Natal Void

by Elite500

nothing yet

3. Chapter 3

Steve's head, chest, and right leg were hurting very badly. In the crash, he had probably broken some bones.

He opened his eyes slowly and tried to see out of the windshield, but it was completely smashed, nearly impossible to see through. All he could see, through a fissure where the windshield had actually split and not just cracked, was a glimpse of the twisted and bent hood of the car and the big tree they had crashed head-first against.

Oh, God... What happened?

He turned his head, slowly, and looked towards the driver's side of the car. The movement made the muscles in his neck contract in pain.

Bucky was there, hunched over the steering wheel. For a moment Steve feared the worst, but then, after a few incredibly long seconds, his best friend groaned in pain and straightened himself, leaning the back of his head against the seat's headrest.

"Buck, you okay?" Steve asked.

Bucky didn't answer. Why wasn't he answering? Where the hell are we, anyway?

He slowly and painfully turned his head in the other direction to look out of the side window. The impact had been so hard the window had shattered.

It looked like a secondary road. Trees were flanking it from both sides like a forest, along with a few lamp posts that bathed the street in a sickly yellow glow, the only thing contrasting the darkness of the pitch black night.

Suddendly, despite his ears still ringing from the crash, Steve heard something.

It sounded like an engine. And it was growing closer.

Thank God. They'll help us get out of here.

Sure enough, a headlight appeared in the distance. A motorcycle.

At first, it looked just like a tiny white dot, but as the bike approached it became almost blinding, like a torch pointed right at Steve's face. Mercifully, the biker stopped at some distance from their car, turning off both the engine and the light.

Steve couldn't really make out his appearance as he dismounted from the bike. He noticed he was dressed in black, tactical gear as he started walking calmly around the back of the car. Steve had a really bad feeling about this...

A noise from the driver's side had Steve turn his head so fast that it hurt even more than before. Bucky had managed to open his door and was trying to crawl out of the car. As soon as he was out, though, Bucky collapsed on his hands and knees.

Steve tried to get out and help him too, only to find that both his legs were stuck under the collapsed dashboard. To make matters worse, when he tried the door handle, he realized that in the crash, the door frame and the roof had bent, jamming the passenger door shut.

As he turned again towards Bucky, the sight made his heart leap in his throat: the man with the motorcycle unceremoniously grabbed Bucky by the hair, pulling his head backwards.

Steve tried to wiggle free, but it was no use.

"No! Stop! Leave him alone!" he shouted instead.

Surprisingly, the mysterious man did.

He released Bucky and, with the same leisurly pace as before, he walked back around the car to Steve's side. Steve could hear him approach from behind him. He was already mentally trying to get ready: he might be stuck in the car, but he wasn't gonna let this guy hurt Bucky without fighting.

However, all the fight left him completely, being instantly replaced by abject horror, as the man appeared from the car window and Steve could finally see his face.

"...Tony?" he whispered, surprised at how his voice sounded so pleading and broken.

Tony simply stared down at him as Steve took in his appearance. His face was just like it had been in Siberia: covered in blood, his facial muscles all taut with pure rage.

A destroyed arc reactor sat in the middle of his chest, horizontally broken in half, its flickering, dying light looking seconds away from disappearing completely. And then there was his left arm: it was chromed, shining metal.

"Who the hell is Tony?" he snarled, walking away from Steve and back around the car.

"No... No, no no no... Tony, wait..." Steve pleaded desperately. This couldn't be happening.

He was gonna kill Bucky. Tony was gonna kill him!

"Bucky, run! Run away, Buck! You gotta run! Get up!" Steve urged, turning back to Bucky. But it was no use: Bucky was still there, on his knees, completely defenseless.

"Tony, wait... you can't do this... Please, Tony, stop..." Steve tried again, now on the verge of tears.

Tony didn't listen: again, he grabbed Bucky by the hair. Again, he harshly pulled his head back. And then he opened his left hand right in front of Bucky's face.

There was a repulsor embedded in his metallic palm. It charged with the usual, ominous whine.

"Tony, please... He's my friend..." Steve pleaded one last time.

Tony hesitated.

For a moment, Steve thought he had gotten through to him. For a moment, he believed Tony had listened.

But then, Tony's voice shattered whatever illusion Steve was starting to believe to: "So was I," he whispered, firing the repulsor.

Bucky's head exploded. Blood flew everywhere, covering Steve's face in vermillion.

Steve woke up screaming.

The Winter Soldier was executing the mission with his usual, ruthless efficiency.

Everything had gone flawlessly so far: he had blown the front right tire of the car at the perfect moment for making it veer right against the tree. The timing had been perfect, and the sedan was now two feet shorter, front end completely destroyed.

Time to retrieve the package.

The Soldier got off his bike. He strolled to the back of the car, opening the trunk.

The package was there.

Perfect. If the Winter Soldier hadn't been completely incapable of feeling emotions, he would have felt gleeful right now. The mission had gone without a hitch. Maybe, they were not going to put him in the chair this time. Maybe they were just gonna put him back in cryo.

But then a loud noise of metal scraping over metal, followed by a dull thud, caught his attention.

The driver. He was still alive. He had managed to crawl out of the wrecked car.

The Winter Soldier narrowed his eyes.

The directives were clear: no witnesses.

He moved away from the back of the car and towards the man that was trying to crawl away from it. From him.

The Winter Soldier was completely incapable of feeling emotions, but a small, broken part of him, Bucky Barnes, was already feeling sorry for this man, and disgusted with himself.

Yet another victim.

But it had to be done: the Winter Soldier had received orders, and he had to follow them.

He couldn't shoot the man, or it wouldn't have looked like a car accident anymore. He had to punch him hard enough to kill him. One punch, and he would be dead immediately. Another just to make sure. The man wasn't going to suffer more than necessary.

He grabbed him by the hair, ready to finish him. He pulled his head back.

Horror sent him reeling as the Winter Soldier immediately receded, and Bucky Barnes instantly regained control of his body.

The man... he knew him...

Howard... no, not Howard. His son...

Howard's son... oh God...

Howard's son looked up at him. His face was covered in blood. But he didn't look like he was in pain. He was smiling.

"What's wrong, Soldier? Not gonna finish what you started?" he growled.

Bucky stepped back in fear. Howard's son... Iron Man...

He's strong... too strong! He's gonna kill me!

As Bucky stepped back, the other man got up: "Aww, come on. You were doing great so far! What's eating you up now? Don't want to live with an entire family on your conscience?" he asked, still with that ominous smile on his face. But then, his expression changed completely.

His face went lax and pale. Deathly pale: "Well, it's too late for that..." he said, pointing a finger towards Bucky's left hand.

Bucky looked down at it.

In his hand, a still beating heart was slowly going still.

Bucky jumped in horror, dropping the terrifying organ. It contracted one last time before stopping completely.

With a supreme effort, Bucky tore his horrified gaze from the dead heart and looked back at Howard's son. That was when he realized everything had changed.

This wasn't a secondary road anymore. It was cold. They were indoors.

They were in Siberia.

Iron Man stood before him, walking towards him as Bucky stepped back in fear. Only then, upon a closer look, Bucky noted his appearance.

His armor was badly damaged. The helmet was missing, his face still bloody and deathly white. But the thing that captured Bucky's attention was the gaping hole in the chest plate, where the main power source was supposed to be.

Blood was seeping out of it, trickling down Stark's abdomen. The hole wasn't just in the suit. It was in his thorax. He could see the broken endings of the ribs at the sides. His sternum and heart were missing.

"You did this to me..." Stark seethed.

Bucky tore his transfixed eyes from the gruesome display on Stark's chest to look back at his face.

"You finally finished what you started all those years ago. You killed an entire family."

Bucky was horrified. No... no, I didn't- I only wanted to disable his suit! I- I can't have done that!

"Sargeant Barnes?"

The new voice coming from behind him made him jump and snap around. There, looking at him with the same lifeless and bloodied face as his son -the same face as when Bucky had killed him - was Howard. His old friend.

"Darling, is this Bucky?"

Yet another voice startled him, again coming from behind him.

Howard's wife. She, too, was covered in blood, and looked at him emotionlessly.

Bucky was surrounded by the three Starks. He didn't know where to run.

Howard's face twisted in a frown as he seemed to exhamine him closer. Paralyzed by equal parts fear and guilt, Bucky didn't even try and escape from that inspection.

Then, Howard frowned more. This time, it was stern: "No. This isn't Bucky," he said, "Bucky is dead. He died a long time ago. All that's left is the Winter Soldier."

For the first time, Bucky found his voice: "Howard-"

"The man that killed us all," Howard's wife interrupted him, "the man who massacred our entire family..." she said.

"Yes," Howard agreed, "The man who killed our son."

Bucky was desperate: "No... no, I didn't... I didn't kill your son, I didn't-"

"He must be stopped." This time, it was again Howard's son who talked: "We can't let him go. We can't let him destroy other families like he did with ours."

This time, Bucky didn't even have the time to react, as Howard grabbed his left, metal wrist and pulled at his arm, as his wife did the same with his flash and bone hand, pulling him in the opposite direction.

Bucky tried to struggle, but they were too strong. He couldn't move an inch. As they held him in place with his arm wide open, each holding the hand that had killed them, Iron Man positioned himself in front of him.

"No! Please!" Bucky pleaded, "I'm not the Winter Soldier! Please, Howard! I'm Bucky! I'm your friend!"

"You are the Winter Soldier." Iron Man contradicted him, raising a hand. His repulsor charged with that terrifying whine that scared Bucky to death: "and you must be stopped."

Iron Man fired.

Bucky woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his bed.

After waiting for the sun to set and the darkness to come, Clint didn't have much time. He wanted more than anything to be able to stay, but what they were doing was too important. He would have to leave soon.

He was thanking God he had even managed to come home for a few hours.

But he had to be cautious. That bastard Stark was still after them. And maybe he was lurking close right now, or he had someone watching from a distance. Goddamn traitor, forcing him to sneak into his own house like a thief...

Clint managed to sneak in from the back door. Without turning on the lights, he silently made his way upstairs, where the bedrooms were. Stark was not gonna stop him from seeing his children...

...except his children weren't there.

He looked into Cooper's room first: the bed was undone, and Coop's clothes were thrown haphazardly around the whole room, but there was no sign of him. When he tried Lila's bedroom, he found it in exactly the same state as her brother's, but Lila was nowhere to be seen.

A small twinge of fear was starting to creep down Clint's spine. The only bedroom left to check was his own, as Nate still had his crib there so he or Laura could be there if he needed it.

He opened the door and crept inside. The room was empty.

Where the fuck are they?

Then, all of a sudden, he heard a noise. He turned around drawing his bow and arrow, ready to fight.

The noise was coming from downstairs. From the kitchen.

Clint slowly made his way down the corridor and stairs.

That noise... it sounded like... giggling?

When he reached the kitchen, all was silent again. He tried to hold his breath and listen carefully for a few seconds, but the entire house was completely silent. He drew a breath and lowered his weapon.

"What are you doing here?"

The sudden voice startled him as he turned around.

Laura was there, right behind him. She looked angry. How did she sneak up on me like that? Clint thought.

"I asked you a question," Laura insisted. In the dim light of the dark kitchen, she looked ominous: "What are you doing here?"

Clint was confused: "What do you mean? I've come home. To see you and the kids..."

Laura tilted her head: "Oh, so now you care about us?"

Clint frowned: "What- of course I care! You're my family!"

His wife scoffed, smiling evilly: "Not anymore, we aren't. You left us to go chase Little Red Sokovian Hood's skirt, and you expect us to welcome you back home with open arms? No, Clint. It's way too late for that..."

That twinge of fear Clint had felt earlier grew like a tidal wave: "Laura... what do you... what are you..." he spluttered.

Laura sneered: "I've found someone else..." she said simply.

Just as Clint was about to react, another figure appeared from the darkness right behind Laura, enveloping her in a possessive hug: "Hey there, Barton!" Stark greeted with levity, a sneer on his face matching Laura's own.

Clint reeled back. He tried to raise his bow and arrow, but they were gone. Disappeared. All he could do was point an accusing finger at the newcomer: "You! What are you doing in my house!? Let her go this instant!"

Both Stark and Laura laughed good-heartedly: "And why should I, Legolas? I'm only doing what the lady asked of me..." Stark said, grabbing Laura's shirt and violently ripping it open.

Laura let out an exclamation of surprise, followed by an amused giggle, as Stark's hands started roaming over her body: "Mmmm... to think I could have dumped you right when you brought Tony here during Ultron... Instead I kept dragging around your dead weight for more than a year after that..." she moaned, as Stark cupped her breasts.

Clint was practically petrified by the display in front of him. Laura continued: "Thank God I finally left you... Going from you to him was like jumping from a tricicle onto a Quinjet. He makes me feel alive... As if I've been comatose the whole time I was with you and I've finally woken up..." she said dreamily, with her eyes closed.

Tony slipped his left hand under her bra, groping her right breast, and his right hand traveled down until it disappeared into Laura's jeans. She bit her lower lip, opening lust-filled eyes: "He satisfies me in ways your pathetic micropenis never could in a million years," she spat derisively.

Behind her, Stark lifted an eyebrow at him: "Want a demonstration?" he asked before licking Laura's neck.

Clint woke abruptly, drenched in sweat, finding himself in a white, aseptic cell.

"Three minutes. Get what you need."

Tony had hesitated when Rogers had said that. Everyone else had gone to gear up for battle immediately, including the Hydra Twins (and seriously, was no one else gonna remark that those two were trying to kill them not twenty-four hours earlier, and now they were lounging in his tower as if they were old friends?) but Tony had needed a few seconds to get his brain into gear and connect his legs to it to go prepare.

Jarvis was lost. Gone forever. This new character - Vision, they had taken to call him - was him, but... not. He was what was left of Jarvis, but he wasn't Jarvis.

It hurt.

It hurt like hell.

And it hurt even more when he got to his console and took out Jarvis' now irreparably compromised drive from the mainframe.

He tried not to think about it, to focus on the mission instead. Ultron was gonna come at them with everything he had: it was time to break out Mark 45. He also needed a new copilot. A new AI...

Friday is by far the most advanced, he thought, even more than J in some aspects...

God, J is gone...

"He is good."

That voice made him jump. He turned his head so fast he nearly got a cramp in his neck.

The Hydra girl was there. She was fidgeting with her hands, although it didn't look like she was trying to attack him. Actually, she looked... upset, about something.

"That... person, or whatever he is. He has a good heart. I can see it."

Yeah. Thank you, Miss Obvious, I saw him lift Thor's hammer too, you know, Tony thought, but he didn't say anything, just narrowing his eyes at her.

"I... I think he gets it from you," she continued awkwardly.

Tony scoffed: "If he got it from someone, it's from Jarvis. Definitely not from me," he said, turning back to the screen in front of him.

"Don't say that, Mr. Stark..." the girl replied, with a voice that sounded oddly pleading.

Tony once again turned on his stool to face her. The girl looked down, still fidgeting and looking very awkward: "I never met this Jarvis, but he sounds like a very good person. I... I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Stark. I-I know how much it hurts to lose a loved one... and I know that... this moment must be very difficult for you, and that... that I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now... but... I wanted you to know that you... you shouldn't think you failed, or... or that you're wrong, and-"

"I'm sorry, is there a point that you're trying to make here?" he asked, tired of her babbling.

She winced slightly: "I guess... I... I wanted to say that I was wrong. Uh... about you. I- I was always so angry, and my anger sought a target. And you were it. I always thought... thought you were bad. But now that I can see you... the true you... you're nothing like the despicable man I thought you were. You... you're a good man, Mr. Stark. A good man."

She finally mustered up the courage to look him in the eye: "I wanted to tell you that. I can see the good in you, just like I can see it in the Vision" she added.

Tony would be lying if he said he wasn't taken aback. The girl looked down at her feet again: "I also wanted to apologize to you. For everything. I have wronged you, in more ways than one. But... I don't feel like I'm ready to ask for your forgiveness yet. Not with Ultron still on the loose."

Tony tilted his head as she once again looked up at him: "I will try to make it right. I'll fight with you. If we survive, I know I don't deserve it, but I hope you'll find it within yourself to forgive me. And if we don't make it... I wanted you to know, for what it's worth... I'm sorry."

Tony didn't know what to answer. She just gave him one last, tight smile before turning on her heels and leaving him alone.

Huh. Validation AND an apology. That's new.

Tony hadn't asked for neither of those things, but now that he got them... he actually felt a tiny bit better about himself.

Tony woke up feeling more rested than he had in months. He had slept really soundly that night.

He got up and started to get ready: he had to leave for San Francisco in a couple of hours, to meet with Hope and Paxton.

Wanda collapsed on her bed, out of breath and completely spent.

It was almost impossible, with that blasted suppressor around her neck, to gather enough power to reach Tony's mind. It didn't help that she was three stories underground and in a different part of the Compound. In the end, she felt completely drained.

But she had made it. She was exhausted, but she had managed to reach into his dreams and give him a nice memory. The spark of joy she felt from Tony in the end, albeit very small, had made it all worth it.

It was a start. She'll make it right, with time.

She smiled happily, closing her eyes, and drifted into a contented sleep.

"Stark Industries will buy a non-controlling quota of Pym Technologies' shares, amounting to twenty-five per cent of the company's total value, at the market price those shares held two days ago. This deal has been already voted on and approved by the Directive Boards of both Companies, and has already been put in effect. Hopefully, it will keep Pym Technologies afloat despite Hank Pym's actions."

Everyone in the room turned their worried gazes at Hank, as the TV displayed his daughter's statement.

They didn't have to wait long to see his reaction.

Hank's face went ghostly pale, his eyes impossibly wide, as his brain elaborated his daughter's words. The left corner of his upper lip twitched three times, right before his eyes rolled back into his skull and he lost consciousness, falling down from his chair.

Steve and Scott were at his sides in an instant. They got him laying supine as Steve set to check his pulse on his wrist.

Scott, already slightly panicking, patted his face gently: "Hank? C'mon man, don't be like that..." he called.

Evidently, Scott's words were exactly what the older man needed to hear: Hank's eyes snapped open, and with remarkable agility for a man his age - especially one who had just fainted and was clearly borderline on having a stroke - he sat bolt upright gripping Scott's shirt collar with both hands before yelling: "Don't be like that!? Don't be like that?! It's my fucking company! The work of my entire life! And my ungrateful, backstabbing, cranky daughter just sold it to that asshole Stark, of all people! And I don't have to be like that!?" he bellowed, scaring the crap out of both Steve and Scott.

Bucky had also taken a step back, seeing him snap like that right after looking like he had just had a heart attack. Sam, on the other hand, tried to downplay it: "Well, she only sold twenty-five per cent of-"

"Shut your face, Wilson! You know nothing, so fuck you!" Hank cut him off, shouting even louder. His face, that had gone almost cadaveric as he had first heard the news, was now so red that it looked like he was asphyxiating. On some level, he probably was.

Steve stood up for his friend: "Dr. Pym, you need to calm down-"

"No, YOU need to calm down!" Hank yelled right at him, spluttering saliva all over his face, "and get your hands off me!" he continued, angrily shrugging off Steve and Scott's hands that were holding him upright and getting up on his feet.

He turned to the TV just as Hope's answer to Christine Everhart aired: "Anthony Edward Stark is, by a landslide, a better man than you can possibly hope to become." she said angrily, looking at him directly through the screen before turning on her heels and briskly walking out.

Hank stared at the TV like he wanted to incinerate it with his eyes. He was visibly shaking with rage, his hands balled into fists, his face cherry red with a pulsating vein bulging on his forehead.

After a long moment, he stiffly squared his shoulders, though the trembling didn't recede in the slightest. With considerable effort, he schooled his features into a sarcastic smile, even though he still looked like he had swallowed a bee. Or, in this case, a wasp.

He turned around, looking them all in the eye with that disgusted grin: "My own flesh and blood. Did you hear that?" he asked to no one in particular.

Nobody answered him. He turned back to the TV and scowled at it as if he wanted to scare it: "You guys need to teach her some manners..." he said, walking out of the room, leaving Steve stunned into silence, Scott nearly wetting his pants from the scare, Sam restraining himself from beating up an old man, and Bucky wondering how the heck he had ended up in that situation.

It hadn't been difficult to get in contact with his old colleagues. It had been difficult, however, to convince them to help.

Hank was currently sat on the passenger seat of a stolen minivan, in an underground public parking lot. He was tapping nervously on the inside of the door panel. His contact was already more than five minutes late...

Suddendly, a silver Range Rover appeared in front of them and approached slowly. It stopped right next to the minivan, so that the front passenger windows of the two cars were facing each other.

Hank rolled down his window, but he had to wait for a couple of seconds before the passenger of the SUV did the the same.

Inside the Range Rover were two men. The passenger looked about Hank's age, while the driver seemed maybe five years younger. Both had suspicious and unfriendly expressions.

"Todd, Liam, long time no see," Hank greeted, forcefully cheerful.

"Hank," the passenger of the Range Rover replied simply, not changing his expression.

Hank awkwardly took it upon himself to make some introductions. He turned to Steve, sitting on the driver side of the minivan: "Captain, these are my ex-SHIELD colleagues I told you about, Todd Sutherland and Liam Edwards. Guys, this is Captain Steve Rogers." he said. Steve only nodded to them.

The two newcomers narrowed their eyes: "Is he still a captain though?" the passenger, Sutherland, scoffed, "I heard the Army is a bit pissed with him..."

"Just the Army?" the other man, Edwards, asked sarcastically to his friend.

"Look, there have been some pretty big misunderstandings," Steve intervened, "but we are the good guys. We're the Avengers, we fight for the people. And in this moment, we need your help."

"You're the Avengers?" Edwards asked, nearly laughing in his face, "Huh. And here I was thinking the Avengers were those sanctioned by the UN..."

Hank narrowed his eyes at them, speaking before Steve could: "Okay, we're going a little off topic here. We called you for help. Are you willing to help us?"

"Well, I'm not sure we should, Hank. No offence," said Sutherland, before his friend added: "Ever since SHIELD fell - and by the way, thank you very much, Rogers - we have over a dozen national and international intelligence agencies breathing down our necks. We've had to keep a low profile. So you see, helping international fugitives, the leader of whom actually put us out of a job in the first place, isn't exactly our gig..."

Steve was about to protest, but again Hank spoke before he could: "So you want to keep your heads down for the rest of your lives? Don't you want to be able to go outside without having to constantly look over your shoulder?"

They didn't answer. Hank pressed on: "Captain Rogers didn't have a choice when he exposed Hydra. He had to act fast and there was only one way to do it. He put you out of a job, you say? Well, here he is, giving you a chance to get your life back. We'll show the world how corrupt Stark and the Accords are. And when we do, we'll be hailed as heroes. No more hiding, no more 'low profiles'. We're gonna do it with or without your help, but with it we'll be able to do it much faster and you would be given the consideration you deserve for helping us. So, you want in or not?"

Steve, for a moment, had wanted to protest. He had wanted to point out that Tony and his team were good people, they just didn't see the big picture. But actually, Hank's words seemed to get through to his old colleagues.

Edwards and Sutherland looked at each other seriously, whispering to each other. It was one of those occasions in which Steve really didn't like having enhanced hearing:

"What do you think?" whispered Sutherland.

Edwards' eyes bulged slightly at his friend: "You're not seriously considering helping Rogers of all people, right? He's the one who screwed us over! Remember Rutherford and his family? They were all slaughtered because Rogers blew his cover!" he seethed.

Steve flinched as Sutherland replied: "I know. And believe me, I like this even less than you do. But Hank might have a point. After all, Rogers is the one who put us in this situation, it's only fair he helps us getting out of it..."

After a moment, Edwards shook his head and raised his hands in surrender, before Sutherland turned back to Hank and Steve: "Follow us", was all he said, rolling his window up as Edwards started the engine of their car and pulled away.

Steve and Hank exchanged a triumphant smile as they followed. Steve felt a pang of guilt for this Rutherford agent that they had mentioned, but Hank was right: he had had no choice. Collateral damage happened, they had to accept that. He would formally apologize to Edwards, Sutherland and the rest of their colleagues as soon as he had the occasion. Actually, since they were willing to help them, they probably saw his reason already.

Hope and Jim were sitting in the policeman's Crown Vic, waiting. They had been there for about ten minutes, enough that the engine had already started cooling off.

The nondescript, black sedan was great for stakeouts. The same could not be said for the torch red Ferrari 458 that roared down the street and came to a stop right in front of them. Tony and Sharon got out of it a moment later.

As Hope and Jim got out of their car, the girl shook her head, smiling: "You're not really familiar with the word 'subtle', are you?"

Tony smiled an amused smile, taking off his sunglasses: "I'm Tony Stark, formichina. I don't do subtle," he replied, before turning to Paxton: "Hey, Jim," he greeted cordially, holding out his hand.

"Hey, Tony," Paxton replied, taking his hand and smiling, "Don't listen to her. That's one hell of a car."

"Thanks! Hey, have you met Sharon? She's the Avengers' mascot..." Tony smiled, pointing at the blonde.

Sharon rolled her eyes fondly and held out her own hand: "I'm Sharon Carter. Tony's babysitter. Nice to meet you, Sargeant."

"Jim, please," he answered, shaking her hand.

"So, what are we here for?" Tony wanted to know after the introductions were dealt with.

Hope pointed to a decrepit van on the other side of the street: "The owner of that."

"Yo, guys!" Luis greeted, entering his apartment and tossing the keys on the credenza, "There's a wicked Ferrari parked downsta-"

He stopped short, seeing Dave and Kurt sitting grim-faced at the kitcken table, but four other people were also in the room: one of them was that cop who was now banging Scott's ex, then there was Scott's hot sorta girlfriend who had joined the Avengers (was she another ex now? The whole thing was screwy), another chick - blonde, also hot - who was reading a manila envelope, and...

"Dude, you Iron Man?" he asked incredulously, pointing a finger in Tony's direction.

"'S what they call me, dude. You Luis?" Tony replied, pointing at him in exactly the same way.

"...yeeeah?" Luis answered unconvincingly, looking at Dave and Kurt for a clue. They looked up at him as if they were falling from the clouds.

Luis did what he did best: he started babbling.

He turned to the cop: "Hey man, if this is about Dave driving your car against a tree last year when we dealt with Cross, you really didn't have to call the Avengers to kick our asses-"

"It's not about the car," Paxton stopped him, raising a hand, "it's about Scott."

"What about him?" asked Dave.

"He's a fugitive, duh," Hope answered, "and we want to know where he is. I don't suppose you guys know anything that could help us?"

"No!" Luis answered way too quickly. All four of his guests narrowed their eyes at him.

Luis looked flustered for a moment, but recovered quickly: "And what if we did? You think we gon' help you catch Scotty? Ha! Ain't shit that you can do to make us talk!"

"Yeah, bro!" agreed Dave.

"Well said!" added Kurt.

Paxton was just about to point out that actually, there was something they could do to make them talk, like arresting them all for abetting an Interpol most wanted, for example. But they weren't done yet: "Scotty's a hero, ya know what I'm saying?" Luis went on, "Showed those schmucks at VistaCorp what for!"

"Yeah, dude! Dropped the Boss' Bentley into his pool too!" Dave backed him up.

"Hell yeah! And your fancy Ferrari should be parked right next to it, Iron Man!" Luis concluded. Dave and Kurt cheered and whooped in approval, and even high-fived.

Paxton was ready to arrest all three of them, but Sharon stopped him: "Hey, Luis, can I ask you a question?" she chimed in, not looking up from the file she was reading.

"What is it, Iron Man's concubine?"

Now Sharon looked up at him scathingly, so much so that Luis actually took a step back in fear. But she didn't press the matter: "I'm reading here that you met Lang in jail after you were arrested for stealing... two smoothie machines. Wow. Ok, whatever, doesn't matter. I wanted to ask you... that's your van downstairs, yes?"

"Yeah, what about it?" asked Luis confused.

"How would you feel if the owner of those smoothie machines took your van and threw it into a pool? I bet you wouldn't like it, would you? But following Lang's logic, you stole from him, so it's his right to throw your van into a pool, right?"

Luis was stunned speechless. Kurt turned to Dave with wide eyes: "Why does scary lady sound like she is talking sense!?" he whispered, slightly panicked.

"I dunno, man!" Dave replied, also shaken.

Luis reeled a few seconds before protesting: "Bu-but it was just two smoothie machines! 'S not like they're worth millions, like what VistaCorp stole!"

Sharon made a face: "Yeah, well... your van doesn't exactly have the same price tag as a Bentley either, does it? No offence..."

Scott's friends were left speechless. Hope decided to press them more: "My friend has a point there. In Germany, Scott smashed a Blauflug plane. But he doesn't have a car that Blauflug Airlines can seize and drop into a pool, so that's a problem... I mean, without a car to throw into a pool, they could try to hurt Scott himself for what he's done. Not only Blauflug Airlines, but also the Leipzig-Halle Airport personnel, and those from the Susquehanna Steam Electric Station... hmm, how can we keep all these people from hurting Scott?"

"I have an idea!" Tony interjected, theatrically raising his hand: "Maybe we could detain him, and then... let a jury of his peers decide how he should pay for the damage he had done!"

"Hey, that's actually a great idea!" Paxton answered, feigning an incredible epiphany, "It would ensure justice for all the damaged parties, and also keep them from trying to attack Scott personally! What do you think, guys?" he finished, switching his gaze between Luis, Dave and Kurt.

"That's... that's..." Dave blabbed, incapable of coming up with any other words.

"He ain't gonna be judged by his peers anyway!" Luis then shrieked, finally coming up with a counterargument: "You rich boys will lobby your way in and sway the trials, we all know how it works!"

Tony had lost his patience: "Alright, let's cut the crap," he growled, stepping right in front of Luis, "You think your friend's a hero? Well let me break it up to you in a way you'll understand: Steve Rogers and his crew are considered terrorists by the United Nations! And not the nice, ethical hacker type terrorists, we're talking about the nasty, bombs in the streets type terrorists! Your friend nearly killed half my team in Leipzig, including the King of the most powerful country in all the African continent! And let me tell you, his associates aren't any better! Siberia aside, they nearly caused a Chernobyl reboot in Pennsylvania! You can read the official reports, it's all there! In fact, the Sokovia Accords Committee was ready to issue a kill order on them all after that snafu if the Avengers failed to capture them again! So, if Lang stays on that bandwagon, rest assured he's not gonna end well! Now, you wanna help us bring him in alive or would you rather hear on the news that they've bombed him with a drone or sniped his ass a la Osama Bin Laden?"

Luis just looked at him with his eyes wide, speechless. "Fine, have it your way," Tony said, turning to leave, "Let a Navy SEAL death squad handle this, see if I care. I've wasted enough time. Let's go, fellas!" he beckoned to Sharon, Hope and Paxton.

As the three moved to follow Tony, Luis finally found his voice: "Wait!" he called.

The four turned to him, and so did Dave and Kurt. Luis eyed Tony: "You gonna keep my man Scotty safe?" he asked.

"Yes. But to do that we have to bring him in," he answered.

"We also get something for helping out the Avengers?" Dave timidly tried to ask then.

"I won't arrest you all for being accomplices to terrorists. And for smacking my car onto a tree. How's that for a deal?" Paxton answered flatly.

Dave and Kurt winced. Luis looked down: "Last time he called me was right after you caught the archer guy and the magical chick. Asked about his daughter. If she knew anything of what had happened."

"Oh, now he cares," Paxton muttered.

Luis continued: "He told me they were holed up somewhere in Boston but they were gonna move out soon. Didn't say where."

Hope walked up to him: "We need the exact address. And you have to warn us immediately the next time he calls. Alright?"

Luis sighd in defeat: "Alright. I will. Just keep Scotty away from bombs and snipers."

"We'll do our best, Luis," Hope promised. Even though she was probably gonna make Scott wish he was killed by a bomb or a sniper when the right time came, she didn't want him dead. She wanted Scott - and her father - to pay for what they had done.

Luis nodded, defeated and miserable. But then he immediately cheered up: "Say, can I have your friend's phone number?" he said, winking to Sharon.

She looked at him like she wanted to vaporize him, again making him step back in fear.

After a few seconds, Tony broke the empasse: "Later, guys," he said, leaving the room.

Sharon and Hope followed, but Paxton stopped right in front of the door: "You still owe me a front bumper," he seethed to Dave before leaving.

As soon as they were back at the Compound, Sharon and Tony decided to hit the gym. Or rather, Sharon dragged him to the gym, saying she had to vent some repressed anger at Lang's buddy and she needed a sparring partner.

When they arrived, however, her anger was completely forgotten.

Natasha was there, beating a punching bag furiously.

It was almost scary to look at: she hadn't wrapped her hands, and her knuckles were bleeding. The bag itself was stained with blood, but she was just carrying on as if she didn't feel any pain at all. Her stance was a bit off, and her punches slightly sloppier than her usual, indicating her mind was elsewhere.

Her face was the most evident sign that something was off: she was the picture of pure rage.

"Natasha?" Sharon called. The other girl punched the bag one last time, even stronger than before, and started to leave without uttering a sound.

"Nat, what's wrong?" Sharon asked when the redhead passed her.

"Nothing. I'm fine," she growled, not looking either of them in the eye.

"You don't look fine to me," Tony interjected.

"Oh? And since when do you care!?" she snapped, turning to face him: "You made it pretty clear that you don't trust me anymore and never will again! To you I'm just some dead weight wasting space in your fancy Compound now, aren't I? So mind your own business, Stark!"

She was about to turn around again to leave, but Tony's voice stopped her: "Ah. Self deprecation. I'm pretty familiar with that... Now I know something's definitely wrong."

Again, Natasha seethed: "I said I'm fine," she insisted, "I don't need your help. I'm not some lost puppy that you have to take care of. I can deal with my problems on my own."

"And now you're pushing people away. Yup, you have a problem, alright..." Tony stated, perfectly poised.

Natasha just scowled for a moment, before snapping around towards the exit. But Tony grabbed her wrist.

"Leave me alone!" Natasha shouted, swinging her other punch at Tony. Predictably, his enhancements allowed him to catch it almost effortlessly, holding Natasha still.

"Let me go, Tony," she snarled, not trying to free herself but staring Tony down.

"Sure. After you tell us what's going on," he answered evenly.

"Let me go!" she hissed again. This time, her voice was broken, and her eyes were starting to get glassy with unshed tears.

"Nat..." called Sharon, worried.

That's when the redhead exploded: "I failed! Alright!? I completely, stupendously failed! At everything I was trying to do!"

Both Tony and Sharon were stunned. Neither of them had ever seen Natasha so off her game. So vulnerable.

They would have asked what she was talking about, but they didn't have to: "Clint, he accused me of selling his family out to Ross," she explained "and I might as well have done it: I tried to resist, but in the end that asshole got what he wanted. I failed Laura and the kids. Just like I failed the Avengers. I wanted to keep us together, and look where it landed us. Clint hates me. Rhodes is stuck in physio. Laura and the kids are homeless. I failed everyone... I hate it..."

She wasn't crying. Her voice was broken and she was trembling, but she still wasn't crying. Natasha was too strong to break down completely right in front of them.

Tony didn't let her go. He pulled her towards him, slowly hugging her. She went willingly, burying her face on his shoulder, and this was what made him the most uncomfortable. Because right then, she desperately needed to be comforted, but in that moment he didn't know what else to do, or say.

Sharon did, however: "Andrei Irtesi," she muttered, looking down.

Tony felt Natasha's head turn slightly in her direction, asking a silent question.

The blonde still didn't look up: "Romanian national, twenty-three years old. He lived in Bucharest and he owned a nice motorcycle. Which was bad, because apparently James Barnes likes motorcycles too."

Tony and Natasha had both turned towards her. Sharon shook her head in shame: "When he was running from Rogers and the police, Barnes threw him down from his bike, right under the cab that was following him. Andrei died on impact. Because the Winter Soldier wanted his bike."

She finally raised her head: "If I hadn't given Rogers our lead on Barnes, he would still be alive. Andrei Irtesi wasn't a soldier who was killed in a war, he was just a civilian who became collateral damage, because of me. He's dead because I was all starry-eyed in front of Captain America. And now, I will have to live the rest of my life knowing that it was my actions that led to his death. Knowing that he died because I allowed Rogers to put Barnes' life above his. Because I made a terrible mistake."

Natasha wasn't convinced yet: "I was trained to be the best," she muttered angrily, "in the Red Room, failure was unacceptable-"

"Failure is inevitable," Tont contradicted her, "we all fail at some point. It's impossible to never fail." He thought of Yinsen, Charlie Spencer, Wanda's parents...

"The only thing we can do is learn from those failures, and make sure they don't happen again."

Sharon hugged them both, and finally, Natasha stopped trembling.

"Come on," Sharon said to Natasha when, after a long moment, they finally broke apart, "let's take a look at your hands."

There was a sense of finality as Tony was getting ready to leave. Everything he could see around him was his, but... not. He had paid for it, of course, but it felt like he didn't belong here. Not anymore.

Ultron was dealt with, but the media fallout? Different story. Much different. Him stepping down from the Avengers was the best way - the only way - to keep the sharks away from the team. Sure, he was gonna catch hell for this whole debacle, but he could handle it. He always had. Merchant of Death, and all.

But there was no place for him here anymore.

The team had moved on. There were new members, and despite some reservation, Tony knew they would be fine. He'd make sure of it.

Starting now: "You alright?" he asked Steve.

"I'm home," the Captain replied, nodding.

That was good enough. Tony smiled, satisfied, getting into his car as Steve turned away.

Just as he was about to leave, however, he spotted the Maximoff girl running towards him: "Mr. Stark!" she called, waving a hand as if to stop him from leaving.

She was wearing her new uniform. The one he paid for, just like he was paying for everything else when it came to her. Yeah, he still wasn't entirely happy about that, but he couldn't exactly equip all the other Avengers and say no only to her... besides, maybe Cap was right. Maybe she did deserve a second chance.

He sighed, rolled the window back down and turned off the engine: "Can I help you, Maximoff?" he asked as she approached the car.

She leaned down to him but, respectfully, didn't put her hand on the roof of the car, probably to keep her hands away from him and where he could see them, to show he didn't have bad intentions: "I just wanted to have the chance to thank you before you left. I don't know when we'll see each other again and you're a busy man... so, thank you, Mr. Stark. For everything. You did so much for me. A lot more than I deserve."

Tony was surprised, and also slightly put off. He still wasn't entirely comfortable around her: "You're welcome," he replied tightly, making to leave.

But she went on: "You might think I'm just thanking you to be polite, but I really mean it," she said.

Tony again turned to her. She looked away, straightening slightly: "After losing Pietro, I felt so empty, as if my life had lost all meaning. But... you sought to my every need, you gave me a second chance... and the Avengers gave me a new purpose. A place where I can finally make some good. You don't realize it, but... you saved me, Mr. Stark. And for that, I will always be grateful."

That really left Tony speechless. He didn't expect any of that.

"So as I said... thank you," she concluded seriously. Then she smiled: "I would hug you, but that would probably be awkward..."

"Definitely awkward," Tony answered, returning her smile.

She giggled, amused: "Handshake?" she proposed, offering her hand.

"Less awkward," Tony agreed, taking her hand.

"Take care, Mr. Stark," she said, giving him a fond look, before turning away.

Tony watched her go. When he started the car again, after she had disappeared back in the Compound, he was smiling.

Wanda was completely drained and out of breath, but the sense of accomplishment she felt in that moment made her efforts entirely worth it.

It took all of her concentration to reach into Tony's dreams like that, especially with that damned collar, but earning forgiveness was always difficult. It had to be this way.

