Chapter 2: Every Rose Has Its Thorn
Tony watched the sun dip behind the sherbert horizon with droopy eyes. He leaned against the window as the S.U.V. cruised through the back roads of Upstate New York. His mind fogged over with exhaustion and the hum of the engine was enough to lull him to sleep.
The problem was, he couldn't allow himself to sleep.
He might've gotten out of The RAFT, but the hurricane hasn't passed yet. It wasn't even close.
Tony cracked his neck and glanced at the other S.U.V driving in front of him, the one that held Clint, Scott, and Sam. Tony could bet they were talking about whether or not Tony was a filthy liar. It made his head swirl with a dull ache to think about.
Just how did he plan on breaking the news to Sam and the others? He more or less told them the truth, but at that time, his only concern was getting everyone out. Tony couldn't afford to let their pride ruin their one chance at freedom.
A small rustle perked Tony's ears. He glanced in the rearview mirror to find Vision propped up against his window with Wanda sleeping against his bicep.
Her cheek rested on his Vibranium shoulder, and her arms were wrapped around his elbow, cuddling him tightly to her side like a teddy bear. After the RAFT had given back her clothes, she looked the same as she did three weeks ago, all except for her neck.
Around her neck was a scarf of blood-stained gauze. It wrapped around from the bottom of her jaw to the base of her throat. Before they left the RAFT, Wanda had been checked out by a doctor. He said that she would be okay for the most part, but Tony seriously doubted it.
As Wanda slept, Vision smiled down at her. It was the first time Tony had ever seen him smile in anything beyond bemusement, but Tony had certainly seen Vision depressed.
Ever since Leipzig, Vision was always moping around the compound. He'd wander into Wanda's old room and just stand there in mournful silence.
It was odd to see him act that way. Vision was never the emotional type, but at this point, Tony wasn't sure if Vision still qualified as an android. Clearly, Tony should've been around more to monitor Vision's growth because this was not the Vision he had built a year ago. Maybe that rock in his head was affecting him more than Tony thought it would.
Tony didn't realize he had been staring at the two until Vision caught his gaze.
He cleared his throat and twisted in his seat, pulling his shades down from the bridge of his nose. "How's she doing?"
Vision looked between the sleeping teen and Tony. "She seems to be resting peacefully as of now, but once we return her to the compound, she can sleep properly."
Tony nodded as he turned back around. He glanced at the S.U.V. driving in front of him and sighed.
He really hoped that he was doing the right thing.
As they emerged from the acres of forest that peppered Upstate New York, the Avengers Compound came into sight. Outside of the pristine white building was a wall of people holding cameras and microphones and pushing against each other, fighting for a better view.
His head began to pound.
He knew the press would get on his ass at some point, but did they have to pick today?
As they pulled up to the front, reporters immediately swarmed the car. Cameras flashed, and reporters pressed their faces against the windows, craning to get a glimpse of the newly released Avengers.
Out of the rearview mirror, Tony watched Wanda, now fully awake, staring at the reporters with horrified wide eyes that glinted red.
Tony sucked in a breath and twisted in his chair, locking eyes with Vision. "Don't leave her side for a second," he said.
Vision looked at him with deadly seriousness and nodded, taking Wanda's hand. Tony took a deep breath, plastering on his best Billionaire Playboy face for the cameras, and opened the door, shoving it through all the reporters.
As soon as he did, people bombarded them with microphones and recorders. Sharply dressed reporters screamed questions in his ears that he had no desire to answer.
He tried his best to put them out of his mind.
Tony's eyes locked on the large steel doors ahead of him.
Twelve steps, that was all he needed. He waded through the reporters, giving curt and hollow pardons. He pushed past them, keeping his fake smile intact the entire time.
Eleven, ten, nine.
His fingers just grazed the steel handle of the door when the ground started to tremble, and his heart jumped in his throat.
