"To fly is everything"
- Otto Lilienthal
"You know," a familiar voice speaks up from behind Tony, "you don't have to do this anymore."
"Hate to break it to you, Cap," Tony says, turning lifting up his cup of coffee in salute, "but I'm still human so caffeine is one of our four major food groups."
Steve tilts his head in a way that says he's processing what Tony's saying and not getting how it is English. Finally, he caves and shakes his head.
"I'm talking about the mission," Steve says, going to get his own cup from the break room cabinet. He grabs one of the last ones, making sure that there are some clean spares in the rack next to the sink.
"Was there a better candidate for the mission?" Tony asks, swishing the coffee around in his mug and not looking at Cap's face.
"You know there is no better person for the mission, Tony," Steve states.
"It's my charming good looks, isn't it? Coulson can't live without them around, can he? It's okay, you can tell me," Tony says, grinning at the fact that Captain America rolls his eyes.
"Does it cause the wrong type of friction in the bedroom, Cap? We could talk about a threesome, but I'm not sure you and Agent could afford my rates." It really is still too easy to make Steve blush.
"If you are quite finished embarrassing my husband, Stark, there are some more details I want to go over before you head out," Coulson says, wings shifting slightly at his back, the muted light brown looking darker in the fluorescent light.
"Your office? Or should we move this somewhere more private?" Tony wiggles his eyebrows at Coulson, secretly crowing with Agent Agent rolled his eyes. It was a two for one day.
"Ten minutes, Stark," Coulson says, walking away, shooting his husband a quick look before he left.
Tony finished his last swallow of coffee and set the mug in the sink. Nodding to Steve, he started after Coulson.
"I meant what I said, Tony," Steve speaks up before the other man has a chance to get to the door. "You don't have to do this anymore. We know how difficult it is to go back into those circles, what it's like to go into those dens and sees Aves like that." Tony stiffens, his steps faltering as his mind flashes to the last Aves smuggling operation they had broken up. It had sent him reaching for the bottle within minutes of getting out.
"To be honest, Cap, you really don't have a clue," Tony says, glancing back at the other man. He doesn't wait for Steve to correct him, because yeah, he probably does, Tony marches out of the break room. The subject, at least, dropped for now.
Three years prior, Tony had been like any other human, he knew that even though Aves got the same rights as regular humans there was still a lot of prejudice against them. It just wasn't his concern. His company built weapons, in the end it had very little to do with Aves as a whole. That was until he had been kidnapped by radical group of terrorists that had thought Aves were sent to serve humans and wanted Tony to modify his latest weapon design to track and capture Aves.
They may have eventually gotten it from him, except that the surgeon who had saved his life, Yinsen, had an Aves wife and told Tony all about the secret war that had been going on against the Aves. He told them how he had saved his wife from slavers and men who ran an Aves-prostitution ring. Yinsen had told Tony all about the hard work that Aves had done back before the Aves Equality Act had been passed in the United States and in other forward-thinking nations. Aves had suffered trying to fit in with humans. Some had tried to cut off their wings to join humans, but the wings grew back over time. It was painful and caused all sorts of infections to keep them shaved down.
Their pain finally sank in and Tony found himself ready to fight for the Aves across the globe, and more importantly ready to fight to get free and return Yinsen to his family. Unfortunately, it seemed that Tony would have to settle for only one out of two. Before Tony had gotten free, Yinsen died, telling him of how the terrorists had killed his wife and kids…all because they were Aves.
Tony hadn't forgotten anything he had learned in those caves. He had been sidetracked when he returned home, once he found that his own Uncle had been using Stark Industries weapons to fund the war against Aves and had been trying to kill off Tony. Becoming Iron Man had changed a large part of his life.
However, three years later, and a few other off problems, like finally joining up with Fury's insane 'Avengers' plan and fighting off an alien invasion, Tony had found himself being offered a card at a party for a free look at Aves stock if he wanted a playmate for one of his mansions…well it was safe to say he had re-found his purpose hunting down Aves slavery rings.
Except it hadn't brought the sense of relief that Tony had hoped. SHIELD had been taking down the slavery rings for years and had only ever gotten middle men. They struggled with getting to the higher ups of the organization who operated out of the few countries where owning Aves as slaves was still legal. Once Tony had gotten into though, the offers came pouring in. Aves brokers, what the men called themselves, all wanted to be the man that sold Tony Stark his Aves.
The missions were easy enough, Tony would go in and 'examine' the stock and make a purchase. Then using the information he got, SHIELD would come in and sweep up the bad guys. They were making a difference, but every time Tony had to purchase an Aves. Had to pick one person to be collared for him and every time it sickened him and tore at his soul. He knew, logically that there was no other way to get out with his reputation in tact but still, the fear that would fill their eyes when he chose them and they would look at him, and it never failed to haunt him. It never failed to wash him with guilt at night because yeah he saved a few here or there, but how many more were out there looking up at someone else as they were collared and sold, knowing that the person looking down at them would be taking them to be nothing more than a house pet if they were lucky and…the other options were definitely not as good.
Tony knocked once on Agent Coulson's door and pushed the fear and guilt to the back of his mind. He steeled himself, ready to offer another part of himself to the hope that one day there would be none in those cages and he'd be free of it all too.
"Enter!" comes the command from inside. Tony opens the door, and makes his way inside Coulson's office.
"You wanted to see me some more Agent?" he says, plopping down in one of the guests chairs.
"Yes, there was a detail that was left out of the official briefing that I want to share with you before you go," Coulson says, he's straightening up around his desk, shuffling papers around. For a moment, Tony thinks he looks worried.