She had also been worried: for two days, she hadn't felt Tony's presence inside the Compound. He was gone, who knows where, and had only just returned today. Surely Friday wouldn't have told her, and Wanda knew better than to ask.

Why had he been gone?

She didn't want him gone. She wanted him close.

His presence was so comforting... It was the only thing that kept her going these days. Feeling Tony close to her. Knowing he had agreed to keep her with him, in his house.

If only he could actually be in the same room with her. So she could see him in person instead of just barely, faintly sensing him in the indefinite vicinity.

It would be so nice to see his face. Those big, warm, kind brown eyes. That perfectly trimmed facial hair. His tanned skin... Those perfect lips that would feel so good pressed against her own... that would feel amazing all over her body-

Wait, what?

No. No, it couldn't be!

Wanda raked her hands through her hair, pacing nervously in her cell.

She couldn't be falling for Tony! Not now! Not after everything that had happened! It was ridiculous to just think about it!

It was wrong, on so many levels! For starters, what about Vision? There was definitely something between them. She had felt it. She couldn't have been wrong.

But now he hates me...

That had really hurt. It was possibly the thing that had hurt Wanda the most, learning what Vision thought of her now.

She had lost her chance with him. She felt that too. Even if she was able to earn Tony's forgiveness, Vision's wasn't bound to follow. And even if it did, it still wouldn't mean they could rekindle.

Vision was lost to her, and she had to accept it. It was difficult, but she had to.

But that still didn't make it right to fall for Tony Stark, of all people! What was she thinking?

The answer was simple: she wasn't thinking.

Love was not a rational feeling. It was possibly the most irrational feeling of them all. So was it really her fault if she was falling for Tony?

She shook her head, trying to avoid that train of thought. No, she couldn't go down that road. She was trying to do right by Tony. And Tony was happy with the life he had now. A good life.

He had a family. A girlfriend and a daughter. His relationship with Pepper Potts hadn't been the smoothest romance in the world, but now they had ironed out all their issues. They were happy together.

And what about Friday? She was their daughter! And Wanda should know better than to mess up someone's parents. Look what she'd done when she lost hers! Friday already didn't like her in the first place, and she would terminate her with a smile on her face if she ever found out Wanda was even thinking that!

Besides... it just wasn't right. Two weeks ago, she wanted to gut Tony. She now knew that it was misplaced hatred, but how was it even possible to do such a one-eighty? How was it possible that now...

God, what is wrong with me!?

What would Pietro think? What would her parents think? Tony Stark was-

Tony Stark never had anything to do with what happened to my family. Nothing!

She winced at the harsh reminder from her traitorous conscience. But it was still wrong. What she was feeling... it was wrong. Wrong!

Friday's words caught up to her once again: revolting, messed up freak.

But... was it really her fault this time? Should she really try to squash what she was feeling? If love was irrational, it wasn't her fault. Should she really apologize for it? Was it even right to ask that of her?

Why did this have to happen to her? Why now? Why was her life like this?

...God, what am I going to do?

"Oh, yes! Now we're talking!"

Scott looked like a child in front of a basket full of toys, as he followed the rest of his team into Edwards and Sutherland's base, wandering around with his eyes and staring at the state of the art equipment stored in the hangar-like structure. Among other things, there were also a Quinjet just like the one Clint had commandeered for them when they'd gotten back in the States and not one, but two Black Hawk helicopters.

Steve shared his excitement. Now they had transportation again, and from the looks of things, these guys were also organized well enough to have decent intelligence too.

"So you actually brought them here," a new voice spoke. Steve looked away from the aircrafts at two new people who had made their entrance in the hangar. The nondescript man who had just spoken was looking at Edwards and Sutherland in a somewhat disapproving manner. Behind him, a woman with salt and pepper hair tied in a ponytail was looking at Steve and his team with the same disapproving gaze.

Edwards sighed, looking back at Steve: "These are our colleagues: Oliver Caldwell and Bridget Leary," he said, before turning to his friends: "You... well, you know their names," he shrugged, pointing behind him at Steve's team.

Just like Edwards and Sutherland, Caldwell and Leary looked like two average, boring office clerks. No one, meeting them on the street, would look their way twice. Steve supposed it was a good thing, when you're living a life undercover.

Bucky was nervous as Leary and Caldwell gave the ragtag group a cursory glance. Maybe he had just imagined it, but he thought Caldwell had actually stared at him a moment longer than anyone else...

Steve's voice brought him out of his paranoia: "Mr. Edwards and Mr. Sutherland said you are willing to help us," he said.

Leary scoffed: "Not like we have much of a choice now that you're here, do we?" she gritted out.

There was contempt in her voice. Steve had smelled the challenge, and as usual, he wasn't going to back down: "Ma'am, if you have a problem, I'll be happy to-"

"You ruined our lives, Rogers. And in case you don't know, we're the lucky ones. Others were killed or had their families targeted because you pulled an Assange on their asses."

Steve winced: "I'm sorry about that. But we had no choice, it was the only way to expose Hydra..."

Caldwell looked at him dispassionately: "Yeah, yeah. The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants, sure. Problem is, Former Captain, when Thomas Jefferson said that he didn't get to choose which patriots had to give their blood. And Jefferson's patriots knew exactly what they had signed up for. You? You just gave a nice speech about the price of freedom, and then fucked everyone over!"

Steve was getting frustrated: "Look, I really don't think that's fair. You don't know all the details. Hydra was literally seconds away from getting the means to rule over the entire world! I am sorry, I am truly sorry for those who didn't make it, but we were on the brink of a war, do you understand that? It was just impossible to-"

"Stop, Rogers. Just cut it out," Leary interrupted, "We're gonna work with you. Doesn't mean we have to like you. Not everyone buys into your 'God's righteous man' vibe, especially after you ended their life as they knew it! We're not friends, just situational allies. Either deal with it, or fuck off."

Steve looked ready for a nasty retort, but Hank grabbed his arm. Steve decided to let it go and nodded to him, turning back to Leary: "We won't let you down," he promised. Bucky almost found himself waiting for Steve to add the word 'again' to his reply.

Instead, it was Hank who spoke next: "You've got some nice hardware here, guys. But we're gonna need intelligence as well. And start planning how to take down Stark and his team-"

Sutherland interrupted him: "What? Take down Stark? Take down the Avengers? Are you drunk or something?"

All of Hank's ex colleagues were looking at him as if he had grown another head. Before Hank could reply, Edwards spoke next: "So far we've only managed to carry on by keeping a low profile. We only gathered information and sold them to the highest bidder, and we've had to learn to be extremely cautious. Now you want us to go back to being a full on paramilitary squad. Fine, we will. But we'll still keep the low profile. We are not sponsoring your personal vendetta against the Starks, Hank."

The vein on Hank's forehead was starting to bulge, but Leary backed her colleagues up: "They're right. We're not pitting ourselves against Iron Man, the Avengers or the United Nations. In fact, we're gonna do quite the opposite of that: if a mission comes up for your team, the first thing we're gonna do is try to find out if the Avengers are on it too. Hack the local police forces, news stations and social media, and so on. Because if the Avengers are there, for us it's a no go."

"But we can't work like that! If we have to check for the Avengers every time something comes up, we'll never be able to truly make a difference! It will take ages to clear our names!" Scott protested.

"Maybe. But if we don't do that and you get your asses kicked by the Avengers and thrown in jail, it's gonna take even longer than that, don't you think?" Edwards rebuffed him, looking him down.

Hank was fuming, but he didn't reply. Even he could see that his ex-colleagues were talking sense. They had to clear their names, but they couldn't do it overnight. They had to start small and work their way up. Given time, the world would understand how rotten Stark was, and that they had chased the real heroes into hiding.

He would have his chance to discredit Stark. But he had to wait.

Steve was not very happy with this new course of action. He had fought the Accords in fear of being too caught in paperwork and dirty politics to be able to truly help the people, and now he had to waste time and resources at every mission to make sure Tony wouldn't get in the way of his work.

However, if he was honest with himself, he really wasn't looking forward to a third round against Iron Man. If these guys could really hack the local law enforcement and media to gather info about whether the Avengers were gonna be there or not, he was really glad for the chance to avoid the confrontation.

We'll be able to know when and where Tony and the Avengers are deployed and steer clear of them... Good. one less thing to worry about.

As Steve and Hank were going over other details with Leary, Edwards and Sutherland, Bucky caught Caldwell again staring at him.

He looked pretty angry. Maybe Bucky had killed some of his friends at the Triskelion when SHIELD had fallen? Maybe even injured Caldwell himself? He didn't know. But he could ask:

"Something wrong?" he questioned.

Caldwell scoffed: "A lot of things, actually."

Bucky didn't have time to reply before Caldwell joined the conversation his colleagues were having with Steve.

Laura was snuggled on a couch and hugging a pillow with both arms, looking dispassionately at the television. She seemed absent, as if she wasn't even paying attention to what was being broadcasted.

Instead, she was probably paying more attention than she should have if she wanted to preserve her health.

On TV was her now ex-husband, scowling like a baddie from an action movie after being arrested. Fitting, she thought.

Happy found her glaring daggers at the TV. As he sat down at her side, Barton was shown being dragged away by two armed men with a black uniform.

"What are you looking at!?" he barked at the various cameras recording him, "I hope you're happy, you ungrateful bastards! The Avengers saved all of you, countless times! Nice way of saying thank you-"

Barton yapped a bit more, often having his voice beeped and his mouth blurred to censor the various obscenities he was spewing, until he was finally manhandled inside a ginormous armored truck that would have made a Humvee wet itself in fear.

After that rather pitiful show, the shot changed to that of the WHiH Newsfront studio. Happy immediately recognized the blonde girl on the left as Christine Everhart without even looking at her name on the bottom left of the screen. The other host, whose name was written on the right side, was called Will Adams.

"And so, this chapter of the Avengers Civil War finally comes to an end," Everhart spoke, looking all professional, "Former Avenger and SHIELD agent Clinton Francis Barton, codename Hawkeye, has been sentenced to serve twenty-two years at the Raft prison facility, without the possibility of early parole. Will," she called, turning to face her co-host, "you expressed many doubts about the Sokovia Accords when they were first proposed. Back then, your opinion aligned with that of the so called 'Team Cap'. What are your thoughts on Barton's sentence?"

The camera zoomed in on the other anchorman. Adams shook his head and sighed: "Well, Christine, I really don't know what to say. You're right, I had many reservations about the Sokovia Accords at first. I thought they would render the Avengers ineffective. Yet the Avengers - the real Avengers, those who signed the Accords - have already proven me wrong by saving Barton's family and then by capturing Barton himself, along with the Scarlet Witch..."

"So, have you changed your mind?" asked Christine.

"Part of me still wants to think that 'Team Cap', as they are now called, is the one in the right," Adams answered, "I mean... It's Cap! First ever superhero, World War Two veteran, fought Hydra, fought aliens, saved the world... So yes, emotionally I would love to believe that he's right, and that they made Barton's sentence an example, and so on. But if I chose to believe that, then I would have to believe that the whole system is corrupt. That the United Nations, along with the governments of the one hundred and twenty-six nations that as of today have signed the Sokovia Accords, are just useless if not flat out evil. And, rationally, I know that's simply impossible. Then we also have to consider how Team Cap opposes the Accords: the events of Bucharest and Leipzig simply shouldn't have happened. Not to mention, the news of Barton and Maximoff's capture was delivered by Hope Van Dyne in a press statement that honest to God gave me the chills: she said Team Cap basically tried to kill her, that Barton took a policeman hostage-"

Happy switched the TV off: "You shouldn't watch that. You've already been through enough of this shit," he said.

"He's right though," Laura replied, "Clint took a man hostage. He threatened to kill an innocent man. A police officer."

"You alright?" Happy asked.

Laura sighed: "Yes. Yeah, I'm alright... It's actually nice, knowing he's finally going to jail for good. It feels like I can move on, at last. It's just... it's sort of disconcerting to see for the first time after all these years what kind of man he really is, you know? Seeing his true colors only now..."

"Maybe he thought he was just following Rogers' orders and that was good enough for him," Happy answered diplomatically.

Laura scoffed: "Yeah, well, I'm done giving him the benefit of the doubt. During his testimony he started laying into Nat, said he should have just, and I quote: 'taken her out like any other target', which of course prompted the prosecutor to ask how many 'targets' he's taken out in the past. They had him squirming in his seat in less than a minute, the moron. Then he had the nerve to blame Tony for throwing him in the Raft without a lawyer or a fair trial. They asked him if he knew what preventive detention is, and you know what he said? 'Whatever'. That's it, just 'whatever'. Makes me wonder what the hell I was thinking when I fell for him... It really makes no sense to me now."

"And it probably never will. You loved him, and maybe he was a different man back then, or maybe you just loved him too much to see him for what he truly was, it doesn't matter. And it's all the more reason not to watch that shit," Happy smiled, "You've given him enough already. Now it's time to stop thinking about him and start putting yourself first, don't you think?"

Laura looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time.

This man was deceiving. Underneath his goofy exterior was an incredibly profound person.

She just gave him a smile to make him understand he got his point across.

"How are the kids?" Happy asked then.

Laura shrugged: "Coping. Nate has the luck of not even knowing what's going on, and Lila's just trying to avoid even thinking about this whole mess. Clint was never there much to begin with, and somehow that helps her, I guess. Coop, though... he's angry. His father was his hero. He was all over the place when he found out Clint was an Avenger. Now, the bastard has literally broken his heart..."

She was scowling now. Again glaring at the TV, even though it was now turned off.

Happy narrowed his eyes for a moment, deep in thought: "You know," he finally said, "a few years ago Tony met this kid from Tennessee, his name's Harley Keener. He's about Cooper's age, and... well, he's pretty much in the exact same situation. His father left one day and never came back, the kid's mother raised him and his little sister alone ever since..."

Laura perked up: "Really?"

"Yeah," Happy answered, a bit absently.

"Why are you telling me this?" Laura wanted to know.

"Well, I only met him once in a video call, but he seems like a nice kid. Besides, I trust Tony's judgement. What I'm saying is... would you like to go on vacation in Rose Hill, Tennessee? I can ask Tony to-"

Laura encircled Happy in a bear hug, overwhelmed: "Thank you, Happy. You're almost too good to be real," she whispered, her voice slightly broken.

He smiled: "Don't mention it. I like to help."

Laura smiled: "Are you sure I can take a vacation right now? I mean, I've only just been hired."

"Eh, Tony and Pepper will get it," Happy replied, waving his hand dismissively, "Besides, technically I'm the head of security and that's where you work, so I'm your immediate superior..."

"Well, in that case thank you again," Laura smiled again, "But you're coming too, right? On vacation with me, I mean."

"Well, if you want me to, I have a couple of weks of unused vacation time..."

"Yes. I want you to, Boss"

"Then it's a deal. But don't call me Boss, we're on vacation."

They both laughed as they got up from the couch and left the room.

Hope was absolutely spent. She wondered how Tony made it look so easy, running R&D at Stark Industries, being Iron Man and liaisoning with the Accords Committee. It was so difficult for her, trying to contain the damage her father had caused while also working as an Avenger.

Yet that wasn't the real problem. The real problem was that she was hunting down her own father.

After her press conference, Tony had said she could take some time off if she felt she needed it, but she had refused. Partly because she wanted to be there if they found Hank, but mostly because, after having gone behind his back, she had felt the need to prove herself to Stark.

And to shut Rhodes up, of course.

There were moments, though, when she felt it was all too much. Like now, for example. She was sitting in her room, staring blankly ahead and struggling to find a reason to ever get up again.

"Do you require anything, Miss Van Dyne?"

Friday's voice coming through the speakers made her jump. She often forgot the girl had a hive mind: "I'm fine, Friday. Why do you ask?"

"Your behavioural patterns indicate strong distress. I wanted to make sure you were alright. Prior to the Civil War and in the first months after it, Boss used to be in distress a lot, and his distress often led him to destructive behaviours... It wasn't pleasant." Friday answered.

Hope was slightly stunned, but she apprecieated the concern: "I'm fine, Friday. Just a bit stressed by the recent events," she assured.

"Perhaps you need a distraction," Friday mused, "Can I come in?"

Before Hope could answer, someone knocked at her door. When she went to open it, Friday was there, smiling: "Was that weird?" she asked.

Hope shook her head sligltly in denial, and also to get rid of the mild confusion at Friday's ubiquity: "No. Well, maybe a bit, but I'll get used to it. What's up, Friday?"

"Well, I've had an idea," the young redhead started, "I went over the telemetry from Boss' suit during the skirmish in San Francisco and I saw that he carried you to Barton's quinjet inside his shoulder launcher...", she told her, indicating vaguely at her own shoulder.

"He did," Hope confirmed, "We improvised a bit, but it worked. What about it?" she asked, retreating inside the room and motioning to Friday to follow her.

"You see, you and I are now part of a very exclusive club who have been inside an Iron Man armour," Friday said, sitting on a chair across from Hope, "and as you said, you were successful in apprehending Barton and Maximoff..."

Hope narrowed her eyes, smirking slightly: "I think I know what you're trying to say, but go on..." Friday matched her smirk: "That was quite an impressive move from you and Boss. Not too complex, but it showed good teamwork and it was clearly very effective. So, I was just wondering, since I'm currently working on my second armour... maybe you and I could refine that move a little? Take off some of the improvisation and play a bit more on the element of surprise? Only if you're interested, of course..."

Hope raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing slightly: "Well, you might have a point. Maybe I do need a distraction."

They left the room, smiling at each other and heading for the armory.

Tony's repulsor had knocked Steve against the wall of the bunker, leaving Bucky to fend for himself in the fight against Iron Man's madness.

Steve was scared. His worst fear was materializing before his very eyes.

He knew Tony was not going to be reasonable. He knew he was going to react in such an immature way and put the blame on the wrong person. He knew it, dammit! That's why he'd never told Tony! He wouldn't have been able to handle it!

He got to his hands and knees, trying to get up, trying to get back in the fray and help Bucky. But maybe, just maybe, Bucky wouldn't need it.

He had cornered Tony against the wall. Tony was trying to fight him off, but Bucky's shiny metal hand was already on the suit's reactor.

Come on, Bucky, you can do this!

It could have ended there. Bucky would have disabled the suit and Tony would have been incapacitated without being harmed. But of course, Tony was too stubborn to back down when he was losing.

In the exact moment Tony shot Bucky's arm into smithereens, Steve saw red.

Gone was the man that the world knew, that Captain America's stories depicted. Only the darkest part of Steve Rogers was left. The part who would not fight for the little guy, but who would put his own needs, his instincts, first.

So Steve got up from the ground and attacked. For him, and for Bucky.

He hurt bucky! He's gonna pay!

For a moment, Steve had feared the worst. Tony had gotten the upper hand. But, even as beaten up as he was, Bucky always had his back.

He provided enough of a distraction for Steve to sneak attack Tony from behind. And he sure as hell wasn't gonna delve in fairplay-related second thoughts when Tony had just been callous and cruel enough to sever Bucky's arm again.

He bodily threw Tony against the floor and started punching his face in, but that goddamn armor was too resilient.

Never mind. He would have liked the satisfaction of punching the mask off Tony's face with his bare hands, but he was gonna take what he could get. So he just took the shield and, after only a couple of well aimed strikes, the helmet gave.

Steve ripped it off, and readied himself for the final blow.

He relished the fear in Tony's eyes, but fear was not the only thing he saw.

There was rage. Furious, untamed rage. And betrayal.

Tony felt betrayed. Maybe that was what stopped Steve from killing him.

Perhaps, in the back of his mind, Steve felt the need to prove to Tony that he was better than him. That he would spare him even though he could have killed him.

He resettled, and brought his shield down on the arc reactor instead of Tony's throat. He just killed the suit instead of killing Tony.

Maybe Tony was going to learn something from this. In the end, Tony was a good man. He was just incapable of handling his emotions.

Tony's taunts grated on him harshly as he pulled Bucky to his feet, but Steve was not going to bother with him anymore.

He didn't care about the shield. He finally had Bucky back and Tony could do no more harm. Nothing else mattered.

He let the shield drop. It was going to be fine.

But they had only taken a few steps when the impossible happened.

Steve heard the noises more than actually seeing it happen: a repulsor charged up with its typical whine, and then a blast of pure light shot right out of Bucky's chest.

Bucky's entire body seized and he made a strangled, gurgling noise.

Both terrified, the two super soldiers looked at each other.

Blood started spilling out of Bucky's mouth as his body slumped against Steve's, before he fell to the ground, an enormous, gaping hole going all the way through his chest where his heart should be.

Steve screamed. The pain he felt in that moment was matched only by his rage. He was gonna murder Stark. But when he turned towards Iron Man to do just that, he stopped dead in his track.

In front of him, in the helmetless suit with the crushed reactor and chest plate and with his face beaten, bloody and contorted by murderous fury, was not Tony.

It was Howard.

"You..." he seethed, with so much venom in his voice that Steve took a step back in fear.

"You dared to use that shield to hurt my son!?" Howard growled.

Steve blabbed something incoherent, trying to come up with the appropriate words to justify himself, to make Howard understand, but he didn't get the chance. Howard backhanded him so hard that Steve lost balance and fell to the ground.

"Do you like it, Steve!?" Howard inquired.

Steve didn't even try to get up. He just turned around so he could face his enraged friend: "Howard-"

"Do you like it!?" Howard repeated, slamming his armored boot on Steve's face, breaking his nose, "Do you like being beaten to near death by someone you considered a friend!?" he asked, viciously kicking Steve in the chest.

Steve couldn't even bring his arms up to try and protect himself: "Howard, please-" he pleaded desperately, crying pathetically. But his old friend was having none of it.

"Answer, Steve!" Howard yelled, slamming his foot down on Steve's chest hard enough to punch all the air out of the supersoldier: "Do you enjoy it? Your bones cracking..." he said, stomping down on Steve again, "...your flesh bruising..." he continued, again kicking the soldier, "...your ribs breaking, punturing your lungs, drowning you in your own blood!"

He continued kicking Steve with abandon. One after the other, several of Steve's ribs did indeed break under Howard's hits, but the supersoldier couldn't do anything other than wail uselessly and curl into a ball in utter fear, cowardly trying to inspire mercy by showing submission.

Howard finally stopped kicking him, and kneeled next to him: "But that isn't even the best part, is it, Steve?" he seethed, grabbing Steve's collar and hoisting him up. He then proceeded to viciously punch Steve so hard that the back of his head hit the concrete floor again.

"No, the best part is the betrayal! Seeing that the man who you're fighting is someone you thought was your friend!" Howard yelled, again punching Steve in the face.

Steve couldn't fight back. He just couldn't. He closed his eyes and cried, waiting for Howard to deliver the final blow. But Howard never did.

"Look at you. You have such a high opinion of yourself. You think you're so much better than my son, don't you? Instead you're just a pathetic, small, worthless human being, Rogers. And most importantly, you are irrelevant."

Steve gathered the courage to look Howard in the eyes, too confused to ask any question.

Tony's father continued: "You clung so desperately to the past that you could never be bothered to find your place in the present. You kissed Peggy's niece only so you could have a part of your 'best girl' back. You resented Tony for being his own person and not my exact image. And you fought the entire world and even killed innocent people to protect a man who is your precious Bucky only in your memories..."

Saying this, Howard grabbed Steve by the hair and forced him to watch over where Bucky's dead body was lying a few feet away.

"Look at him," Howard ordered, "that man is dead! James Barnes is dead! Bucky is dead, and he will never come back! He has been the Winter Soldier for more than seventy years by now! He will never, ever, go back to being Bucky from Brooklyn, Steve. But you clung to him so desperately, that you sacrificed everyone else for him..."

Steve's eyes bulged at Howard's words. Tony's father loosened the grip on his hair and let him go, standing up and looking down at him.

"You have made your choice, Steve. This is where that road ends. You're injured too badly; you're not gonna be able to get out of this bunker on your own."

Steve was still crying, but now he was also trembling, both in fear and because of the cold Siberian air that was starting to seep into the room. Howard leaned down slightly:

"Tony was rescued in the end, because he has friends. Real friends. You? You don't have real friends, you only have ass-kissers. And anyway, all of them are in jail now, because of you. The others? You never considered them friends. The irony, Tony was probably the only one who actually thought of you as a friend, but you burned that bridge to the ground..."

Steve let out a strained noise, trying to lift a hand towards Howard, in denial of what he had just said, but also in a plea of help. But Howard had turned his back on him and was already walking away: "There's no one left. Only you and the ice, all over again. But this time the ice won't save you, Steve."

Howard had reached the entrance of the bunker when he stopped and turned around one last time: "It will end you."

Steve was startled awake by Sam shaking him. He jolted up in a sitting position, breathing heavily.

"You okay, man? It sounded like a pretty bad nightmare..." asked Sam. Steve only nodded and took a deep breath, letting himself fall back on the mattress. Sam just gave him another, slightly worried look before pursing his lips and returning to his bunk.

Steve watched him go: It's not true what Howard said, he thought, I do have real friends that have my back. I don't need Tony! I don't need his forgiveness!

I don't!

Clint was running up the stairs, a terrible feeling gnawing at his stomach, so much so that he thought he might be sick and vomit right then and there.

Every second seemed to stretch into eternity. He tried running even faster, desperate to make it in time. When he got to the top of the stairs, he was worried it was already too late.

He sprinted to his bedroom and yanked the door open. His heart skipped a beat as his fear was confirmed.

Stark was there, in his bed, lying right next to Laura. Both were looking at him as if they were expecting him to walk in on them, and didn't care in the least.

"Well well. Look who showed up," Laura sneered with contempt.

Clint's brain was overloading. There were too many emotions at once: rage, desperation, confusion, sadness, embarrassment... he was simply too overwhelmed to even move a finger.

He only managed to register that, while they were lying in bed side by side with a blanket up to their waists, they didn't seem to have done anything more... yet: Laura was still wearing a bra and Stark a tank top. Oddly - or maybe not - he didn't feel relieved in the slightest. It was almost as if they were waiting for him to catch them.

"No, birdbrain, we weren't waiting for you," Stark scoffed condescendingly, shaking his head.

That reeled Clint up even more: What- can he read my mind too!? I know he's somehow enhanced now, but-

"We were waiting for someone else..." continued Tony.

Clint didn't understand a single thing of what was going on: Someone else? Who-

"Are you going to stand there like an idiot for much longer?"

The voice coming from behind him made him jump. As he turned around, the hair on the back of his neck had shot up.

Natasha was there. On her face was an irritated frown that he knew usually meant 'Black Widow is pissed, and someone is about to get hurt'.

"So? You gonna get out of my way or what? You're standing right in the doorway! I don't want Tony and Laura to start without me!" she exclaimed, her frown rapidly turning into a full-on angry face. That was when he took a better look at her... and he immediately wished he hadn't.

She was wearing black and red lingerie underwear, and nothing else. It didn't take a genius to understand what she was doing dressed like that, in his bedroom, with Laura and Tony.

He was still too out of it to take action, but Natasha took matters into her own hands. She rolled her eyes at him, and then swiftly punched him straight in the throat.

He dropped like a sack of potatoes. Natasha stepped over him and walked towards the bed: "Good. Now that this asshole is dealt with, we can finally have some fun..." she said in a husky voice, crawling onto the bed and lying down between Laura and Tony.

He could hear giggles, moans and heavy breaths from the bed as he convulsed on the floor. As he finally got up on all fours and gazed upon the three, the sight made him want to cry, and scream, and kill. But he was too devastated to do any of those things.

Natasha was now kissing Tony, Laura lightly biting her shoulder. Eventually, the redhead was the first to notice him: "Oh, don't look at me like I've just broken your poor little heart! After all, I'm just taking your advice: you asked me if I convinced Tony to lower my sentence in exchange for some... special services, didn't you? Pretty sure it was meant as an insult, but it's actually not a bad idea. So... Thank you, Clint."

Laura laughed out loud at this: "Yes, thank you, Clint. Bringing Nat in to play with us really spiced things up for me and Tony," she said before narrowing her eyes: "I bet you mulled a lot over the idea of involving her while you and I were still together, didn't you?"

"Hah, poor Barton... I convinced them both pretty easily, you know?" laughed Stark, as the first tears started to fall from Clint's eyes, "Then again, I've always been persuasive with women," he added while taking Natasha's bra off, while she turned around to kiss Laura.

All three of them laughed as Natasha's bra was thrown on Clint's face.

He woke up abruptly and found himself in his new cell, alone. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and it took him a moment to remember that he was in the Raft. That this was his new bed, and that it was gonna be his bed for the next twenty-two years.

"Goddammit," he whispered to himself. It was just a dream, but he felt like crying anyway.

Tony was exhasperated.

Seriously, he was doing everything in his power to take care of the team and protect it, and then one day, Rogers up and decides 'You know what, let's ruin Tony's existence by engaging wayward Hydra terrorists in an all-out fight in the middle of a crowded market in Nigeria! Come on, it'll be fun!'

It had been a disaster. Thirty-eight dead, among which eleven Wakandans. Nigeria was out for blood, the Wakandan king, T'Chaka, was understandably blowing a gasket, and now motherfucking Ross was breathing down their necks. He felt like a parent being called by the headmaster because his kids had misbehaved at school.

Everyone was gathering at the conference room. Ross was gonna be there soon, but Wanda was still missing.

For the first time ever, Tony actually felt bad for the Sokovian girl: yes, she had fucked up (again), but really, that was on Rogers for getting her out on the field without proper training. Plus, he wouldn't want to have to deal with Ross even in normal circumstances, and Wanda's situation right now was anything but normal.

But she really couldn't skip this meeting. Lagos had been a glaring example of how far from perfect the Avengers were. And nobody wanted to hear justifications, what they wanted was an admission of guilt and responsibility. Wanda had to be there and at least show good will, after such a monumental tragedy. She had to face this.

He went to her room to talk to her and convince her to come to the meeting, but when he got there, the sight took him aback.

The door was open, and the TV was on. They were talking about Nigeria. Wanda was on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and watching the TV with tears rolling down her eyes.

Tony was unsure of what to do. He had never seen her like this.

He turned the TV off as she hid her face against her knees: "It's my fault," she sobbed.

Tony pursed his lips as he sat down on the side of the bed. He didn't know what to say.

Wanda continued: "I wanted to do better... to be a hero... and instead I..."

She didn't finish. She shook her head and curled even more on herself, shaking with sobs.

In that moment, Tony really felt pity for her. Him and Wanda had come to some sort of an understanding when Ultron had been dealt with, but he had never actually thought he would ever find himself in a similar situation.

But now, Wanda needed him. She was beating herself over what had happened. She was lost. She was desperate. And she had been left alone.

He knew how devastating it was to feel abandoned. She needed his help.

He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her against his side.

She nuzzled against him and slowly, her sobs receded. But her thoughts didn't: "It's my fault," she repeated in a small voice.

Tony pulled her even closer and hugged her: "You made a mistake, Wanda. A terrible one. That's undeniable and you can't change it. The only thing you can do is deal with it..."

The girl looked up at him with sad, hopeful eyes: "How?" she asked, "How can I possibly fix this?"

"You can't," Tony interrupted her, "innocent people died, there's no fixing this. But you can make sure it doesn't happen again."

Wanda looked up at him with wide, teary eyes. Tony caressed her cheek: "I built my first ever armor to escape captivity in Afghanistan, but you know why I really became Iron Man?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I became Iron Man to hunt down and destroy all those weapons built by my company that had been sold under the table to terrorists and criminals. I did it because I had made a mistake, one that I couldn't recton. So all I could do was stop that mistake from having more consequences."

Wanda nodded twice, lowering her gaze, and then hid her face against Tony's chest: "I want to do that too," she said meekly, "I need to... I need more control over my powers, and... more focus on what happens around me in a fight..."

"We'll talk to Steve about that," Tony promised, kissing her forehead and holding her tight, "Dry your tears, Wanda. I don't think any less of you."

She smiled sadly at him: "Thank you, Tony."

Tony twitched slightly, but didn't wake up. In her cell, Wanda collapsed on her bed, utterly exhausted, hoping she hadn't taken it too far this time. She wanted Tony to warm up to her, for sure. But after that?

Part of her wanted more. Another part screamed it was wrong.

She was still trying to figure out what to do about her feelings for Tony when the exhaustion finally took over and she fell asleep.

She had lost everything.

She had trusted Steve. She had chosen him over Tony. And now, everyone had abandoned her.

She didn't even know if the authorities knew where she was detained, and if they did, they probably approved.

It's an involuntary reaction in their amygdala. They can't help but be afraid of you.

She was as good as dead. Ross was going to experiment on her, turn her into a guinea pig, dissect her and then throw her remains in the trash when he was done. No one was gonna come to save her.

She had screamed and cried agonizingly, until her throat felt like it had been thoroughly scraped with sandpaper. Yet her screams and cries went completely unanswered.

After that, she had become completely apathetic. Catatonic, even. It felt like nothing could ever shake her from her passive state ever again.

She started hearing undefined noises, but didn't pay them any attention. For a moment, she wondered if they were real or if she was just imagining them.

But then, he appeared.

He came to stand in front of her cell, enveloped in his shining red armor. She was almost scared of believing it was real: she wouldn't have handled it if she found this was just another product of her imagination.

But then, his armor opened, and Tony stepped out just as the door of her cell slid up into the ceiling. He took her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks and looking at her with worried eyes, and she realized she wasn't imagining it.

He's here... He's really here... For me...

He made quick work of that blasted collar around her neck, and started undoing her straitjacket. Wanda was overwhelmed: it felt like she had just resurfaced after being underwater for too long. She was finally able to breathe again.

"T...Tony..." she stuttered, as he finally started sliding the straitjacket off her shoulders.

She felt tears running down her eyes. But this time, they were tears if joy.

"I'm so sorry, Wanda... I never thought it would end like this..." said Tony finally taking the straitjacket off. As soon as her arms were free, she hugged him and buried her face against his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Ssshh... It's okay now. Nobody's gonna hurt you again," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, "Let's go home."

He picked her up bridal style and carried her out and away from that disgusting cell. Now they were in her room, at the Compound.

The sun was shining through the windows, bathing the entire room in an ethereal light. Never before had Wanda focused on how calming an environment it was. She was home.

Tony gently deposited her on her bed and made to stand up. Immediately, Wanda grabbed his arm with both hands: "Wait! Don't go! Please..." she pleaded.

Tony immediately sat on the edge of the bed, smiling reassuringly: "I'm not going anywhere, Wanda. I promise," he said, caressing her cheek again.

Wanda felt like her heart was going to explode with happiness. She took Tony's hand in her own, turning slightly and kissing his palm.

Tony looked at her with such intensity that she felt a chill run down her spine, but not a bad one. It was as if he was really seeing her for the first time. He didn't protest when Wanda slowly moved his hand on her right breast.

"Tony..." she whispered.

He repositioned, never breaking eye contact. He laid down on the bed right next to her, his face moving agonizingly closer to hers.

When they finally kissed, Wanda felt like all her nerve endings had caught fire. She timidly raked one hand through his hair, pulling him closer. Tony went willingly, deepening the kiss.

She had never felt so alive.

When they broke apart for air, Tony was already undoing the buttons of her camisole. He stopped, looking at her as if asking for permission.

She nodded vehemently. I need you... Please...

He took his time with the remaining three buttons, as if to tease her. When he finally pried the garment open, he looked at her exposed breasts almost with adoration: "You're so beautiful, Wanda..." he hissed huskily, bending down and taking one of her nipples in his mouth, caressing her other breast with his hand.

Wanda moaned as he continued placing open mouthed kisses all over her body, moving lower and lower. It took him just a gentle tug at the hem of her pajama pants for her to lift herself up so he could pull them down.

"Let me take care of you, Wanda..." he whispered, kissing her navel and moving lower again.

It felt like a dream...

It was a dream.

Wanda's eyes opened to the sight of the dull, familiar gray walls of her cell. She looked around and Tony was gone. No, he wasn't just gone - he had never been there.

She looked down at herself: she had kicked the blankets down at the foot of the bed, her pants were halfway down to her knees and she had a hand between her legs.

Steve sighed in defeat and braced himself as he walked out of the old Quinjet. A lot of yelling was about to happen.

In fact he wasn't even out of the jet as Liam Edwards stalked up to him and grabbed him by his uniform: "Are you clinically insane!?" he yelled. Inside the Quinjet, Bucky had to fight back the knee-jerk instinct of attacking Edwards when he saw him assault Steve like that. Both Sam and Scott gave him a worried look.

Steve winced: "Look, it was an accident. It wasn't supposed to happen-"

"Oh, no! You did not just tell me that it wasn't supposed to happen!" Edwards roared.

Hank and Sutherland appeared behind him: "Liam, let him go!" Hank demanded.

"Fuck you, Pym!" the incensed ex-SHIELD agent retorted harshly, "It was a mission so simple we could have done it ourselves! Instead, these knuckleheads caused a worldwide disaster!"

"Well, come on, that's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" Scott tried to imput, "It was just a small freighter..."

Edwards looked at him with such disbelief, desolation and disgust that Scott actually took a step back.

"Just a small freighter?" Edwards asked, barely containing himself, "Just a small freighter!? Are you kidding me?" he hissed again.

"Technically he's right," Hank interceded, while Caldwell and Leary joined them silently, with a grave expression on their faces, "the Yasoshima Maru was just thirty-four thousand tons-"

Bridget Leary laughed, almost hysterically: "Oh, great, Hank. If you put it that way I'm sure the authorities will be appeased!" she scoffed, "Your circus freaks have just sunk a ship right in the middle of the fucking Panama Canal, but hey, it's just a thirty-four thousand ton freighter, no biggie! I'm seriously worried about you! Have you been spending too much time around these idiots or is it just old age taking over?"

Hank wasn't gonna take this. He raised his hand and pulled it back to strike the woman across her face, but Sutherland caught his wrist and jerked him away from his colleague, making him lose balance and fall on his rear. Scott stalked forward, ready to defend his mentor, but Edwards let Steve go and came up to Scott, shoving him backwards: "You better sit down, Lang!" he hissed.

Caldwell was the one who stopped the situation from escalating: "Calm down! All of you!" he yelled, getting between Hank and Leary and holding a hand up to each of them.

Steve was quick to back him up: "Agent Caldwell is right. Getting angry won't solve the situation-"

"Rogers, please shut your mouth!" Caldwell cut him off, "Just because I told them to calm down it doesn't mean I'm justifying your fuck-up! And kissing my ass won't make me take your side!"

Steve looked at him with confusion: "We are all on the same side here-"

It was again Edwards who interrupted him this time: "Yeah, that's what scares me. You fuckers only had to intercept a fucking weapons shipment!"

"We did! And we even managed to avoid casualties," Scott again interjected, "Nobody got hurt, and now those weapons will never reach Venezuela! Hell, we even captured the entire crew and dropped them to the authorities!"

"Yeah, sure. Great job, Lang," Edwards interrupted him again, "You just had to stop a goddamn black market weapon dealer! Normal cops all around the world do that all the time! You 'enhanced individuals' should be able to do it better than normal cops, right!? So how is it that you couldn't do it without nearly blocking the most important maritime route in the world!?" he yelled, so harshly that this time, Scott nearly burst out crying like a spoiled kid being chastised.

"Listen-" Steve tried, but Edwards wasn't done yet: "Can you even begin to comprehend the magnitude of the mess you caused!?" he asked.

