Avengers: Recruits

Setting: shortly after the events of Captain America: Civil War.


Gen. Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross strode quickly from his transport, eager to get this over with.

He wondered again who had decided to base the operation here, the same place Rogers had been trained and more recently destroyed during the Pierce Incident. Camp Lehigh had been moderately rebuilt, with the command center the priority. On one hand, it made sense, the decommissioned base's destruction was a perfect cover for training grounds of the next team of (ugh, he hated the term!) "superheroes" to defend America, and possibly the world.

His aide met up with another man, who led them to the training grounds. As he watched silently for a minute, the various (already costumed? Who ordered that nonsense?) trainees were trying to prove themselves in mock battle. He didn't even glance to the side as the project's acting commander strode up to him.

"Colonel Talbot," he harrumphed.

"General, now, sir," Glenn Talbot corrected. "Nice to see you again, sir."

"Who let you be a general?"

"Someone had to fill your shoes when you became Secretary of State, General," Talbot informed his superior.

"Don't make a habit of it," Ross replied, trying to hide his bemusement at his former aide. "What do we have here? Are these the replacement Avengers?"

"By and large, sir. The ones who haven't washed out for various reasons, at this point."

"Various reasons?" he echoed.

Talbot nodded. "Between psych evals, the various physical training, and background checks, this motley crew is what is left," he explained. "There are some I doubt will make it to the team we eventually go public with. A few will become standbys in case the ones we do choose are injured, as with Col. Rhodes, or prove they can't follow orders, as with Rogers."

"The washouts wind up with Coulson's crew in SHIELD?"

Talbot shook his head, handing his superior a tablet. "Not at all, sir. We're looking at at least two teams, the public replacements and a more covert team for the missions we don't tell the general public, as always."

Ross scanned the files pre-loaded for him to view. Profiles on all present, he realized. A few names looked familiar. "This is the final list? Why is Castle still on here?"

"Castle? Glenn gulped, glancing to his aide and pulling up the file on his own tablet. "Sorry sir, Frank Castle had made our shortlist for recruitment to this, but obviously, should have been removed after his recent actions in New York," he apologized tossing his aide a death stare upon realizing he mixed up the tablets. Glenn should have gotten the one Ross was looking at, and the one in his hands was a slightly more censored version prepared for Ross. He held out his hand to take Ross' tablet back.

Ross ignored him. "Any other updates I should be aware of?" he inquired, hating the fact that there was little paperwork to deal with these days. Give him a nice thick dossier over any electronic device any day. It was really satisfying to drop that phone book thick Sokovia Accord on the table in front of Rogers' crew. Former crew, he corrected himself.

Before Talbot could respond, a squad of armored suits flew by in tight formation. Suddenly, the handheld tablets looked good, compared to what could have been a snowstorm of papers had the files still been "hardcopy" as they were referred to these days. He glanced after the flyers.

"That was not Stark or Rhodes, was it?"

"No sir," Glenn replied, shooting another furious look at his aide. "That is Rhodes' former Iron Patriot armor in the lead, but the rest are all ours, based on the armors sighted during the Extremis Incident."

"Based on?"

"We've copied the Iron Patriot armor and redesigned several new suits to match Stark's own armors," he explained.

"Please tell me Hammer didn't help."

"well, ah, that is, once he got a proper look at Stark's designs, he was able to, ah, correct his flaws, I believe he said?"

"And the result is?"

"What just flew by, working title, is the Iron Legion. Possibly Iron Guard? We should have most of these names decided shortly. Each armor is based off a military branch," he explained, pulling up their profiles on his tablet. "Iron Patriot is the squad leader, of course, as the public is already familiar with Rhodes' former patriotic armor. He won't be piloting it, obviously. Then we have Golden Knight, a former army paratrooper in the black and gold. O'Brien's Guardsman representing the National Guard in the green. I understand Skydive is the blue Air Force pilot? (That one may change.) Rescue is the, ah, orange bedecked Coast Guard armor, working with the Naval Rampage? (another work in progress name, sir.) Last but not least is the Marine's representative, which we are leaning towards either Hornet or Tankbuster, depending on the final pilot."

"Are we really giving each one it's own codename?"

"More along callsigns for combat, but as I explained, each armor will have a focused MO for battle, much like Stark's evolving designs," he explained. "I seem to recall yours was Thunderbolt, sir?"

Ross wasn't amused.

"Speaking of, that's near the top of the shortlist, in case we run into some legal trouble with Stark over usage of the Avengers name, Thunderbolts." He flipped the screen to show a lightning bolt inside a circle for the team patch design. "How did that poem go again? Justice, like lightning-?"

