It has been a while, and after all the muck he had led them to wade through, how nose-deep they were in it, asking a favour must sound rich. "Thor is down, but he's not out." If there's any one in the crowd who wants to sock him one in the jaw, he hopes they'll do it after they have successfully defended their Asgardian allies. "Listen up. I know I've been away for a while, but now I'm back, and I look around, and I can't stand what I see." Yep, rich. Definitely rich. "Osborn! I don't care who put him in power and I don't care what he did to get there. All I see now is a madman leading a march of troops into battle and for the life of me I can't see why. To me, it looks and feels a lot like the events that made me want to be Captain America in the first place."
Luke Cage coughs politely into his fist.
"I know not everyone here sees eye-to-eye… and I know we had to go so far as to defend ourselves against each other. But if you choose to stand up and be counted, then I think you agree with me. It's time to take back this country! Our friends and allies are being attacked, maybe killed. And we're going to go do something about it."
Nobody roll eye or squint. Steve counts that as a win. "Suit up. Be at the hangar in thirty."
It's a two-hour flight to Broxton if they travel in a straight line from here. He's packing light, so he's also first one to show up by the Quinjet.
"Master Rogers!"
Second one to show up. Steve lowers his shield so it hangs limply by his side, and greets Edwin Jarvis with a wan smile. Jarvis looks good, all things considered. How he knows the Avengers' rendezvous spot is something that should logically be on the top of his to-find-out list – is Tony spying on them again? – but he can't deny the blossoming cheer in his stomach as Jarvis steps out of the shadows to approach him.
He does not come empty handed. Steve's eyes shoot immediately to the nondescript suitcase Jarvis is totting. "Master Rogers, how very good to see you once more."
Jarvis reminds him of home, just as how he reminds Tony of his. And Tony's ominous absence drums ever louder in the recesses of his mind.
"Will you take this?" Jarvis offers him the suitcase. The weight is familiar. He hasn't seen this particular model in ages. Tony's fault. Man builds suits as quickly as he changes arm candies. "It's… just in case. I happen to know he is there. Nearby. Be a good man and help him, won't you?"
Jarvis certainly has more to say. There's something else welling in his eyes, but he simply turns around and leaves, not expecting anymore from Steve. So, Steve readjusts his grip on the suitcase, holds it closely to his chest in the crook of his arm as he fastens his shield against his back.
He spots Jessica loading a crate onto the Quinjet. She pauses when she sees him, and asks, "What's that?"
"… A promise."
As Captain America, he next passes the suitcase to the Shepherd kid and instructs him to guard it with his life. Run really fast, and look around the neighbourhood for Tony Stark. It's one heck of an order, and he feels kind of sorry for the kid to say "Yessir" without daring to ask the necessary question, "Uh, is there an address I can find Mr Stark at?"
God knows.
As Steve Rogers, he wishes Shepherd never found Tony. Or if he did, Tony wouldn't wake until hell blows over. Because… too soon. He stews over the issue in silence until Luke busts open a can of Coke as obnoxiously as he can that he realises his stormy mood has affected the rest of the Quinjet. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
Why does it matter? If Tony makes it here, good, more firepower, and they darn need all that they can muster. If Tony can't, fine by him. They can wait another day. What's more important is to get to Oklahoma soon enough before it's all but dust and pebbles.
"This ain't your mama's minivan. This is a SHIELD transport." Nick Fury is standing by Control, breathing down the Avengers' necks. "Hit it, Daisy." And behold, a wormhole of sort appears right before the nose of their jet. It's wow enough. Did Tony have a hand in designing this? Out front, Fury grins like Christmas comes early. "When you absolutely positively need to get your world security task force around the world…"
Two hours be damned. In the next blink of the eye, Steve is staring out at Broxton, Main Street.
In the thick of a war, in the midst of battle roars and explosions and plasma rays, Steve is dead sure he tracks a speck of red and gold soaring through the stratosphere. There's a litmus test he can do to check if Iron Man is onsite. A private frequency that is only open between Captain America and Iron Man. Steve eagerly turns it on, and Tony's name is about to roll of his tongue, when he catches himself before the first syllable and he says, "Iron Man?"
It stings a little when all he gets is static. But –
"Steve Rogers! You're under arrest!"
Jesus Christ.
Steve raises his shield in the nick of time, Iron Patriot's repulsor blast reflecting off the smooth surface like dew on leaves. "Funny that, Osborn. I was just about to say the same thing to you!"
And Osborn goes absolutely frenzy. With both his gauntlets facing skyward, he lights it up and screams, "You're all under arrest! You're all going to fry for – for – for treason!"
Steve shuts him up with an uppercut. The clank of metallic jaws rattling against vibranium is music to his ears. And for whatever reason, Osborn remains still on the ground, and Steve's eyes narrowed. Playing possum is beneath even for the likes of Osborn… so what gives?
His earpiece crackles to live. "That would be me, Norman." And Steve looks up to the parapet. "You know, that whole thing about he giveth and taketh away, yeah? I'll have your armour – I mean, the armour you stole from me – shut down for good in just a couple of seconds."
Steve senses more than sees Tony's own eyes raking his face. "Anything you want to say before Captain America pulls off your head?"