Steve didn't sleep.
Whatever there was to be done, he was doing it. And if Jan thought he missed the pitying looks she gave him when she pressed a fresh mug of coffee into his hand, well. Maybe Tony got preferential treatment from Steve, but to Captain America, Tony was a valuable team member who was currently constricted into building a machine that would mean the end of them all. Figuratively and symbolically speaking.
The car belonged to a David Long. Who had reported it stolen. The men in the video were untraceable, even Logan unable to help what with all the time that passed. However, their search had widened, or was it narrowed, to include places where one might have the space to build a machine like Tony had been asked. Questioning Reed, it needed a strong power source, but it didn't need to be a very big machine. And Tony would probably find a way to streamline it, if the arc reactor and armour were any indicators to go by. So the space didn't need to be very large.
So Steve had people check by all major New York power plants and facilities for suspicions of power syphoning. Within the hour, he was told that none of them reported decreased power levels.
"Peter, double check their systems."
Peter looked at him sharply. "Sorry what?"
"Double. Check. I want to be sure they're not lying. There's a possibility that some of the service workers could have been bribed to lie to us. Or aren't smart enough to know their systems are being hacked."
Peter sighed and turned right back around to head into the den where he'd been cooped up. "Sure, sure."
"Peter..."
Peter paused in the doorway and looked at Steve. "Yeah, Cap?"
"Sorry. I'm pushing you. And...thank you. For all of your help."
Shrugging a shoulder, Peter gave him a lop-sided grin. "It's Tony."
He laughed, short and low. "Yeah. It's Tony. I do play favourites, don't I?"
"Well, can't have Mom without Dad."
He rolled his eyes. "Go hack their systems."
"Get Reed to help. We'll double-team their systems."
"Good idea." He got Jan to call and then nibbled on his thumb, pacing for the next forty-seven minutes while they worked.
"Oh. Oh. Steve! STEVE! We got it!" Peter shouted, jumping up from his chair and flipping about a bit.
"Where?" Steve demanded breathlessly.
"Here!" Peter pointed at the map on the screen. "North city."
"Jan!" Steve shouted over his shoulder. "The jet! Let's go!" They were there in record time, but with no easy place to land, Steve growled, grabbed Peter's shoulder and said, "You're with me. Find something to swing from and we're going in!"
"Cap, they're underground," Carol said from the cockpit. "That's what the sensors read."
Steve pushed the door open then pushed Peter out and jumped.
"You can't warn a guy when you're giving him the long walk off a short pier?" Peter yelped, but his web caught the Quinjet and his arm was around Steve's waist, so they were good.
"Get me to the ground. That building!" Steve pointed him towards a small flat building next to the water.
"Geeze, you're heavier than you look!" Peter groaned, but he swung and flung Cap with a line on him towards the building.
Steve landed and threw only a brief glance back at the jet landing nimbly, thank you Tony, on top of a squat parking garage.
"Steve," Jan's voice said over his comm. "You're not going in alone, right?"
He waffled over lying, but then said, "Yes. Just follow me, carefully, as quick as you can." And unslung the shield from his back.
"Steve...! Steve, that's a bad idea!" Jan said, other voices echoing the sentiment around her.
"Don't care," he muttered, loping down the sidewalk to the corner. No one guarded the door. Nor were there any security cameras. So Steve pushed the (unlocked) door open and crept down the darkened hall. "This might not be the right building. There doesn't seem to be anyone he—well. Spoke too soon." Steve paused at the juncture of a hallway. "This is it," he murmured lowly.
"Steve. Steve, please be careful. We're following you in."
"Great. Set perimeter. Make sure no one gets out." He leaned around the corner and flung his shield. The men fell like dominoes, and he was running towards them snagging his shield out of the air. Slamming one who tried to rise on the head, Steve loped past them, raising to guard against the spatter of bullets that was aimed at him.
"Steve!"
