down and got to work. Maria put her hands on her hips and sighed before looking back up at the screen. Limp handed and open mouthed, the Avengers stared out at their surroundings. The broadcast had only lasted an hour and a half so far, and yet this Maestro character had managed throw the world into complete chaos.

At present, only American televisions had been affected, but now the broadcast was being streamed to other countries, and many were viewing the unfolding events online (Which apparently had been left alone). Multiple videos and clips were popping up on YouTube every few seconds, despite their many attempts to take it down.

Maria clenched her jaw. Hard to admit, but this was starting to grow beyond them. Whoever Maestro was, he was more of a problem than they first realized. And she was learning that, minute by minute.

She also learned that Bruce Banner ran like crap.

She watched as the camera panned out a little. There was a giant hole in the 2,000ft mountain they had just walked out of, and some of the heroes stopped to marvel at it when the group fanned out to observe their surroundings. Many eyes watched the screen in disbelief.

“They were in a mountain?”

“What kind of Island is this, where are they?”

“This is nuts.”

On screen, Clint knelt on one knee and gathered up the sand, running it through his fingers. Then, letting it fall, he dusted his hands off as he eyed his surroundings with a frown.

“‘Kay, Karen,” Spider-Man said, having recovered enough from his surprise to speak. “How about now?….what, what do you mean you still can’t get a signal?”

Barnes was the last one out, and as soon as he stepped out onto the sand, the hangar creaked and started to close itself. “Whoah, hey,” Tony said, but no one made a move to stop it. A low boom rumbled lowly through the air as the hangar shut with finality. They only spared the hangar door a minute before turning away. There was nothing to be done about it now.

Slowly, cautiously, and led by Steve, the Avengers began to walk across the sand and around the rocks, toward the ocean. “Where are we?” Sam said, and wasn’t that the question of the day?

“Florida maybe?” Spider-Man suggested.

“I think we’re quite a ways from Florida, kid,” Stark said, and he turned in a slow circle as they trudged on. “I’ve been to a lot of Islands, but this...this feels different somehow.”

“I don’t think sunbathing in the Bahamas and hosting beach parties is enough to make a valid assessment,” Wilson said.

“If you wanted an invitation, Wilson, just say so,” Stark replied. “I know Cindy Crawford personally, I could hook you up.”

“The woman is married, Tony,” Rogers reprimanded.

“How do you know she’s married, Cap?”

“Guys.” Natasha nodded toward something up ahead. They had rounded a corner, and the beach lay before them openly. A few yards ahead, and a fair distance away from the lapping waves, lay a large bundle. At first it looked like some strange creature, or a thick pile of seaweed, but as the camera zoomed in, Maria could see it was supplies. The heap was packed tightly together under a large black net.

“Guys,” Spider-Man said warily as they neared. “Guys, guys, guys, those are supplies, this is not good.” No one replied, but Clint gave his shoulder a light pat as he passed the young hero.

Bruce lagged behind, and he made himself fall carefully backward onto his bottom. The doctor tried to keep control of his breathing as he pulled off his shoes and socks. “Sand,” he muttered, turning one of his shoes upside down. “All in my socks, all in my shoes.”

“Bruce,” Sam called back.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

Rolling his socks into neat little balls and neatly tucking them into his shoes, Banner stood up and resumed his slow trudge to the bundle of supplies. Up ahead, Steve arrived first. He checked over the bundle himself, and he seemed to come to a good conclusion about it. “Nat, still have that knife?”

Romanoff stepped forward and began to cut her way through the net. Once it fell away, the contents of the bundle stood out more under the gleaming sun.

They all stared, and Spider-Man shook his head. “This is not good.” But even he seemed appreciative, because it might as well have been a gift from heaven.

The first thing that drew their attention was the food, snacks really. Loads of nutrition bars packed into medium-sized cardboard crates. There were also packs of crackers, fruit snacks, and jerky. The Avengers shared a look at this. It wasn’t nearly enough to fully sustain a group of nine, and certainly not enough for the enhanced on the team. There were also nine separate water canteens. They were all filled, but there didn’t seem to be any more available within the pile. Evidently, they were to find more for themselves.

Aside from the nourishment, there were other things like piles of blankets (No pillows), four packs of water-proof tarp, two first aid kits, a tool box, and comm devices. The pile also seemed to be sectioned off, one for each Avenger. Neatly folded pairs of shirts, pants, socks, undergarments, and jackets. Each article seemed to come straight out of their closet. Spider man held up a T-shirt that read: What do you do with sick chemists? Helium!

A sort of startled chuckle came from Spidey, which he quickly changed to a cough. He also noticed Rogers peering at the T-shirt from behind him, and he lowered it almost shyly. Steve simply smiled and turned his attention elsewhere.

Among the clothes, there were also two pairs of well-made sneakers for each of them, all perfectly sized to the intended wearer. There were toiletries too: Nine toothbrushes, five tubes of toothpaste, soap, shampoo, towels, shaving cream, razors, deodorant, hairbrushes, combs, and the like. Pads and tampons were also thrown in.

But the most interesting items were the weapons. Their weapons. Dual batons, and a pair of Glock 26’s for Natasha—and yes, there were her signature Widow Bite bracelets.

Submachine guns for Sam Wilson, along with his EXO-7 jet pack and wings.

A M249 SAW rifle for Barnes, along with a few grenades.

Barton was practically armed to the teeth—he had his specialized arrow quiver, a collapsible bow, a dagger, a handgun, and a retractable baton. The archer pulled back on the bow for a bit, testing the feel of it. He seemed satisfied.

Spider-Man had his web shooters back...and a mysterious metal case with a post it note on it.

Use sparingly :)

Spider-Man peeked into the case, and closed it back with a small nod.

Roger’s shield gleamed almost triumphantly in the sunlight. It was almost at the top of the pile. Steve looked Tony’s way. The billionaire was silent, but soon gave a weighted nod before turning away.

Then with a heavy but thankful smile towards Tony, Steve stepped forward and took the shield with one hand. It was a practically a reunion. Besides the shield, there were two handguns and nothing more. Cap was set regardless.

Wanda Maximoff needed no weapons, but she did find a small box of pretty rings for her fingers. She stared at them blankly.

Tony also found a suitcase, but this one was a brilliant red and gold. He furrowed his brow and laid it down on the sand, examining it. Spider-Man seemed to recognize it immediately. “Whoah—it’s like the suit that you used to fight Ivan Vanko at the Grand Prix in Monaco, right? So cool!”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Fanboy much?”

“Well...yeah,” Spider-Man replied as he watched Tony step on the heel of the case, and it opened halfway. “How could I not be?”

“Kid knows his stuff,” Tony said, and simultaneously put his hands inside the twin gauntlets that poked out. He brought it up to his chest, and the suit closed around him. It resembled his Mark 7 suit.

“How is it in there?” Steve asked.

“HUD’s good. FRIDAY, you here hon? Yikes, what happened to your voice?...I see. You feel good enough to get our location?...I see. Okay, enough. I’m gonna start calling you THURSDAY from now on if you’re gonna keep sounding like that.”

His face plate popped open. “Okay, got some good news and bad news. Apparently, someone stole one of my prototypes, and hacked FRIDAY. Suit’s still functioning, but it sounds like she’s got the flu, poor thing. Can’t call anyone either, signal’s blocked.”

“Blocked?” Clint said. “By what?”

Wordlessly, Tony turned, aimed, and fired off a few mini missiles and blasts into the sky. Some gave startled shouts as pulses of energy fireworked out of his gauntlets. Immediately, a strange purple dome appeared, and the blasts ricocheted off of it. The dome emitted a low, warped sound throughout the assault, but held strong.

Stark stopped shooting and lowered his gauntlets. “That.”

The others stared up at the dome in half bewilderment.

“So that’s what I heard before,” said Spider-Man.

Clint aimed his bow and shot at it—the arrow was zapped. Cap threw his shield—it bounced harmlessly back. Spider-Man even shot a web—it sizzled on impact. The last hope was Wanda, but she immediately cringed back in pain.

“Think the big guy could get through it?” Natasha asked Bruce.

The doctor shook his head, his eyes scanning up and down the dome hopelessly. “No, I don’t think so. It’s not like the shield outside the Hydra base in Sokovia, it’s made of different stuff entirely. This isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“FRI, power source?” Tony asked. “….I see. Well, thanks for nothing.”

“Great,” Sam said, sitting on a crate. “Now what?”

Suddenly, Spider-Man turned his head. “Wait—you guys hear that?”

The others were suddenly attentive, now that they were learning to take Spidey’s warnings more seriously. “What?” Bruce said, his head swiveling nervously from side to side. “Hear what?”

“Shhh, listen!” Sure enough, there was a faint crackling sound coming from the pile.

Tony watched as Peter hopped over the bundle. He heard the kid comment, “Hey, you guys got costumes!”

“Seriously?” said Barnes.

“Yep, everyone’s got one—except you, Dr. Banner, sorry.”

“Kid,” Tony said. “What do you hear?”

“Hang on, I got it!”

The kid came back, and he had some sort of device in his hand. The team gathered around. The origin of the noise was a standard walkie talkie. Tony took it and turned it over in his hands.

“Chh, chh,” said a voice amongst the crackling static. “Avengers, come in, Avengers! Testing, testing, 123, anyone out there! Chh, chh, over!”

The Avengers exchanged dark looks, and sucking in his lips, Tony adjusted the volume and pressed the talk button near the top. “Iron Man speaking,” he said humorlessly. “And who might you be?”

“Tony!” said the voice smoothly, as if they were on a freaking game show— “Glad to see you up and about. I trust you found the package I sent?”

“Looking at it right now. I won’t ask again. Who are you?”

“Cutting right to the chase. I like that. Alright then Tony, since you asked so nicely—Maestro will do for present.”

“Maestro?” Clint sneered.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“No it’s not,” said Peter, and Tony sent him a look.

“What do you want?” Steve cut in, right down to business. “And why did you put us on this island?”

“It’s pretty snazzy, isn’t it?” Maestro sounded smug. “The cool part is that it’s no ordinary island, oh no. It’s completely manufactured. Years ago, this was an advanced training ground for Hydra recruits.”

Barnes’ expression flickered, and Steve’s eyes hardened.

“See, Hydra wanted their soldiers to be able to adapt to more exotic environments in order to carry out special missions. Intense missions, over any sort of terrain. So they created this island. And boy, the things they put their recruits through here. Initial training, various combat scenarios, fitness, psychological conditioning, a little torture here and there...y’know, the usual. Rumor was that they even conducted an experiment or two, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“So you’re Hydra,” Steve said curtly.

Beside Tony, Peter swallowed hard, and he felt the already present anger in his chest start to rise.

“Yello,” said Maestro. “Did I say I was Hydra? I said the island was Hydra. Crank up the hearing aid, Gramps.”

“So why bring us here?” Natasha said.

“I’m holding an experiment,” Maestro replied, and there was a smile in his voice. “And I needed a few volunteers.”

“Except we’re not volunteers,” Sam said, storm faced.

“What can I say? I was too shy to ask you personally. Besides, I figured that if anyone could carry out this assignment, it would be the mighty Avengers themselves.”

“Yeah—except you made a slight miscalculation,” Tony said, and his hand gripped the walkie a little tighter. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“I didn’t miscalculate,” Maestro said innocently. “Wasn’t the fight at the Berlin airport between all of you? I’m pretty sure that that party was exclusive.”

Bruce sent a confused look Tony’s way, but he ignored it.

“Yeah but see, some of us were just plus one’s,” Tony said through gritted teeth, “Which I’m sure you would know, since you’re so keen on spying on us. You would know what bringing said plus one is a mistake, one you’ll come to regret in the near future if anything were to happen.” His voice was rising steadily now, and Tony could only imagine the looks he was getting, but couldn’t bring himself to care. The walkie was trembling, and he quickly switched it to the other hand.

“Relax, Tony. I’m sure that as long as your team sticks together, everything will turn out fine.”

Tony’s anger was nearly at its boiling point. Maestro knew exactly what he was doing, and Tony was onto him. The epiphany had come to him ever since they found the kid, and Maestro’s comment only confirmed it.

He wanted to destroy what was left of the team.

Zemo started it, Maestro would finish it.

Zemo broke the vase, but now Maestro will smash it to smithereens.

That’s why he made the codes the way they were, that’s why Barnes was here, and that’s why the kid was still in the suit. He wanted a big dramatic reveal, which was practically inbound. Peter couldn’t keep the mask on forever, and it would only be a matter of time.

How Bruce factored into the equation, he didn’t know. But the endgame was made abundantly clear to Tony. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Peter was watching, and Tony had promised himself to keep his cool for the kid’s sake.

A pair of hands suddenly snatched the walkie. “What about Vision?” Wanda demanded, making the team jump.

She had been completely silent throughout the whole ordeal...picking up Spider-Man and Bruce, running through the corridor, even stepping out onto the beach—she said not one word, nor betrayed any other emotion other than indifference. Now her face was flushed red, and her eyes were bright with fury.

The walkie shook even harder in her grip. “He was part of the team and you hurt him. Where is he? Tell me where he is, or you’re dead.” Natasha’s hands calmly reached for the walkie, but Wanda snatched it away. “He may be an android, but he is a man. You understand me? He is a man with feelings. With dreams.” Her eyes began to moisten. “If you take that away...if you take him away..”

“Miss Maximoff,” Maestro said, suddenly very serious. “I understand your frustrations. Tell you what though. If you follow my instructions, there is a good chance that you will see Vision again, in the land of the living. But only if you follow my instructions.”

The flush of red slowly drained from Wanda’s face as she stared at the walkie. “And what would that be?” Steve asked.

“Take a gander up at the mountains.” They all turned to look behind them. Way up high, far off past the trees and bamboo fields, were sharp jagged cliffs that melted into lush green mountain tops. Each layer seemed to fold on top of one another. At the very peak, a faint tower loomed.

“See that tower? That there’s your best friend. It’s one of Hydra’s beacon stations. There are three on this island. Inside, you’ll find a switch next to a red light. Flick the switch, and it’ll turn a lovely shade of green. Do exactly that for all three beacons, and the towers will triangulate a special energy pulse that will turn off the shield.”

There was a long pause. “That’s it?” Spider-Man piped up.

“That’s it,” Maestro replied. “See, this particular shield is the island’s security defense system. It helped cloak the island’s existence for decades, and can hold up against any attack. No one got in or out without say so. Of course, I took the liberty and made a few...modifications to it. Gotta keep up with the times, after all. In the old days, the beacons used to be manned 24/7 by at least three guards. You know, in order to keep security tight.”

“Sorry, but I don’t see a map anywhere,” Sam said. “How are we supposed to find the other two beacons?”

“You’ve got the tech. The Iron Man Suit, Spider-Man’s suit, even your Redwing, Wilson—they’ll help you out. Can’t send out distress signals, but they’ll be able to track down the other beacons, easy peasy.”

“Annnnd….after which, you’ll just...let us go,” said Clint, terse. “Yeah, somehow I don’t buy that.”

“Mr. Barton, I’m not a lot of things, but I am a man of my word. After you disable the shield, you’re all home free.”

“After all you’ve got on us?” Barnes said. “How stupid do you think we are?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” said Maestro. “But either way, you have no choice. I’ve given you an out, take it or leave it.”

“So, we find all three beacons,” Natasha said, and something in her voice suggested that she was choosing her words very carefully. “Flip the switch, and deactivate the shield. That’s all we have to do?”

There was an almost frightful pause, followed by a single intake of breath. “Well,” Maestro said in a strange voice, “There is a catch.”

Just then, the temperature dropped. Chills ran down Tony’s spine, and several went to wrap their arms around themselves. Alarmed, they looked this way and that, but found nothing. “What the—” Clint began, but stopped short in surprise when a visible cloud of breath left his mouth.

All around, people starred shivering, and Tony snapped his face plate back on. “FRIDAY?”

The HUD glowed back to life.

“See,” said Maestro, “What I said about the three guards earlier...that’s still kinda true. They might not be Hydra, but you’ll find that they’re very serious about protecting their tower.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony nearly barked. “Talk to me, what’s happening?”

And FRIDAY replied in a slightly nasally voice, “We’ve got incoming, boss.”

Chapter 5: Are You Not Entertained?!

Chapter Text

Business at Red Rabbit’s was good. Particularly during the summer—tourist vacations, beach parties, summer concerts…it was during this period that people from all walks of life would come flooding in for a good drink and a good time. Today, though, the bar was packed—not because drinks were half price, or because there was yet another brawl that only the cops could break up—but because of what was on T.V.

Bob Shaffer, the owner, had always taken pride in how clear the picture was on the three flat screen TVs he had purchased two years ago. He had placed them above the main counter at certain angles in front of the glass windows. Normally, he’d have the game on, and that was usually the main attraction for the customers.

But then Tony Stark appeared on screen. At first, Bob couldn’t be more irritated. He tried everything he could to get the game back; he fiddled with the wiring, plugged and unplugged, and even called the cable company (The line of course, was busy). No dice. Just Stark, and those costume-wearing bozos.

But then he started getting a few stragglers. Some had been shop owners from next door, checking to see whether if his television was acting up too. Others were tourists who were just coming back from the beach, or carnival, or party, and happened to pass by. They stood in front of the windows and watched the unfolding events with curious interest. Soon enough, people started coming in and sitting down, and half became customers, ordering a drink or two.

Before Bob knew it, he and his employees were the busiest they had been years. They were almost swamped with work.

Now, Bob decided, maybe missing the game wasn’t so bad.

The general chatter went up when Black Widow ran her fingers through Bruce Banner’s hair (Along with a few ooohs and whistles), and only grew louder when the camera swept around the Avengers as they formed a defensive circle. The sky darkened around them, and the waves, which now looked icy and cold, rolled more violently on the shore.

There wouldn’t be any time to slip into costumes. They hurriedly shoved the comm devices into their ears and tossed confirmations to one another. Wind whistled and rushed through, and Bob could only imagine how it felt on their skin.

“We’ve got eight hostiles incoming,” Iron Man said, once they were all connected. “Scratch that, twelve hostiles.”

Wanda Maximoff’s hands glowed a harsh red, as did her eyes. “Let them come,” she growled, already in search for targets.

Another round of oooohs, some sarcastic. Maximoff wasn’t liked very much, certainly not here in Miami. She was far away enough that one would feel braver taking a jab or two, but fear often drove it. Lagos still burned in everyone’s minds.

“This is insane,” said Janice, who was a regular. She looked over at Raymond, another regular. “Are we really about to watch them fight?”