Among the sea of roaring reporters was a pair of glimmering red eyes. Wanda's hands, which were clutched tightly to her chest, were engulfed with swirling red mist. As more cameras flashed in her face, the deeper red and more dangerous her powers became.
Tony's heart jumped in his throat. He was about to dive back into the ocean of people when Sam came up from behind to take her other arm. Clint was right behind him, pulling a shellshocked Scott along by the sleeve of his shirt.
They shoved people aside, no longer caring for tact. Tony swung the front door open, ushering them inside and slamming it shut behind him.
Tony leaned against the door, catching his breath. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn the sprinklers on, please."
"Sure thing, Boss," the disembodied Irish woman said.
A choir of screams erupted from outside as the sprinkler system hosed them down. A small smile crossed Tony's face as he peeked out the window to watch cameramen scatter like rats to cover their equipment. One smartly dressed woman tripped and fell into a mud puddle, and Tony couldn't help but snicker.
"Enjoying the show, Boss?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked.
"Yeah, good job," he smiled.
The other Avengers were quick to make themselves at home. Clint had plopped on the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. He groaned, nestling into the cushions, murmuring something along the lines of not having a comfy seat for the past three weeks.
Scott wandered around the living room with complete awe as he took in the compound. "With digs like this, you may wanna tighten security," he said absentmindedly, "I would know."
Tony did a double-take. "You've been here before?"
"Yeah, I had to steal some stuff," he said. Scott blinked. His brain caught up with his words, and his face burned. "But it was for a good cause, I promise!"
Sam laughed.
Vision had his hand resting on Wanda's back, comforting her while she caught her breath.
"Wanda," Vision said, "do you wish to retire early?"
Wanda was bent over, with her hand clapped on to her injured neck. She took audible deep breaths, clearly overwhelmed from all the press, but she shook her head.
"Y'know, kid," Clint said from the couch with a goofy smirk on his face, "you don't have to put up a brave face. Go to bed if you have to."
"No, I'd recommend that all of you stay for what I have to say," said a new voice.
Standing at the threshold of the living room was a man in a sharp black suit. He looked like a politician with his slicked-back red hair and square, black (45a) rimmed glasses. He held a briefcase in his hand and had a very unpleasant look on his face as if he had better things to do than be here.
Clint and Sam immediately stiffened, and Scott stared at him in confusion.
Not Tony. He only looked at the sharply dressed man in exasperation.
"Who is he supposed to be?" Clint asked Tony, getting to his feet.
"My name is Agent Henry Gyrich," the red-headed man said, "and I am your new government handler brought in by the United Nations."
"And where's Cap?" Sam asked, not even bothering to look at Agent Gyrich.
Tony's brain ran sprints through every excuse he could give. Everything from an unforeseen U.N. conference to picking up milk at the nearest Seven-Eleven.
He was about to open his mouth to say something, but Gyrich interrupted. "He's not here."
Sam whirled around. "What do you mean, Cap's not here?"
Gyrich just shrugged. "Through the entire process, the United Nations has not heard from Captain Rogers once."
Tony stared at Gyrich in utter shock. "I told you not to-"
"You lied to us?" Sam yelled.
"Would you have rather still been in RAFT?" Tony shot back, his voice edging on irritation.
Sam didn't bother to listen to him. Instead, he pushed past Tony for the door, ready to rip it off its hinges and storm out.
Gyrich cleared his throat. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, a wicked smirk crossing his face.
Sam turned on his heels. "Why not? The deal was that I would join if Cap was here."
"If you walk out, everyone in this room is going back to the RAFT."
His words echoed off the walls of the living room, and everyone froze in their places. All eyes were on Gyrich, each filled with horror.
Clint was the first one to say something. "Did you sign off on this?" he asked Tony. His voice was soft as if he were still trying to convince himself that it couldn't be true.
Tony's shoulders sagged. He had gone through long and grueling hours with politicians negotiating the plans to release everyone. While Tony didn't agree with everything they wanted to put in the New Accords, he won the better of the deal for the Avengers, and he couldn't risk that. He couldn't risk them all being locked away again, this time with no hope of a third chance.