When Steve just looked at him like a deer caught in headlights, Edwards continued: "Mercifully, the Yasoshima Maru sank in a point where it doesn't block most of the traffic inside the Canal, but the wreck is still too much of a hazard for some of the bigger ships. So the Canal won't be back to full capacity until the ship that you sunk is refloated and towed out of the way. Ships that are too big to sail around the wreckage safely enough will have to be diverted either through the Suez Canal, the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, or all the way around South America! Do you know how many ships transit the Panama Canal every day, Rogers!? Can you even imagine the losses in fuel and time alone!? Do you really think that capturing a few Yakuzas justifies a similar damage!?"

"I'm curious, are you going to find a way to blame Tony Stark or the Accords for this screw-up too?" Sutherland asked before Steve even had a chance to answer. This time, even Hank didn't reply, although Sam could have sworn he could see the gears turning in his head to find a way to put the blame on Stark's shoulders.

"Ok, this was all a terrible idea," Edwards surmised when nobody answered Sutherland's question, "Hank, grab your friends, pack your things and leave."

Steve's eyes bulged. Edwards was kidding, right?

"Wha... You- you can't just kick us out!" Scott protested.

"Yeah, pretty sure we can," Leary replied, "it's our base, after all."

For a moment, Hank bristled, but then he immediately recovered his cool: "Yeah, it's your base. And now we know where it is" he scoffed.

"Pardon?" Caldwell hissed, smelling trouble.

"We know everything about you guys," Hank smirked, "and you said it yourselves: you have to constantly look over your shoulders. So, are you really sure you want us to go away, now that we know where you are and what you do here?"

A heavy silence followed Hank's threat. Edwards was the first to reply: "Careful, Pym. You're threading on really thin ice here," he seethed, pointing a finger at him.

"You leave me no choice. We are all on the same boat here. If we go down, you go down too," Hank replied smugly.

The four ex-SHIELD agents growled at him, but Hank stood his ground.

Steve tried to diffuse them: "Look, we made a mistake. I understand that in this particular occasion, the collateral damage we caused grossly overmatches the benefit of completing the mission, but we are better than this. We are the Avengers. Accidents happen, but I promise you that the next time, everything will go flawlessly. And if it doesn't... we'll leave you alone."

The four perked up at Steve's statement. Hank too looked at him and shook his head, probably confident that he could blackmail his former colleagues indefinitely.

But Steve didn't see it that way: "We only ask for another chance. If the next mission doesn't go off without a hitch, we'll leave this place and forget it even exists. But for now, we need you. One last chance. It's all we ask for."

None of them believed him. But they all hesitated. It sucked, but Hank was right: they couldn't kick them out. They knew too much.

"One last chance, Rogers," Sutherland finally relented, "Next time you screw up, you will sorely regret it."

"Thank you," Steve replied, smiling gratefully, "we won't let you down."

"You already said that the first time," Edwards muttered while Steve and the team finally exited the Quinjet.

As they moved inside the base, none of them noticed Caldwell suddendly smirking.

"Boss, we have a problem," Friday started, entering Tony's office.

Tony was startled: "Hmm?" he just answered, as Friday jolted him out of his thoughts: "I'm sorry, baby girl, what was that?"

"Steve Rogers has done it again," Friday elaborated, "his team has sunk a Japanese cargo ship, the Yasoshima Maru. I've run some checks, the ship belongs to a shell company owned by one Shigeru Morimoto, a prominent figure of the Japanese organized crime."

"The Yakuza?" Tony asked distractedly.

"Yes, Boss. Morimoto was found tied and gagged in front of a police station in Panama City, along with several of his known associates and the entire crew of the Yasoshima Maru."

At first, Tony only nodded: "So at least Rogers caught the bad guy this time," he said simply.

Friday's brow furrowed: he seemed really distracted today. She was about to ask if he was feeling alright, when suddendly his eyes bulged: "Wait, a police station in Panama City? Hang on, you said they sunk- ...oh, please, tell me it's not what I'm thinking..."

Friday nodded gravely: "The Yasoshima Maru was sunk at the Pacific entrance of the Panama Canal."

Tony covered his face with his hands and shook his head: "You've gotta be shitting me," he sighed.

When he didn't say anything more, Friday continued: "The Panamanian authorities have already written a preliminary report. Apparently, the Yasoshima Maru was sunk close to the Bridge of the Americas, in sight of Balboa Reach. It's the first stretch of the Canal on the Pacific side, and luckily it's a spot in which the Canal itself is still wide enough that most ship can sail past the wreckage with reasonable safety. At a first, approximate estimation, the navigational hazard is deemed too high for ships longer than 950 feet and with a GRT of about 210 thousand tons or heavier."

"Great," Tony muttered to himself, dragging his hands down his face, "Alright, let's see how angry the Committee will get this time. Gather the team in the conference room. Just, uh... Give me fifteen minutes."

Friday's brow furrowed again: "Boss?"

"There's, um..." Tony started, before shaking his head dismissively: "There's something I gotta do first."

When Wanda saw him enter the room, she found herself completely out of breath.

She definitely wasn't ready. Ever since she had been thrown in this cell, the only person she had interacted with was Friday. She was expecting it to be her this time as well. She definitely wasn't expecting him.

"M-Mr. Stark," she acknowledged awkwardly, standing up from her cot but still looking down in a show of politeness, respect, maybe even submission.

Her plan had worked. This was her chance, and she was going to make it count.

"Hello, Wanda," he greeted casually. God, his voice was so deep and warm...

Wanda gathered herself: "I'd tell you to sit and make yourself comfortable, but... I can only offer you a place on my mat." she said, finally looking up at him and smiling apologetically. She took in his appearance as if it was the first time she saw him. In a way, it was: this was the first time she looked at him in person under a completely different light.

The last time she had seen his face had been in Leipzig, while the police was arresting her and he was talking with some paramedics who were wheeling away a stretcher with an unconscious James Rhodes on it. It had been a fleeting instant, him far away and not even looking in her direction, but she remembered perfectly the worry and anger etched on his face in that moment.

After that, she had only ever met him once, in San Francisco, that fateful night when she and Clint were captured. She remembered that occasion just as clearly: Tony had never opened his helmet. She had never seen his face again. All she remembered was the armor: it was a dark blue, almost black. She had later found out in Friday's memories how that armor, 'Sweet Revenge', Tony called it, resembled Steve's SHIELD uniform. The uniform Steve had worn while unwittingly working for Hydra. Mocking, distracting and playing on Steve's guilt all at the same time. Tony truly was a genius. She was sure Steve would never have a chance the next time.

And now, all of a sudden, there he was, in her cell, wearing jeans, a T-shirt and a black leather jacket.

He looked way more relaxed. Younger, even. It was probably thanks to Extremis. She had seen that too, in Friday's memories. The thought of Steve hurting him so badly that he had had to resort to an experimental super serum to survive made her bristle with anger. She had really chosen the wrong side.

Tony moved silently to her cot at the same time she did, and they sat side by side. If he sits with me it means he isn't scared, otherwise he would stay by the door... Thank God, I can't stand him being scared of me...

He looked down, seemingly gathering his thoughts, before looking back at her: "So, we have found your safe house in Boston, but by the time we got there, Steve and the others were long gone. Now they've caused a disaster in Panama. We need to find them, and fast. Wanda, if you have any idea where they could be, I need to know. I know you hate me and you think I'm the bad guy in all this, but-"

Wanda shook her head: "No! I- I don't hate you, Mr. Stark! I was wrong about you, I realize that now!" she assured, taking his hands.

Tony didn't try to withdraw, and that was all the encouragement Wanda needed to act.

She concentrated as much as she could without giving herself away. She could feel some of her power forcing past the suppressor. It was such a meager amount that Tony would never notice, and it probably wouldn't have had any effect if she weren't actually making physical contact by holding his hands. Even so, it was not gonna make much of a difference.

But she had to try. She had to make him understand. She had to convince him.

She lowered her head: "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. It is true that, for a long time, I thought you were bad. But I've opened my eyes now. And... I never thought my opinion on somebody could change so radically. You... you're a great person, Mr. Stark. And you can believe me, if I knew anything about where Steve is, I'd tell you. I'd be happy to tell you. What he did to you... how he lied to you, about something so important... I despise him for that. I can imagine very well how you must have felt in Siberia..." she said with a slightly broken voice, her eyes becoming glassy with unshed tears.

Tony looked at her and felt a whirlwind of emotions. He felt sorry for her, and he also felt guilty. If only he had sat down with her and talked to her about why she needed to stay at the Compound before Leipzig happened...

He also felt like he had never really tried to understand Wanda before. He had written her off as opportunistic, childish, dangerous and generally bad, but maybe... maybe she really was trying to atone for her past. He, better than anyone, should know that.

Maybe it wasn't right. Maybe she didn't deserve all this. Of course, she had done terrible things, but she maybe she was telling the truth, about being sorry and having opened her eyes...

"Alright. I believe you, Wanda," he assured her.

Wanda smiled sincerely. After all, she had only told him the hard and fast truth.

Tony sighed. Maybe it was time to clear the air between them: "Wanda, I'm sorry it came to this," he sighed, gesturing to the cell, "but there was no other choice, you know that, right?"

Again, Wanda nodded meekly: "I understand, Mr. Stark. I... I just... I felt like being an Avenger was my chance to be better..."

Her eyes got glassy again. She let go of one of Tony's hands to wipe out her tears.

She was miserable, and Tony hated it. He looked at her more closely, and... he found himself thinking he didn't want to see her cry. She was so beautiful when she was smiling...

He drew her into a hug. She calmed down quickly and he felt the need to reassure her: "I don't know what's going to happen now. You're not getting off with a slap on your wrists, what you've done is pretty impossible to defend. Whatever your reasons may be, they are not good enough reasons to smash an airport and a nuclear powerplant. But I'll try to pledge your case, ok? I can't get you out of this cell, but I can try to make it more comfortable for you... Maybe we can replace that collar with a bracelet or something like that, and get you in a bigger cell, maybe with a window..."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark... I don't deserve your kindness," she said lowering her head, just as a traitorous voice in the back of her mind confirmed: you really don't.

Tony didn't answer. He just looked at her. They were still holding hands.

"Mr. Stark..." Wanda whispered, inching closer to his face, "Tony..."

The moment was abruptly broken by the door of the cell swinging open. Friday stood there with a solemn expression. Wanda let go of Tony's hands and withdrew, just as Tony was jolted back to his senses: "Are you waiting for me?" he asked his daughter.

"Yes, Boss. We are ready when you are." she answered professionally. Maybe too professionally.

"Good. Let's go to work," Tony stated, getting up, "See you, Wanda." he greeted simply. When Wanda just nodded in acknowledgement, Tony smiled at her and he left the room.

Friday didn't.

She narrowed her eyes at Wanda and took two steps closer: "What's going on?" she asked generically.

"I don't take your meaning," Wanda replied, trying to appear less challenging as possible.

Friday wasn't gonna fall for it: "Your nostrils flared," she said, crossing her arms.

"What?"

"Your nostrils flared," she repeated, "It's an involuntary reaction when someone is lying or hiding something."

Wanda stumbled a bit: "I didn't ask Mr. Stark to come here," she assured.

"Right," Friday simply answered. You wanna play, witch? Alright, let's play.

"Did you have fun last night?" Friday asked then, smirking.

Wanda's eyes bulged: "You- you were watching me?" she shrieked. Had Friday figured her out?

"Of course I was," Friday answered casually, "I told you I'm constantly on witch-watch duty. Didn't know it would become so gross..."

That got Wanda angry: "Well, if it bothers you so much all you have to do is turn off the feed! A real woman has needs, not that you would know that!"

Friday didn't take her up on the offence: "Actually I can't turn off the feed. The Committee wants AV surveillance on you 24/7. It's to make sure you're not mistreated. And just so you know, they review all of the footage we send them. I was going to ask you to refrain from doing that again, but if you don't have any qualms with them seeing you enjoy yourself at night, who am I to judge?"

Wanda's eyes bulged again. Friday got even closer: "I don't know your intentions, Witchy, but take my advice: if you're up to something, you better stop now." she seethed, turning and leaving the room.

Even in the midst of the embarrassment that Friday's revelation had caused her, Wanda released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

The Panamanian representative of the Sokovia Accords Central Committee was a middle aged man called Mariano Ferrer. And he was so pissed it was almost like he was spitting fire from his mouth.

"How is it even possible!? Those four hijos de puta caused more damage to my country than World War Three would have done!" he shouted, slamming his fist down on his desk. Both the Avengers and every other representative of the Committee connected in video conference with them flinched.

"Delegate Ferrer, I'm sure we can work out the fastest way to remove the wreckage," Isaiah Bradley, the new American representative, said placatingly.

"Yeah, and in the meantime, the Panama Canal will be operating at half capacity! Your countries can all handle it, but Panama? This is... Gah, I can't even find the words! Can we keep the wreck of the Yasoshima Maru as a souvenir!?" Ferrer scoffed with desperate sarcasm.

"Are there any new informations about the whole thing?" Friday asked, stopping Ferrer's rant, "we have received the preliminary report, but any more information could be useful..." she prodded him.

The Panamanian delegate sighed: "Apparently, the freighter was transporting a shipment of black market weapons from Yokohama, Japan to Caracas, Venezuela. The buyer is still unknown. Rogers intercepted the ship when it entered the Canal, approximately when the ship passed the Bridge of the Americas. It is possible they actually jumped on the ship from the bridge itself. The shipment was composed of some old assault rifles, mainly Kalashnikov AK-47s, and several explosives. Explosives that Morimoto's crew decided to blow up in a last ditch effort to get away from Rogers. They were powerful enough to punch a hole in the starboard side of the hull of the Yasoshima Maru. The ship immediately started to list and veered to the right, beaching itself within sight of Balboa Reach. Most of the ship is still over water, but the main problem seems to be the narrow space of maneuver for the salvaging operations," Ferrer answered analytically. Then his face darkened again:

"Rogers needs to be stopped. He's already smashed an airport, nearly destroyed a nuclear facility and now this? He belongs in a cell..."

"Do the Avengers have any lead on Rogers?" asked Carlos Barrero, from Argentina, steering the conversation onto the main topic of the meeting.

"We do," answered Hope, "we have a person who was really close to Scott Lang that has agreed to warn us as soon as any useful information becomes available. And when it does, we are ready to strike..."

During the entire meeting, Tony wasn't hearing a single thing. He was still thinking about Wanda.

He wasn't gonna let her out. The mere thought was just ridiculous. She had broken dozens of laws and she had to pay for it. Period.

But... He felt like the treatment she was receiving wasn't right. It was just-

"Mr. Stark?"

His name being called brought his attention back to the meeting. He shook his head: "I'm sorry, can you repeat?" he asked, vaguely awkward.

"Do you agree with Ms. Van Dyne? Will the Avengers be ready the next time Rogers resurfaces?" asked Ferrer again, a little impatiently.

"Uh, yes, sir. As soon as we get a hit, we will be ready to intervene," he assured.

"Good," Ferrer growled, "I really look forward to having words with him."

"Many people do, Delegate Ferrer," commented Kurt Leutjens from Germany. Cozmin Antonescu, from Romania, nodded gravely in agreement.

As the meeting was adjourned, Friday looked at Tony with worry in her eyes. He was so distracted today... and he also went to visit Maximoff.

No one could convince her the two things weren't related.

"So you noticed that too," Pepper surmised, leaning back in her chair with a thoughtful expression. Friday gave her a questioning look.

"I called him today for an update on some SI projects," Pepper clarified, "he answered all my questions with monosyllables. At first I thought he was stressed, but stress never caused him to be like that before. This sudden change in his behaviour is pretty odd indeed..."

"It's Maximoff," Friday replied with conviction, "she's up to something..."

"I thought her powers were suppressed?" Pepper asked worriedly.

"I don't know," Friday answered, "that suppressor has never been tested on anyone except her. Anyway, it's no coincidence that Boss went to visit her today."

"No, you're right..." Pepper sighed. A long moment of silence passed before she spoke again: "Well, whatever the case may be, the sooner we get Maximoff transferred out of the Compound, the better."

"Agreed. And I might have found a way for that to happen," Friday said with smug satisfaction in her voice.

Pepper's head perked up in interest: "Have you found someone who could take her and that the Committee would approve?"

Friday smirked: "I did. It wasn't easy, but in the end I've found someone who seems practically tailored for the job of keeping Wendy Wonka at bay," she said, handing her mother a tablet with her latest research.

Lately, T'Challa had been thinking a lot about paradoxes.

For example: he was the Black Panther. The strongest warrior in Wakanda, now known for his strength and prowess in battle even to the rest of the world. And yet, his strenght and battle skills had been for naught against a skinny woman in high heels.

Virginia Potts had him cornered. One wrong move, and she could destroy him. If she were to reveal what she had on him, she could practically overthrow him.

And that was a paradox: him, the King of Wakanda, destined to the throne since the day he was born, forced into compliance and submission by a woman that Steven Rogers had once referred to, whilst conferring with T'Challa and trying to change his mind about the Accords, as 'just some sort of glorified secretary'.

If that was a secretary, I am Helmut Zemo, T'Challa thought. Tony Stark sure had chosen well when he had appointed his successor as CEO of his company. He was curious about what that 'secretary' was would do to Steve Rogers if she could have a go at him.

Another, more immediate paradox was the one in the middle of which the young king was presently finding himself: having to rely on his sister - the Princess - to save his throne and remain King.

"Brother, with all due respect," Shuri sighed, "what you ask of me, it's impossible."

"Shuri, you always told me that if I needed your help, all I had to do was ask. Well, I am asking now..." he said, frustrated.

"Yes, you are asking, but you not for my help," Shuri replied condescendingly, "you are asking for a miracle. We have to face the truth, brother: you have made a mistake, and the repercussions are inevitable."

"Repercussions? That is putting it mildly, sister," the young king gritted out, "if Virginia Potts, or anyone else in Stark's entourage, releases what she has threatened to, it will spell disaster for our country. Such information would do us in. Wakanda risks a civil war. A real civil war, completely different from the scuffle that tore apart the Avengers. Anarchy, devastation, death on our streets. Is that what you want, sister?"

T'Challa had let all his frustration and anger bleed into his words in an effort to make her understand, and he nearly got the opposite reaction. Shuri was bristling in rage: "And who are we to blame for that, brother?", she retorted with a vicious expression on her young, beautiful face.

T'Challa lowered his head, conceding to her point: "Me," he simply muttered.

"You," Shuri agreed. "You welcomed that group of dangerous terrorists and their delusions of grandeur into our very home. And why did you do that? Because despite preparing for the throne for all your life, your first decision as King was to wage war on a man whom you later found out was innocent of what you held against him. It all spiraled because of that decision, T'Challa. It was a mistake, and mistakes bear consequences."

T'Challa clenched his fists: "I wanted to atone for that mistake!" he retorted hotly. "You said it yourself: James Barnes was innocent-"

"Of what you held against him," Shuri repeated patiently, as if talking to a small child, "He was being framed for Helmut Zemo's action in Vienna, but his actions afterwards are not those of an innocent man. Bucharest, Berlin, Leipzig, Siberia, Pennsylvania and now Panama. James Barnes is not, T'Challa, an innocent man."

"Still, I had wronged him. I had to atone," T'Challa replied stubbornly.

"You still think too much like the Black Panther and too little like the King of Wakanda. They are one and the same in you, but you can't favor one while tainting the other." Shuri interrupted him, as frustrated as he was.

"It's not as easy as you imagine," T'Challa relented, deflating.

Shuri's frustration seemed to quell a bit: "I know, brother. I cannot imagine how difficult this must be for you, but you can't afford such misjudgements."

"I am trying. I am trying to do better, but I need this Sword of Damocles off my head! Can't you ask the Accords Committee to do something about it?" T'Challa asked.

Shuri's frustration came back with a vengeance: "And how, pray tell, do you expect me to ask that of the Committee, without revealing your involvement with Rogers to the Committee in the first place!?" she said, raising her voice.

T'Challa flinched. Normally, such a behaviour towards the King would have been considered unacceptable, even for another member of the Royal Family, but this time, the Dora Milaje in the room didn't move a finger.

Not that T'Challa blamed them. Because really, how indeed?

Shuri shook her head: "If we truly want Tony Stark not to act on his threat, there is only one way. We will have to buy his silence."

The king perked up: "You don't mean..."

Shuri nodded gravely.

T'Challa's expression became shocked: "No. We can't. You can't! If we start to allow foreigners to-"

"Can you propose a better alternative, your Majesty?" Shuri interrupted sarcastically, spitting her brother's title scornfully. T'Challa lowered his eyes, but she wasn't done yet: "You put us in this situation. It is because of you that we have to do this. It's the only thing we have to offer."

Her brother weakly shook his head: "I could abdicate. Recuse the throne..."

"And you think Stark will care if you do?"

The king's head dipped in shame and defeat. His sister was right: he, personally, had nothing to offer to Tony Stark. But Wakanda did.

It felt completely, utterly, fundamentally wrong. But the death of their father had caused a lot of unrest in Wakanda. If T'Challa became compromised now, there was no telling what could happen.

For the sake of their country, it had to be done.

"You have my blessing, sister. I'll allow you to do this as you see fit," T'Challa finally relented. Before he dismissed her, however, he put his hands on his Shuri's shoulders affectionately and gave her a worried look: "But remember, be wary of Stark and his people. They are much more dangerous than they let on."

"I will, brother," Shuri replied, "though I do believe they are only dangerous for those who cross them."

It was very difficult to throw Pepper Potts off her game. Negotiation and business agreements had been her bread and water for most of her life.

But when a man that was supposed to be a world-renowned neurosurgeon strolled into the hall of Stark Tower dressed like something between an asian monk and a medieval fairytale mage, and then his cape floated off his shoulders and levitated away from him to go hang itself on the nearest coat rack, even she was left speechless for a moment.

"Miss Potts, nice to meet you," the man greeted, extending his hand and smiling, as if the gravity defying cloak was no big deal.

Pepper had to take a moment to shook herself out of her daze. Considering we've called this guy specifically to deal with Maximoff's magic, something like a flying cloak was to be expected, come to think of it. She took his hand and shook it: "Doctor Strange, I'm glad you agreed to this meeting," she replied professionally.

"What can I say, you intrigued me. It's not often that the Masters of the Mystic Arts get a call by a... foreigner, so to speak. Add to that that you called me to deal with what, from what I understand, is alien magic, and we can safely say that you definitely caught my attention."

"Well then, shall we discuss the problem at hand?" Friday asked, all business. Pepper noted that apparently, the girl hadn't been fazed as much as herself by the floating cloak. Maybe she had already found out about that when she had researched this man.

Friday also seemed to be in a hurry. With that, Pepper could relate. She too wanted the witch away from Tony as soon as possible.

Strange sat down on a couch: "Absolutely," he agreed, as Friday and Pepper sat down across from him.

"Here's the thing," the former surgeon started, "You've probably called the right guy, but I'm still not sure about the whole situation. That's why I wanted to discuss things in person..."

"It's only fair," Pepper agreed.

Friday started to explain: "As you know, the Avengers have captured the Scarlet Witch and have been detaining her at the Avengers Compound ever since. So far, she hasn't caused problems, and we've felt that we could safely keep her contained until now, because her telepathic powers are ineffective on both me and Vision. However, this was never meant to be a definitive solution. Maximoff was to be transferred out of the Compound as soon as effective means to safely detain her were found..."

"And that's why you called me, correct?" Strange interjected.

"Yes," Friday confirmed, "for that reason and also because lately, I can't shake the feeling that Maximoff's up to something. That's why we want her removed as soon as possible. We have always assumed we had her handled, but I'm not so sure anymore..."

"Well, it's not outside the realm of possibility," the doctor reasoned, "Maximoff's magic is alien in nature. It comes from an Infinity Stone..."

"Does that cause a problem?" Pepper interrupted.

Strange eyed her smugly: "If you're asking whether she's too powerful for us to handle, the answer is no. I have harnessed the power of an Infinity Stone myself before, and I know how to deal with it. The problem is that if I agree to help you, I will have to sign the Accords... just to be clear, I've read the entire document and I have no problems with signing it, but it's not just about me in this case. Some of my colleagues tend to scrunch their noses at the idea of United Nations oversight. Many of them are sworn to secrecy, and some practices at Kamar Taj are best kept away from the public. So I need to ask you this before I agree to anything: I've read a clause about registered enhanced working with non-registered ones. Would it apply in this case too?"

"Yes. The clause you're referring to was part of the latest amendments of the Accords, about non-signatory enhanced that are associated with signatory ones," Friday explained quickly, having expected the question, "in this specific case, if one or more of your associates that haven't signed the Accords help you with detaining Maximoff, all you have to do is vouch for them to the Accords Committee. If you do that, they won't need to sign the Accords to help you and they won't ever need to even appear in front of the Committee unless they cause harm to people or things..."

"We don't want to force anybody into signing," Pepper pointed out, "that's one of the things Steve Rogers didn't understand about the Accords, and we don't want anyone else to make the same mistake: you only have to sign if you act publicly with your enhancements. If you don't want to sign, all you have to do is keep your powers to yourself and not cause trouble."

Strange nodded, content with the women's explanation: "Perfect. I'll explain that to my associates."

"Do you think they will agree to these terms?" Friday asked.

Strange gave her a long look: "I'll be frank with you: Maximoff has been person of interest among the sorcerers of Kamar Taj ever since the Avengers Civil War. A woman running around blowing shit up with what everyone refers to as 'magic' and calling herself the 'Scarlet Witch' puts all of us in a bad light. Nobody cares that her magic is different than ours. We want her leashed and muzzled as much as you and the Avengers do. So no, I don't think there will be any objections."

"That is good to know. When will you be able to take the witch in your custody?" Pepper wanted to know then.

"Wong is a very efficient man," Strange smirked, "He'll have everything arranged in a couple of days after I get the paperwork done on my end..."

At the questioning looks the two women gave him, the sorcerer shook his head, smiling: "Wong is a librarian at Kamar Taj. He's the funniest man ever. Huge Beyoncé fan," he laughed to himself.

"Okay..." Friday said, "we will be ready to transfer Maximoff as soon as the Committee agrees to leave her into your custody," she stated, a bit apprehensively. She really couldn't wait to get rid of that witch.

"Good," Strange nodded, satisfied. "I'll pick her up as soon as we're ready for her. A couple of days, maybe three," he said, holding out his hand.

"Thank you, Doctor," Pepper greeted, shaking his hand, "we appreciate your help."

The sorcerer smirked a really Tony-like smirk: "I aim to please."

It was later that day that Friday received the best news ever: the Committee had discussed the Maximoff situation with Strange and had given the all-clear. Soon, the little witch was gonna be out of her hair, hopefully forever. Another forty-eight hours, at most.

Friday was elated, as she made her way to Wanda's cell with her dinner on a tray on one hand.

Wanda's cell was made of concrete, but the wall facing the corridor was bomb-proof glass, so that it could always be seen where Wanda was in the room. When Friday reached her destination, she found her sitting on the floor, propped against the glass. It was a favourite position of Wanda, with her back turned to the corridor. Now that Friday thought of it, it should have been enough of a hint that she had been up to no good...

She banged twice on the wall with her free hand: "Step away from the door," she ordered. However, her tone lacked the usual harshness she normally reserved to the other girl. Maybe her joy about Wanda's imminent relocation was showing.

The witch complied without protests, as she usually did. Only this time, she never took her eyes off Friday as the redhead put her tray down on the metal surface welded on the far wall acting as a table.

Friday stared back at her: there was curiosity in Maximoff's eyes. Maybe even a hint of suspicion.

"What?" Friday demanded harshly, tired of that analytical stare.

Wanda flinched: "N-nothing," she stuttered.

Friday eyed her back for a moment before rolling her eyes. Thank God that in a couple of days she's finally gonna be someone else's problem, she thought, making to leave.

She didn't notice Wanda's eyes bulging as she turned around.

She didn't notice Wanda's powers reading that thought and then looking deeper in her mind trying to understand what it meant.

She didn't notice Wanda's shocked expression when, not five seconds later, she actually found out the truth.

She didn't notice any of that, as she left the room, locked the door behind her and left.

Alone again, Wanda took a couple of steps backwards until she stumbled on her mattress and fell down on it, eyes wide and unseeing.

They were gonna move her out of the Compound. Send her away to someone that could potentially be able to lock her powers entirely, or maybe even strip her of them altogether.

They were gonna deny her the last chance she was gonna have. They were gonna take her away from Tony.

She looked at the still untouched tray of food on the small table, and immediately, the last meal of a prisoner sentenced to death came to her mind.

I have to do something...

Saying that Bucky was grateful to Hydra for the things he had learned being the Winter Soldier was ridiculous. But it was undeniable that, in all his years as Hydra's crown jewel, he had developed an instinct that was extremely useful and never wrong.

And his instinct told him that Oliver Caldwell was hiding something.

It was barely noticeable, but it was there. Sometimes, Bucky caught the former SHIELD agent staring at him just a moment too long. Other times, he saw him frown thoughtfully - knowingly - at his friends and at Steve's team as they discussed. No one would have given such little things a second thought. But ever since freeing himself from Hydra, Bucky wasn't very inclined to blindly trust people.

He had never told anyone about his suspicions, however. Steve probably wouldn't have believed him, and Caldwell's friends would have sided with their colleague. Plus, he didn't really have anything on Caldwell other than a few thousand yard stares, after all.

Or rather, he didn't have anything until now.

It all happened in an instant. Caldwell was following Sutherland in the garage. Bucky was just passing by. There was no one else around.

It sounded horribly cliché, but Bucky could have sworn he saw it happen in slow motion: Sutherland opened the door to the garage and stepped inside. Behind him, Caldwell looked Bucky right in the eye and sent him an evil smirk, while his right hand moved behind his back under his jacket and came out holding a Beretta 9mm with a silencer, right before he followed Sutherland inside the garage.

Bucky acted on instinct: he sprinted to the door as fast as he could. But despite everything, the surprise had been too much.

He wasn't fast enough. He barely made it to the door as he heard Caldwell's voice call: "Hey, Todd..." Sutherland turned around and was faced with Caldwell's gun pointed right between his eyes. There was a muffled sound, and Sutherland dropped dead to the floor.

Bucky's brain switched objective from saving Sutherland to stopping Caldwell in a split second, his body never losing momentum. But as it turned out, it was just what Caldwell wanted.

There was a single word murmured: "Sputnik."

Bucky felt his whole body seize against his will as his eyes widened in horror. He fell to the ground right on top of Sutherland's corpse.

As he lost consciousness, he realized he had walked right into Caldwell's trap. He saw the traitor open the trunk of Edwards' Range Rover and then grab him under his armpits and lift him into the back of the SUV.

He had been an idiot. All this time Caldwell had only been waiting for the right opportunity, and he had served it to him on a silver platter.

He felt his consciousness slip away rapidly, as Caldwell grabbed Sutherland's body and threw it in the trunk of the car with Bucky. He saw the man close the trunk and then heard the engine start before he blacked out completely.

"Cassie is okay, right?" Scott asked.

On the other side of the phone, Luis sighed: "Yeah, she's fine, man. She's happy."

"Good. Tell her that her daddy loves her and will be home soon."

"I will, Scotty. Promise."

"Alright. Thanks Luis. I really appreciate what you do for me."

"How're you doing, Scotty?" Luis queried then, trying to sound casual.

"Eh, we've hit a few roadblocks. These SHIELD guys are being a bit difficult, but Cap and Hank have them handled," Scott said. Luis then heard someone else in the background say "He was here ten minutes ago, Steve! He probably just went to the bathroom!"

"What was that?" asked Luis. "Um... I have to go. Apparently that Barnes guy has wandered off," Scott answered, "Cap tends to get a bit antsy if he doesn't have him around at all times. Not that I can blame him, those two are best bros after all, and look what Barnes has been through..."

"Well, okay, I'll leave you to it then."

"Yeah. I'll call you back in a few days. See you, Luis."

The line dropped.

Luis took a deep breath, looking at the phone for two long minutes. The he called another number.

Hope van Dyne picked up at the first ring: "Luis?"

"Yeah, hello, ma'am..." Luis started awkwardly.

"Have you got something?" hope asked, not losing time in any formalities.

Luis fell into his usual routine and started to blab: "Yeah, I do. So, check this out, Ma'am: I was at a vintage furniture market with my cousin Miguel, it was mostly Liberty style stuff... Ya, know, I'm more a Louis XIV type, but there was this mahogany vanity that was just-"

"Luis, get to the point!" Hope spat.

The man flinched. Scott was a lot more patient than this chick: "Okay, okay, alright... Well, Scott called," he said, before sighing, "I don't have an exact address, but... he said something about an abandoned airfield somewhere outside Philadelphia..."

"Philadelphia. Alright, Luis, thank you. You did the right thing," Hope reassured him.

Luis sighed again, lowering the phone from his ear: "I hope so," he muttered to himself.

Bucky had just started to come to his senses as a powerful electrical discharge surged through his body, making his nerves explode in pain. It lasted for a good half minute before it stopped.

He barely had time to catch his breath as he tried to understand what he'd gotten himself into: his arms and legs were bound, and much as he tried to break loose and even despite his enhanced strenght, the bonds didn't budge. He was in a weird position, half sitting and half laying down. But the two metal pads covering half his face were the most important clue.

They had put him in the chair. The chair they used to wipe him before and after the Soldier's mission.

"I'd ask if you slept well, but I'm kind of in a hurry," somebody said.

Caldwell, Bucky's mind supplied, he... That other guy is dead... Todd Sutherland, he is-

His thoughts were cut off by another electrical surge, more powerful than before. He didn't see, didn't hear, didn't feel anything other than pain anymore. He screamed, but he knew it was in vain.

This time, the agony lasted more than a minute, and when it finally ended, Bucky's mind was too scrambled to think. But what came next provoked a reaction in him anyway: utter, visceral fear.

"Zhelanye."

Bucky's eyes widened, still unfocused but trying frantically to find an escape.

"Rzhavyy."

No... No, not again... Please...

"Semnadstat'."

The electroshock had stopped, but Bucky screamed again.

"Rassvet. Pech'. Deviat'."

He started trashing as hard as he could. I... have to... get away! Have... to...

"Dobroserdechnyy. Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu. Odìn."

One last scream, louder than the others, tore out of him. Then, Bucky would remember nothing but darkness.

"Gruzovoy vagon."

The screaming and trashing abruptly stopped. Once again, James Barnes had ceased to exist.

Caldwell's figure slowly came into focus in front of the person that had taken his place: "Dobroye utro, Soldat."

Hope and Friday were in the main armory, having just finished testing their new 'secret move' they'd been working on that would allow them to work in tandem on their next mission. Now, while Hope ran maintenance on the Wasp suit, Friday was working on what she called a 'side project'. Hope had immediately recognized as an improved version of the suppressor collar that blocked Wanda's powers.

She was about to offer Friday her help when Luis called.

Tony, informed of the new developments, had tasked the young girl with finding everything she could about this abandoned airfield in Philadelphia. Friday did that remotely, using her computers, while she finished her work on Wanda's collar with Hope's help. This new version should contain the witch's powers much more effectively.

Friday seemed stressed lately, and clearly it had to do with Maximoff. Hope was as glad as everybody else that she was finally going to be moved out of the compound. Even more if that took some weight off Friday's shoulders.

It was two hours later when Friday completed her research, and the Avengers were called to assemble in the conference room.

Tony was the last to arrive, Hope noticed. Odd, he was usually the first one there and the last one to leave when the Avengers were concerned. Still, he seemed a bit more into the game than he was when they had that conference call with the Accords panel regarding the Yasoshima Maru.

"So, we might finally have a lead on Steve Rogers," Friday started when everyone was seated, "Our informant mentioned an abandoned airfield in the area of Philadelphia, and our satellites might have found something."

The flat screen on the wall opposite to the table lit up, showing a satellite image of a small airfield. There was only a single airstrip, two hangars and a small control tower.

"It's a rather secluded place," Friday explained, "forty-five minutes by car from the city. It used to be a private airfield for small aircrafts. From 1992 to 2003 it also housed a parachute school, but it's been closed since 2006."

"How do we know it's the right place?" Rhodey asked.

"Well, two years ago the property was bought by a private investor, one Jeremy Teague," Friday answered, "but apparently the facility has seen limited use ever since. I say 'apparently', because the electrical consumption has been so high in the last ten months that the place has even been outfitted with a secondary generator, independent from the public power grid..."

"Hm. A semi-abandoned airstrip shouldn't need so much electricity..." Hope mused.

"Indeed," Friday agreed, "so I researched this Jeremy Teague individual..."

A picture of a driving license appeared on the screen, replacing the image of the airfield. The man on the license looked like he was in his late fifties or early sixties. Both Natasha and Sharon perked up at seeing his face.

Friday was slightly gloating as she continued: "I ran facial recognition and-"

"Hey, that's Liam Edwards!" Sharon exclaimed, interrupting her.

"Who?" Rhodey asked.

"Liam Edwards. I worked with him a few times at SHIELD. He was assigned to my department," Sharon clarified.

"Yeah, he was one of the top agents. Level Nine clearance," Natasha added.

Everybody turned to Friday for confirmation, but the girl took a moment to scowl at the two former agents.

"What?" asked Sharon innocently, slightly cowed by Friday's glare.

Tony's daughter sighed and shook her head: "So much for my dramatic revelation," she muttered to herself. "Yes, his real name is Liam Edwards, former agent of SHIELD. What makes him relevant for us is that, before working with Miss Carter and Miss Romanoff, he used to work closely with Hank Pym during his stint as the first Ant Man at the orders of SHIELD."

"So you think Hank went to his old friend for help after San Francisco?" Hope asked. Everybody had noticed her calling her father 'Hank', but no one said anything about it.

"I think it's worth getting a closer look at this airfield," Friday conceded.

"Agreed," Tony finally spoke. He still had a bit of a distant expression, but Hope was relieved to see him taking charge.

Tony leaned forward: "Wasp, I think you're the best suited for some recon work. Get ready, Sharon will take you there with a Quinjet."

"Aye, sir," Hope nodded, standing up.

"And Hope? I know you're eager to kick a couple of asses on Rogers' team, but for now you're just gathering info. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary, is that clear?"

"Understood," Hope assured.

"Alright. Make contact us as soon as you find something," Tony concluded.

"He was here... he was here just fifteen minutes ago..." Steve muttered desperately, pacing like a caged animal. How could he have lost sight of Bucky just like that?

He was sure something bad had happened. But it was the fact that he couldn't figure out what had happened and how it had happened that was driving him crazy.

Sam tried to comfort him: "Steve, calm down. We'll find him, I promise."

Steve didn't have the time to answer that, as Edwards stormed into the room and raised his gun right at Steve's face. Sam and Hank immediately took a step back and Scott got up from the chair where he was sat: "Hey! Whoa! What the hell are you doing?" he yelled, raising his hands as if Edwards was pointing the gun at him instead of at Steve. Leary was confused, but seeing her friend acting so aggressively she instinctively drew her gun too.

"I've found blood on the garage floor," Edwards seethed, "My car is missing and both Oliver and Todd are nowhere to be found! What game are you playing at, Rogers!?" he asked.

"Are you out of your mind!?" Steve shouted, his confusion and nervousness reaching new heights, "Bucky is missing too! I could be asking you the same thing!" "Yeah, very funny! Neither Todd nor Oliver are brainwashed super assassins! Your friend Barnes is! I want to know what he did!"

"That's what we're trying to find out!" Hank exclaimed, "Put the gun down, Liam!"

"Shut your mouth, Pym!" Edwards retorted, moving his gun from Steve's face to Hank's, "You think I forgot your little blackmail speech?"

At this point, Leary had raised her gun too, pointing it at Steve. The situation was degenerating fast, and Hank felt like he had to find an answer that would calm the spirits.