"Enough, Talbot." Ross waved the other man's tablet away, then pointed to the crew on the ground. They had distracted Stark with a meet and greet in Canada as a distraction. He didn't need to see the whole squad made up of poor copies of the arrogant bastard. "What about these recruits? Looks like one is wearing flight armor, too?"

Talbot glanced from the squad field to his tablet, made a few swiping motions, then spoke up. "Ah, not quite. That would be Mach-3. Well, the current armor version at least, according to the wearer, Abe Jenkins. He and, ah, Evers-no, Ebersol aka Techno-? were the ones making the most modification builds to the armors we just discussed. Our team mechanics, as it were. Jenkins was also in the same program as Sam Wilson, the Falcon, and made many modifications to the flight harness that even Wilson doesn't have, or whatever upgrades Stark had given him before he went rogue."

"So he earns his spot by being support crew?"

"More of a literal flight crew, as it were, plus he handles his flight pack even better than Wilson."

"You said Mach-3? What happens when he does more upgrades to his rig?" Ross inquired. "I seem to recall some cartoon Betty watched as a child with a stunt car racer and a chimp?"

"We're really not going to worry about some kids cartoon naming rights are we?" Talbot scoffed. "I mean, did you see the live action movie they made a mess of a few years back?" he chuckled. "Actually, speaking of that car, we also have a recruit working the kinks out of telescoping-limb armor. He claims it will help in situations like high-rise fire rescues and such. It's not going well. He was one of our first cuts to the team."

Ross' only reply was to ask "Who's next? That girl they're working with?"

"Ah, that would be Melissa Gold, who is using the callsign Songbird?"

Ross gave him a confused look. The name rang a bell, something Betty had mentioned, he seemed to recall? "Please tell me this isn't some Pop Idol singer nonsense?"

"Well, yes and no. Gold was a competitor a few years back, but throat polyps ended her singing career," he explained. "She was a bit of a diva and demanded to be able to sing again, and-"

Songbird suddenly erupted pink energy wings around herself and took off into the sky, Mach-3 following close behind.

"Oh, please tell me she's not one of those Inhumans, is she?"

Talbot shook his head. "No sir, we DNA tested all possible recruits. A few anomalies, but none tested positive for the Inhuman genome."

"So what is that?" he motioned to her as she and Mach-3 began what appeared to be a game of aerial tag.

"That rig around her upper body is what Jenkins called a 'sonic carapace' that allows her to turn her voice into physical, ah, some sort of hardlight energy projection?" he read off his tablet. "The science behind it is a bit out of my league, but that's the gist of it in layman's terms."

"So she's yet another flyer?"

"Mostly, but she can create other shapes with her gear," he explained. "She's working on controlling her flight, today. I've seen her create battering rams, walls for defense, among other creations."

Another woman had joined the pair in their airborne tag, this one trailing a stream of fire.

"Dr. Karla Sofen, callsign Moon- no, this says she prefers Meteorite?" Talbot explained without prompting. "She's actually quite interesting. One of the few survivors of the Extremis Incident. We took what we learned from Stark helping Potts control hers and applied it to Sofen, partially as a means of controlling her own Extremis, and partially because she's a heavy hitter and doesn't need the bulky armor to go undercover."

"What's she a doctor of?"

"Psychiatry, among other fields. Total genius and just missed Rhodes Scholar, for 'personal reasons' she claims," Talbot informed him. "She's also working as the team's psychiatrist as they adapt to their new identities and dealing with any possible threats."

"You mean PTSD?" Ross had seen it on many a soldier, and in particular, Stark. It was likely the main reason behind the fracturing of the Avengers, Stark's and Rogers' differing stances on how to handle things, with Stark the scared boy lashing out from stress and anxiety.

"Yes sir," Talbot nodded. "As well as any more ELE-potential level threats like Ultron."

Ross grunted acknowledgement as his attention turned to the ground players. "What about those men? That drill inspector seems familiar?"

"Which one?" Talbot inquired. "We have recruited Zemo as field operations manager, although we have a plan to cover his identity as 'Citizen V'. That was the original back up plan to replace Rogers when he first disappeared at the end of the war. Outside of a few Senators and the SSR, that plan never materialized, mostly due to Agent Carter's protests. Zemo is on a work release program as part of his sentence. At least, that's the cover story if his cover is blown. Brilliant tactical mind that was able to pull off what he did shouldn't be rotting in a cell."

Ross nodded. Not their best option, but..."and the other?" He nodded toward a man in body armor and wearing one of those "skull" half masks covering his lower face Ross had seen become popular in the 'Stan and with the biker crowd and gangs on the homefront.