“Looks like it,” Raymond replied. He then slammed a small stack of twenties on the counter. “Sixty dollars the Avengers win!”

“Oh yeah?” said another customer. “I’ll bet you seventy dollars that they lose!”

Raymond pointed a finger. “You’re on.”

“Raymond!” Janice exclaimed, “You can’t be serious! They’re probably about to die!”

“Twenty dollars that Maximoff sweeps,” said a woman from the back.

“No way, my money’s on Hulk. Thirty-five bucks!”

“Seventeen dollars, Iron Man deals the final blow.”

“Forty-five bucks Hawkeye dies first!”

“Are all of you guys forgetting Cap?”

“Bro, I’m from Queens, don’t underestimate Spidey.”

On screen, the trees of the Jungle parted. Clint fired an arrow, and it lodged in a creature’s chest. The creature, made entirely of ice, looked down in a moment of disbelief. Immediately, it reached up and snapped the tail end before letting out a ferocious roar.

Bob jumped—it was an ugly thing with little sharp spikes and claws coming out from its body. It was at least 25 feet fall, and the ground shook with every step it took. Funnily enough, it reminded him of that ice creature from that Disney movie his daughters loved so much.

The monster that Hawkeye shot charged at him. Clint rolled away just in time—he switched arrows, and shot again—this time, the arrow exploded. With a dull roar, the monster collapsed. Many more stampeded out from the trees, and Maximoff launched herself into the air.

Bob had never really been a fan of the Avengers. To him, they were glorified vigilantes who could get away with anything they wanted. They were dangerous, reckless, and constantly out of control. It almost never mattered though, mostly because they had friends in high places—mainly Stark. Drop a city from the sky? No problem. Blow up a building full of people? Send ‘em a check. Once Stark waved his wallet around, the higher ups were more than happy to turn a blind eye.

But if Bob said that he didn’t feel goosebumps in that moment, he’d be lying. Despite the oncoming chaos, the Avengers simply steeled their bodies, cracked their knuckles, and went unflinchingly into battle mode.

“Two on your right, Sam.”

“I see ‘em.”

“Watch your six.”

“Three down.”

“I had that one, Romanoff!”

“Sorry, got excited.”

“Duck!”

“Watch it!”

“My bad.”

There was a click-beep, followed by Banner’s hesitant voice. “Guys, is this a code green?”

“Not yet,” Iron Man said, raising a hand and blasting one creature away. “For one, being trapped in a dome with the Hulk isn’t something I’m in a hurry to experience—plus, that pile of supplies is all we’ve got, we can’t risk Hulk destroying it.”

“I second that,” Clint grunted, “I call dibs on at least five pieces of that beef jerky.”

"So we can even hear them over comms,” said a customer, her chin resting on one hand. “That’s kind of cool.”

“Kid, guard Banner and the supplies,” Iron Man said.

“On it!” Spider-Man trilled. Crossing his arms, he aimed two webs at an incoming monster. Then, with full force, he swung it around and slammed it against another, smashing two at once. Bruce ducked as ice shards rained down near him. “Gahh—my bad, Dr. Banner, I’ll be more careful next time!”

Bruce, still crouched, waved a hand in Spider-Man’s general direction. “That-that’s okay, thank you.” He then proceeded to crawl behind a rock pile.

After that, Spider-Man somersaulted over to the supplies, and with the rapid fire of his wrists, webbed them all down until it was a single, sticky heap on the beach. “Let’s see ‘em get through that,” he declared before moving on to the next monster.

The fight then gradually inched down the beach, away from the supplies. It was no easy maneuver, surely, but the Avengers were making it look easy.

“Man, this is it?” Sam Wilson said after a while. He fired his guns until the creature in front of him was reduced to splintered shards. “Maestro talked a big talk, but I’m getting a little sleepy over here.”

“Look,” Wanda warned, and Clint cursed. The remains of the defeated ice creatures started vibrating and trembling on the sand; then they rolled across the beach on their own accord, and reassembled until a brand new creature emerged. The new monsters looked leaner, but sharper and much more deadly.

Barnes tossed an ill-humored glance over at Wilson. “Feel awake yet?”

Wilson rolled his eyes in response and took off into the air. He was careful not to go up too high, else he’d be zapped by the dome. Iron Man and Maximoff were also cautious.

“So these guys can regenerate?” Black Widow said. She jumped onto the shoulders of one creature and fried it to pieces with the dual punch of her bracelets.

“They might not even be alive,” Captain America replied. He hurled his shield and caught it before the creature even had time to break apart. He then slid and kicked the legs from out under it once it reassembled. “Check out one of the pieces when they break apart.”

Sure enough, among the shattered remains of a monster, there was one tiny piece that glowed blue. The ice shards would quickly surround it until it built up into something completely new.

“I see it,” Tony said. “FRIDAY, target the blue stones.” The shoulders of the suit opened up, and dozens of tiny missiles flew out and collided with the hard surfaces that each stone hid behind.

The beasts collapsed, but every stone flared, and the ice seemed to rally and cling even harder, cocooning around the stones until they reinforced themselves. In just seconds, several new monsters emerged; some even had wings. “Sorry,” Tony said as the suit began to fly away. “I’m sorry—hey!”

Multiple monsters with wings went after him, and they disappeared into the trees. “Mr. Stark!” said Spider-Man, but over comms, Iron responded, “Banner, kid, stick with him!”

“They’re more like robots than monsters,” Sam called out. “They’re being controlled somehow!”

“So the question is, who’s controlling them,” Barnes said. Many monsters ate lead around him.

Close by, Spider-Man shot a web at the top of a coconut tree and pulled it back as far as he could. Then, he released it with force, knocking a particularly large creature back towards the ocean. “Fore!” he shouted.

Unfortunately, as soon as the monster hit the waves, there was a foreboding flash beneath the surface. It rose again...about two times bigger than before. “...oops.”

Bruce Banner remained on his knees and elbows, and crawled along behind the rocks. Once in a while, the doctor would offer up a wave of thanks to Spider-Man (who valiantly defended him), or give out suggestions and warnings to the team. Some helpful, some unnecessary. “Watch your back, Nat...one more Clint, on your left. Steve, get that one!”

“Come on man, transform,” a customer muttered.

“Did you not hear them talk about why he shouldn’t yet?”

“Yeah, but I bet on him.”

The camera then focused on Iron Man, who was now deep into the jungle. With the winged monsters in hot pursuit, the man flipped himself over, still flying. Then, raising his repulsors, he fired away, shooting down one creature after another. It was only temporary of course, and chances were that they would come back even stronger. Iron Man flipped over once more, belly towards the ground. “Alright Dear. I know you’re not feeling well today, but I need you to get me that power source.”

A woman’s voice with a light Irish accent answered him smoothly, if not haltingly. “I’m getting readings from the tower up ahead. The 18^th level, by the look of it. I’m getting at least one heat signature, so I’m betting that’s where your man is.”

“Gotcha.” There was an extra blast from his repulsors as he sailed upward, careful not to catch fire to any trees. “Alright team,” he said into comms, “The power source is coming from inside the beacon, I’m heading there now.”

“Good luck,” Cap breathed.

But in mid air, something happened. A horrible roar sounded, and the winged creatures were back with a vengeance. They had grown bigger, and far more ferocious. They flew toward Iron Man with a terrifying speed.

Stark was just turning to brace himself for the attack, when the beasts flew right by him. Iron Man hovered in the air for a moment. “Um...FRIDAY, did I miss something?”

“They’re heading for the tower,” FRIDAY said, and for a robot, or AI, or whatever she was, she actually sounded concerned.

The lights of Iron Man’s eyes flared, and he shot after them. The ice creatures reached the beacon and started circling around it. The tower itself was high on the mountain ridge, and was about 211 feet tall. It was an uninspired grey color, and wide at the bottom. The top of the beacon resembled a tiny, but well-built house with a strong antenna attached to the top.

The whole thing was also frozen solid. Jagged ice crystals clung to the tower like a second coat of paint, and it seemed to spiral from the bottom, all the way to the top. The front entrance was also frozen over, with white icicles guarding and overlapping it like crooked teeth.

The creatures circled the tower for a moment longer before going in for the attack. “Whoah!” Tony exclaimed, firing a laser beam at one of them. “Whoah whoah whoah, what are you doing? I thought you liked your master!”

The creatures simply hissed, and circled the tower once more, like lions around an antelope. Iron Man engaged everything, weaving his way through the enemies as he defended the tower. “Okay, new situation,” he told the others. “It looks like the Ringwraiths are attacking the tower.”

“What?” Sam said. “I thought Maestro said that the beacon would be defended!”

“Defended from us, maybe,” Black Widow said, delivering a roundhouse kick. “Not necessarily from themselves. Whoever we’re fighting against doesn’t want us to leave the island. That beacon is their biggest target.”

“But are they not controlling the creatures from the inside?” asked Wanda. “If the tower is destroyed, would they not perish?”

“Could be a special power we don’t know about,” Clint said, firing arrow after arrow. “Either that, or we’re dealing with a lunatic with nothing to lose.”

“Let’s hope it’s the first option,” said Iron Man. He narrowly dodged an incoming whip of a tail, and responded with an arc blast. He turned too late to ward off another attacker that reared behind him, but the critical bite was stopped by a hail of bullets.

As the creature fell, Falcon reloaded one of his guns. “Thought you could use a hand.”

Iron Man merely looked his way at first. “Two to your right,” was the only reply before before he moved on to the next enemy. “Looks like we’re gonna have our hands full up here, which means someone else needs to get to the tower. Any volunteers?”

However, just as the sentence left Iron Man’s mouth, Captain America gave a warning shout. “Heads up!”

Down below, a big ugly ice troll came stomping forth, and before anyone could stop him, he swung a giant ice mallet and struck the center of the beach. The Avengers who were standing nearby found their feet swept out from out for them as sand came rushing into the vortex. “Dr. Banner!” shouted Spider-Man, and allowed the sand to carry him closer before grabbing the doctor and throwing him up toward a banyan tree.

“Ahh!” Banner shouted as he went flying. A web shot up after him, he was promptly secured to the upper trunk. His legs, the only part of his body that wasn’t covered, dangled haplessly in the air.

“Sorry!” Spider-Man called as he was swept away.

Digging her heel, Wanda hurriedly waved her hands. Red energy followed the path of the vortex and buried itself deeply in the center. Then the sand started to rise until it began to twist around itself like a tornado. As the team started to recover around her, Wanda continued to bend and twist her hands in a hurried fluidity.

For a moment, it seemed like everything was finally under control. It didn’t last.

The stones glowed with a vengeance, and one of the beasts reached out and slammed against the red cyclone that trapped them. Wanda jerked back from the effect, and she cried out.

Subsequently, a handful of monsters spilled out and hit the ground running. One of them pounced on Black Widow, who only had time to use her baton to keep her throat from being bitten into. Clint would have killed it, if he weren’t knocked across the head with an ice club. He struggled to get to his feet again, dazed.

As Barnes jumped in to cover him, Rogers came to Natasha’s aid, delivering several blows with his shield. Enraged, the creature lost interest in Black Widow, and set its sights on Cap.

Meanwhile, Banner was having troubles of his own. A monster that sort of looked like a bear was trying to gnaw at his foot, like some kind of appetizer. The doctor was still encased in webbing, and was struggling to pull his foot back as far as he could. “No, noooo. Bad bear! Bad! Get do—heel! Heel!”

“Hey!” Spidey screamed out, and the creature turned its head. “Hey ugly! Over here!” He eased backward until the creature finally chose to give chase. “That’s right, come and get me!”

The camera followed as Spider-Man plunged into the jungle, hopping over logs and boulders as he went. Often, he got himself entangled in a mesh of overhanging vines, or almost conked himself out with a tree branch.

Back at the beach, Captain America had his beast in a wrestling hold, his muscles bulging and straining as he did so. With gritted teeth, he jerked the beast around. “Bucky!” Barnes looked over a moment, and instantly aimed his rifle. In moments, shards of ice fell from Roger’s hands. “Thanks.”

He turned to Natasha. “You alright?”

Romanoff looked a little shaky, but was already up and fighting. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

He then looked out toward the jungle and raised a hand to his ear. “Spider-Man, turn around.” The soldier then started running all the way across the beach, and rounded a corner.

“What?” Spider-Man squawked.

“Use the suit to get my location and come towards me. Trust me, son!”

“Okay,” said Spider-Man, reluctantly.

Captain America was now out of sight of the others, legs pumping as he went on further down the beach. Several moments later, rumbling sounded, and Spider-Man came crashing out from the tree line. He hopped over an enormous cluster of jagged rocks, but he landed on the wrong foot, and was sent rolling down a sand hill.

When he finally came to a stop, Spider-Man turned onto his back and looked up.

The creature leered back down at him from the rocks, ready to pounce.

Before Bob could frantically ponder if these things could actually eat people, Captain America barreled in, eliciting a few shouts from the crowd. He tackled Spider-Man from the side and caused them to briefly roll together. Then, as the creature leapt, Steve raised his shield directly above their heads. It was too late to change direction or stop itself in mid air, so the creature shattered on impact.

There was scattered applause as the shield lowered.

“You alright?” Rogers asked, slightly breathless.

“Yeah, thanks!”

“Hey!” said an annoyed voice. Bob jumped and tore his eyes away. Mr. Reeves, another regular, frowned up at him from the counter. “I ordered a highball five minutes ago!”

Bob had to blink, his brain battling between bar owner and viewer at lightning speeds. He suddenly realized he hadn’t been this enthralled with the television since he was a schoolboy watching Saturday morning cartoons. Still, his other employees were occupied, and there was money to be made.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Coming up.”

But he snuck a glance over his shoulder as he prepared.

“Anyone?” Tony asked for the fourth time. “Helloooo?” He sighed.

He knew full well that it was probably a free-for-all down there, and he was sternly teaching himself to be more patient with this teammates. But he was fighting flying ice monsters for gosh’s sakes. He currently had one creature by the neck, and gunned his boot jets.

Flying up as high as he dared, Tony rammed the monster up along against the under surface of the dome until it sizzled into tiny pieces.

“Nice,” Wilson commented, almost begrudgingly.

“Papa’s still got it.”

They weren’t given much fly space, not as much as they would’ve liked. A thorough scanning from their technology revealed that a large portion of the beach, mountains, and air space was sectioned off in a sort of wedge. The energy walls were made out of the same stuff as the rest of the dome, only it was a divider of sorts. He and Wilson came to the conclusion that if and when they defeated their enemy, they would be given more access to the island.

Tony was almost impressed. Maestro really did think of everything.

Another winged creature appeared where the last one died, and Tony raised his gauntlet once more. “Does anyone copy down there, or are we down to two already?”

“Here, Tony,” Rogers finally answered. “Sorry, got distracted for a moment.”

“You can say that again.” That was the kid’s voice. “Dr. Banner? You okay, man?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce replied. Tony could hear the warped blasts from Wanda’s energy in the background. “Everyone’s got me covered, more or less. Thanks for the save, by the way.”

Tony could practically see the stars in Peter’s eyes. “Holy cow—I mean, uh—” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure, no problem Dr. B, glad I could help.”

Barely suppressing the roll of his eyes, Tony cut in, “If we’re all done catching up—”

“Right. I’m close to the beacon, heading there now,” said Rogers. “The rest of you—son, you can let go now—the rest of you keep the monsters busy on the beach, do not let them reach the jungle. We can’t afford to lose track of these guys.”

There were grunts of affirmation from those who could respond, but Tony raised an eyebrow. “Kid? What—are you with Rogers? What are you doing?”

“Just warming him up, Mr. Stark,” Peter replied.

“Please tell me you weren’t hugging him.”

“He’s in a t-shirt Mr. Stark! And I’ve got a whole heater! He’s probably freezing—that and he totally saved my bacon, FYI.”

“FYI?” Clint repeated.

A flurry of thoughts briefly went through Tony’s mind, and he came to a split decision. May was going to kill him for this, if she ever were to find out. The words left his mouth before he had the chance to think twice. “Kid, go with him.”

“Wait, really?”

“Like I always say, two enhanced are better than one. He might need you. Temperature’s dropping, and we have 20 minutes before the team’s hypothermic, maybe even less.”

He could picture Rogers nodding to Peter. “Then let’s go, Queens.”

“R-Right!”

Tony then opened a private channel. “Kid, this line’s just between you and me. How much power do you have left in your heater?”

“Uh, Karen says 40%.”

Tony ran the calculations in his head. “Okay, keep it running, but use it sparingly. The sooner you help nail our baddie, the better. There should still be enough to keep you covered until then.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“It’s not at all what I had in mind for your first team assignment, but here we are, and this is it. This is your chance to make a good impression, so make it count. Keep your eyes peeled, stay sharp—and if Cap tells you to do something, do it. No fooling around, no goofing off. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Peter murmured, with a slight tinge of embarrassment.

Captain America was probably listening to every word with his enhanced hearing, and Tony was probably making him look uncool or whatever. But he knew that Peter was taking his words seriously, and would put a hundred percent into everything he did, especially when it came to helping others. The kid was good that way.

Tony nodded inside the suit. “Good. Keep me posted.” He signed out, and elbowed a monster to his right.

“They’re heading up the mountain, Sir.”

“Good, good. That’s good.” Cyrus eased up onto one of the desks and grinned up at the giant screen.

Behind him, his analysts—or rather his ‘crew’, as he liked to call them—continued to work diligently at their computers. He swung his feet like a little kid as he watched Captain America and Spider-Man charge through the jungle. “Tighten up on that, Rex. Yeaaah, that’s great, more on the feet there. Now close up, close up on Rogers’ face—theeeere it is.” He cackled a little, and drummed his fingers gleefully on the desk.

“Mr. Crowe,” said a woman with some caution.

“Yes, Verbina!” said Cyrus, in the throes of a good mood.

“I was just thinking...the Avengers are well enough to be physically active, but some of their scars are still showing. Won’t that elicit some sympathy from the audience, especially now that they’re forced to fight?”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. For one, it’s the Avengers. They’ve been beat up so many times, it’ll barely register. And secondly, any trace of sympathy the audience might feel won’t last very long.”

His eyes refocused back on the screen, and there was hunger in his gaze. “Pretty soon, the public is gonna get to know the Avengers. The real Avengers. The longer we film, the more the audience will start to resent them. Hate them. By that time, those little cuts and bruises will be the last thing on anyone’s minds.”

Verbina and a few others nodded before resuming their work.