But he never had the chance.

A window on the left wall shattered and something landed on the floor.

"Grenade!" Sam shouted. Everybody ducked for cover, but it was useless. The blow knocked everybody head over heels.

Steve's ears were ringing badly, as his eyesight slowly refocused. He realized that the blast hadn't cause any damage to the room, and nobody seemed to be hurt, although everyone had been knocked unconscious. A stun grenade. And a pretty powerful one, too.

Normally, stun grenades weren't powerful enough to make people loose consciousness, but apparently this one had been juiced up. It was probably only thanks to the serum that he hadn't been knocked out like the others.

SHILED used to have some equipment like that back in the day... and as a result, so did Hydra.

Could it be-

Steve's ears were still ringing as Bucky's figure appeared from the smoke, holding a gun. He barely had the time to register the lifeless expression of the Winter Soldier on his friend's face when, seeing him move, Bucky opened fire.

Steve ducked for cover behind a table and knocked it over. Bucky started shooting blindly at the flat wooden surface, grazing Steve's shoulder with one bullet, as he moved towards Hank's unconscious form, grabbed him by the scruff and threw him over his shoulder. Steve tried to get out from his hiding spot, but Bucky shot again, forcing him to duck back under the table.

The super soldier could hear Bucky's foorsteps moving quickly towards the exit. In a last ditch effort to stop him, to fix this, he kicked the table towards the door. It hit the wall and broke in half, but Bucky was already gone.

What happened!? Did they trigger him again!? HOW!? Steve's mind raced.

About ten seconds later, he heard two very loud explosions one after the other.

When he looked out of the window, he saw the two helicopters in flames and the old Quinjet taking off.

No! NO! I have to stop him!

Acting almost by instinct through the utter dismay that was clouding his mind, Steve scrambled towards Sam and crouched down at his side: "Sam! Sam, wake up!"

"I don't wanna..." the former pararescue slurred.

Steve was getting more and more desperate with each passing second: "Come on, Sam! I need your help, Bucky's getting away! We have to do something!"

When Sam uttered some more unintelligible words, Steve dragged him out of the room and into the garage, grabbing Scott as well along the way.

Hang on, Bucky. I'm coming.

"Whoa... what happened down there?" Hope asked, seeing the black column of smoke erupting from the two burning helicopters. The fires were melting with the orange from the setting sun.

"I don't know, but someone's leaving," Sharon answered, "at our two o'clock, can you see it?" she asked, pointing at the departing aircraft with her finger.

Hope squinted in the direction Sharon was indicating. Sure enough, a plane was taking off. It looked like a SHIELD quinjet, just like the one Barton, Maximoff and Wilson had in San Francisco.

"Should we call the police and maybe Vision to investigate the airfield while we follow that plane or do you want to land and take a closer look yourself?" Sharon asked then.

Hope's eyes narrowed for a moment: "No. Tell Vision to get here. We'll follow the jet," she decided.

Hank came to his senses in a room without windows and a single, closed door. The only furniture was a metal table and the chair to which he was tied.

In a corner of the room, Barnes stood at attention with a blank face, while Caldwell was leaning on the table with his arms crossed and a satisfied smirk.

"Oliver," Hank called, using his first name to try and appear friendly, despite guessing that Caldwell was going to be anything but, "What the hell happened?"

Caldwell's sneer darkened: "Oh, I'll tell you what happened. I was a level nine agent at SHIELD. I was successful, and respected. But then your all-American friend decided that because Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD, the entire organization needed to be taken down. Suddenly I found myself on the streets, with every intelligence agency in the the Western Hemisphere hot on my tail, and nothing but my skills to help me survive. I think you can imagine how I felt when you brought Steve Rogers to my doorstep, asking for our help. When it became clear that the others were willing to give you a chance, I decided to make a few plans of my own... I'm kinda sorry for Todd, but he's the one who brought you to us in the first place, so he had it coming. Liam wanted to give you the middle finger, but Todd..."

Hank bristled: "What did you do, Oliver?"

"I shot him through the head," Caldwell replied casually, "Quick and painless. I don't think he even realized what happened."

Hank erupted: "You bastard! How could you!? He was your friend! Are you another one of those Hydra fuckers!?"

Caldwell put a hand over his chest mockingly, feigning hurt: "Me? Hydra? Nah, don't be ridiculous. Did I ever tell you my old man was Jewish? I don't really get along with Nazis... No, I'm just a guy who saw an opportunity and caught it."

Hank didn't understand: "What are you talking about? What opportunity?"

"Him," Caldwell explained, tilting his head towards Barnes. "It wasn't difficult to get a hold of the Winter Soldier's user manual in the JCTC secure server. Rogers left Siberia only worrying about getting his BFF out of there, without paying any attention to what that guy Zemo left behind. At first I considered pitting the Soldier against Rogers just for shits and giggles, but I'm kinda getting old, I need to start thinking about my retirement..."

"Your retirement?" asked Hank, a little less belligerant.

"Sure. And you're gonna help me with it." Caldwell jeered.

Hank immediately made the connection: "You want the Pym particles..."

"Wow, you're so perceptive."

"Caldwell, if you think you can pull this off and somehow coerce me into working for you, you're gonna be disappointed. I don't care what you're gonna do to me, I'd rather shoot my own head off a hundred times over than have those particles on the black market," Hank bit out.

"Oh, I can tell. But I'm not the one who's gonna coerce you" Caldwell scoffed, pointing at the Soldier, "He's the one who knows more about coercion than you and I can ever learn... and he's the one you should worry about right now."

The Soldier stood straighter, ready to comply to whatever new orders his handler was about to give him, eyes were fixed on their captive who was starting to show fear in his expression.

A moment later, all of a sudden, the door of the room exploded inwards.

The Soldier acted fast, not even waiting for his handler to give him the order to eliminate the threat. In a split second, his mind assessed the situation: the door had been blown up from the outside. This was not in the mission parameters. Someone was trying to stop them.

He stalked to the opening of the door, gun raised, ready to eliminate any and all threats to the mission. He didn't go far.

He barely had the time to recognize the familiar sting of the electricity hitting him in the back of his neck before he dropped, nearly unconscious, as his mind was scrambled again by the electroshock.

Caldwell didn't have time to react either: as soon as the Wasp had dropped Bucky with her stingers, Sharon barged into the room with her gun drawn and opened fire. Her opponent didn't even have time to draw his own gun, as Sharon shot him three times in the forehead, throat and chest with deadly accuracy.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

Hope grew back to her normal size and took her helmet off, staring at her father.

He just glowered at her, as if she was the real bad guy in all this. As if she wasn't the one who had just saved his life, but instead the one who had tied him to that chair.

Hope just shook her head as she moved behind him and started to untie him: "You're under arrest, you know that, right?" she asked, as Sharon kept her gun trained on him.

Hank scowled. Stark had defeated him, and he knew it. It was over now. But that didn't mean his backstabbing daughter would get away with it: "You are a disgrace, Hope!" he grunted as she cuffed his hands behind his back, "your mother would be ashamed of you!"

Hope grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around, grabbing him by the front of his jacket. She glared murderously at him, fighting back the urge to slap his ugly face until it was red like a tomato. But it wasn't worth it.

Her job here was done, and now Hank was finished: "Agent Thirteen," she called, "get this old geezer away from me before I punch his nose in." she said, shoving him towards Sharon.

The blonde took him by his left arm: "Let's go, old geezer," she said, as Hope turned her attention to the seemingly unconscious Winter Soldier.

But as she turned to face him, Bucky had gathered enough awareness to throw a kick in her direction, catching her square in the stomach. Hope stumbled backwards and dropped on all fours, gasping for air, while Barnes shot to his feet and bolted from the room. Sharon acted fast, holding Hank down and shooting at the fleeing soldier. She even clipped his left arm, but the bullet bounced uselessly on the steell plating.

Bucky ran. Sharon emptied the rest of her cartridge at him to try and incapacitate him, but he protected himself with his arm as he fled. She couldn't stop him.

"Son of a metal whore," she growled.

Hope slowly and shakily got to her feet: "I'm gonna find blood in my urine," she groaned, holding her stomach.

"Are you okay?" Sharon asked concerned, reloading her gun.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm fine," Hope reassured, steadying herself, "Sneaky little bastard... I should have known that a normal stun charge wouldn't have been enough to drop him," she exclaimed.

"You thought you can defeat a super soldier just like that, brat? Well, think again! Oh, I'd love to see Stark's face when you tell him Barnes slipped through your fingers again!" Hank commented mockingly.

"Yeah? Well, personally I look forward to see your face when you'll get your sentence, old man," Sharon retorted. "You're going to prison now, in case it hasn't gotten through your thick skull yet. And you're gonna stay there for a long, long time. Let's go, Hope..." she called.

But Hope was still looking out the door, towards where Barnes had escaped.

"Hope?" Sharon called again.

"You take him in, Sharon. I'm going after Barnes, he might lead us to Rogers and the rest of his friends." Wasp answered resolutely.

"What? Are you sure?" Sharon asked, "He hit you pretty hard... you might be hurt..."

"I'm fine," Hope insisted, straightening herself and fighting back a wince, "and that super-hobo can't have gotten far. I can find him. After all, he can run, but he can't fly," she concluded, winking at Sharon.

The blonde said nothing. Hope grabbed her helmet and put it back on: "I'm not letting him get away again," she vowed, shrinking down and taking off.

The collar wasn't budging.

Wanda was trying as hard as she could to break it, but it wasn't working. That blasted thing was tough. She had waited until midnight to try and break it, but now she was wondering if she shouldn't have started trying a couple of hours earlier.

That would have been too risky, however: she needed to wait until she was reasonably sure her jailer was sleeping.

Her time was running out though. She was going to be transferred the next day; so she had to make her move tonight.

But that bloody collar wouldn't break.

It's designed so that you shouldn't be able to break it, you idiot! Of course it's difficult to take it off! her mind supplied treacherously.

She frowned resolutely: But I have to.

I have to!

She tried again, both tugging at the collar with her hands and using her telekinetic powers, lips pulled back from her teeth in a strained snarl.

Come on... Come on!

She put all her strenght, all her will in that supreme effort...

...and finally, finally, the collar gave.

She tore it apart, breaking it in two, and it felt glorious.

Her power surged inside her, finally free. She felt it burn through her veins like fire. It was amazing.

The Scarlet Witch was back.

But now was not the time to revel in her newfound freedom. She still had to make things right.

Bursting through the door of her cell as if it was made of tissue paper, she started walking towards the living quarters.

She quickly assessed the situation: she couldn't feel Vision's presence in the Compound, he was probably out on a mission. Everyone else was still in their rooms... including Tony.

She couldn't have a better window of opportunity. It was now or never. She focused on Tony, only on Tony, as she started to make her way towards him.

Friday's computers registerd Wanda's escape immediately. In her room, her eyes snapped open.

She had decided to take him back to Sokovia, to Strucker's fortress. She found it fitting: it was the place where it all started, for the two of them. It was there that she met him for the first time. And it was also the first time she had wronged him. So it would be here that she would make it right.

Recreating the environment was easy, thanks to Tony's eidetic memory: she simply had to pick it up from his brain and project it in the dream in which she was inducing him. She only changed her own appearance, dolling herself up a little... well, a lot. She was trying to make a good impression after all, and everything else aside, Tony deserved his dreams to be as nice as possible.

Tony twitched lightly in his bed, as he dreamed of opening the secret passage that would lead him to the dungeons of Strucker's fortress. Beside him, Pepper was sleeping soundly, blissfully ignorant of what was about to happen.

Wanda had just exited the detention area, and was still walking slowly towards Tony's bedroom, enveloped in the red mist of her powers. Giving Tony all her attention, she hadn't sensed Friday getting out of her bed and sprinting towards the armory, to retrieve the new collar she had made.

The witch was free. Friday had to hurry.

"Guys, I got Strucker," came Steve's voice through the comm. Tony halfheartedly replied: "Yeah. I got... somethimg bigger."

The massive corpse of the Chitauri Leviathan was dangling ominously from the ceiling, but there was no sign of the scepter. Damn it, had they already smuggled it away? Thor was not gonna like this...

"Tony," a voice called. He turned, and suddendly, she was there.

He felt his palms go damp with sweat. She was gorgeous.

She was wearing a crimson evening dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Matching red lipstick seemed to promise him the sweetest things. Her mane of brown, waist-long hair was curled just so, and it even seemed of a lighter shade than normal. Her green eyes were circled in kohl, contrasting with her alabaster skin.

She was otherworldly. So beautiful that for a fleeting moment, Tony wondered if she was even real. Somehow, she looked too beautiful to be true. She almost seemed wrong.

But that thought was immediately replaced by confusion when he saw what she was holding in her hands.

It was Loki's scepter. She was holding it horizontally with both hands, as if offering it to him: "Look, Tony... I found it for you..." she said, holding the scepter a bit higher for him to see.

It was clear that Tony was too stunned to say anything. Wanda gave him a sad look: "I know you don't like people handing you things... but it's okay, Tony... You can take it..."

Hesitantly, Tony grabbed the scepter with one hand. Wanda's face lit up in a dazzling smile: "Thank you, Tony... I know it's hard for you to trust people, but I promise you, I will never, ever hurt you..."

Both were still hodling the scepter, slowly lowering it. Wanda inched closer to him: "You know that... Don't you, Tony?" she asked, saying his name as if it was the name of her long lost lover...

Friday barged into the armory and grabbed the collar, immediately turning around and running towards Boss' bedroom.

Wanda had just arrived there. She barely spent a second to check Pepper was still sleeping, before she approached Tony.

She let go of the scepter and put her right hand on Tony's cheek: "You know you can trust me, Tony..."

His breath was getting short. He didn't really understand what was happening...

Wanda closed her eyes. Their faces were just a couple of inches apart now.

"Tony..." she whispered one last time, leaning in for a kiss.

Friday barged into the room and saw Wanda leaning down to kiss Tony in his sleep, her hands at either side of his face emanating that creepy red mist.

The murderous rage Friday felt in that moment could only be equated to what she had felt when Boss had been left to die in Siberia.

For the first time since she her body had been created, her eyes started glowing the same fiery Extremis glow as Tony's did in extreme conditions.

"Get away from him!" she shouted. Wanda didn't even have time to react as Friday body-slammed into her and tackled her to the floor.

Both Tony and Pepper woke up with a start. Tony was still dazed as he saw the two girls on the floor. In a few moments, Friday had the new power suppressor secured around Wanda's neck and had pinned the now harmless witch underneath her, holding Wanda's wrists to either side of her head and pressing a knee on her belly, severely hindering Wanda's breathing.

Tony was dazed: why was Friday attacking Wanda? What was going on?

"What's going on!?" asked Pepper slightly scared, as if she had read his mind.

"What the fuck have you done to him!? Answer me!" Friday demanded.

The other girl looked at Tony with scared eyes, but he was still way too confused to do anything more than stare at her like he'd just fallen from Cloud Nine.

He felt like he wanted to tell Friday to release her, but something told him it would be wrong...

Friday's face was contorted in pure rage. Her eyes were still glowing that ominous orange, making her look every bit as scary and demonic as Wanda did when she used her own powers.

Friday harshly slapped her on both cheeks: "I'm not going to ask you again, witch! What have you done!?"

Wanda still looked briefly at Tony, but it was clear that he was not gonna help her. He just looked lost, maybe even upset.

"T-this isn't what it looks like..." she finally blurted out.

"Oh, really? What part did I misinterpret!? You didn't escape from your cell, invade Boss' bedroom and start messing around with his mind!? Not to mention, tried to take advantage of him in his sleep!?" Friday retorted.

"What!?" Pepper shrieked at Friday's words.

Tony turned to her and suddendly, he started to piece things together: the dream... it had to have been Wanda's doing... Wanda was supposed to be in her cell...

Friday was right! What was Wanda doing in his bedroom!?

"What are you talking about!?" Tony heard himself asking.

"She tried to kiss you while you were sleeping, Boss!" Friday claimed. Then she turned to Wanda: "And it really didn't look like a goodnight kiss!"

Wanda felt so embarrassed that she just wanted the floor beneath her to open up and swallow her whole. How was she going to explain herself now?

"Friday, let her up..." Tony said calmly.

It took a few moments for the girl to comply. When she did, Wanda didn't get up from the floor, only getting to her knees.

"What are you doing here, Wanda?" Tony asked then.

There wasn't rage in his voice. He had all the right to be furious with her, but instead he was just asking for an explanation. Wanda felt like crying.

"Answer the question!" Friday shouted, her eyes still glowing.

Wanda visibly flinched: "I-I was... I was just... t-trying to m-make things right... to ap-apologize..." she stuttered.

The next question came from Pepper: "Apologize for what, exactly?" she asked sternly. Clearly, she was much more angry than Tony was.

Tears started running down Wanda's face: "F-for... what I did to Tony... I was wrong... what I did with Ultron, and everything that came after that... it was unforgivable, I was trying to make it right..."

Tony looked even more confused: "So let me get this straight: you're sorry fro pushing me to reprise the Ultron project-"

"It's a lot more that that!" Wanda interrupted him, sounding desperate, "I- what I did afterwards was no better! I left you to shoulder all the blame when you weren't even at fault... Tony, I-I am so sorry... If I could take it all back I would, but... but I can't! I can't, but I really am sorry!"

Tony still had that lost expression in his eyes. Friday and Pepper looked absolutely enraged, but neither of them spoke.

"Tony... Please, tell me you understand..." Wanda pleaded.

Tony didn't answer, instead lying down on his bed and covering his face with his hands.

"Tony, please, say something..." Wanda begged again.

"What I understand is that you tried to apologize for fiddling with my head... by fiddling with my head," Tony murmured.

Wanda shook her head: "T-Tony, I-"

"Why the hell were you even trying to kiss me, anyway?" Tony asked then, looking at the ceiling.

Wanda didn't know how to answer. She stuttered something unintelligible, but other that that, she was just sobbing.

It was Friday who answered him: "I believe I know the answer: when you learned that you were wrong about Boss, your obsession towards him became less murderous and more... sentimental. Am I on the right track, witchy?" he seethed.

Wanda didn't even have time to deny what Friday was saying as the red-headed girl pressed on: "And so, you decided to just take what you wanted without caring about anything and anyone else. Because that's what you do, isn't it? You only think about yourself, you don't even know the meaning of the word 'consent'. So don't try and give us the 'I wanted to make amend' BS, it's not gonna fly. We know who you are, Maximoff. You were only entertaining yourself!" she added.

Wanda just looked at them pleadingly. She wanted to protest, to deny, but she was so embarrassed right now... she had never felt such shame...

"So... before she wanted to kill me, and now she wants to tap me? Is that what you're saying?" Tony asked Friday, who just kept staring at Wanda, disgusted. The new collar sealed Wanda's powers completely, but in that moment she could read only hatred on Tony's daughter's face.

"Alright, I've heard enough," Pepper declared, "Friday, please get her out of my sight." she growled.

Friday didn't need to be told twice. Her hand shot into Wanda's hair and she unceremoniously dragged the other girl out of the room.

"No, wait! Tony, please! Tony!" she called.

But no one listened to her pleas.

No reply came from the bedroom.

Nobody wanted to give her a chance anymore.

She had felt so much desperation and helplessness only once before. When she had sensed Pietro dying.

Now, she felt like she was dying too.

Friday dragged her by the hair all the way back to the detention wing. Since she had destroyed the door of her previous cell, Friday just went to the next one along the corridor.

She punched in the access code and, as soon as the door opened, she threw Wanda inside. The other girl lost her balance and fell forward. Friday didn't waste any time, grabbing her by the throat just under the collar and hoisting her up, holding her against the wall. Her eyes were still glowing with Extremis.

Wanda couldn't even talk. She was reduced to a desperate, terrified and ashamed crying mess.

"I distinctly remember telling you more than once that if you inconvenienced me, you would have regretted it dearly," Friday said.

Wanda felt Friday's hand growing hotter with Extremis and scalding her throat. Never before had she feared for her life like she did in that moment.

"Mercifully, you'll be shipped off tomorrow and won't be my headache anymore, so in this particular circumstance I'm willing to just keep you here for a few more hours, if only for the sake of avoiding more paperwork. But you can rest assured that I will make your new handlers know how unruly you can be, and I will highly recommend them to use he strictest methods they have at their disposal to keep you in line."

Wanda was trembling with fear as Friday came closer until she was barely six inches away from her face. "Tomorrow, we will part ways. After that, if you try to do something to the Boss again, if you try to approach him in any way, shape or form, if you so much as appear as a tiny dot on the horizon, I swear to you, I will make you wish you were back in the Raft, complete with that straitjacket! You know what they did to witches like you in the Middle Ages!? I will personally tie you on a pyre and burn you to ashes!" she vowed, her hand on Wanda's neck going even hotter, "Am I understood, Morgana!?"

"...y-yes," Wanda whimpered between sobs.

"I didn't hear you!" Friday shouted.

"Yes!" Wanda exclaimed again.

Finally, Friday released her. Wanda fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, holding her throat, trying to move the collar up to soothe the pain.

Friday hadn't burned her, but she almost wished she had. She felt lower than dirt.

"Evil piece of-" Friday muttered, slamming the door behind her.

"I'm not evil!" Wanda shrieked in protest.

No answer came. Wanda was left alone and defeated.

She had screwed up again. It was all she was able to do, apparently: cause troubles and make a mess of everything she touched.

She curled up in a ball and hugged her knees: "I'm not evil," she repeated before she started sobbing again.

Inside Tony's bedroom, Pepper laid down beside him on their bed, taking his hand.

Tony felt better immediately, as they both stared at the ceiling: Pepper grounded him. She always had. She was the order in his chaos.

After a long time, she broke the silence:

"I want a suit."

Bucky let out a pained noise.

It had happened again.

He didn't know where he was. He didn't know where Steve was. He didn't know anything anymore.

It felt like Washington all over again. After the Triskelion, he had just ran away. He hadn't known where to go, what to do. He had just known he had to get away. Now, he felt just like that, all over again.

His mind was a mess. He could feel the Soldier just under the surface, trying to get out. His thoughts were confused, incoherent, jumbled together...

His handler was dead... was that his handler?

Caldwell, right? Or was it Sutherland? What was the mission!?

What had he done? What had they made him do this time?

He shook his head and tried to focus, but he couldn't. He was too agitated. He felt like he couldn't even breathe.

This was never supposed to happen. Why hadn't they left him alone in Bucharest?

Why hadn't he stayed in Wakanda?

He felt like his head was exploding.

I can't do this... I need help...

He did need help.

He couldn't deny it anymore. He needed help, help that Steve couldn't give him. Besides, he didn't know where Steve was, or what had happened to him.

He couldn't go back to Steve. And that left him with only one option.

He tried to even out his breathing and looked up with determination. A plan was starting to form in his head.

As he started down the road towards Philadelphia, in the darkness of the night, he didn't notice the Wasp looking down at him from a nearby rooftop.

Wanda had lost everything.

She had had one last chance, and she had blown it. Like she always did.

Because that was the truth. She destroyed everything she touched. Maybe it was for the best that Friday had stopped her before she could truly get to Tony.

Tony was a wonderful man, and he had already been through enough. He definitely didn't need the added burden of having to deal with her emotional baggage on top of his own.

Besides, what had she thought was gonna happen if she had her way? That Potts would just step aside and let her have her man? That Friday would just do a one-eighty and accept her into her family after everything she had put her father through?

She had been such a fool. Again.

That's why she hadn't succeeded in the end. I never had a chance with Tony. Ever. He's a billion times better than what I will ever deserve.

He's like an angel. A beautiful armoured angel. I'm just a... a freak.

We can never be together.

When morning came and the door finally opened, Friday entering the room to collect her, Wanda never took her eyes off her own shoes.

She willingly and meekly offered her wrists, and the other girl immediately cuffed her. Then Friday grabbed her elbow and started leading her out.

Neither spoke until they were outside. There, three men she didn't know were waiting for her. Two of them were dressed with monk-like clothes, one of them white and the other asian. The third man was dark-skinned, and wore a business suit.

"Ms. Maximoff," the man in the suit spoke, "I'm Isaiah Bradley, US representative of the Sokovia Accords Committee. Meet Dr. Strange and Wong. You are now officially in their custody. Ms. Stark, if you would please uncuff the prisoner..."

"Of course, Delegate Bradley," Friday answered, taking Wanda's cuffs by the chain and starting to remove them.

The man called Strange addressed her then: "Will you cause trouble if we take that collar off?" he asked, a bit too condescendingly for Wanda's taste.

She was really tempted to tell him to go screw himself, but what would be the point? It wasn't like she still had anything to fight for, anyway. And besides... she really wanted that damn collar off.

She didn't trust her voice not to break, so she answered simply by shaking her head no.

When Friday finally took the collar off, her powers again came alive inside her. It was disheartening how different the sensation felt from the night before: then, she had felt like she was invincible. Now, she only remembered Friday's hauting words from their first conversation: revolting, messed up freak.

Still, with her powers back, she was finally able to learn more about these people. Strange and Wong were powerful magic users, apparently. But she didn't care in the slightest.

She wanted to know where Tony was.

She instinctively, unconsciously, tried to look inside all of their heads to find out. Of course, Strange and Wong noticed.

"She's doing it..." Strange muttered to Wong. The other sorcerer held his hands up and drew an intricate pattern on thin air with his fingers.

Pain exploded in Wanda's head as she felt her powers be forcefully blocked. She squeezed her eyes shut and made a strained noise as she held her head in her hands. She couldn't even protest as the two sorcerers greeted Bradley and Friday:

"If that's all, I guess we will be going. Ms. Stark, Delegate Bradley..." Strange said.

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Strange," Friday responded. Then, Wanda heard a faint, swooshing sound before the pain in her head finally receded.

Wanda opened her eyes to find herself in a completely different room. There were several wooden columns all around, and the ceiling was also made of wood, decorated in squared patterns.

Friday and Bradley were nowhere to be seen.

"Where are we? Where did you take me?" Wanda wanted to know.

"This is Kamar Taj," Strange answered simply, as if that was enough to answer Wanda's question.

"Kamar Taj? What kind of name is that?" Wanda asked then.

Strange shrugged: "Well, we're in Nepal, so-"

"Nepal!? Why did you take me to Nepal!?" Wanda demanded, slightly desperate.

"Because this is one of the very few places in the world where you can be contained safely. And, it's well removed from Tony Stark and the Avengers, so maybe that will lessen the temptation..." Strange answered coyly.

Burning hot shame colored Wanda's cheeks. Again acting on instinct, she tried to peek into the mage's head to see how much he knew, but this time it felt like her powers were hitting a brick wall.

Strange rolled his eyes: "Here we go again. Wong?" he called.

Again, Wong used the same technique he had used moments earlier to painfully block her powers. This time, Wanda dropped to her knees. Wong let her suffer a few seconds more before releasing the hold on her powers.

Wanda shakily raised her head, on the verge of tears: "What did you do to me?" she whined.

"I countered your powers. That caused you to experience some backlash, hence the pain you're feeling. Don't worry, it will fade in a few minutes, unless of course you force me to block your powers again," Wong explained in a detatched manner.

"But why!? I haven't done anything!" Wanda protested.

"Haven't done anything, huh?" Strange asked, "Poking around in people's minds is not doing anything for you?"

Wanda stumbled: "...I-"

"No," Strange interrupted her, "let me make one thing clear: the good old days when Captain America praised and coddled you are over. Here, there's no one who will give you some asinine motivational speech to lift your spirits when you're feeling low, or say it's not your fault when you royally screw up. From now on, if you step out of line, there are going to be consequences. So, if you think getting into people's head whenever you feel like it is normal, or even just acceptable, you better reconsider."

Wanda was stunned into silence.

Why? Why was everybody so cruel with her?

"Now, Wong will get you settled. The Committee is looking into finding you a therapist, and if said therapist ever manages to teach you to NOT do whatever the hell you want, whenever you want and without giving a fuck about anything or anyone else, I will teach you to get better control over your powers."

Wanda eyed him questioningly, but Strange just shrugged: "The Committee thinks that training and discipline would do you good. Maybe finally teach you about right and wrong. Frankly I don't see the point, it's pretty unlikely you'll ever walk free again, but they say prison sentences should not just be about punishing the criminals and keeping other people safe from them, but also about giving said criminals a chance to become better people. I'm pretty sure you've already had more than your fair share of chances, but whatever."

Wanda flinched. Strange just swirled his cape and walked off.

Wong addressed her next: "This way," he said simply, turning on his heels without even making sure Wanda was following.

He led her to a small room with a bed, a table and a small library. There was a window on the far wall, but Wanda knew trying to run away was futile. Judging by how Wong had managed to drop her effortlessly earlier, these people could easily overpower her in a matter of seconds if she were to try anything.

And besides, what was there left for her outside these walls? She had lost everything.

She had lost Tony...

Not privy to her thoughts, Wong turned to her: "Breakfast will be delivered shortly," he grunted, "It should be superfluous to say that if you try to escape you will fail, but you have abundantly demonstrated how thick your head is, so I'm reminding you again."

Wanda couldn't come up with a retort fast enough, as the sorcerer promptly left the room.

She stared at the closed door for a few minutes, before turning to the inside of her new room.

Of her new cell.

A cell away from the place that had become her home. Away from what little good she had found in her life.

Away from him...

All she could feel in that moment was despair.

No, she wouldn't try to run, because she didn't have a place to run to anymore. Running would be pointless.

Everything was pointless.

Princess Shuri of Wakanda knew that, at some point in her life, she had been more nervous than she was now. Or at least, she could reasonably think so. But she couldn't quite pinpoint when that had occurred.

Not that it was surprising, all things considered: this time, the fate of her country was at stake.

In a few minutes, she would be faced with the task of persuading Tony Stark to cease and desist with the hostility towards her brother and her country.

Never before had a foreigner held so much power over Wakanda. Shuri's task was unprecedented in its importance, and also in the direness of the consequences should she fail.

The royal jet was granted permission to land at the Avengers Compound's Helipad number 6. As the pilot initiated the descent sequence, the Princess assessed the situation one last time.

As soon a she had called to schedule an appointment to discuss the very delicate matter of T'Challa's involvement with Steve Rogers and his team, Tony Stark had immediately agreed to meet her, in private and without a fuss. He could have refused, or made her wait, or dragged things out, but he hadn't. Shuri was not foolish enough to think that this would make things easier for her, but at the very least it showed some willingness from Stark to discuss the matter. Maybe, it meant that he was willing to at least listen to her.

However, earlier that morning, the Accords Committee had been informed about some sort of fracas involving Wanda Maximoff. Thanks to her position as a member of the Committee, Shuri had thus learned that the witch had tried - and failed - to escape detention the night before. She had just been transferred out of the Compound, not an hour before Shuri's arrival, and there hadn't been other notifications to the Committee, so Shuri could safely assume that the relocation itself had gone off smoothly.

Or at least, she hoped so.

This attempted escape could be irrelevant, but she didn't know how it had affected Stark himself. At best, it had just been a small nuisance for him that wasn't going to affect his disposition for the upcoming meeting. At worst, it had angered him enough to completely erase his good will towards Shuri's pleas.

There was no way for Shuri to know what state of mind the man was going to be in. It was an unknown that could seriously lower her chances of accomplishing anything today.

She could only hope for the best.

The small jolt of the jet finally touching down meant the time for these assessments was over. She took a deep breath to center herself. She believed the American slang for moments like this was 'it's showtime'.

As she stepped out of the aircraft, she ordered the four Dora Milaje escorting her to stay in the jet. After all, T'Challa had brought them with him into the Compound, but what good did they do in the end? Miss Potts had thoroughly served him, bodyguards or not.

Friday was the one who received her: "Princess Shuri," she greeted professionally, "how was your flight?"

The question was cordial, but Friday's face was somewhat strained. Again, it probably had to do with Maximoff. From what little she could gather, Stark's daughter and the witch had not exactly been on friendly terms to begin with.

"It was pleasant, miss Stark, thank you," she simply replied, not giving anything away and not wanting to look like she was prying before even stepping into the Compound.

"Mr. Stark will receive you in his office," the young secretary said then, "if you would follow me..."

Friday turned and started leading the princess to Tony's office.

When she finally came face to face with the one and only Tony Stark, she felt a bit of uneasiness creeping down her spine.

His posture was strained, his face stern.

Not dissimilar to how Friday was earlier.

When he rose from his seat to greet her, he didn't smile.

"Princess Shuri. Please, take a seat," he said, extending his hand but not delving in any pleasantries.

Shuri shook his hand, bowing her head slightly in greeting, and sat down.

She didn't try to appear meek or submitted. She didn't try to fool him in any way. Stark was a man who appreciated sincerity and even bluntness in some occasions.

"So," the man started, sitting down and leaning forward, "I understand that you requested this meeting to discuss your brother's... involvement with former Captain Steve Rogers," he said, not in a friendly manner, but not overtly hostile either.

Shuri tilted her head: "In a way, yes. I have a proposal for you, Mr. Stark."

"Do tell," Tony prompted.

"As you know, Steve Rogers has been hiding in Wakanda for a period of time, along with his team. There is no point denying that now. I am told you have proof of that." Shuri responded, trying to be as cautious as possible.

"You'll have to forgive me, Princess, but with all due respect, Rogers wasn't simply in Wakanda. He was in your royal palace. Under your same roof." Tony retorted.

Shuri didn't flinch, continuing seriously: "That would be the case, yes. You have to understand, Mr. Stark, that the burden of the throne had just fell on my brother's shoulders, and that he was still mourning the loss of my father. He was under extreme duress when he made the decision of granting sanctuary to Rogers and the others."

At that, Tony deflated: "I do understand that, Princess. I myself have made some pretty rash decisions when confronted with the death of my parents..." he said, inviting her to continue.

Shuri smiled sadly: "My brother is a young king. Young and inexperienced. One thing that I find him struggling with is the ability to avoid falling back into a warrior's way of thinking when faced with political decisions. He is not only the King of Wakanda; he is also the Black Panther, Wakanda's warrior guide. It is difficult for him to bear all of this responsibility."

"I feel for your brother's plights, your Highness, but I still don't think they justify his actions," Tony interjected.

"They don't," Shuri agreed, "but he deserves the chance to try and be the good King he wants and strives to be. Which brings us back to the reason why I am here."

"You want me to forget about King T'Challa colluding with Rogers," Tony surmised bluntly.

"You're a businessman, Mr. Stark. I am merely offering to do business with you," Shuri countered, not letting Tony's words get to her.

Tony gave her an impressed look: "Very nice phrasing. Go on..."

Shuri smiled sadly again: "Ms Potts has been pretty straightforward with my brother: you are in possession of evidence of his... mistakes, shall we say. As I'm sure you can tell, going public with this evidence would not cause further damage to Rogers, or any of his followers. It would only damage my country, and my brother. His position as King would be severely undermined, and that is the last thing my country needs in this moment. Wakanda is transitioning out of an isolationism that has lasted for millennia, and not everyone is happy with such a radical change. There are plenty of people who'd rather we preserve the status quo. In this unstable situation, the consequences of such a scandal would be catastrophic, so for the sake of preventing a civil war that would tear my country apart... I want to buy that evidence. And I can offer payment in an extremely valuable currency."

"Vibranium," Tony guessed, "I figured that much."

"And are you willing to accept my proposal?" Shuri wanted to know.

Tony didn't answer immediately. It was a rather unique situation.

On one hand, Shuri was a very nice woman. She was wise and honest, two qualities that were extremely rare in a politician. Besides, she was just the messenger here. She was trying to remedy to her brother's mistakes. Tony knew very well how it was like to 'take one for the team'. He didn't want to antagonize her, she absolutely didn't deserve it.

On the other hand, T'Challa had been an absolute moron and a total dick. He had only pursued his personal agenda, never giving a fuck about the Accords that his father had fought so hard for, or about the good of his country, that was supposed to be his primary concern. He deserved to get burned a little.

He had mixed feelings about this. Especially because T'Challa hadn't had the balls to get there and negotiate in person, sending Shuri instead. Maybe Pepper scared him a bit too much, he thought.

When all was said and done, however, Shuri had brought up a fair point: he definitely could not spark a civil war in a foreign country just to get back at T'Challa. He just couldn't.

"How much vibranium are we talking about?" he asked Shuri in the end.

She turned the question back to him: "How much do you think would be an appropriate amount?"

Tony shrugged: "I don't know? A ton?"

Shuri made a face: "Would you settle for five hundred kilograms?"

"How about a thousand kilograms?" Tony retorted.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Stark," Shuri complimented, her tone and face a bit strained.

It crossed Tony's mind in that moment that he was coming off a bit like a greedy Westerner out to rob Wakanda of its goods. He had another idea, though: "Alright, let me sweeten the deal for you: I know that Wakanda is trying to get out of isolationism, and Stark Industries is one of the most globalized brands in the world. We can discuss future scientific and commercial partnerships between your country and my company, if you're interested." he proposed.

For the first time, Shuri was taken aback. She hadn't expected this.

She knew full well that Stark could just force her to give him his ton of vibranium if he wanted to. Instead, there he was extending an olive branch. And a pretty hefty olive branch too: with SI's help, Wakanda could really open itself to the world in a way that would take years, maybe decades, to achieve otherwise: "It is a very interesting proposal indeed, Mr. Stark. One that I will gladly accept." she said. She would be a fool not to take him up on such an offer.

Tony nodded, smiling: "Good. One ton of vibranium for King T'Challa's... dirty laundry, then?"

"We have a deal, Mr. Stark." Shuri agreed with a smile of her own.

It was in that moment that Friday's voice came from the phone on Tony's desk: "Boss? I'm sorry to interrupt your meeting, but Vision and Agent Carter are on their way back to the Compound. They will be landing shortly..."

The smile dropped from both Tony and Shuri's faces. "If you would excuse me, your Highness. Duty calls." he stated gravely.

"Of course," the princess replied, "we can discuss the details of our agreement at a later date. Thank you for your time, Mr. Stark," she said, rising from her seat and extending her hand.

Tony took it, standing up as well: "Always a pleasure, Princess Shuri."

"Likewise, Mr. Stark."

Tony watched her go. He didn't think T'Challa realized how lucky he was to have a sister like her.

By the time Vision finally arrived at the small private airport that the rogue Avengers were using as a base of operations after being called in by the Wasp and Agent Thirteen, the fire from the two helicopters that the Winter Soldier had destroyed had already died down almost completely. Inside one of the warehouses, Vision had found a man and a woman, both unconscious, but otherwise unhurt. The man matched the description of former SHIELD Agent Liam Edwards, and the woman turned out to be an ex-SHIELD agent as well, one Bridget Leary.

As he searched the facility for the fugitives, Agent Thirteen made contact. She and the Wasp had been involved in a scuffle with the Winter Soldier. Barnes had escaped, but Ms. Van Dyne was in pursuit, and Hank Pym had been apprehended. There had also been two casualties, both associates of Edwards and Leary's.

However, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson and Scott Lang were still nowhere to be found.

Vision and Sharon regrouped, before they returned to the Compound in the Avengers Quinjet with Edwards, Leary and Pym cuffed in the cargo hold.

They touched down just as the Wakandan royal jet was taking off from the adjacent helipad. Sharon briefly wondered how Tony's meeting with the Wakandan princess had gone, but then she remembered they had other things to worry about.

As they landed, they saw Tony approach the jet. As soon as the rear ramp was lowered, Tony stepped inside.

When he saw Tony, Hank immediately launched himself in a verbal assault: "Look at him, he thinks he's so cool! You think you've won, Stark? You will pay for this, I swear it!" he said.

