For the first time since he had conceived of this idea and found the people to make it reality, Fury considered the (minuscule!) possibility that the Avengers Initiative might not have been an unconditionally good decision.
"Wassup, dude?" Barton opened, leaning back and setting his feet on Fury's newly cleaned desk.
"Agent Barton." This statement had no effect on the positioning of the boots. Fury gave up for the moment, though mentally noting an extra month on Barton's already decades-long assignment to night duty.
"There's been an idea in the works for a while, called the Avengers Initiative. Our goal is to bring together a team of remarkable individuals, to work together to fight the battles with entities that would otherwise obliterate this planet."
Barton looked at him for a second, then removed his feet from the desk. Fury mentally awarded himself a point.
"Dude. Are you kidding me? See here? Bow and arrows. Medieval weaponry. And you're asking me to go up against alien invaders in purple spandex?"
Fury raised the eyebrow.
"You seemed to do quite well against the robot army. At least aliens bleed."
Something else registered.
"Spandex? Purple? This is not a circus, Barton!"
Barton opened his mouth, then shut it, looking sick.
"You mean- that wasn't just CGI?"
"Did you see any screens? Any computers?" Fury growled.
"You mean- none of it- oh god. Jesus. I-I thought..." Barton trailed off, staring at his hands. "I thought I was a stunt double. I put up with the long hours. I put up with hidden cameras. I put up with the goddamn constant method acting. Without out of character whining. And that was... all the truth. I trusted you! I thought it was all a lie!"
Fury lost his chance to respond, distracted by nascent plans to record this breakdown and use it as blackmail material.
"All those years- real people- I've killed so many real people... not just stunt doubles..."
He stood up.
"I-I'm sorry. I don't think I can continue this relationship, it's not you, it's me- oh god what am I saying, it was you, it was all you!" Barton whispered, eyes glistening.
He sauntered out at high speed.
Fury stared after him.
That had decidedly not gone according to plan.
Fury glared.
"You are telling me," he began slowly, "that you are physically incapable of being a super hero."
"I'm allergic to the color green," Banner said apologetically. "Makes my face swell, and my coloring is just hideous, and I get an awful headache. And, well. You can see why I think that I really wouldn't be suited for a taxing lifestyle where I might occasionally have to come in contact with salad. Or grass."
Fury, for lack of a better idea, continued glaring. "You turn green. And quadruple your mass. And then punch out space whales the size of skyscrapers. In one particular incident, in order to cheer up a little girl upset that she received a C on her art project."
Banner smiled serenely.
"My therapist says that a negative body-image is very detrimental to the healing process. I have to learn self-compassion, accept myself and my place in the universe. Also, you can't prove that was me."
"On camera. Footage of which is on YouTube."
"The wonders of CGI."
"In front of about ten thousand witnesses."
"A conspiracy, to... invalidate my research. Yeah. The one on... theobromine."
Fury forcibly reminded himself that bullets would be ineffectual here.
"You are blaming the Hulk on your fourth-grade chocolate 'science' project."
"Essentially, yes. But I'd like to say how much it disturbs me and raises my anxiety levels that you have that kind of information memorized."
Fury decided that he needed a better form of self expression than merely glaring. His eye was starting to twitch from maintaining the expression.
"Doesn't using the Hulk as a threat recognize that you are, in fact, directive of the Hulk?"
Banner widened his eyes.
"I never said anything about the Hulk. I'm just allergic. To anxiety. Which looks distinctly green. You'd be horribly embarrassed if I burst into hives in your office."
Banner coughed and appeared to recall something.
"Also, I really wish that you wouldn't make such derogatory comments about my health, physical or mental. I'm very sensitive about my anger management issues. And my therapist says that blame is counterproductive."
Fury sighed and again resisted the urge to convince the man with the aid of firearms.
"Get out. Send in Stark."
"I am completely mystified as to why everybody believes that I am Iron Man. I mean, I've always denied it."
Fury dearly wished that he didn't have to resist the urge to put a few bullets through the man's impeccably styled hair. Unfortunately, Stark had Lawyers.
"Yes, I remember that particular press release."
Fury pulled up a video clip.
"The truth is..." The video Stark said tinnily. "Despite the fact that I have repeatedly said that I wouldn't trust anyone else with my advanced tech or weapons, that I am clearly the only person in control of the suit, that I have no highly trusted friends in a position to utilize the suit, and that you are never going to see me and an occupied suit in the same picture... As I have clearly proven, via process of elimination, Iron man is my bodyguard."
Video Stark paused.
"Pinky promise."
After a few shocked silent seconds, the crowd of reporters surged forward to ask a multitude of 'hypothetical' questions.
Fury paused the video. Stark stared at him. Eventually, he sniffed theatrically.
"I have no idea why you showed me that video. I did exactly as Agent asked. I told the world that I wasn't Iron Man. Which is completely true."
Fury kept looking at him, taking care not to let his expression slide out of Disappointment #3: slight sympathy and condescension. Stark cracked quickly, as per usual.
"Anyway, I don't have the constitution for superheroing. Just don't have the moral fibre. Comes with being rich- ask the one-sies."
Fury maintained the Look.
"The one percenters." Stark pretended to explain.
Inwardly, Fury wanted to weep from the sheer shame of having let Stark manipulate the conversation so that he'd be forced to either compliment Stark or concede his point. However, he steeled himself. Sometimes, for the greater good, horrific tasks must not only be contemplated, but carried out to their uncertain resolution.
"No moral capacity? What about stopping weapons production?"
"I make the best weapons. Now that it's proven that people will shoot at me, I want everyone to be shooting with sub-par weapons." Stark explained, speaking slowly as if to a small child.