Cyrus gave the desk a final tap before easing back off of the desk. “I gotta use the john. Let me know the moment they reach the tower.”

There was a collective ‘yes sir’, and Cyrus moved down the aisle with a slight limp before pushing the door open. People stood aside and nodded as he passed by, and he would often return the gesture with finger guns. After he tended to his business, Cyrus washed his hands and observed himself in the mirror. Frowning, he used his pinky finger to clean something out of his teeth.

All his life, people called him average-looking, but Cryus was often told that he was handsome, by people who ought to know. He resembled his father, with his jet black hair, olive skin, and brown eyes. Though, unlike his father, his build was much like his face—average. But what he lacked in body weight and muscle, he made up for in sharp features and high cheekbones.

He was also often told that his teeth were too large for his mouth to handle—but at the same time, they were a crisp, glacial white. That was something to be envied, especially in Hollywood.

He ran his tongue across them, and gave them a good chomp. In another life, he could have been an actor—he had tried when he was much younger. However, his acting coach (Mr. Palmer, he remembered), hated him. He would often say terrible, nasty things about his performances, using words and phrases such as: “On the nose. Uninspired. 1940’s overacting.”

Cyrus used to loathe that old geezer. As time passed though, he knew that the glamour and bright lights just wasn’t for him anymore. He was more of a behind the scenes guy, anyhow. But he also began to appreciate the sleek sophistication of the Hollywood actors of that time...Clark Gable, James Stewart, Frank Sinatra...sure, they weren’t body building hunks of meat like most actors from the 80s, but they could always command attention and respect. And so, Cyrus figured...why not give it a shot?

He didn’t go around pretending he was in the 1940s or anything, but he did take to parting his hair and slicking it back—he also upped his style, changed his walk, and altered the way he carried himself. Now he was the master of his own life, and was moving on to bigger, better things...like getting revenge on Tony Stark. Yes sir, he was doing alright for himself.

Straightening the lapels of his suit, Cyrus exited the bathroom and nearly slammed into a smaller figure. “Ah!” he exclaimed. “Dr. Kunz! Didn’t see you there.”

Dr. Kunz stared in response. Cyrus tried not to swallow. The doctor shared Cyrus’ jet black hair, but the resemblance stopped there. He was a short and stocky sort of fellow, and he had dark hazel eyes that could easily be mistaken for brown. They also seemed dead, at least to Cyrus. In the time he had known him, there hasn’t been a single spark of laughter, sadness, fury, or...anything in those eyes. It was admittedly off putting.

Cryus also fancied that Dr. Kunz looked a lot like a bullfrog. He didn’t go spreading that around, though. He wanted to live.

“Those ice creatures,” Kunz said in his usual low, warbly voice, “Are starting to damage the trees. Most of them took years to grow.”

“Ah—we talked about this, doc. We respect your jungles and forests and all that, but things do happen in battle. If we want this to work, we’ve gotta let our antagonists let loose a little.”

Dr. Kunz’s eyes darkened, even more than usual. “I allowed the two of you to use my island because I was promised that it would be showcased to the best of its abilities. I don’t see how that’s possible, if it’s all but razed to the ground.”

“Hey. Doc.” Cyrus’ voice was equally frank. “I get it. It’s your island, but it’s also my stage. There might be a couple scuffs on the floor, and the actors might break a prop or two. All the same, I’m the one managing it, and it’s my responsibility. It won’t be destroyed, you have my word, alright? I’d die first.”

Kunz scoffed, though his face didn’t twitch a muscle. “Well. Let’s hope that you are right, Maestro...or I just might take you up on that offer.”

With that, he briskly turned away.

“What—hey, was that a smile?” Cyrus called after him, pointing a finger. “I didn’t think you could do that!” The doctor turned a corner. “Okay, good talk—hey, Cap’s almost at the beacon, so get...get ready.”

Now alone, Cyrus righted himself by straitening his tie, and walked in the opposite direction. “Short and stubby little, bullfrog-looking little…”

The Jungle was a dark and dank place. Steve’s hearing could pick up the buzzing of strange insects and the uneasy groans of old trees. And now that he and Spider-Man had put a fair amount of distance between the beach and themselves, the freezing cold had evaporated into sweltering heat and humidity. Running had never been a problem for Steve, but the sudden change in temperature had him panting and sweating from the hairline.

Spider-Man was panting too, but the young man kept pace. He had to give the kid credit—it wasn’t everyday someone could keep up with him. “You should know,” he said, “we could be walking into a trap. Did you notice how the creature we fought didn’t regenerate? Or how nothing else came after us? I’m willing to bet that that’s not a coincidence.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man gasped, trying not to trip over his own feet in the hard packed dirt. “Don’t worry though, I’m ready—whoah—for anything!”

“Good.”

It was clear that Spider-Man was young, and judging by the embarrassment over his T-shirt earlier, Steve deduced that he was about college age. Still green. Not nearly old enough to know how the world works yet, but very eager and willing to help save it. Steve could respect that.

What’s more, Tony seemed to have an unusually firm confidence in him, and Steve would do the same. Hopefully, if Spider-Man lived, this battle would prove to be a good learning experience for him.

“I want you to know that whatever we find up there, we’re in it together,” Steve made sure to add. “As of now, we’re teammates. I’m gonna have your back out there, and I’m trusting you to have mine. Got it?”

“Got it,” Spider-Man replied, sounding pleased. “So then...what’s the plan?”

“No plan yet. We’ll know better when we get there, see exactly what we’re dealing with. 80% of this job is improvisation, remember that.”

“Yes Sir, Captain America.”

Steve held in a chuckle. “Just Rogers, Son. Or Steve, if you feel comfortable. If we’re gonna be working together, we might as well be on level with one other.”

Spider-Man made a sort of noise before falling silent. Then, after a while, “Karen’s acting funny.”

“Could be interference from our guy. Let’s hurry.”

They put more speed into it. If Steve had to estimate, the journey from the beach to the tower would be at least half a day’s hike for the average person, even if they were going as fast as they could. It took him and Spider-Man less than ten minutes to break into a clearing and reach the base of the mountain. They didn’t bother taking the trail path. Not wasting a moment, Steve whipped his shield onto his back, got a good grip on a ledge with his foot, and hoisted himself up.

“Hey!” called Spider-Man to his left. He was almost out of breath, but Steve could tell he was smiling. He scaled the mountains with his hands and feet, having no need for ledges. “Let’s see who gets to the top first!”

“It’s not a race, son,” said Steve, but put a little more strength into his climb. Making their way up the mountain, they could see the tops of a few ice giants as they raised their clawed fists in combat. And there in the sky were the tiny figures Tony and Sam, working diligently to keep the winged monsters at bay.

Things would soon get ugly, and fast.

They climbed faster, with one sometimes out pacing the other. Occasionally, they stole glances at each other, checking the other man’s progress. They hadn’t even reached the top when they felt the change. The air was freezing again, only it was far worse than how it was at the beach.

Steve could hear Spider-Man’s teeth chatter. “Almost there,” he said in encouragement, and the young man nodded. Together, they climbed the last ledge, and entered sideways into a small forest. In the end, Steve reached the top first, if it mattered at all.

With twin grunts, they hoisted themselves up, and moved as quickly as they could through the trees. The ground crunched beneath their feet, and they could see fresh wounds of hard packed ice running up the tree trunks.

When the clearing broke, the two skidded to a stop. The tower loomed before them. It was almost like an ice palace—beautiful, yet cold and frigid. Guarded too. Icicles barred the way, and the door was hidden from sight.

Running up, Spider-Man shot a web, but it inexplicably started to crystalize. The young hero yelped and snapped the web off before it could reach his web shooter. He then went up to the tower and started punching the ice. By the eighth blow, he had to stop, shaking out his hands. “Wow—this stuff’s strong!”

Steve rested his hands on his knees beside him, catching his breath. His eyes carefully scanned the entrance.

Not one to give up easily, Spider-Man flexed his fingers and started scaling up the tower. He nearly broke his neck on the way down. He tried again, and again, at different angles and with different methods, but he couldn’t seem to maintain his hold on the ice.

Spider-Man slid back along a slope of ice towards Steve and breathed with effort. “How are we...s’posed to get in there?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Steve said. Straightening up, he gave himself some distance before taking a flying leap over the thorned spikes, and landed onto the front terrace. Once he steadied himself enough not to slip, he whipped the shield from his back and started slamming it against the ice.

And, with it being made of vibranium, it didn’t take long to give. A huge chunk of ice fell inward, and a path to the inside was opened. “Oh...right, awesome,” Spider-Man said from the ground.

It was even colder inside, and practically white with ice. The rotunda glittered, and long icicles hung low from the winding staircase in the middle.

As Steve checked around to see if the area was clear, Spider-Man leapt his way inside. “Okay, Karen, what do you got?” He waited in silence for a moment, then titled his head back toward the ceiling. “Karen says that there’s a strong energy pulse upstairs, but she can’t detect much else. Someone’s definitely causing interference up there.”

“Right,” Steve said quietly, peering behind an open door on the far side of the room. It seemed to lead to more stairs, straight up and down.

“Hey, look.”

Steve turned. There was a glass display case by the door, completely untouched by the ice. Inside it was a pair of handcuffs. The soldier rounded back, put the shield back between his shoulders, and removed the handcuffs, studying them. “They don’t look like suppressants,” Spider-Man commented, echoing Steve’s thoughts. “They’re completely regular.”

“Which means we’re not dealing with any sort of enhanced,” Steve said with a nod. There was some hesitation in the air, and Spider-Man looked up at Steve. “It...almost sounds too easy.”

“Keep your guard up,” Steve agreed. “We should probably split up, can’t risk us both getting caught in one place.” He pointed two fingers behind the winding staircase. “There’s another door, probably the emergency exit. You take that route, I’ll head up the stairs. I’ll hold on to the handcuffs—you’ve got enough web fluid, right?”

“Yeah, plenty.”

“Good. As of now, we keep it simple. If you run into our guy, don’t engage unless you have a clear shot. Fighting’s the last result, containment is the goal. If you have any trouble, tell me through comms, I’ll do my best to get to you, or at least talk you through it. And if you see the switch...well, then, flick it. But don’t leave it unmanned until our perp is secured.”

Spider-Man nodded throughout the plan. “Okay. Got it. Wait!” Warm steam came rushing out from the suit, and Spider-Man quickly rubbed Steve’s hands and arms. “Sorry you don’t have a jacket or something, man. I should have pulled one out of the supplies before I webbed it.”

“That’s okay.” Steve smiled. His instinct had been right. The young man had a good heart. “Thanks a lot, son, but save it for yourself. Remember, we can still talk over comms, so if you come upon anything, let me know.”

“Right, okay.” He gave two quick thumbs up. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

With that, Steve moved over to the spiral staircase. Once he stuffed the handcuffs into his back pocket, he jumped twelve feet in the air and clung to the icy railing that was closest to the open ceiling. He then proceeded to pull himself up from curved banister to curved banister, avoiding the slippery stair trap.

Far below, Spider-Man disappeared into the doorway.

The tower went straight up, and there were a vast number of levels that Steve already passed. Each one either had a row of old and dead terminals, a kitchenette, or a break room. Or simply nothing at all.

Spider-Man’s voice sounded quietly in his ear. “So what do you think their name is?”

“Sorry?” Steve said, grunting as he pulled himself up.

“You know, their Villain name. Practically every bad guy has one. I was thinking Freezer Burn, or maybe Snow Globe. But I kinda figured those names would be too simple, you know?”

Steve would have laughed—of all conversations that they should be having right now—but he felt more concerned than anything. He could hear shivering from the other end. “You alright there, kid?”

“Yeah, yeah. S’just really cold...I mean, of course it is, but I think ‘m starting to feel it...even from inside the suit.”

A sudden thought came to Steve. “Can you, by chance...you know...thermoregulate?”

“….No, not really...but I’m still good, Cap, as long as we beat this guy...or girl soon.”

“Then let’s keep moving,” Steve agreed, pulling faster.

He had been climbing a while when he came upon an open corridor that was tunneled with ice. “That was easy,” Steve grunted before swinging his way over to the barred partition. His feet nearly slipped when he hoisted himself up and landed on the other side, and he barely missed hitting his head on the ice. Cold air steamed out of his mouth as his arms gripped the partition behind him. Carefully, he eased himself back to his feet.

The corridor resembled a freezer that was in serious need of defrosting. The light tinted blue, and Steve’s eyebrows started to feel like they were hardening.

“About time you got here,” drifted a voice. It sounded plain, bored. Young, too. “I was starting to get antsy.”

“Didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” Steve answered as he eased along, back to the wall. He reached for his shield and crouched low, holding it out in front of him.

“Oh, if only you knew.”

Steve moved behind a particularly large lump of ice and waited. “I can see you,” said the voice, and he was reminded of Bucky’s unimpressed face whenever they tried to play hide and seek together. He was never really good at it. He was always sneezing, or coughing.

Steve then replied, with an edge of sarcasm, “I guess that means it’s game over then.”

The voice seemed to smile. “On the contrary. The game’s just started.”

A towering figure emerged from the wall behind him. Steve barely had time to react when the massive snowy fist slammed into the center of the shield. The sound reverberated, irritating the beast backward, momentarily. Steve seized the opportunity and brought the shield down, slicing its hand off. The creature roared, and Steve dealt a series of devastating blows and kicks to the body. When the monster caved in on itself, Steve jumped over the melting remains and slid into the adjacent room.

It was frozen over, like everything else, and was relatively small. A young man sat in the middle of it. Ice formed around him in a sort of bird-nest like chair.

He was very thin, and had dark skin. His long black braids were fashioned into a half-ponytail, and he had a very sharp jaw line. He wore a two-piece green and white ski suit, and his eyes were partially covered by matching green visor goggles. The eyes in question flicked over to Steve.

“Hello, Cap,” he said, though he seemed a little distracted. Steve’s eyes dropped down to the device in the young man’s hands. It was a remote of some sort, and the solider had the vague recollection of a video game controller. “Actually, sorry, hold on a sec.”

Steve squinted; small, holographic figures moved across the visor. With a startled blink, he realized how familiar they looked: A metal suit in frantic combat. A young woman with long hair, waving her hands. A long haired man with a rifle.

He shot forward, lunging for the controller. “Don’t—!”

Cocoons of ice shot up from the ground, entrapping his feet. Before Steve could even strike with his shield, A number of men—men made out of ice piled onto him. He was able to fight them off only for a minute or two—in the end, his shield was wrestled from him, and their ice arms wrapped around his body.

The young man barely looked up. Chewing gum, he jerked his thumbs across one of the knobs. “C’mon, c’moooon,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Oooh, nice try, Wilson. Typical, Miss Maximoff, same move, same story. Do better.”

“Where'd you get those fancy gadgets?” Steve asked, grunting and straining against the icemen. One of them held him in a choke hold from behind.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The image seemed to wipe itself from the visor, and the man lowered the control. He finally turned to face Steve, and he smiled in a lazy sort of way. There was an intelligent air about him. “Your friends will be kept busy for the time being. I wanted us to have time to talk. Good to see you, Steve Rogers.”

“We know each other?”

“Well, no, but...I guess you’re practically family, at this point.” He leaned back and kicked one leg over the other. “I’ll spare you the guessing games. I’m sure you’re familiar with Gabriel Jones?”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Gabe? Of...of course I am.”

The young man nodded. One of the icemen, the one closest to his shoulder, started to change. Steve jerked a little, disturbed, as the once smooth face morphed into Gabe’s.

“He was one of your Howling Commandos. He was an upright guy, smart too. Studied German, switched to French. Then the war came, and he was eventually captured by Hydra. I’m sure you know the rest, Cap. You disobeyed orders, stormed Hydra’s prison camp on your own, saved a bunch of men including Gabe, yadda yadda yadda...you later ask for his help to take down Hydra...and boom. Howler.”

“So what’s the connection?” Steve asked, avoiding Gabe’s blank stare. “You can’t be family, I’ve already met them.”

“Ah, yes, the illustrious Jones’. Such a lovely family. Well off, accomplished...spotless.” He practically spat out the last word. His eyes glowed sardonically. “But every family has their skeletons, Cap, even them. I guess their skeleton would be me. See, long after Gabriel returned from the war, he had a child sometime in his 50s. The child loved his father. Looked up to him, venerated him, practically kissed the ground his father walked on. So much so, that in his eyes, no one else could measure up. Not even his own children.”

“Reggie loved his kids. Still loves his kids,” Steve said.

“Oh, he does. Well, most of them, that is.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Unfortunately, unlike his dear, moral, upright father, Reginald wasn’t so great. He had secrets. Secrets he would have taken to the grave. And he would've succeeded at that, had he been more careful. But my mother was always a charming woman, and I guess the man couldn’t help himself.”

Steve strained against the arms that held him and shivered. It was getting even colder. “He had an affair.”

“Sad, but true. But I’ve gotta hand it to the guy. He’s been able to cover his tracks for the last twenty-seven years now; paid my mother hush money, gave us a pretty little house with a white picket fence around it...just as long as we stay away from his real family. Keep out of contact with his real children. Wouldn’t want to tarnish the family name, or break their hearts. Especially not his wife’s.”

“Son,” said Steve, “What’s your name?”

The young man blinked, surprised at the response. His face went through a blur of emotions before settling into a self-satisfied smirk. “Wyatt. Wyatt Sterling.”

“Wyatt. I know you’re hurt, but this isn’t the way. You’re 27 years old. You’re still young. You could still become a great man if you wanted to. But you have to make that choice.”

“Speaking of 27 years,” Wyatt said, kicking his legs up into a criss-cross position. “My birth year—1991—was quite an eventful year for you and your friends, wasn’t it? Or so I’ve read.”

Steve was freezing, but still he felt himself grow cold on the inside. “Maestro gave you files.”

“He gave us all files.” Wyatt shrugged. “Not that it matters, since I’m the only one who’s going to take down the Avengers. The others won’t have that chance. But yeah, we’ve received files. We know the date you were born, your height, your weight, your blood type—you know, the usual boring stuff that anyone could look up on the internet.

“But then, when you look further—they’ve got some juicy stuff on you guys. But the thing that really proved interesting to me was what I found on your old pal Barnes’ file….Mission Report. December 16. 1991.” He tilted his head. “Sad that such things had to become between you and Iron Man. When the news broke that the Avengers were fighting each other, I thought, ‘whatever’. Right? But now...now I see what all the fuss was about.”

A voice suddenly blared in his ear. “Mr. Captain America Sir!”

