"Steve, I know what we need to do!"
Tony Stark's sudden spark of charisma and excitement pulled Steve from his semi-conscious state. The billionaire spoke with more enthusiasm than he had since…. No, he didn't want to go there. There had to be at least one moment when the physicist wasn't on their minds. How else would they move on?
"Do for what?" he asked, voice groggy. Somewhere along the line, Tony had taken to calling him by his first name instead of "Cap", and Steve would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the familiarity.
"To get Bruce back. We've been going about this all wrong, we need more people and more eyes," the inventor replied animatedly. He was writing down something vigorously on his Starkphone, fingers zipping over the screen like fruit flies on a bug zapper. Each tap seemed to energize him more than the last.
"What are you talking about?" Steve prompted, readying himself for the monologue that was sure to follow. Despite his exasperated tone, the soldier was enjoying this now rare side of Tony. It almost felt like he was seeing a glimpse of who he had been before, which was strange, since they had just spent thirty-two hours combing different bases in the Great Basin Desert (which, as it turns out, was one of the biggest in the country) for absolutely zero leads. Everyone else had crashed, almost literally for Clint and Thor, who were sprawled out over a few seats in the back of the jet. But of course, that would be the time Tony Stark chose to shine, when everyone else was starting to dim.
"We need to get more people, everyone possible, looking for suspicious activity. Knowing SHIELD, they are working through a military cover, if they have one at all. This nation is full of hackers and people that want to pretend to be spies, we can have eyes everywhere. Jarvis can help compile the data into locations for us to check out."
"It'll be more than we have now," Natasha called from her place in the cockpit.
"Wait, just wait. Are you forgetting the fact that this information is classified?" Steve interceded, hoping he didn't quell Tony's newfound enthusiasm.
"Well, yeah, but just hear me out," the billionaire replied nonchalantly, "What if it wasn't?"
No more than two hours later, Steve found himself standing in front of a myriad of media personnel listening to Tony Stark do what he did best.
"Bruce Banner is dead," the billionaire began. Immediately, the room burst into action. Reporters were on their feet, shouting questions, cameras flashing and microphones buzzing in anticipation.
"Please, we will take questions later if we have time. But for now, let me explain the situation to you," Tony interjected when he could get a word in. It took a few moments, but finally, the hustle died down to just a camera flash every few seconds.
"Bruce Banner was taken by the US Army four months ago, in an attack lead by General Thaddeus Thunderbolt Ross. The man came into my home- our, home, and talked Bruce into surrendering. While at the hands of Ross, hideous, indescribable things were done to Banner, things I wish I could unsee…."
Tony paused dramatically, voice catching. Steve wasn't sure if it was a facade for the crowd, or if the engineer was truly emotional. Whatever it was, he seemed unable to continue. But before the Captain could step in, Clint was leaning into the microphone, putting a supportive hand on Tony's shoulder as if he gave comforting gestures all the time. No one in the crowd would know how rare that was.
"Bruce Banner was tortured, vivisected, treated with less respect than a lab animal, and finally thrown away like garbage when his body couldn't handle the stress anymore. We recovered his body a little more than a month ago, only to once again have him stolen from us. But this time, it was someone we thought was an ally."
The archer stepped back from the microphone, apparently rethinking whatever he had been about to say. It was Steve's turn now, as Natasha was eyeing him expectantly, and Thor was elsewhere, so he couldn't be tried for revealing state secrets and risk bringing mortal affairs to the attention of Asgard.
"America, we need your help. We have reason to believe Banner's corpse is being held in an underground base somewhere within our borders, probably with a military cover story. We haven't been able to find him as of yet, and every day we don't have him is another day someone is using his corpse to create dangerous weapons, weapons no man should have the power to wield."
Public speaking was something he had been trained for, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. The pressure of thousands of eyes upon him, narrowed down to the scope of a single camera lens, always made him feel uneasy. And this subject matter was far from a light discussion. By doing this, they had basically signed and dated their declaration of war with SHIELD, even if the organization technically no longer existed. From here on out, they were on their own.
"We'll take your questions now," Tony prompted, heralding another eruption from the press.
"Why was the American public not made aware of this when it first happened? Why hide it?" one of the journalists called out.
"It was necessary, the public was convinced Banner was a danger, and we didn't want to create a witch hunt if he did manage to escape," Natasha answered cooly, a single eyebrow quirked as if the answer was common sense.
"What exactly are you asking the viewers to do?" another reporter prompted.
Steve tried to pay attention to the answer, but a movement in the back of the room caught his eye. A man in a black suit was mumbling to himself, even as he turned to leave the room, obviously listening to someone on the ear piece he was wearing. Without a doubt, it was someone from SHIELD. Anticipation and dread coiled in his abdomen, but there was no point. After this, there was no turning back, even if he had wanted to.
Bruce didn't know how long it had been when they finally snapped the lights back on. The only thing he was aware of for a few stinging moments was the completely agony in his head, and the knowledge that no matter how hard he clenched his eyes shut, the light would still pour through like molten lava.
But that sensation was nothing in comparison to the sudden blast of ice cold water that drenched him in a sopping cloak of pain. It wasn't a long stream, just barely enough to soak him through, yet it still left him shivering uncontrollably.
He was dropped to the ground without circumstance, left huddled in a pathetic ball in the middle of a puddle on the cold floor. He could almost hear his father's laugh.
Slowly, ever so slowly, his senses trickled back to him. The pain in his head faded to a sharp throb, and he was able to open his eyes just enough to see some of the room past his tears. The ringing in his ears was still a troubling presence, but Bruce realized he could actually hear something underneath it, like a minor note in a chord. He couldn't make out the words, but he knew that voice. He knew it. And it was saying his name. The sound was so comforting, he couldn't help but turn his head towards it.
And there, right in front of him, was Tony Stark.