"What about that mess in Sokovia?"
"If I didn't make a fuss about donating to the reconstruction effort, what with my bright and shiny pro-peace stance- you know, the one that means more people are alive to buy my product- it would have lowered the stock values."
"No one would have known or cared if you, personally, hadn't made sure that the press would't talk about anything else for six months! And then you donated more resources than Sokovia's own government!"
"I needed the anti-publicity, get them away from the whole Iron Man debacle-"
"Out of your own personal fund!"
"You think I could have used corporate funds? Pepper would have personally rendered me limb from limb. She would have cackled as she threw the bloody hunks of my corpse into the Hudson."
Fury took a deep breath (dammit, expression of weakness!) but was interrupted before he could continue with his next line.
"And don't think I haven't noticed you stalking those cute little monsters I found in Sokovia. Your determination to get in contact with them is seriously creepy. If you don't stop, I'm going to have to report you as a suspected child trafficker. A government man like you, no one would be surprised."
Fortunately for the sake of Stark's continued coiffure, a blaring phone interrupted Fury's impending explosion. Stark jumped up, calling out over his shoulder:
"Sorry, must run, Widows and Orphans charity gala to donate obscene amounts of money at, have to convince a few heads of state to buy Hammer-Tech, sir-ley you understand."
Laughing at his own terrible pun, Stark almost literally skipped out the door.
Fury, with great effort, resisted the urge to bang his head on the desk.
The Black Widow walked, blank-faced and covered in weaponry, into Fury's office and immediately burst into tears.
The sight made Fury want to cry himself. He had truly, honestly believed he could rely on the Black Widow to be, if not sensible, at least professional.
"I d-don't know why e-e-everyone blames me!" She wailed, fiddling with her hand-gun. "I j-just have really bad l-luck with boyfriends! IT'S NOT MY FAUUUULT!"
Fury, who had once seen this woman kill three trained soldiers with a single toothpick, unfortunately let his military reflexes take over.
"Get ahold of yourself, soldier! To attention!"
Romanoff, faster than the eye could follow, stabbed a blade next to Fury's hand.
"I'm not a s-s-soldier! I'm a civil-civilian! It's all a mista-ake! Stop bullying me!"
And with that, she ran from the room. Seconds later, raucous laughter echoed in the hall.
This time, Fury did not resist the urge to bang his head on the desk.
Thor strode in on Romanoff's heels.
"Well met, Director! I have been informed that you wish to make me protector and sovereign of this realm!"
He interrupted Fury's desperate correction to the sovereign comment, by clapping him on the shoulder.
"Unfortunately, I may not accept your generous offer, for I am already spoken for as the next King of Asgard. Though, I should be grateful to receive the tribute of this primitive yet rich realm!"
Thor laughed.
"As you can see, there is no manner in which I can steward this realm- should I want to!"
Thor strode out.
Fury was coming to the conclusion that superhuman individuals were distressingly prone to narcissism and self-delusion.
Rogers entered the room with an apologetic, bashful little smile that might have- had- fooled Fury when he first resuscitated, but Fury now knew not to trust as far as he, Fury, could throw Rogers.
"So, captain. Ready to return to the honored tradition of government sponsored heroics?"
Don't swear, Fury reminded himself. You'll never get an answer if you swear.
"Well, sir."
Fury firmly ignored the sinking feeling at the distinct lack of agreement.
"Honestly, there's something I should have told you a while before now, but there was never really a good time, and, well, I rather thought you already knew."
Rogers learned forward and looked Fury straight in the eye.
"Sir. Superheroes are fictional and only exist in comics."
Rogers really was a terrible liar, Fury noted through the crashing waves of despair and betrayal.
"I was an actor, sir. I played the part of 'Captain America' in order to inspire volunteers."
Fury considered this for a moment, then decided that there was nothing he could say or do at this point, with every one of his assets having refused.
"Rogers. If you could explain to me why everyone is so hesitant to declare themselves superhero. Hypothetically, of course."
"Hypothetically, sir? If I had to venture a guess, I'd say that the whole 'representative of the government and subject to its directives' would have gotten a lot of people's goat, especially after that fiasco with Falcon not being allowed to render aid to Wakanda. Really, that whole Registration act from the 90's was poorly thought out, since it forces any would-be heroes to wade through a mountain of red tape and paperwork in order to have authorization to help people. Hypothetically, it would be much easier to take no steps to hide your superhuman status but officially deny the connection."
They sat quietly for a second, Fury fuming, Rogers innocent.
Then, a clearly custom Stark communicator rang shrilly.
"Sorry, must fly," Rogers said, leaping out of his chair and running out of the room.
"AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE!" rang out from the corridor.
There was some whispering. A few seconds later, Fury heard a corrected version.
"COMPLETELY UNASSOCIATED PERSONS OF GREAT ABILITY, PLEASE COINCIDENTALLY ARRIVE AT THTE CRIME SCENE AT THE SAME TIME AS A GROUP!"
Omake: Why they actually didn't want to participate
Hawkeye: Dude, I have a family. Do you need me to spell it out for you?
Hulk: HULK MORE ANGRY AT SHIELD THAN HYDRA.
Iron Man: Too rich, don't care. Go figure out your proletariat problems yourself.
Black Widow: Would accepting mean I'm not allowed to get free ice cream anymore?
Thor: Are you completely ignorant of intergalactic diplomacy? Conflict of interest, ignoramus- I'm representative of Asgard.
Rogers: Sorry, still having problems, with 40's social mores, can't even get the little brats off my lawn.