"Another one of our, ah, 'anomolies'," Glenn stammered. "Photo-reflexive responsive mimicry, meaning he can see an action one time and commit it to muscle memory. He makes Rogers and Bruce Lee look like amateurs, but he also makes a great combat trainer. A perfect Taskmaster, if you will."

"I sense a 'but' coming?"

"The ability also leaves him with long term memory dysmorphia, basically, walking amnesia. He can no longer even remember his own name or early life. He's down to less than a decade of memory, despite being in his thirties per doctor's guesses. He could be older and his extreme athletic ability retards his aging, we don't know yet."

"Do we know who he was?"

"Above my paygrade, sir. He's a living Unknown Soldier, but at least he's on our side."

Ross gave Talbot a glance that said it all: you better hope so.

"The rest of the squad? Tell me that's not Rogers' -what did he call it, 'stealth suit'?"

"Ah, yes, one of our USAgent finalists. Castle was on that shortlist," he noted. "I believe that man is John Walker? He'll be the field agent in charge, second only to Zemo." He glanced to his tablet again. "Note on here says that Walker has requested the suit have some appearance modifications before he goes public. More red, in particular. We've also co-opted the energy shield that Leopold Fitz created for Coulson for Waker to use."

"One of the finalists?"

"This team has been in the offing since Rogers was recovered. A fallback to the whole Avengers Initiative brouhaha. Walker and Rumlow were the top choices to replace Rogers, should anything happen to him after he was thawed."

"That worked out so well for Rumlow, didn't it? Hail Hydra," he mocked, noting that Walker's file said he had received the same "enhancements" as Jeffrey Mace, current public face of SHIELD. He recalled reading a memo on the boosters Mace was taking having been evolved from a pill dosage, but said pills had proven highly addictive. The New York "heroes" had tangled with one of the subjects from that experiment, Simpson. Walker currently seemed to be tolerating the treatment well, but...?

Neither noticed one of the aides behind them snapped to attention at the mention of Hydra, barely catching himself from shouting in reply. He faked a cough, just in case, which only garnered a perturbed look from Ross' aide.

"The man he's sparring with prefers to be called 'Bengal'," he noted, pointing out the man in the orange tiger-stripe and black costume. "Former MMA and kickboxer champion, among other disciplines. He's originally from Thailand; parents emigrated here when he was a child. We made sure he's legal, now, just in case."

"He looks like a knock-off of the Wakandan Panther?"

"Yes, well, we've taken his normal fighting gear and upgraded it with some scans we took of Prince- er, King T'Challa's own suit while we held him in Munich."

"He's going to know what we did."

"We still don't have any vibranium to enhance it with, so his highness can't argue on that point," Talbot nodded. "There is another street fighter-type we've located in New York, but he continues to elude our agents after they stumbled across him while following Luke Cage, that Spider-kid, and this Devil of Hell's Kitchen character. You'd think an all-white outfit should stand out, especially at night, but he's managed to be as elusive as the others popping up in that city. In fact, he could be anyone under that mask, even a woman."

"Oh great, a crossdressing wannabe hero. The liberals would love that," he snorted.

Talbot cleared his throat, unwilling to start that particular discussion. Again. "The archer was recruited from the Olympic team, calls himself Trickshot before we ever approached him." Ross sighed. "He's no Barton, but he's damned close. Hits the bullseye every time, too, and does it with multiple weapons, not just arrows."

"What about those four?" Ross motioned to another area with three men and a woman wearing slightly familiar gear in different colors: a couple in black and yellow, one in brown, one in black, white, and blue. "That's not Pym's tech is it?" he realized.

"While Lang was in custody, we made extensive scan searches into his suit, and with assists from Jenkins and even some insight from Hammer, we were able to copy the Ant-Man technology. They've field tested it already, so most of the bugs are worked out."

"Most?"

"Everything's worked fine, so far, but we've also been prepared in case of another Darren Cross. In fact, we were able to recover a few bits of his research to help crack Pym's tech. We even dubbed the shrinkers 'Yellowjackets', while the two growers are 'Goliath'." Ross gave him the side-eye again. "After we saw what Lang pulled off in Munich, we decided that the human body can't handle the stress of shrinking and growing like that on a regular basis, so designed these suits to only perform one way before the recall was initiated to bring them back to their normal default sizes."

"So two get big, and two get small?"

"Exactly, sir. We still weren't sure about all the gear, including the helmets, but Pym's designs contain breathing regulators as well as communicators. Cross copied those designs, so we decided it was better to keep them, as well. Josten tried it once without his helmet, and experienced a few problems, mostly disorientation, like when you stand up too fast. He agreed to keep using the helmet after that."

