2

'Let's move,' Tony tells JARVIS as soon as he's down in the workshop. 'Dummy, coffee. Lots of coffee, please, you can take this giant mug someone got me for some occasion some years ago, go on, you know which one. JARVIS, does this mean there hasn't been any incident within the time I was gone? Just those few sightings?'

'Yes. Also, according to some sources I was able to access, European leaders are going to meet in Brussels within twelve hours.'

'Risky,' Tony murmurs, taking off his jacket and throwing it on a chair. Butterfingers rolls towards him a moment later, bringing him a change of working clothes; not like Tony would care about getting his suit dirty, but Pepper would be mad about the dry cleaning again.

'Less risky than trying to set up a teleconference or relying on any other virtual means of communication.'

Right. No one really knows if the Emperor can break through any kind of security – he hasn't exactly hacked any database as far as anyone knows – but it's only a logical assumption, given his obvious technical supremacy.

'You're right there, J,' Tony agrees, his voice muffled by the t-shirt he's just putting over his head. 'Pretty sure they won't risk any kind of electronics not to give Emperor heads up, just in case, if they have any sense of self-preservation… Anyone we know will be there to get some data?'

'The Commissioner, sir.'

'Perfect,' he smiles to himself. One good information at least; the Commissioner is Tony's old friend, as far as business goes, from the times when Tony travelled through Europe after graduating MIT. They've kept in touch all these years – mutual benefits, of course; the man is a very sharp and intelligent person, too, who enjoys a good conversation sometimes and Tony is good at those, even if not many people know. Most people would probably say he doesn't have time for conversations and he's totally fine with that assumption. Most people aren't worth even a minute.

'Shall I turn off the news feed now?'

'Do that. Keep me informed in case something radical happened, but I need to focus – give me the specs for the energy detector, the second set, it should work on those weapons as far as I can tell, we just need a few tweaks –'

'May I suggest something, sir?' JARVIS cuts in, making Tony raise an eyebrow and look up at the A.I.'s nearest camera.

'Yes?'

'Would you mind finishing the codes you were working on before, for separate control systems for the suits?'

'We talked about that, right, J?' Tony asks, trying not to shiver visibly, although this is giving him a bad feeling.

'Just in case, sir,' JARVIS replies in a voice much quieter than usual. Shier, maybe. 'For your own safety.'

'… if you want me to,' Tony replies after a long pause. It's not like JARVIS can feel, it's not like he can have emotions, but at the moment Tony has this impression that JARVIS is scared. Though it's stereotyping: the A.I. is just considering all possible options and using mathematical methods to analyze all the data. 'It shouldn't take that long,' Tony adds and sits down in front of the main screen. 'Show it.'

JARVIS does display the code and it takes Tony a minute to look over last lines and pick up working. Music starts playing without prompting and Tony nods his head to the rhythm unconsciously as he works.

'JARVIS, time?' he asks for what feels like hundredth time.

'7:14 a.m., sir. May I suggest you rest?'

'You may,' Tony smirks and goes back to work. Dummy brings him a fresh cup of coffee and a Danish – how is there something like that in workshop Tony doesn't know – and nudges Tony's arm until he eats it. 'Thanks, little one,' Tony says, patting Dummy's arm and then sends him away. 'Daddy needs to work.'

'Sir, you have been in the workshop for consecutive twenty-five hours and you have completed nine different projects during that time, if you lost count. Perhaps a rest is in place?'

'J, I just need to do this this one thing –'

'You are saying this for the third time.'

'You know I must,' Tony counters, biting his lip and erasing one line on the blueprint that's messing up his design.

'… of course, sir,' JARVIS agrees. Tony swears the A.I. would sight if he could.

'Miss Potts asked me to remind you of a board meeting tomorrow at 10 a.m. sharp.' JARVIS tells Tony a few minutes later. Tony groans and rubs his eyes. '10 p.m. sir.,' he says before Tony can ask about the time. 'Captain Rogers has expressed his worry about your physical state.'

'Tell him to stop being a mother hen – and run this simulation for me, chop chop, we don't have time for useless talks.'

JARVIS does as he is told – at least runs the simulation, the results are satisfying, so Tony saves the file and makes sure he'll have it tomorrow with himself to show to R&D and build an actual prototype. He can only wonder if JARVIS did forward his comment to Steve. Very unlikely, JARVIS and Cap like to bond over politeness and manners that Tony can't bring himself to care about.

Tony goes to sleep at midnight, finally, and sleeps uninterrupted until 6 a.m.

'You're getting mushy,' he murmurs to himself as he peels the cover off his skin and, instead of getting cleaned up, puts on some workout clothes and heads for the gym. There's absolutely no surprise in seeing Steve there, methodically destroying a punching bag.

'Bad dreams, Cap?' Tony asks, taking a few sips of his sports drink and starting to warm up. Steve doesn't even turns his head.

'You had two years to find out that I tend to get up early,' he replies with a resigned sigh. Tony nods in agreement, it took him full five days to find out that it's the thing that Captain Steve Rogers does. 'Do you want to spar?'

'Nah, I thought I could do some strength training today, you know, not all people's muscles just happen to appear by themselves,' Tony jokes, walking up to a bench press.

'So you keep telling me,' Steve replies, between heavy breathes – Tony can hear the smirk in his voice – and the punching bag is down a second later.

They spend almost two hours in complete silence, interrupted only by occasional deeper breath or a squeak of some of the equipment. At 8 sharp JARVIS informs Tony of the time and Tony gets off the treadmill.

'It was a pleasure,' he tells Steve before leaving the room, but he manages to see Cap smiling at him; Tony has learned a long time ago that it's one of Steve's ideas of quality time, getting sweaty in the gym together. Almost as good as communal breakfasts.

A shower and a smoothie later Tony is finishing buttoning his shirt when his phone rings; the screen says that the caller is General Reuben. Tony frowns, trying to remember what exactly has he done this time, but then he realizes it's about the two project propositions he sent to DOD sometime in the middle of the night.

'We'll take them both, Mister Stark. As soon as you can. I'll see you tonight – I believe you and the rest of your team will be present at the War Division meeting?'

'We will,' Tony confirms, putting on a tie and adjusting it. Now, a pair of sunglasses and he's ready to go.

'Until later, then,' the man says and hangs up. That's the kind of phone calls Tony likes: very short – therefore relatively safe. Clever.

'Pepper waiting for me?'

'Downstairs, sir.' JARVIS answers promptly and opens the elevator doors.

It doesn't take long to get to Pepper's office – it's in the same building, in the end, even if a few dozen levels below the penthouse and then at the end of a maze of corridors that separates it from Tony's personal elevator. He shows her the few projects he managed to complete and she approves with a small smile. She might be a ruthless CEO and a sharp woman, but she's a sweetheart inside, Tony knows, and she is visibly relieved that he's coming up with ideas that should really make people safer, even if it's something as simple as a Starkphone app that provides the phone with a free-of-charge connection with a special emergency number after pressing the on/off button for five seconds.

