The Avengers Whump & Bromance Anthology

The Vision Worshippers' Revenge

Whumptober 2020

PenPatronus

The stuffing was coming out of the ancient eye doctor's chair Tony was strapped in. It was wobbly, shaking every time Tony shifted his weight. And it was that gross shade of burnt orange everyone associates with the 60's. Tony decided to focus on these facts – on the way his neck felt against the headrest, the way the torn armrests irritated his skin, the plastic sheet under his sneakers – because, if he didn't, then his focus would be on the burning sensation the mystery liquid in the IV caused as it dripped through the needle in his arm. His focus would be on his broken foot and the way it was throbbing. He'd put up one hell of a fight when he was kidnapped, and his broken foot was the consequence.

The rogue robots had downloaded themselves into Tony's Iron Legion bots during the Avengers' latest adventure. They'd kidnapped Tony in the middle of the night – right out of the Tower – and taken him to some vacant eye doctor's office somewhere in New York. They hadn't flown very far and, even though Tony was only half-conscious during the trip, he was sure they were still within the city. That had been three days ago. Tony was weak with hunger. They'd given him a little bit of water, but not enough to sustain him. For three days, the robots demanded that Tony turn them into bots like Vision. It was then that Stark realized these bots were the same that had nabbed Clint months ago. The Vision Worshippers.

For three days, he told him that, no, it was impossible to turn them into Visions. For three days, they didn't believe him.

When the mystery liquid had been in his body for five hours, the robot who called himself "Dad" returned to the office.

"Your team isn't coming for you," Dad said. "We're sure of that now."

Tony harrumphed. "Um, yeah, do you not know the Avengers? They're on their way right now. I guarantee it."

There was a smile in Dad's voice. "Actually, right now they're leaving a cemetery. The service was quite nice. Miss Potts and Steve Rogers spoke very highly of you."

Cold dread replaced the warm liquid in Tony's veins. "You faked my death?"

"Successfully." Dad walked around the chair, absent eyes on Tony's expressions. "Private plane went down in the Pacific. No survivors. Now we get to keep you as long as we want."

Tony glared at the robot. "I wonder what they buried in the cemetery. You think there's a casket with my worldly goods in it? You know, like an ancient Egyptian sarcophagus? Fill a coffin with my collection of first edition Beatles records?"

Dad made a sighing sound with absent lungs. "I knew you were an insolent asshole, but I didn't think you'd be so… Exhausting."

"You really should know that about me. You got into FRIDAY's systems. You should know everything about me."

"I know the important things. I read your therapist's reports, your surgeon's notes, your doctor's reports… Your social security number and credit cards, of course…"

Tony rolled his eyes. "My therapist thinks I'm narcissistic, my surgeon thinks my heart only has about ten more years left in it, and my doctor's concerned about my drinking habits. And my social security number is 792 09 0664."

Dad chuckled. "You're off by a few digits."

"Pepper knows it."

Dad kept circling. "And what do you think about Miss Potts?"

"She's the most beautiful, insightful, observant, loyal, clever woman in the universe and I don't deserve her one bit. And I love her more than I ever thought I could love anyone." Tony frowned at himself. "Why did I tell you that…"

"And what do you think about Steve Rogers?"

"He's the most honest, trustworthy, bravest man in the universe. He annoys the crap out of me and I adore him and I don't deserve his friendship one bit." Tony looked down at the needle in his arm. "Truth serum? You're putting truth serum in me?"

Dad stopped in front of Tony and put cold, robotic fingers on his warm hands. "You keep saying that you can't turn us into beings like the Vision. I don't believe you're telling me the truth. This will make you."

Tony sighed. "For the hundredth time: Vision is unique. What makes him special is the Mind Stone, not anything I did."

"Then duplicate this 'mind stone.' Make more."

"That's impossible," Tony said. He explained why. The longer he spoke, the harder Dad squeezed his hands. Tony heard something pop.

Dad's voice got low. He spoke slowly. "There's really nothing you can do. You. Banner. Cho. You can't make us Visions."

Tony leaned forward so that they were truly face to face. "There isn't a damn thing I can do."