Almost on cue, one of the men and the woman in yellow gear both disappeared from view, but a nearby monitor continued to focus on the pair at their new height of only a few inches, as well as supply a live feed of their biometrics. The other pair didn't need monitor cameras, as they erupted to three times their previous heights, towering over the rest of the recruits on the field. The Iron flyers weren't warned as they made another pass of the field.

"How long can they maintain those sizes?" Ross inquired. "I would hate to see the two big ones being fed, or clean up their mess after," he insinuated the basic needs of a man three times normal size.

"Josten and Foster can maintain their Goliath personas for an hour, maximum, Josten keeps pushing for longer, however," he explained. "Foster has some biomedical training, and has cautioned him against this. He has also expressed caution when eating at the altered size unsure if the food would metabolize before resuming their default heights. This applies mostly to imbibing while in the growth stages for both pairs, not shrinkage, which we theorize the smaller amounts of food would have a negligible effect on their bodies."

"And the Yellowjackets?"

"Quite the opposite, for maintaining reduced size, but we are watching the long term effects on them, as Pym was unable to maintain his or his wife's miniaturized states for more than a few hours back in the 80s, and neglected to share if he even bothered to record any troubles Lang suffered. Although we do have him on record requesting orange slices upon returning to his base stature in Munich. We don't know if he was serious or not?"

"So this is what the defense of our nation has come to?" Ross mused. "At least we don't have another Hulk on here." He glanced to Talbot again. "Please tell me Blonsky is nowhere near this fiasco waiting to happen!"

"Of course not, sir. He's still in The Fridge," Talbot assured his superior. "We have taken blood samples from him, in hopes of isolating the super-soldier serum. We've got 'Mr Blue' working on that distillation, in the hopes we can eventually have a brawler type like the Hulk, but one that can still retain his original intellect and rational thought."

"Mr Blue? You mean Sterns, the guy that was helping Banner before he, and I quote, 'broke Brooklyn'?"

"The one and same," Talbot acknowledged. "Seems your attack that was meant to capture Banner resulted in injuring Sterns, who just happened to get an open head wound infected with a sample of Banner's gamma blood. He now makes Stephen Hawking look like a kindergartener. His intellect has gone off the scale. And his cranium now matches."

"But he's still working for us?"

"Of course, he is," Talbot boasted.

"Of course, he is," Ross echoed, Talbot completely missing the mockery. As educational as this was, he did wonder how Stark was holding up with his "meet and greet". Now that the other nations knew all about the Avengers, they had already begun their own forays into this world. SHIELD had already dealt with a handful of "loose cannon" operatives, while Stark still proved to be his own worst nightmare for himself and his team. Ross hoped that today's soiree with the new Canadian operatives wouldn't become yet another nightmare scenario on the world stage.


Somewhere north of Niagara Falls, Tony Stark's in-flight nap was broken by his on board AI, Friday, and in particular, his collision warning detectors.

"I'm up! I'm up! I'm up!" Tony shouted, trying to gain his bearings. Even after all this time, getting used to coming to with a full HUD display in his face took some getting used to. "What is it? Missile? 747 full of tourists from Tokyo? Godzilla? What?"

"It appears to have a near identical signature as one of your armors, Tony," Friday informed him. "Too small for a missile, but large enough for a human in flight, and I'm reading a metallic outer shell?"

"Canada has drones, don't they?"

"In human form?"

"Flattery is the sincerest form of imitation?" he mumbled. "And boy, does this guy look like he's imitated me enough that I can sue his hockey loving pants off!" he exclaimed with glee as Friday made visual contact with their interceptor.

As the two armored men drew close, Tony held his position and held a hand up. "Hi. I'm Iron Man. You may have heard of me? Who the hell are you and why do you have some cheap knockoff of my armor?"

Silence from the other man, who held himself at a short distance. Tony looked over the design. It did bear some resemblance to several parts of various armors he had designed, but not one in particular. The coloring had primarily red and white, with the arms and torso sides favoring red, along with the outer portion of his right leg, but the left leg remained white, the same as the central stripe. It almost looked as if it was an unfinished attempt at the Canadian flag? "(Friday, are you getting all his telemetry? My lawyers will need it to sue him.)" he asked before turning his external speaker back on just as the other man was pointing between Tony and his own ear. "Yo Stripes, are you listening to me?"

The other man was now slapping the side of his head when the lower half of his mask popped off. He made a grab at it, but it fluttered away below, caught on the winds. He looked between it and back up to Iron Man, caught in mid-sentence. "I said nevermind, Heather! Also, tell Bochs I just lost the lower half of my faceplate, so he'll need to make me a new one while he's working on my audio systems!"