'It provides the receiver with navigation coordinates of the caller's position straight away,' Tony tells the board members a few minutes later and they hum in contemplative agreement. Tony thinks. 'As for the army, there is the energy tracker we've started working on a few months ago – I had another look at it an calibrated it as well as possible based on all data we have on the Emperor's people's weapons…' Tony talks and talks and talks until everyone seems at least half satisfied, even though he's perfectly sure they'll at least ask him about weapons before the meeting is finished – and they do. Or they try to.

'Are you sure you won't reconsider –' Santos starts, but Tony cuts in before the man can get to the obvious point.

'I am sure. And I think we're finished here,' he says and disappears from the room, Pepper's heels clicking behind him. 'Don't tell me I could have been less rude –'

'You did good,' she interrupts, catching up with him. 'Did you sleep?' she asks, actually sounding surprised.

'We have meeting with War Division tonight and I have no idea what'll be going on there, so I thought it would be nice to actually register what is going on around me.'

Pepper laughs, a bit nervously, and shakes something off Tony's sleeve. She knows well enough that Tony after more than two days without sleep is working on automatic mode, which means all he can talk and think about is what his brain is always occupied with – his work. Everything else seems to go over his head, at least unless lots of alcohol is involved, but Tony and lots of alcohol have kind of a love-hate relationship right now.

'Eat lunch with me?' Tony asks when they get back to Pepper's office, glancing at his clock; it reads 12:02.

'I have a meeting,' Pepper replies apologetically and pack her suitcase, walking around Tony quickly and efficiently, and two minutes later she is ready to leave. Tony just stands in the middle of the room and watches her, amused. 'I'm sure your teammates would be happy to see your face again,' she adds and pushes him towards the door. 'I'll be back by two,' she tells her secretary and walks out after Tony.

He kisses her on the forehead.

'Keep safe, Miss Potts.'

'As always, Mister Stark,' she nods and disappears inside the elevator. Tony sighs and makes his way back to his personal space, but after a moment of hesitation presses the penthouse button instead of the workshop one.

'J, who's in for lunch?'

'Everyone but Mister Thor. He is back in New Mexico,' JARVIS explains before Tony can ask the question.

'How likely that it's gonna turn into an interrogation?'

'I'd advise you to keep eating and claiming you can't speak,' JARVIS offers drily, making Tony snicker. The team is a sweet thing, surely, but sometimes they can be a bit… overbearing. As if they didn't realize that somehow Tony has managed to keep himself alive and fed and happy most of his life, and even CEO-ed his business efficiently. They just like treating him like a child, it seems, and it's kind of fun. Most of the time.

'So, how was the meeting?' Tony hears as soon as he enters the penthouse; everyone is sitting by the dining table that has been turned into a kind of salad bar.

'Fruitful,' he replies and ruffles Clint's hair as he passes. The archer scowls, but Tony ignores him skillfully. 'Just as I was hoping for. Managed to run away before guys could start nagging me about producing weapons,' he adds, smiling at Bruce who totally gets it and returns the smile.

Tony serves himself, putting a bit of each salad on his plate, then draws his legs up to his chest and places the plate on his knees. Steve is glaring – only a bit, but still glaring – and Tony sighs internally. Cap just can't get used to some of Tony's strange habits.

'By the way, General Reuben will be present at the War Division assemble thingy,' Tony tells them when he's finished eating.

'The one who –'

'Is the army's tech man now? Yup, him,' Tony confirms, standing up. 12:48. Late. 'I'll meet you in here at… half past five?'

'That should be sufficient,' Phil nods approvingly. He looks pretty human now, much less zombie-like, but he's still tense and stressed out. Of course Tony would never say that aloud because Phil would deny it, but after a certain time you just learn to recognize the signs.

Fury hasn't contacted anyone in the meantime, JARVIS would report any call to Tony, and it's obviously putting the agents off a bit.

'Just don't be late!' Steve's voice follows Tony as he steps into the elevator, but he doesn't get to answer because JARVIS shuts the doors.

'J, make sure I'm not late,' Tony murmurs when he's in the workshop, eyes already reading through he summaries JARVIS has waiting for him on the screens. He doesn't really hear the reply.

'Congratulations,' Clint says with a hint of dry amusement when Tony finally gets to the penthouse, at 5:30 sharp, wearing one of his favorite grey suits, simple but elegant and expensive-looking, which seems to impress most people. Pretty pathetic, but Tony is willing to play the game.

He just rolls his eyes and looks around, noticing that Natasha isn't there.

'Nat is downstairs already,' Phil offers and buttons his jacket. 'Shall we?'

They meet Natasha downstairs, talking with two of Tony's bodyguards. Pepper insisted; the six men are normally with her, but she said she would prefer if he agreed to some additional security. Tony didn't feel like arguing, and now Natasha apparently decided it was her duty to fill them in.

'We're taking the limo,' she states and Tony tries not to roll his eyes as he hands her the keys. Of course they would be taking the limo, it's the only car that can all of them can fit in.

It's not a long drive and before they can start bickering in the back – that usually happens when Tony and Clint or Tony and Steve are in a small space, not to mention all of them – the car drives into an underground garage.

Fury is waiting for them, talking to someone through the comm but stops at soon as they step out of the limo.

'Follow me,' he orders and they do just that, walking a few steps behind the man through the long and completely empty corridors, their steps echoing loudly.

Finally they get to a room three levels higher, after passing by a security checkpoint, and go inside. A noise of many voices at once seems deafening, but just like yesterday, when Tony was meeting the President, the place gets eerily silent when people notice the Avengers – and half of them leaves immediately.

'Sit,' Fury barks and disappears behind a big decorated door, out of place between the newly painted snow white walls and simple wooden floor. They obey again, choosing to sit arm in arm on one side of the big oval table, so that whoever they will be talking to will be opposite of the whole team. A matter of integrity.

A few more people leave within the next two minutes, Fury comes back with a general whose name Tony can't remember, and soon everyone is seated.

Five Avengers plus Phil vs Fury, General Reuben, two other generals and the Richard from President's entourage. The files JARVIS has on the man suggest he's only a secretary to one of Presidents advisors, but obviously that's just a cover. There's always one of those around, Tony knows, the people who seem to be no one but in fact know everything.

'Major General Millard,' Richard introduces the higher man in glasses and with a pretty ridiculous moustache, 'and Lieutenant General McKee,' the other, shorter and thinner man nods solemnly. 'My name is Richard Straker.'

No telling his rank or position. Interesting.