Steve’s expression remained stoic, but Wyatt’s face crumbled in annoyance. He turned to the side. “Spider-Man,” he said flatly, “Do you mind?”

There was a pause. “You...are you the bad guy? Is this you? What did you do to Mr. Rogers?”

“I’m right here, son,” Steve said. “We’re...in the middle of a talk. Looks like he’s tapped into our comms.”

“What? You can’t do that! That’s...that’s cheating!”

“Cry about it. Now if you’ll—”

“And are you chewing gum?” Spider-Man said, incredulous. “Dude, you know the drill. If you bring gum, you need to share with the class!”

Wyatt’s face showed mild disgust. “What are you, in the fifth grade? Grow up. Signing you out.”

“But wait a minute! Aren’t you even worried about where I am?”

“I know exactly where you are. You’re at the switch, two floors above us. But you and I both know that you won’t be getting to it any time soon.”

“Son, what is it?” Steve asked, frowning.

Spidey sighed a little. “He’s right. It’s behind this huge ice wall. It’s hard as nails, and...and I can barely punch through it. It’s strong, and I’m...I’m…”

Spider-Man didn’t need to finish. He was running out of time, and so was the team. “Keep at it son, the team needs us. I’ll handle things down here.”

“Okay...but wait, wait!”

“What?” Wyatt snapped.

“What’s your villain name?”

“What? Are—my villain name? Are you five? My name is Wyatt!”

“...that’s it? Just Wyatt?”

“Goodbye.” Spider-Man’s voice cut out, and Wyatt took a deep breath and shook his head. “Sorry about that, Cap. Where were we?”

“You were about to surrender. Seriously, kid. Turn around. Walk away from this. Whatever Maestro promised you, I can tell you right now that it’s not worth it.”

Wyatt leaned forward, and his eyes flicked with interest. “This feels...special somehow. My own personal Captain America lecture. I mean, technically, you’ve been around all my life. My Dad wouldn’t shut up about you, or about my Grandfather. I should hate the sight of you, but I have to admit...I’m a little star-struck. Kinda makes me wonder how different things would be if you were around, instead of my old man.”

A space of silence hung between them before Wyatt sat up and readjusted the controller in his hands. “I don’t have anything against you, Cap. Really, I don’t.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Short version? I have issues. No denying that. But I also have ambitions. I’ve been working on a number of projects—projects that many would frown upon...have frowned upon. But no matter. I had the drive, and I had the funds. All I needed was the opportunity. When I heard about what Maestro was doing, I seized my chance, simple as.”

His visor flared back to life, and he nodded toward the icemen. All at once, Steve was released, and the ice cones that encased his feet retracted into the floor. Steve stumbled a little, confused. He jerked his head when he felt something brush up against him, and saw that one of the icemen was offering his shield back. Not moving, Steve turned a suspicious gaze toward Wyatt. “What is this?”

Wyatt had turned his focus back to the figures on his visor, chewing his gum with concentrated thought. “Consider this your final boss level.”

“...Young man, I have no idea what that means.”

Wyatt ignored him. “Your friends have less than...ten minutes? Before they freeze to death. Spider-boy up there has less than that. I’m giving you the chance to save them.”

Steve snatched the shield back and slowly bent at the knees. “Why?”

Wyatt only spared him a glance. “Because when I defeat you, I want to know that you were really trying.”

Blue eyes glared coolly. “Alright then.” With a grunt, Steve chucked the shield toward Wyatt, but a blue energy wall flared, and it bounced back.

“Wow,” Wyatt chuckled, his attention still divided. “Whoever said that Captain America was a boy scout was lying. If that force field hadn’t been up there, I’d be a goner right now.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” He twisted around and engaged in combat with the icemen, trading blows, lunges and kicks. There were about six of them, which wouldn’t be an issue, if it weren’t for the frigid temperatures. “Is that force field why you’re not a block of ice by now?”

“Oh—no, it’s just a precaution. This is how I stay warm.” He gestured to his green and white ski suit with a small flourish. “Neat huh? I made it myself. It’s made of micro circuited cryogenic units. And it’s got a heater—much more advanced and longer lasting than Spidey’s, or even Iron Man’s. Though to be fair, the heating system is only one of the suit’s two main functions.”

He then waved his thick white gloves that had grey finger pads. “Through these ducts, I can make it as cold as I want. This beacon is a nice place for the suit to pulse out cooling energy. And lucky for me, the dome around the island will help trap in all the cold air I’m putting out. My own personal igloo.”

As Wyatt was talking, Spider-Man’s voice returned, very softly.“Mr. Captain Rogers—be cool—no pun intended. But I got….Karen to hack back into...the comms.”

Steve kicked one iceman in the sternum. He spoke very very quietly, barely moving his lips. “How’s it looking?”

“Could be better,” Spidey admitted. He drew a shuddering breath, and Steve fought back a wince. It sounded pained. “I’ve…actually made...good progress, but...I don’t know if I can...get through it, in time.”

“Heater?”

“Karen says…20%. It wouldn’t...be a problem, it it weren’t...s-so cold.” He swallowed, hard. “But that’s...why I called. I think I have...a plan.”

Steve only thought a moment. At this point, he was fresh out of options, and there wasn’t time to think of any other alternatives. “I’m all ears.”

There wasn’t a response at first, and he could hear Spider-Man’s shallow breathing. “It’s kinda risky...so don’t tell Mr. Stark. I was thinking that we….ayatt….uy….ime...you have him put... all..s..pot…”

Steve frowned. “You’re breaking up son.” He then reeled back from a nasty headbutt.

The battle wore on. The suit was made to withstand any temperature—in fact, it was once of his first upgrades—but all the same, it was taking a beating. Claws, teeth, and now spears were all making their mark. The creatures were enough of a pain, but now they had men made out of ice to worry about. It wouldn’t be so terrible, if it weren’t for the advanced weaponry they were carrying.

Tony lunged to the side, barely missing a cannon blast.

Nearby, Sam Wilson’s wings had taken too many ice hits. He managed to ease himself back onto the beach, and he briefly rolled across the sand before planting one foot and firing above his head. “What are these things made of?”

“I stopped caring an hour ago,” Clint said. The archer had a major bump on his head that continued to grow, and his arm went at a rapid pace, shooting target after target. Never missing, but not exactly winning, either. “And I really, really need to pee.”

“You can do it, Clint,” Natasha said. Her hair was wild around her head, and there was a bleeding cut on her lip. She had confiscated one of the icemen’s spears and started ruthlessly smashing and stabbing all in her path. “Think of Budapest.”

“I am thinking of Budapest, and my bladder was never the same,” Clint said, eyes flicking over in half irritation. “Your point?”

“Heads up,” Tony said as he swooped back over the group. A strong vapor of steam emitted from the suit. He made sure to hit the team with it every so often, if he was able to reach them. The effect only lasted a few moments, but it was better than nothing. One of the older creatures came up and bit down on his shoulder, gnawing the heck out of it. His repulsor whined as he placed a hand over the creature’s neck and fired. “How are we looking, FRI?”

“The suit is at less than 11%, boss,” FRIDAY replied gravely. “And current temperature is 35 below and counting. At this rate, the team has less than 9 minutes before general hypothermia sets in.”

“Great, thought as much,” Tony muttered. He opened comms back up. “Kid, it’s me, what’s the situation?”

There was a crackle of static. Steve answered instead. “Perp is giving….orking on….att...yo...reak it!”

“Can’t hear you, Steve!” said Barnes.

“...orking on the….ear the foo...enough time!” That was Peter’s voice.

“Kid? Speak up, I can barely hear you.”

There was garbled static in the kid’s intonation, but no actual words were coming through. Tony tapped the side of his helmet. “FRIDAY, what’s going on?”

“We’re getting some interference from the tower, boss.”

Cap’s voice suddenly returned, clear and sharp. “We need more time!”

“Oh, great, the one thing we’re fresh out of. Kid, you still there? You alright? How’s the heater?”

“Fine,” Peter said, but he sounded distracted with something.

Sam made a noise. “Oh, yes. Can’t have Spider-Man getting chilly up there!” His voice took on an annoying lilt. “Are you snug and cozy, Spidey? Are you nice and warm? Is—ahh!”

Not that Wilson didn’t deserve it somewhat, but Tony’s heart jumped at the blast that suddenly nicked Wilson’s arm. Ice was slowly spreading up his body, like a poison. “Crap, crap, crap—”

“What happened?” Roger’s voice demanded. “Sam? Are you okay?”

“...I...ah, think so.” He took a deep breath as he flexed his arm. “Actually, no, not really. One of the guys hit me with a blast, my arm’s freezing.”

“Hang tight, Sam,” Rogers said hurriedly. “Give us five minutes, team, just five minutes.”

“Go for it,” said Romanoff.

“Yeah, whatever you’re doing, do it fast,” said Sam, holding his arm out cautiously to the side. Lucky for him, the ice stopped at his shoulder. But the island was colder still. A faint crackling sound filled the air, and Tony realized that it was the surrounding ocean, freezing over.

Maximoff, who had been pulling a heavy weight with most of the monster minions, was starting to jerk and twitch, like a wind-up doll running out of juice. Her red energy was flickering in and out. “My hands,” she shuddered, stumbling. “So...cold…” she dropped to her knees, frantically trying to work her stiff fingers.

Behind her, an iceman raised his sword for the kill.

It had been a long enough time for the kid’s webbing to dissolve, so Bruce had been hovering nearby for a while, hiding behind the tree line. Good thing too, because while Tony couldn’t get there in time, the doctor himself came running up, and with a shout, smashed it with a large rock he found. Wanda spun around and looked up at him, stun-faced. Then her brows knitted, and she rose with a steadied hand. “Get behind me.”

Bruce obeyed without hesitation, and she took down a row of approaching ice minions.

Tony’s suit emitted flying sparks as a heavy set of ice arms slammed and braced against his own. Whatever you two are planning up there, he thought, it better work.

“Sloppy,” said Wyatt.

Steve hit the floor, groaning. He covered his stomach, which was creeping with ice. “You do know that you leave yourself open every time you throw your shield, right? Every time! You should know this by now.”

Steve took a swallowing breath, and forced himself to turn over. His face was bruised and swollen, and one eye was shut. Still, he pushed himself up and stood, only for all six icemen to slam him against the wall. “This is the great Captain America? This is the man that my grandfather followed? This is the standard my father held us all too?” Wyatt shook his head with a dark sneer. “Pathetic.”

Straining, Steve frantically wiggled his fingers out toward his fallen shield, which was just out of reach to his right.

“I really did feel bad about your ruined friendship with Tony,” Wyatt said. “From the look of it, he was the closest friend you had since you were thawed, wasn’t he? Now, it’s...practically fallen to pieces.”

Wyatt’s eyes flashed with irritation when he heard bits and pieces of Spider-Man’s voice through Steve’s earpiece. “Still talking to Spidey, huh? Well, I hope you’re giving him some words of comfort. Because he’s not gonna last long.”

He refocused his gaze on the figures across the visor, and mashed his fingers on the controller. “I got lucky when you were the one who ended up coming here, even though I had a hand in some of it. But I really got lucky when that bug freak tagged along with you. His profile wasn’t as extensive, but I do know that he can’t thermoregulate. In a minute or two, his heater will run out, and tiny little ice crystals will start forming in his veins. Then his body will start to shut down. Pretty soon, he’ll crawl under a desk or something and die.”

Steve’s fists clenched, and his upper body jerked forward. “You k-know that…. for a fact, do you?”

“I have my sources.”

The icemen slammed him back, hard. Slowly, crystals started to form at Steve’s feet, and worked its way up towards his chest. He shuddered. Every breath burned in his lungs, and he couldn’t feel his toes anymore.

“It’s a shame, Steve, that it had to end like this,” came Wyatt’s voice, from far away. “How lonely it must feel—dying in a foreign time, away from those who loved you. From those who cared.”

The icemen that entrapped him changed faces. A few more Howlers, Jim, Jacques, Pinky...and his heart twisted when he looked into Dr. Erskine’s deep, kind eyes. But wort of all was a woman’s face, a lovely face. The face that’s haunted him since the day they parted.

His lips formed her name, but he couldn’t voice it. Peggy’s icy hands cupped his face, and his hair frosted.

“But you...you put the lives of strangers ahead of your own...heroes often do that. But think if you hadn’t, Steve. Think of the life you could’ve had, the life you could have given her. The super soldier serum undoubtedly prolongs your lifespan...you could have been there for her, as her life flickered out. You could have been there, to hold her, in her final moments. To love her.”

Steve’s eyes closed. He didn’t remember the impact when he crashed that plane all those years ago. His last thought, his last wish, was to have that dance. But the cold, numb sensation felt darkly familiar. His brain couldn’t grasp it, but his body remembered. The body always remembered.

“That’s right, Steve,” Wyatt whispered. “Better they didn’t pull you out in the first place. Then you wouldn’t have to fight...then you wouldn’t have to fill in that void. Because you have nothing. No one.”

The ice crackled up to his neck.

“Go back to sleep, Cap…and don’t worry. I’ll make sure you never wake up again.”

With a deep breath, Steve’s eyes flared open. “NOW, Queens!”

Spider-Man’s chipper voice responded, “Roger that, Captain America!”

Wyatt’s face fell apart in utter confusion. “Wha—”

There was a dull noise, and a moment later, the roof shattered. Steaming with heat, Spider-Man dropped down from the hole in the ceiling, directly above Sterling. Before Wyatt could react, a swift punch knocked him over, and his visor was destroyed.

At the same time, Steve’s fingers quickly grasped his shield, and he broke free from the ice. The icemen, who had been distracted by Spidey’s entrance, tried going on the attack again, but were immediately smashed to shards by Steve.

With a shivering grunt, he rose to full height, and Spider-Man’s hands closed around the controller, crushing it with ease. The blue shield that protected Wyatt winked out, and the blue balls that kept the monsters alive ceased glowing and scattered harmlessly to the floor.

Slack jawed and swollen faced, Wyatt stared up at them. “But...but I...you weren’t even affected?” he whispered towards Steve. He turned his attention to Spider-Man. “And you...how did you even—”

“Don’t get me wrong, you guarded the tower pretty well with the ice,” Spider-Man said, opening and closing his steaming palms. “But at the end of the day, it’s just metal. We had to wait a little while, let Cap goad you into freezing the tower juuust right. ‘Cause if you take any solid and get it cold enough, it’ll turn brittle. Physics 101, dude.”

Wyatt dropped his head backwards.

“Plus, I could hear you, from like, a mile away. I knew exactly where you’d be at—I just needed a distraction.” He turned to Steve. “By the way, I flipped the switch.” He wiggled his still-steaming fingers in the air. “The heater helped get through the ice!”

Steve had to smile, and he firmly patted the young man on the shoulder. “Good work, son.”

"Thanks! Anything else?”

“Umm, oh, his suit. It controls the cold.”

“Oh, shoot, really?” He turned to Wyatt, who was trying to crawl away, and aimed his wrist. “Taser web!”

Wyatt shouted as his suit sparked blue and gold, fizzling. His body jerked once, twice, three times, before collapsing onto his side in a miserable heap. “Freeze Tag,” said Spider-Man in a grand voice, placing his hands on his hips. “You're under arrest!”

Wyatt said nothing as Steve knelt down and cuffed his hands behind his back. Just as he did so, feedback squealed, startling all of them. Against the wall, in the upper corner, was a speaker. It had gone completely unnoticed by Steve, until now. Maestro’s voice blared through.

“Congrats, Gramps! Oh, and you too, kiddo—you’ve successfully apprehended the perpetrator! Big round of applause!”

Steve felt a rush of irritation, and Spider-Man walked up beneath the speaker. “H-Hey, man. What’s the...what’s the bi...big...what’s the bi…” He couldn’t finish.

“Spider-Man, outside, now,” Steve commanded. The kid probably used all that was left of his heater, and was now feeling the cold at full force. It would take a while for things to warm up, and this particular spot was still dangerously below temperature.

“But...but what if you n-need—”

“Outside, son, that’s an order. I’ll take care of him. Go see if the rest of the team needs any help.”

Spider-Man shuddered, but he nodded. He took little steps at first, then slowly made his way out of the room. Steve turned back to the speaker. “So, is this how it’s going to be? Sending people to do your dirty work? Using them?”

Wyatt sucked in air through his teeth. “Oh, don’t you worry about me, Captain America. I’m nobody’s pawn. I admit that I miscalculated. And as result, you beat me, fair and square. But d-don’t think f-for one second that you can let your g-guard down.” Wyatt was starting to shiver, but fire burned in his eyes as he looked up at Steve. “Believe me. There will be others. And when you come across them, you’ll be t-thinking back and wishing that you let me kill you.”

Steve tightened his grip on his arm. “These people. Who are they?”

Before Wyatt could say anything, something beeped. Steve looked up. On the far side of the wall, behind Wyatt’s nest-chair, was a tall, thin, tube-shaped door. It had opened.

Steve got to his feet and tugged Wyatt with him. The soldier peeked his head inside, searching top to bottom. It seemed like a tiny, cramped elevator with no buttons or levers. Beside the door, there was a panel against the wall. It displayed numbers, like some sort of timer, which was ticking down by the second. 30...29...28...27…

Just then, Wyatt cried out, and was nearly jerked out of Steve’s hands.

“What—hey! Hey!” Steve’s muscles ripped as he renewed his hold on Wyatt. The young man stalled at the entrance, and was wincing in pain. “What is this?” Steve shouted.

“This, my friend,” Maestro finally answered, “is one of our lovely Capsule Chambers. There’s one for every tower. Originally used by Hydra soldiers to send various objects to different parts of the island, for the sake of time management. In this case, you’ll be depositing the foes you’ve captured. The cuffs we placed around his neck, wrists, and ankles will ensure that. They’re laced with special magnet technology.”

Steve managed to tug the hem of Wyatt’s collar, and sure enough, a strange collar shone back at him.

23….22….21…

“Yeah?” Steve said through gritted teeth. “And then what? You’ll kill them? Promote them? Unleash them to the real world, where they can terrorize innocent people?”

“Gramps,” Maestro exclaimed, actually sounding somewhat hurt. “What kind of operation do you think we’re running here? I would never put citizens in danger, if I can help it. No, we’ll take care of them, you have my word.”

“You really don’t think I’ve got my head screwed on right, do you?” Steve snapped. He and Wyatt groaned as the latter inched closer to the chamber.