"Still working the kinks out of that cheap knockoff, huh?" Tony asked, trying not to laugh.

"Mr. Stark," the other man greeted, holding out a hand to shake, despite the fact they were too far apart to make a handshake even feasible. "My name is Dr. James MacDonald Hudson, but in this armor, you can call me Guardian."

"Okay, Stripes, funtime is over, now what say you hand over the armor before we start a war over-"

"The biomechanics of this armor are pretty basic. Suing me over stealing your designs would be like Ford suing BMW over the fact both their main products have four wheels and an engine. In fact, the engine is the main difference. Many have tried to copy your arc reactor, but only a few have actually succeeded. The power source for this suit is one of my own design, and those plans were filed with the Ministry of Energy about two years before your debut."

"Say what?"

"I was a big fan of your and your father's work from an early age, and thought that your plans to miniaturize your arc reactor were still feasible long after you gave up," he explained. "Well, until you were kidnapped and held in a cave, where you came up with your armor prototype." He motioned towards Tony in a flourish. "By that time, I had long since filed my own version of your reactor. They sat on it until the Invasion of New York, when they suddenly became interested in having their own team of defenders. At that point, I was tasked with making my own suit of armor, and gathering other 'talents' like your Avengers."

"He is correct in that his energy signature is vastly different from your own, Tony," Friday agreed. "My scans also indicate that while there are common build structures, those builds would be basic in any form of exoskeletal structure."

"Thanks for the insight," Tony replied to both. "Still, that doesn't explain why I haven't heard of you, before? What do you call this team, and why hasn't SHIELD kept me informed that you even exist?"

"I can't tell you why you haven't been informed, but likely because you're a bit reckless with giving out information?" Hudson suggested. "I get why you did that during the Extremis Incident, but that didn't bode well for your, ah, abode. Did it?"

"Low blow, Stripes."

"I told you, please call me Guardian. Dr Hudson or even Mac, if you prefer?"

"Nah, I think I'll stick with Stripes," Tony decided, then threw a repulsor blast at Hudson to test his armor reflexes.

Hudson's lighting systems flickered, then he began to fall. He reflexively tried grasping at the thin air between the two men to stop his sudden plummet. Tony sighed, then gave chase.

"Have you even beta tested this rig before today?" he asked, grabbing Hudson's arm, slowing his descent.

"Only in mock combat," Mac acknowledged.

"Mock combat? With who?"

Hudson pointed above them. "Bochs, about time you showed up!"

Tony turned, expecting to see some sort of aerial transport, or at least a large crate. He was confused for a second as a dark roundish shape came into view, partially blocking the sun. "Friday? What do we got?"

"It appears to be another suit of armor, Tony?" she replied as a voice filled the air.

"CANNONBALL!" the new armor shouted, as it fell past the pair.

"Roger, we really need to work on your- Roger, you can hear me, right? You're about to crash and haven't initiated your boot jets, yet?" alarm was rising in his voice. "Roger? BOCHS?! Bochs, respond? BOCHS!?" he yelled as they watched helplessly realizing whoever was in this armor was not responding and moments away from becoming a crater on the Canadian landscape. "Heather, get the twins out here, ASAP! We may need medical attention if Roger doesn't- He's what? Well, have them bring Michael!"

"I don't know who this 'Box' is, but that armor is definitely based on my Hulkbuster designs!" Tony exclaimed as he gave pursuit, even as Hudson slipped away, his own systems coming back to life. He briefly wondered how he would slow this bulkier armor's descent, not that it would matter in a few seconds. "Friday, please tell me you're recording all this! I didn't even touch this guy!"

Tony didn't hear her response, as he boosted his speed to attempt a rescue, just as the larger armor's boot jets suddenly flared to life, too late as he slammed into the ground, creating a twenty foot crater. Tony did some quick math on how much impact that meant. It didn't look good.

Hudson landed and immediately began tearing at the armor torso. Tony had Friday start scanning for life, while muttering "pleasebealivepleasebealivepleasebealive!" as Hudson tossed aside the chest piece. Inside lay a blond man in a flight suit, barely conscious. Tony thought he looked vaguely familiar?

"Walter?! My gods, man, what were you thinking?"

Tony held his breath as he heard a sonic boom overhead, then a whistling drawing ever closer, just as Friday chirped up about more incoming missiles.

The man inside the armor looked up at Hudson, offering a weak smile. "I think I broke my legs, Mac," he chuckled, spitting up blood.

"Don't try to move, the twins will be here with Michael in a moment. He'll heal you up-"

Walter shook his head. "Help me out. I'll fix it myself," he insisted.

Hudson looked to Tony, who held up his arms. "I don't think we should move him? If you've got help coming-?" he began as a man in black leathers suddenly landed beside him.