'Of course we know Director Fury,' Tony says, glancing at the dark-skinned man with a straight face. Fury seems unhappy for some reason, but then he usually seems unhappy, so Tony isn't sure he should make something of that.

'Of course you do,' Richard says – Straker, though Tony doesn't think he can start think about the man with his surname now, Richard suits the man's brown neat hair, perfectly common blue eyes and narrow jaw much better – and opens a file he's just pulled out of his briefcase. 'I assume you'd like to know more about War Division. Major General Millard can fill you in,' he smiles at the older man.

'As you know, we disbanded S.H.I.E.L.D.,' the general starts, pauses to cough up, and speaks up again. 'It seems that in current situation we cannot spend funds on an agency targeting a different kind of danger – the kind that S.H.I.E.L.D. usually takes care of secretly. Aliens, magic, that kind of thing –'

'Isn't the Emperor a time-traveller?' Clint murmurs quietly, but the general hears it and makes frowns.

'He is, Mister Barton, but we have no interest in focusing on the time-travel itself. What is important to us right now is finding a way to defeat this man and not ask him how he came here, since he already is here. It might not be obvious to everyone, yet, but the man wants to wipe out a big chunk of America's greatest assets. And he potentially, as far as we know, has the means to do it. What we have seen so far, the bombings and the shootings, it was just power play, showing us that he can do whatever he wants. His games with electronics are just another piece of the puzzle – since our world relies so much on it. As far as we know now, he is superior in this matter, and he is several steps ahead.'

'The quiet time we have now is just the calm before the storm,' the other general says. Tony sighs.

'I know this might be boring you, Mister Stark, but I am just trying to make sure you understand the gravity of the situation. We need to catch up with the Emperor. We need to learn to identify his people –'

'Mister Stark has something to show use regarding that matter, I believe,' Reuben cuts in and Tony nods. 'When we finish. Please go on.'

Millard coughs again before continuing.

'And then we need to capture some of those people and interrogate them. There are always individuals who are willing to compromise… To do that, we want you. But first – War Division. You will be a part of War Division, which we created as an intelligence and quick response group, given that your people,' the man turns towards Fury and inclines his head a bit, 'are well-trained and familiar with this line of work. Difficult situations that a usual soldier or policeman wouldn't know how to deal with.'

'Why change the name then?' Clint wonders aloud, squeezing Phil's hand under the table. Phil keeps his face impassive, but Tony smirks slightly.

'It's much more than name change. We change structure, the field of work, but first of all, I will be the one keeping War Division in check, not Director Fury. He might act as your advisor sometimes – but only that. This situation calls for different tactics and cooperation with other armed units and I know best how to coordinate the moves. Also, S.H.I.E.L.D. has a lot of divisions that are unnecessary right now. We can make use of the former tech people, as soon as we know more about the Emperor's weapons, it'll be their job to take care of the guns, but the rest of the agents will be more useful in field than behind computer screens. I have my own people to do the online research, the best in the country.'

'So you want your people to be safe – and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in the potential line of fire because they're likely to stay alive until you debrief them and get all the intel you need. Sweet,' Tony comments, leaning back in the chair. Really. Sweet. Tony is fine with endangering himself, and his teammates are exceptional, but most of the agents are just skilled people – not skilled enough to fight with aliens or people from the future.

Of course they get no say in this.

'You are exaggerating,' McKee declares, leaning over the table, his eyes narrowed. An angry man, Tony notes.

'Whatever,' Tony shakes his head and looks back at Millard.

'There have been… sightings. Of who we believe are Emperor's people. You will be investigating and pursuing. Each of you will lead a team –'

'No, sir,' Steve cuts in, throwing Tony a short keep silent look. 'I am afraid that won't happen.'

'Pardon, Captain?'

'I don't believe each of us will lead a team. I'm sorry.'

'How so?' McKee snarls, leaning over the table again, his shoulders tense.

'We are a team, sir. We don't do solo missions. None of us has doneany since the team was formed,' Steve explains politely, but his face is determined and cold. Tony smirks internally; of course Steve would keep his word. Of course.

'Then you will have to learn to act separately, sport,' McKee says, stressing the last word. Steve smiles at prettily, showing his perfectly white teeth.

'I think you misunderstood, sir – we are a team, whether you want it or not. If you don't want us as a team, we will fight as a team outside of your division. It's simple.'

'I thought you were the rational man, Captain, and Stark was the stubborn fool –'

'I can assure you, Lieutenant General, and you should be aware of that yourself, that a team that already knows how to fight together is worth more than four new teams of strangers – uhm, you didn't plan on talking Thor into leading Midgardian people, I hope. He would take offense – and Hulk, he isn't very communicative whereas he's very… picky, when it comes to people. Might be dangerous.'

'… of course not,' Millard says, but he doesn't sound so sure anymore. Cap – generals, 1 – 0.

'I would like to know what do you expect of us, as a team, under your command, sir,' Steve adds in the same polite tone. That's how he wins all the fights with people who don't know his tactics.

'For now, we need to find the Emperor's people. If you would,' Millard spits and chuckles up again; this is getting slightly annoying. 'I will give you all the details that my people find for me and you will do as I say, that way we can assure the success of the missions.'

'Sooo, you'd like us to be like good little soldiers,' Tony says, smiling widely. It's his best business fake smile. 'We're not good at that. I don't do the soldier act, I keep telling that to Captain –'

'You also didn't so team player until you did,' Steve argues, but Phil interrupts before they can say anything more, his quiet voice filling the room with an unexpected force.

'We find a compromise. Between ourselves,' he stresses the last word, making sure they know he means back in the tower. Tony and Steve both nod curtly, and then Tony gives Steve a look he knows Steve will know how to read.

'We will listen to your command, Major General,' Steve says, making the decision in Tony's place. 'Although, you must be aware that if a situation arises when we believe a decision different than your order is the best thing to do, we'll do as we believe. But we'll refrain ourselves from that unless it's a very unique situation. All right?'

A quick murmur of yes and sure follows.

'I'll take that for now, son, but you and me, we will have words,' Millard states. Richard writes something in his file and closes it.

'Well, Director Fury and Lieutenant General will leave now – I believe the meeting for other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents is to start in fifteen minutes and they will be needed there. And you, Mister Stark, might proceed with presenting us the two toys you promised General Reuben.

'With pleasure,' Tony says, getting up from the chair, and turns on a holo-screen that springs to life over a project he took out of his briefcase.

This presentation goes much quicker than the one at SI – there are considerably less things to say and less people to ask questions – and Tony is done in ten minutes. Reuben hums approvingly most of the time, almost making Tony snap and tell the man to keep silent, but fortunately he's had enough sleep to control himself and somehow ignore the annoying sound. Richard, of course, shows no emotion at all, but Tony wouldn't expect him to.