19...18...17…

“Think about it, Gramps. We’ve spent a lot of resources to get you and your teammates here. You were the prize, not random citizens. Would we go to such trouble, if our goal was to terrorize the every day man? But, no matter. Either way, you’ve only got sixteen seconds. After that, the chamber closes. Even if you do manage to prevent them from going in the chamber, you’ll find yourself stuck with whoever you’ve captured. Which, would be a huge pain on your part. Lugging prisoners across the island? Yikes. And what if they manage to get free, and kill your teammates in their sleep? Now that would be tragic. And, it would be on you.”

Steve clenched his jaw, and looked back at the chamber searchingly.

“And don’t bother thinking about jumping in yourself,” Maestro added. “These chambers have an advanced biometric scanning system. If anything conveys that it’s one of you heroes, and not the perpetrators, it’ll seal shut, and it won’t move an inch. Also, note the vibranuim—not one of you will be able to get out, and you’ll rot.”

13...12...11…

Digging his feet in, Steve gripped Wyatt, hard. “Who are you working for? Who is Maestro?”

Wyatt let out a pained grunt. “I don’t know.” Steve squeezed harder. “Ahh, I don’t know!”

“Then tell me about the other people, you said that there were more coming. What do you know about them?”

“I don’t know their names,” Wyatt said pitifully. “All I know is that they’re dangerous—strong, enhanced. Psychos. Brilliant as I am, I wouldn’t even qualify for this mission, if I hadn’t mentioned my lineage...Nepotism, I know...but that’s all I can tell you, I swear!”

9….8….7...6…5...

“How were you paid?”

“Wire transfer!”

“Who approached you?”

“Aauagh, I was hired by phone! Some guy on the phone!

“By phone?”

“Yes!”

Steve looked him in the eye. “You’re a bad liar, son.”

Wyatt scowled, then suddenly kicked an open wound on Steve’s leg. Steve let go, and Wyatt was slammed into the back of the chamber. The young man said something, but the door snapped shut when the timer got down to 1, and a faint whoosh followed, completing his exit.

Steve was alone.

The soldier sunk into a low crouch, and folded his fingers together. He stared long and hard at the icy wall. He didn’t trust Maestro one lick, but Steve had gotten pretty good at knowing when someone was lying to him. Somehow, he was convinced that Maestro wouldn’t hurt anyone that wasn’t an Avenger, or was considered to be one. He had a personal vendetta, and he had yet to fulfill it.

Steve also had the sobering feeling that Maestro would indeed have plans for those who failed. Groups like this did not take these things lightly.

Wyatt was about to learn that the hard way.

He sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. The room was still freezing, and his body yearned for any semblance of warmth. A jacket, a thick blanket. Maybe even a hot cup of cocoa. He moved slowly though, rising back to his feet, and going over to pick up his shield. Thoughts weighed heavily on his brain, one of them vaguely being that they probably needed to clear out most of the ice before it melted...they couldn’t have a flooded beacon on their hands.

But he made no move to start doing so, not yet. He found himself half-limping down the emergency stairs, the path he hadn’t taken. About halfway down, he was jolted from his ruminations.

“Spider-Man!”

Delmar was having an unusual day. It started out fine, good in fact. His wife kissed him good morning, he had a big breakfast, and the pigeons missed his newly washed car by an inch. There had been a weird sort of vibe in the air when he left the house, but he wasn’t really paying close attention.

The first order of business was always entering the store at 8:30 sharp, and making sure floors were swept and windows were wiped to his satisfaction. He never watched TV in the mornings, nor did he turn on the small television on the counter until about noon-ish.

So he was surprised then, when he found out the big news. Apparently, the Avengers had been on everyone’s screens since five or so in the morning, and everyone in Queens had been transfixed ever since. No wonder business had been slower today. It was just as well, however. Ever since Delmar turned on the broadcast, he wasn’t worth a decent stroke of work. He became a TV zombie, like everyone else. Especially since their very own Spider-Man was thrown in the mix. Local excitement had skyrocketed. Imagine, their very own Spider-Man, fighting along side the Avengers! It was almost like watching your team play the Superbowl. Almost.

Kid was moving up in the world, it seemed.

Soon, he decided to close the store early. He could take one day, if not just to see how the fight would end. Two of his hires showed up, much to his surprise, and the three of them ended up pulling chairs and watched the chaos unfold over snacks. They offered up cheers when one of the Avengers managed to get a good hit in, and groaned comically whenever someone was sent flying. But at some point, Delmar stopped laughing.

A strange feeling came over him, and he couldn’t exactly place it. There was something to be said about watching someone on TV, particularly someone you knew.

You could pass that person everyday, and know exactly what they look like. But, if you were to watch that person on screen for a prolonged time, you would be somewhat forced to notice certain details of that person’s face that you wouldn’t have noticed before. A mole, perhaps, or maybe strange flecks in their eyes. Listening to someone’s voice, perhaps, was no different.

Everyone in Queens knew Spider-Man’s voice well enough in passing, and there were plenty of YouTube videos in which you can hear him running his mouth at some crook. Delmar wasn’t an internet person, but he was privileged to hear the man up close when he rescued him and Murph from his burning shop all those months ago.

Somewhere between Spidey and Cap climbing up the mountain and Wilson getting shot with an ice blast, Delmar had sobered, and sat with his arms folded while his workers cheered on. Snacks flew everywhere when Spider-Man dropped down from the ceiling, and knocked Wyatt’s lights out.

They were residents of Queens, and even they had forgotten all about their wall crawler for a moment. Watching Cap struggle like that had consumed them. Delmar nodded while his workers clapped and whooped wildly for their heroes' victory. But everything had quieted again when Cap found Spider-Man lying at the bottom of the stairs.

“Spider-Man!” Cap said, taking three steps at a time.

“I’m...f-fine,” Spider-Man replied. He had been lying on his side on the landing, and was just now pushing himself. “I...I guess I slipped or something.”

Steve was at his side instantly, and wrapped the young man’s arm around his shoulder. “Can you walk? Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They went slowly and steadily, the two battered enhanced. They took their time, allowing the groans and creaks of the walls to fill the silence. Steve smiled at one point, aggravating his swollen eye. “So. Freeze Tag, huh?”

“It’s s-still a work in progress,” Spider-Man admitted.

“No….no, I kinda like it.”

“Really? C-C-Cool.”

They had just managed to step onto the green grass when Spider-Man’s legs gave out. Steve quickly eased the young hero to the ground, careful of his own injuries.

“Spidey. Hey. You with me buddy?”

“Yeah,” came the quiet response. “I’ll be up in a sec...’m just...really tired.”

“Stay awake, soldier. You hurt anywhere? Hey--!”

His hands reached out to catch Spider-Man’s head before it hit the ground. “Queens! Queens, what’s wrong?”

The young man didn’t respond.

“Crap,” murmured Carlos. He was new at the shop, while Marvin had been with Delmar for years. “C’mon, Spidey.”

Steve laid Spider-Man flat on his back, and his hands hovered uselessly over his body for a moment. The kid’s suit had a few rips and tears here and there, but nothing that could warrant this. Was he already hypothermic, or worse? Was all that crap about ice crystalizing in his veins actually true?

Murph moved over in front TV for about the ninth time, and Marvin and Carlos groaned at him to move. Delmar went over, picked him up, and sat the cat on his lap. Murph had never been interested in the TV, until today. Demlar’s eyes darkened, and a queasy feeling entered his stomach. He didn’t know why.

“Karen? Er—can you hear me, it’s Steve Rogers, what’s wrong with him?” No answer, obviously. “Kid!” he slapped his cheek repeatedly. “Kid wake up. Wake up, son. Do you have a concussion? Did you hit your head? Talk to me, son!”

Spider-Man’s head lolled to the side.

Whatever it was, there was no telling—not if they couldn’t even see him. Not while the mask was on.

“Come on, not like this,” Marvin said. “Get up, kid, get up!”

Steve’s eyes steeled. A decision had to be made, and he was making it. Taking a deep breath, he reached out his hands and felt along the bottom of the mask until he found a flap. “Sorry Queens, but I need to see if you’re okay.” Gently, carefully, he rolled the mask upward. There was a bolt of shock in the air, and the three men leaned forward. “Wait, wait, wait,” Delmar said, and the others were stammering the same thing. Spider-Man’s identity had been a complete mystery—everyone had more or less respected his desire to keep his face hidden, but people were still curious.

Fingers continued to pull the mask back, and Delmar’s eyes widened. This was actually happening, right here, right now. No time to think of the implications or consequences. He had a fleeting thought of looking away, or turning off the TV, but he couldn’t. He was frozen. He couldn't move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even blink. He couldn’t.

The mask went up, over his chin, over his nose, over his eyebrows. “Don’t worry, son,” Steve said, “I won’t tell a sou..."

Chapter 6: Anyone?...Bueller?

Chapter Text

The door whirred open, and light flooded in. Two ice blue eyes stared right back at him. Wyatt jumped a little, and his chest hitched—then his posture deflated with a sigh. “Jeez.”

The owner of the eyes smiled wide, as if he were in the middle of telling an inside joke. “Didn’t go too well, huh?”

Wyatt huffed and looked away. His face still stung from that punch Spider-Man dealt him. “I might have underestimated a few of my opponents.”

The other man—Dylan—shrugged.

Dylan reminded Wyatt of those old GI Joe action figures he used to play with. Taller than him, about 6’7. Fit, well-built. His dark brown hair was fashioned in a high top fade, and even though he had zero facial hair, he seemed to carry more weight than anyone else in the room. Wyatt used to hate guys like him when he was younger.

Middle and High school bullies made his life a living nightmare, and Dylan resembled them all, right down to the cold gleam in his eyes. Sometimes it was mocking—sometimes it was jovial. But the opportunity Cyrus presented him made it so that Wyatt was willing to let the ends justify the means. And after all, he was maturing, and Dylan wasn’t all that bad really, if you remained on his good side.

“You win some, you lose some,” Dylan said lightly, and a key dangled in his hand.

As Wyatt allowed him to undo the magnetic cuffs, he noticed that the hallway—which was sterile and industrial, with pipes running along the ceiling—was crowded. In the bleak light, there were three other men standing off to the side in their combat uniforms. They looked back at him stonily, hands folded in front of them.

Dylan was significantly dressed down in comparison—a grey tank top, cargo pants and heavy boots. But he was also practically their boss, so Wyatt supposed it wouldn’t matter what he showed up in. To have that sort of power...that respect. He hoped that he’d reach that sort of status one day.

Wyatt rubbed his wrists as soon as he was free, and pushed himself from the wall. “You actually did good, for the most part,” Dylan said. “Too bad Spidey got in the way.”

“Yeah, too bad,” Wyatt said, a little shortly. “If it weren’t for him, I could’ve had a decent chance of killing Cap.” He sighed, rolling his sore shoulders. “But it couldn’t be helped, I guess. He’s new, and he hasn’t been in the field long, which made him less predictable. No matter. I did what I set out to do, and even though I didn’t get everything I wanted..” His dark eyes glinted. “At least I was able to take out my most hated enemy of them all...the Jones’ family name. Even if my Dad isn’t watching, he’ll hear about it. All his hard work trying to hide me from the world...gone, in an instant.”

Dylan patted his shoulder. “Now that’s the spirit.” He smiled as he guided Wyatt out of the chamber. Wyatt didn’t return the smile.

His shoes squeaked on the floor suddenly, halting mid step. Now that he was further out into the hallway, he was able to see Dr. Kunz waiting a bit further down. White coat and all, he loomed silently, hands folded behind his back.

Wyatt stared at him a moment, then swallowed, refocusing back on Dylan. “So, uh...where’s, where’s my money?”

Dylan’s eyebrows lifted, his arm still around Wyatt’s shoulder. “Money?”

A pause. “My money,” Wyatt repeated. “The 3.1 million that Cyrus promised me after I completed the assignment. He said I’d get it all in cash, remember? Or doesn’t that ring any bells?”

“Oh it rings a few. It does. But uh, see, the deal was…” His voice softened, and the arm around Wyatt tightened, just a little. “..That you’d defeat the Avengers first. And then you’d get paid.” He smiled again with all his teeth, and tilted his head. “Are the Avengers defeated, Wyatt?”

Hissing, Wyatt threw the arm off him. “I want to talk to Cyrus. I want to talk to him now.”

“Cyrus is busy. Besides, you have a new engagement.”

“A new engagme—hey!” Dylan had nodded to the men in uniforms, and two of the three each took Wyatt by the arm. As the young man began to thrash, Dr. Kunz stepped forward. “Let go! What do you think you’re doing?! I said let go of me!”

The men held fast, and Wyatt panted frantically as Dr. Kunz observed him and grabbed him by the chin, which still felt tender. Wyatt saw his own panicked expression reflected in the doctor’s round glasses.

He had seen him around, during meetings, or waiting in line for breakfast or lunch—but they had never interacted, never spoken. Wyatt had been happy just to keep his distance. Until now.

“How much time you need, Doc?” asked Dylan’s voice from behind.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” the doctor replied, releasing Wyatt’s chin. “He is not as injured as he ought to have been. The boy was generous. He held back immensely. So now, I can get started early.” And then Dr. Kunz did the unthinkable.

He smiled.

“We are going to spend some time together.”

Something in Wyatt broke. “No we’re not, you little freak! I want to talk to Cyrus! I WANNA TALK TO CYRUS! CYRUS!”

Dr. Kunz nodded to the men holding him. “You may take him.”

Dylan watched as Wyatt was carried down the hall, kicking and screaming. Dr. Kunz followed close behind.

The third man, who had a slicked back blond ponytail and a hard jaw, watched them go before turning to face Dylan. “The second participant is watching the highlights.” His German accent was thick. “She is eager to get started.”

“Tell her to hold her horses,” Dylan said. He took out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and plucked one out. “You heard Cyrus. Let things cool down a little, give our heroes some breathing room. Else it’d look malicious.” He then looked at his subordinate with a sarcastic gleam in his eye. “And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

The other man’s face remained the same. “No, we would not. I will pass your orders along.” With a salute and a nod of parting, the man went down the same direction Wyatt was carried.

Getting out a lighter, Dylan turned away and lit his cigarette. After two puffs, he pocketed the lighter and blew out a trail of smoke. “You can come out now.”

Cyrus rounded the corner, a tablet in his hands. He ducked a little as he approached, checking down the hallway. “He gone? Oh, good. I hate confrontations.” He then refocused back down at the tablet and grinned.

“Enjoying your little show?”

“Oh boy, am I.” Cyrus chuckled. “The kid’s getting de-masked as we speak. Happened a lot sooner than I thought it would.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “You and your theatrics.”

“Hey. It’s okay to admit that I’m brilliant sometimes, Dyl. You’re not gonna combust if you do.” His nose then crinkled, and he looked up to see the hallway filling with smoke. “Okay, seriously? You know I’m trying to quit.”

Dylan looked at him through half lidded eyes, cigarette dangling from his mouth. “I’m not.”

Cyrus glared at him, and waved a hand, trying to dispel the fumes. “Seriously,” he coughed. “Those things’ll kill you, not to mention give you bad teeth. And Ma would skin you alive if she caught you smoking.”

Dylan calmly blew a cloud of smoke in Cyrus’s face, causing him to go into a coughing fit. “Ma’s not here.”

“Jerk,” Cyrus managed through his sleeve, and quickly disappeared down the hall, coughing and hacking as he went. A small smirk tugged at Dylan’s lips as he watched his brother go, but it quickly fell into a neutral, cold frown. He took another drag, and released his head back as smoke trailed up toward the ceiling.

At first, Steve didn’t know what he was looking at. Well, he did, but he couldn’t make sense of it, fully. The first thing that struck him was how absurdly pale Spider-Man was. He was breathing okay, but his skin was cold to the touch. Hypothermia then, most likely. Pulse was good. They would need to get down to the beach quickly though, and get him warmed up.

The second thing, though not as concerning or life-threatening, was enough to make Steve’s blood run cold. He looked...young. Very young. Almost enough to be...

Steve shook his head, stopping the thought in its tracks. No. Of course not. Because the very notion would be ridiculous, and Tony would never. Relief flooded back into his shoulders when he suddenly remembered a soldier he knew back in the army days. Jerry Watkins. He was Steve’s age at the time, but he had a face young enough to be mistaken for a schoolboy. All the other guys gave him crap for it. Everyone liked and respected Watkins, but they still teased him plenty. Someone had jokingly called him Junior Watkins once, and it stuck. He had the hardest time getting dates—he reminded gals too much of their little brothers.

Steve relaxed. Yeah, that was probably it. His first response had been an overreaction, surely.

But...the longer he stared at Spider-Man’s face, the younger it became. A co*cktail of panic and doubt wormed back into Steve’s chest. But Tony wouldn’t, his mind supplied. It was the only thing keeping his mind from going into a tailspin...but a counter thought seemed to lean close to his ear, and whispered: Wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he?

There was a sudden twitch in the kid’s face. Doe brown eyes opened, bleary and seeing nothing at first.

There’s this woman, Steve thought frantically. Agent Reese, a field agent of SHIELD. She’s twenty-nine and still gets carded. Nick gave her all the assignments that had to do with going undercover on college campuses.

But despite all these reasonings, explanations and excuses forming in his head, Steve felt the cold slap of truth, and it stung.

Tony.

Spider-Man—was he even a man—blinked and finally focused on Steve. There was a distant relief in his gaze, until a cold breeze swept by. He must of felt the cold on his bare skin, because his eyes suddenly grew big. With a jerk, his hands went up to his face, then clutched at Steve’s hands, which still gripped the hem of his mask.

The kid’s fingers clumsily felt past Steve’s, and he tried to pull the mask back down. Steve’s grip tightened, keeping it where it was. They stared at each other in silence as they had a brief, half-hearted tug with the mask—the kid, wide-eyed in frozen shock. Steve, eyes blazing and facial muscles taught.

With a slightly firmer tug, Steve gained the upper hand (Even though they both knew that the jig was up at this point) and the mask came completely off. Brown curls fluffed out and tumbled over the kid’s face. Before he could even swipe them out of his eyes, Steve carelessly discarded the mask on the grass and grabbed his head with both hands.

Spider-Man still stared up at him, his breaths quiet and uneven. He seemed too stunned to move, even as Steve’s hands ran curtly through his hair, searching for any sort of bump or injury.

When he found nothing, he gripped the kid’s chin with one hand. Cheeks squished up against his fingers, and Steve leaned closer, bringing them almost nose to nose. Eyes were clear. Alert. Very alert now. The silence endured, and the kid’s breathing came to a soft, thin whistle. “Mr. Rogers,” he eventually croaked. “I—”

“Can you walk?” Steve’s voice was terse.