"Sacre bleu, Walter!" he exclaimed. "Qu'avez-vous fait?"

"Jean-Paul! Where is Michael?"

"Ma soeur sera là avec lui dans un instant," he replied, glancing at Stark indignantly.

"Stark had nothing to do with it. The armor jets failed him," he informed his teammate.

"Help me out," Walter insisted, his breathing ragged.

"You are not moving until Michael gets here!" Hudson insisted again. Walter brushed him away and tried pulling himself free.

"Dude, did you break your ears? If help is on the way, just wait a minute until they get here," Stark warned him, unable to offer assistance. "Friday tells me you're lucky to be alive, but you won't be if you keep moving."

"Mac, please, pull me out! I can feel him trying to get out!"

Hudson cursed under his breath and began tearing open the armor uncovering the remnants of Walter's legs.

Jean-Paul took up a defensive stance toward his teammate. "Puis-je contrôler la bête en esta état, Hudson?"

Friday gave Tony a quick translation. "Control the Beast? What is he talking about, Stripes?"

"Vous avez votre Hulk. Nous avons notre Sasquatch."

"Sasquatch? What, like Bigfoot?" Tony repeated nervously, seeing Hudson also step back from his friend.

"Close, but only hairier," Mac replied. "Be ready for anything. Walter has some control issues in his Sasquatch form."

"Control issues?" Stark repeated. "That's a bit of an understatement as far as Banner is concerned. I don't want to see-"

His comment was cut short as Walter Langkowski began howling in pain, his body beginning to bulk up and hair began spouting everywhere. Tony was briefly reminded of several werewolf movies and the Thriller music video as the broken man's body healed itself even as it grew. Having seen Banner 'Hulking out' several times, he had never screamed in pain like this. Tony wasn't sure if it was from the injuries or if this was normal for Walter's transformation?

The trio watching Langkowski change was joined by another pair, a flying woman carrying whom Stark could only assume was the mystery "Michael"? He wore jeans, a button down flannel shirt, and a white labcoat, Stark noted.

"Waltair!" she cried out in horror in a similar accent to the other flyer, her suit matching his, mostly black with white gloves, boots, and collar. Obviously the 'twins' Hudson had mentioned, Stark surmised.

The man she brought had long black hair and tanned skin. Stark guessed he was Indian- no wait, what did they call them up here now, First Nations? He was the only one to approach the transforming man. "Langkowski, you fool! Had you but waited a few more moments-!" he yelled, reaching into a pouch on his hip, before being struck by an enormous and orange furred paw, sending him flying back. The male flyer, Jean-Paul, was suddenly in Michael's path, catching him. He muttered something in French that Friday didn't bother to translate for Tony.

"Wait, that's Walter Langkowski?" Stark finally put the pieces together. "Banner mentioned him in passing, trying to copy his work to cure him? Is that how this happened?"

"We're a bit busy at the moment" Hudson yelled, dodging a tree his bestial teammate was now using as a club.

Tony reacted as only he could, he blasted the tree-laden arm, only realizing his mistake when the ten foot creature suddenly charged him in response. Stark took to the air, only too slow and suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a bashing similar to what Banner had given Loki in New York. The Asgardian hadn't fared so well, and he silently hoped he wouldn't wind up in worse condition than Loki or Langkowski.

Stark found himself thrown loose, crashing into a tree from his momentum, and glanced back to see the orange beast now covered in vines, holding him tight. He glanced around to confirm, yes, this was still winter and there was the typical Canadian snow around, so where did those vines come from?

Dr. Michael Twoyoungmen stepped toward his compatriot. "Calm your rage, Walter. Find your center. You can do it," he cautioned in a calm tone. Tony saw the team medic still had one hand on his hip pouch, ready to react to any further attack from the creature Langkowski had become. The female flyer had stepped to Michael's side, cooing something toward the beast in French, too soft for Friday to pick up and translate for Stark.

Whatever they were doing, it seemed to be working. The Sasquatch was no longer fighting his bonds and his breathing seemed to be slowing? Tony tried getting to his feet when he noticed a snow owl alight on a nearby branch. It seemed to glance to him, then turn all it's attention on the drama unfolding before them. "I thought owls only came out at night?" Tony mumbled to himself before the bird jumped off the branch, only for a blonde woman in a light blue feathered cape to land on the ground before him.

"Common misperception, Mr. Stark," she informed him before approaching the others. "Is he calming, Michael?" she asked.

"It seems so, Narya," he replied. "Stay vigilant, in any case."

"Tannaraq's influence grows stronger with each transformation," she cautioned. Her teammate's faces didn't like this news, especially in front of the outsider Stark.

