Prologue

VISION

"Well, Stark, what do you think?" Secretary Ross asked. Tony twirled, taking in the disturbed prison. A few Raft guards who were stalwart enough to stick around after the beating nursed their wounds. One frazzled desk jockey pressed a frozen T-bone to his head.

"Where did he get the steak?" Tony asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You asked me what I'm thinking, and I'm thinking, 'where did he get the steak?' I mean, you must feed your prisoners, really, really well. I guess all those government dollars have go towards something."

"Stark," Ross growled. "I meant the prisoners."

"Oh, them," Tony said. "I think you lost them."

Tony ran a finger up one of the open cells. They could have just as easily been torn with force, but seeing as it was Steve Rogers who did the opening, he had been polite enough to use a key. Of course, he probably had gotten out all of his aggression taking down all the armed wardens on his way in.

"Where do you think they went?" Ross asked.

"What do I look like, Sherlock Holmes?" Tony said. He clearly had no idea where they went, or any intention of tracking them down. Tony had only come to the Raft out of obligation. In signing the Accords, Tony had signed away a little, tiny part of his soul, and that was the part that Ross had dragged there.

"Can your robot help?" Ross asked.

"Actually," Tony said. "He's a sentient vibranium synthezoid. But don't worry, he doesn't have much of a temper, so he probably won't mind that 'robot' comment. Right?"

Vision stepped quietly out of a once-but-no-longer-occupied cell. "Mr. Ross may call me whatever he like," Vision said. Then, "I don't believe there's anything useful to be gained here. Nothing points to their location."

"See," Tony said. "You lost them."

"Not all of them." Clint's disenchanted voice wafted from the only cell remaining closed. He lounged on his cot, feet up in the air.

"Yes, why are you still here?" Tony asked.

"I want to see my family," Clint said. "I want a deal."

"A deal implies you have something to give," Ross snarled.

"What about good behavior?"

Ross snorted.

"Perhaps," Vision suggested, "Clint could tell us where the others went in exchange for his freedom?"

"I don't know where they went," Clint said. "I told them not to tell me so I couldn't tell you."

"Clever," Vision said.

"Don't worry, Barton, you'll get your deal," Tony chimed. He had moved on to perusing the internet for any fan sightings of Captain America. There weren't any, of course, because while Steve Rodgers was entirely recognizable, he had Tony's stealth-enabled stolen jet and a highly-trained former Soviet spy at his disposal. If he didn't want to be noticed, he wouldn't.

"You can't promise him a deal," Ross said.

"Can't I? Well, I just did."

"What if I knew where one person was?" Clint asked. "If I tell you, would that be enough for a deal?"

Tony shrugged. Ross readjusted his posture several times over before mildly saying, "Yes, I could work with that."

"Perfect," Clint said. "Scott is in the kitchen."

"Excuse me?" Ross said.

"Scott Lang. He got hungry. He went to find the kitchen."

"Wow," Tony said. "You can't find one guy on your own boat."

"You didn't find him either," Ross said.

"Yeah, but I wasn't really trying."

Scott Lang chose that moment to return, brandishing an impressive portion of frozen cow. He said, "I can't believe you guys have steak here!"

WVWVWVWV

"That was a colossal waste of time," Tony said. His helmet flipped effortlessly over his face, and he took off at a jarring pace. Vision swirled into the sky a moment later, catching up with Tony somewhere above a dark sea.

"Yes, well, Mr. Stark, not all missions are world-altering," Vision said.

"Only the good ones," Tony said. "To be honest, I'm a little surprised you wanted to tag along on this one. House calls don't really seem like your thing."

"I thought it might be good to get off the compound for a bit," Vision said. "Stretch my legs, in a manner of speaking."

The blackness that was water became a lesser blackness that was land. Clusters of gold and orange denoted towns, roads, shopping centers. Thousands and millions of people passed below, living their own distinct lives with their own thoughts, problems, passions, loves. Vision wondered how many of them might be lonely, and what that felt like.

"You could find them if you wanted," Vision said. "But you won't."

"They don't want to be found," Tony said. He blasted off faster, leaving a trail of photons buzzing in the night. Vision could keep pace if he tried, but he had enough sense to hang behind. After all, some people choose loneliness.