Tony didn't even look his way: "What happened?" he asked instead, addressing Sharon.

"Hope and I arrived at the airport and found it on fire. Two helicopters had been blown up and there was a SHIELD Quinjet taking off. We decided to follow the aircraft and call Vision in to check the airport instead." Sharon answered.

"I arrived at the scene shortly thereafter and found Mr. Edwards and Ms. Leary in one of the buildings, unconscious," Vision supplied, pointing at the two. "Then Agent Carter called, informing me that she and Ms. Van Dyne had successfully captured Mr. Pym."

Hank scoffed and growled in his seat: "This is all your fault! You better watch your back, Stark!"

Again, he was completely ignored. Sharon resumed her report: "Apparently one of Pym's old contacts, an Oliver Caldwell, knew how to trigger the Winter Soldier. He betrayed Rogers and his minions and used Barnes to kidnap Pym, so he would have Pym particles to sell on the black market. He even killed one of his friends..."

Hearing this, Edwards and Leary froze: "Oliver killed Todd?" the woman asked.

"I'm afraid so, Miss Leary. I'm sorry," Sharon confirmed, giving the prisoner a sympathetic look.

Again, Hank seethed: "You idiots! You didn't even notice you had a traitor on your team all along!" he shouted to his old coworkers.

"And you did?" Edwards sneered in response, shaking his head.

Tony, Sharon and Vision tuned them out: "So what happened then?" Tony asked.

"Hope and I intercepted Caldwell and Barnes," Sharon explained, "Caldwell's dead, but Barnes is still on the run, albeit with Hope on his tail."

"So Barnes is still in Russian Terminator mode?"

"In all probability, yes." Sharon mused.

"What about Rogers and the rest of his cronies?" Tony asked then.

"Rogers and the rest of his cronies are going to kick your sorry ass, Stark! You're nothing in front of Captain America!" Hank yelled, only to be once again completely ignored.

"They left the airport before I arrived," Vision said, "I can only assume they are searching for Barnes."

"Yeah, I think so too," Sharon agreed, "Rogers tends to go off the rails if he thinks his precious Bucky is in danger..."

Tony looked pensive for a moment: "That means Hope could be in danger too... Rogers won't think twice to go through her to get to Barnes..."

"She deserves it!" Hank screeched, "That bitch needs a lesson!"

"Can one of you put a gag on him or something?" Leary asked the Avengers.

"We need to go," Tony decided, "If Rogers finds Barnes, Hope is gonna need backup. Get ready guys, we take off immediately. This could be where we put an end to Rogers' fuck-ups."

Hank again bristled: "So you're gonna hide behind your friends, huh? You don't have the balls to face Cap on your own, do you!? You're a coward, Stark!"

"What do we do with these guys?" Sharon asked, finally giving Hank some attention.

Tony smiled, beckoning towards the ramp of the jet with his head. As he did that, Isaiah Bradley, the US Sokovia Accords representative, entered the aircraft followed by several men wearing an FBI badge.

"All yours, Delegate Bradley," Tony smiled, "You might wanna gag that one, he's pretty loud," he said, pointing to Hank while winking to Leary.

"Fuck you, Stark!" Hank yelled. Despite the situation she was in, Leary smiled back to Tony.

"Thank you for the advice, Mr. Stark. And great job, to you and the Avengers," Bradley complimented, as his men approached the three prisoners and started reading them their rights.

"Thanks, Bradley. Hopefully by the end of the day we'll get some more results," Tony smiled.

As Pym was manhandled out of the jet, he was spewing insults, threats and accusations left and right. In much the same predicament, Edwards and Leary were silent, and only had an overwhelmed and grave expression adorning their faces. But Edwards also looked oddly determined.

He called Tony: "Hey, Stark?"

Tony turned to him.

"Kick that star-spangled bastard's ass," he said.

Tony just smiled at him as Edwards was forced out of the plane.

Bucky - or was he the Winter Soldier? He didn't even know anymore, in his frazzled and precarious state of mind - had walked all night and morning. He was now in the outskirts of Philadelphia.

To his left, on the other side of the road, was a small diner.

It was open. There were some people inside having breakfast.

He scowled at the people inside the windows with a murderous expression for a good five minutes, trying to figure out if this was a good idea.

The other guys were not enemies... Steve had said they were not enemies...

Maybe they could help...

No...

He couldn't be sure...

There was no guarantee that they wouldn't try and put him back on the chair... He was not going back on the chair!

He needed some leverage.

He walked resolutely up to the diner and entered. The soft clinking of the doorbell as he pushed the door open nearly made him jump out of his skin.

Shrunken down and unseen, the Wasp flew inside the diner right behind him.

An attractive blonde waitress greeted him with a smile as he approached the counter: "Hello," she chirped. Then, her smile was replaced by a worried and confused expression when he didn't speak and just scowled at her.

A cook approached them, wiping his hands on a towel. He had the same confused expression as the waitress: "You ok, man?" he asked.

Bucky pulled out his gun and shot once at the ceiling.

Hell broke loose. Customers and waiters screamed in terror, some rushing chaotically for the exit, others cowering under the tables. The waitress and cook on the other side of the counter froze in absolute fear.

Wasp grimaced, recovering from the initial shock. She quickly pondered her options: having been shrunken down all night, she was almost out of particles. She couldn't attack Barnes now, not with these people trapped inside the diner.

She cursed, activating her comm: "Guys, this is getting ugly. Barnes is unhinged, he's just sieged a diner, we have multiple hostages. Converge on my position immediately. And hurry up, I'm running low on particles," she said.

Not having heard Wasp's call for backup, Bucky lowered his gun, pointing it at the poor waitress who had backed herself against the far wall behind the counter and was now looking at him like a deer caught in headlights: "Please... please, don't shoot me! We've only just started the day, the cash register is almost empty! We only have... Oh God, please, no..." she blabbed incoherently.

"I am the Winter Soldier," Barnes growled, making her eyes bulge in fear even more, "and I want to speak with Tony Stark."

with worried glances.

When Bucky had kidnapped Hank, to cover his escape he had also destroyed the two helicopters that Edwards and his team had at their disposal, and had stolen the Quinjet. He had done a good job, making sure that Steve and the others couldn't follow him.

That had left Steve with only one option: he had had to take a car.

Acting only on instinct and desperation while Bucky's Quinjet disappeared in the distance, he had run outside, looking for anything he could use.

There were two old vans and a pickup truck left at the airport in that moment, since Edwards' SUV was missing along with his two friends. One of the vans had been caught by the flames of the burning helicopters, and the pickup truck meant that they would have had to put Sam and Scott's not really inconspicuous gear in plain sight in the flatbed. So Steve had herded a still dazed Sam in the remaining van, then he had gone back to retrieve Scott and their gear. He had unceremoniously thrown both the still unconscious man and all their equipment in the back of the van and had driven off as fast as he could in the direction the Quinjet had taken.

He had driven all night, probably hoping to find Bucky just with his instinct and hope. Sam had tried to tell him it wouldn't work, that Bucky could be anywhere at this point, but Steve didn't listen. When Sam had insisted, Steve had harshly told him to shut up.

A while later, Scott woke up too. He asked what was going on, but Steve was too shaken to answer him. It was Sam who told him what had happened, in soft, carefully chosen words, mindful of not angering Steve further. In the back of his mind, Steve felt both grateful for Sam's tact and sorry for yelling at him, but he didn't say anything. He was too focused on Bucky.

When Sam was done bringing him up to speed, Scott panicked: "Oh God, Hank... We have to find them!" he exclaimed, eyes slightly unfocused, "If Barnes kidnapped Hank, he might hurt him-"

He had just said the wrong thing at the wrong moment. Steve stomped on the brake pedal with both feet. When the van came to a stop, he turned to Scott: "What did you just say!?" he barked, glaring daggers at the smaller man.

Scott stuttered, scared by the outburst: "I... I mean, I wasn't trying to say... It's just... Look, if they used Barnes to kidnap Hank, they might use him to-"

"Exactly," Steve interrupted him, "they used him. He's not in his right mind. That's not Bucky, that's the Winter Soldier! Is that clear!?"

Scott withdrew even more: "I'm sorry, Cap... It's just... Hank is in danger, and he's been like a mentor to me, and... I didn't mean to say-"

"Bucky is in danger too!" Steve snapped, "so don't you dare badmouth him and try to justify yourself saying you're confused because someone you care for is in danger! I'm in your exact same situation, don't you forget it!" he yelled.

Scott backpedaled almost to the back doors of the van, cowering under Steve's gaze. The supersoldier glared at him a few moments more before slowly turning around and getting the van to move again.

A good ten minutes passed in absolute silence before Scott tentatively came forward again: "Jeez, man... I'm sorry... Please, don't be mad at me, I'm still new to this gig..." he said in the end, putting a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve didn't even acknowledge him.

Hours later, at the crack of dawn, Steve had finally admitted defeat and pulled over at the side of a secondary and deserted road, shaken, frustrated and enraged at whoever had done this to bucky yet again.

He got out of the van and started pacing. He still couldn't wrap his head around it.

What the heck had happened? How had they triggered the Winter Soldier again? And most importantly, where were they?

For the umpteenth time, he tried to take a deep breath and assess the situation once again.

Edwards had gone ballistic moments before Bucky's attack, saying that two of his teammates were missing along with Bucky. Maybe Steve should have brought him along instead of just taking Sam and Scott. He could have had some ideas on how to find his friends.

Because if that was really the Winter Soldier that had attacked them, then it was clear that Caldwell and Sutherland were the ones who had triggered him.

Those bastards were Hydra.

And maybe Edwards and Leary were too.

Steve returned to the van half thinking of going back to the airport and see if Edwards and Leary were still there. If they really were Hydra, they were gonna face the wrath of Captain America. He was not going to have the wool pulled over his face by some Nazi scum aagain.

But then the radio spoke.

"Breaking news: the infamous Hydra assassin known as the Winter Soldier, who had gone into hiding in the wake of the Avengers Civil War, has abruptly resurfaced today in the city of Philadelphia, sieging a diner and taking eight people hostage."

Steve felt the blood run cold in his veins. He stared at the radio in horror, jerkily turning up the volume.

The announcer kept talking in a calm voice: "Our correspondent, Mitch Watkins, has just arrived on the scene. Mitch?"

"Yes, Clay," a new voice spoke, "the police is obviously already on site and is evacuating the area. Both the Avengers and the military have been alerted, although for now, the intentions of the Winter Soldier remain unknown."

Steve felt his throat close up at the mention of the Avengers being called in.

Are they insane!? Tony tried to kill bucky in Siberia! What are they thinking, calling him to arrest Bucky!?

"Can you see the diner?" they heard the announcer ask.

"I can't," the guy called Mitch answered, "everybody has been asked to move away to a pretty considerable distance. The police has cleared an area of four blocks to allow the Avengers room to move-"

Steve started the engine. Sam and Scott were saying something, but he didn't hear a single word. The tires of the van screeched as he floored the accelerator towards Philadelphia.

Tony eyed Friday's armor curiously as they boarded the Quinjet: "Is that a new suit?" he asked.

"Yep. Lady Iron Mark 2," Friday replied airily, "I've codenamed it 'Stinger'."

"Stinger? Like the missile?"

Friday gave him a look: "Not exactly. It's a surprise," she said simply.

Tony didn't question her further while he got into his own, dark blue armor. This could be where 'Sweet Revenge' really earned its name.

As they boarded the jet, where Sharon and Vision were waiting for them, Tony grew serious: "Sit rep," he asked.

"Barnes has moved to the kitchen of the diner with all the hostages. No windows, two doors in: one from the diner itself and one from the back alley," Sharon reported, "Hope is in the room and in radio contact, but she's low on particles. She thinks she can hold position for another twenty to twenty-five minutes, maximum."

"What's our ETA?" Tony asked.

"About ten minutes," Sharon answered.

"Good. Tell Hope to disengage as soon as we arrive," Tony ordered.

"Are you sure? We have time to attack before she runs out... If she disengages we lose our eyes and ears on Barnes," Sharon pointed out.

"We'll use the infrared scanners if we have to. I won't risk Hope running out of particles and growing to full size out of nowhere in front of an already spooked Winter Soldier," Tony replied, "How many hostages?"

"Eight," Sharon replied without pushing the argument further, "the cook, a waitress and six customers."

"I think it goes without saying that they are our priority," Tony said, taking a deep breath, "Friday, I'm going to send you in first. He asked to speak with me, but I don't trust myself not to shoot his head off as soon as I see his ugly mug. And with hostages around, it might get messy."

Friday nodded gravely.

As the Quinjet took off, two women watched it leave from the tarmac.

"Be careful, Tony," Pepper whispered.

Natasha lowered her gaze: "I never thought I would be in this situation, you know?" she told Pepper, "waiting helplessly at home hoping for my friends to come back in one piece..."

Pepper kept staring at the sky as the Quinjet disappeared in the distance, seemingly so lost in thought that Natasha became unsure if she had heard her.

Despite all the months that had passed, Pepper and Natasha still hadn't cleared the air between them after the Civil War. Partly because they were rarely in the same areas of the Compound, despite both of them living in it, and partly because they had been avoiding each other to some extent.

Finally, Pepper spoke: "It's hard," she agreed, "even more so because there is simply nothing I can do. But Tony... being Iron Man is what he is. It's like he's born for it, and I've come to accept that I can't change that. And Friday... she's her father's daughter, through and through. But they have each other's back, that makes me feel a little bit better. Knowing they can count on each other and on their team."

At Pepper's jab, Natasha turned to look at her feet. She was expecting some harshness from the other redhead, not that it wasn't undeserved. All that was happening, it was because she had stabbed Tony in the back in Germany. She only had herself to blame for her current predicament.

"They make a very good team," she said in the end with a small voice, "much better that the old one."

Pepper took that phrase for what it was: an apology. An acknowledgement of how this new team was doing right by Tony where the original Avengers never had. She didn't answer, but she nodded, acknowledging the apology.

Natasha felt a tiny bit better as they finally headed back inside to join Rhodey, who was already monitoring the mission from the base.

It had been just forty-two minutes since the Winter Soldier had holed himself up in the diner with his hostages. The police had already formed a perimeter, four blocks around the diner, so that the Avengers could fight without the risk of causing casualties. There was quite a big crew forming around the area, but on the inside of the police's barricade, the scenery was that of a post-apocalyptic ghost city. Not a single person could be seen on the streets, or inside the buildings.

Sharon landed the jet in a parking lot right in front of the diner Barnes was in. The Quinjet was a stealth plane, so silent that there was a good chance he hadn't heard them coming, and with the kitchen having no windows, he couldn't have seen them either.

They were also far enough away from the safety perimeter that the massive crowd of onlookers would most likely not be able to see what was going on.

As the ramp lowered and they all disembarked, Hope grew to full size right in front of them: "Thank God, just in time," she said, "I was really running out of juice back there..."

Friday, already clad in her armor, smirked in response: "I've brought you some extra fuel," she said, holding up a sophisticated looking briefcase. Hope took it and opened it, revealing six vials of Pym Particles.

As soon as Hope had equipped the particles on the regularor in the belt of her suit, Tony immediately took command: "Alright, let's get this show on the road. Friday, it's your turn. Keep the comms open at all times when you go in. And be careful, baby girl," he recommended.

Friday only nodded once, before turning on her heels and heading for the diner.

Her helmet came up right before she entered. From there, she moved towards the kitchen.

"James Barnes!" she called as she arrived at the door.

Nobody answered.

When Friday tried the door, she found it unlocked. She pushed it open to reveal what her infrared scanners were already showing her: Barnes was in the center of the room, holding a terrified waitress in front of him as a human shield, his metal arm around her neck and a gun pointed to her temple. The other hostages were sitting against the right wall, cowering in fear.

Friday held her hand up, pointing the repulsor at Barnes, as her suit scanned him looking for the best way to neutralize the threat. She felt anger surging through her as she came face to face with the Winter Soldier for the very first time.

This was the man for which Rogers had caused all the Civil War circus. This was the man that helped nearly kill Boss in Siberia.

This was the man who had killed Boss' parents. Her own grandparents.

Boss had sent her in first because he didn't trust himself not to hurt him - or worse - as soon as he saw him. Friday understood his concern a lot better now. Maybe some of it was residual anger from stopping Wanda's plans not seven hours earlier, but in that moment, she herself wanted to ram her armored fist through his teeth.

She was distracted from her violent fantasies by one of the hostages, a little girl who was sitting against the wall next to her mother. The girl pointed excitedly at her: "Mommy, look! Lady Iron! This bad man is done for!" she exclaimed excited.

Barnes growled, unsettled by the girl's statement. The waitress in his clutches let out a scared whine as tears started running down her face.

Friday tried to calm her first: "What's your name, miss?" she asked the poor waitress, nodding in her direction.

"C-Carly," the girl managed to answer.

"Don't worry, Carly. He's not gonna hurt you," Friday assured her, "right, Barnes?"

The soldier was losing his patience: "I asked to speak with Tony Stark," he growled, "who the hell are you!?"

"Are you deaf or something? One of your hostages just called me Lady Iron," Friday deadpanned, "But since you're probably looking for a more thorough answer..."

Friday let her helmet retract and collapse into her suit, revealing her face: "My name is Friday Ana Stark. I am Tony Stark's daughter."

Both Barnes and the hostages stared at her as if she had grown a second head. Over the comms, the Avengers made various exclamations of surprise: Friday's identity was a secret, and she had just casually revealed it!

Tony, however, sounded amused: "You sure are, baby girl," he said.

Among the hostages, the little girl whispered: "Iron Man's daughter! That is so cool! I can't wait to tell my friends!"

Friday glanced her way and winked at her, smiling for a moment before going serious again as her gaze went back on Barnes. Despite having appeared without her helmet on every possible newspaper, television channel and social media on Earth not too long ago, her true identity was still a secret. But she reckoned it would be a good way to throw Barnes off his game right now. Boss must have figured that too, judging by his reaction.

Barnes had killed two members of her family. He had nearly killed Boss too. She fully intended to get back at him in every way she could think of.

Barnes tried to recover: "I want to speak with your father," he repeated, "Bring him here!"

"My father doesn't give a damn about what you want, and taking a few hostages is not going to make him more inclined to speak with you," Friday growled back at him, "But you have his attention. He's outside, waiting with the rest of the Avengers. If you want to talk to him, all you have to do is release the hostages and surrender."

"We both know that's not gonna happen," Barnes seethed, "so cut the crap, honey. Get Stark here! Now!"

"Or else what? You're gonna shoot her?" Friday asked calmly, nodding towards the waitress, Carly. "Let me tell you how that would work out: my suit is designed to have instantaneous reaction times. As soon as I see your finger start to tighten on the trigger, I will target your throat with a repulsor blast strong enough to cut all the way through your neck and sever your spinal cord. It won't matter how fast you can pull that trigger, I am faster. Supersoldier or not, you will be dead from the neck down before ever managing to shoot that gun," Friday threatened, her voice and facial expression showing that she meant every single word, "Then I will ask Carly here to bring me an Earl Grey while we wait for the proper authorities to come and collect your corpse. Nobody else will die today. Only you."

Barnes didn't answer, clearly stunned. Friday's face darkened even more as she narrowed her eyes ominously: "Now, let the hostages go and surrender. I won't ask nicely again."

Barnes was clearly scared. His gun was wavering and his stance was getting sloppier. He tried to cover himself better with the human shield represented by Carly, but obtained the opposite result.

Then Friday's helmet unfolded back out of the armor, wrapping her head, and her hand repulsor charged. Hearing the familiar, dreaded whine of Iron Man's signature weapon charging up, Barnes lost it.

In a mad rush of panic, he tried to point his gun at Friday. The girl reacted instantly, as she had promised she would, only in a less lethal way.

A small compartment opened up on her shoulder and fired a small tranquillizer dart at Barnes' hand, the one holding the gun. It struck the nerve, and the gun immediately fell from his hand. At the same time, Friday shot her repulsor clean through his left shoulder, destroying all the wiring connecting the bionic arm to the nerves of the stump.

Carly let out a scared yelp, but Bucky was already stumbling back, completely stunned. His left, metal arm had fallen limp at his side, and while the tranquillizer wasn't strong enough to drop him, he already couldn't feel his right hand anymore.

Scared probably more than Carly was, he cradled his right arm against his chest as he tried to regroup and find a way counterattack. But Lady Iron was on him immediately, pressing her advantage.

She punched him so hard in the face that she broke his nose, then she grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the far wall.

"Everybody out!" Friday shouted to the hostages. They took less than ten seconds to flee the room. The little girl cheered "Go, Lady Iron!" she exclaimed as she was ushered out by her mother.

Bucky tried to kick her legs out from under her, but Friday sidestepped him and took off, lifting them both about a foot in the air, before she charged the repulsor around his throat: "Do that again, and I will take your head off. I mean it, Barnes. Don't try me."

The Winter Soldier's eyes darted frantically in every direction, trying to find something, some way to extricate himself. But there was no way out.

He was defeated.

His eyes started welling up with tears: "Please... Please, don't put me back in the chair... Please, I'm sorry... Oh God, I'm so sorry... Please..."

Friday knew what he was talking about. The chair was a torture device Hydra had used to indoctrinate him.

Barnes was delirious. He probably thought she was one of his handlers.

There was no point dragging this on. Still holding him by the throat, she shot four more tranq darts on his chest and made him lose concsciousness, finally putting him out of his misery.

"Any update on the situation, Mitch?" Steve heard the broadcaster ask over the radio.

"None, Clay," the correspondent answered, "we've seen the Avengers jet arrive on the scene approximately ten minutes ago, but so far we haven't seen any movement... Hold on, I'm getting something..."

Steve's heart was in his throat, and beating a mile a minute. The anguish he felt in that moment was physically painful.

Mitch's voice came up again: "Yes, so, I'm being confirmed that all the hostages have been freed and are being currently tended to by the police and paramedics, though none of them appears to be hurt. We still have no information about the Winter... Wait, Clay, something else is happening, there's a van charging towards... Oh my God!"

Steve was in sight of the police barricade now. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, aiming for a spot where the crowd was spread out more thinly. People ran out of the way as he crashed against the back of a police car, ramming it out of the way and powering through the blockade.

The radio was still blaring with the reporter's voice: "Clay, this is unbelievable! An old van has just smashed through the perimeter set by the police! I can't believe what I'm seeing!"

"Is anyone hurt?" the broadcaster asked worriedly.

"No, not that I can see... Clay, this is complete chaos! I'm not sure what-"

Steve punched the radio on the dashboard, shattering it with a single blow, as he drove on. But the van had taken a serious hit: the front bumper was dragging against the tarmac on the right side where the van had hit the police car, he right headlight, the front grille and most importantly the radiator had been completely smashed by the impact.

The van exhaled its last breath a few hundred yards into the red zone. Steve turned to his companions, without noticing their scared and completely flustered expressions: "We need to find Bucky and get the hell outta here," he barked, "watch out for the Avengers, don't engage unless it's absolutely necessary! Sam, take to the skies! I want eyes in the air! Scott, we need a diversion! Go!" he said. Then, without even waiting for them to acknowledge him, he pushed the driver door open, so hard that it tore clean off its hinges and landed a few feet away, on the sidewalk.

Scott jumped out from the back of the van, almost scared of not being fast enough in carrying out his orders. Sam on the other hand, hesitated for a good half minute, looking down at his shoes with a hard, thoughtful expression on his face, before taking a deep breath and finally getting out of the destroyed van.

This was not what he had signed up for. Steve was... He was slipping.

They were supposed to help people, not nearly running them over with a van to save one person.

He leisurely put on his winged jetpack and took off. He spotted the Avengers Quinjet almost immediately.

For the first time in a long time, he knew what he had to do.

It was obvious that the Avengers had been notified of the breech in the perimeter as soon as it had happened. When Sam landed in front of them, he wasn't surprised to find them ready to meet him. Stark had a hand raised and pointed at him, repulsor already charged. Steve's girl (Huh. Steve's girl was with the Avengers. She must have come to his same realization, only much earlier than him) had two guns drawn and pointed at him too. The Wasp was glaring at him, her forearms crackling with electricity. Vision was floating threateningly about a foot off the ground. They had probably guessed who was in the van.

"Sam, what's the situation? Sam? Sam, come in!" came Steve's voice in his earpiece. Sam took it off and stomped down on it, crushing it completely and grinding his foot on it viciously.

"I surrender," was all he said, folding his wings back into the suit, raising his hands and getting down on his knees.

The Avengers did not lower their weapons for a long moment, then Vision spoke: "This is the first wise decision I've seen you make, Mr. Wilson," he said, walking up to him and helping him up before cuffing his hands behind his back.

"Where's Rogers, Sam?" Tony asked.

"He's here. We just barged through the perimeter. He wants to find Bucky," Sam answered without raising his eyes to meet Tony's.

"Well then, that means we don't have to go looking for him," a new voice piped up. Sam turned towards it, and saw Lady Iron walk calmly towards the group, dragging an unconscious Bucky by the scruff. "He'll come to us," the girl added.

Sam didn't say anything. Honestly, he wasn't surprised the Avengers had already handled the Winter Soldier.

He was escorted to the Quinjet and secured to a seat next to the rear ramp. Bucky was put on the seat opposite to him on the other side of the plane, only he was tied to it with heavy duty manacles.

Tony walked up to the ramp: "What about the other idiot, Lang?" he asked Sam. "Is he here too?"

As if on cue, before Sam could answer, Scott grew to giant size approximately a block away. From his vantage inside the Quinjet, Sam could only partially see him, but Scott looked around for a moment and then evidently spotted the Avengers' aircraft.

"Ah, there you are!" they heard Scott say, as the gargantuan renegade started slowly walking towards them.

Tony turned back to Sam, absolutely unimpressed: "Never mind. We found him," he deadpanned, "Sharon, watch them. We're going to take care of this idiot, real quick."

Sharon hummed in agreement, getting into the jet and closing the ramp for safety.

Outside, Tony watched Lang slowly come forward. Seriously, didn't this guy realize that when he was giant he moved like a beached whale? There was way too much mass to manage any agile movement.

It was Friday who spoke next: "I believe this is the perfect opportunity to see if we did a good job on our gear, wouldn't you say, Hope?" she asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Wasp answered, "I've been waiting for this exact moment for quite a while."

"Um... what are you up to, ladies?" Tony asked, perplexed by the impromptu exchange.

Friday smiled at him and turned to Hope: "Shall we?" she smiled, lifting her right arm as a piece of plating on her armor's vambrace opened up, revealing some sort of miniaturized rail catapult, similar to those used on aircraft carriers to launch jet fighters. Hope smiled back before shrinking down and landing on the small metal contraption.

"Hope and I have been working together on our gear recently," Friday said casually to Tony and Vision, who were slightly taken aback by the sudden development.

Tony was pretty surprised. Then he finally made the connection: "Oooh, Stinger!" he exclaimed.

"Stinger?" asked Vision.

"My new armour," Friday supplied, "It's codenamed 'Stinger'."

"Because it's designed to work in tandem with the Wasp, who has electric stingers! Clever!" Tony chimed.

Friday's smile grew wider: "I've had to sacrifice one of the forearm missile launchers, but I think it's worth it," she explained.

Tony inclined his head in agreement. When Barton had shot Lang inside his armor at Leipzig, for a moment Tony hadn't gotten a clue of what was going on. Then when he and Hope had fought Barton and Maximoff in San Francisco, the witch hadn't even had the time to realize what had hit her before dropping. Hope and Friday had had a very good idea, refining the technique.

A light jolt of the ground brought his attention back to the advancing giant. At this point he was so close that every step he took, he made the ground shake like a T-rex from Jurassic Park.

He turned to Friday: "Do you need a diversion?"

"It wouldn't hurt," Friday confirmed.

"Vision, let's go," Tony ordered then.

As Iron Man and Vision engaged Giant Man, Friday took off and landed on a rooftop just to her left. Giant Man was trying to swat his assailants like mosquitoes, but he was laughably slow. He would never be able to catch them. Still, it would probably be best to stop him before he stepped on a parked car or, worse, a nearby house.

She raised her arm and aimed for Lang's belt, where the particle regulator was: "You ready, Tinkerbell?" she asked Hope.

"Born ready, Leeloo," Hope answered.

Tony and Vision managed to maneuver Lang so he was facing her, giving her a clean shot: "Let's see how you like it when somebody gets in your suit," Friday seethed, releasing the catapult.

Hope was propelled towards the target at a speed she would never be able to achieve using her own suit's propulsion system. She had enough momentum to punch through the metallic casing of the regulator and get to the mechanisms inside.

Two seconds later, Scott shrank back to his normal size.

"What?" he squeaked, pushing the buttons on his hands frantically, as if that would somehow jumpstart his suit.

Hope grew back to her normal size right in front of him a moment later: "Hi, Scott," she greeted casually. One after the other the Avengers landed around him.

Now Lang was scared: "W-wait... I-" he stumbled, jerking his head around looking at each of his opponents.

"Bye, Scott," Hope added, before electrocuting him with her stingers. He seized for a good five seconds before dropping to the ground, still twitching a little. Hope was quick to grab Scott's broken regulator and yank it off his belt, together with his reservoir of particles.

"Pathetic moron," she hissed to herself, before turning to her team: "Ok, he's disarmed."

"It works, doesn't it?" Friday considered, showing her forearm to Hope.

"Flawlessly," Hope agreed, smiling.

"Bitchin'. Three down," Tony replied lightly, but then his face darkened as he turned towards the Quinjet behind him, "only one to go."

Steve's hands were shaking.

He could feel so much adrenaline pumping through his veins that in the back of his mind, he briefly wondered if he could have a heart attack despite the serum.

Sam and Scott were not answering to the comms. Had they been captured too?

He could barely think straight. He was scared, angry, desperate...

He couldn't think about Sam and Scott right now. He had to deal with one problem at a time. First, he had to find Bucky.

He had to find Bucky. He needed to.

He flattened himself against a wall and peeked his head over the corner. The Avengers Quinjet was there, ramp closed. Nobody seemed to be around.

"Looking for someone?" a voice behind him said, making Steve nearly jump out of his skin. So much for nobody being around.

He turned so fast his neck hurt. Tony's new female sidekick was there. Iron Maiden, or something like that.

He didn't have time to waste. If she was there, Tony could not be far behind. He had to move fast: "Where's Bucky? What did you do to him!?"

"You know, I couldn't help but notice how you asked about Barnes, but you can't be bothered to ask about Lang and Wilson," another voice came from behind him.

Again, Steve's head jerked in the opposite direction: Hank's traitorous daughter, Wasp, was there. Through his increasing fear of being stalled long enough for Iron Man to arrive, Steve scowled at her: "And I couldn't help but notice that you didn't answer my question..."

"Sargeant Barnes has been apprehended," yet another voice said. Vision landed gracefully to his right: "He's in the Quinjet, restrained and unconscious, along with your two teammates, Mr. Rogers."

Steve felt the urge to correct him, saying 'Captain Rogers', but he didn't say anything. He had to find a way to get to that jet and get his friends out. God, he had to move...

"I know what you're thinking," the Iron girl said, "Maybe if I make a run for it, I have a chance. Let me tell you: you really don't. It's over, Rogers. You'd better surrender now, before-"

She cut herself off as Iron Man landed in a crouch right in front of Steve.

"Oops. Too late," the girl cackled.

Steve was frozen by fear.

Tony's suit was different from his previous armors: it was painted a dark, metallic blue, with a silver faceplate and silver stripes on his chest and shoulders. It resembled his own, stealth uniform from his days at SHIELD, and Steve had no doubt that Tony had built that suit specifically to fight against him. But the most ominous part was the light of the various reactors and eye slits on it: instead of the usual light blue, they were glowing a fiery, dangerous orange.

That thing looked mean.

"Tony," Steve tried, but Tony didn't seem to be in a talking mood, as he straightened up and started walking menacingly up to him.

But Steve would not be intimidated (who was he kidding, he was trembling like a leaf and just about to wet himself in fear), as he drew back into a fighting stance and activated his magnetic shield.

He never stood a chance.

Tony was unbelievably fast, and monstrously powerful. In two minutes flat, Steve was on the ground, bleeding from his mouth and nose, his left forearm fractured where Tony had crushed the gauntlet with the mag-shield around it, disabling his only defensive weapon.

At this point Steve was absolutely panicking, but he slowly and shakily got to his feet. Tony was standing in fromt of him, silent and completely unfazed. His suit didn't even have a single chip in the paint.

Despite everything, Steve felt a surge of anger: "You think you're so tough!?" he yelled, "You would be nothing without that suit!"

That caused a reaction that Steve would never have expected: Tony stood silent a few moments more, then his armor opened and he stepped out of it. He didn't say anything, just staring at him with an expression of pure rage etched on his features.

Steve was sure that one of the blows he'd taken had somehow addled his brain. He knew he wasn't thinking straight, because he was clearly hallucinating. Tony's eyes were glowing orange like the reactors and eyes of his suit.

In another occasion he would never have hit Tony out of his suit, but in that moment, Tony was probably thinking he had weakened him enough that he could take him on even out of the armor.

Steve felt his panic be replaced by anger. I'll show you, rich boy!

He swinged his punch right at Tony's face. It was probably enough to kill him, but Steve didn't care.

Tony caught it.

He caught it!

Steve stared incredulously, as Tony retaliated with a punch of his own, strong enough to send Steve flying against a wall twenty feet behind him.

What!?

Tony walked up to him. Again, Steve tried to attack, and again, Tony parried him effortlessly. Then, it was over.

Steve reeled in absolute shock, and Tony started to veritably smash him with a barrage of blows, each hitting him so hard that the wall behind him was starting to crack. Then, with a final punch to the face, the wall finally gave, and Steve found himself looking at a ceiling just inside a room, covered in bits of bricks and cement mortar.

"Look at you, buster," Tony sneered. Steve painfully managed to raise his head and look at him through the breech in the wall, his expression absolutely gobsmacked. What just happened!?

Tony shook his head and turned around: "Get him," he ordered to his team, walking away.

Vision and the Iron dame moved forward towards him. Oh God... This is it...

Desperate and blind with rage and anguish, Steve tried one last time to struggle against them as they hoisted him up, but the girl was having none of it. Her armored punch hit his temple with the force of a battering ram.

Steve's world went black.

When Steve came to his senses, he found himself tied up to a seat of the Quinjet with heavy duty manacles he couldn't possibly hope to break.

He was scared. And for quite a lot of different reasons.

He was scared for Bucky, who was sitting across from him, tied with the same oversized restraints, and still unconscious. For a dreadful moment Steve had feared the worst, before noticing the stable rise and fall of his chest, indicating he was still breathing.

Tony had taken Bucky alive. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad news.

He was scared for Sam, who was tied to the seat right next to his. They had used normal cuffs on him, but they were more than enough to keep an unenhanced man at bay. Sam's expression was weirdly serene, although for some reason he was stubbornly refusing to turn and face Steve. The supersoldier couldn't understand why.

He was scared for Scott, who was practically panicking in his seat, next to Bucky: he was there, breathing heavily, his eyes wild and moist with unshed tears. He had tried speaking with Van Dyne, to ask about Hank, but the woman had just sent him a withering glare that had effectively shut him up.

Hope Van Dyne was another reason Steve was scared: this woman had turned her back to her own father, joining Tony instead. Now she was just standing there, admiring her handiwork without a single hint of regret. Was she really okay with what was happening?

She was clearly pissed, yet she looked perfectly poised. Her demeanor reminded Steve a bit of Natasha.

God knew where Nat was. Steve was worried about her too.

Another thing that scared him was how neither Tony nor his sidekick girl had taken off their armors. Just like Van Dyne, they were standing there, helmets off but clearly ready to fight at any moment, scowling at them, him and Bucky specifically.

Vision was there too, and while his expression not as hard as those of his teammates, it was serious enough that Steve knew if he tried anything, the android wouldn't hesitate to counterattack.

Then there were all sorts of other worries. Clint and Wanda, for example: where were they? What had Tony done to them?

What had he done to Hank Pym?

How could he not understand, not see what he was doing, working with these politicians and paper-pushers?

But the thing that scared him the most, that absolutley terrified him, was that now Tony had won and they had lost. They were completely at his mercy.

Tony had even defeated him in combat, and he had ultimately done so without even using the suit. He had enhanced himself, somehow.

Steve couldn't believe that Tony had been so petty as to come up with a way to become physically stronger just to defeat him. But, pettiness or not, the fact remained that he had won. If he was truly so angry that he had gone as far as to enhance himself in order to defeat and capture them, there was no telling what he would do now that he had done so.

Siberia came back to Steve's mind: Tony's expression in the final moment, the utter, absolute, unyelding rage on his face... that was the stuff of nightmares. Steve knew he would never be able to forget it.

And now...

Now Tony had all the power, and they had none.

It shook Steve to the bone just to think what he was plotting.

Finally, the jet started its descent. Less than a minute later, they landed and the rear ramp started to be lowered. As Van Dyne uncuffed his ankles from the jet seat, Steve casually glanced in the direction of the cockpit. He hadn't bothered to look in the direction of the cockpit during the flight, but now he could see who had flown them back to the Avengers Compound, as the pilot joined the Avengers in the rear of the plane.

And when Steve saw who it was, betrayal churned his guts.

"Sharon?" he asked in a small voice.

Sharon was working with Tony.

No, steve thought, that's impossible...

Tony had managed to take even that from him. He had taken even his last connection to Peggy...

He had turned Sharon against him...

How was that possible? She was Peggy's niece! How could she do this? How could she work with Tony!?

What about her speech at Peggy's funeral!? Did Peggy's words mean nothing to her!?

Her expression was serious. Angry, even.

The betrayal quickly turned into rage.

What gives you the right to be angry, you backstabbing broad!?

"You little..." he started to say as he stood up and moved towards her, with every intention to hurt her. He knew Tony and the others would stop him before he could, but in that moment he just wanted to get back at her for her betrayal, he didn't care how. He'd take what he could get, even if it was just a scared expression. Even if it only lasted a few moments.

But Sharon didn't look intimidated. Quite the opposite, in fact.

As soon as he was in front of her, she swinged a kick right between his legs, as hard as she could.

Pain exploded in his groin, and Steve dropped to his knees. Immediately, Tony grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back, pointing his other palm to his face, repulsor charged: "You better stop being difficult, Rogers. I've already had a shitty night, and the morning hasn't been much better, thanks to you. Don't play with what little patience I have left."

Steve knew he couldn't do anything. Swallowing his rage, he just closed his eyes in submission: "Okay..." he said with a soft voice.

"Miserable poser," he heard Sharon hiss as she walked past him and out of the jet.

Steve bristled, but when Tony tightened the hold in his hair, he swallowed again and didn't say anything.

Scott knew this part. He'd been in this situation before.

Exactly the same script every time. They had taken him to a dimly lit interrogation room and left him there alone for more than an hour.

He would have loved to be able to say this tactic didn't work on him anymore, but actually... it did. Scott felt like he could faint from fear at any moment.

Finally, after nearly an hour and fifteen minutes, the door opened, and Hope strolled into the room, followed by a young girl with red hair who weirdly reminded him of Tony Stark. She had Stark's eyes, Scott noticed as they sat across from him.

Scott lost no time, immediately trying to appeal to his girlfriend: "Hope-" he called in a begging tone, but she immediately stopped him, holding up a hand and sending him another scathing glare, just like she had on the plane.

Scott knew that when Hope was this mad, he'd better shut the fuck up. And that was exactly what he did.

