Chapter 35 - A Wanna-Be Hero

The sun was starting to set in New York City. It had been a good day for Tony. Helen's therapy was more effective than anything he had ever experienced. It had only been 4 weeks since Siberia and he had already regained full mobility in his arms and shoulders. He still got a little winded because of the limited lung capacity. The general discomfort around his sternum was something he had gotten used to a long time ago. The doctors had completely reconstructed it when he had the arc taken out of his body. It had been painful then and the process this time had been similar. The cradle sure had proven helpful, superficial scar tissue on his chest was basically non-existent. Compared to the Jackson Pollock his chest had mimicked before, the area looked like it had never even seen a scalpel let alone an arc reactor housing unit. Or a vibranium shield. The cradle could only handle tissue though. That meant, the fusion of his own ribs and the artificial sternum Helen had woven into his chest took a little more patience, but they were getting there.

His last 4 hours had been spent on a video conference call with Pepper, a couple of board members and two project managers from the R&D labs in LA. It had been the first time in months that he had talked to Pepper in a work setting, without wanting to rip his hair or heart out. Not counting the week right after he woke up from the incident in Siberia, of course. That didn't really count. He was sick, so she had gone easy on him. Sure, the call had been all work, but it was progress. It was the kind of relationship that they were meant to have. A friendly partnership between CEO and company owner. A friendship. Maybe again at some point.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sank into the cushions on the couch in his living room. How was it only Monday? That whole day had felt like a week. His chest was aching and there was a numbness in his fingers. A new - well old, but newly acquired - engine block was waiting to be put back together in the workshop. Something to tinker with just to clear his mind. It was only 8:30 pm after all. Against his better judgment, he took out his phone and pulled up the app he had implemented a couple of weeks prior.

FRIDAY had been analyzing the Rogues' movements for him based on diverse data input from mentions on social media all the way to the low-level trackers that were still active on the Quinjet as well as some of Romanoff's and Rogers' equipment. The signal of the trackers was low. It was only meant to be picked up locally if they had to find one of them or even just the equipment during a fight when all other lines of communication would fail. It meant the data he received from the trackers was often corrupted and couldn't be pinned down precisely, but that also meant that Natasha hadn't picked up on the outgoing signal yet. It gave him a general idea of where they were at, or at least let him guess the general location of some of them. With the additional surveillance and social media pointers, there was one thing he could tell: they had been in North America for a few days now and just crossed the border from Canada into the USA that weekend. Tony bit his lip to stop himself from cursing out loud.

Fucking Rogers was getting closer and closer. Why could the idiot not just stay away?

It wasn't likely that they would show up in New York. Tony wouldn't put anything past Rogers but the crew was mostly out of funds. Most of them lost their equipment in the arrest in Germany. Hawkeye was of little use empty-handed and the Falcon probably hadn't grown wings in the Raft. They would need to remedy that situation before they could operate in any basic capacity. That was the only reason they would be in the states in the first place. The equipment was stored in a hangar somewhere outside of Washington D.C. operated by the government, but there was nothing Tony could do about deterring them. If he would tip off Ross then he'd basically admit that he had the technology to track the Rogues down. Ross was an asshole but not that much of an idiot that Tony could sell him a coincidental discovery of the gang. All that would do was make the asshole get approval from the UN council so he could force Tony to engage the Rogues and Tony wouldn't be able to deal with that. He couldn't face them. Not yet. What were you supposed to do if you had to look into the face of the guy who had lied about your parents' murder? The man who had protected their murderer. Who had almost killed him. Tony might never be ready for that but he sure wasn't now.

"Boss, sensor group SW04 is on alert. Code S007."

He frowned. "The kid?"

"Yes, Sir."

Quickly Tony jumped up from and walked towards the balcony, beer left disregarded on the table in front of him.

"He hurt?"

"The sensors on Spider-Man's suit indicate no damage or any kind of close body contact with an adversary in the last 48 hours."

FRIDAY opened the door for him to walk out onto the balcony. The Spiderling swung himself over the balustrade just as Tony stepped outside.

Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest, shielding his body. The wind was warm on that August evening but up on the 68th floor, it was still strong enough to bite uncomfortably through his clothes.

"Hey kid, you alright?"

With a quick motion, Peter pulled off his mask and gave something between a nod and a shake of his head. Like he couldn't really decide on how to answer that question. He didn't look injured, which was definitely in the plus column, but he didn't usually drop by in full gear like this.