The kid blinked. “W-What?”

“Can you walk.”

“Uh...yeah...yeah, I think so.”

“Good.”

Steve let go of his chin and leaned back onto his heels. As the kid moved to sit up, Steve grabbed the Spider-Man mask and hooked the kid’s arm back around his shoulder.

Together, they carefully rose to their feet and slowly started their way back down the mountain. The kid’s eyes went to his mask, but Steve had already stuffed it into his back pocket. “Actually,” he swallowed, the top half of his body twisting toward the mask, hoping to reach it with his free hand. “Could I—maybe get—”

Steve halted his movements, and adamantly held him in place. The soldier's grip wasn’t any tighter than it was, but it also left zero room for argument. Gulping, the kid faced front again. Wetting his lips, he spoke again, cautiously. “Um...so...what...what happened to that Wyatt guy?”

Steve only glanced at him a moment. “He’s apprehended. I’ll fill the rest of you in later.”

The kid briefly twisted his head back behind them, then nodded a little awkwardly. “Okay, uh...cool. That’s, that’s...yeah.” Every now and again, the kid’s brown eyes would nervously flick up to Steve, then back down to the ground.

Neither of them said another word.

“Bring it in,” Bruce instructed. “Now bring it out again. Good.” While Sam sat on a rock, Bruce stood next to him, guiding his arm back and forth in a steady pace. “Now can you make a fist like this? Good, good. Turn it out for me, like this? Nicely done.”

“He alright?” Clint asked as he walked past.

Bruce nodded. “He’s suffering from a cryogenic burn, but it’s not severe. We gave the arm enough time to thaw—now we’ll just need to let it soak for 20 to 30 minutes in tepid water. Should help do the trick.”

Clint smiled and gave a pat to Sam’s good shoulder. “Knew they couldn’t keep you down for long.”

Sam sent a smile in Clint’s direction before turning back to Bruce.

“We might not have that kind of time for me to do a full on soak. Maybe I could get a t-shirt, soak it, then wrap it around my arm?”

“That could work,” Bruce nodded, briefly removing his glasses and giving them a polish. “But only if we need to pick up and move at a moment’s notice, and I don’t think we’ll need to do that. In the meantime, we can grab a few canteens, let them lay out in the sun, just enough to get ‘em lukewarm. We’ll wash your burn with soap first. Then I’d like to apply this ointment.”

He reached into the open first aid kit Maestro left them—Class B first aid—and held up a small round container. “We’re in luck, Sam, it looks like they gave us the really good stuff.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn’t disagree. The kit was advanced, and had just about anything they would need—bandages, painkillers, tweezers, gauze patches, tourniquets...burn ointment. The works.

“Ah, how they spoil us,” Barnes said as he went by. He was helping Clint retrieve his arrows.

The battle had ended in the nick of time. All at once, the ice monsters had frozen in place and collapsed onto the sand into large, broken heaps. Afterwards, the air slowly started to warm back up again, and icy sheets rolled onto the beach as the ocean started to thaw.

Bruce had spent the last twenty minutes or so patching up his teammates. Fortunately, most had come away with only a few scrapes, cuts and bruises. The real concern had been the risk of hypothermia, a problem that they quickly tended to with a change of clothes, warm blankets, and some time out in the sun.

Not one item from the supplies was damaged, largely thanks to Spider-Man’s webbing, which had long since dissolved.

“Would’ve been a good idea for everyone to relax a little, let everyone warm up slowly,” Bruce said with the general turn of his head, but he knew better. The Avengers were some of the worst patients. As soon as he fixed them up, each teammate left and went on to take care of other things.

Further down the beach, Wanda was hard at work lifting the carcasses of the monsters, and dropping them as far out into the ocean as she could without hitting the dome.

Only Natasha seemed to be decompressing. She had found a smooth, flat rock, and was lying on top of it with one leg out, and one hand tucked behind her head.

Clint frowned when he came upon her. “What are you, sunbathing?”

“I’m overdue for a good tan, figured I’d make the most if it,” Natasha replied with her eyes closed. She took a bite from one of the nutrition bars. “Mmm. S’actually pretty good. You should try one.”

“I already ate three.” Clint contained a burp in his throat, and briefly felt his stomach before moving on. “Where’s Stark anyway?”

“He went off to go retrieve the pieces of his suit that had broken off during the fight,” said Bruce, eyebrows knitted in concentration as he cleaned Sam’s arm. “He’ll need to be twice as careful in combat from now on, it’s the only weapon he’s got, aside from his mind.”

“Yeah...that goes for the rest of us, too,” Sam said, eyeing the horizon. Off to the side, his wings were splayed out on another slab of rock, under the sun. They weren’t all that damaged, now that most of the ice had melted away. Other weapons were currently being deposited next to them by Clint and Barnes. Sam then smiled at Bruce. “Except you, of course.”

Bruce squinted half-humoredly, and pressed one of the canteens against Sam’s chest, gesturing him to keep it there. “Yeah, well, trust me. Out here, Hulk is my absolute last resort, if I can help it. But who knows what Maestro’s got cooked up, so...” He bent his head down further into his work.

Sam regarded him. “You know, if you're worried, don’t be. You seem to have a good handle on it. And even if you...somehow don’t, this island can still work to your advantage. No buildings to worry about, no civilians...just trained professionals. And we all know what to expect.”

Bruce smiled, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. He stole a passing glance at Natasha, who was still enjoying the sun. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, but...you never know what to expect with the Hulk. I learned that a long time ago.”

Bruce avoided Sam’s eyes, and the man’s silence spoke volumes. But they both left it at that, for a while. The doctorwas just finishing up with Sam’s arm when Natasha sat up and shielded her eyes with her hand. “Finally.”

Bruce and Sam looked over, and they could see two silhouettes emerging from the deep jungle. They were slow going but purposeful, and it looked like one was supporting the other. “About time,” Bruce said, pausing once again to polish his glasses. “I was starting wonder if we should send someone.”

Clint lugged the last of his arrows across from across the beach and dropped them unceremoniously into the weapons pile. He exhaled, leaning his face up towards the sky. “You know what I could go for? A good, nice drink. Too bad Maestro packed only water. No coffee either. Now that I have a problem with.”

Bruce peered closer at the approaching figures. He could see now that the shorter figure had brown hair, and a rather troublesome complexion. He also seemed to be having trouble with his footing, and without warning, ended up slumping over entirely. The larger then stooped down to hook an arm underneath the other’s legs before continuing forward in a hurried pace.

Natasha stood up from her rock and her face hardened. Barnes and Wanda stopped working.

“Whiskey would be nice,” Clint continued, oblivious to the abrupt silence. “But I could go for a beer, if it were provided. I think we deserve it.” Out of his peripheral, he caught a glimpse of the blue and red of Spider-Man’s costume. He dropped one of his batons onto the pile with a flourish.

“How ‘bout you, Spider-Man, couldn’t you go for a beer…?” He turned around mid-sentence, and the relaxed smile melted off his face. Steve brought Spider-Man into full view under the sunlight, and Clint blinked. “….or a Sprite?”

‘Spider-Man’ was mumbling something to Steve, and the soldier wordlessly brushed past the others. Sam’s finger trailed after them. “Uh…” he said, but nothing else followed.

Steve brought Spider-Man to a smooth rock, and gingerly propped him up against it. “I could’ve walked, I just slipped,” the boy was saying, and Steve looked back over his shoulder. He had a few colored bruises that were in the beginning stages of healing. “Bruce, if you’re all done with Sam...Bruce!”

The doctor snapped out of the daze he was in, and his hands fumbled the front of his shirt before his mind could fully catch up. “Uh—yeah, sure, sorry,” he mumbled. He quickly went over, and his fingers plucked out a small flashlight from his pocket.

Likewise, the other Avengers also managed to break themselves from the spell they had fallen under. “Uh, blankets,” Sam muttered as he walked off, and Clint nodded. “Blankets. Yep, comin’ up.”

Bruce shone the flashlight in the kid’s eyes and fired off questions for Steve.

“Did he hit his head?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“He’s cold, probably hypothermic.”

“Yeah, but he’s doing a little better...he can’t thermoregulate.”

“I see. Did he ever lose consciousness during battle?”

“He fainted afterward, and again just now.”

“Didn’t faint,” the kid said, and his head fell back in Steve’s general direction. “Just slipped.”

Steve exhaled with the slightest bit of humor and bent down to touch the kid’s shoulder. “Alright, I believe you, son. Just take it easy.”

Bruce sat back, having checked Spider-Man’s vitals. “Pulse is returning back to normal, but you’re still shivering a little. Can I get—”

The doctor didn’t have a chance to finish, and he and Steve were temporarily shouldered out of the way as the rest of the team came over to deliver blankets. All at once, they either dropped them on the kid’s head, wrapped them around his shoulders, or spread them over his legs.

As they all stepped back, the only thing they could see now was the kid’s nose. “Mffyu, vcrnt brtth,” said the pile, and Bruce went to help him untangle his upper body. “Sorry about that, but they had the right idea,” the doctor said with a smile.

Brown curls shook free of the blanket trap, and the kid rearranged them until they settled comfortably around his shoulders. “Uh, thanks anyway…” He looked them in the eyes for the first time, and timidly scanned the group.

Behind Bruce, Sam muttered softly, “So when Tony called him ‘kid’, he really meant…”

“Yep,” Barnes said.

“And when he called him ‘squirt’, he…”

“Yep.” Barnes popped the ‘p.’

“Um…” The kid cleared his throat, correcting his voice crack. “Um, so where’s...where’s Mr. Stark?”

“He’ll be right back,” said Clint. The Avengers (Except Bruce, who sat crouched) were all now standing around the boy, not crowding, but close. No one said anything for a while.

Bruce didn’t want to call it staring—observing would be a better word—but how could they not? He looked...well, he looked like a kid. Was he? He wasn’t, surely.

Please say he isn’t.

Upon Clint’s response, the kid’s mouth thinned, and he swallowed. He looked at everyone warily before dropping his eyes, as if embarrassed.

Tony, why? Bruce’s mind groaned, but he forced a smile. “I’m just gonna ask you a few questions for medical reasons...that okay?”

Waves of self frustration seemed to radiate from the kid, and he heaved a deep, labored sigh. Still, he nodded, and scratched at his nose. “Okay.”

“Okay. Can you tell me your name?...Okay, you don’t have to answer that one. You remember your hero name then?”

The boy fidgeted and wrapped the blankets even closer around himself. Even through his stubborn reluctance, he had to know that there was no sense in denying anything now. He snuck a glance at Bruce. Don’t laugh, his eyes seemed to say.

“Spider-Man.”

Wanda pinched at Sam’s arm, and the veteran bit his lip to keep his mouth from curling.

“Do you know where you are, Spider-Man?” Bruce asked.

The kid shrugged a little. “I don’t know... Hydra Island, I guess? I’m not exactly sure.”

There was a soft snort from Clint, and Bruce nodded. “That’s okay, it’s a fair assessment. You feel dizzy at all, or nauseous?”

“...a little. Dizzy, I mean. But not that much.”

“Alright. You recognize anyone around you?”

“Well... yeah. You’re the Avengers. Of course I know you guys.”

Looking down at him as if he were a peculiar but interesting piece of artwork at a museum, Wanda neared closer and tilted her head, curious. “How old are you?”

The kid’s head jerked toward her, and then looked to Bruce, who raised his eyebrows. “Actually...if you don’t mind, I think I’ll wait for Mr. Stark before I answer any more questions...thanks.”

“Why, is he your lawyer?” Sam joked, but the kid clammed up.

Wanda looked out toward the bamboo fields. Then she announced, “I will go and get him.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Clint said.

The kid watched her go almost longingly before going back to gazing down at his lap.

They should really stop staring.

Natasha, who had left sometime during the exchange, returned with a protein bar. She leaned down and offered it to their newcomer. “Here.”

Something flickered across the kid’s face as he looked at the bar in front of him, hunger realized. He hesitated.

Natasha smiled a little. “Oh, come on...don’t tell me you still believe in cooties.”

The kid started. “No—no, of course not.” His gloved hand hastily accepted the bar and he peeled away at the wrapper. “And that’s...that’s kid stuff, anyway.”

“Well aren’t you?” Sam asked, eyebrows high.

“Aren’t I what?”

“Come on, now. You couldn’t be more than...what? Fourteen? Twelve maybe?”

The kid flushed red. “Mmm!? M’not Twelfh!”

“What, were you raised in a barn?” Clint asked, eyebrows wrinkled. “Chew your food first.”

The kid quickly chewed and swallowed. “I said I’m not twelve!”

“Then how old are you, kid?” Barnes asked. The sun flashed against the metal as he folded his arms.

“Miss Maximoff asked that already. And I’m not a kid.”

“Ohh, you’re not? So what college do you go to then?” Sam asked. “Or can’t you say? You employed anywhere? Hmm? Pay any taxes lately?”

The kid’s mouth opened and closed before snapping shut. He probably knew any answer he gave would just incriminate him further.

Sam turned his attention to Steve. “So what happened out there?”

“Let’s just say if I never see ice again…” Steve shook his head and looked out toward the ocean. “Anyway, he’s gone. The tower had a pod, and it was magnetized. He got pulled in after we disarmed him. Whatever happens to him now is up to Maestro.”

Clint frowned. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Well what was his deal, did he say?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Revenge, recognition. Had a chip on his shoulder. He was just a link in the chain, anyway. There will be others.”

“Huh,” said Sam. “Well, good riddance, then. What about his name, did you get that at least?”

“His name’s Wyatt,” the kid said, his self imposed vow of silence already forgotten about. “He said he was Gabriel Jones’ secret grandson...y’know one of the Howlers?”

Everyone turned to Steve with shocked eyes. The solider kept his quiet gaze on the ocean. “Anyway,” said the kid, “After we beat him, we flicked the switch and everything, so...that’s one beacon down.”

“Well,” Barnes said after a silence. “Good work then.”

The kid flashed him a small smile before looking warily at Natasha, who had knelt down in front of him. She was staring, and so was Bruce. They were both grave.

“You see that?” Natasha murmured.

“I do.”

“Steve.”

Steve, having recognized the tone of the spy’s voice, appeared at her side instantly. “What is it?”

“Look closely.”

Steve’s eyes darkened after a moment. “I see it.”

The kid’s eyes darted back and forth. “W...What? What?” The rest of the group gathered close, and their faces dropped, one by one. Barnes muttered a curse. The kid was getting freaked out now. “What?”

Clint left, and Steve shifted closer. “Son, you said that you had advanced healing ability.”

The kid blinked. “I do.” He felt his face. “Why, what’s wrong?”

Clint returned, and gave the kid a hand mirror from the supplies.

The kid gawked at his reflection. On each of his temples were small electrode marks. They had nearly faded entirely, but the kid’s pale complexion made them stand out all the more. Riveted, the kid tenderly touched each mark. “I...I don’t even feel anything.”

“What do you remember, son?” Steve asked. His voice had softened a touch.

The kid looked back at him, bewildered and scared. He went to open his mouth, but turned his head suddenly.

Steve stood up.

Several moments later, two figures came striding out from the bamboo field.

Tony must have seen the rigid half circle that was forming and knew what was in store for him. Still, he didn’t slow his gait; he walked straight toward them, with a small bundle of metal scraps tucked underneath one arm, and a battered iron suitcase swaying from the other.

He shrugged his eyebrows, and he received hard glares in return. “Well,” he said, going over to place his gathered belongings down by the other weapons. He dusted off his hands with a sigh. “Looks like the cat’s out of the bag.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Clint said.

The kid had wobbled to his feet with at least one blanket in his grasp, and the billionaire noticed how pale he looked. His confidence seemed to take a momentary hit, and was instantly by the kid’s side. “Hey kiddo,” he said lightly, but his eyes roved carefully over him. Concerned hands skipped onto various spots on the boy’s arms and shoulders. “You alright? You’re colder than Siberia.”

The kid’s brown eyes were guilty. “Mr. Stark, I’m really sorry. It happened so fast, and one moment I was awake and the next—”

Tony shook his head. “Hey—don’t sweat it. Alright? We both knew it had to happen eventually. Hmm?” The kid nodded reluctantly toward the ground, and Tony gave him a firm pat on the back. “What happened to the heater, did you use it all?”

“Yeah, I...kinda had to. There was this ice wall, and I couldn’t get through...anyway, I think the suit’s okay, but the heater’s at zero…sorry.”

Tony nodded. “Well, no biggie then. Had to be done.” He took the ends of the blanket and fixed it more securely around the kid’s shoulders before tapping the side of his jaw with a closed fist. “Chin up, you did good.”

He then looked back up toward the others quizzically. “So where’s the Perp?”

“Tony,” Natasha warned.

“No, seriously, where is he? Did we get him, or is he, y’know, iced? No offense to him.”

“Tony—”

“Don’t tell me you lost him, that we have to go gallivanting across the island for some—”

“He’s contained,” Steve said curtly.

Tony blinked. “Contained? What does that mean, contained? Like what, in a cave? Did you net him up in some tree, did you dig a pit somewhere? Come on, you gotta give me a lot more than—”

“I don’t think you’re the one in need of explanation here, Tony,” said Bruce. His forehead was wrinkled, and he wore a tight frown.

Tony took in the faces around him and reluctantly exhaled through his nose, lips pursed. He looked back at Bruce, and the admittance of I know went unsaid.

The kid leaned over and said something to Tony in a hushed whisper, and the billionaire quirked a dry smile at the sand. Then he said to the rest of them, “So you all have questions.”

“Yeah, I have a few,” Sam said. “First question being...are you kidding me? No, seriously! He’s Spider-Man? And you knew about it? Stark, he’s a freaking middle schooler!”

The kid bristled. “Dude, I’m fifteen!” His hand then flew to his mouth, and he abruptly looked up at Tony. “I mean—” It was too late, but the kid’s hands were already gesturing wildly in attempt to enact some damage control. “Technically, I’m fifteen in a half...my birthday’s in two months, like literally August...so really, I’m, I’m practically sixteen, when you...when you think about it.” He finished with a weak cringe, and Tony solemnly pinched the bridge of his nose.

The Avengers were silent.

“Fifteen,” Clint said breezily. “How ‘bout that. Three years older than my son.”

There was a pause, and the kid did a double take. “Wait, you have a son?!”

“Two sons, in fact,” Tony said, sending a spark of pure irritation through the rest of the team. “And a whole wife and daughter.”

