"Did I do them in my sleep or something, Jarv?" Tony asks desperately, barrelling down the stairs to his workshop and firing commands from his tablet to his suits. "You know, like, sleep-fixing. Please tell me there's at least one I can use to bash the Cap. The Wannabe Cap."

"I'm sorry, sir," says Jarvis, apologetic to the last, "You decided to create Lighter as opposed to fix the suit. Since the last battle only the Mark XV is in working order, running at 88 percent. It isn't advisable-"

"Don't give me that crap, I'm not an idiot," Tony groans.

"No, sir. Regrettably."

But Tony doesn't have time to soothe Jarvis' irritated nerves, not when someone dressed as their own dear patriot is smashing streets. It'll be hell for the PR, and guess which Avenger fronts all of that? Yeah. Tony doesn't have time to put a band-aid on all of New York and kiss it better because some dickhead got a Cap suit and biceps on his biceps. He has actual work to do.

The suit is waiting for him when he reaches the room. It's unfolded, and it's the work of a second to shrug off his torn work shirt and jeans. He tosses them in the corner and wriggles into the black bodysuit, designed to make the Iron Man as comfortable as possible.

Still not very comfortable.

But, hey, beggars can't be choosers, although Tony makes for a very strange beggar indeed, kitted out in several billion dollars worth of tech and sliding another few million over his face.

"Hello, sir."

"Jarvis," sighs Tony. "Okay, let's go."

He walks until he reaches the nearest window. Clint and Natasha, the Archer and the Widow, will be waiting for him on the roof, as per usual. Most times it's Tony and Clint doing the aerial stuff, Natasha and Steve doing groundwork and Bruce just smashing his way through things, Thor reserved for the same purpose. With their ranks depleted so often, however, joined occasionally by the vigilantes New York is springing to life, they often have to improvise.

Like now, as Tony suspects with a sinking feeling. Great. Fantastic.

"Jarvis, pull up the news reports on the attacker, give me any important details," he says, kicking at the window on the twentieth floor and leaping into the air below him. He drops for a heart-stopping few seconds before the jet propulsors kick in. A lag? Really? Fantastic. "Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir. The attacker is very clearly not Steven Rogers, as several reporters have displayed. He is smaller and appears to have less brute strength. He is currently holding a jewellery store hostage at gunpoint."

"Fuckin' fantastic."

"What's fuckin' fantastic, Stark?"

Clint's suited up already and perched on the roof, sunglasses on, arrows slung across his back. Jesus. And Tony thought he was fast. And Clint and Nat haven't slept in four days, apparently, having just got back from a mission.

Tony would pay good money to never become a SHIELD agent. Ever. Ever.

"I'm fuckin' fantastic," Natasha purrs, slinking up the stairs in her black catsuit, her belt hooked with stun grenades and tiny, lightweight guns. Most of it, Tony's designed himself. Her Widow's Bites hang prominent, and he tries to stop himself feeling ridiculously pleased.

"The Captain America duplicate has begun making serious threats, sir," says Jarvis, a tone of anxiety in his voice. "I would advise making haste to the site of the attacks. I am currently trying to contact the Captain, Doctor Banner, and any available associates in the city."

"This shouldn't be a big fight," Tony assures his AI. Should it? Despite himself, he feels a rumbling of unease in his gut.

It'll be small. Just some punk trying to pull a stupid stunt.

The PR will be hell, but apart from that, there's nothing to worry about.

"I'll jump rooftops, you take Clint," Natasha taps Tony's metal-plated shoulder with the tip of her short fingernails. With a grin and a toss of her red curls, she taps the heels of her boots together twice.

Tony grins inside his helmet. "Widow's slippers."

"Don't let it get to your head," Natasha says teasingly, and makes a running leap for the next building over. (Several storeys down and not half so opulent.) Tony and Clint watch in amazement as she spins and her boots suck her towards the sheer glass walls of - Pym Technologies, maybe - and as she begins to sprint up the wall, Clint whistles.

"Jesus."

"C'mon, Hawkguy," Tony says. He's proud of those gravity boots. Pleased that Natasha would wear them.

And they have a dickhead to beat up, and that always makes Tony's day better. It's like the city is spitting stress balls at him, stress balls that bite back. Much more satisfying.