Her comment caught the attention of Sasquatch. In a low bass grumble he told her, "Quiet, Little Goddess."

This caused the team to go into defensive positions, as the female flyer backed away from him.

"Come back to us, Walter," Michael requested. "Your injuries have healed, and you have none to blame but yourself for them."

Sasquatch gave a deep chuckle, amused by the request. "Foolish Shaman. Tannaraq will rule this land sooner than you think."

"We will defend this land from all threats, Great Beast," Narya warned her teammate.

Stark stepped up beside her. "And they won't be alone." He raised his gauntlets as if to attack, but he had no idea if his thrashing had damaged any or all of his systems.

Sasquatch chuckled at this show of defiance, then grunted in pain. "NO! I will rule this land!" he protested as his body began to shake under his confines. The others seemed to relax slightly, but Stark wasn't so sure. Another grunt and bellow, then the orange fur started to fade even as the beast was now visibly losing mass.

Stark saw Shaman reach farther into his pouch than looked possible, especially as the outer side didn't seem to reflect a man's full forearm digging deep into it like a purse. He pulled out a sheet of material, that Stark recognized was another flight suit, similar to the one Langkowski had been wearing before his transformation shredded the one he had been wearing.

"The crisis has passed," he said, handing the suit out to his teammate.

"Yes, for now," Narya replied, eyeing the man kneeling in the snow before her as the vine cage fell away.

"Well, this has been very educational," Stark quipped, as several of the team turned away from Langkowski as the female flyer helped him into the coveralls.

"Jeanne-Marie," her twin said in an ominous tone. Stark noticed he never turned his attention away from his naked teammate.

"Silence, frere," she shot back. "I am merely helping him get dressed, not ogling him as you are." Jean-Paul harrumphed and crossed his arms, unwilling to look away. Stark didn't know if it was from brotherly concern or ...something else?

"Northstar, Aurora, compose yourselves," Hudson chided as he offered a balancing hand to Langkowski trying to step into the coveralls.

"Ok, let's see if I have this right?" Stark interjected. "You people are completely untested, using ripoffs from MY tech, and are basically your own worst enemies, stumbling over yourselves trying to prove you have what it takes to defend the world, when you can't even defend your own asses?"

Hudson stepped up to him, removing his helmet. "We sent the invite to you to ask for a performance evaluation. We didn't anticipate this, and as I already told you, Bochs and I were already working on our own designs before you decided to play dress up, Stark!"

"I had Friday perform deep scans. There's enough of my tech copied in those suits to sue you lot out of existence," Tony countered. "And who the hell is this 'Box' you keep on about? I thought it was the name for your obvious ripoff of my Hulkbuster armor, but it sounded like you were expecting someone other than Langkowski in there?"

"Look, Stark-!"

"I am looking, and the only thing I see is a bunch of amateur copycats. Only Animorphs and the twins here look unique, and we already had a speedster, however briefly, and he couldn't fly, and he died on his first mission, but that's the stakes you have to deal with. So don't talk to me like I don't know what I'm talking aboot! Then again, what did I expect from a country that has to hitch a ride to space with other countries, then proceeds to make music videos from some Bowie wannabe?"

"Colonel Hadfield is a national treasure!" Langkowski countered.

"Okay, you? You don't have any say anymore," Stark scolded him. "I mean Banner has some anger issues, but he can also control his big green self. You? Not a chance in hell."

"I've been trying to contact Bruce for help, but-"

"But he's off the grid, right now. No one knows where he disappeared to. It's actually kinda worrisome for those who actually know him," Stark admitted.

"I knew him, and that's why I'm worried about his whereabouts, too," Walter countered. "If he's lost control, what does that mean for me?"

Stark had no reply. "Look, I just- I just can't help you guys. This was strictly amateur night audition time, and here's me with a giant hook pulling your sorry asses off stage. I'm sorry. Pack it in before you get someone killed. I understand some of you need to keep Langkowski in check, but the rest should go home and not show yourselves in public again. Go to your Celine Dion and Barenaked Ladies concerts and never think about pulling stunts like this again."

A whine of engines cut Stark's scolding short. They looked up to see a mini-jet hovering overhead, readying it's VTOL to land in the crater the Box armor had created. "About time," Mac mumbled as they cleared a space for it to land.

"What's wrong with Celine?" Jean-Paul asked Stark as the hatch opened and two small men stepped out.

Well, one stepped out, the other rolled out, seeing as he was in a motorized all-terrain-modified wheelchair, since he had no legs below his knees. "What the hell happened to my armor?" the redheaded man yelled, rolling over to the remains of the larger armor.