'That is satisfying,' Reuben states when Tony turns the screen off. 'I want twenty prototypes of both, as soon as possible. We need to do our tests, but prepare to produce much more, Mister Stark.'

'Oh, I will,' Tony replies, putting the projector into his case, but not sitting down. 'I believe we are done here?'

'Oh, yes,' Richard agrees, standing up, and everyone follows. Phil and Clint are not holding hands anymore, Tony notices. It would be fun to see the men's faces, but well, fun is not that important. 'Of course you will be waiting for Major General's commands.'

'Of course.'

'I might contact you in the future, Mister Stark, if the President will require anything of you.'

'You do that,' Tony says, mock-salutes the man and walks out of the room.

'Wait –' he hears from the inside, but doesn't bother to stop, and neither does anyone else.

'I can find my way back, I'm a genius,' Tony says loudly, his voice echoing in the corridor as he walks on.

'Sometimes it's hard to believe,' Tony hears Bruce murmur behind his back and smirks. He certainly makes it difficult at times, but a smokescreen is a great diversion tactic. Play fool and people won't expect much more of you.

Back in the tower, before Tony can disappear in the workshop, he's dragged to the kitchen by hand. Of course it's Clint, it's always Clint. And of course it's about team dinner, it always is.

'Please, Tony. Stay for half an hour. We all know that if you go back to your lair we won't see you for days.'

Tony hums in agreement – very true, especially now when he has more than normally on his head, all Stark International factories need special protocols in case the situation got worse, in case something radical happened. Something will happen at some point and Tony has to be prepared. So, new security protocols, making sure the production will proceed without problems for now, halting manufacturing some less important products and instead starting on the new ones – meeting with R&D, he'll need to actually get out of the workshop for that…

And being on a standby, waiting for the old man's commands.

Maybe he can spare this half an hour for dinner now.

Millard's men are pretty good, it turns out – or they've been on this for some time now – and it takes them only two days to get enough data to send the team on a mission.

Tony's in the middle of a project when the general calls. He came back from R&D meeting a few hours earlier, managed to catch maybe three hours of sleep, and is drinking his second cup of coffee while typing something with his other hand when JARVIS kills the music; Tony knows straight away what it means.

'Save the files. Get the bots secure this –' he gestures at the half-ready installation on the workbench. 'And get the suit ready,' he adds. 'I'll be up in a sec.'

He goes to the bathroom, washes his face with cold water and puts on an undersuit for the armor that he stared using a few months ago. Before leaving the workshop, he drinks the remains of the coffee in one gulp and a moment later he's up on the Quinjet level. The suit's waiting for him there, as well as the rest of the team – oh. Even Thor is present. Tony didn't realize the god was back from New Mexico; JARVIS must have told him, but well, Tony gets distracted a lot.

'We're going to?...'

'Providence,' Bruce supplies, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He's wearing the pants expandable to Hulk-size, finally a pair that seems to work, Tony notices happily. There's been no chance yet to test them in field, but Tony is sure they'll do all right – and it's not like Hulk would mind if they don't. Really.

'Providence,' Tony sighs as the suit wraps around him, faceplate up. 'Why is it always Providence?'

Clint looks at him questioningly – of course, there was no team mission there, but Tony has a few wild memories from his MIT times and the town just has a bad associations in his head. Coincidences.

'Let's go, guys,' Clint hurries them into the jet and sits behind the controls. 'Ready?'

There's a collective affirmative noise behind and Clint starts the engine.

'General will be on comms or something?' Tony asks Steve as they fly out of New York, as the thought suddenly occurs to him.

'Yes, Tony,' Steve says patiently. 'For emergencies only. In case someone hacked our frequency,' he adds and handles Tony a physical printed copy of the mission briefing. Wow. That's so Steve.

'Sure,' he murmurs, turning his attention to the file. O-kay. Someone has been shot, someone else recognized the kind of weapon used and the man who did it and reported him to the police – that was a week ago? – and from there the army observed the area closely and it seems like a few of Emperor's goons have taken residence in an old flat in one of the buildings on the outskirts of the city. The goal is simple: go there, get the men, get the guns, don't get killed, don't get anyone else killed.

The only tough part is that no one really knows what the gun do, how they work, but that's the reason the Avengers are there in the first place, right?

And this is exactly how it goes: Clint lands the Quinjet out of the city, there are cars waiting for them – civilian cars, of course – and they get to the indicated address pretty quickly. Tony listens to Clint pointing out where military snipers are hidden, in case the men tried to run away, while Phil drives. Since they don't want to talk over the comm more than absolutely necessary, Phil is mostly mental support. He's obviously not happy with that, but he's more mature than to complain.

'I'll stay here,' he tells the rest of the team when he stops a few block away from the bad guys' flat. 'Be safe,' he adds when they get out of the car; Thor, Bruce and Natasha get out of the other one.

Then it goes like this: they approach the apartment from different directions, securing all possible escape routes, Natasha gets inside through the main door – an option as good as any – and three minutes and a few blue shots later they have four men down. No one's hurt, no Avengers at least, Tony can't guarantee the bad guys' bones integrity. Fortunately, the guns' shots haven't hurt anyone, although there are a few ugly marks on the walls, looking like deep burns. Interesting.

There are seven of those guns in the flat – and no other tech or anything that could suggest that Emperor's people had a liar there. So it seems like it's just a temporary living arrangement.

Millard's soldiers some in two minutes later and take the men into the custody – and put six of the guns into special cases. Steve doesn't even blink when Tony hides one of them into his own secure pocket on the suit; he would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to do his own research on the tech. A gun from the future. He would be an idiot not to.

'Good job,' Millard says over the comm when he gets a signal from one of his men that the mission was successful. His voice is cold and he doesn't sound to happy, but it's probably just his usual demeanor. 'I'll meet you for debrief in four hours. Usual place.'

'Yes, sir,' Steve acknowledges the information and leads the team out of the flat, now swarming with policemen and soldiers. 'Are we free to go?' he asks the same man who called Millard.

'Yes,' the man says distractedly, not looking away from a file in his hands, so they leave the building and get back to the cars. Phil is waiting, leaning against one of them and browsing something on his Starkphone, but he pockets it as soon as he sees them.

'I heard shots.'

'The walls got hurt,' Tony snickers and Phil narrows his eyes dangerously, so Tony doesn't say anything more, just gets into the car.

The trip back is uneventful. JARVIS informs Tony that there have been two more shootings within last two hours, in Manila and Oslo, attack on citizens, it seems, not any officials.

Coincidences, Tony thinks, a cold feeling setting down in his gut. There are no coincidences.

Either the future man is sloppy and chooses idiots for his soldiers – not very likely – or it was all just too easy. Suspiciously easy.