Clint whoops when Tony lifts them off the roof and over the city. Jarvis keeps reeling facts off in his ear, and Tony considers opening the channel to the three of them, but then realises it would just irritate them. He's used to Jarvis in his ear constantly; they're not. So Tony swoops above Natasha's black dot of a figure, with Hawkeye dangling from his arms, and tries to ignore the lag in his jet propulsors every time he tries to rise and fall.

"Readout?" He asks Jarvis in a whisper. No fear of that being picked up by the comms the other two wear.

"Eighty-seven and falling, sir." Disapproval from the robotic butler - Tony hates how much his life resembles a kid's cartoon these days. He can't take himself seriously.

"Drop me, Stark!" Clint suddenly yells into the commlinks. Natasha makes a tiny yowl of annoyance.

"What?"

"Drop me, you dumbfuck, if I land on that roof I can get a good aim at the Capstifake!"

With a muttered, "Capstifake, really,", Tony makes his juddering way downwards. Natasha begins running down the side of the building Clint wants to land on, and Tony can see the red and blue suit of the fake Cap. A quick zoom in through his helmet shows the shaking hand and the slim pistol clenched with two white-knuckled fists.

"Dammit, I hope Steve shows soon," Tony mumbles.

Clint hums. "I feel you, bro."

And Tony tries as best he can to steer his fast-failing suit down to the action. He isn't subtle, but the news cameras and circling helicopters mask the sound of the suit, and he lands concealed in a side alley. Natasha's much less conspicuous. Let her get the hostages to safety before Tony starts shooting wildly, right?

"Hold it, Iron Man, I'm on the ground," Natasha's voice crackles over the comms. "Hawkeye. Stay put. Stay ready. Get my back."

"Gotcha back." Clint's probably got a stun arrow aimed at the guy's head, but Tony knows as well as the other two that a quick shot could get the perp to spasm, fire the gun, and kill a bystander.

Tony hides, and waits.

"Sir. Suit working at eighty and falling. I am now calling the Captain. I will stream the call to your helmet, although I advise you keep silent. Don't arouse suspicion."

"Thanks, Jarvis," Tony sighs. He can feel the suit giving up, losing the functions from least to most vital. The heating has gone, the cool air stopped blowing over his body, and now he's sweltering and sweating in a giant tin can. He's basically cooking in the summer heat. Soon, his external commlinks will give up, and then he'll be left with Jarvis and his failing suit. Man, he's got to keep up with this thing.

A peek around the corner shows Natasha sleuthing in the shadows next to the Cap impersonator. Tony tilts his head up, sees Clint kneeling at the edge of the rooftop, an arrow nocked and aimed straight at the head of the shaking fake-Cap.

He lets his head rest on the wall behind him. The suit is too damn hot. He can't think properly with this pressure in his helmet. "Jarvis, you get Steve?"

"Forwarding the call now," Jarvis says, sounding slightly stressed.

Tony slumps further against the wall. The ring of Steve's phone sounds in his ears, too loud, too piercing, hitting his migraine at just the right volume to increase it. C'mon, Steve, pick up, he wills silently. The Captain has a track record of forgetting his phone, or just ignoring it. (He prefers to speak in person.) Please, let that not be one of those times. C'mon, Steve. C'mon.

"Tony?"

"Steve! Thank God. Okay, where are you?"

"SHIELD Headquarters, I - Fury wanted to see me, something about the Howling Commandos - what's wrong, Tony? Are you hurt?"

"Nope, but our shares will if you don't get your stripy ass down to my location. Some dumbass is dressed as you and he's shot up a jewellery shop, holding some citizens hostage. It'll be PR hell if we don't have you down here. I can just imagine the Daily Bugle, they'll have a field day. And that dickhead Senator, what's-his-face, Franklin."

"Okay. Tony, I'll be there in five. Who's on call?"

Tony can hear rustling in the background, and Steve's voice is slightly fainter. He must be changing, pulling on the spare suit the SHIELD guys keep in storage. Coulson had something to do with that. Tony ducks his head around the corner again, sees Clint in the same motionless position and Natasha ever so slightly closer. "It's me and Clint and Nat. I don't think this dude's going to shoot, he's too scared, but he could do something accidentally and we'll be demonised by all the middle-aged white moms in good ol' Murica."

"Right. Banner?"

