Hey!
So, I got this pair (flipped coin?) of prompts some weeks back and I've been letting them percolate in my thoughts, seeing what, if anything, my mind decided to come up with.
Last week, it finally decided to grace me with an answer and I got a whole three paragraphs typed out before Family Situation happened and I spent the next week house-sitting out of town (and I have discovered that when it comes to writing a story, I *hate* laptops. I am apparently a desktop writer; gotta love the irony there).
The prompts are as follows:
from AniAuthor: I have an suggestion if your up for it you don't have to do it. the rouge Avengers are surprised and angry that tony buys Peter rhodey vision and his team apart from natasha and tchalla very expensive lavish gifts. Upgrades thier suits to nanotech. But when it comes to them he gives them nothing they are angry and gey especially angry when tony left them nothing in his will.
And from parhom1991: What if you do the opposite? Make suits for them using the same technologies, after all, Thanos is more important and even such fighters are needed. But make a "kill switch". In the series about the Winter Soldier and the Falcon, there is an absolutely logical and truthful scene: when the Wakandans turn off Bucky's prosthesis. An absolutely logical decision. Same here: give costumes. But when they try to do something stupid, turn it off.
I didn't do AniAuthor's because there are a few of those already written, and done much better than I could, but the idea jumpstarted *something* in this brain of mine. Then parhom1991 threw fuel on the ember and I started hearing random phrases that I liked but couldn't quite figure out a good context. Then, out of nowhere, the TV show 'JAG' was showing and I caught a couple of eps and BAM! Context and setting were had.
This honestly isn't remotely what I thought I'd write, but I'm proud of it and I think (hope) it'll be an enjoyable read. So have at it and let me know how I did!
It Takes a Village (to Corral an Idiot)
There was very little that could truly surprise Tony Stark these days.
It wasn't impossible, but his bar was set so ridiculously high that even Loki had given up trying (now he concentrated his efforts on annoying Stark into an ice cream frenzy; he absolutely adored Spidermango, but it was constantly sold out and Stark was one of four people who could keep it on hand. Despite his skill with seiðr, Loki found himself unable to replicate ice cream with any true accuracy. It just didn't taste right. Which meant irritating Stark into giving him the delicious treat as a bribe to 'go the fuck away, Reindeer Games, and leave me alone!' His success rate was higher than he'd initially expected; he was both gleeful and suspicious about this, but the latter wasn't enough to override the former and so the game continued).
So it honestly caught Tony off-guard when Steve Rogers and his Merry Band of Destructive Sycophants actually, genuinely, utterly surprised him.
Admittedly, he'd expected the eventual outcome, but not the break point. Even he didn't think they'd collectively be that stupid.
Of course, given the circumstances, he enjoyed the hell out of the aforementioned surprise as he watched the group be frog-marched in, bewildered and disapproving, from his place in the Witness Chair. He could tell just from the look on Rogers' face that this was going to be good, though he was looking more forward to seeing the expressions and realizations of the Accords Panel and UN members. Way too many of those various panels, committees, and liaisons had refused to believe Tony or even listen to him when he warned about the dangers of allowing the Rogues back into the country with the little supervision they'd been given.
After all, how could he possibly know anything about the group of people he'd housed, fed, clothed, and fought, both against and beside, for lengths of time ranging from several months to multiple years?
Listening to the entire group of them bitch, moan, and blame him for — and he quoted — 'dragging them into this kangaroo court just because he was being petty that they were better at battle tactics' quickly became one of the highlights of his week. And the hearing hadn't officially started yet.
To his left, Tony saw the Spanish representative — one of seven people who'd immediately agreed with him about how bad an idea it was to give the Rogues the amount of power and freedom they'd ended up with — setting up what was clearly a betting book with the liaison from Peru.
In less than a minute, the entirety of South America had joined it, and several European reps were watching with great interest, as was South Africa and Egypt.
Huh.
Well, if nothing else, this was unlikely to be boring.
Especially since Tony didn't know why he was here. To his knowledge, the most recent (and third) mission they'd done, rescuing downtown Chicago from a swarm (horde?) of Doomboots, had gone off without any major problems, Rogers' continued — and illegal, thank you — attempts to give Tony orders notwithstanding. Since Tony was officially on the team, and thus, under the command, of one James Rhodes, War Machine, in battle, he had no problem ignoring the dipshit, and he was also keeping track of every incident.
Fine print could be a beautiful thing, when used properly.
(the argument against placing not just Tony but the entire roster under Rogers' sole leadership had been won by virtue of Tony simply walking out of the meeting and going back to New York when the French rep had insisted on it, at what was very likely someone's urging (strangely, Tony had yet to determine who was so adamant about that, which was concerning for several reasons). As per usual for his worldview, Rogers had demanded full and total control of the group, utterly ignoring the existence of three teams, which had been created because having that many people under the command of one person, running the types of specialized missions the Defenders did, was foolhardy at best, and every military in the world agreed. It had taken four lawyers and a notarized letter refusing such action, signed by all nineteen members of the Defenders, to stop that particular bit of idiocy in its tracks, though the French had managed to give Rogers leadership of Romanova, Wilson, and Barton; Maximoff had been executed in Wakanda for assaulting one of the Dora Milaje. In a weird coincidence, the Rogues had turned themselves in peaceably a week later.)