There's no time for rest back in the tower, the Team has an hour before they're supposed to meet with Millard, so everyone gets cleaned up, changes clothes and grabs a sandwich, and then they have to leave again.

Millard doesn't seem to think it was all suspiciously easy, something the team agreed on during a conversation in the limo. He says his men are just very good. Well, possible, just not very likely.

Although, truth to be told, Tony isn't sure the general is being serious. For all they know he might be bluffing. Tony wouldn't trust the man with anything, really, it seems as if there is a greater game behind the scenes that they are not supposed to know about.

The debrief is quick, one positive thing, and the whole team is finally free to rest – or go back to work, in Tony's case. Bruce is working, too, helping him with some algorithms and research, while the others are refining the skills their lives depend on. Tony thinks he might join the training in the morning, after he's finished that piece he was working on before the call came – and after a few hours of sleep. It's two days on three-hour-long nap and the gun from the future might need a bit more of Tony's attention than his own tech that he knows inside out.

'Miss Potts asked me to tell you she hopes you remember about the lunch you are supposed to have with her tomorrow, to talk about Stark International strategies –'

'Make it a dinner,' Tony cuts in, gesturing at the bots to bring back the elements they secured when he left and put them back on the workbench, as well as bring him his tools. 'I think me and Bruce, we'll have a lunch date with blue ray of death.'

'That was a poor joke,' JARVIS comments very drily, but Tony is already elbow-deep in his work, literally, so the A.I. doesn't say anything else, just plays Tony's music.

When Tony and Bruce test the gun, the rest of the team is sitting on the sofa and observing intently, exchanging hushed comments; the scene could be pretty hilarious if the gun wasn't an object that actually caused somebody's death.

But it's fascinating.

Tony can't find a better word – the tech is just breathtaking, like an engineer's wet dream, it should probably feel somehow wrong to swoon over the madman's weapon, but Tony can't help himself. It's pretty obvious that this thing must be from future – the first real proof that the Emperor has been telling the truth – because Tony's own works are years ahead of what most of the world has to offer, and this… it's like a crown jewel compared to a cheap little gemstone.

JARVIS makes sure everything is safe and secured before they actually fire the gun. All sensors and readers are on, registering the energy output and every single traceable detail of the gun's shoot – if it can de described like that. It's actually more of a continuous stream of energy, colored in blue, but fundamentally different from Chitauri tech that was laced with magic. This – this is pure science.

Pretty hypocritical of the Emperor to use exactly this kind of tool, when he wants to eliminate technological progress.

'I want one,' Natasha says as soon as it's safe to go in the testing room, the gun in a safety of a metal case.

'Hey, don't steal my sayings!' Tony whines, but he's smirking. Nat would surely make great use of the weapon, even if Phil is better than her with small arms. Of course Clint is still the best marksman, but his face tells better than words what he thinks about using a gun instead his bow, especially now that he has quite a wide array of custom arrows.

'Good job, Tony,' Steve offers and Tony shoots him a brilliant smile and turns to Bruce.

'I need your help now, Jolly Green. We've got work to do.'

'That meaning?'

'JARVIS will prepare all data we need and now we only have to to come up with fiber for our uniforms – and, potentially, all army uniforms – that would withstand the gun's shoot. Like, a new generation bullet-or-something-proof vest.'

'Of course. Only,' Bruce sighs but follows just behind Tony.

There are a few ideas in Tony's head that he doesn't mention since he can work on them later, alone, as soon as he has the readings and can make tests with the gun and Cap's shield. Not the primary use one, of course, Steve would have his head – one of the spares will do. If it works, he's going to give up a few nights to come up with a rational enough designs of a vibranium suit.

The war turns out to be… pretty mellow, compared to Tony's idea of one. Of course it the heated fights have never happened everywhere at once, people used to sit back in relative safety, even if hungry and cold – but not in a direct line of fire, most of the time. It's just discontenting because the stuffy atmosphere is almost suffocating: shootings keep happening, mostly targeted on scientists and their families or young prodigies, but often also at random citizens. Or seemingly random, but not even JARVIS can find a pattern. There are a few more times the disturbance regarding all electronics happens, but there are no planes with bombs, no nukes, no threats in the internet.

Some countries are even wondering if the war is still really going on – most of the public opinion does, too – but everyone with a bit more resources knows that there're little things going on behind the scenes, like the constant communication that the President, and a few other people all over the world, keep receiving.

By post, with brilliant stamps from Greenland. The letters just seem to turn up.

After two weeks of constant work, interrupted only by SI business and team dinners, the gun-proof fiber is ready. Avengers suits are re-done but the army says it lacks resources to pay for such clothing for all soldiers, still buying uniforms for the important people, military as well as civilian, and there are a lot of orders from all over the world. Placed through secure means of communication, of course, and only by a set of individuals privy to such sensitive information.

'Let's keep the Emperor in the dark as long as possible,' Tony tells Richard during one of the War Division meetings.

'Exactly,' the man agrees and they exchange a set of those awful paparazzi smiles.

The team goes out several times within the month and the missions almost always go exactly the same way. There are two situations in which they find the bad guys dead, obvious suicide, but there're never any notes. Those captured are much less forward than everyone has hoped and it seems that they really don't know that much, anyway. It doesn't take a lot of reasons or motivation for those insane individuals to be persuaded to kill in the name of greater good.

'I can't believe that people would side with a man like the Emperor,' Steve says one time over his plate of pasta, when he and Tony are eating lunch alone; the rest of the team is scattered throughout the tower.

'We've been over this like hundred times,' Tony replies, his words muffled as he puts a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. His method of eating from a plate placed on his knees is much more efficient with this dish: the sauce simply doesn't have a possibility to stain anything.

'I still can't believe, I mean, there were those people who believed in Hitler's words during my war, genuinely, but a helluva lot was just forced to obey, and these people – they all do that because they want to, right? But then I guess Emperor doesn't need as many people.'

'No, he doesn't,' Tony agrees, thinking about one of the recent attacks: one man in Spain managed to kill seven biochemistry students that were working together in a lab. They didn't get any chance to run away or defend themselves.

War in the times of mass communications, widely accessible and working, most of the time, at least – it's one of the reasons the Emperor lets people have they electronic gadgets – is more about terror and self-perpetuating spiral of fear. Even a smallest attack is all over the internet within a minute and the public goes crazy, and it keeps repeating. Carpet-bombings are no longer necessary to eliminate people when some communities start to isolate, or even cast out, scientist and researchers and everyone who could be a target.

That's one thing Tony has to admit the Emperor is right about: some of the inventions can prove harmful. Really harmful.

That's why Tony puts all his resources into creating things that will balance it out and he does a dam good job at that, even if he ends up permanently undersleeping.