"Fine! Just get in here!" He stopped at the mouth of a new hallway, ten or so people staring at his sudden appearance. There was suddenly a lot of shouting as Steve flung his shield, growling under his breath. He pinned the last one to a wall. "Where's Tony."
The woman sneered. "We were wondering when you were going to show up."
He shook her. "Where is he."
"I'm not telling."
"I will hurt you."
"Oh, you mean your sensitive sensibilities aren't offended? Captain America."
He hesitated maybe a second and then punched her in the gut. "Tell. Me."
"You won't find him here..." she wheezed on his arm.
"What do you mean?"
She grinned and then sagged in his hold.
Steve swore, dropped her and took off as he heard the sound of feet coming up behind him.
"Steve!" several voices chorused behind him.
"Spread out! Find Tony!" he barked as he took off down a hall. Peter swung overhead.
"I got your back! Head—I'm with you!"
"Thanks, Spider-Man." And pounded down the hallway, until he rounded the corner and came face to face with a man in a light grey suit. They both froze, the man throwing up an arm in a gesture of defense. "You..." Steve frowned at him, mind churning. "I know you." The man looked surprised and then darted back down the hall, Steve easily catching him and pinning him face-first against the wall. "Where is Tony Stark?"
The man almost sobbed a laugh.
"Where is he?"
"Hey, uh, Cap...?"
"Keep searching, Spider-Man. Let me know if you find him."
"You won't," the man gasped. Peter paused, dropping to the ground, hovering at Steve's shoulder.
"Where is he?" He gouged a thumb into the man's lower back, memories floating around his mind, images, this man.
"Ah-ah..!" He arched into the wall."
He'd seen him before. When he and Tony... He and Tony had been kidnapped. This was the man who had taken them. "I know you have Tony."
"He is useless," the man spat.
Somewhere relief made itself known, that Tony hadn't built the machine. Or finished it. That it couldn't be a threat. Steve grit his teeth and asked the question to which he didn't really want to know the answer. "Is he alive still?"
"Perhaps."
"Tell me." He slammed the man against the wall.
He only laughed, voice tinged with hysteria.
Steve leaned close and whispered in the man's ear, "I will kill you."
His laughter abated into gasping breaths. "Oh.. It doesn't matter... My life. It is over anyway. What have I left to live for?"
"Pe—Spider-Man, bind him up and we're going on."
Peter nodded and then they were off again, Peter going one way, Steve pounding down the other hallway, freezing a mousy blonde woman. "Where is Tony Stark?"
The woman snorted in his grasp and tossed her head.
"I asked you a question," he snarled. "And I'm not above asking a different way to get my people back."
"You superhumans..." she sneered. "This you can get whatever you want by threatening."
"Is that what this is about? One-upping the superpowereds?" Steve stared at her until she dropped her eyes. "Because we're usually here to help you. And Iron Man is a part of the Avengers. Who help people."
The woman sighed, scowling over Steve's shoulder.
"Where is he?"
"He's not here," she muttered.
"So I've been hearing. Where. Is. Tony Stark."
"Are you sure you want him back?"
"Stop wasting my time!" He shook her a little.
"They took him out the back and are headed towards the coast."
"Damn it." Clicked his comm. "Who's in the Quinjet? Head towards the coast!" Looked back at her. "What does the vehicle look like?"
"It's a silver van that says 'Mallorey Lighting' on the side."
"Hear that?"
"Roger, bub."
"Wolverine. Great. I'm headed to the roof, pick me up. Anyone else who can get there, get there! Or else you're finding your own way!" The woman sagged when he let go of her. "You think you're the only one who's lost someone because of superpowereds?"
Looking at him sharply, she wobbled a bit and shook her head. "My family..."
"Mine too," Steve said harshly and then ran for the roof.
More than half of the group congregated on the roof, waiting for Logan. Those still below opted to stay below. And finish up business. Logan got out when he landed and handed the jet over to Carol to fly so he could participate in the...finishing up of business.