"At some Biology meet somewhere. I don't think the Hulk is suitable here, anyway." Tony wishes he could undo the clasps on his helmet. A readout in the corner of his eye tells him the suit has fallen to seventy-five with no sign of stopping - in a few minutes he won't be able to talk to Nat, Clint, or Steve. Fantastic.

"I'm coming. Be there in five. Tony, try talk him down if it's safe. Don't endanger yourself, okay?"

"Got it, Spangles. Don't endanger myself." He feels the suit constricting his shoulders, feels the sun increasing the temperature. Sees the readout: seventy-three. "Steve, gotta go. I'll be totally not reckless at all. See you in five."

Jarvis cuts the call.

"Sir, I advise allowing the Captain and the Agents their turn to dissolve the situation without conflict. This is the wise course of action."

"Yeah, because I'm totally known for my level head and patience, right, Jarv?" Tony sighs, then straightens up. "Okay, channel the power from the propulsors into the air conditioning before I boil in my own sweat. Let's go beat up a white kid."

Jarvis makes a little hum of disapproval but nevertheless, after a few seconds, Tony can relax as a cool breath of air blows across his forehead. He straightens up and once more, leans around the wall; CNN has a camera-copter, CBS has a reporter standing in front of the smashed jewellery shop, and Fox News is just setting up next to the CBS guy. More media coverage! Tony can just imagine all the conscientious bloggers opening documents to begin their rants on the rights of American citizens.

He steps around the building, and for the first time that day, is grateful for the sun that flashes off his suit and draws all attention to him. Including the Cap-guy.

He sees Natasha violently shove her middle finger in the air.

"Hey, guys," says Tony cheerfully. The Fox News woman begins flicking at her cameraman desperately trying to get some of the action.

"Don't!" The Cap-Guy shouts. "D-Don't come any closer or I'll shoot! I swear it!" He jabs his gun at the 'hostages' - two buff guys holding Starbucks carry-outs with disgruntled looks on their faces. Hah. Hostages? CNN didn't mention that the hostages were a buff gym rat couple that could knock Cap-Guy's nose into the back of his skull, if they wanted.

But rippling pectorals probably wouldn't protect them against a bullet.

Tony gestures. "Dude. Who do think you're kidding. You're on Fox, man. They'll put your face on the screen and tell the world you're a misunderstood individual. And that's Fox-code for 'fuckin' maniac'. Do you really wanna make that happen?"

"I'll shoot!"

"Kid, no you won't." Tony glances sideways. Clint's got the stun arrow aimed again, and Natasha's continuing to creep. His comms have given up, but he's willing to bet a considerable amount of his fortune on the two of them cursing him over the air. "Listen, man, why did you pick Cap? Of all the people to dress up as? You could have been me, and people would actually believe it."

The gun lowers. Tony sees the two buff guys begin to edge slowly out of the picture, and hopes he can keep this spinning for a while longer.

"I didn't pick the Captain."

"Okay, kid, great, you can tell this great guy called Nicholas all about it. He's like Santa. If Santa were black and had an eyepatch and a leather fetish." Tony takes a step closer and hears the roar of a motorbike, feels the heat inside his suit pick up a little. Jarvis is trying his best, he has to, but it's not enough. Tony's got to go home, got to lock himself in his workshop and fix his entire life.

"No!" The kid drops his hands to his waist, looks at Tony with a frightening urgency. Tony feels that unease in his gut once more. "No, Mister Stark, you don't understand! I didn't pick the Captain-"

The motorbike growls very nearby. Tony knows that noise, he invented that noise, and estimates that Steve is about half a minute away. "Kid. Kid. Drop the gun and stand down and I swear, we can have this discussion when it isn't being broadcast on national television."

"But-"

"And Captain America himself has arrived on the scene!" The Fox News girl is having a field day here, screaming it out for everyone to hear. Tony, relief pouring off him in buckets, takes a few clanking steps away from the kid, who's trembling like a leaf.

Steve himself steps off the bike. His shield is slung over his shoulder, his leather cowl hanging from his neck, his goggles bouncing off his chest. "Hey, Tony. Widow. Hawkeye."

"Yo, Cap!" Clint yells from the roof.

Natasha emerges from the shadows and salutes. Somehow she manages to make it look sarcastic. (Hey, that's Tony's job!)

"Hey, kid," says Steve.