"It failed," Walter said flatly. "I crushed my legs, broke some other bits. Had to call up youknowwho to fix myself up." Michael grunted his disproval.

"And nearly killed your team in the process," Stark added.

"You okay, Walter?" the bald dwarf with the dark beard asked. Stark noticed one of his ears was cauliflowered. He'd only seen that on long term fighters, boxers especially.

"I'll be fine, Judd. We got the Beast back in the bottle, as it were."

Judd looked from Narya to Michael, a silent understanding passed between them.

Hudson approached his wheeled compatriot. "Roger, both armors failed miserably, and we have a lot to work on before we try another field test."

"Another field test?" Stark repeated, flustered. "Did you not hear a single word I just told you? You ripped off my designs, nearly kill yourselves and others in the process of showing off, and you're all 'we just need to fix a few things'!? You people are seriously flawed and have no business defending a crossing walk, much less a country!"

"Look Stark, Bochs and I-"

"Wait, this guy is Box? That's who you've been bragging about all this time?" Stark sputtered, the pieces of this puzzle falling into place. "I don't know who you are, but if you want to build things, how about sticking to prostheses for others like yourself?" Tony knew he said that wrong as soon as it left his mouth, but no longer cared.

"That is how I got into this, when I got my legs blown off by an IED," Roger countered. Stark shirked, recalling his own near death experience-slash-assassination attempt that would lead him to building his first armor. "When my country asked me to help Mac build our own Iron Man, I was more than happy to help. So what if we don't match your genius? We're trying, dammit. And we'll try again!"

Tony tried to rub his temples, forgetting he hadn't left his mask to talk to these people face to face. "You know what? I'm done talking to you. You're going to kill yourselves or die trying, regardless of what I tell you today. I'm done with you." With that, he lifted off and headed back to the New York compound.

"The man was making excellent points," Michael advised his friends. "Walter, you should have waited until I arrived before doing anything as foolish as transforming without any safety such as myself or Narya to keep you in check. We got lucky this time containing the Great Beast with whom you share a body." He looked to the tech men. "As for the armors, how much did you copy off his work, Roger? Mac? He had a right to be angry with you two, aside from dealing with untested tech in the field. Maybe you can discuss with Alec about some sort of virtual testing before deploying either armor again?"

"Well, you're not wrong," Walter admitted. "Sorry about not waiting, but keeping Sasquatch in check after nearly dying in that tin can was hard enough and I did try to hold off as long as I could. The Beast took advantage of my pain and took over."

"Alright, well, we can debrief later," Hudson declared. "Right now, we need to get this mess cleaned up and get back to base. Heather and I have tickets to Art of Time tonight. I've cancelled on her twice now."

"Ma soeur a besoin de retourner dans son couvent, aussi bien."

"Jeanne-Marie can do as she pleases," Walter warned the speedster.

"She can also speak for herself, Waltair," she huffed.

Mac sighed. "Stark was right. We are a mess and we have a lot of work to do before we make our public debut, if we even reach that point."


Two days later:

James Rhodes walked stiffly into Tony's lab, fully expecting him to be neck deep in new designs. He was right. "Hey Tony, can you check out the balance on this rig? It's throwing off my dance moves," he asked before seeing what he was actually working on. "More armor upgrades, huh?"

"Rhodey," Stark acknowledged, collapsing the virtual files into one folder. "Didn't your mother teach you to knock?" He loaded the folder into an email and addressed it simply 'SORRY'.

"Oh? Do you want me to waddle back out and in again? I just stopped by to have you tune up these prostheses; they're a bit out of synch."

Tony leaned back in his chair, swiveled around to see his friend's braces as if for the first time. "Yeah, I can do that. Just give me one second." He spun around, tapping SEND on his message, as he did, then got up to help his friend. He stopped a second, pulling out a cheap cell phone, much to Rhodey's curiosity. He quickly typed to words: BLAME CANADA, before proceeding to assist his friend.


Elsewhere, a similar cheap phone chirped it had a text. Steve Rogers opened it, confused as to what those words meant.


An hour later in Toronto, James MacDonald Hudson checked his email. He hesitated a moment, but the SORRY header gave him a moment of hope. A big grin grew on his face as he opened the attachments from Stark.

"Roger! Drop everything and get in here!" he yelled into his comm.

"What's up now?" Heather asked, leaning over his shoulder. Her eyes widened as she saw the schematics. "Is that-?"

"An Unofficial-Official endorsement from Stark? Looks like it?" he beamed. "Don't wait up."

Heather scowled at her husband, but noticed that Stark's plans were not just upgrades for the Guardian and Box armors, but also included schematics for a female armor as well.


2/5/2017