"Remember what we talked about? About not crawling up the side of my Tower? I have a nice elevator and you have an access card for it."

"I... Mr. Stark, I..." The boy didn't even seem to listen, his breathing shallow, voice low. Well, climbing 68 floors would do that to anyone, right? The boy couldn't keep his feet still, attention not really on Tony as the boy's eyes shifting over the Manhattan skyline. "Are you alright, Sir?"

"Me?" Tony frowned. "I'm... of course. Pete, what happened?"

He wasn't meeting Tony's eyes and both his hands were clutching the mask, wringing the fabric. "Nothing. Nothing happened. I just..."

"Hey, kid." Tony stepped up to him and clasped him by the arm, pulling the boy's attention away from the early evening sky. "Why shouldn't I be okay?"

Peter's eyes were wide, his face pale and sweaty. "I... it's not... I don't know. I don't know, I just... I had to— You're up here on your own. I... I wanted to call, but I didn't. I wasn't sure if—"

"Just breathe, buddy. Come on." Tony kept his hand on Peter's arm and quickly lead him inside. The kid hardly ever stammered in his presence anymore. The last time he had climbed the Tower had been the day of the incident in Nigeria. Obviously, something was up, but Peter was notorious about needing additional motivation to spill the beans, at least when it came to the important things. There was always a certain restless energy coming from the kid. He was young and hyper and the Spider-senses probably didn't help with that. This was different though. There was something different about his vibe.

"Just take a breath and tell me what happened."

"Nothing... nothing happened." Tony dragged him all the way to the kitchen counter and pressed a bottle of water in his hand but the kid's attention didn't really seem to be in the room. "Something... something is going on."

"Is it your senses? Did something trigger you?" Tony couldn't see that blank-eyed panic in Peter, the lack of control that had so far been the prime indicators to him losing the grip of his senses. He was flushed and agitated but he was still in control. It was something like... like fear, not stress that radiated off him. "Kid, what do you mean, something is going on? Did you see something in the city?"

"No, it's... I..." The kid's cheeks were flushed and he still refused to meet Tony's eyes. "I—I can... I can just tell."

Tony reached out to get a hold of him, to pull him out of whatever was messing with his mind. "Pete, nothing is—"

"Boss, there is a call waiting for you."

"Not now, FRI. Just take a message, I'm—"

"It's a code B2 from Ross, Sir."

Tony blew out a curse. "I need to take this, kid. Just... Just go hide in your room for now. Try to calm down, alright? I don't want Ross to see you here."

"But, Sir—" Peter started forward

"Go on, kid!"

"No, please. Just let me—"

"Now, Pete!" He pointed down the corridor towards the door. The kid's face turned red, all shyness and confusion seemed forgotten as he took off with a huff, arms crossed and then slammed the door behind him. Tony couldn't get into this now though, he'd have to deal with Ross first. "Put him through, FRI."

The man's face popped up as a projection in front of him.

"Yes?" Tony did his best to keep the frustration out of his voice. There was no point in agitating the man.

"Stark, we need you in D.C. Get in that suit. Now!"

"What's going on?" Oh, for fuck's sake. Of all the days for Ross to actually pay attention, Tony could only hope that this was not what—

"The Rogues are here. Been sighted breaking into a military building just outside the city."

Tony bit the insides of his cheek to stop the groan that was building up in his very soul. Fucking Rogers. "I see."

"Get your ass here now, Stark!"

"Right away, Mr. Secretary," he bit out and waved the projection away.

Just as he had hung up on Ross the door to Peter's room flew open and the kid rushed back into the living room.

"Didn't I tell you to stay in there?" Tony snarled at him. It wasn't fair that the boy would have to deal with his frustration instead of Ross, but then what was ever fair?

"I'll come with you, Sir!"

"To D.C:? What, was there a radioactive bird bite or something you didn't tell me about?"

Peter's mouth slammed shut and he gritted his teeth. "I can... I can just hold onto you."

"Ha, the hell you will." Tony shook his head in irritation and made towards the kitchen island, his beer from earlier still disregarded on the living room table. Well, that was that for his quiet workshop night.

Peter followed on his heels. "I can. I will! You can't go after them alone."

"Not planning to," he muttered.