The Cap-Guy actually squeaks and drops the gun. Behind the line of cameras and police, the two buff guys are being interviewed. Cap-Guy's lost. "Oh my God! Captain America - I'm - I didn't-"

Steve looks over the kid's head at Tony. His face droops, a kicked puppy, saying how can people be this stupid, and he sighs. "Much as I'd like to do this in public," God, that sarcasm, where has Steve been hiding that, "Son, Iron Man is right. Step away from the gun and come towards me."

The suit really is boiling.

Sixty-seven percent.

The pressure will be next to go, and soon every breath will be a struggle. He grits his teeth and stands stolid and waits for Steve to quit the camaraderie so they can go home and do their various chores.

The kid's head droops and the fabric around his shoulders bunches; for the first time, Tony sees how skinny he really is. Skinny, and young. A red-gloved hand pulls off the cheap mask, no Stark-designed leather here, and immediately Tony hears the Fox News woman screeching about how black teens these days are turning to crime more and more.

The kid's eyes look strange for a second.

Tony shudders, although whether from that same creeping unease or something else, he can't tell. He wishes the kid would stand straighter. Do something. Stop shaking, stop looking so panicked at Steve standing solemn as the grave a few feet away from him.

Two officers emerge from the lines of cameras and riot shields.

"I didn't do anything, sir," the kid exclaims finally. "I swear! I - one moment I was in Target, I was buying my mum a present, and then-"

Tony looks up and sees Clint fire a rope from the end of an arrow, looping it around his waist and legs and beginning to lower himself off the roof. He feels the archer's disappointment like a tangible thing. Clint's been itching to fight for weeks, ever since those Russian mobster types kicked him out of the flat he was living in.

Natasha walks up, hips swinging, unafraid. She leans down and winks at the CNN camera, which has zoomed in on her ass.

"I don't - I'm confused, I didn't choose you, I didn't pick the Captain -"

Tony's close enough to Steve to hear what he whispers in the kid's ear, although he hopes no one else is. Steve's too damn kind to be in the public eye so much. Steve's too damn kind to be doing stuff like this.

The fight has deflated like balloons once the carnival has packed up and moved on.

"Please don't make them hate you," Steve mumbles, pointing discreetly at the news crews. "You can play this as the misunderstood teen, I know you can, and SHIELD is fair. The Avengers will be there. If you're innocent, we'll make sure those responsible get punished."

"You punched Hitler in the face," the kid says. Awestruck. A fifteen-year-old with his dad's collection of Cap comics - Tony can picture it well enough.

Steve smiles. "I did."

And then there are those black cars that Tony hates, the ones SHIELD drives, and men in grey suits and ties and sunglasses.

How cliché.

He takes a deep, deep breath. "St - Captain, I'm going back to the tower. There's something urgent I've got to do."

Steve nods, although Tony can see the questioning gaze in his eyes.

"We'll stay with SHIELD," says Natasha professionally.

"We will?" Clint whines.

Natasha digs a sharp elbow into his side. "Yes. We will."

Sixty-five. "Sir, you must return to the Tower," Jarvis says, voice crackling.

With no more words, Tony makes his wobbly way into the air and towards the glimmering shape of his own creation, which shines in the afternoon sun.

As soon as he lands on the roof his fingers find the clasp on the suit and he falls to his knees, the metal clanking off him and bouncing everywhere. He thinks a wristplate might have fallen off the roof, but he can get Jarvis to fabricate a new one.

That kid.

Something about the whole day has been... off, somehow, and it's nothing to do with Tony's lack of sleep and failing suit.

He leaves the broken pieces of metal where they lie and saunters into the building, where the new bot, Lighter, is waiting. She rolls at his knees, seeking a stroke at the joints - Tony is happy to comply. "Something was weird about that," he muses aloud, to Jarvis and himself.

"Yes, sir. More light will be shed when the Captain and the Agents return, no doubt."

"Hm." Tony strokes Lighter and wonders.


ShadowHunter19 - Thank you! And thanks for reading the other story, I'm overwhelmed with how much people seem to like it, so thank you!

A.N

As the story progresses these chapters will get longer, as I publish chapter two, chapter three is already 2.5K and counting. So don't worry about getting a little content with a long gap between chapters, I will keep updating and they will be long!

Please remember to review, favourite and follow, as they really do inspire me to keep writing better and faster. Thank you!