Tony didn't do any work the first day. M&M made him look over the plans and make a list of all the materials that he would need. Then he ordered him to bed. Early to sleep, early to rise.

Tony laughed. "I'm sorry. You must really not know me at all. I can sleep when I'm dead." He paused. "Not that...you know. I encourage that type of thinking. Because I don't. But I'm hardly tired, and I am curious about this machine. What does it do exactly."

"You do not need to know, Mister Stark."

"Mm, perhaps not. However, it usually does help me in putting the thing together. You know. Form following function and all that." He folded his arms and gave the man a friendly smile.

Sighing as if put upon, M&M's eyelids fluttered.

"Oh come on now. You're going to keep it a secret?" Tony grinned.

"You are very trying, Tony Stark."

"So I've been told, M."

"M?"

He chewed on a lip. "Mm, fitting, actually. I think. Partially. Been calling you 'mystery man' in my head, so really it's "M&M," but that's too long. So just M. M was the head of MI6. So you know. M for mystery. It's all sorts of fitting."

Smiling wanly, M strolled around the table. "I see."

"Big fan of James Bond, you know. 'Course, I think I'm just a better, smarter, cleverer version of James Bond, so... You gonna tell me what this thing does?"

"This is a special machine..." The man paused in front of the board where the designs were tacked and trailed a finger along them.

"Yeeess...?"

Clearing his throat, he turned to face Tony. "I need this machine. I will not tell you now. Leave it to your...considerable...imagination." Another thin smile.

Tony sighed. "That will be... That will be very frustrating for me. I don't know if I can work on it if I don't know what it is."

"You will, Tony Stark, work on my machine. And perhaps, when I am ready, I will tell you what it is supposed to do. Now. Get some sleep, and you will begin tomorrow." He picked up the list off the table. "We will have your materials and tools that you need to work."

"I'll get my own workshop?"

"You shall have your own workshop."

"High tech?" He arched his brows up hopefully.

"It will have everything you require. Now please follow Jan here, and she will show you your room."

"I get my own room? Wow, you really know how to show a guy a good time." He watched Jan—mousy Jan, flat blonde hair. Her lip almost curled as she looked at him.

"Follow me," she said lowly, voice a little husky.

"Hey babe."

"Touch me and die."

Tony made a face at the wall and immediately waited until he was about four steps behind. "Right then. So... you're probably not one for parties..."

"Not with the likes of you."

So they didn't like him. Obviously. The guy have something against Stark Industries? Tony frowned at her back. Did they all? Was this a work-together-to-take-down-the-enemy type of deal?

Jan paused in front of a door. "Here. You'll be guarded. So don't even think of sneaking out."

"Wouldn't want to sneak past you, darlin.'"

"Call me that again, and you'll find that you can suddenly sing octaves higher."

He hissed with a grin. "Ooh, you... That's just not nice." Let them think he was a bit dumber and much less concerned than he actually was. Always use your advantages, Stark. Steve had told him that. Use what you have.

"Get in the room, Stark."

"Ouch! Not even graced with a 'mister?' Even your employer does that..."

"Get. In. The room." She pulled out a knife.

"Aaaand you probably know how to use that really well, don't you..." He raised his hands in placation and backed into the open door that she then shut in his face and locked. "Good night to you too, sweetheart!"

He sighed and looked around, the cot looking relatively comfortable. There was a basin and a towel, a toilet, and, of course, the cot. Which was so kindly bolted to the floor. Tony stripped off his jacket and hung it on the back of the doorknob. If he was right, then Steve probably didn't remember anything about his kidnapping. So that means he didn't know that Tony was missing and not where he was supposed to be: Japan. Shit, Pepper was going to kill him. That meeting was important. Tony sighed and sank onto the cot, fluffed the pillow, and flopped back. He kicked off his shoes and noted the camera in the corner. So much for plans A-C. And plans D, F, and P. Because Jan was guarding outside the room. He closed his eyes.

Opened them. Squinted at his watch. Something smelled good. It was 7:34. Why in God's name was he up so early? He frowned and swung his feet to the ground, pacing around the perimeter of his small room.

"Got food for you, Stark, if you want breakfast."

"I don't do breakfast, Jan, only coffee," he mumbled back. The lock clicked on the door and he winced at the sudden light streaming in from the hallway. "Well good morning, beautiful."

"Are you ready to get to work?" She asked him flatly. "This is your chance to eat, Stark. If you want it."

"No. No I'm good. Let's get to work then."

Jan prodded him down the hallway.

"What's my new workshop like?" He asked, grinning over his shoulder. Jan said nothing, just jabbed the small of his back. "Or not. You know."

As workshops go, it was obviously a step down from his least technologically advanced 'shop. It was, however, several delightful steps up from what he'd used in Afghanistan. He was so kindly provided with everything he needed. Pulling the board over, he perched on a stool and examined all the parts, connections, bits, and pieces. By about 10:30 he was ready to start, but he waited until after lunch to really get started. And by get started, Tony meant organise all of the materials and tools to his liking. He could have gotten started already, he could be well on his way. But why rush himself when this was probably a very bad device anyway?

They stopped him at dinner time, and Tony was once again the dinner guest of M, Jan and a variety of other guards standing around.

"I keep eating this often and I'm going to get fat," Tony commented as they finished. "Don't want me to get fat, do you?" He grinned and leaned back in his chair.