"I couldn't win everything, Barton," Tony said, his eyes drifting sideways.
Sam wasn't remotely satisfied with Tony's answer. "How many lies did you tell us this morning? Exactly what did you drag us into?"
Tony didn't answer.
"You can burn Mr. Stark at the stake later," Gyrich said, "but in the meantime, we ought to get on with this little meeting. I don't intend to stay all night."
Without saying another word, Gyrich turned on his heels and began briskly walking towards the boardroom.
Clint and Sam glowered at Tony before following him. Scott followed behind with a blank expression, and Vision led Wanda by the arm, taking slow steps as they went.
The boardroom was pretty simple. It was a glass-walled room with a long table and monitor. Before the schism, the Avengers never really used this room since they did briefings in the Quinjet, but because of the Accords, Tony found himself spending a lot of time here. Tony felt right at home as he settled in the very back of the room.
He leaned back in his chair, kicking up his feet on the lacquered wood.
Once everyone took their seats, Gyrich stood with his arms crossed. "As per the new amendments to the Sokovia Accords, the United Nations has appointed me to monitor you and approve whether or not you'll be able to operate once again as Avengers."
Scott raised his hand. "Yeah, what if I don't want to be an Avenger? I thought I would get to go home."
Gyrich grinned. "Oh no, all of you are required to stay here for the next year, and-"
"Year?" Clint repeated, his voice edging on rage. He turned to Tony and wrung his hands, "you said we could go home!"
"If not for this plan, Barton, you wouldn't be going home at all," Tony said.
Clint looked ready to throw himself across the table at Tony if not for Wanda, who sat next to Clint with her knees drawn to her chest, hadn't weakly grabbed the hem of his shirt. She silently pleaded with him to sit back down.
Clint screwed his eyes shut, jaw clenched, and hands trembled in fists. He slowly sat back in his seat and gripped the arm of his chair.
Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Can we at least have visitors?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Gyrich said, "everyone is allowed visitors, so long as they are either immediate family or cleared by me."
Scott just nodded.
"During your parole, I will be performing multiple assessments. You'll be graded on things like teamwork, efficiency, and, most importantly, damage control," Gyrich said, "if the Avengers are going to operate, then they are going to operate with minimal casualties and property damages."
"What if we just happen to fail?" Sam said under his breath.
Gyrich's eyes narrowed on Sam, "if you consistently fail your assessments, then your parole time will be extended. So, if you would like to continue your stay with us, then by all means fail, but we will certainly not make your extended stay fun."
Sam didn't have a reply. He just leaned his cheek against his hand.
"If I may go on," Gyrich continued.
Tony had to admit that he wasn't listening. He didn't have to, since he's not only heard this speech before, but he was directly responsible for 80% of it. A wave of exhaustion swept over him, and Tony began to nod off until a sharp pang hit his temple.
He winced, rubbing his forehead. It was like a mist had crawled through his ears and was pushing against his skull. The strange part was that something about this felt familiar.
Tony couldn't place it until he noticed a red glint in Wanda's eyes. He realized that he had felt this sensation a year ago in Sokovia when the little witch went digging around in his head for HYDRA.
"Do you mind?" he scorned.
All eyes were suddenly on Tony, except for Wanda's, whose glowing irises were glued to the table as they faded back to green.
Gyrich arched an eyebrow but didn't press Tony as he opened his briefcase and pulled out several beige folders. "On top of assessments, each Avenger will be given tasks to fulfill to get their license."
He walked around the table, handing everyone each a folder with their name on the front. Even Tony received one.
He opened it to read:
ANTHONY EDWARD STARK, Representative of the Avengers Organization, by order of the UNITED NATIONS, must
-Obtain Avengers International Identification Card.
-Attend Alcoholics Anonymous weekly and remain sober indefinitely.