“What!?”

“Mind-blowing, isn’t it?”

“Tony,” Steve said.

Meanwhile, Barnes’ eyes squinted half shut. He seemed terribly confused. “So in Germany...you had us fight a High schooler?”

Tony turned a searing gaze onto the winter solider. “I didn’t have you fight anything, Barnes. And clearly, age wasn’t a factor when he bodied you and Wilson at the airport.”

“Bodied?” Sam echoed, arching his eyebrows Spider-Man’s way.

“Son,” said Steve, and a storm seemed to be simmering underneath the surface, “Where are your parents?”

The kid twisted his hands. “I live with my aunt.”

“Does she know you’re doing this?”

“Well, yeah...but she didn’t find out until later. I wasn’t planning on telling her, like at all. But I kinda left the door open, and I didn’t really check to see if she was home, and I was...anyway, she, she walked in on me. But that was totally my bad, I really should’ve just shut the—”

“Wait a minute,” Tony interrupted, and he was staring. “Wait a minute, turn around—what is that?”

“Tony, before you—” Bruce cautioned, but Tony made the kid face him.

“No, what is that?” He pushed the kid’s brown curls aside with a calloused hand and zeroed in on the faint electrode marks on his temples. “Kid? What—”

Wanda gasped, and her hand went to cover her mouth, but it froze in midair. “What have they done?”

“I don’t know.” The kid shook his head at Tony. “It just showed up—”

“Who did this?”

“I don’t know!”

“You remember nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Parker, look me in the eye and tell me the truth. If you’re covering for someone—”

“I’m not! I swear, I—Mr. Stark, wait, it’s not a big—Mr. Stark!” Tony stormed past them all, and despite everyone’s objections, marched over to the supplies and rummaged through them.

“Where’s that stupid—”

“Tony,” said Natasha, “Before you do or say anything idiotic—”

“Not now, Romanoff….know it’s here somewhere—ah.” He plucked out the walkie talkie and brought it close to his mouth as he pressed the button. “Maestro, you there? Hey, hi, it’s me again. Listen, I knew you were a coward, but you’ve actually managed to set a new bar for yourself, haven’t you? Oh, you’re not answering? Too busy coming up with more brilliant schemes? That’s fine—I’m sure you’ll have plenty to say when I finally have the pleasure of meeting you face to face, man to scum.”

“Tony,” hissed Sam, but Wanda held back a hand.

“Let him,” she mouthed. Bruce turned and raked both hands through his hair. Steve was marching towards Tony.

“You know, I’m actually glad you’re surveilling us, and I’m glad you’re sending more of those clowns of yours for me to demolish. Because when I destroy each and every one of them—and you know I will— you’ll at least have an inkling of what’s gonna be in store for you in the near future. Mull over that while you can.” Tony then removed his finger and tossed it to Steve before it could be snatched away from him. The billionaire passed him without so much as looking back. “Don’t worry, I kept it PG.”

Steve frowned back at him, and briefly tightened his fingers over the walkie before placing it back into the pile.

Sam had his eyebrows up, and Clint shared a bemused look with Natasha. He came back up to the kid, who stared up at him wide-eyed. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Y-yeah...doesn’t even hurt,” the kid said, shaking his head in assurance. He paused, then lowered his voice. “It...should’ve healed by now though, shouldn’t it? I mean, I’ve had a lot worse and the scars are usually gone by morning.”

“...I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. But, yeah. It should’ve.”

The group was silent again, but with the silence came with something else—something the billionaire couldn’t ignore or hold off, not anymore.

Not acknowledging but being fully aware of the folded arms and pointed glares, Tony sighed heavily. “Anyway, you look like death.” He jerked his thumb backward. “Go find some clothes, grab a blanket, sit in the sun for a while. The rest of us are gonna have a talk.”

The kid looked around at the others. “Wait, what about? Shouldn’t I come with?” He must have caught on to the seriousness of the situation, and he fully intended on staying—but one look from Tony was enough to shut it down.

“None of your business. Off you go now.”

“Why?”

“Why—because I said so, that’s why!”

Clint’s head whipped toward Tony and he looked like he was about to burst out laughing. He didn’t, but he was close. Tony ignored him.

“Clothes kid, get to it.”

The boy was clearly unhappy, but nodded once with a sigh. “Yes, Sir.”

Head down, he cut through the group on the way to the supplies. Bruce rolled up his sleeves. He was still looking at Tony over his glasses, but addressed the boy. “I’ll help you out after you change.”

Meanwhile, Steve leaned in close and whispered in Wanda’s ear. She nodded after a moment. “I will be back,” she said, and moved a few paces down the beach. With the glow of her hands, she flew off above the trees and was gone.

Barnes, who was observing the scene before him, seemed to come to his own conclusion. He cleared his throat and gestured a hand. “I’m gonna...dry off my weapons. Then I’ll start packing.” He exchanged a look with Steve, and the captain gave a nod of acceptance.

“We won’t be long.”

Tony rolled his eyes—a gesture no one else in his position would dare make. The kid returned with an arm full of clothes, and before he went off behind the trees, Steve called to him. “Son. Here.” He pulled something from his back pocket and held it up. It was the Spider-Man mask.

Adjusting the bundle, the kid reached up and grasped the mask with his fingers. “Thanks…” In spite of Tony’s stern glare, which told him to get a move on, the kid addressed the group and lifted his mask in greeting. “I’m Peter, by the way...Peter Parker.”

He quickly disappeared into the green before Tony could say a word.

They all looked after Peter long after he was gone.

“Nice to meet you,” said Bruce.

They had come far out to the edge of the beach and gathered around in a spot in the shade where the banyan trees were thickest. With a contained sigh, Tony reached up and gripped one of the ariel roots that sprung from the tree, and let himself hang a little. They were far enough so that little spider ears wouldn’t overhear them, but Rogers still kept his voice low.

“Tony, he is a boy.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

Steve moved forward. “Tony—”

Romanoff placed a hand to stay him. “Calm. Down.” The possibility that Peter could still hear them went unsaid. Unfounded maybe, but it was another added worry piled on top of many.

Tony waved a hand. “Look, here’s the truth. Before you read me the riot act, put yourself in my shoes, just for a second. Barnes had just escaped custody. Rogers was nowhere to be found, and had possibly gone rouge. Ross is tearing me a new one, and I have just 36 hours to bring in Cap and his comrades. Soon after, I get a call, and guess what? Maximoff just jumped ship, and with Barton’s help of all people.”

Clint’s mouth twitched, just a little.

“Granted, we still had a few good hitters, but we were undermanned. I—we needed a little more muscle. Someone who could go toe to toe with other enhanced without risk of serious injury.”

“So...you brought a High schooler,” said Sam. “Really? That was your only option? There are others out there, Tony, you knew that. Why him?”

“There were,” Tony drawled out, watching a bug crawl on a nearby branch, “But, the superhero world is small, and with someone of my...distinguished reputation...and admittedly past oopsies... I was already at a severe disadvantage in that arena. And besides that, many of those individuals had their own thing going on. Separate agendas, certain loyalties, reservations. I was on the clock, and I didn’t have the time to try and convince everyone to come with.

“Spider-Man had only popped up recently, and had no such attachments or hang ups, as far as I knew. Additionally, he had already been fighting crime on his own for a few months. He was good—inexperienced, but good. Figured I’d give him a sneak peak of what his future could look like, and at the same time, bring my own heavy hitter into the ring. Two birds, one stone.”

“Here’s what I have a hard time with,” Sam said. “If boy wonder said that his Aunt only found out his identity recently, and our fight in Germany happened a year ago, then…” He let his wrist bend in the air, and everyone’s minds started to fill in the blank. “There’s...no way she gave him permission to go.”

Everyone looked to the billionaire.

“Tony?” said Clint.

The man’s foot bounced rapidly, and he opened and closed his fists. “I told her about it afterward.”

Nearby, a tree frog sounded off a few mating calls. Fingers of sunbeams hit various parts of their bodies, and one in particular shone on Roger’s hair in a golden halo. “Tony...they could get you on kidnapping at best.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Rogers.”

“So what should we call it then?” asked Romanoff, tilting her head. “A spontaneous field trip that his guardian had no knowledge of?”

“Alright, spare me, okay? I’ve already been through all this with May. Bottom line, he was never in any real danger. He was being supervised the whole time, and he barely had a scratch on him at the end of it. Heck, I walked away with more bruises than he did.”

“That still doesn’t absolve you, Tony!” Rogers said, and while he spoke, Bruce Banner appeared from around a tree. Natasha and Sam both shifted to the side, allowing the doctor to enter their loose huddle. Tony eyed him as he settled himself down on a boulder. “He’s fifteen. He shouldn’t have been there at all!”

“Bruce,” Tony sniffed, and Cap’s jaw clenched at being ignored, “Thought you were looking after the kid.”

“He’s alright,” Bruce nodded. “Wanda just got back, and she’s keeping an eye on him.”

Their eyes didn’t waver from one another, and the doc didn’t so much as blink. Tony then threw his hand in the air before letting it fall against his leg with a slap. “Fine. Great. More the merrier, let everyone get their punches in, get it out of the way so it doesn't have to come up again.”

There was a brief, awkward suspension before Wilson spoke again. “So where did he get his powers from anyway? Was he born with them, or..?”

Tony shook his head. “Not my origin story to tell. You’ll have to ask the kid.”

“And he would tell us that you had nothing to do with it,” Bruce said. “No accidents, no...experiments?”

Tony’s neck twisted sharply as he looked toward Bruce. It had eluded him before, but now he could finally place what had been lingering behind that stare of his. Something Tony had never seen directed at him before, at least not from the doctor.

Distrust.

Horror turned into disgust, and disgust flamed to anger.

“Oh, sure, Banner. Sure, I just...yanked some random kid off the streets of Queens and made him my own personal lab rat. And right underneath the noses of Pepper, and Rhodes and Hogan no less. That would take some real clever work on my part, wouldn’t it? You’re absolutely right Banner, he’s a freak experiment of mine, one of many, because I just happen to have that kind of time on my hands, and oh yeah, I’m just that morally capable!”

He ran a shaky hand over his hair, and he turned his back on them for a while.

Clint’s voice was unfazed. “Random kid from Queens, you say. So he’s not yours.”

The billionaire's mind blanked a moment. He spun back around before the cogs could fully turn again, and his eyes fluttered rapidly as he tried to process exactly what Barton just said. “Excuse me, what?”

Clint shrugged. “Look, it’s not like we’re entitled to know anything and everything about each other. There’s some things we keep close to the vest, I get that. But at this point—”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I won’t judge! None of us will. Just be honest about it, that’s all.”

“What—absolutely—you know what Barton, do me a favor and just—shh. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the next six hours.”

“So you’re denying it?” Steve asked.

Tony was nearly at a loss for words, and he had to keep from barking out a laugh. “When did this turn into Maury all of a sudden? What’s there to deny? We don’t even—let alone—” He stopped himself, and took a deep breath. “You’re just gonna have to take my word for it. If not, I don’t know what to tell you. Geez, I think I liked it better when I was being accused of human experimentation.”

“You can’t truly blame us for wanting to clarify,” Romanoff said. “When you fell from that wormhole Tony, none of us thought that you’d walk away from that experience scott free. And even though it’s not our nature to pry into each other’s business, we could tell that something was going on with you. Even your relationship with Pepper was affected.”

Tony was already exhausted with this talk. He came around a swooping branch, and briefly inspected it, swiping off specks of dirt with a finger.

Romanoff continued though, knowing full well that Tony was still listening. “I’d hear things here and there. Breakdowns. Self isolation. Long hours in the workshop, lack of sleep. After you destroyed all those suits you made, I figured maybe it was a step in the right direction. But then came Sokovia, and...now you show up with this boy who can climb walls and can lift a hundred times his body weight, possibly even more.”

“What are you suggesting, that I’ve somehow lost it?” Tony said, trying to sound bored.

“Either that or you’ve become a massive hypocrite. First you come to us pleading your case about signing the Accords. You show us a picture of Charlie Spencer—remember him? The kid who lost his life because of our actions? At the time, I truly thought you were being sincere. You even named the drills after him. But then you turn around and bring another kid into the fray.”

“That’s different—”

“Is it?”

Bruce rocked forward a little as he looked up at her. “Not that I don’t agree, but didn’t you yourself recruit a little girl spy to lure me out in the open when we met?”

A flash of irritation crossed Romanoff’s face. “That girl was already in deep. Eight years old and already a spy of repute. Her file was extensive. By then, there was nothing anyone could have done to change that. But I figured that having her help recruit you would give her the opportunity to do something good. Turn her life around.”

Her eyes locked back onto Tony. “But that’s not the case with Peter. He’s chosen to do what he does, but Tony, if whatever happened to him is the result of some psychotic break—”

“Okay, stop.” He held up a hand in the air and let it linger. “If you’re all quite finished. My turn now.”

He put his hand down into his pocket and looked down at the ground a moment. “When Peter Parker first came to my attention, my first thought was to see if he was a potential candidate for a spot on the team. Once I made sure he checked out, the plan was to possibly set up a meet—give him the chance to get to know the team, and vice versa. Of course he was young, and this was new territory, but I thought once everyone got acquainted with him, maybe we could set something up. But then Lagos happened. And then the Accords happened. Then Barnes happened...and then and then and then.”

The others watched him in silence. Roger’s face was unreadable.

“But the biggest ‘and then’ came when over half of the Avengers skipped town. And suddenly the joint effort, the team effort I had in mind was effectively shot to sunshine.”

His thumb trailed along the bottom of his lip, and with great reluctance, admitted, “God knows I wanted to back out then. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew that I ultimately couldn’t. Not when I got to know him. Kid had a good head on his shoulders, but he had no real direction, no guidance...no one to make sure he stayed on the right path. If I didn’t step in, someone else would have. So, unfortunately for Pete, he was effectively stuck with me.”

He took time to look each and every one of his teammates right in the eye. “See, that’s the trouble when you’re the one left cleaning up everyone’s messes. Believe it or not, I had other matters that called for my attention. Oh, and, as it turns out, I’m not exactly the best role model in the world. I’ve got plenty of good pointers, but I never planned on doing this thing solo. And that was the trouble, wasn’t it? When you all skipped out, you skipped out on everyone, upcoming heroes included. People who could have used your help.”

His words hung out in the hot and heavy air.

“Sucks having to be the responsible one,” Tony said.

No one said anything for a while, until Steve stepped forward, eyes glinting strangely under the shifting shadows. “Regardless of all that, Tony...you still put him in the line of fire. I ended up having to face him. I could have killed him.”

“But you didn’t.” Tony wagged a finger. “And you wouldn’t have. I knew you wouldn’t go all out on a new recruit.”

“Anything can happen in battle, Tony,” Steve said, voice raising. “Do you really need me to remind you of the consequences of a fight gone wrong?” The image of Rhodey’s ashen, bloody face invaded his mind against his will. Tony’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and his jaw locked.

Only a flutter of regret passed through Roger’s countenance, but the soldier went on. “Even worse, the rest of us didn’t know we were fighting a child. Only you knew that. If anything else went sour, we would’ve walked away with a kid’s blood on our hands. That’s not a choice you just get to make for the rest of us.”

“You talk about him like he’s just any kid off the block,” said Tony. “You’ve seen him in action yourself, Rogers, so you know you can’t baby him. Like Romanoff said, it’s the path he’s chosen for himself.”

“I have seen him in action,” Steve said. “No doubt that was part of your plan, sending him to team up with me. And despite my reservations...I don’t exaggerate when I say that he’ll be one of our best, if he’s not already.”

The others looked at him in surprise, Tony included. Steve remained somber, however. “He’s smart, strong. Quick on his feet. If we were rescued today, I’d personally offer him a spot on the team for one of our next missions. And that’s what makes it so awful.”

The two men held each other’s gaze. One could have sworn that it was just Tony and Steve, and no one else.

“I get it. This is what he wants. And yes, a place on the team could very well be in his future. But here’s the real bottom line, Tony. When you found him, you could have let him keep doing what he was doing. Better yet, you could have mentored him right there in New York. Let him get better over the years. But instead, you took an inexperienced teenager out of the state, out of the country and put him into a fight he had no understanding of. And the worst part? You threw a spotlight on him that otherwise wouldn’t be there. And now he’s here, on this island, with us.”

A long pause followed, and Tony ran a slow hand around his mouth and down his chin. He couldn’t exactly place what this feeling was, but it was akin to the stinging after-blow of a severe tongue lashing from his Father. Familiar, sub emotions came with it...defensiveness, fury, sorrow...desperate inner pride. It always left a hollow smallness that couldn’t be filled, no matter what sort of foolish, expensive pleasantries he tried to fill it with.

Still, he drew himself up. His voice came quietly. “He was never meant to get hurt. He will not get hurt. Not in the way he has been already.”

“Tony,” Natasha said, and despite the clear warning in her voice, there was an undertone of softness, of pity. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But, my protege, my business. The rest of you, keep your noses out of it.”

“So none of us have to play babysitter?” Sam asked.

“You worry about yourself, Wilson, and let me worry about the kid.”

Sam raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, then. Fine.”

“Fine,” Clint nodded. “We’ll hold you to it.”

“Fantastic.”

Steve moved closer. The crunch of leaves beneath the soldier’s shoes served as prelude to what he was about to say. “I don’t know exactly what kind of relationship the two of you have. But Peter...he trusts you. I see it in his eyes. All I can say is, should the worst case scenario happen...you be there for him. And if you have even the slightest idea of what to say to his Aunt if this ends badly...you hash it out now. She deserves that much.”

Then the soldier disappeared through the branches.

In the silence, Tony noticed a tiny beetle crawling on his arm. Reaching over with his other hand, he took his thumb and squashed it.

They headed back down to the beach. On the way there, Steve could hear Natasha quietly filling Tony in on what happened with Wyatt. Tony nodded along, but said nothing. Upon arrival, everyone gathered together in small, separate bunches.

Peter, who was now dressed in a dark blue sweatshirt with long sleeves, ran up to greet Tony. His step was stronger, and color was already back in his cheeks. Steve saw Tony’s small smile, and he inadvertently listened in on their conversation. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh, great,” Peter nodded. “Better now.” He looked Tony up and down, and brought his fist against his palm. “So uh...what’d you guys talk about?”

Tony waved a hand in the direction they just came from. “Nothing important. Just who we’re going to eat first, should food get scarce.”

Peter’s eyebrows scrunched together.