"I promise, I'll be careful. I'll listen to whatever you say but you can't—"

Tony turned towards him and made the kid stop in his tracks. "You want to show up in D.C. out in the open going after the other Avengers? You know how much trouble I went through to make sure that not a single spark of evidence of you fighting with us in Germany could be leaked to the public?"

"But..." The kid's hands were balled up into fists, his back straight with determination. "But I can help! I don't care if anyone sees me helping you!"

"Well, I care!" Tony tried to keep a lid on his tone, not to get angry at the defiance in the boy. "I've kept the committee and the Accords away from you for a reason, Pete. I can't do that if you're seen going against the others."

There was no way in hell he would allow the kid to get twisted up in this mess any more than he already was. It had been foolish to fly him to Leipzig in the first place. Fucking insane. He was just a kid, superpowers or not. Tony pocketed a few power bars from one of the kitchen drawers. This would be a long night.

"Sir, please! I can help you. Please, just let me help you! You don't have to—"

"No, Peter! You will not." He rounded on the boy, stepped closer to him than was technically necessary. "You will stay away from them, you hear me? If they show up anywhere near you, you will fucking run in the other direction as discretely and fast as possible. Are we clear?"

"But, Mr. Stark—"

"Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, that's our deal!"

The boy had taken a step back from him but his eyes turned soft and big with what looked a lot like fear. "You can't go alone, Sir. Please, please you can't—"

Tony couldn't help but shudder at the panic in Peter's face. "They'll be gone by the time I even get there, alright?" He sighed and put a hand on the kid's shoulder, an attempt to defuse the situation, to calm the kid's nerves as much as his own if he was going to be honest about it, which he certainly wasn't planning to be. "Rogers is many things but he's not stupid enough to stick around long enough after Ross already got wind of him being in the country."

That wasn't even a lie, plus Tony would make sure to stall his own arrival. Even if the Rogues were thick enough to stick around for longer than anticipated, they should be gone by the time Tony would get there. He had absolutely no interest to have footage of him fighting the Rogues circulate on the internet and the news networks. He had no interest in fighting them in the first place. For all he cared, they had better stay as far away from each other as humanly possible.

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony looked up at Peter whose eyes had flickered down to Tony's chest. Tony pulled his hand back with a start, had not even noticed how he'd been rubbing it up and down the artificial sternum in his chest.

"You don't have to go, Mr. Stark. You're still healing. Please, just—"

Tony dropped his hand. "Actually, I do have to go. But you don't. And I'll be damned if I don't keep it that way."

"What if something happens and nobody is there to back you up?" The kid's breathing was turning frantic, his eyes wide. "What if they hurt you?"

"It's gonna be fine, Pete. There's not gonna be a fight."

"You said that in Germany as well," the kid whispered.

Tony blew out his breath and ran a hand through his hair. The kid's concerns were touching, truly, but this wasn't the time. He hated having to leave the boy like this, still unsure what had prompted him to drop by in the first place. He hated this whole mission in itself. The kid might even have a point. He shouldn't be flying into that mess. Especially when he was basically just hoping that it wouldn't end up in a confrontation, based on nothing more than his own assumptions. Flying into that mess on his own made his stomach turn.

"Hi, FRI. Send a mission statement to Vision to meet me there."

"Right away, Boss."

The boy looked up at him, eyes pointedly wet. "Pete, I want you to go home. Stay off the streets for tonight. Nothing is going to happen to me and you are safe at home, alright."

"Mr. Stark—"

"I don't want to hear it! You're not coming, end of discussion." Frustration was prickling up and down his spine, his fingers still awfully numb in contrast. He headed outside, towards the platform. "Go home and take the damn elevator!" A small wave was enough for FRIDAY to have the pieces of the Iron Man armor merge around him. He shot a last glance over his shoulder. "Car's on standby. Take that and keep your head down." And with that, he fired up his thrusters and took aim for the capital.


##


The car ride back to Queens was one of the loneliest and most useless Peter had felt in probably ever. He hadn't felt this much like an 8-year-old little boy sent to his room without supper even when he had been an 8-year-old little boy. Mr. Stark had not even wanted to consider Peter's help. Had outride forbidden him to go. And with everything that had happened the last time Mr. Stark had gone on his own...