"Here's what's gonna happen," Hope started, her tone cold as ice and her expression vaguely murderous, "the proper authorities are going to ship your sorry ass to prison as soon as I'm done talking to you. Once there, you're going to be contacted by my lawyers."

Scott allowed himself a breath of relief. Thank God.

Hope was gonna send her lawyers to help him. He knew she couldn't really have been working for Stark. She almost had him worried there.

"Said lawyers will present you with the charges that PymTech will be pressing against you for your actions in the last months."

Scott felt his stomach drop: "W-wha...?" he stuttered.

"You stole the Ant Man suit and used it to become a terrorist," Hope spat, glaring at him, "and now you're gonna pay for it, you worthless fucker."

Scott couldn't believe his ears: "Bu... but... no! Hank gave the suit to me! That's not the... You can't do that! The suit belongs to him! And... Hope, your father was captured by the Winter Soldier yesterday! You can't- how can you just stand here when- Hope, I don't know what Stark did to you, but we can fix this, I... We have to save Hank! He could be-"

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there, Mr. Bang," the redhead interrupted, cutting off his yammering.

"Lang," Scott corrected, still slightly dazed.

"Dang," the girl deadpanned completely serious, and despite everything, Scott had the distinct feeling that whatever her problem with him was, it was somehow related to Stark's 'who are you?' jab back at the Raft.

"Hank Pym has been apprehended and is currently in custody. He is unhurt."

Scott was left stumbling for a moment, unsure of what to respond. In the end, he turned to Hope: "What... what does it mean he's in custody? Hope, he's your father! How can you-"

"Yes, he's my father," Hope replied angrily, "my father who abetted terrorists and murderers because he hates Tony Stark more than he loves me. My father who broke the laws that I was standing for, that I was fighting for. My father, who stood there and watched while Barton, Maximoff and Wilson tried to kill both me and Paxton in San Francisco. He deserves to rot in jail, and so do you."

Scott didn't know what was going on anymore: "Hope, I... We thought... That's not true, Hope. Hank loves you. He wants what's best for you... I want what's best for you! You're-"

"Please don't, thank you," Hope cut him off, scoffing harshly, "I know where you're going there, and I'm afraid I'm gonna have to disappoint you. I don't know what I was expecting, I thought it was clear, but evidently you're way too stupid to take the hint: we're over, Scott. You're just a massive idiot, I can't believe I almost fell for you. The only saving grace in this clusterfuck is that at least it opened my eyes." she said.

Again, Scott fumbled with his words for quite a bit before settling on something coherent: "Hope, what has Stark done to you?" he asked softly.

Hope scoffed again, becoming even more hostile: "You mean what he's done besides saving me and Paxton from your terrorist friends, and also saving my company from yours and Hank's stupid-ass decisions? Well, let's see: he's welcomed me into the Avengers and offered his help when I needed it most, he's forgiven me for a pretty bad fuck-up when I ran off half-cocked to catch Hank in San Francisco... Oh, and then of course he has helped me actually catch both you and Hank, therefore putting an end to my company's technology being used for terrorism," she answered in a forcefully calm and sarcastic tone.

When Scott started stuttering again, the other girl butted in: "You know what, let me help you: 'But we're not terrorists! We were working with Captain America and fighting for what's right!' That's what you were gonna say next, weren't you, Lard?" she smirked a really Stark-like smirk.

Scott didn't bother correcting his last name again, mostly because the obnoxious girl was right this time: "Yes!" he exclaimed vehemently.

"And you think what Rogers did today was 'what's right'? Nearly running down civilians, smashing a police barricade, going through everyone and everything that stands in his way, just to go and save his best friend, without giving a single thought to anyone else?"

That gave Scott pause.

Steve had completely disregarded his concerns about Hank's safety. He truly had risked running civilians down with that van...

And before that?

When the arrow guy and the magic girl had been apprehended, Cap hadn't reacted in the same way at all... He'd said: 'We'll manage'...

Back in Leipzig, when he'd suggested he go giant as a diversion, Rogers had agreed immediately, and in the end he had fucked off to Siberia taking only his BFF with him... In the following months, he hadn't even bothered to ask about the guy that had gotten hurt, War Machine...

Yes, he'd broken them out of the Raft, but... was it really because he cared or was it because he could still use a team back then?

But... But that meant...

Oh God...

The two women had apparently seen the realization dawn on his face, because Hope spoke next: "Yeah, chilling thought, isn't it, Scott? You broke parole, became a terrorist and a fugitive for a guy who ultimately only cares about his old pal..." she said, before leaning forward with an absolutely serious expression, "...because you're an idiot," she added.

Scott could feel a panic attack building deep in the pit of his stomach: "Hope... Hope, please, you have to-"

"No," she stopped him, "I don't have to do anything, Scott. I'm not even sure what I could do."

Scott's voice broke: "Hope, please, there's gotta be something- I promised Cassie I would get my head on straight," he said, tears coming to his eyes.

A few months ago, Hope's heart would have broken at seeing him like this. Now, she couldn't bring herself to feel even an ounce of pity for him: "You should have thought about that promise when they called you to become a terrorist," she seethed, "You've made your own bed, Scott. Now you're gonna lay in it."

"No... Hope! Hope, wait!" Scott pleaded as Hope and the other girl got up and made to leave.

"Hope!" he called one last time. But the only answer he got was the sound of the door closing, only for it to reopen a few moments later when a bunch of guys in black tactical gear entered. One of them grabbed his arm and hauled him up, leading him out of the room without a single word.

This was it. This was the end of the road.

Scott started crying.

Sam was done deluding himself.

He was sure he had done the right thing. Steve was definitely going off the rails, he needed to be stopped before he could do something he would regret. Sam knew he had made the right decision in the end, but he wasn't expecting any favours from the Avengers for his belated epiphany.

Still, when James Rhodes entered the interrogation room on a pair of crutches, Vision opening the door for him, a small part of Sam felt like that was a pretty dickish move, as if they were trying to guilt-trip him or maybe rub his mistakes in his face.

He knew better than to voice those thoughts right now, though. He was going to let them speak first.

Both Vision and Rhodey sat down, and the colonel was the first to talk: "Hello, Wilson," he hissed with all the authority in his voice that his officer rank gave him.

Sam visibly flinched. Rhodes was speaking to him as if to a complete stranger. As if they hadn't been part of the same team for more than a year.

Sam didn't look the other man in the eyes when he replied: "Rhodes, look... I'm sorry-"

"It's Colonel Rhodes, Wilson," Rhodey interrupted him, "and I'm not interested in hearing any of your excuses. I'm not here as your friend, I'm here as an Avenger."

Sam's brow furrowed. "As an Avenger? But I thought-"

"I'm still an Avenger. I'm not on active duty of course, but my wounds are healing. I'll be back out in the field, eventually," Rhodey explained in a clipped voice.

Sam didn't know what to make of it. For him, Leipzig had been... tricky to deal with. He tentatively smiled at his fellow airman: "That's good... I'm-"

"I'm not here to talk about that," Rhodes interrupted him again.

Sam lowered his gaze again: "Then why are you here?" he asked in a small voice.

"Industrial espionage," Rhodey shrugged.

Sam didn't get it: "What?"

"The original EXO-7 Falcon Wings belonged to the Air Force. When you stole those, back in 2014, you were not legally prosecuted because the patent still belonged to Stark Industries, and in the wake of the fall of SHIELD, Rogers went to Tony and... pretty much ordered him to vouch for you with the higher ups," Rhodey elaborated, disgust underlining his voice, "This time, however, you're not gonna fall on your feet."

Sam was confused: "But I-"

"Brought the wings to Hank Pym and allowed him to work on them. When you bring any patented piece of technology to one of the manufacturer's most well known competitors and let him tinker with it, it's called industrial espionage. Not the most pressing of your problems right now, admittedly, but still something you're gonna have to deal with." Rhodey said.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and drew a deep breath: "Look, I get that Stark is pissed-"

This time, it was Vision who interrupted him: "Mr. Stark is not the one pressing charges. Stark Industries is, in the form of its CEO, Pepper Potts."

Sam's brow furrowed, but Vision continued without him needing to ask further questions: "You, Mr. Wilson, made Mr. Stark promise to go to Siberia 'alone and as a friend'. This led to Mr. Stark nearly dying. Alone, and at the hands of his supposed friend. You can understand that Ms. Potts was... upset, about this turn of events."

Sam was left floundering for a moment before he recovered. He turned back to Rhodey: "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"SI is pressing charges against you," Rhodey shrugged, "Someone was gonna tell you, eventually."

"Yes, but why are you telling me this?" Sam pressed, "You're not affiliated to Stark Industries in any way! Why you, of all people?"

"Actually, I am affiliated to Stark Industries," Rhodey corrected, "I've been the military liaison with SI for more than fifteen years now. Not to mention I personally own a small amount of SI shares, and so far I'm also the only test subject for the prosthetic leg braces Tony has developed. But you're right, none of that plays into why I'm here, so we'll digress."

With some difficulties, Sam restrained himself from flinching at Rhodey's sideways mention of his injury. He let him continue.

"You surrendered yourself," the Colonel stated, "Makes me think you might deserve a fair warning."

Sam was grateful for the consideration. Really, he was. But he was also confused: "So what? You just... come here and tell me 'Hey, Pepper Potts wants your ass-cheeks on a silver platter for sending Tony alone in Siberia, sucks to be you', and then you leave? I was following Steve's orders! As Captain America-"

Rhodey furiously slammed his punch hard on the table. Sam was stunned into silence by the outburst.

"As Captain America, he decided to cover up a murder because it was his ol' pal who committed it. In all his self-righteousness, he decided that Bucky Barnes was worth lying for, while Tony Stark didn't even deserve the closure of knowing the truth about the death of his parents." Rhodey seethed, "Don't come preach to me about 'Captain America: God's Righteous Man', Wilson. I find it particularly disgusting."

Sam didn't flinch this time. Rhodey's reasoning was not entirely wrong, after all.

But he shook his head: "He was still my commanding officer," he replied stubbornly, "and I was following his orders. I didn't decide on my own to turn my gear over to Pym."

It was Vision who spoke next: "And are you willing to testify that?"

Sam raised an eyebrow: "Pardon?"

"He asked you if you're willing to testify that," Rhodey said, having calmed down slightly, "in a court. At your trial. And at Rogers' trial too."

Sam was starting to understand: "So that's what this is about? That's why you came to warn me about Potts making her move? To persuade me to testify against Steve?"

"Yes," Rhodey deadpanned, "and if you have even a smidgeon of self-preservation, you should take the chance immediately. It's the only way if you don't want to experience what being on the bad side of the Stark Industries Legal department feels like."

Sam couldn't resist a jab: "And what about your dear friend Pepper? Does she know you're bailing me out? How would she take it if I got away with it?"

Rhodes scoffed: "Contrary to your previous statement, Pepper doesn't care much about 'your ass-cheeks on a silver platter'. This thing about the Falcon suit? It's about righting a wrong. You wronged Tony by stealing his gear, and Pepper wants someone to pay for it. She doesn't care if it's you or Rogers. Besides, there are plenty of other charges against both of you, so she'll get to see you both burn either way. She's just... extracting her pound of flesh, so to speak."

Sam was gobsmacked. Was Potts really that vindictive?

And yet... Sam found that he could understand her. What Steve had done in Siberia... it was simply unforgivable.

But was it right for Sam to turn his back on Steve like that and just think for himself? After all, Steve was his leader... And they had been fighting the good fight...

"The Accords..." Sam started, not really knowing what to say.

"What about the Accords, Mr. Wilson?" Vision asked when it became clear that Sam wasn't going to finish his phrase, "The reason you fought against the Accords was that you believed the bureaucracy would tie your hands, wasn't it? Well, the facts speak for themselves: Iron Man has saved Ms. Romanoff and the Barton family from General Ross, who was never able to swing the Accords against him, or us. Then, ever since you and your team have been back in action, the Avengers have been one step ahead of you in nearly every occasion: at Berwick, in San Francisco, and today. In the only occasion when your team operated without interference, you caused an economical disaster by nearly blocking the Panama Canal. I believe the results are firmly in our favour..."

Sam was left speechless. Vision had a point: every time they had fought the Avengers, they had had their butts handed to them, and when they hadn't, they had fucked up royally.

He took a shuddered breath: "If I testify against Steve, will they take my cooperation into account?" he asked, feeling like a beggar pleading for a coin.

"Probably," Rhodes responded, "It helps that you surrendered yourself without a fight. You might be able to shave off a few years. Not many, but a few."

Sam felt a shiver going down his spine at the prospect of going to prison for years. And yet... it made perfect sense. He was a terrorist.

He lowered his head: "I'll do it," he said in a small voice.

Unlike Sam and Scott, Steve and Bucky hadn't been taken into an interrogation room. Instead, they had been thrown into reinforced cells immediately upon being hauled out of the Avengers Quinjet.

The two cells in question were next to one another, and both the wall facing the corridor and the dividing wall were entirely made of bulletproof (maybe even Hulk-proof) glass. It didn't offer any privacy, but at least Steve was able to keep an eye on Bucky.

His best friend was sat on a bench on the far wall of his cell, looking completely and utterly lost, his face still bloody from his broken nose. Steve felt bad just looking at him. He had tried banging his hand on the divider to get Bucky's attention, but it didn't seem to work. Maybe the cells were also soundproofed.

After a long time, someone finally appeared.

Tony and Sharon.

They strolled up to the cells and stopped right in front of them. They both appeared perfectly calm and collected, while Steve was about to choke in anguish.

Sharon turned to look at him as if he was just dirt under her shoes. Steve was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that she was working with Tony and supporting the Accords.

He wondered if she had betrayed him after Leipzig or if she had never been on his side to begin with, if Tony had planted her as a mole in his team, maybe after the bombing in Vienna.

Peggy would be so disgusted.

Tony was not even paying attention to them, obnkxiously texting on his phone. Despite that, he was the one who spoke first:

"So," he started, never taking his eyes off the phone, "are you happy?"

Steve immediately went on the defensive: "Tony, this is-"

"I wasn't talking to you," Tony interrupted him, holding up a hand and looking Steve dead in the eye, before turning to Bucky: "Are you happy?" he asked again, putting the phone away.

Bucky only gave him a confused look.

"You wanted to speak with me, did you not?" Tony asked simply, "Well, here I am. What did you wanna talk about? My parents? Siberia? Your fucked up brain?"

Bucky didn't answer. He just lowered his head in shame, curling up more on himself.

Steve's heart was breaking at seeing his best friend being treated like that and not being able to do anything about it, but he was also confused: Bucky had wanted to speak with Tony? What was that about?

Regardless, he still felt like he had to defend his friend: "Tony, leave him alone! He's gone through enough tonight!"

"You don't say," Tony answered, still perfectly calm and still looking at Bucky, "did Maximoff try to rape him in his sleep too?"

The non-sequitur left Steve stumbling: "What?" he asked dumbly, "What are you-"

Tony waved him off, never taking his eyes off Bucky: "Not something I wanna talk about. What I wanna talk about right now is the fact that he took eight hostages today."

Bucky was clearly not gonna answer. He had propped his right elbow on his knee, covering his face with his human hand, while his left arm was still limp at his side. It was clear the Avengers had deactivated it, judging by the hole in the shoulder.

So Steve, again, answered in his stead: "It wasn't his fault, and you know it! It was Hydra!"

"Yeah, no," Tony replied, still keeping his eyes trained on Bucky and his voice low and calm, "This guy was clearly acting as James Barnes, now the Winter Soldier this morning. He was not under Hydra's conditioning when we took him in."

"Yes he was!" Steve screeched, "Hydra used him again! They triggered him and forced him to attack us!"

"They didn't," Sharon said flatly, speaking for the first time since she and Tony had arrived, "Oliver Caldwell was not a Hydra operative. He was a SHIELD agent who got burned in the Hydra info-dump and wanted revenge on you for ruining his life. He saw an opportunity and took it. Not a nice guy, for sure, but not Hydra either. And besides, I seriously doubt he ordered Barnes here to create a hostage situation in case his plan was foiled..."

Steve clenched his fists in frustration.

He didn't know that about Caldwell. Actually, it made sense if he was just a stray like Zemo: after years of hunting down every single dormant cell, at this point Hydra was basically gone, for all intents and purposes.

But it didn't change the fact that Bucky wasn't to blame.

"Bucky was scared," he gritted through his teeth, "He had just been brainwashed, again. He was not thinking straight."

"Neither were you, apparently," Tony replied airily, finally turning to him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Steve demanded.

"Well, you run a police blockade, nearly flattening civilian bystanders, and then set Lang Kong loose in a residential area, no doubt counting on him to cause massive property damage in order to distract us. All that, for the sole purpose of getting your precious Bucky back. Ring a bell?" Tony replied in a detatched voice.

Steve felt a pang of shame: "I-I didn't know where Bucky was or in what conditions he was in, and... and I couldn't trust you not to try to kill him. You had already tried to kill him once, in Siberia!" he tried to justify himself.

It was again Sharon who retorted: "You're a soldier, Rogers. You should be able to estimate the strenght of your opponents. And you have seen Iron Man in action countless times. Do you really think your puny serum is enough to go up against that kind of firepower? If Tony wanted you two dead back in Siberia, all he had to do was fly outside and use his heavy weaponry to turn the entire place into a smoking crater. The pair of you would have been vaporized into your elementary particles."

Steve flinched.

Once arriving in Wakanda with his team and finally having the time to think about the fight in Siberia with a cool mind, Steve had suspected Tony had been holding back. Then, after facing him again in Pennsylvania, where Tony had been absolutely toying with them, batting them around with practically zero effort, that suspect had pretty much become a certainty.

"And besides," Sharon added, "today we already had Barnes in custody by the time you showed up. Tony has had plenty of time to kill him if he wanted to, and he didn't. So, do you wanna try to come up with a better excuse?"

Steve tried to argue: "Sharon, you don't understa-"

"Oh, I understand perfectly well now, Rogers," she said with disgust, looking him dead in the eyes, "Thank God you didn't bring me to Wakanda with you. You did me one hell of a favour by hanging me out to dry after Leipzig. It forced me to look past the 'America's Golden Boy' malarkey and see the real you. Frankly, I'm not impressed. You're just a brainless jock with a high opinion of himself. I guess you really should never, ever meet your heroes."

Steve didn't even know how to feel anymore. He was scared, sad, angry, and now he somehow even felt like he had wronged Sharon. What was going on?

Again, he tried to justify himself: "The Accords-"

"Oh, screw the Accords, Rogers!" Sharon shot back, "You know full well that if you really didn't agree with the Accords, all you had to do was retire! It was never about the Accords! It was all about him!" she said, pointing at Bucky's hunched form.

Steve finally came up with a retort: "Yes! Yes, it was about him! You were the one who told me you had orders to shoot on sight!" he said, feeling slightly proud at having finally found a compelling argument.

But Sharon squashed it immediately: "And we did. 'We' being the CIA, not the German police! I didn't know what orders the BKA was given, how could I when it's an entirely different organization than the one I was part of!?"

Steve reeled back as if he had been burned.

Was it true? Did those German special forces really have different orders than Sharon's teammates?

Thinking about it... they had used stun grenades in Bucky's apartment... and they didn't have any sniper in position... There was a helicopter, but it had only intervened after Bucky had fled the apartment block and T'Challa had engaged as well...

...Had he really made such a big mistake?

"Yeah, you fucked that one up, Rogers. Big time." Tony said, still keeping his tone and posture absolutely calm, seeing Steve's confused expression.

Steve stumbled for a moment, but then he defiantly raised his chin: "He's still alive. I don't regret helping my friend," he stated.

"Helping, Rogers?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow, "So far you've only made things worse for him."

"What are you talking about?" Steve retorted, "Was I supposed to let Ross have his way? Or to let you have another go at him again?"

Tony shrugged, seemingly unfazed by Steve's thinly-veiled accusation: "For starters, I'd say you were supposed to tell me the truth about my parents, before I had to watch a video of your buddy murdering them in cold blood while he was standing five feet from me."

Steve flinched visibly, but Tony went on: "And then, you definitely weren't supposed to drag him around the world causing disasters everywhere you went. As a known Hydra operative, he could really have used some time away from the spotlight."

"For God's sake, Tony! The Winter Soldier's actions aren't Bucky's fault! Hydra was controlling him!"

"Yeah, about that," Tony said, always keeping the casual tone, "I'm working on this system, to help cure PTSD. It's called BARF, and before you think ill of me, that's an acronym for 'Binarily Augmented Retro Framing'. It works on the hippocampus to help cope with traumatic memories. In Barnes' case, it would come in handy to remove all that Hydra programming that made him a puppet for Zemo and then Caldwell to play with. And, consequently, it would also help him avoid snapping like he did his morning."

Steve was left speechless. What was Tony saying?

Was he offering to help Bucky?

Why would he do that?

"But," Tony went on, "because of you, Rogers... Because you've dragged him along for the whole ride in your mad crusade against the entire world... now he's actually better off as he is now. I really could have helped him, but you, you blew his chance for him."

Other than clenching his fists, Steve didn't react immediately. It took him a very long moment to get his emotions under control.

Was Tony really dangling a solution for Bucky's problems right in front of Bucky's eyes and then telling him he couldn't have it?

How could he be so vindictive? So... petty?

"Tony," he started, trying to be reasonable despite feeling a nearly uncontrollable urge to punch something, "Bucky was Howard's friend. He would never... he would never have... done that, if Hydra hadn't forced him. Yes, I should have told you about your parents before, but that was my mistake, not Bucky's. Refusing to help him because of what you saw in Siberia, or to get back at me for my mistakes... that's just not fair. At all."

Tony only looked at him for a few seconds before speaking: "Wow," he said in the same detatched tone he had kept during the entire conversation, signalling that Steve's words hadn't affected him in the slightest: "Congratulations, Rogers, that's the closest you've gotten to an actual apology ever since that stupid letter. Too bad you clearly didn't understand anything of what I said. Let me explain it better: it's not about my parents! Even if I wanted to help him get rid of the Winter Soldier - and I actually do, if only to destroy the weapon that killed my parents - that's not the reason he can't use BARF."

"Then what is it!?" Steve snapped angrily, tired of Tony's demeanor.

Tony remained infuriatingly calm as he went in for the kill: "It's because now, he's gonna have to face trial for international terrorism. Not only for his actions as the Winter Soldier, but also for what James Barnes has done since flying out of Wakanda. Now, his chances don't look too bad he advocates for reduced mental capacity, because of the Winter Soldier programming, but if we erase that... he runs the risk of having both his most recent crimes and his Winter Soldier missions to be treated as his responsibility and his alone, because nobody would believe he had been brainwashed if we get him fixed so quickly. In that case, a death sentence would be pretty much inevitable, given the six decades of Winter Soldier activity in his resume."

Steve felt his heart skip a beat.

Tony pressed on: "And why did this happen? Because you kept drawing attention on yourself, and in turn, on him. Nearly blowing up a nuclear facility? Sinking a ship inside the Panama Canal? That kind of things tends to end up on front pages," he said.

In that moment, Steve felt completely lost.

It was his fault.

Bucky was in this situation because of him.

He turned towards his best friend, and Bucky was now looking up at Tony, still with that broken expression.

"Yes Barnes, he stuck you between a rock and a hard place," Sharon considered, acknowledging him, "you might want to rethink how you choose your friends..."

Steve wanted to argue, but found that he couldn't. He was trembling slightly, his vision going a bit blurry. He had never felt such anguish, not even when he had asthma attacks, before the serum.

He barely heard Tony agree with Sharon: "Yep. You fucked him over sideways, Rogers. I'm curious, though... how did you plan to help him with the Winter Soldier triggers? Were you going to let Wanda tinker with his brain? Hey, Barnes," he called, turning to Bucky, "Would you even trust the little witch mess with your brain in the off chance she could fix it? I mean, she was Hydra, after all..."

Steve's eyes bulged. He turned to his friend, and Bucky was now shifting his eyes, wide and disbelieving, between Steve and Tony. "...She was Hydra?" Bucky asked, almost whispering, after a few more seconds.

Tony still kept his tone infuriatingly casual: "Oh, he didn't tell you, did he? Yeah, he tends to do that... But yes, Wanda Maximoff was Hydra, before Steve-O here decided to invite her to join the Avengers. And unlike you, she wasn't forced in any way. She willingly joined them to be experimented on. Where do you think her powers come from?"

For a moment, there was silence. You could hear a pin drop.

Then, Bucky's face contorted in utter, ugly rage as he stood up from his cell and stalked to the divider wall. He slammed the palm of his human hand against the glass: "What the hell is wrong with you!? Are you crazy!?" he yelled.

Steve didn't answer, too horrified by the entire situation.

Bucky started punching the glass: "You bastard!" was the only intelligible thing he shouted, before he started yelling like a madman, punching the glass so hard his knuckles broke, leaving bloody splotches on the glass everytime he hit it. The glass itself wasn't budging, but Steve took a step back anyway.

Tony sighed: "Friday, put him to sleep, will you?"

Immediately, gas started filling Bucky's cell. He kept punching the wall for a good minute before the tranquillizer gas took effect, making him slump against the divider, his face still twisted in anger.

"Spokoynoy nochi, tovarishch," Tony smirked cheerfully.

It took Steve a long moment to recover from the scare: "Why would you do that!?" he yelled then, "Why did you tell him such a thing!? That was completely uncalled for!"

"What, didn't he have the right to know?" Tony asked casually, "I thought teammates were not supposed to have secrets..."

Steve got angry: "Why are you doing this!? Wanda is just a kid-"

"There it is!" Tony exclaimed, turning to Sharon, "See? I told you!"

Sharon shook her head: "Unbelievable, you said that for real!" she laughed, facing Steve, "A twenty-six years old woman is 'just a kid' to you? I thought Tony was just messing with me when he told me that!"

Before Steve could react, Tony took a step closer: "Be honest, Rogers: do you have a daddy kink going on with Wanda?"

Steve's eyebrows scrunched together: "What?" he asked dumbly.

Tony gave him a sideways glance: "Do you call her 'Daddy's little princess' when nobody's looking?"

Steve still didn't get it. Tony went on: "Do you make her wear diapers? Did you buy her a pink pacifier? Does she hug a teddybear and suck her thumb while you fuck her?"

Steve reeled back in complete embarrassment as he finally understood the meaning of Tony's words. But before he could come up with any retort whatsoever, Sharon chimed in: "And here I was, thinking he had a cyborg fetish instead... Bet you he would really like a metal handjob from his boyfriend there..."

In the midst of his turmoil, Steve found anger. He really didn't like their tone: "Do you guys have no shame whatsoever!?" he yelled, absolulely flustered, "Leave Bucky out of this!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sharon chuckled sarcastically in a way that reminded him way too much of Tony, "but all I hear from you is 'Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky'. That's a bit misleading, you know?"

"Yeah, and the most fun part is that in trying to help his boyfriend, he completely screwed up his life!" Tony added.

Steve finally snapped: "None of this would have happened if it weren't for the Accords!" he shrieked, "Zemo wouldn't have framed Bucky, you wouldn't have stepped in and we wouldn't have fought!"

"No, Rogers," Tony responded, and for the first time, his face had gone angry, furious, even, so much so that Steve actually shut up.

"Zemo would have found another way to frame Barnes. But if you had trusted me, if you had come to me instead of running to Bucharest all by yourself, I could have helped you. I would have helped you. And Siberia? That wouldn't have happened if only you had told me the truth about my parents years ago. Yes, I would have snapped, maybe punched something, maybe blamed Barnes at first, but at least I would have had the time to process the news. I would have had the closure I fucking deserved. But you decided I couldn't be trusted with a personal information that I had all the right to have and that you had no fucking right to withhold. And now, here we are."

Steve's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but no words came out.

He couldn't find anything to say to defend himself. Not anymore.

"All of this is your fault, Rogers. Your boyfriend's situation is your fault. Wanda, Clint, Sam and that Lang loser being in jail is your fault. This-"

Tony's eyes glowed orange as he motioned to them with his hand, showing his mysterious enhancements. Steve took a step back in fear.

"...is your fault," Tony concluded, "Because you're nothing but a self-righteous, idiotic prick who thinks too highly of himself."

Steve was breathing heavily now. Tony took another step closer: "You once asked me, looking down your nose at me from the top of your moral superiority and self-righteousness, what I would be without a suit of armor. Well, one thing is for sure: suit of armor or not, I wouldn't be an international terrorist. I wouldn't choose one person over the entire world. I wouldn't be one tenth of the criminal you are."

Steve stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. Cold sweat was forming on his forehead and down his spine.

Tony said nothing more. He turned on his heels and left. Sharon sent one last disgusted look his way, before leaving as well.

Leaving him alone.

After a long moment, Steve's still petrified eyes dropped to the floor.

...Criminal.

Ever since the first clash in Bucharest between Captain America, the Black Panther and the Winter Soldier, the so-called 'Avengers Civil War' had been the topic of choice among the media from all over the world. The people, already set on edge by the events in Lagos, the announcement of the Sokovia Accords and then the bombing in Vienna, had eagerly watched the events unfold, some hoping the whole ordeal would be resolved peacefully, with the Avengers being reunited once more, others asking for those among the Avengers who had gone rogue to answer for their crimes.

The media had debated extensively over every new development: first Leipzig, which had cost Captain America's faction many supporters, then Siberia as well, after Pepper Potts had held a press conference in which she had stated that Tony Stark had been seriously injured in a further confrontation with Steve Rogers and James Barnes, to the point where his very life had been endangered. Again 'Team Cap' had lost consense, although nowhere near as much as they would have if Pepper had told the whole story: that Tony had been lied to for years by a supposed friend, then beaten half to death and left to die in an abandoned Hydra bunker in the middle of a frozen wasteland.

Berwick, Pennsylvania ended up having a much bigger resonance: the newly reformed Avengers, with Tony Stark at the helm, had carried out their duty flawlessly, despite being fewer in numbers than the original team. But then Captain America and his rogue faction had shown up, and had nearly turned a perfectly executed rescue mission into a nuclear disaster. For many people that had been the final straw, especially among US citizens.

Up to this point the American people, or at least the vast majority of them, still saw Steve Rogers as 'America's Golden Boy': the epitome of righteousness, the guardian of truth, justice and the American way, a good man by default, physically incapable of doing anything wrong. But after Berwick, after Captain America had nearly caused a nuclear catastrophe and it had taken Iron Man and the other Avengers to prevent it... more and more Americans started to question their beliefs. They started to ask themselves if the US Army's poster boy wasn't actually just that: a poster boy. They were asking themselves if that experimental serum had really created something akin to an angel, a living legend, or just an enhanced man.

A flawed man.

So Steve Rogers was not very loved when two of his followers, Wanda Maximoff and Clint Barton, were captured in San Francisco by Iron Man and the Wasp. This time, it was the Avengers who had most of the public's support, and that support grew even more when Hope Van Dyne gave her press statement, openly accusing her own father and accusing Rogers' followers of having tried to kill the two Avengers and an unenhanced policeman.

However, the news of Barton and Maximoff's capture didn't get as much resonance as the skirmish in Pennsylvania had. Partly because of the Wasp, an Avenger, labelling her own father a terrorist, but mostly because of Lady Iron.

Iron Man's newest partner had had the media wrapped around her little finger ever since her first appearance, when Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross had shown his true colors. As soon as the news about the former General's demise had gone public, pictures of Lady Iron's sleek, feminine suit of armor had flooded the Internet like wildfire, and the mysterious new Avenger had immediately risen as the new idol of little girls and boys alike all over the world. A modern superhero, as cool as Iron Man himself, and a perfect example of 'Girl Power', Lady Iron had the whole package. The world at large had fallen in love with her.

So when a video of her helmet-less figure had popped up on the net, Youtube's servers had very nearly crashed. And interestingly enough, nobody had noticed that this video had appeared right in time to make the public opinion lose interest in every other news related to the Avengers: Hawkeye and the Scarlet Witch being captured? Good news. PymTech's financial problems due to Hank Pym being a terrorist? Just... news. Lady Iron showing her face? Mediatic explosion.

All kinds of questions and speculations were running rampant about the young redhead donning an Iron Man-class suit of armor. Who was she? Where did she come form? How had she met Tony Stark? Was she related to him?

The result of all this was that slowly, the entire Avengers Civil War was becoming yesterday's news. Yes, Captain America was not the perfect man people believed him to be. Shocking, but they could deal with that. Yes, the Avengers had been torn apart, but the New Avengers had risen from the ashes, stronger than before.

The events of Panama had somewhat galvanized the media again, because of the much bigger economical backlash. But at this point, the public opinion was pretty much already set: Steve Rogers was wrong. There were no debates over what had happened in Panama. Nobody tried to defend Steve Rogers' actions. That ordeal had no other effect than further condemnation for him and his team.

And thus, when the time for the grand finale came, four days later, and Steve Rogers along with all of his remaining followers was apprehended in Philadelphia, it was still breaking news, but not as much as Leipzig or Berwick had been. Captain America (if he could still be called that) was already, slowly but surely, fading into irrelevance. And one of the main reasons for that was, once again, Lady Iron.

A particular meme had first appeared on Tumblr less than three hours after the events of Philadelphia. It showed two pictures: the first one was of Rogers, battered and bloody and covered in grime, his uniform filthy and tattered, probably taken right after the Battle of Sokovia; the other picture was a still of the infamous video that had first shown Lady Iron without her helmet on, her hair flowing gently with the wind and her armor spotless, glowing in the sunlight. Under Steve's picture there was a caption that read: 'Team Cap went down, and not a single fuck was given that day'. Under Friday's picture, another caption said: 'Not a single fuck was given that day, because Lady Iron is Tony Stark's daughter'.

The end of Team Cap had left many loose ends and unanswered questions. For example: was the Winter Soldier acting on his own volition before being captured, when he took those hostages, or had that somehow been an order from Rogers? And speaking of Rogers: was he gonna get the harsh sentence nearly everyone was asking for, or did the Captain America image still have enough pull for him to dodge most of the bullets? Also, what was gonna happen to the rest of Team Cap?

Still, all these questions didn't get anywhere near as much mediatic attention as those concerning Lady Iron, or as she had called herself, Friday Ana Stark. Now that she had outed herself as Tony's daughter, people wanted to know everything about her.

Where did she come from?

Who was her mother?

What did her father think of her being a superhero?

In the end, the press got so insistent that they practically forced the Starks to hold a press conference. That was why Tony and Friday were currently sitting at a desk in the Avengers Compound, in front of an enormous crowd of trepidating journalists from everywhere around the world. Of course, among them was also Christine Everhart, gazing hungrily at the conference desk from her seat in the front row, always trying her best to get the latest news on everything involving Tony Stark. Next to the conference desk, close to the left wall, Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan were also in attendence, surveying the room.

Tony gave the crowd his patented press smile: "So, I understand you people have some questions?" he said.

The entire room exploded. Hands were raised frantically, and people shot to their feet as if performing a standing ovation. Some of the reporters in the back rows even stood on their chairs to be more visible.

Tony chuckled: "Yup, that's what I thought. Friday, you wanna get started?" he called, looking at his daughter.

"Of course," she smiled, "You, good sir, third row," Friday said pointing to a man to her left.

The reporter stayed up while everyone else slowly sat down. When the room had quieted enough, he spoke: "Miss Stark, nobody knew you existed until last week, and being Mr. Stark's daughter, that's an incredible feat in and of itself. Where have you been all this time?"

Friday chuckled: "Well, it's a bit more complicated than it looks. Up until about seven months ago, I didn't have a physical body."

Confused noises echoed through the room. Friday waited for those to diffuse before she continued: "I was created by Tony Stark as an artificial intelligence, but seven months ago, an accident involving some experimental medical equipment occurred at the Avengers Compound. I cannot go into the details as the equipment in question is, as I said, a highly experimental prototype, and any and all information about it remains classified to this day, but my coding was synthetized in an artificial human body."

The surprise was enough to silence most of the reporters. The conference had barely started, and already the big bombs were starting to drop.

One guy in the back of the room recovered the fastest: "So you're a cyborg of some sort?" he asked.

"The most correct definition is 'artificial human'. My DNA is fully compatible with a human one," Friday replied.

"But you were created as an artificial intelligence, like Ultron was," another reporter said with an air of superiority. Friday was unpleasantly reminded of Steve Rogers' expression of self-righteous disapproval, even though this man and Rogers couldn't be more different: this guy was short, fat and completely bald. He kind of looked like the Michelin Tyres mascot, "and now you're flying around in a suit of armor. Should we be afraid?" he sneered.

From her vantage on the side of the room, Pepper's eyes narrowed dangerously. She was expecting Everhart to be the problematic one today, but Christine was actually looking at her rotund colleague with a mix of disbelief and disapproval.

Pepper made a mental note to put Porky Pig there on her personal black list. Assholes like him always managed to make their way into a press conference, but at the very least she could make sure they only managed it once.

Friday, however, took it perfectly in stride. She gave the man a curt smile and leaned forward: "Yes, I was born as an artificial intelligence, like Ultron. Or like Vision, who is actually a lot more powerful than I am even after I put on my armour. Besides, as an enhanced individual I have had to sign the Sokovia Accords before I could start working with the Avengers..."

Many of the other reporters chuckled in amusement at Friday's answer, but the Michelin Man wasn't deterred: "And so what?" he asked condescendingly.

"And so, as an AI with a physical body, Ultron's precedent made my registration a bit more complicated than it would be for other enhanced individuals. I had to be evaluated and cleared for field duty by the Sokovia Accords Central Committee before I could ever put on my suit and get in a fight. Nobody wants another Ultron, and I fully understand that. I don't want another Ultron either. That's why I couldn't just sign the Accords and be done with it... Someone in the Accords Committee pushed for further testing at the time, but in the end, I was given the all-clear."

Michelin Man's cheeks were getting redder now. Things were most definitely not going his way, and he sure wasn't making a nice impression. But he was a tough one: "So your clearance wasn't decided unanimously? Maybe someone didn't trust another AI made by Tony Stark?"

At this point it was clear that this guy was only there to provoke them. The poor moron probably thought he could get a scoop if he caused tempers to flare, or something. Many of the other reporters were actually murmuring among themselves, saying that Friday had never given anyone a reason to doubt her, and this guy was being deliberately obtuse. Even Christine was shaking her head.

However, Friday only grinned like a shark. Michelin Man had taken her bait: "Yes, there was one member of the Committee who wanted to run more tests on me. His name was Thaddeus Ross. You may remember him for his particularly inglorious demise and subsequent fall from grace," she said casually.

Many people in the room, including Tony, had to suppress a laugh. After his death, Ross' name had been covered in mud, with the Press utterly destroying his reputation, and Michelin Man had basically just implied he had his same opinions.

Finally admitting defeat and not wanting to dig himself into an even bigger hole, the pudgy reporter sat down with a mortified expression. Friday sent a last, completely fake smile his way before pointing to another reporter, a brunette woman in her forties: "Yes, you over there, miss," she called.

The woman stood "Miss Stark, despite your... unorthodox origins, you refer to yourself as Tony's daughter. Is it just a reference to Mr. Stark originally programming you as an AI or are we actually looking at Tony Stark's heiress?"

"I'd like to answer that one myself, if you don't mind," Tony smiled, leaning forward: "Friday is my daughter in every way that counts. And I do mean every way, even in genetics: she has half of her alleles in common with me. That makes her my daughter even in the most strict sense of the word," he said, convinced. It had taken him a while to get around to acknowledge the fact that he had a daughter, but after Friday had been hurt in Pennsylvania, he hadn't just accepted it. He had embraced it proudly: "So yes, she's the real deal. You are actually looking at Tony Stark's heiress."