-Write monthly reports to the United States Embassy about all missions, assignments, and individuals of the Avengers.
- Apply for and receive a piloting license to operate the Iron Man suit.
"I have to apply for a piloting license to use the Falcon suit?" Sam gasped.
Well, at least Tony wasn't alone.
"I flew that thing for three years in Afghan. I know what I'm doing!" he went on.
"The Falcon Suit was a military experiment. It's completely different now that you're domestic again," Gyrich explained.
Sam fumed.
When Gyrich came to Wanda and Vision, he flopped the folder on the table instead of handing it to them. The pair's folders were sizably thicker than everyone else's, and as Wanda went to open hers, Clint quickly snatched it away.
Wanda feebly grasped for it, but Clint held it far out of her reach as he quickly skimmed it.
His face went red. "U.S. Citizenship? High School Diploma? Morality Test?" he read. "What kind of person do you think Wanda is?"
"An illegal immigrant who has no recorded education as well as an outstanding criminal record," Gyrich said nonchalantly.
Clint's eye twitched. "Don't just go picking on Wanda-"
"We all have to take them," Tony interrupted with a deadpan expression.
Tony slid his To-Do List across the table towards Clint, pointing at the very last command. Lo and behold, it said, "Take a Morality and Ethics Test."
"Why do we all have to take Morality Tests?" Sam asked.
"All people who have jobs that enforce the law are required to take tests like this," Gyrich said. He narrowed his eyes at Sam. "You people may think you're gods, but you're not. So you will take these tests."
Sam glared back at Gyrich but kept any sharp remark he might've been tempted to say to himself.
Gyrich reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small plastic card. It said Avengers ID on it and had the Avengers Logo on the corner.
"If you complete everything on your list, you will be given these cards," he explained, "they will give you jurisdiction in almost all parts of the world for you to carry out missions. Ideally, you'll get them by this time next year. However, if you fail your final assessments, then you will stay until your next assessment in the following year."
Tony stifled a yawn with his hand and cleared his throat. "Is that it?" he asked Gyrich.
Gyrich closed his briefcase and rolled his eyes. "I suppose. I will be back tomorrow morning at 8:00 to perform your first assessment. Don't be late."
"Fantastic," Tony said nonchalantly, hauling himself to his feet. He strode out of the room, clapping a hand on Gyrich's shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Archie. Great speech."
Before Gyrich had a chance to respond, Tony turned down the hall, ready to crash into a 72-hour coma.
Tony must've visited the compound a handful of times in recent years, but he hadn't been in the residential area since the day he had the place refurbished. It wasn't like he had a reason to come. He was just fine living with Pepper in Manhattan, though Gyrich had other ideas. So not only was it Orientation Day, but it was also Move-In Day!
Yay him.
Not even M.I.T was this bad.
The residential area was a set-aside floor with long hallways of empty bedrooms. Well, all but one were empty. Every other Avenger had other living arrangements planned.
Had.
Tony settled on the room in the very back of the floor, farthest away from anyone else. Inside was a cold and bland white room. The massive windows on the farthest wall were darkened with the night sky, leaving only the harsh lighting and the white walls to sting Tony's tired eyes.
He took a seat on the stiff, white sheeted bed and sighed.
None of this was going to work. Especially not the mattress that was as flat and lifeless as Mark Wahlberg in The Happening. Honestly, whoever was in charge of furnishing should be dropped in the middle of Afghanistan.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y?" Tony said to the ceiling, "call Ms. Potts for me."
"Calling Pepper Potts."
The line didn't even have time to ring before Pepper's voice came through the speakers. "Tony, it's midnight," she said in an exasperated and irritated tone. She was most likely already in bed.
"Yeah, I know, but this is important," he said.
"Don't you have the Accords to finalize or something?"
"Way ahead of you, Snuggly Boo Bear. I just need you to make a delivery for me."
There was a long moment of silence. "What do you want me to bring?" Pepper sighed.
"All of it."