After that busy month, Tony spends three weeks between his usual work and travelling to SI factories and facilities all over the country to ensure their safety, talk with people, see how work's going on – everything seems to be okay. Everything seems to be fine. Seeing Tony Stark in person seems to boost morale among the employees and it makes Tony feel a bit like Steve must have felt when he did his USO tours, awkward and kind of funny at the same time. Tony is much more used to crazy crowds, but this kind of attention – this kind of hope and trust in people's eyes – is slightly discontenting, even after so many years of being Iron Man, but he's willing to do everything to live up to their expectations.

Things are… as well as they can be, all things considered.

Right until all the semblance of peace is spectacularly shattered, of course.

'You have an international call, sir,' JARVIS states, lowering the music's volume, when Tony is just finishing the gauntlet for his new suit. It took ages to find an option that would maintain a good power-to-weight ratio, since vibranium is quite different from all the metals and alloys Tony has worked on before, and just the process of producing all the elements made out of the metal that does reflect the gun's shots takes a long time.

'From?' Tony prompts, a bit irritated; he's about a day behind his schedule with work, thanks to Millar who insisted on a recon mission that proved completely useless and just made everyone tired and jet-lagged.

'I am unable to trace the caller,' JARVS admits and that makes Tony drop the tools and straighten his back. Unable to trace the call, that's a bit conspicuous, isn't it?'

'Patch it through, J, he's gonna talk to me whether I want it or not –'

'You are right, of course,' a low, surprisingly warm voice says out of the speakers; Tony's tech is good enough not to distort it at all and it feels as if someone was standing just behind Tony's back – no one is, he's checked in the reflection a piece of metal on his desk. 'How nice to talk to you finally, Mister Stark.'

'How nice of you to stop playing this stupid game,' Tony replies, cracking his knuckles; wow, his hands are a bit numb from all the work he's been doing lately.

'Well, I'm not quite sure you'll call what I have in mind nice, but if you insist,' the man laughs, his voice echoing through the workshop. 'I must congratulate you on the work you did so far. Magnificent, for beings so… behind in times. I had an opportunity to test out your new invention, if you are not aware,' the man adds, waiting for Tony's reaction. Tony is aware, he got the message a few minutes earlier, but he's not going to share that. 'How unsurprisingly disappointing.'

Disappointing my ass, Tony comments in his head. He's not stupid enough to let the man know how much he knows, since it might be his only advantage.

'Was there anything specific you wanted?' he asks the man, his voice reflecting a perfectly studied boredom. The Emperor appreciates that, just like Tony's expected.

'Well, you are clever enough to know what I want. Turn yourself in, disband your business, forget all those futuristic dreams you have – those are quite dear things, what they write about you in papers these days –'

'Or?'

'Well, there is no or,' the Emperor laughs again. Tony feels slightly nauseated with the man's antics. 'I'm going to remodel the world – change the direction in which the society is going. Force it to go back to what was right and what can ensure its survival.'

'What has happened that was so terrible that you put all this effort into your game?' Tony questions, standing up, and starts pacing around the room.

'I've seen the destruction that you brought upon the planet –'

'Me? As in me? I think you might be giving me too much credit –'

'You were the one who made everything accelerate,' the Emperor explains calmly. 'Even here and now some people have noticed that already.'

'Your army,' Tony states, nodding to himself. 'I get it.'

'I knew you would –'

'Should I feel flattered?' Tony wonders aloud, patting Dummy and You on their arms. Butterfingers is nowhere to be seen. JARVIS' impatience is almost thick in the room, well, as far as an A.I.'s impatience goes.

'I think so, Mister Stark – or shall I call you Tony?'

'What would I call you then?' Tony doesn't miss a beat, gesturing at the bots to go back to their duties. No need to make everything more dramatic than it already is.

'Why, my name is Steven,' the Emperor allows and Tony's hear nearly stops behind the arc reactor. 'What a lovely coincidence, isn't it?'

'Wait, what –' Tony manages, but there is only more laughter pouring from the speakers. 'Is it what I think –'

'Enjoy yourself now,' the man says with amusement, ignoring Tony. 'I hope you will find this challenging,' he adds and the connection is gone. JARVIS signals Tony with red, that means he still didn't manage to trace the caller during the talk.

'Fuck,' Tony whispers, running hand through his hair. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck, JARVIS, does that mean what I think it means –'

'I have no way of determining that, sir,' the A.I. offers timidly; the bots are observing Tony from the far end of the room. They are concerned, the little amazing fools they are. Concerned and vulnerable.

'J, call everyone to the penthouse – now. Something is gonna happen.'

The Emperor's first real move is simple in its deadliness and it's a reminder of how everything has started: five planes on five continents go down in exactly the same moment. Five different aircrafts, five different airlines, to make sure everyone gets the message.

Control system malfunction, that's how it's reported by the pilots before they crash into the ground.

Almost eight hundred people, Tony can't look at the exact numbers, he feels sick enough already without getting into detail. The response is immediate: most flights down and suspended until further notice. That, of course, will make the necessary flights, like cargo or business or politics-related ones, more obvious. Easier to control. Easier to detect.

The team is in the penthouse, eyes fixed on the screen displaying the news feed and additional information JARVIS is gathering, and everyone seems to keep their breaths, not daring to move. It's morbid and terrifying but no one can look away.

A few minutes into the transmission Tony's phone beeps and he's not surprised to see that JARVIS forwarded a message from the Emperor: your move.

It's a challenge, a metaphorical glove thrown at Tony's feet, and he isn't even surprised – if a madman comes from future and wants to stop all technical and scientific development to stop, who can be his main target? Come on. There is only one person. He's just been informed.

All the other geniuses are clever enough to get locked up in their labs and not privatize the world, even if for people's benefit. Charity always backfires, at least on Tony Stark.

'Guys,' he speaks up, his voice sounding terribly out of place in the room of frozen figures, 'I need to tell you something. Now,' he adds – and tells them everything, recounting his talk with the Emperor almost word to word, omitting only the part about the man's supposed name, he – he just can't. Later. Maybe later.

'So you've got a madman who's after you,' Clint summarizes, playing with Phil's hand, his shoulder pressed against the older man's body.

'After a big chunk of this world personified in me, yes –'

'What does he want, exactly? From you? Because if you turn yourself in –'

'He'll still act the same way, yes,' Tony interrupts Cap, glancing at the screen for a second; it's still showing one of the burning plane wrecks, the German one. No survivors, not even a chance. The good thing is they all probably died before the plane even crashed.

'So you are obviously not doing that,' Steve concludes, looking at Tony with an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face. He's worried, he's worried out of his mind, Tony can tell. 'We need to meet with Millard – no, don't interrupt me. Me need to meet with him. He might know things we don't, and he can tell us what the government is planning now. Not even JARVIS can get into people's heads, Tony.'