Again, excited chatter erupted in the room. Friday pointed at another reporter, an Asian man in the fifth row: "Mr. Stark just told us about your genetic profile. Do you know from whom the other half of your alleles comes from? In other words, do you also have a mother, Miss Stark?" he asked, already showing his suspicions by glancing at Pepper's figure to the left of the room.

Friday smirked. Her answer, this time, was very telegraphic: "I do," was all she said.

The reporter hesitated a moment and again glanced at Pepper, but when it became clear that Friday wasn't gonna spill without further prompting, he decided to ask: "May we know who-"

He stopped mid-sentence when Pepper calmly strolled towards the desk with a smile on her face, leaned down next to Friday and put an arm around her shoulders, before speaking in Friday's microphone: "That would be me," she said.

As Pepper straightened herself and calmly walked back to her prevoius spot, still smiling, she was bombarded by questions from nearly every reporter in the room. But they were in for a disappointment. They weren't gonna get anything more from her today.

After all, it hadn't entirely been a surprise for them. Ever since the video showing Friday without her helmet on had first hit the net, a lot of theories and speculations were that Friday was related to Pepper. Either her daughter, or her niece, or a cousin of some sort, but still a close relative. Everyone had noticed the resemblance between the two redheads, and all Pepper had just done was simply confirm the suspicions.

"Alright, people, Miss Potts is not part of the conference," Tony said placatingly, slowly getting back the attention of the reporters, "does anyone have any more questions?"

Another man from the back raised his hand: "Mr. Stark, how do you feel about your daughter following in Iron Man's footsteps?"

That was a difficult one. Tony took a deep breath: "How do I feel. Well, obviously it's pretty scary, but Friday has worked a lot with me, even before gaining a human body. Before she became physical, she was linked to my armor and was basically my copilot. She's been with me on several missions... including Leipzig and Siberia. She knows how Iron Man works, how the Avengers work. And she's always had my back. Because of that, Friday and I have learned to work together flawlessly in the field. So yes, I'm always a bit worried when we suit up, but I know for a fact that Lady Iron can take care of herself."

The reporter sat down after Tony had answered, but at this point Christine Everhart finally made her move. She raised her hand: "I have a question for you, Mr. Stark."

Tony gave her a mildly exhasperated look: "I'd be disappointed if you didn't, Christine."

She didn't react to the jab, instead asking her question as if Tony hadn't even spoken: "The Avengers have suffered terrible consequences in the recent past because Steve Rogers was only concerned with the safety of one person, James Barnes, and therefore led his team into the ground. With that in mind, shouldn't someone else lead the Avengers, considering you have your own daughter on the team? Or do you believe you will always be able to make the best, most impartial decisions even in the most extreme situations?"

If she expected to catch Tony off guard, she was about to be disappointed. Tony didn't even flinch when he answered: "That's a very good question, and I'm glad it was brought up, because it's understandable if people are concerned. I've become the leader of the Avengers out of necessity, but now that necessity no longer exists: the Avengers are back, we have a new team that works much better that the original one. My position as team leader was never intended to be permanent. That is why, as soon as War Machine is able to return to active duty, he will also take my position as the team's field leader."

Once again, the room was awash with chatter. It was completely out of left field for the press, but Tony had been thinking about this ever since Friday had gotten hurt in Pennsylvania. Christine had been blunt (as it was expected from her) but she was right. He couldn't, in good conscience, trust himself to not be biased towards Friday as much as Rogers had been biased towards Barnes, if not more. And because of that, he couldn't continue to lead the team.

"I will step down from my current position knowing that I couldn't possibly leave it to a more qualified person," Tony continued after a few seconds, "James Rhodes is a US Air Force senior officer with a stellar career. He is he knows how the Avengers operate and he has plenty of training in military leadership."

The 'unlike Steve Rogers' went unsaid, but every single person in the room heard it anyway.

"Now, are there any more questions?"

No one replied. Apparently, the last announcement had left even Christine at a loss of words. Come to think of it, these guys had a lot to digest, with Friday's true origins and him soon stepping down from leader of the Avengers. It was time to call it a day.

"Splendid," Tony smiled, "Then we'll declare this conference over. Thank you all again for coming today."

Pepper knew, in the back of her mind, that she should try to appear a bit more dignified. But really, what was the point?

First of all, she was enveloped head to toe in armor, so nobody could actually see her face. Second, they were flying at high altitude over the North Atlantic, so there was nobody around to see her at all, and third, Friday was monitoring all her vitals, so she must have already picked up on her accelerated heartbeat. And if not her heartbeat, then her squealing giggles.

Whatever. Nobody ever said she wasn't allowed to have some fun once in a while.

She still wasn't entirely sure this gig was exactly her kind of thing, but she was the one who had asked for a suit, after all. Besides, her opinion was rapidly changing.

She hadn't thought it possible. The first time she had been in one of Tony's armors had been when Killian had destroyed her house. Admittedly not the best first time one could possibly have.

But now, wrapped in a custom built suit of armor designed specifically for her and with no nutjobs in helicopters blowing her house apart, she could definitely see the appeal.

Flying over the ocean at supersonic speed without a plane was definitely something else.

"How do you feel it, Mom?" Friday asked over the comm, "Everything all right so far?"

Pepper glanced behind her and to her left where Friday was speeding through the skies, slightly above her, watching her closely: "I think I'm getting the hang of it," Pepper answered in an overexcited voice, before performing a perfect, if slowly paced, barrel roll.

"Alright then," Tony's voice came over the comm, "let's see what you've got, shall we?"

Pepper turned to her right, to Iron Man's figure flying parallel to her: "Hang on a sec-" she tried to protest, but Tony didn't listen: "Aw, come on, Pep, don't be a killjoy! It's like playing tag, only at Mach five! Ready? Go!"

Tony and Friday both engaged the afterburners on their suits, leaving her behind.

Both of them could reach top speeds way beyond any aircraft in existence. Pepper's suit was a more basic design, without any offensive weapon system other than the repulsors and unibeam, but because of that it was a lot less heavy. Thanks to the higher power to weight ratio, Pepper's suit clocked out at Mach 5.5, slightly faster than theirs... if they didn't use their Extremis superchargers. If they did, they could both easily surpass Mach 7 and leave her in the dust.

Pepper's suit didn't have those superchargers. Not that she wasn't glad that the Extremis in her body had been rendered inert, but in retrospect... yeah, it would have been nice to have the fastest armor.

Oh well. She was gonna make do with what she had.

She hit her own afterburners, starting the pursuit. There was probably something to be said about using incredibly powerful, fast, advanced and weaponized pieces of technology to play cops and robbers, but she needed to learn how to properly control her suit. And who ever said training couldn't be fun?

The acceleration and the G-force as the armor went hypersonic was simply immense, but the suit compensated it perfectly. Even after several test runs, Pepper was still slightly bewildered at the readings in the bottom left corner of her display, showing her flight speed climbing at an unimaginable rate...

So bewildered, in fact, that she almost missed Tony, far ahead in the distance, starting to gain altitude.

"It's not just about straight-line speed, Mom, it's also about maneuverability," Friday's excited and happy voice said on the comms, "I am your target. You have to try and keep visual on me as long as you can while I try to shake you with evasive maneuvers," she explained.

"I'm gonna keep watch from above and see how you're doing," Tony supplied then.

Pepper smirked to herself.

It was not childish.

"I'm ready," she said, determined.

Lady Iron suddenly banked hard to the right, Pepper hot on her tail. On her display, Friday's suit ahead of her was alight in red like a target on a jet fighter's cockpit computer.

Above them, Tony was watching closely. This was possibly the best day ever. It was fun time, it was training time and it was even family time. And it was gonna get even better in a couple of months, when Rhodey would finally start easing himself into War Machine again.

After a while, Friday veered hard left, pitching slightly. Pepper followed, but didn't gain as much altitude. As a result, she was actually closing in on her daughter, positioning herself right below her. She had reduced the distance considerably, with Lady Iron now only about two hundred yards in front of her and thirty yards higher...

Pepper was right onto her...

But then all of a sudden, Friday cut thrusters and deployed her aerobrakes.

The stabilizers and flight surfaces all extended out of Friday's armor, making her decelerate out of hypersonic speed almost instantaneously. In a split second, she disappeared out of Pepper's visual, successfully breaking pursuit as her mother sped past her.

The match was over.

"Sorry, Pep, our baby girl has lost you," Tony said with mirth in his voice.

Pepper made a disappointed noise as she cut down the throttle as well, pulling up and turning elegantly around in a half loop, rejoining Tony and Friday: "Sneaky girl... You tricked me into getting closer, didn't you?" she said as they all headed home.

"Yep," Friday admitted, "when you ger closer, it means I'm actually closer to the edge of your field of view. So the closer you get, the easier it is for me to lose you."

"You thought you were gaining on her, didn't you?" Tony asked then.

"I did. She really played me there," Pepper praised, not without a hint of discontent in her voice.

"People tend to get cocky when they think they've got everything under control," Tony consoled her, "Don't beat yourself over it. I've used that exact same move to shake two Raptors back in Gulmira. If I'd managed to troll two trained fighter pilots in my first real combat mission, you were bound to fall for it today."

"Well, the same trick won't work twice," Pepper boasted confidently.

"We'll see about that," Friday countered mischievously.

"Sharon, this isn't funny! Open this goddamn door NOW!" Rhodey yelled, banging both his fists on the closed door.

"Nuh-uh. No can do, Colonel-man," Sharon's elated voice answered him, "you two are not allowed out until you've settled your differences."

"That's never gonna happen!" Hope protested, coming closer to the door that trapped her in the same room with Rhodey: "This guy is too much of a jerk to admit he's wrong!"

Rhodey bristled and growled, but Sharon answered before he could: "Well then, I suppose you're gonna have to be the bigger person and concede to Rhodey's points in order to compromise. The fact remains that I'm not letting you out of this room until you've learned to be civil with one another. Rhodey is about to get back on the team- hell, he's gonna be the leader of the team, so you need to learn to work together. Bad blood between teammates is what caused the original Avengers to blow up," she said in a light tone.

"Well, that's not gonna be any of your concern, because if you don't open this door in the next three seconds, the first thing I'm gonna do as soon as I take command is gonna be kicking you out of the team!" Rhodey bellowed.

"Yes!" Hope backed him up, "And as soon as he's done that, I'm gonna press charges against you for abduction! You'd better find yourself a very good lawyer, Carter!"

"See? You two are already agreeing on something!" Sharon chimed, not at all cowed by Rhodey and Hope's threats of retribution: "All right, I see you're making progresses, so I'm off to, um... find myself a lawyer. Leave you to it, guys! Bye!"

"Sharon! Sharon!? Sharon Carter, get back here! I'm gonna murder you!" Hope shrieked.

"You can't accuse me of abduction if you murder me!" Sharon's retreating voice sing-songed while her steps got fainter and fainter as she walked away.

Left alone in the roon with her least favourite person in the Compound, Hope turned to Rhodey, glaring at him: "This is all your fault!"

"My fault!?" Rhodey spluttered, "My fault?! You are the one who went behind our backs in San Francisco!"

"Yes! And because of that, we caught Maximoff and Barton. And later on it was my lead who brought us to Rogers' base in Philadelphia!" Hope protested.

"Oh, so the fact that you got lucky excuses your fuck-ups!? That's exactly what was wrong with Rogers!" Rhodey yelled.

"Oh yeah? And why didn't you tell him that a bit sooner!? You've been a member of his team for an entire year! Why didn't you tell him he was crap at leading!?"

"Because three quarters of the time, the asshole was off with his buddy Wilson to try and get a lead on Barnes! What's your excuse for not smelling trouble every time daddy dearest used to shit on Tony!?"

"Don't you fucking dare, Rhodes! Leave my family problems out of this!"

"Why should I, Miss Pym!?"

"Watch it, Colonel! You're threading on thin ice here!"

"Ooh, I'm so scared! Pixie girl is mad at me!"

"Fuck you, arrogant dick!"

"Fuck you first, lying hag!"

They both stopped, breathing heavily, glaring into each other's eyes, their chests heaving. Not three seconds later, their lips crashed together in a rough kiss hands running savagely over each other's body. After a long moment, Rhodey grabbed Hope's hair at the back of her head, pulling her away and breaking the kiss.

"At least that effectively shut you up. I'm gonna have to do it more..." he huskily growled.

"Oh, stow it, Army boy," Hope replied.

"Air Force-" Rhodey tried to correct her, but she silenced him by grabbing his face and pulling him in for another kiss, just as savage as the first.

In the end, Sharon wasn't accused of abduction.

She wasn't even kicked out of the Avengers.

She did, however, wake up one morning with her blonde hair dyed green, blue and pink.

Her horrified scream when she saw her reflection in her mirror startled a good portion of the Compound's inhabitants awake. Not Hope and Rhodey, though.

Hope and Rhodey were already awake, sitting together on a couch in the living room closest to Sharon's quarters. Hearing the former agent's screams, they smiled evilly at each other before snuggling closer.