Dad roared and punched him right in the mouth. "I don't believe it."

"You're the one who put that serum in me," Tony gasped as blood splashed out of his mouth. "You know that what I'm telling you is the truth."

"I would've been beautiful," Dad mourned.

"You don't deserve to be beautiful," Tony spat.

Dad suddenly put his hand around Tony's throat. "You're of no use to me anymore," he hissed. "I should kill you."

"Go ahead. I don't care." Tony heard himself say those words as if from far away. Did he really not care if he died? That would have to be the next subject of discussion with his therapist.

Dad squeezed harder. Then, suddenly, he let go. "I have nothing left to live for. This is all we wanted – all we wanted in the world. I think we'll go with you."

"Go with me where?" Dad left the room, head bowed. "Go where?"

A minute later, Tony smelled smoke.


Clint wanted to be alone after the funeral, so he went for a walk. He was already alone in one other way. He was the only one on the team who thought that Tony was still alive. There were seven minutes of missing security footage that FRIDAY couldn't account for. It happened the night before Tony was declared missing, and later declared dead. The other Avengers said it was a fluke, a mistake in the system, but Clint was convinced that it was significant – that something either blocked or erased that footage. Maybe the others were too deep in their grief to see it, but Clint wasn't. He just didn't know where to begin. There were zero clues, just a soldier's instinct.

He ended up at his favorite shawarma joint where he ate outside on a bench. The restaurant was beside an abandoned eye doctor's office. "Vision Care" the practice was called. Clint shuddered at the word "vision." It wasn't that long ago that he was kidnapped by a bunch of robots who called themselves the Vision Worshippers. They'd used him as bait to get to Tony and Bruce. Clint hated being bait, almost as much as he hated mind control.

Speaking of vision, Clint thought his was messed up a minute later when one of Tony's Iron Legion robots suddenly burst from the roof of the eye doctor's office and disappeared into the city, shouting, "I don't want to die!"

That was when he smelled the smoke. His shawarma dropped to the ground.

Burning to death wasn't on Tony's list of preferred ways to die. He didn't realize he even had a list until he was in that chair, watching and feeling the flames getting closer to him. Smoke swirled around his head. He was going to die, but all he could really think about in that moment was how hungry he was. He wondered if there were cheeseburgers in heaven.

"Tony!" a familiar voice called out "TONY!"

"Clint?" Tony coughed. "Clint! Here! Back here! No, wait – Barton – get the hell out of here, this place is burning up!" The truth serum kicked in. "Clint, I can't lose you! Get out of here!"

Clint suddenly appeared at the door to the office Tony was in, his sleeve against his nose, eyes wide and red and his face – grinning. "I knew it," he said between coughs as he worked at unstrapping Tony to the chair. "I knew you were alive. I just knew it!"

"That's lovely, Legolas, but seriously – you need to get the hell out of here. Leave me behind."

"Not a chance," said Clint as he removed the final strap. "I can't wait to see the looks on the others' faces when they see you."

The flames got higher and hotter, and Tony's foot was broken. Clint threw the other man over his shoulder and RAN. The firefighters and paramedics yelled at him to stop when he barged out of the burning building. The man he'd rescued probably needed medical care and he probably did, too. But, Barton, though he slowed down to a walk and put Tony on his one unhurt foot so they could limp together, wasn't going to let his friend out of his sight. He'd take him to the hospital, sure, but not just yet.

They walked to the Tower. It was three blocks away.


The other Avengers were in the sitting room, silently eating crackers and drinking wine and avoiding each other's gazes. The gloomy bunch were interrupted when the nearby elevator opened, and Clint led an exhausted, starved, partially singed, broken Tony Stark into the room. Jaws and glasses of wine dropped. Clint pointed at Cap. "You were wrong!" he said. "You were wrong, and you were wrong, and you were wrong!" he declared, finger going from Natasha to Bruce to Thor. "You were all wrong!"

Tony waved. "Hey, guys."

No one said a word. The shock was paralyzing.

"Now we can go to the hospital," Clint declared, and he walked Tony back into the elevator.

The End