"Silver—"
"Van with 'Mallorey Lighting' on the side. Got it," Carol said, sending the jet into the sky and shooting towards the coast. Jan ran visuals, everyone on high alert, Steve himself tense and not thinking favourably about the state in which they'd find Tony. If those—"Carol! There! Left side! Tiny road!"
"I see it!" The jet veered sharply sending everyone scrambling for hand-holds.
"Get close enough that I can drop down," Steve said lowly next to her head.
She looked up at him. "Want me to just park the jet in front of him on the road?"
He blinked at her. "Uh. Yeah. Yeah, do that." And then when they landed, Steve jumped out, shield at ready, vaguely wondering how bad the damage would be if he were to be run over. Because Steve Rogers was. Not. Moving.
Which was lucky because the van skid to a halt, swerving slightly around Steve, only to be faced with the rest of the Avengers present. He strode to the driver's side and pulled the door open. "Get out."
The man driving looked at his partner and then flinched when Steve repeated his request. Then he got out of the van. Clint pulled his partner out the other side.
"Go lie on the ground, your hands on the back of your head," Steve said as he strode around to the back of the van. "Hawkeye, if they don't do it, you have my permission to be forceful."
"Awesome."
He heard the men hit the street and raised unsteady hands to the handles on the van, hesitating only half a second before he threw them open. Every minute was—
"Oh."
Tony.
"Oh God..."
He.
"Tony."
What...
He backed up. Short of breath. Sagging slightly despite hands gripping the open doors. Stared at pavement.
"Cap?"
Jan's voice.
"Cap, is Tony ba—oh God."
Her feet in his peripheral turned away quickly.
"Help! Now!"
Feet pounding. Clint's creative cursing. Steve stepped forward. Time slowed down. Pulse. There. Weak. Fingers scraping on dried blood.
"Ste—Cap. We need to get him to a hospital. Now," Jan pleaded, grabbing at his shoulder.
"Yeah," he said, sounding a thousand miles away.
"Now. Can you pick him up? Should we pick him up? I don't—"
"I'll lift him." The van dipped as he half climbed inside to scoop Tony into his arms. Tony who didn't move, face didn't even shift as Steve cradled him to his chest. Oh God. He was cold. Tony was cold. "That's a bad sign."
"What? What's a bad sign?" Luke asked, joining them. "Oh fuck."
"He's cold."
"Let's go, Cap. Come on. We have to go."
"I'll stay here and get these two to the cops," Clint said, backing away with a jerked thumb.
Glaring at them until they flinched, Steve trotted to the jet, trying to keep Tony from being jostled. He somehow didn't think they would arrive there in the condition that they were now.
"I'll give him some help," Luke said, folding his arms. "You don't need me at the hospital."
For all that the trip to the hospital was short, Steve could hardly blink as he stared at Tony. Bruises. Cuts. Burns. Welts. His eyes looked like sunken pits. And as the memories finally slotted into place, it was such a difference from the well put-together Tony he had last seen. His shirt must have been given up as a lost cause because it was gone. His feet were bare. Slashed. Bruised. Nicked. Burned. Broken.
He took a deep breath that did nothing to steady himself.
Tony's pants were not in much better, the nice belt he'd been wearing gone. The fine linen was riddled with small round burn holes, echoed by the actual marks on his skin beneath. His torso was marked with stripes from a whip or something like that while his arms looked like a tally board. Tony's entire face bore evidence of the punch to the nose and split lip and bitten tongue, his beard and the top half of his chest a ruddy colour. His hair. Plastered to his head. Blood. Sweat. Grease making it limp and awful looking.
"Steve," Carol said gently. "We're here."
The back of the jet opened throwing natural light on Tony washing him out even more. He stood, keeping the man close to his chest as he hurried passed the emergency workers to the ER where he set Tony on a bed and then was herded out of the way while people worked.