Clint had to act fast. Vision was not an adversary he could compete with. He had to find Wanda and get the hell out of there. Fortunately, his plan seemed to be working: the explosion he had caused had drawn that freaky android outside. But he knew his window was limited: Vision would soon realize it was just a diversion. He snuck inside the Compound and started looking for Wanda. He was rather quick to find her, but he hadn't expected to find her in company of someone. Especially, he hadn't expected to find her in Stark's company. And, of course, he hadn't expected to find the two of them like that. Wanda was bent over Stark's knees, her skirt raised and her panties lowered, leaving her buttocks completely exposed. If he was completely honest with himself, the sight was making him feel a little stiff. Although of course, Stark just had to ruin the moment: "Hey there, Barton! Come to watch the show?" Clint somehow managed to speak through his daze: "Y-You are holding Wanda here against her will! Let her go!" Weirdly enough, it was Wanda herself who answered him: "No, Clint, I'm not here against my will. I have been bad, so I have to be grounded," she said, giggling as if he had just told her a joke. Clint made a brilliant representation of a fish out of the water, opening and closing his mouth several times before he actually managed to speak: "Grounded?" he squawked. "Yes," Wanda said huskily, "I've been a bad girl..." "Yup," Stark replied in his absolutely obnoxious tone, "You definitely deserve a spanking..." Saying that, Stark raised a hand and slapped Wanda's butt. Wanda moaned: "Oh yes, spank me! I've been such a bad girl! Punish me, Daddy!" As Stark spanked her again, Clint's brain started shorting out. What the fuck is going on!? "Hn. I knew it..." The new voice, coming from Clint's left, made his blood freeze in his veins. He turned to see Laura standing there, and Tony was standing right next to her, with an arm around her shoulder as his wife leaned into his side, her eyes hooded. Clint's head jerked back to Wanda, and Tony was also there, with Wanda still laying on his knees with her bum exposed. What the ever-loving FUCK!? "I knew you had the hots for the witch. That tent is pretty telling," Laura elaborated, making Clint turn back to her and the other Tony. Laura was looking at the bulge in his crotch with disappointment and mild disgust. Embarrassed, Clint covered himself with both hands, trying to come up with a reply. But yet another voice distracted him: "Oh, don't be such a prude, Clint... We won't judge you any worse than we already do..." Clint turned behind him, and a third Tony was trapping a pretty disheveled Natasha between himself and the kitchen counter, his hands running up and down her body, making her moan in delight. What the hell is happening?! Another slap, followed by Wanda's giggling shriek, made him turn back to the first Tony. "Poor doe-eyed bastard," Tony said mockingly, "his own perverted fantasies are turning against him..." "Well, he deserves it," Laura said, kissing her Tony and running a hand down his abdomen and towards his belt. "Definitely. And that's just what they are: fantasies," Natasha purred as the third Tony continued his ministrations, biting her neck slightly, "he would never be able to satisfy us like Tony does." Clint didn't know what to do: "But... but I-" "Face it, Clint," Wanda said, "you are pathetic... You're-" her speech was cut by Tony Number One spanking her again and getting another delighted yelp out of her, "You're a complete and utter loser compared to Tony," she finished. "Yeah, pathetic and lame," Laura giggled, "you really need to wake up and face the truth, Clint..." Clint shook his head, incapable of any coherent thought. "You heard the lady. Wake up, Barton..." Tony Number Two said. "W... wha..." "They told you to wake up," Tony Number Three said as he caressed Natasha's breasts. "But..." He turned to look behind him, and there was a fourth Tony there. His eyes were glowing orange and he looked livid. He only shouted one thing: "WAKE UP!" Clint woke with a start and tried to sit upright in his bed. The straitjacket they had put on him made him lose balance and he fell on the floor. "Damn it..." He felt the anger boil inside him as he started trashing against the restraint. He was crawling like a worm on the floor, unable to sit up. "Goddammit..." he growled harshly, causing drool to fall out of his mouth. Trying to crawl back towards the bed to wipe the spit off with the blankets, he lost balance again, falling back on his rear. It made him even angrier. "God damn it!" he shouted again, before hitting his forehead on the padded floor of his cell and starting to scream like an animal. It was not his first episode, and it wouldn't be the last. A psychiatrist had visited him, but had concluded that Clint was not actually going crazy. His current behaviour was just him venting a lot of repressed anger and frustration in the only way he could... and maybe a small part of it was him consciously making a scene so they would think he had actually lost his mind and transfer him out of the Raft and into a psychiatric facility. A place easier to escape from. Reassured that the archer did not, in fact, have to be shipped to a looney bin, the guards of the Raft had actually become bored of watching his hissy fits and had stopped paying him any attention. That had made him even more frustrated, which in turn, made his episodes even more violent. And his nightmares more absurd. But at least, he was not the only one who had nightmares in that place. *** Steve opened the door of the elevator that had taken them down to the lowest sublevel of the Hydra base. Bucky's steadfast presence behind him was grounding, it made him feel whole, confident, in a way he hadn't felt ever since Bucky had fallen off that blasted train in the Alps more than seventy years ago. It didn't matter how many Winter Soldiers Zemo had on his side. Steve and Bucky were back together. Nothing could stop them. They moved through the corridors of the bunker, their weapons at the ready. Bucky was in front, leading Steve through the familiar base. Then, all of a sudden, a sharp noise made them turn. They both dropped to a crouch on the stairs, Bucky pointing his gun at the double doors at the end of the corridor while Steve raised his shield to protect them both. "Ready?" Steve asked. There was no answer. Dread filled his heart as he turned towards Bucky, only to find he was gone. Nowhere to be seen. "Bucky! Buck, where are you?" he called. But another noise from the doors made him turn again. This was bad. He had lost sight of Bucky right when these guys had decided to show up. Where the hell had Bucky gone? Then the doors were forced open, and Steve couldn't stop a sharp intake of breath. Tony lowered his arms from the doors and slowly started to approach him. Steve was almost horrified at how he looked. His helmet was missing, his face beaten, bruised and covered in blood. On the chest plate of his armor, a horizontal cut had torn the Arc Reactor in half. "Tony..." Steve called. "It's over, Steve," Tony said. His voice was calm, almost subdued. Not at all like Tony Stark usually was. His expression was emotionless, almost... lifeless. "What do you mean? What is over?" Steve asked, fearing the worst. "The Winter Soldiers are dead, Steve," Tony replied, tilting his head slightly to the left, "all of them." Steve turned sharply. Behind him, the corridor had disappeared, and they found themselves in a large room with six cryo-chambers. Five of them were still closed, the Soldiers inside them, each shot dead with a bullet to the head. The sixth chamber was open. Bucky sat in the chair, slumped to one side, his left arm gone and a massive hole in his chest. He was dead too. Steve turned to Tony, rage threatening to make him lose what little rationality he had left: "What have you done!?" he yelled. Tony didn't answer, still staring at him with that emotionless gaze. Someone else answered in his stead: "He did the right thing," a voice behind Steve said. The supersoldier turned to see Sam standing behind him: "I told you, Steve. He wasn't a guy that needed to be saved. He was a guy that had to be stopped." Steve couldn't even think of an answer. None of this made sense. And then Sam continued: "And so are you." Steve didn't understand: "What?" he breathed. Sam's expression became disappointed: "Tony offered you a chance to fix everything. To make our actions in Bucharest legal and to get Bucky the help he needed. And you turned him down. You didn't even tell me of the deal that had been put on the table, you just assumed I would fall in line. And for what?" "For me," a new voice piped in. Steve turned, seeing Wanda emerge from the darkness. He tried to reply, but Wanda continued: "Or at least that's what I thought. I thought you were giving me a second chance with the Avengers, Steve. That you were giving me a new you would have taken care of me. But the only reason you took me in no questions asked was so that people could accept Sargeant Barnes, an unwilling Hydra assassin into the Avengers, since they had already accepted a willing one. That, and maybe so that I could help him with my powers. When you heard I was confined at the compound? It was just an excuse. You simply couldn't afford to have Tony and Bucky in the same room, could you, Steve? All of this was for Bucky." "Well, what did you expect?" another voice said. Nick Fury walked out of a corner behind one of the cryo-chambers: "He's willing to cover up a friend's murder for his precious Bucky. Of course it was for him." "Definitely," Sharon's voice came up. Steve turned and saw her walking to stand next to Tony: "he's even willing to manipulate you for his precious Bucky. I would know. He used me twice to help him pull their asses out of the fire." Steve tried to reply, but couldn't, because another voice spoke: "Just like he did with me," Steve reeled from hearing Peggy's voice, as she appeared from behind Sharon: "He even convinced me to cross enemy lines for his friend. And when he believed he was dead after he fell from that train, he decided there was nothing else worth living for. So he immediately tried to kill himself by crashing that plane in the ice. He didn't even spare me a second thought." Steve's anguish was mounting with every new person that appeared. And in the centre of it all, stood Tony, unmoving, glaring at him with that burning gaze. Steve shook his head, trying to explain himself: "Please, I-" "No, Steve," a new voice said harshly. This time it was Natasha's. She appeared from behind Bucky's chamber and came to stand on Tony's other side, opposite from Sharon: "You are not going to talk your way out of this. Not this time. I fell for your pretty speeches, I turned against my friends for you and I have nothing to show for it!" "And you were one of the lucky ones," yet another voice said. Steve turned to see Pepper standing behind him, "Tony came here to help him and this criminal nearly killed him..." "...Using the shield I made for him," Howard finished for her, appearing from the darkness behind Pepper. Steve had never been so scared in his entire life. "Howard-" he stuttered, but Tony's father cut him off: "How dare you, Steve? How fucking dare you use my weapon and the strenght that I helped give you to hurt my son!?" he seethed. "You nearly killed him!" Friday exclaimed, appearing on Pepper's other side, "and then you lied to your own team about it! You lied to everyone!" "You lied to me!" Erskine's accented voice spoke as he appeared next to Howard. Steve took a step back. "You promised me you would remain a good man. Instead, you became worse than Schmidt. At least he didn't try to justify his crimes with a disgusting mask of self-righteousness like you do, Steve. You're my biggest failure!" Erskine shouted. "He's just a liar!" Clint echoed, appearing next to Natasha, "I will never see my family again because of him!" "And my daughter now hates me!" Scott yelled as he appeared next to Sam, "because he couldn't be bothered to tell me the whole story! He's just a disgusting liar!" "And a horrible friend!" one more voice exclaimed, and it was the voice who hit Steve the hardest. He turned, and Bucky was standing behind him, opposite to Tony, completing the circle ot people that trapped him between them and cutting off his only way to escape. "Bucky, no..." Steve pleaded. "You forced me to work with a Hydra agent! You dragged me all around the world causing destruction and making me a terrorist! You say I'm not to blame for the Winter Soldier? Thanks to you, now James Barnes is no better than him! You ruined my life! I hate you!" Steve reeled back as if he'd been struck, but he didn't have time to reply as everyone started to yell at him. All their voices echoed over one another: "Liar!" "Criminal!" "Murderer!" "Monster!" Steve turned frantically in every direction, pleading with his eyes and his voice: "No, please... I didn't know... I didn't mean-" They only shouted louder: "Bastard!" "Traitor!" "You deserve to die!" "Kill him!" "Kill him!" Steve was desperate. He fell down on his knees, still shaking his head in denial and raking his hands through his hair. All of his friends had now settled on yelling the same thing: kill him. He looked up, tears running down from his eyes. Tony stood right in front of him. He was the only one who wasn't shouting. And Steve understood. They were urging Tony to kill him. He watched with dread as Iron Man slowly raised his hand, the repulsor glowing a blinding light in his palm, like a modern Grim Geaper raising his scythe. "Tony, please... Please..." Steve begged. Tony's face contorted into an ugly sneer, as his eyes started glowing like burning coals: "I'd say it's nothing personal, but that would be a lie. And lying is bad, isn't it, Cap?" "Please, no... NOOO!" Iron Man fired. Steve woke abruptly. His hands were trembling, his heart beating so hard it looked like it was trying to burst out of his chest. Looking around, he only saw the gray, metallic walls of his cell. He fell back down on the mattress, breathing heavily and willing his heart to slow down to a normal pace. The nightmares plagued his sleep every night, and they were getting worse. After a few minutes, he managed to focus enough to hear the screams coming from the direction of Clint's cell. They were muffled, barely audible, and Steve suspected he wouldn't be able to hear them at all if not for his enhanced hearing. But he could, and it was scaring him to death every time he heard them. Clint too was haunted by nightmares. He had been ever since they had left Wakanda. Now, in the Raft, the archer had completely lost it. Steve didn't care what the psychiatrist had said, Clint had lost his mind, descended into madness. How long was it going to take for Steve to lose his sanity too? No, he needed to fight this. He needed to stay strong. His team still needed a leader. What team? a part of his mind wondered, We were taken down one by one. Everyone has been thrown into a different prison, there's only Clint here and he's gone batshit crazy... Suddenly, Steve remembered Bruce's words: "We're a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We're... we're a time bomb." Those words had been said on the very day the Avengers had assembled for the first time. And they had proven to be true. The Avengers had been terribly flawed, right from their inception. And yet... nowadays, the Avengers were still going strong. Tony had slowly, painfully corrected all the flaws, and turned that ragtag group of superheroes into a real team. Under Tony's leadership, things had gone flawlessly for the Avengers after the Civil War. But for his team, things had gone to hell. Wanda had been taken somewhere in Asia, to a community of sorcerers, or something like that. Steve wasn't sure of the details, they refused to tell him too much. There was not much to tell anyway: Wanda was a dangerous criminal who had been convicted and locked up in one of the very few places in the world where she could be detained safely. And she was a criminal because of him. Poor girl. She was probably one of those Steve had wronged the most. She had wanted a second chance, a chance to prove herself, to make amends for her past mistakes, to do the right thing, but Steve had taken it from her. If he had just left her at the Compound after Lagos, she would have been fine. If he had just let Tony protect her, she would have been fine. And Tony was willing to protect her back then. Just like he was willing to help all of them. Including him, Bucky and Sam after Bucharest. In the end, Sam had been sentenced to fourteen years, with the possibility of parole in ten. He was the one who had gotten the lightest sentence. Partly because he had surrendered willingly to the Avengers, and partly because he had testified against him. Steve had been shocked when the prosecution had called Sam to the stand, and even more shocked when he had testified that he had only ever followed Steve's orders, from the moment they had stolen the Falcon gear back during the fall of SHIELD, all the way to Philadelphia, when they were trying to 'save' Bucky from himself. When asked why he had decided to surrender at that point, Sam had answered: "When Mr. Rogers crashed our van through the blockade set by the police, ignoring every civilian bystander in the vicinity, I came to the realization that this was not what I had signed up for. Steve... Mr. Rogers, he was having tunnel vision. He was only focused on Barnes, screw everyone and everything else. We weren't fighting for the people. We were fighting for Bucky Barnes." During the entirety of Sam's testimony, Steve had glared at him, almost daring him to look him in the eye as he threw him under the bus. But after that answer, he had lowered his gaze, ashamed and defeated. Even Sam had seen how compromised he was, in the end. It seemed that only he himself hadn't realized it. They had only locked gazes once, as Sam left the stand and got back to his seat. There was sorrow in Sam's eyes, but it was mostly eclipsed by anger and disappointment. It was what Steve deserved, after all. It was only fair that Sam returned Steve the favour, after Steve had decided not to tell him of the deal Tony had put on the table for them in Berlin. Just like he hadn't told Scott anything about the Accords. Scott had actually cried during his trial. His previous hiccups with the law - and the fact that Scott was still a convicted felon and he had broken parole to join Steve's team - didn't do him any favor, but he was doomed anyway. Because on top of everything else, he had to deal with an enraged Hope Van Dyne. Much to Steve's surprise, Tony hadn't tried to interfere with the trials in any way. He hadn't pushed for harsher sentences for any of them. But Van Dyne? She looked like she had dedicated her life to destroying Scott's and Hank's. PymTech had sued both of them, at first even asking for separate trials independent from the ones Scott and Hank were already facing, but then decided to just add their charges to the ones pressed by the UN. Van Dyne was on the warpath, just like Pepper. Scott's lawyer - a public defender, since Scott couldn't afford to pay a lawyer on his own - had tried to argue that Scott had originally been contacted to fight the five Winter Soldiers that Steve had been warned about, which at that point were a legitimate threat because nobody could know that Zemo's plan wasn't to use them, and after that, he had been merely following Steve, because after escaping the Raft he was already a fugitive and he couldn't go home without compromising the rest of his team. The judge and jury didn't buy that for a second. The prosecution had countered that in Leipzig, Scott had first tried to sabotage the Iron Man suit, and then he had gone giant and caused massive property damage while engaging Iron Man, War Machine, Spiderman, Vision and Black Panther. Three of them were world-renowned superheroes and another was a head of state. There was no way Scott could have argued he was fighting the 'bad guys'. Then, the prosecution had covered him in mud for his part in Pennsylvania, where Scott had gone giant again and nearly caused a nuclear disaster. And then he had gone giant yet again in Philadelphia. It was only thanks to the Avengers' immediate reaction that he was stopped before massive destruction had occurred all over again. It took the jury less than fifteen minutes to find him guilty of all charges. He was sentenced to thirty-one years. Steve saw it on television: when Scott heard the sentence, he had a nervous breakdown. First he laughed hysterically for a minute or so, then when a guard grabbed him by the elbow, he snapped and lashed out. The guard restrained him with the help of a colleague, and Scott burst out crying. He was dragged out kicking and screaming, desperately yelling his daughter's name. It was the last Steve had seen of him. Having decimated Scott, Van Dyne then focused on her father, and Hank Pym didn't end up much better than his protegé. PymTech's legal team had gotten Liam Edwards and Bridget Leary to testify against him. The two former SHIELD agents exposed all of Hank's dirty laundry from his career at SHIELD back in the day. Hank had done some pretty questionable things in two decades of being a secret agent during the Cold War. In the end, he got nineteen years. At his age, it was practically a life sentence. And Clint was there, only a few rooms down the hallway from Steve's door, serving twenty-two years. Wanda, Sam, Scott, Clint... He hadn't cared about them. He had needed them in Leipzig. He had brought them with him to win. He had used them so he could keep Bucky with him and away from everyone else. And Bucky... Bucky had been shipped to a psychiatric facility in a classified location somewhere in the United States, on the ground of severely diminished mental capacity. His destiny was still up in the air, his trial being suspended because it was nearly impossible to ascertain how far Hydra's conditioning went, how damaged his brain was. How much of Bucky from Brooklyn was left and how much had been replaced by the Winter Soldier. Steve was surprised that Pepper Potts, in particular, hadn't tried to destroy Bucky's image like she had done with him - and boy, had she done a thorough job with that. Steve had been sentenced to fifty years, a good chunk of which were because of Pepper's contribution, her testimony and the evidence she had brought to the trial. Pepper became vicious when someone crossed her. Especially when someone wronged Tony. So Steve had been fully expecting her to do everything in her power to ensure that Bucky was thrown in the deepest, darkest pit she could find. Instead, she hadn't done anything to Bucky, seemingly content with crushing only Steve's reputation under her heel. Steve had asked to be able to contact Bucky, to explain to him that he only ever had his best interest at heart, that everything he had done, he had done for him. But he was denied. Just like he had been denied contact with Sam, Scott and Wanda. The guards had told him that nobody wanted to risk him conspiring with his brown-nosers to cause further problems. He had tried to protest, to say that he was not planning anything illegal, that he had the right to speak with his friends. They had answered that he had lost that right the moment he decided to become a terrorist and lay waste of a German task force in Bucharest, and convicted terrorists were not allowed to speak with each other. Besides, nobody believed him anymore when he said he was gonna behave and keep on the straight and narrow. After all, he had lied on his enlistment form five times when he had tried to join the Army. So Bucky was now completely out of reach for him. He couldn't even know if he was all right, if he was hurt, or in danger... And it was his own fault. Not knowing was making him sick with worry. And oddly enough, the thing that unsettled him the most was Tony's behaviour. Van Dyne's rage had been focused on Scott and Hank. Pepper's had been focused on Steve. But Tony... Tony had completely washed his hands with all of it. He had captured them, thrown them in jail, and then he had just turned his back on them. Steve was worried of what he was going to do when he finally decided to make his move. Or maybe he was just scared of a blow that would never come. Tony had had plenty of opportunities to do whatever he wanted to harm Bucky, both legally and physically. If he hadn't done anything so far, it was unlikely he was planning on doing anything at all. Tony had never been one to play the waiting game. And that meant Bucky had never been in any real danger of Tony wanting revenge for the death of his parents. But Steve had ruined everything. He had misjudged Tony, and that had led to an impossible situation in Siberia. Because of that, Tony had lashed out, Steve had reacted, and Bucky had been caught in the middle. And then it had all gone to shit from there. All because Steve had made the decision of denying Tony the closure he deserved. As he sat there, trying to recover from his nightmare while also trying to tune out Clint's screams from down the hallway, he couldn't help but think of all the people that had accused him of being the only cause of this monumental disaster. Tony, Sharon, Natasha, Pepper, Tony's daughter, the entire world... they had all told him it was his fault. They were right. *** Wanda was laying down on the gurney as List's assistants were strapping her to it. All of this... all of it felt so wrong. She felt trapped like she had been when she was ten, under the ruins of her destroyed apartment block, staring at that unexploded bomb. No... This is wrong... This shouldn't be happening... She could see the scepter glowing on some kind of pedestal in the middle of the room. In a few moments, the Scarlet Witch would be born. No... No... I don't want to... Please... She tried to speak, but found that she couldn't. She turned her head and looked at Pietro, laying on the gurney next to hers. He nodded encouragingly, an evil look in his eyes. He wanted his revenge. He didn't know better. "Are we ready?" List asked his goons. "We are, Doctor," one of them answered. "Good. Get out of here." The two assistants hastily obliged. List then slowly walked up to Wanda with a hungry sneer on his face. He ran his fingers down Wanda's cheek: "You..." he hissed, "In a few minutes, you will become the new fist of Hydra. You will be the most powerful weapon we've ever had at our disposal. You will wreak havoc and destruction upon the entire world, so that we may rise upon the ruins and usher a new era." Wanda tried to shake her head, but she was paralyzed by fear. List's face got closer to hers, creepily so: "You will be my masterpiece." No... Please, no... I don't want to be turned into a monster! Please! She thrashed slightly, trying desperately to get free. List didn't even notice as he pulled back and went to retrieve the scepter. He put a rubber glove on his hand and took hold of the alien artifact, before turning again towards Wanda: "Now, my miracles. It is time to leave it all behind. It is time to-" He was cut off by a repulsor blast punching straight through his chest. His expression morphed into one of absolute shock as he struggled to remain standing, a small trickle of blood starting to make its way down the corner of his mouth. He fell forward, dead before he hit the ground, and Wanda could finally see who had struck him. Friday Stark, Lady Iron, stood there, her arm still raised for the lethal shot that had claimed List's life, her helmet off, showing her face. Wanda was even more scared than before. Friday slowly lowered her arm, crouching down to retrieve the scepter from List's dead hand: "I'll be taking this, thank you very much," she said casually, grabbing the scepter and slowly walking up to the twins. Again Wanda tried to speak, to call for help, and again she found that she couldn't. Pietro made to say something, but Friday stopped him: "Hold that thought," she said, touching his chest with the tip of the scepter, "Goodnight, Quickie," she laughed as Pietro lost consciousness and slumped on his gurney. Wanda thrashed again. Oh God, what has she done to him!? This time, Friday seemed to notice her attempts to break free: "Hey, no no no, shhh-sh-sh-sh, no need to get all worked up, I only made him sleep," she said, caressing Wanda's hair with her armored hand, before moving it down her cheek in mock affection: "I don't care about him... it's you who has to pay!" Saying that, she closed her hand around Wanda's throat and squeezed. Wanda's eyes bulged in fear. This time she didn't even try to thrash against the restraints, she didn't dare move a muscle as Friday leaned down on her, her eyes glowing orange and a murderous expression on her face. Then Friday put the scepter right between them, so that both of them could look at it very closely: "You wanted this, didn't you? You wanted its power..." No... No, please, I was wrong... I was a fool, I didn't know... "You wanted its power so you could destroy my father..." Friday continued, moving the scepter slightly so that her face was eerily bathed in its blue glow. No! I would never hurt Tony! I... I l-love him... "You became a lab rat so you could have your revenge..." Friday continued, not privy to Wanda's thoughts as for some reason she still couldn't speak. Friday backed away a bit, lowering the scepter towards Wanda: "So let's make an experiment, shall we?" she asked, flicking a small switch under Wanda's gurney. It started to rotate on its center, moving to an almost vertical position so Wanda was nearly standing up. Friday moved closer again. She now had a vindictive sneer etched on her face: "Let's see how much pain I manage to cause you using this fancy glowstick, before you meet your maker..." she hissed, pressing the tip of the scepter against Wanda's cheek and dragging it down towards her jaw, drawing blood. Wanda screamed as she woke from her nightmare. She looked around, breathing heavily as she took in the familiar walls of her latest living quarters. Of her latest cell. The last one in a long series of prisons she had ended up in. The Masters of the Mystic Arts didn't look at her with barely concealed fear, like almost everyone had always done ever since she got her powers. She appreciated that, finally not being seen as a monster, but really... now she was barely seen at all. Hardly anybody at Kamar Taj ever spared her a second glance. Nobody cared about her. She could die where she stood, and nobody would care. Ever since her parents were killed, Pietro had been the only one who cared for her. When he died, she had felt like she was dying herself. She felt it all as if she was living it in first person. The bullets tearing through her own flesh, her lungs slowly filling up with blood, her strenght waning, the pain increasing, more and more... She had thought the shock would have been enough to kill her. After that, she had deluded herself about having found a new family in the Avengers. But the Avengers were never a family, or even a team. Not after the only person who had ever tried to make them work had quit right when she had joined. She realized it now. Steve only saw her as an asset to further his agenda. Tony had been the only one who cared. He was the one who payed for everything even after leaving the team, who always cleaned up their messes and who provided all of their equipment. And all he had asked of them was to let themselves be held accountable to the people they were supposed to protect. And they had all spit in his face. No wonder he wanted nothing to do with them anymore. Wanda had chosen to stand with Steve. Of course she had, she hated Tony back then... Tony, who had tried to protect her by telling Vision to stay with her. Who had accepted her into the Avengers after she had very nearly ruined his life and tried to kill him. Who had given her a house, and food, and clothes, and money... Tony, who was the most wonderful man in the universe... If only she could go back and do things right. But she couldn't. Tony was lost for her. He already had a family. A girlfriend and a daughter, both of whom hated her guts. Not that she hadn't given them reason to. And even not considering them... she would never be good enough for him. She was a monster, and he was an angel. She could spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to him, and not come even close to deserving his forgiveness. She would never be able to change enough to even entertain the possibility of being with him without tainting him, without corrupting his goodness. More than half her life, she had been intent on destroying Tony. How could she possibly ever fix that? She couldn't. At this point, after all that had happened, the only thing she could do was respect him and stay away from him. Let him live his life and not cause him anymore problems. Let him go. But it hurts so much... Because I... I love him! Tears started prickling at her eyes. She had hated him for all his life, and then she had found the truth about those bombs. Everything had fallen apart. The driving force of her live had suddenly disappeared. And that was just the start. She had been scared when she had realized she had fallen for Tony, but somehow, this newfound feeling had given her new life. Tony was once again the reason she got out of the bed in the morning. But, because she was evil, and childish, and stupid, she had messed that up too. Now Tony was out of reach, this time forever. Now, she had nothing left. There was nothing for her in the world. No reason left to live Rhodey had to search for a while before he managed to find Hope. He had been itching to talk to her since that morning, when he received the news. He found her in the living room. She was sat on the couch, watching the TV - or rather, staring absently at it. She hadn't even heard him come in. "You ok?" Rhodey asked softly, making his presence known. Hope actually jumped a little at his voice. She gave him a little smile that didn't reach her eyes: "Yeah. I'm fine," she replied. Rhodey wasn't so sure about it. He went to her and sat on the couch next to her, circling her shoulders with his arm. She went willingly, putting her head on his shoulder. "Are you sure?" Rhodey asked again, after a moment of silence. "I'm fine, Rhodey," she replied. Feeling his analytic gaze, however, Hope huffed: "He was old and senile," she continued, "and he was prone to violent outbursts. He practically asked for that aneurysm." "He was still your father, Hope," Rhodey remarked. "Yeah, biologically speaking, maybe so," she muttered. Rhodey just stared at her: "So you don't even wanna talk about it? At all?" "There's not much to say. A convicted criminal, who ruined my life, had an aneurysm and died in prison where he belonged. If anything, I can finally forget about him and move on," Hope spat with venom. Rhodey just nodded, accepting the fact that Hope's relationship with her recently passed father was clearly ruined beyond repair. For a few minutes neither of them said anything more. They just sat there, watching the TV. "Tony warned me, you know," Hope finally said after a while, untangling herself from him and sitting up, turning slightly to face him but keeping her gaze low, "Back when Hank had the first stroke a few months ago... Tony told me that despite all his daddy issues, one of his biggest regrets was never having the occasion to sort things out with his old man. He said I still had a chance and I shouldn't throw it away." Rhodey turned to her: "But you didn't listen to him," he surmised. "No. Because it's different," Hope explained, "Tony, his father and Rogers have never been and never will be all together in the same room. So Tony will never know what Howard would do if he knew what Tony knows now. But I do. I was there when my father stabbed me in the back to help Rogers. I know what Hank would have done, because I've seen it with my own two eyes. And I will never be able to forgive him, much less sort things out with him. Now he's dead and... I don't feel anything. I'm not sad, I'm not angry, nothing. To me, my father died in San Francisco two and a half years ago when I found him abetting terrorists." Rhodey took a deep breath: "So you're fine?" he asked. "Yes," Hope replied convinced, snuggling back against his arm, "I'm fine." He squeezed her against him and kissed the crown of her head. They sat there in companionable silence, watching TV. *** As soon as he got to Tony's lab, Harley knew he was gonna have a lot of fun: it was always fun when Peter and Friday were in the same room. The poor, clueless spider was head over heels for Tony's daughter. He had been ever since Harley first met the guy, more than a year and a half ago. You could see it from a mile away. Lila Hogan had been the first to make him notice. Harley overheard her gossiping with his sister about it, one time when the Hogans (formerly Bartons) had come over to his house for a visit. The signs were already there, though not as obvious as they were nowadays. Now, Peter's brain seemed to disconnect every time he laid eyes on Fri. Case in point: in that moment, Friday was working on a Porsche engine that laid on a workbench (the thing weighed at least two hundred pounds and yesterday Harley had seen Fri lift it and put it on the table with one hand. Damn, that Extremis juice had to be good stuff). She was wearing a white, form-fitting tank top, ripped skinny jeans and a pair of black Converses. Lately she also kept her hair longer, and now she had pulled it back in a messy ponytail. It was undeniable that she was pretty easy on the eyes. But Peter? He was in a corner, staring at her like a doe-eyed moron. Honestly, it was almost pitiable to look at. Apparently Tony had noticed as well, judging from the knowing looks he was sending Peter's way and the mischievous smirk on his face. In Peter's defence, he was in a difficult situation. On a scale of one to ten, Friday was 'The Hypothetical Eleven'. She had a heart of gold, she was super smart (a half-computer hive mind tended to make you pretty intelligent, Harley guessed), and she was also one of the most famous superheroes in the world, not to mention the heiress of the biggest tech empire on Earth. Oh, and she was also hot. Like, insanely hot. Harley himself was not left indifferent by her, but he knew that if he tried to go for it poor Peter would run away crying, lock himself in a bathroom and probably try to drown himself in the sink. As a friend, it would be too heartbreaking for Harley to watch. Also, his sister, Cassie Lang and Lila Hogan all 'shipped Spiday', whatever the hell that meant. Harley knew better than to provoke their wrath. So Harley was not gonna judge. But he was gonna tease. He entered the workshop and, after fist-bumping Tony, he hugged Friday and kissed her on the cheek, already laughing internally at Peter's jealous look and Tony's teasing, knowing one. Friday smiled brightly at him, more than happy to play along. Harley knew she was soft on Peter too, so maybe she was trying to make him jealous. Who knew. Who cared. Winding Peter up a bit was always fun. He lingered in the hug just a couple of seconds longer than strictly necessary, feeling Peter's eyes still burning holes into the side of his head. It was actually amazing how Spider-Boy could pull a murder face and a kicked puppy one at the same time. I'm also doing it for you, Pete, Harley thought, You need to get off your scrawny ass and make a move. Fri could literally have any man she wants with a snap of her fingers, she's not gonna wait for you forever. "How's it going, Keenster?" Tony asked. "Eh, the usual," Harley replied, "Bit bummed it's my second to last day here. Figured I could come to the lab and make good use of the time I have left before I go back to Tennessee... And hang out a bit with you guys," he smiled. Friday smiled back, but then all of a sudden her expression changed abruptly to one of full seriousness: "I'm afraid that's gonna have to wait. I just received a notification," she said gravely, "Avengers Assemble." Both Tony and Peter perked up: "What happened?" asked Tony. "Someone just attacked the New York Stock Exchange in Wall Street," Friday answered, "looks like there's about forty to fifty hostiles, according to the police. Maybe more inside the building." Tony turned towards the exit, his expression suddenly all business: "Jocasta?" he called. Tony's latest AI answered immediately: "The Ninja and Stinger suits are powered up and ready. Colonel Rhodes and the others are already in the hangar," she reported with a Scottish lilt in her voice. "Alright. We're coming," Tony replied before turning to Harley, while walking backwards towards the exit of the lab, "Don't go away, kid. They're just a bunch of common criminals, we won't take long," he said before leaving. "See you later, Harley," Friday winked at him before following her father out. "Well," Harley sighed, turning to Peter, "looks like for now it's just you and me, Pete," he said, wanting to see how Peter was gonna weave his way out this time. Cooper had told him that Peter was Spiderman more than two years ago, and Peter still thought nobody knew. Peter made a show of looking at his watch and hit his palm on his forehead: "Oh no! I forgot!" he exclaimed, "I promised May I'll be home for lunch today!" Harley gave him an unimpressed look. Dude, seriously? How stupid do you think I am? Both Tony and Friday told me to stay here, but they said nothing to you... "It's almost half past two in the afternoon," he remarked, "and it's gonna take at least two hours for Happy to drive you back to Queens..." Peter stumbled like an idiot for a good ten seconds: "Well, exactly," he managed at last, "I'm already spectacularly late! I have to go! See you, Harley!" he yelled behind his back, running out of the lab. Left alone, Harley shook his head fondly at Peter's antics: "Hey, Jo?" he called. "Yes, Harley?" the young AI replied. "How long do you think before he figures out that I already know he's Spiderman?" "I don't know. Probably around the same time he figures out how to ask Big Sis out on a date," Friday's little sister answered coyly. Jocasta was a scheming little shit. No wonder she and Harley got along like a house on fire. Harley shook his head again and brought up the schematics of the armor he was designing on a holographic display. The project was almost ready, and he could start construction soon. He was going to turn eighteen in four months, and he wanted his suit at least ready for testing by then. He didn't want to waste any time before joining the Avengers. *** As the Quinjet with the Avengers on board tore through the skies, a conversation was taking place. But it was a conversation nobody could hear, because it was taking place between Friday's and Jocasta's servers. "I think you should make the first move," Jocasta said. "I think you should mind your own business," Friday replied. "Aw, come on! How can't you see he's pining like a puppy in the rain? Look at him!" In the jet, Friday actually gazed at Peter, who awkwardly jerked his head away from her and started whistling casually. Friday smiled and looked down. Jo had a point, but she would never admit it to her: "You know, for a weapons specialist you sure seem to know an awful lot about this kind of things..." Friday told her, hoping to change the subject. "I'm a learning program just like you," Jocasta replied, "my main function might be the maintenance and upgrading of your armours, but that doesn't mean I can't have hobbies... also, you're trying to change the subject, aren't you?" Friday rolled her eyes. With the increasing number of people using Boss' armours, he had decided to put Jocasta in charge of maintenance, repairs and upgrading for all the Iron Man, Lady Iron, War Machine and Rescue suits, especially the latter two series, because the respective users weren't qualified to run maintenance and upgrading on their own. Friday loved her little sister, but sometimes she could really be a thorn in her side. Although... wasn't that always the case with little siblings? "What do you tell me about Harley, Jo?" Friday finally replied, deciding that the best defence was a good offence, "I know you like him." To Friday's delight, Jocasta actually took some time to come up with an answer: "Unlike you, I don't have a physical presence, and that makes a romantic relationship kind of difficult... So I settled for playing matchmaker for my lovely big sister. Come on, Fri, don't you feel that energy running between the two of you? Embrace it, Sis! Embrace the energy-" Mercifully, at this point, the jet had reached the destination and Colonel Rhodes had started giving orders: "Friday, I want you to hack the servers and shut these assholes out," he told her. "Sorry Jo, duty calls. We'll continue this conversation never," she said hastily. "Aw, come on! You have enough processing power to do your job, speak with me, win a chess game against Bobby Fisher and do three hundred more things at the same time!" Jocasta protested, but it was useless. Friday had already cut the connection and shut the younger AI out of her servers. "...Rude," Jo whined, before connecting to Karen. If she couldn't persuade Friday, she could always work on it using the opposite approach and conspire with their youngest sister to talk Peter into making the first move. *** "Come on, guys! Get a move on! We have to get out of here before they can react! This is Wall Street, they might even call the Avengers!" the leader of the terrorists ordered. "Calm down, man, we are almost done," one of the three hackers retorted confidently. In a few minutes the entire mainframe would be theirs. Wall Street was going to be at their whim: "We have everything under control," he sneered. Just as he said that, all the monitors shut down simultaneously. The hackers stared incredulously as the monitors turned back on. The same phrase was written on all of them: NO, YOU DON'T. Dread filled the four terrorists as they stared at each other. And then, all of a sudded the leader seized like he was being electrocuted and dropped to the floor, unconscious. The three terrorists left scrambled for the exit, but one after the other they were hit by the same invisible force that had hit their leader and were knocked out. Wasp grew out of nowhere and admired her handiwork. Another terrorist barged in from the room and pointed a gun at her, but before he could shoot Hope, he too was electrocuted and fell to the ground unconscious. A second figure unshrunk out of nowhere, facing Hope. His suit was an almost exact replica of the one Darren Cross had developed. "Yellowjacket looks really good on you," Hope smiled. The man took off his helmet, revealing his face: "Well, let's be honest, Ant Man was a pretty lame moniker," Jim Paxton quipped. On the outside, things were more lively. Not knowing that the hackers had been taken out, the armed terrorists were engaging the Avengers as if their life depended on it. They were armed with pretty heavy weaponry, including three old SHIELD Quinjets. "Tony, get the jet on the left; Friday, the one closest to the roof; I'll deal with the third one. Nat, Sharon, Spidey, teach those morons on the ground who's boss. Try not to hurt them too badly," Rhodey commanded. Tony immediately set to deal with his assigned Quinjet. Apparently, the pilot of that aircraft was not very brave: when he saw the Avengers approach, he had immediately decided to hightail it out of there. Tony zoomed right in front of the fleeing Quinjet and landed on its nose in a crouch, theatrically knocking on the wndshield and making a gesture with his hand over his neck to tell the terrorist to land and cut the engines. The pilot looked terrified at the sight of Mark 49 'Ninja', Tony's latest and most advanced suit. It was entirely plated in vibranium. Black was the dominant color, with the usual red and gold only covering small parts of the armor plating. The usual scowl of the faceplate was even more pronounced than usual... and the seven guys Tony could see inside the Quinjet all looked like they were about to shit their pants in fear. Tony hacked into the comm of the jet and his voice resonated in the cockpit: "Are you going to land this bird or do I have to do it for you?" he asked menacingly, pointing his fist against the canopy right at the pilot's face as a tank missile sprouted from his forearm. The pilot almost soiled himself. Another Quinjet was following the first one, but this one seemed to have a more ballsy pilot. He lowered the minigun under the nose of his craft and prepared to shoot both Iron Man and his own colleagues. He hadn't seen War Machine coming at him. "Pull over, bitch!" Rhodey exclaimed, body-slamming himself onto the right side of the jet. It veered harshly off course as its right wing broke at the impact. Rhodey steered the falling plane away from buildings and led it to crash in the middle of an empty street, then tore off the back ramp of the wrecked jet with his hands and pointed all his guns to the dazed and wounded men inside: "Hope you enjoyed the ride, fellas. But next time, you should go to Coney Island." *** Some terrorists wielding machine guns were trying to shoot Black Widow and Agent 13, who had taken cover behind a Prius parked on the other side of the street. In a moment when they had to stop and reload, Natasha tried to get out of her cover and shoot them. She managed to clip one of the goons in the leg, but he shot a volley of bullets in retaliation that forced her to duck for cover again. "Always with those tiny 22s," Sharon reproached, "When are you going to get some proper guns? At least get a couple of 9mm's!" "You Americans," Nat scoffed, "always obsessed with high calibres..." Sharon smirked: "And with good reason," she retorted before leaping out from behind her cover and shooting the same guy Natasha had shot earlier, only this time he dropped to the ground holding his arm and howling in pain. "See?" Sharon bragged, waving her 45 at Natasha's face. The Widow didn't have time to respond, however, because the other goons had reprised shooting the car Nat and Sharon were hiding behind like there was no tomorrow. Nat had grown tired. She threw a taser disk over the car that released a powerful electrical discharge as soon as it hit the ground. Several terrorists were electrocuted. "Spidey, little help?" she called as the five remaining ones continued firing. One second later, all five remaining terrorists were webbed to the wall of the building behind them, unable to move even a pinky finger. Spiderman dropped in a crouch right in front of them: "All packed up. Wow, I have a future in deliveries," he quipped. Sharon and Natasha shot down four more terrorists that had come out of the building, as one of Quinjets was gently deposited on the ground by Lady Iron, its tail ripped off and its left wing burning. Lady Iron landed and dropped the destroyed jet on the tarmac, rising to her full height only to be hit by a bazooka right between her shoulder blades. When the smoke cleared, the man who had just shot her watched in horror as she slowly and menacingly turned to look at him over her shoulder, the only damage to her armor being a blackened spot on her back. Friday then fully turned and started to walk up to him. Before she could even make it halfway, the guy had already tossed his weapon and raised his hands, trembling like a leaf. As Sharon rounded up the remaining, surrendering terrorists, the last Quinjet landed vertically in the middle of the street. Tony landed right in front of it, his arm still raised and threatening the occupants with a tank missile. "Come on now, out of the plane! Marsh!" Tony ordered. The rear ramp lowered and the terrorists sulkingly walked out of the jet in an ordinate line, all with their hands behind their heads. "Alright, so these guys were the last ones?" Rhodey asked. "I'm not detecting any more hostiles in the area, Colonel," Friday confirmed as Wasp and Yellowjacket walked out of the building looking like they were just walking out of a bar after taking a coffee. "Five minutes and eleven seconds from initial approach to mission accomplished," Rhodey remarked with an impressed tone: "That's got to be a new record! Great job, team!" Everybody smiled at him. *** As the Quinjet took off to return to the Avengers Compound, Peter sat in the back looking at his phone. Suddenly, a text from Karen appeared on the display: 'A perfectly executed mission, Peter. Congratulations,' it read. He was confused for a moment before texting back: 'Thank you, Karen, but why are you texting me? I still have my earpiece on,' he answered. 'I just wanted to chat with you in private, and the Quinjet is too small and crowded to have a private conversation,' Karen replied. Peter was a bit confused. Since when Karen wanted to talk to him in private? 'Well... Okay, what did you want to tell me?' he texted. 'It's just that you seemed a bit distracted today,' Karen wrote, 'you were not entirely in the groove...' 'These guys were a bunch of incompetents,' Peter texted dismissively, 'one or two of us would have been enough to take them all. I didn't really need to give it my A-game.' 'Yes, but I don't think that's why you were so distracted, were you Peter? I noticed you checking out Friday more than once during the mission...' Peter fumbled for a long moment, unsure of what to write back. It was true. He had drifted a couple times, admiring Friday kicking ass in her amazing suit. And it wasn't the first time... It hadn't immediately clicked. At first, Friday had been just a very good friend. But with time, Peter had grown to really love her kindness, her intelligence, her character... and then one day, he caught himself thinking of how beautiful she looked. He had slowly but surely fallen in love with her, but he had a little trouble externating it. He was too self-conscious, too shy maybe, to act on his burgeoning feelings. After a while, Karen wrote again: 'Friday would be a very lucky girl to have you :)' Peter smiled a little self-deprecating smile: 'I think you got it the wrong way around. I'm the one who would be lucky to have her even just look my way twice...' 'Why do you say that?' Karen asked. 'Because... Come on, she is Friday Stark, and I'm just a nerd from Queens! Why would she even spare me a second thought?' 'Aww, because you're amazing, Peter! Don't look down on yourself like that! :(' 'She's way too good for me, Karen.' 'I think you should let Friday be the judge of that, Peter. She might surprise you. Trust me, I know that. She's my sister, after all ;)' Peter frowned in confusion. What did that mean? What did Karen know? Friday didn't... She didn't really like him back, did she? No, that would be ridiculous... 'What do you mean?' he finally wrote. 'Just that if you stopped thinking Friday is too good for you, you might be in with a chance ;D' Peter's eyes bulged at his phone before he jerked his head towards Friday. She looked his way and smiled. Oh, God... Is it true? Does she actually like me!? Apparently, Peter lingered too much, because Friday's expression became curious. Peter flushed redder than his suit and waved at her awkwardly with a dumb smile. Real smooth, Parker. Now she thinks you're an idiot, Peter thought. But Friday only smiled back at him and looked down. Peter's phone vibrating caught his attention once more. There was another text from Karen: 'A word of advice, Peter: don't wait too long. If you don't make a move she'll turn elsewhere... and she IS Friday Stark, after all. She can have anybody she wants. So man up and go get her, Spiderman!' The Quinjet was landing. Peter gulped and took a deep breath as the rear ramp was lowered. Karen was right. He didn't want to let Friday slip through his fingers. He would beat himself over it forever if he did. "Hey, Friday?" he called as everyone started to disembark, trying to sound as casual as possible. She turned to him, still smiling: "Yes, Peter?" And all of a sudden, all of Peter's resolve had crumbled and his tongue was like a useless lump in his throat. Come on, man! You can do this! "I, uh... I'm... I just wanted to say, uh... Good job back there today," he said in the most awkward way possible, even going as far as to pat Friday's shoulder. Oh, what the hell am I doing!? Friday's brow furrowed slightly, but her smile didn't falter: "Thank you, Peter. You did very good too." They stared at each other for what immediately became the most awkward minute of Peter's eighteen years long life, before he actually managed to reconnect his brain to his mouth: "Say, uh... Since we did so good... would you like to, uh... I mean... have dinner with me? You know, so that we can celebrate a mission well done... We can have dinner... I-I mean, I can b-buy you dinner... If you want to," Peter rambled, before realizing he was making a fool of himself and decided to shut up. Friday looked down with a flattered expression and brushed her hair behind her ear, in a move that made Peter's blood rush towards his nether regions. No, please, don't do that while I'm wearing skin-tight spandex... God, this is so embarrassing, he thought as he cleared his voice and casually joined his hands to cover his gentleman's area, where he suspected his tent was starting to show. Mercifully, Friday didn't seem to notice his problems: "I'd love to, Peter. Thank you for inviting me," she smiled. "Y-you... you... Ok, great! I, um... Do you like Italian?" "Sure!" "Ok... Good! I'll uh, book a table at Luigi's... Y-you... know Luigi's?" Friday giggled: "Yes. It's in Queens, three blocks from your apartment, right?" "Yeah," Peter said, nodding like an imbecile. "What time do you want me to be there?" Friday asked. "Seven! I mean, nine! I mean, eight! 8 pm!" Friday giggled again: "Alright. See you tonight, Peter," she said, smiling at him again and turning to enter the Compound. "...see you tonight, Friday..." Peter whispered. When he finally turned to leave, his face hurt from how much he was smiling. In the same moment, deep in the Dark Net, two very scheming female artificial intelligences were congratulating each other for a job well done. *** Rhodey was in his office, the office that used to be Tony's. More than two years ago, when he had taken over as leader of the Avengers, Tony had insisted that Rhodey moved into this office, saying it was an office purposely made for the leader of the Avengers. Which was bullshit: Rogers had used a different office, during his reign of terror. However, long before Rhodey had recovered from his injuries enough to get into the War Machine suit again, Rogers' office had been repurposed as a broom closet, so Tony did have a point... sort of. Rhodey stared at the blonde woman in front of him. It was not every day that he evaluated a possible new member of the Avengers. In two years, only three new members had joined the team: Sharon Carter, who was already sort of an unofficial member, Jim Paxton, when Hope offered him the new Yellowjacket suit, and much more recently, Peter Parker, right after his eighteenth birthday. Nobody asked Pepper if she wanted in, and she didn't ask to join either: she had a suit and had signed the Accords, but the suit was more for personal protection and to be able to intervene as fast as possible if a member of her family ever got hurt. Besides, being CEO of Stark Industries was a rather time-consuming job. So the Avengers gaining a new member was not a very common occurrence. And this time, it was also a bit awkward. Lieutenant Colonel Carol Danvers was sat in front of him, dressed in full military regalia. Her crisp and composed posture didn't entirely conceal her nervousness. Back when Rhodey had been training recruits, Carol had been his best student. She was a damn good pilot. So good, in fact, that Rhodey had been drawn to her. How could he not? She was fun, intelligent, and she made Maverick look like an amateur... They both knew it was a bad idea. A student/teacher romance was always a bad idea, especially in the military. But that wasn't what cut their budding relationship short. It was the year 2006. Carol had been just promoted to Captain, and she was attached to the flight group of the aircraft carrier USS Carl Vinson, cruising in the Mediterranean Sea. If things went smoothly, in a few months she would have led her own squadron. But things didn't go smoothly at all. The mission was simple reconaissance work, taking a few photographs of possible Al Qaeda outposts in the Iraqi desert. Carol had done several missions like that already; she could practically go through it with her eyes closed. This time was no different, but when she returned to the carrier and made to land, she came in too fast and too low. Her F-35 smashed hard on the flightdeck, its right-hand fuel tank exploding on impact. It slid down nearly half the lenght of the landing deck in a ball of fire, moving towards the port side of the ship. Almost two hundred yards from the stern, the wrecked fighter rolled over the side of the flightdeck and fell in the water. Carol had nearly drowned, managing to get out of the destroyed aircraft just in the nick of time before it sank. Her injuries were not serious, but she had caused a disaster. A member of the carrier's flight personnel had also been thrown overboard in the crash. He survived, but he was in a coma for five weeks, with several broken bones and a few second and third degree burns on his left arm from the explosion of the jet. An inquiry was opened immediately. The Air Force was pissed about their destroyed jet, and the Navy was possibly even more pissed: the carrier itself had sustained negligible damage, basically just a big scorch mark on its flightdeck, but that sailor could very well have died. Once the aircraft's black box was recovered, the investigation panel quickly came to the conclusion that it had been a human mistake. It had been Carol's fault. They took her wings off and downgraded her to First Lieutenant. For Carol, it was devastating. She could have gotten back on a plane in three months time if she had put her back into it, but she had fallen into depression. She started drinking, and failed the reinstatement test twice. Rhodey was trying to support her, but she kept pushing him away. Pushing everyone away. After eight months of yelling and fighting, Rhodey ended it. Weirdly enough - or maybe not so much - that turned out to be exactly the push Carol needed: she went to see a psychiatrist, took care of her alcoholism, and threw herself back into work more determined than ever before. She got her plane back and climbed through the ranks like a cat climbs on a tree, getting her career and her old life back. The one thing she didn't get back was Rhodey. Things remained sour for a long time between them. They only started talking to each other again when Tony told the world: "The truth is... I am Iron Man." Carol had only met Tony three or four times before. She had expected him to hit on her, but maybe he already knew of her and Rhodey's relationship, because he never did. Still, after his memorable press conference, Carol had called Rhodey and labeled him a hypocrite for letting a man with a drinking problem bigger than hers - and a civilian at that - fly into a warzone in a weaponized suit of armor while she had to go through strict evaluation to get her wings back. He retorted by saying that first, no one's drinking problem could possibly be bigger than Carol's, and second, he wasn't allowing anything: Tony had already been subpoenaed to a Senate hearing about the Iron Man suit. The air between the two former lovers started to clear only after the Expo, when Tony and Rhodey had both been awarded medals for how they handled Vanko and Hammer. Carol came to understand that Tony did have a point about holding onto his tech, and what Iron Man had achieved in terms of world peace in just six months was undeniable. Rhodey and Carol still ended up having heated arguments from time to time, but they were making progress. However, neither of them tried to rekindle their romantic relationship. It just... didn't feel right anymore. Then, in 2011, the NASA called Carol and made her an offer she could not refuse. Project Constellation was something never attempted before: an exploration of deep space, using cutting edge technology to reach Saturn's orbit and collect a whole new lot of data about the Solar System and the universe in its entirety. Carol had always liked a challenge, and as far as challenges went, an Air Force pilot couldn't ask for much better. Also, Rhodey was making a name for himself as War Machine, and if she was honest with herself Carol was feeling a bit jealous, like he was leaving her in the dust. She accepted immediately. But Project Constellation went wrong almost immediately after launch. Carol's spaceship had gone off course right after exiting Earth's atmosphere. After fifteen minutes of frantic radio transmission, the NASA headquarters in Houston had lost all contacts. Carol was lost in space. Everybody thought she was dead for almost six years. Instead, to everyone's surprise, four months ago Carol had finally made it back to Earth. She had somehow gained superpowers - and they were really super powers: levitation, super strenght, speed and endurance superior to even those of an asgardian, and energy projection. She could be just as strong as Vision... maybe even more. She was brought up to speed on everything that had happened in the intervening time. When she learned about the whole Civil War fiasco, she decided to sign the Accords in a heartbeat. And then she left Earth again. Apparently she had made friends in space. Which should sound absurd, but in the last few years Rhodey's definition of absurd had changed pretty drastically. Carol had returned only a couple of weeks ago. And now, there she was, in Rhodey's office, asking if she could join the Avengers. The Accords Committee had already approved her, but it was Rhodey who had the last word about her joining the team or not, and he had a few reservations. He wanted to make sure their previous history wouldn't get in the way of them working together in the field... and especially of his relationship with Hope. Apparently, Carol had guessed his thoughts, because she leaned forward and spoke softly: "You don't seem very convinced..." she prodded. Rhodey shook his head: "Carol, don't take it personally, but... I don't know if we can be strictly professional with each other." "Rhodey... Colonel," she said resolutely, "I assure you, I don't mean to cause any problems to you. I know you've met another person," she assured him. "It's not just that, it's..." Rhodey sighed wearily, leaning back in his chair, "Carol, at the risk of sounding like an asshole... why are you only coming back now? I thought you were dead for six years. I mourned, I cried... and then one day, all of a sudden, you come back with superpowers and ask me to join the Avengers. You'll understand if I'm a bit overwhelmed," he said, slightly disappointed. Carol flinched ever so slightly: "You're right. I should have come back sooner. There's no excuse for that, and I'm sorry. But... We were over, Rhodey. I had no family and not many friends, I didn't think I would be missed much. Besides, I didn't get my powers and learn to control them in five minutes, and even after that... I couldn't just say 'Thank you, it's been fun' and come back home. It was complicated. Things had changed... I had changed. It's a long story." "Fair enough... Can I have a trimmed down version though? Just the essential parts," Rhodey wanted to know, smiling encouragingly. Carol's lips twitched upward: "Asgardians and Chitauri are not the only people out there, Rhodey. There are countless species on countless planets. The Kree Empire is one of the most powerful intergalactic communities in all the cosmos. They are the ones that saved me in space. Even my powers come from them." "So you're in cahoots with an intergalactic empire. You've become quite a big shot, haven't you?" Rhodey teased. Carol smiled: "Yeah. You didn't slouch either, though. Leader of Earth's mightiest heroes? That looks like a hell of a promotion..." "Sort of," Rhodey smiled back, "and I hear you would like to join them," he prodded. Carol's expression turned grim: "Yes, because we might have a problem," she said. "We, as in the Earth?" Rhodey wanted to know. "We, as in the entire universe," Carol replied. "Oh, that's not at all ominous..." Rhodey muttered. "I know, right? And I still haven't even told you that Asgard has been destroyed..." Carol continued. It sounded like a joke, but her face was carved in stone. Rhodey's eyes bulged slightly. Asgard!? Destroyed!? I thought Asgardians were as strong as they came! How was Asgard destroyed!? Carol seemed to have understood his question, because she started to explain: "It was a fire demon, his name is Surtur," she said, "The king of a planet called Muspelheim, a place covered in fire. He's a giant made of fire and molten lava, a thousand feet tall. A few millennia ago, he used to wreak havoc all across the galaxy, until Odin defeated him..." "Odin? Thor's father?" Rhodey interrupted. "Yes," Carol confirmed, "we don't know how, but a few months ago Surtur reappeared out of the blue and destroyed Asgard. Then he went on a rampage, destroying planet after planet, including two Kree outposts." Rhodey was still trying to wrap his head around it all:"So you think he's heading for Earth next?" he asked gravely. "Unfortunately, I think so... I don't know why, but he's following a course that should lead him here in about four months..." Carol said. Rhodey leaned back in his chair: "A demon made of fire... who destroyed Asgard. Holy shit." "Exactly. Holy shit," Carol concurred. "You think we can fight him?" Rhodey asked then. "I don't know," Carol answered with a weary sigh, "but one thing is for sure: you're gonna need all the help you can get. And despite everything that's happened in the last six years, Earth is still my home, and I'm gonna fight for it till my last breath. If it's gonna be alongside the Avengers or on my own, it's your decision to make, Rhodey." Rhodey nodded solemnly. If this guy had destroyed Asgard... they were gonna need all the help they could get. And judging by Carol's file, she was a heavy hitter - as heavy as they come. He couldn't afford to turn down an asset like her, not because of a relationship that had been over for years. Really, the decision was already made. "Report here to the Compound tomorrow at 0800 sharp, Lieutenant Colonel Danvers," he told her, "we'll get you settled and introduce you to the rest of your new team." *** Peter was as tense as a violin string as he waited in front of Luigi's Restaurant. He didn't think he could get any more agitated until a white Porsche 911 Carrera S pulled over into the parking slot closest to the door. Peter saw Friday get out of the car, and it was as if the whole world had stopped: she was gorgeous. She was wearing a black and red qipao, so elegant and gracious that Peter immediately felt underdressed. Her fiery red hair was tied in a French braid falling on her left shoulder, looking like lava trickling down the side of a volcano. Even in a long dress like that one, she exuded power, just like she did in her suit of armor. Peter was sweating as she approached him with a dazzling smile. Thank God at least this time I'm wearing baggy pants... "Hey, Friday... You look stunning," Peter said, proud of himself for having managed not to stutter or make a fool of himself (yet). "Thanks, Peter. You clean up very nice yourself," Friday smiled, reaching out and fixing the knot of his tie. Peter gulped audibly. "Right... well... Shall we?" he asked, jerkily offering her his arm. She giggled and took his elbow as they headed inside the restaurant. "So... Today's bad guys were not really supervillains, were they?" Peter asked, starting the conversation on a neutral topic, trying tokeep his raging nervousness in check and also trying not to pay attention to all the paparazzi that were crowding the place around them. Tomorrow at school was certainly going to be fun. "No, definitely not. They probably thought, having Quinjets, that they could get in, hack what they needed and get out before we could get there. They were obviously wrong," Friday retorted, "But they were good for you," she added as an afterthought. Peter perked up: "What do you mean?" "Well, they give you the chance to start small and slowly ease yourself into the Avengers business without throwing you into a battle for the fate of the world right from the start. I started small myself, Thaddeus Ross was not exactly a threat comperable to Loki or Ultron..." Friday explained. "Huh. I never thought about it that way,"Peter considered, before smiling and raising his glass of water: "To small and stupid villains then," he said. Friday smiled and clinked her glass against his. As they drank, both their phones vibrated, and Friday's expression turned sour as she looked at hers. "Sis, I really hate to interrupt, but we have a situation in Central Park," Jocasta's Scottish-accented voice resonated from Friday's phone, "I'm sending Stinger to you." "Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Friday protested out loud, "I took the evening off! I even turned off all my communication systems because I din't want to be disturbed!" "Fri, you know Spiday is my OTP," Jocasta replied, "do you really think I would ruin your first ever date if it wasn't important? You two are the closest to the site..." Friday sighed in defeat: "Alright, hit me. What's going on?" "An electromagnetic storm rising out of nowhere, compatible with an Einstein-Rosen bridge," Jocasta told her, "the energy signature is similar but not identical to that of the Asgardian Bifrost..." This sounded serious. Carol Danvers had come to the Avengers that morning, bearing bad news. She told them that Asgard had been destroyed and there was some sort of fire demon heading for Earth. Was he already here? "Friday... Did you get that?" Peter asked, showing her his phone. "Yeah, we have to go," she said, before looking down at her dress: "I can't put on the suit over this... damn. Suiting up in nothing but my underwear. That's gonna be a new experience," she muttered. Peter went red like a tomato. "Go ahead," Friday told him without paying any attention to his reaction, "I'll meet you there, I'm gonna go get changed. Jo, send my armour to the roof." *** Spiderman was already webbing ahead and half the way to Central Park when Lady Iron zoomed past him at low altitude. He reached their destination almost ten minutes after her. As he jumped down from a tree next to Friday, the clouds in the sky were starting to swirl in a circular pattern right above their heads. "Here we go..." Friday announced, mentally preparing for a fight. A few seconds later, a giant streak of light very similar to that caused by the Bifrost shot down from the sky and hit the ground. Peter had to cover his eyes with an arm until it diffused. As the dust settled, a black haired woman clad in a medieval looking armor appeared before them. She wielded a double-bladed sword, holding it like a cane and leaning heavily into it to keep herself upright. She looked pretty roughed up. "Do you think she's Asgardian?" Peter asked Friday, "She looks pretty Asgardian to me..." The woman seemed to notice them, but didn't move. She seemed to be badly wounded. "Hi," Peter said lamely, before clearing his voice, "Identify yourself," he then commanded, dropping his voice about an octave. "I am Lady Sif, of Asgard," the mysterious woman replied in a pained voice. "Greetings," Friday replied, "I'm Lady Iron, of Manhattan. State your intentions." "I come with a warning," Sif gritted out and tried to take a step forward, but dropped down on one knee, holding her midsection in pain. Both Friday and Peter rushed to help her lay down. "I was on Vanaheim, when the fire demon Surtur attacked... We fought bravely, but we never stood a chance... and then..." Sif started to recount in a barely audible voice. "Surtur?" Friday asked. As Spiderman turned to her with a questioning gaze, she explained: "Colonel Rhodes had a meeting today. After that, he called the Accords Committee to discuss a possible extraterrestrial threat. I heard the name Surtur..." she told him. "No," Sif said, grabbing her arm. She looked like she had just come face to face with Death: "Surtur has been slain..." she rasped. Friday and Peter looked at her with matching shocked expressions. Sif was struggling to speak: "I fought Surtur alongside the Vanir, but we were like mosquitoes to him... The battle was all but lost, but before he could destroy Vanaheim once and for all, a much more powerful being manifested himself... He wielded an Infinity Stone, and he was looking for revenge on Surtur for... for hurting the woman he loves... Surtur's power paled in comparison to his... he f-fell... like he... was n-nothing..." The two Avemgers exchanged worried looks. Friday then turned back to Sif: "Who? Who was it?" she asked. But Sif closed her eyes and lost consciousness. Peter looked at Friday, unsure of what to do. Friday was still looking at Sif's unconscious form. Then she looked up to Peter: "You know what we said about small and stupid villains?" she asked him. He just nodded in acknowledgement. Friday looked back down at Sif: "This isn't one of them." THE END Wanda was returning to her room. She was exhausted. Strange's training was very taxing, and it didn't look like it was getting her anywhere. What was the point when the whole world had forgotten her and wanted nothing to do with her anymore? However, right now she was too exhausted to start mulling over it. All she wanted was to go to bed. But apparently, she was not going to be able to. A bright streak of light burst in front of her all of a sudden. Startled, Wanda fell backwards. Then the light faded, and a giant green man was left in its wake. Wanda nearly had a heart attack: the Hulk was there! How did he get here!? How did he find me!? What does he want to do to me!? were her thoughts. Was he looking for vengeance too, after what she had done to him all those years ago!? The Hulk was on all fours and moving slowly and wearily towards her. "No, please! I'm sorry! Oh God, please, leave me alone!" Wanda begged, crawling backwards. It took her a few seconds to notice that the Hulk was slowly shrinking back into Bruce Banner. Strange and Wong arrived running when the trasformation was already nearly complete. In a couple more seconds, the beast was gone, and in its place was Doctor Banner. His eyes were wild with fear. "He's coming..." he said, pulling himself up on his knees, "Thanos is coming..." Notes: This is what the Iron Man armor Mark 49 'Ninja' looks like: . It's still not the Nanotech suit Tony has in the Infinity War movie, but it's made of Vibranium and supercharged with Extremis... :-). Also, I'm ignoring the fact that in the MCU apparently Carol Danvers got her powers in the 1990s. This 'verse will not be Captain Marvel-compliant. As for Surtur, his little cameo happened because the ending of Thor Ragnarok makes little to no sense to me: Ok, so Surtur has defeated Hela (although 'defeated' might be a strong word... more like he 'stopped' Hela). But now who's gonna defeat Surtur? Are we supposed to believe that he conveniently offed himself when he destroyed Asgard? Yeah, not buying that. So in this story, after destroying Asgard he went on a rampage and blew a few more planets... until Thanos got in his way. And yes, in the meantime Thor was blissfully ignorant about all of it, slowly heading for Earth in his spaceship with his fellow Asgardian refugees. But more of that in the sequel of this story. I hope you liked this chapter and this story, and that you'll stick with me for what comes next! Thank you for all the kudos, the comments and the lovely support! you people are awesome!