Peter had tried his best. He had made it to the Tower in time. When Karen had shown him the Reddit post of what people were speculating to be the Rogues and managed to extract the location where it was taken, pinning them in Pennsylvania, Peter had jumped into action. He had been waiting for this, convinced it would happen at some point. Rogers would come back for his shield. Mr. Stark had stored it in one of the wall panels in the lab. Rogers wouldn't let that go. That shield was tied to who he was, to his very identity and Peter had been ready for when he would show up to reclaim it, but no. Apparently, he had miscalculated. The Rogues had gone on to D.C., not to New York.

Peter had been absolutely, positively determined to defy his mentor's order and accompany him anyway. But how was he gonna get to D.C.? He couldn't fly. He could have webbed himself to Mr. Stark but that would have been a) awkward and b) super inconvenient. He'd never gotten away with it either.

He had tried to get his mind off it, had gone out into the night anyway and let his frustration fuel the chase of a couple of car thieves. The tracker of his suit was simple enough to disable. Peter had switched from using the laptop to using his phone to access the secret server. It was a lot more flexible to work with. Now he could just turn the transmitter off and manually change the location of his suit to the coordinates of his bedroom, no matter where he was. It made the curfew Mr. Stark had set irrelevant and he could stay out as late as he liked. After all, he was on summer break and he didn't need kid-gloves. He certainly didn't need training wheels. He was Spider-Man after all.

Mr. Stark would never know. He was too busy with his solo missions anyway. Even if he did find out, Peter couldn't quite find it in himself to care. What was the point of all of this, of his strength, his speed and this ridiculous suit if he wasn't allowed to actually make a difference? Peter couldn't help but spiral down further and further into a dark mood. Couldn't help images from the fights in Germany and Siberia flickering up in his memory as he webbed-wrapped the two thieves who had tried to dodge him sprinting across Cypress Hills Cemetery. The catch didn't do anything for his mood though. Time to just head home and mope. It was bullshit. All of it. The Rogues. The authorities in the city as well as the country and the UN. All their bullying and power games. It wasn't fair. He wasn't going to allow these monsters to torment Mr. Stark any longer. He would find a way and when he did—

"Peter!"

He flinched back, the handle of the apartment door still in hand as May stormed from the living room towards the entrance. May? She was supposed to be at work!

"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to call you for almost three hours! I called Ned, I called everyone in my contact list."

Peter could only blink at her. He had nothing.

"I'm talking to you! Where were you?"

"I... erm..." Damn. He had put his phone on 'do not disturb' earlier that day and hadn't thought to change the settings after he had left the Tower. Had only turned off the suit's tracker. He had no excuse ready to go for her, except some form of the truth. "I... I was at the Tower, actually."

"It's Monday! You go to the Tower on Mondays now as well?"

Peter bit his lip. "Not... not every Monday, but there was a project that Mr. Stark was going to finish today and I really—"

"—you really wanted to watch." She had her arms crossed, eyes narrowed on him. "I want to know where you are going to be when you leave this house, Peter. You're 14 for god's sake! This is New York City!"

He bit his lip, eyes on the floor, hoping it would translate more as shame than the annoyance that was actually rushing through him. "I'm sorry, May."

"I called you! Why do you have that phone if I can't even reach you on it?"

"I... I keep it on silent... in the lab." That wasn't a lie either. Mr. Stark would go out of his mind if every twitter notification on his phone would chime up with a cheerful 'bling!'. "I... I forgot to turn it back on, I'm sorry."

"Is this what you do while I'm at work and think you're safe at home?" She had turned her back, pacing up and down the living room. "I don't like this, Peter. I honestly don't like any of this."

"I just forgot to tell you this morning. I'm sorry." He could feel the heat that rose to his cheeks at the blatant lie, but thankfully May was still pacing, only sending him short glances. "It's not like I'm out gambling or something. It's a great job and I just really wanted to go."

"I want you to succeed, honey. I do! More than anything! But our lives are very, very different from that of a Tony Stark. There are different rules for us. And there are definitely different rules for you!"

He shook his head, dismissing the implication. Like he didn't know that. There always seemed to be different rules for him than everyone else. Mr. Stark himself had just made that point very clear.

"I wouldn't even know about this if my shift hadn't been cut short. Peter, I can't have you just do whatever you want without telling me." She stopped at last, eyes on him. "If this is the kind of conduct that is taught and encouraged over there, then maybe this isn't the best fit for you. If this is the kind of behavior you're coming away with from this internship, it's... it's unacceptable. I won't have it!"