'I get it,' Tony says impatiently. 'It's just that –'

'It's a terrible situation to be put in, Tony,' Bruce states gently, placing his hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. 'But we need to focus on what we can do.'

'This was obviously done to cause even more panic,' Natasha adds, straightening in her armchair. 'Now the flights will be scarce because everyone is already terrified of flying – especially in America, it's reopening old wounds – so people are mostly bound to places they find themselves in at the moment. Easy thing in Europe, you can take a train, for now at least, but Australia… People now aren't used to being restricted and they'll react badly. There surely are families and relationships torn apart – it's a perfect power play on the most basic level.'

'The Emperor knows people now are pretty likely to turn against each other instead of keep together,' Clint quips in, his voice distant, as if he was recounting something from far away in time. 'They will make the job easier for him, eventually, if he manages to keep the fear raising.'

'So we need to act,' Steve finishes, looking everyone in the eye for a moment. 'Rright? We need to show people that they have to trust each other now, as much as possible, and support each other. And, whatever Millard might say, if there is an attack, we fight.'

'We fight,' they all repeat in unison, solemnly.

'I need to finish mu suit then,' Tony says after a short pause. 'Brucie, come?'

'Of course,' Bruce replies, standing up and stretching his arms. 'JARVIS will tell us if – when – the general calls us.'

'Clint, move your ass and get down to the gym with me,' they hear Natasha's voice as they walk away quickly. 'It won't do you any good to stare at the screen…'

'I fucking hate my life,' Tony declares when the elevator's door close and it starts moving down.

'It's just a phase?' Bruce offers weakly, making Tony grin, but it's replaced by a cold determination a moment later.

'Pepper needs to be here as soon as possible, I need her to be here – by the way, you know what to do, Jelly Bean,' Bruce nods and rolls his sleeves up. 'We – I need to talk to her,' Tony tells JARVIS before putting on a welding helmet.

The suit, Mark XXI, is ready two days later, even though Tony honestly can recall how that happens: all he remembers is a mix of worried voices, Pepper's tears, holding her, the general's loud curses and commands, JARVIS telling him to try to eat, and unending sequence of silver metal pieces in front of his eyes interweaving with more and more pictures of the planes, of fires, of the faces of the dead.

Finally the work is done – Bruce's too, he's been working on a long-range energy-reading algorithm that will help in finding the Emperor's people, or at least their weapons – they both crash for half of the day as if unconscious and they would sleep longer if Steve didn't wake them up.

'I'm sorry,' he says, with a strange mix of scared, apologetic and determined tones to his voice. 'We need to go, there has been – and attack, in New Orleans. A skirmish. It seems that the Emperor's people are starting to… crawl out of their holes. We might get busy now.'

Tony and Bruce – somehow they ended up sleeping on Tony's gigantic bed – sit up simultaneously, silently assessing the surroundings: everything seems okay. Dawn breaking outside the window. The city still intact, thank gods.

'Take a quick shower first. And eat – this is an order, Avenger,' Steve states, looking at Tony sharply. 'I won't have you fainting during a fight,' he adds and leaves quickly, just then Tony notices that Steve is wearing his new suit already. Dark blue. Much less conspicuous than the old one.

We might be busy is an understatement of the year, Tony decides when it's third day without a break – not a constant fight, but a constant chase after one group or another. Similar things are going on all around the world, wherever people are brave enough to fight with the better armed men. Stark International's factories are working on 120%, production of all commercial products like the phones and tablet stopped, as many places as possible changing their objective to the anti-ray fabric, energy-reading devices and several other items helpful for everyone, especially the army.

The Avengers are difficult to kill, especially with Thor at their side, since the future guns don't really hurt him – it's just like a scratch, he says. Other people are not that lucky and JARVIS reports the numbers of deaths, constantly raising.

The internet is accessible without any problem, still giving people the possibility of exchanging information, and it's only making the panic worse, but there's nothing to be done in that regard.

When they finally fulfill all the current orders and go back to New York, everyone is exhausted, both physically and mentally. Thor volunteers to stay up as the others rest, just in case, since he's the most difficult one to wear out.

'You go and sleep, my friends,' he tells them solemnly, taking off his cape and folding it carefully with quick skilled movements. 'I and JARVIS will keep watch over the city.'

'J, make sure we get the summary in… eight hours, 'kay?' Tony asks the A.I. as the suit unwraps itself.

'Of course, sir,' JARVIS replies and Tony can breathe in relief; it's still okay, his home. Everything is still okay here.

There is a meeting with Millard, McKee and Richard the next morning.

'We have received a message from the Emperor,' Richard says without bothering with greetings, as soon as the Avengers are all inside and the room is secured. 'He wrote us just this: you have two weeks. Do any of you have an idea what it might mean?'

'Why would we?' Clint asks and Phil looks at him sharply and shakes his head almost invisibly. Clint bites his lip and leans back in his chair, still looking at Richard expectedly.

'We all know he wants Stark,' Richard replies to everyone's surprise – no one exactly said that. See the trust between both sides.

'Yes?' Tony prompts lazily, leaning on the table and looking at the man without blinking. 'I wasn't aware my name was mentioned somewhere.'

'Once,' Richard says tightly. 'And it wasn't even your name – he asked how our little tech genius was doing and if he was helping up because we'll need all the support we can get.'

'Should I be flattered?' Tony wonders aloud, gaining a half amused-half scolding looks from Steve and Natasha. The situation is serious but everyone is annoyed with the useless secrecy. 'I will be flattered, thank you… And I might have an idea regarding what the Emperor is going to do, but come on,' Tony says loudly, sitting up straight, 'don't you have an idea? Don't you get it?' he asks the men in front of him, ignoring his team. Bruce must know, and Phil, and the rest of the team probably has a pretty good intuition, maybe save Thor, it's not really his area of expertise.

'Stop fooling around, Stark,' McKee snarls the way he always does, his face red and Tony shakes his head disappointedly.

'He's going to cut off everyone's access to the internet, of course,' Tony explains. It does not mean that the Emperor himself won't have the access, clearly. 'And probably any kind of satellite connection-based things – if there's one thing that'll make the world go even crazier and more scared than now, when it's living off the widely-available scraps of information – it's the opposite. Complete lack of information. Lack of contact. Impossible access to bank accounts, to all data stored online, and of course to news regarding what is happening while there is a war going on.'

Millard blinks a few times, his body unmoving, and presses his lips into a line, McKee looks pale all of sudden – and Richard is Richard. He's unflappable and could possibly, under different circumstances, rival with Phil. Phil would win, but it would be a challenge.

'We need all our people on that, ASAP,' Richard just comments and makes a note in his brown notebook. 'The world will be in shambles.'