"Nonsense, Mister Stark," M said with another thin smile. Those were getting annoying. "We merely want you healthy and up on your energy to work for us."

"Ah yes. Are you going to tell me what it does?"

"I do not think you are ready for that. Quite yet." M sipped his wine, perfectly at ease. "Did you want to get back to work after dinner?"

"Sure," Tony said with a shrug. "Dunno why not. Not like there's anything else that's keeping me busy, right?" And laughed, sipping the coke they'd given him.

It wasn't until a similar scene at dinner the next day that he realised something was wrong. He'd eaten breakfast that morning. He never at breakfast. And, more worrying, had been blasé about his coffee. That afternoon, M had smugly explained the device to him after Tony had, admittedly, bothered him about it.

"It's a device that should effectively neutralise all of the superpowered abilities of mutants," M had begun, lacing his fingers across one knee.

"So everybody becomes normal again?"

M had nodded. "Yes. Everyone becomes normal again. Equalise the world."

"Oh." Tony had merely nodded and gotten back to soldering.

Now, however, as they lead him back to the workshop, he wondered why on earth he was being so agreeable. He was a damn hostage, for Pete's sake. Why was he letting them handle him like this? Tony frowned, pushing open the door, Jan behind him. The thoughts tried to skitter away as he laid eyes on the designs, but he pinched his inner arm and settled himself on his stool. Jan returned to her place by the door, arms folded and intimidating.

Moving slowly, Tony's mind whirred through the fog. He was working for them. Willingly. But it was only something to do while he waited for Steve to rescue him? But Steve didn't remember currently. And M didn't seem to bothered with Tony. He frowned. They'd done something to him. Shit. The food. They were making him more agreeable through the food. There was something in his food. They were suppressing his...inquisitiveness? His independence. Tony let loose a stream of curses. That was a dangerous thing to do.

"Something wrong, Stark?" Jan asked, taking a few steps closer.

Shit. "No, I—well. Yes." Fuck. "I messed up. I have to start over..." He turned on his stool and gave her his best innocent sheepish look. "I missed a connection back here, on the inside, in this gear mechanism, and I—"

"Don't need a run down," she interrupted. "Just get on with it."

"Alright, alright... Why don't you like me, Jan?" He watched her out of the corner of his eye, tinkering with the parts on the table. He looked up to catch her look of disbelieving disgust. "What? What!"

"You have no idea, do you?"

"I...have no idea," Tony said slowly, raising an eyebrow at her.

She snorted. "Then you're an idiot."

"I am many things, but I am not an idiot."

Jan just stared at him. Then huffed and strode away. "You're disgusting."

"Hey! I take offence to that!"

"Get back to work, ass."

Tony deconstructed all the work that he'd done so far on his project and redid a little of the work just to make it seem like he'd gotten something done. Mindless hand-work that he could lose himself in while he tried to put together all the pieces. They wanted him to build this machine. Jan hated him. M hated him? He shook his head. Maybe. Getting rid of all of the superpowereds. That was serious. That would be a problem. Would it though? Tony wouldn't change. No more Doom. No more Magneto. That was a good thing, right? Of course, but it would also mean that Steve changed back? Would Steve change? His change happened at more of a cellular level. But if Steve changed—Tony shook his head. This machine would make everyone normal again. No more Sentry. No more Wolverine. No more Wasp. No more Xavier. No more Hulk. And what about Thor? Shit. This was bad.

So the only solution... Stop eating.

Tony didn't take coffee or breakfast the next morning claiming an upset stomach. And then plead off lunch in favour of working. Insisted they bring him a plate when he refused to come with them. And flashed a charming smile that at least made Jan less grouchy about fetching it. And when she turned her back, he mushed the food around, following the wide-spread practise of picky four-year old eaters everywhere.

And it worked. For two days. Then M came to visit him in the lab mid-day.

"Why aren't you eating?"

He looked up from pretending to work and smiled. "Hm?" If he could hold out another three days, they'd know that something was wrong, without Steve having to remember.
"You heard me."

"Busy. I get all wrapped up in stuff. And I don't quite—"

"Why. Aren't you eating?"

He gave her a pitying smile. "You really know nothing about me, do you."

"I know enough," she snapped.

Swivelling on his stool, he leaned back against the bench and looked her over. "Why do you hate me?"

Her face pinched immediately. "This is why no one likes you."

"Because I ask questions?"

"Stop it," she hissed, leaning towards him with the intent of violence.

"Whoa, whoa." He threw his hands up. "I don't know why you hate me. I mean, there must be something."

"My family is dead because of you!"

Oh. Tony dropped his hands, eyes following them down to his lap. "Weapons?"

"Damn right it was weapons. Weapons made by you," she spat.

Giving her what he hoped was a grin and not a grimace, he nodded. "Yeah. Listen. I'm sorry. I...I've been trying to get Stark made stuff out of the wrong hands."

"Not good enough." She straightened, face once again a mask.

"I've been trying. I'm sorry. And I know that's not good enough, Jan, but I really am sorry. You see this?" He tapped his arc reactor through the t-shirt. She watched him warily. "I was hurt by my own damn weapons. And this is what keeps me alive. I stopped weapons production. It's done. Been done. And...And I'm trying to make up for it..."

"Not. Good. Enough." Then turned and stalked away.

Tony looked back down at the machinery he was working on, chest feeling tight. He was making up for it. Right?