"I said, I'm sorry! I promise it won't happen again. It was just... just a special occasion and I didn't know if this chance would come around again while I still got the chance to learn from them!"

"You've been spending a lot of time at that internship and I'm glad that you've got this opportunity and that they ended up valuing your time there. But maybe... maybe with the new school year approaching it'll be time to focus your schoolwork again."

His jaw dropped. He thought he had dealt with May's reluctance for the internship already! He had thought that all these suspicious feeling "You... you really want me to drop the internship?"

"Honey, you've been working for them all summer long. Honestly, I'm not comfortable with all the long days and all these nights you came home late. You're a student, not one of their employees."

He shook his head in bewilderment. "Right now, but... but when I'm done with high school maybe they'll... maybe they'll turn this into a full-time gig! May, Stark Industries is the biggest tech company in the world! Mr. Stark, he—"

"And what about college? I thought you wanted to get a degree in engineering or chemistry?"

"I..." He frowned and shuffled from one foot to the other. "I did. I mean, I do. And with a letter of recommendation from Stark Industries I could—"

"Peter, do you know how much work a degree like that is? You're 14! You have so much time. You can work for years and years, but you're only a teenager once! You only have now to do all the teenager-stuff."

"I... I do..." He shook his head in irritation, trying to fend off the uncomfortable truth she was trying to get at. "I do do teenager-stuff."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time you went out with your friends? Went to the cinema or out to the park? I can't even remember the last movie you raved about or the last time you had Ned over for dinner."

He scowled at her. He had just been to the park yesterday, stopped a guy from stealing two bicycles.

"I do go to the park! And I totally hang out with Ned like all the time."

Fine, most of the time she thought he was at Ned's, he actually was on patrol. And he couldn't really have Ned over when May was home because there was always the risk of Ned bringing up how often Peter really did ditch him in favor of the internship or patrolling. But May didn't know that so it was really unfair that she would use it against him without even knowing the full extent of his antisocial— He really needed to stop making the case against himself. It didn't matter. What he did was important, teenager or not.

"It's a lot of money, May. What they pay me now."

"And I'm glad they do. Finally." He cringed at the dryness of her voice. "But money can't buy back your youth."

"But it can pay for college!"

"So can a scholarship if you spend more time focusing on your schoolwork in the next year!"

He crossed his arms and stared at the carpet. There was no way he'd give up the internship. No way he'd even consider it. Not just the pretend part that he actually spent out Spider-Man-ing, but the hours with Mr. Stark in the lab as well. There was no way.

"Just think about it, okay? I don't like how they groom you into a little worker bee at that company."

He grimaced in annoyance at that. He'd been so careful to drop positive little stories about Mr. Stark again and again for the last few weeks but May's distrust just didn't seem to want to go away! "They aren't grooming me into anything. I like—"

"Peter, just think about it. I think it's time you cut back on the hours you spend there. I don't like what this is turning you into."

"That's not fair! I don't—"

"And this is exactly what I mean." She looked up at him, her gaze almost positively drilling into him and he had to force himself to withstand the urge to turn away from her. "You don't raise your voice to me, Peter. I'm responsible for you and you can be damn well sure that I won't tolerate you taking on any of Tony Stark's antics."

Frustration was burning in his eyes, but he couldn't let his mood ruin this. He forced his voice to stay low, reasonable. "Mr. Stark didn't even—"

"We're done talking about this!" She was determined. "Unless you want me to pull my consent altogether right away."

His jaw slammed shut. May couldn't be serious. His eyes stung and when he realized how close he was to actual tears he turned on his heel, stormed into his room and slammed the door shut behind himself. Head buried in his hands he leaned against the door, stifling a guttural groan. May did call out for him a couple of times to come back out before she sighed herself and started banging around with some dishes in the kitchen.

Peter flung himself face-first onto his bed. What was going on? He was slipping from one nightmare scenario into the next. He had been so careful after May had been conciliated with the paycheck they had received from the internship, so careful to paint a positive picture with every little interaction he could share about his work with Mr. Stark. How had she gotten so mad so quickly? She never usually spoke to Peter like that.