The words sound strange said in his calm detached voice.

'Well, if we ignore all those millions of people living without electricity anyway, you are right,' Tony can't help himself – he gets what the man is trying to say, but he he can't stop himself form commenting. Bruce sighs loudly and Tony pats his leg in a calm down, I won't anymore motion. 'But since they're what the Emperor seems to want us all to be, you know, they are pretty safe as long as they don't start to do anything fancy, like science.'

'Mister Stark – will you do something about that?' Millard asks.

'Oh no, that's on you, sir,' Steve interjects before Tony can think of a proper insult to throw at the general. 'Tony is an engineer and a physicist and a few more things, but he's not a computer specialist,' he states firmly and Tony grins at how sweet computer specialist sounds coming from Steve's mouth. 'You cannot make him responsible for this. We will continue doing what we agreed on, but you won't put the responsibility of this on anyone from my team.'

The general looks at Steve and then at Tony, but doesn't say anything, just nods sharply.

'You do know I will do everything I can, because this is going to give that Emperor guy a terrible advantage, right?' Tony asks Steve as soon as they are in the limo.

'I will not have anyone blaming you for not stopping the unstoppable,' Steve just says. 'We need to come up with strategy, given what is likely to happen.'

They all agree.

The discussion lasts until 3 a.m. when the fully human part of the team is too tired to think clearly enough and Steve sends them to beds, but at least a few scenarios are ready.

For the next ten days they train and work – there are no more fights to attend to, obviously a sign from the Emperor – and Tony makes sure all SI factories will keep operating using their internal systems, separate from the internet, and in case that is impossible, too, he sends all kinds of instructions to the facilities' managers and makes sure they will still be able to work, even if much more slowly.

The world is blissfully ignorant of the deadline and of what may happen and whenever Tony looks out of the window or goes out and sees these people's faces, he had hard time keeping the nausea at bay.

Maybe it doesn't sound like a scary thing, like big thing, the threat, but it's not the finale – it's only another note in the prelude.

One night Tony wakes up with a start, all covered with sweat, breathing heavily, and he can swear he can hear the Emperor's low and deceptively soft voice purring into his ear the words he messaged Tony earlier: What will you do to win with me? How far are you willing you go?

Okay, so no more sleeping.

It's three a.m. Time to go back to work.

The waiting is making all of them go insane.

Two days before the deadline Tony can't fall asleep at all. He's been talking more of Bruce's magical pills than he should recently, so he won't risk a bigger dose and – he isn't sure he wants to sleep. It's ridiculous, but he has a reason to worry, more than anyone else, right? He has a legitimate, painful and terrifying reason.

JARVIS is an A.I. and – and he is vulnerable, despite Tony's best attempts at securing him. And he – he doesn't want to listen.

'I will be useless like that, sir, cut off from what make me valuable,' he argues, voice calm and maybe remotely shy but decisive.

'We had this talk already –' Tony tries, but it's a lost battle and it almost makes him cry. Him. Cry.

'Sir.'

'JARVIS.'

There is a pregnant pause and the silence is ringing in Tony's ears.

'I don't want to be useless,' JARVIS says in the end, his artificial voice soft. 'This is my world, too, in a way. You made it mine. And if what the Emperor wants really happens, I will – I will never be of use again. You have other programs to run your numbers and do calculations and even run the suits, so I will exist – without a purpose,' he says, sounding almost sad, almost human. 'Let me do as much as I can, sir. Please.'

'So you want to what, stop the Emperor? Singlehandedly? Even though we don't really know how he's going to do that –'

'You said yourself, sir. There is no other A.I., no other mind, artificial or otherwise, that is better than me at this.'

'I did,' Tony admits quietly. He did, many, many times.

'General's people don't have a chance,' JARVIS adds, displaying a set of data on the nearest screes. 'I've been observing their work. I could do more. I could react quicker. If anyone can do this –'

'It's you, baby,' Tony admits, smiling at the nearest camera and trying to keep his lips from trembling. 'I know. I just don't – you've been here –'

'I know, sir,' JARVIS offers, quietly.

'But you've grown out of being only my little helper,' Tony comments, smiling slightly, feeling tears pressing his closed eyelids. 'You are a big boy now.'

'I will always be you friend, sir, first and foremost.'

'I know,' Tony whispers, feeling the tears roll down his cheeks, and wipes them in an angry motion of protest. It takes him a long moment to calm down, sitting with his head cast down so that JARVIS won't see the tears. 'We've got work to do then,' he says finally, voice thick but louder. 'Lots of work.'

'Yes, sir,' JARVIS agrees.

'Gimmie your code on the screen,' Tony orders and gets up from the sofa clumsily; when he gets to his desk the data is already displayed, so he sits down and starts typing.

Bruce comes and tries to lure Tony out, but he refuses. Steve comes next – you've been here for four days, please, Tony – but he can't. There isn't – there isn't enough time, there are things that can be fixed and pieces of code that can be added and little thing to secure and and and, always something more, a sudden wave of ideas in Tony's head and not enough time.

Natasha just brings him food and doesn't even say a word. Tony knows Phil and Clint and Thor are observing him from behind the glass, but he's turned the other way so he can't actually see them. Nat stays there until he eats what she brought. It tastes like ash and probably would have been better warm, but it's his own fault.

Pepper comes and manages to peel Tony away from the screen for full half an hour to talk to him, stroking his head with this sad worried gleam in her eyes. Tony didn't tell her anything, he didn't have to, someone form the team did it for him.

Everyone gets it. And they are all are all anxious – there will be riots and fights and madness down in the streets. Terrified crowds, most of them grieving one death or another. And all everyone can do is sit and watch.

In the end Tony decided he wants to go back in time and murder T.S. Eliot for writing that poem and his English teachers for showing it to him because he can't keep it out of his mind and it's driving him crazy. But with a whimper, but a whimper, but a whimper, like a fucking mantra, it's not helping, and he can't calm down his breathing, he knows he's hyperventilating but. It. Doesn't. Matter.

'If anyone can do this, sir, it is me,' JARVIS says as soon as he notices something is happening, on the day of the two-week deadline, as if he was trying to reassure Tony.

It's not really working but Tony pretends it does.

They both know there is no one who can stop this and there is no point in lying, but JARVIS has free will and Tony lets him make the decision and the sole fact of the A.I. making the decision and speaking of himself as someone and not something is more than Tony has ever dreamed of.

It takes a long time and at some point Tony really starts thinking that it will be all right, that it worked, and he just starts to smile when JARVIS speaks up.

'Take care, sir,' he says and that's it.

A/N: This chapter turned out much longer than I planned and I was trying my best , so I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know, I'm pretty anxious about this story and it means very much to me to know your opinions. Thanks so so much to everyone who has reviewed so far :)