“The ice is cleared from the tower like you asked,” Wanda was saying to Steve. He blinked and reinforced his attention back to her.

“Good,” he nodded. “Good, thank you.”

Little by little, they converged into one collective group. Nine in all.

It was late afternoon now, if the sun was anything to go by. The sand, trees and mountains were plated in a hazy golden color. The blue-green ocean rolled in and receded. Heat and humidity made their hair slightly damp and sticky, and the gritty, unpleasant sensation of sand shifted around inside their shoes.

As the wind sighed around them, so too did the minds of the Avengers as the realization dawned. Steve could feel it in the air, and he could see it in everyone’s faces.

Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and the kid offered a small smile up at him. They had known it before, but now it was really starting to sink in. Fact was, they were indeed stranded on this island, and with no clear hope for outside communication or rescue. This would be their place of residence, for the time being. Until a better solution was found.

“So, what’s the plan, where are we?” Sam asked.

Tony cleared his throat, grabbing everyone’s attention. “After our harrowing battle with Mr. Wyatt, I consulted with FRIDAY.” He then slung a finger in one direction, toward the trees. “From where we’re standing, nearest beacon is about 30 miles North of here, in the jungle. Might not sound difficult, but when you take our current situation into account...could take us a hot minute.”

Clint nodded toward the ground, thinking. “Too many variables to consider. Weather, terrain, elevation change, mud, rocks, possibility of quicksand. Not to mention all the gear we need to haul with us. And who knows what kind of wildlife is lurking around in the jungle.”

There was a discussion then, on how they would need to go about it. Wanda volunteered to run ahead of them and see if she couldn’t flick the next switch herself, but that was quickly met with dissent. Even at her fastest, there was no telling what she would find out there in the jungle, and no one would be able to come to her aid quick enough, should the worst happen.

The same could be said if they were to split up into small groups. Separation would only invite even more risk. The best way, the safest way, was that they would all move forward as a team. Strength in numbers.

“Alright then,” Steve said at last. “Let’s get moving.”

The team broke away again, and Bruce knocked into him and firmly pulled him aside so that he could tend to his injuries.

Besides the bounty, Maestro had left them various backpacks to take with them on their journey. Everyone went up and snagged one that seemed suited to them, and started packing.

Steve would sneak glances at Tony and Peter, who folded their T-shirts together in silence.

Before long, the last toothbrush had been packed away, and the last blanket rolled. It took some expert maneuvering and a bit of stuffing and cramming on their part, but they managed. Not one item was left behind on the beach.

When everyone was loaded up, they slowly started down the beach in a single file. The plan was to stay out of the jungle for as long as possible before eventually cutting into the trees for the last stretch.

Bucky, himself and Peter moved ahead with ease, but the others soon began to lug across the sand with labored steps, and there were some grunts of effort here and there.

Steve would occasionally glance back and estimate to himself how far he could push everyone; The front of Bruce’s shirt was already wet with sweat, and Tony was huffing and puffing along. Sam and Natasha were faring better, but their foreheads glistened. Further into their hike, Wanda started assisting the others by having her red tendrils scoop under their backpacks to help ease their burdens. But walking for hours across the sand still took its toll.

“I’m starting to hate sand now,” Sam huffed after while.

“I hate sand,” Peter said, and smiled a little. “It’s coarse, and rough, and irritating...and it gets everywhere.”

Sam looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It was near sunset when Steve held up a fist. “Alright, take five, team.” Sighs of relief rose behind him, and bags were flung down. “We’ll have about 30 minutes before it gets dark, so we need to cover as much ground as possible.”

No one replied as they got out their canteens and drank hungrily. Bucky came over while taking a sip. “So,” he said, barely even out of breath. “Gabe’s grandson.”

Steve took a swig and recapped his canteen. “Yeah.”

“Did Gabe even know about him?”

“I don't think so. He would've mentioned it if he did.”

“Hmm.” Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “He still alive?”

“He is.”

“Gosh. He oughta be...what, ninety-two?”

“Ninety-four next week.”

“Hmm. You know with all that’s been going on, I didn’t even think to try and reconnect with people I knew before.”

“Well, like you said. You’ve had a lot going on. And you might still get the chance, when all of this is over.”

“Yeah, maybe. If they don’t keel over on me first.” Bucky smiled, and so did Steve, but it was weighed. “It doesn’t get any less weird...everyone our age having already lived out their lives.. sometimes I feel like I’m still learning.”

Steve nodded vaguely. “I know what you mean.”

Bucky studied him, and his smile softened into a sympathetic quirk. “Hey, I’m sorry about Wyatt.”

“I barely knew him,” said Steve.

“I know. Still sorry though.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Steve then left Bucky to his water and went further down to run a visual check on the team. He gave a weary Bruce a pat on the shoulder; the doctor was sitting on top of his backpack and was sluggishly unfastening the buttons near his neck. The doctor nodded hastily at him, communicating without words that he was fine.

With a smile, Steve moved on. Clint and Natasha were talking, both exhausted looking, but fine. Wanda fanned herself with a hand, and Sam took the time to stretch. Steve stood off by them and exchanged a few words here and there, but diverted part of his attention to the last two bringing up the rear.

“Mr. Stark, come on,” Peter was saying thought clenched teeth, but Tony shook his head. “Nope. Go over there, have a sit.” He pointed at a spot in front of a large cracked stone.

“But—”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Sit.”

Sighing and slumping his shoulders, Peter dragged his feet over. Steve found himself moving a bit closer as Tony knelt down and carefully rolled back Peter’s pant leg. A cut gleamed bright red.

“Care to tell me when you were you planning on mentioning this?” Tony asked.

“I was gonna,” Peter assured. “…okay, I wasn’t. But, seriously, Mr. Stark, it’s just a scratch.”

“That’s no good, Peter, you should’ve told me,” Bruce said, trying not to stumble as he hauled the first aid kit down toward them. “And scratches can be serious. If there’s one thing that’ll kill us out here, it’s infection.”

“Listen to the Doc,” Tony said, pointing a finger at Bruce. “Here, I’ve got it covered. Just hand me that. And that canteen there, yep. Skedaddle Banner, I got it.” He poured water on Peter’s cut and he tried not to hiss. “Pete, next time you get a cut like this, tell me.”

“Mr. Stark, ‘m not a little kid anymore,” Peter groaned.

“Hey, same goes for all of us,” Tony said as he applied pressure. “If any one of us gets hurt or injured, the rest of us need to know about it.”

“Yeah, but heroes like Captain America or Black Widow don’t tell everyone when they get a cut. Seriously, I don’t need to mention every time I get a bump or bruise or something...and besides, I’m enhanced.” He squeezed the top of his leg as Tony applied a bandage. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Tony looked up at him for a moment, then refocused on the leg. A thought passed behind his eyes as he did so. “Alright, despite the fact that we’re on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, we’re still relatively civilized individuals. So, like any civilized group of people away from home, we’re gonna set up a few ground rules.”

“What, like for all of us?”

Tony nodded in a so-so kind of way. “Well, yes, in a sense. But some might apply to some more than others...might even be just a couple of you...it’s mostly you.”

Peter huffed a little and rolled his eyes.

“Rule number one: Always tell me about your injuries, I don’t care how small or insignificant it might seem. If you hurt your ankle, or if your nose somehow bleeds, or even if you get a hangnail, I wanna know about it. Actually, that’s rule number two. Rule number one is, no throwing yourself into danger, just because you’re enhanced. Okay? No jumping in the way of lasers and swords and crap.”

“...But what if—”

“No what if’s, Parker. Yes, you can take more than the lot of us. But you’re not a shield, and you’re not bulletproof. Understand me?”

“I understand, but...but Mr. Stark, I’m crazy strong. If something happens, and I’m able to stop it—”

“Not with your body you don’t,” Tony interrupted sharply. “You assess the situation, you calmly assess the situation, and then you come up with a plan. No running in head first and brains last. Besides, there’s...look, there’s no telling what they did...back there.”

No one had to mention Maestro.

“We don’t know what is and isn’t a factor yet. So, no writing checks you know you can’t cash. Find another way. Capisce?”

“Capisce,” Peter sighed, losing the staring contest with Tony’s raised eyebrows. “I just...I just wanna help you guys out.” The shrug in his voice turned into determination. “No matter what happens, I’ve got your back. A hundred percent.”

Tony smiled, and Steve thought it looked sad, but he couldn’t tell for sure. “I know you are, kid. However, that brings me to rule number three.”

Peter looked up sharply, and Tony moved a little closer, making absolute certain that his protege was paying attention. “If at any point the situation looks bleak, or if things look particularly dire and there’s no possible way for us to get out of it...I need you to go. I need you to run, and finish the mission.” His voice gradually raised, and Peter had been shaking his head mid sentence.

“No. No, no—”

“Yes. Parker, yes.”

“Mr. Stark, no way, you cannot ask me to do that!”

“I’m not asking, I’m telling. It’s worse case scenario—”

“In any scenario it’s wrong, I can’t believe you’re asking me to go against everything I—”

“Hey. Will you zip it for one second, and let me finish?”

Peter’s mouth pressed, and he looked down. An aggravated sigh blew out through his nose.

Tony looked at the top of Peter’s head a moment. His shoulders went down a little, and he rubbed at his chin with a thumb. “Pete, look at me.”

Their eyes met.

“We’ve...I know we haven’t known each other for that long, and all of this is...it’s sudden. It’s crazy, psycho, full on bananas. Look, I know what you’re about, and I know you want to be a hero. You are one. No one wants to take that away from you, least of all me. At the same time kid...like it or not, out here, you’re my responsibility.”

They regarded each other, and they seemed to soften each other up the longer they looked. Steve felt something stir inside him unexpectedly. Despite the boy’s frustration, Peter still emitted a trust so deep, that it was almost painful.

“And think of May back home. If she knew you and I were together, she’d count on me to step in where she can’t. I know you don’t need any reminders, but she only has you.”

Peter nodded downward. “I know.”

Tony's voice softened further, half against his will. “Like you said kid, we’re in this thing together—though there might come a time when we need to separate for some reason or another. The last thing I need is to worry about whether or not you’re making decisions that would put your life in danger. I can’t focus and do my job otherwise.”

“I understand,” said Peter, and he bobbed his head. “And you don’t need to worry. I’ve got this. You know I do.”

Tony nodded. “Yep. That I do.” Smiling, the billionaire lightly slapped the space underneath Peter’s ear. “Good. Got your leg all fixed up, try not to lean too much on it.”

“‘Kay. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it...Now pretend I have the strength to stand us both up, my knees are on fire.”

Peter laughed a little and gave Tony a hand.

Steve waited a little while longer before strapping his backpack back on. “Alright, let’s move, team.” The soldier lead the bunch further along the beach with a firm and assured step. But inside, he was left shaky and confused. Just how much did he miss while he was away? The way he looked at Peter, it was…warm. Almost parental.

In all the years he had known Tony, he had never...Steve had seen him with Pepper, and that woman absolutely had his heart. But this was something else. Something different.

The others, did they notice? They must have. The lot of them had kept up personal conversations and remarks during the entire exchange, but they were also professionals in ways of surveillance. They absolutely heard what was said.

Steve hadn’t been sure what to make of their relationship, but at the same time, he was no fool. That Spider-Man suit had Tony written all over it. Building and making things was his passion. Building and making things for others was a genuine sign of care.

And with all the sub functions and gadgets the suit had…

And while he thought about it, Steve suddenly realized part of the reason why Tony was so willing to send Peter with him to the beacon. The kid would need to learn how to flip the switch himself, should he find himself alone by the end of this. As usual, Tony was a half step ahead of everyone else.

The soldier felt a little bit of shame for eavesdropping on them. But he couldn’t help wanting to learn more. There were just too many mysteries surrounding the two, despite what he’d heard from Tony. Maybe later on, he’d get Peter’s side of things.

Steve smiled a little to himself. Funnily enough, he hadn’t felt this out of the loop since he was first pulled from the ice.

Night eventually fell, and the Avengers set up camp. They sat around the campfire, feasting on another round of protein bars, jerky, and crackers. No one complained—it was all they had, after all—but snacks like these weren’t gonna cut it in the future, especially not with enhanced people on the team.

“I’ll head out tomorrow,” Barton said, nodding towards the jungle, “And see if I can’t find anything to shoot and bring back.”

“What would you even find in there?” Wanda asked. She sat with a blanket wrapped around herself.

“Boars, probably. Wild rabbits...maybe a feral chicken or two if we’re lucky. Could even get a few eggs from ‘em.”

Sam nodded. “And there’s sure to be plenty of fish in the water, even in the dome with us. I’ll start at dawn.”

“Since when did you learn how to fish, Wilson?” Tony asked.

“Uh, since forever. My family owns a fishing business.”

Tony made a face. “You never told me that before.”

“You never asked.”

“Okay,” Clint said. “Fish, meat...not to mention there’s tons of fruit up in those trees. We’ll be alright.”

Peter took a break from looking up at the stars. “Think we’ll see any lions?”

“Lions don’t actually live in jungles, Peter,” Banner said.

“Well, yeah, but...it’s not a regular island, and phone guy could’ve put anything in here with us...right?”

“I...you’re right, I guess so.”

Barnes threw a small twig into the fire. “Well, there goes my sleep for tonight.”

“Phone guy?” Wilson repeated.

“Yeah. It’s what I’ve been calling him in my head. Maestro’s kinda dumb.” Peter’s eyes then darted around, as if he were expecting Maestro to retaliate at any moment. “Sorry man, but that’s what I think.”

Cap steered them back to the topic at hand. “Our main concern is water. Our canteens won’t last us for very long.”

“I preserved some ice from the battle,” Wanda said. “It will buy us some time.”

“Yeah, but not that much,” Sam said.

“I’ll go look, first light,” said Romanoff.

“I’ll come with,” said Barnes.

Tony yawned big. “Good, can we figure out the rest tomorrow? I’m wiped.”

“Someone’s gonna have to keep watch,” said Rogers. “I’ll stay up.”

“No you won’t,” said Natasha, Barnes and Sam at the same time.

“Guys—”

“Steve,” said Natasha, “You almost froze to death fighting Wyatt. If you don’t get some rest right now, I’ll knock you out myself. I’ll stay up.”

“We’ll both go in shifts,” Clint said, driving one of his arrows in and out of the sand. “Five hours each, then we’ll switch.”

“Sounds good to me.” Romanoff casually whipped her head towards Steve, daring him to say otherwise.

Rogers didn’t look happy, but he knew that he was outnumbered. “Fine. But I’ll get the next night.”

“Great, excellent, splendid,” Tony said as they began to disperse to their respective blankets.

Peter stood up, and coughed loud enough for everyone to hear. Once he had everyone’s attention, he moved his arms in effort to shake the nerves out. “Um...so…” He glanced at Tony. “You guys have probably figured out that my identity is pretty important to me. I mean, Mr. Stark wouldn’t have withheld it from you if I hadn’t asked him...Thanks, Mr. Stark, by the way, for keeping it secret.”

Tony raised his canteen.

“Anyway,” He rocked on his heels a bit and entangled his fingers. “I know I have no right to ask you to not to tell anyone else about this...especially when some of you have families.” He looked Clint’s way. “But Spider-Man’s bound to have enemies...and if anyone else knew…if the people I care about get hurt because of me…”

“Kid,” said Clint. “Don’t sweat it.”

"Yeah man,” said Wilson. “Your secret’s safe with us.”

Peter looked at all the rest of the Avengers, and they looked back at him with either affirmed nods or soft hums.

A small smile tugged at Tony’s mouth. If there was one thing he could concede to appreciate about the Avengers, the one thing he could usually count on, was the use of discretion. They were like Vegas, in a way. When it came to personal matters, the Avengers don’t kiss and tell. Or punch and tell. Whichever one.

The kid didn’t know that yet, but he would soon enough. Having to ask them at all wasn’t necessary.

“Oh,” Peter said, and he relaxed. “Uh, great! Thanks.” He lingered there a moment longer, and they were still looking back at him. He lifted a hand. “Well, goodnight, everybody.”

Tony moved close to Peter with his back turned to the others. “You don’t need to say goodnight, they know.”

“Oh.”

With a sheepish smile, Peter made a final wave before going to his place in the sand.

“Need someone to tuck you in?” Wilson called after him.

As they all hunkered down with Clint off on a nearby rock keeping watch, Tony sat cross legged and motioned his finger at his protege. “C’mere, one more thing.”

Peter crawled over on his elbows. “Yeah?”

“About Barnes...outside of battle, I want you to stay away from him.”

“Why?”

Tony sighed with all the exasperation he was physically capable of. He was really getting tired of the kid asking why. “Because. Just do it, alright?”

“Okay,” said Peter, even though they both knew that Tony would be hearing about it later. The billionaire decided to switch gears.

“You good, you warm enough?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Tony eyed Peter’s temples. Now that the kid’s color was back, he could barely see the marks anymore. But he would always remember exactly where they were.

“You’d tell me too, right?”

“Hmm?”

“If you got hurt, or injured, or...anything. You’d tell me, right? I mean, we’re in this together.”

Tony felt himself nod. “Right you are. Now c’mon, let’s get some shuteye.”

They settled themselves underneath their blankets. Peter reached back and fluffed his makeshift pillow made out of three folded sweaters. “This would be so awesome if it wasn’t so scary.”

“Try annoyingly inconvenient,” Tony replied, closing his eyes. “But I get your point.”

It must have been an hour later when he heard Peter whisper over to him. “Mr. Stark...Mr. Stark.”

“What?”

“Are you awake?”

“What is it,” sighed Tony, eyes still closed.

“I can’t sleep. There’s no way I can sleep.”

“Sure you can. Count...I don’t know, count sheep or something.”

“I did. It doesn’t work. I can hear everything.”

It took a moment to realize what Peter was talking about. His senses were dialed to eleven—there was no telling what sounds he was hearing, way out in the jungle.

“Okay, well drown it out somehow,” Tony suggested, still half asleep. “Try 99 bottles. Always worked for me when I was a tyke.”

“Okay.” There was a long silence, and Peter’s hushed whisper began: “99 bottles of beer on the wall..”

“No. I mean—what I meant was, do it in your head, quietly.”

“Oh—sorry. I’ll do that.” Then, “’Night, Mr. Stark.”

“Goodnight.”

Eventually, each member of the team managed to find sleep, with the exception of Clint, who kept vigil. One by one, they dropped off, heeding no nightly jungle noise.

None could have fathomed the sheer chaos that was erupting back home.