There had only been one incident that had gotten him in serious trouble with his aunt and uncle over the years and that had been so long ago. He couldn't even really remember most of the details around it. It was before they had moved to New York, must have still been in New Hampshire. It had been about that one framed picture Peter had of himself and his parents. Peter had taken it out of the house and shown it to a few boys he was trying to befriend. May found out about it somehow and had been mad as hell. He had never seen her like that before and never since. She took the picture from him and the lecture on private family business and how it was never to be discussed with strangers, would live in Peter's memory forever. He had wanted to argue how the boys weren't strangers. That they were his friends. Julius's mom even worked in the principle's office of the school Peter had been supposed to attend in the fall.

All of it had come as a shock to him. Ben hadn't been pleased with him either but it was May who had been properly mad. Soon it hadn't mattered though. Ben had found a new job in Queens and they had moved to New York City. A few weeks later for his birthday, Ben had returned the picture with a new small frame and told him just to keep it in his desk drawer.

Peter had made sure never to bring up his family's business to strangers again. Had gone out of his way not to upset May. Made sure he was the best-behaved kid May could ask for - well not counting the sneaking out and Spider-Man-ing.

He had always been well behaved and polite. He had always listened to whoever he was supposed to listen to and where did that get him? Maybe all this polite obedience was nothing more than craven submission. Weakness. Those weren't qualities that a hero should hold onto. A wanna-be hero. That was more like it. He still had a long way to go before he could live up to that hero status.

His thoughts wandered back to Mr. Stark. Peter opened one social media app after the other, searching for any news about D.C. but there was nothing. It was driving him insane. The not-knowing. The wait. He buried his face between his arms, tempted to just let his frustration take over and scream into his pillow.

Instead, he picked up his phone again and went to the little short cut he had implemented. It was sick and wrong, but he couldn't help it. He had found the videos by accident. He had really just searched Mr. Stark's ghost drive for any backups of the video evidence of his patrols that he had been carefully erasing from the drive. All those videos that the suit recorded of him using all these featured that he technically wasn't even supposed to know about. It had been an accident, a mistake, but once he had started, once he had clicked on one of them, he just couldn't stop himself.

There were all these little home videos of Mr. Stark and his son stored on the server. Sometimes less than a minute long, obviously filmed intentionally by Mr. Stark or Miss Potts. Others were a lot longer, casual situations recorded by the AI that pre-dated FRIDAY.

It was not just morbid curiosity, the thrill of learning more about Mr. Stark's human side. That wasn't even what affected Peter. It wasn't even that those private moments of baking Christmas cookies or playing with that little bot that followed them around the house had sated his curiosity after Peter had learned about the man's son in the first place. It wasn't even about Mr. Stark at all. It was how easily Peter's twisted mind could see himself in that young boy. It was all too easy. Aiden Stark was just a little dark-haired boy and it was the easiest thing in the world for Peter to imagine himself in those kinds of family moments with his own dad. How he might have played with him building little towers out of toy bricks. How his mom might have carried and tickled him just like Miss Potts had done with that little boy. Peter had none of that. No videos, no photos, barely even any memories of them. Except for that one picture. This could so easily have been how his life had looked like at one point.

Maybe all this was counter-intuitive. Maybe those videos should make him mad or sad or depressed but his twisted mind didn't work like that. He was addicted to these daydreams and they soothed something in Peter's very soul that he was too scared to really question. It was wrong. That much he knew. All of it. That he was on that server in the first place. Betraying Mr. Stark's trust. He hadn't set out to do this. He hadn't gone looking for this but after he had dipped a toe into that water it had turned into a bottomless vortex.

Peter shut off the clip he had been watching and instead went to the Spider-Man folder and carefully erased all the videos that would prove this very patrol that Mr. Stark had just outright forbidden. The thought crossed Peter's mind to look up any new backup videos the Iron Man suit might have recorded an hour or even minutes ago, but just at that moment, a news alert popped up on his phone.

"IRON MAN IN WASHINGTON, D.C. - POSSIBLE ROGUE AVENGERS SIGHTING SUSPECTED"

The article showed grainy footage of the Iron Man suit flying around a warehouse, conversing with Vision. None of them even pictured the Rogues. Mr. Stark should be safe then. For now.


###


(author's note: Thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments! They really are such an awesome motivator.

Next chapter will by up by the end of the week, so the wait shouldn't be all that long ;)

Thanks for reading and sticking with the story.)