"What's wrong?"
"Sanchez only a glimpse at the stock when he did his fly by. He said there was a large group shackled to the ground, which is on par with what we had thought for this operation, but as he was circling again, he said he saw a cage inside a separate room." Coulson's wings shift and flex on his back, a twitch for most people but Tony knew Coulson didn't have twitches.
"A cage would only be for transport, right? Were they getting ready to move the Aves?" Tony asked. It might shortened their timeline and push him to get an introduction.
"No, Sanchez thinks…" Coulson let out a breath and shook his head. "You have heard of the range of colors for Aves' wings, correct, Stark?"
"Yeah, black, brown, yellow and red. Though yellow is usually pretty rare, right?" Tony asks, though he knows all this. He's seen yellow winged Aves sell for a few million, even their feathers had a black market standing. If there was one on the premises they would be a priority for Tony to go for. It was the most believable for him to buy since he could afford the specialty. Sometimes, he really hated his money.
"Yes, very rare. The lighter the color the rarer it is. It has something to with pigmentation during early childhood development. Like human kids are often born with blonde hair only to have it darken over time, an Aves child has light colors during their childhood but their feathers become heavily pigmented when they get older," he sounds like Banner or Foster for a moment, and Tony wants to scowl at the lesson.
"The thing is, Sanchez thinks he saw something that has only been rumored before, and I don't know how it will affect your mission, but if it is a possibility…" Coulson paused and his wings shivered. Tony sat up straighter in his chair.
"Coulson?" he asks.
"Sanchez thought he saw a white winged Aves."
There were things Clint Barton did not remember. He didn't remember the passing of the Aves Equality Act, which happened when he was still an infant. He couldn't recall the way his mother had cried and screamed in joy hearing that it had been passed. He didn't know how she had danced around with him in her arms happy that there was finally no reason for her to keep her wings shaved down anymore. She had felt free in that moment and had dipped her son in her arms and smiled.
"It's a brave new world my love," she said, as Clint had giggled and cooed at her. "You just wait, my little angel, you'll see how beautiful this world will be for you."
Clint didn't know this moment ever happened, it was lost to his young mind as she was then lost to him only five years later.
Thankfully, she would never have to see how badly she had lied to him.
"Wake up!" a voice shouts, it's the only warning Clint has before he finds himself doused in a wave of cold water. It freezes his skin and startles him out of his slumber.
His wings flexed out, reflexively, hitting the bars of the cage and Clint cries out, pulling them back in as he wiped the water from his face. He looks up at the grinning man who was peering in, bucket still in hand.
"That right little birdy, it's breakfast time," he said, smiling wide to show off his yellowing teeth. He's built for combat, Clint's noted, even if his dark beady eyes and graying hair make him appear as less of a threat.
Clint tries to not shiver as the water soaks into his pants, wishing he had a shirt to wipe it off his chest and abdomen. The gaze of this captor makes his skin crawl as it is, and Clint jerks the ankle shackle across the floor.
"Rollins! Feed that Aves and get on with it," another voice cuts in. It's a man in a suit, Clint's only been calling him 'the Bossy One' in his head because he's the only one who never seems to take orders.
Rollins, who snarls at the other man, does eventually shove the tray into the slot. He waits until Clint gets close before spitting on the plate.
It takes all of Clint's willpower to not slam into the bars and try to rip the guy's eyes out. He takes the tray and Rollins walks off out the main door and shuts it behind him. The room that holds his cage is huge, Clint has noticed. It mocks him with high rafters and coliseum type pillars that he could weave through if he wasn't caged. He thinks that they had placed him in some abandoned church.
Looking down at the pitiful helping of eggs and slice of toast, now covered in Rollins saliva which makes it even more unappetizing. Clint helps himself to the cup of orange juice, and dumps the rest on the ground outside of the cage. He sets the tray on his soaked blanket and pillow, before sipping the orange juice. It isn't fresh, and might be lukewarm at best but it tastes sweet as he tries to savor it.
Sitting down on the bottom of his cage, careful of his ankle shackle that doesn't quite reach from one side to the other, Clint props himself up to watch the pigeons fly down to peck at his eggs and toast. He tries to comfort himself by running a hand through some of his unruly feathers, but it mostly is a lie since he doubts that he'll ever be given a chance to fly again without being collared.
After three years being transferred from cage to cage, even being collared and sold seemed like a pipe dream. Clint knew that he was more valuable in the cage as an flashy attraction or a bargain chip to get more stock during a deal with other brokers. Selling him would be a one time pay off, he would always be worth more to have customers fawn over his rarity than to be collared and locked away.
Everything about it made Clint ache to have his bow and a fresh look at the Bossy One or Rollins. Three years and he wasn't sure if his skills would still be there or if they had withered away with his hope. He plucked a loose, damaged feather free and brought it up for his inspection. Bent out of shape it was useless to him now, but Clint twirled it around for a moment.
Finally, he shoved it out the gapes between the bars and watched as a curious little brown bird quickly snatching it up. The little bird hopped away from the pigeons who were still tearing at the piece of toast, and pecked at the feather a few times. Clint smiled a little when it finally took to flight with it. The bird carried out a high window, through the opening in the broken pane.
He rubs a hand over his face, cursing himself for being stupid jealous of a little tiny bird. The ache inside him to fly throbbed at the reminder of how long it had been since he'd been allowed out of his cage. A small part of him still hoped for rescue, but it had been so long surely she had forgotten him by now…Clint cursed the sky and hoped beyond hope that his own little red bird was still out there.