Still, it had taken a literal cadre of high-ranking military officers, from every branch and several countries, to explain to the UN Accords Panel that yes, a man flying above the battle would have a much clearer and more accurate gauge as to a) how said battle was proceeding and b) what orders needed to be changed based on the aforementioned gauge of progress, since c) anyone on the ground was going to be at a disadvantage due to their location. This wasn't a slight or insult to the ground soldiers; it was simple logic.
Which took six long days for the Panel to accept.
The only advantage to that bit of stupidity was the fact that it gave Tony, Rhodes, and the other fliers enough time to marshal their arguments and, ultimately, flat-out refuse to submit themselves to Rogers' orders. James Rhodes not only had more than twenty years of training and experience than Rogers, he also had an extremely high mission success rate, and the Defenders trusted him implicitly. Rogers had, of course, thrown a tantrum, but the fact was, he was an untrained, inexperienced failure as a strategist (which the Rogues were apparently oblivious to, something that baffled most people). This also contributed and in the end, the Defenders had prevailed.
Not that it stopped the man from continuing to attempt to take total command on joint missions, mind, but the group had no concerns about ignoring his orders, because they were legally protected, and JARVIS was keeping track of that as well. When the Rogues were finally put into prison for violating multiple conditions of their Accords contracts, Tony was going to lead the charge — and he was going to be so prepared, the organizers behind D-Day would be impressed.
Which brought Tony back to his question: why the hell was he here? He and Rhodey had taken care of herding the bots to the northern outskirts of the city to prevent both mass property destruction and casualties; Rogers and his group had done a solid job in taking out the bots that were either low-flying or on the ground; Jess, Luke, and Danny had ensured that there was almost no structural damage; and Peter had liaised between the Defenders and Rogers' team to set up perimeters and herd civilians out to safety. So that was all fine, and so far as he knew, each team's post-mission debriefing had gone well.
But this was clearly some sort of disciplinary hearing, and Tony was concerned because all he'd gotten was a summons to appear — and he was the only one, other than the Rogues, which meant whatever was happening was specific to him.
And given the fact that three of the higher-ranked Accords officials, not to mention several of the UN representatives, hated him, he was . . . wary — no. No, he was nervous. He was good at politicking when need be, and he knew he hadn't done anything wrong. But as was often the case with politics, one did not always have to commit a wrongdoing to be found guilty and punished for something. And for reasons that escaped everyone, the Rogues still had a lot of support — Rogers in particular. So yeah, Tony was nervous and concerned and mentally preparing escape routes if it became necessary.
Then his team slipped in just before the doors were sealed, giving him the signal to indicate they were there for both support and protection, if need be, and he relaxed a smidge. Maybe even a soupçon.
The sound of a gavel striking wood yanked his attention back to the assembled panel and he swallowed, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Wilson looked worried, but he was the only one. The other three looked angry (guess), calculating (guess again), or disapproving and disappointed (no, seriously: guess).
"This hearing is now called to order," Gregori Dubrinsky announced, his elegant accent giving the words a certain gravitas that made everything suddenly seem a little more real. Still, Tony zoned out as the spiel given before the official start of every UN hearing ever was given, instead choosing to study the Accords reps in an effort to figure out what the hell was going on.
The first thing he really registered was the obvious anticipation several of them were feeling. It was positively sparking in the air around them, which was a touch concerning. On the other hand, none of them fell in the 'hate Tony Stark' camp, so . . . since he hadn't done anything wrong, so far as he knew, maybe this wasn't about him?
He could hear Romanova making a snide comment about his ego as the thought tapered off and mentally scowled.
He really needed to get that woman out of his head.
"—lain how the program you installed in your weapons works, Dr. Stark?"
Huh?
Oh, they were addressing hi—wait. Wait. Wait a minute.
The program . . . oh. Ohohohohoh.
REALLY?!
Oh, this? This was pure comedy gold. Had those morons finally managed to activate the kill-switch he'd installed — at the Accords Panel's request, written into the contracts every team member had signed — in each weapon he made for the US-based teams?
Including Rogers' bunch.
Well. He'd better be polite and answer the man. Wouldn't want to leave his audience hanging, now would he?
"Of course, Chairman Dubrinsky," he replied, straightening in his seat and giving what appeared to be his full attention to the head of the Accords Panel. But in reality, half his focus was on the Rogues, because like hell he was missing a second of their reactions (he wouldn't know until later that his Rhodeybear was recording it for him, and so was Peter. The resulting montage deserved an Oscar for Best Picture). "Per this panel's request, when the Accords were finalized just prior to ratification, I created an advanced User Interface and installed it in every weapon that I made for the Defenders and anyone else I was strongly encouraged to provide weaponry to."
His snub of the Rogues was deliberate and he greatly enjoyed watching them fume. From the looks of things, all four of them were puffed up with outrage and it likely wouldn't take much more for either Rogers or Barton to lose their temper and burst out with accusations, justifications, and (knowing Barton), offensive language. He took a few seconds to debate the pros and cons of pushing things and decided to ease off a bit. Dubrinsky did not appreciate shenanigans in a professional setting and tended to react badly when they happened. While Tony wasn't against that in theory, he had a golden opportunity to let them screw themselves over without any effort from him, and also without drawing any negative attention to himself.
That had the added plus of meaning that no legitimate blame could be placed on him, though there would doubtless be some weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth (seriously; why France had such admiration of Rogers was still a giant mystery, and he'd had JARVIS, FRIDAY, and himself all looking into the matter, but found nothing. He was beginning to wonder if Henri Andou really was nothing but a fanboy. But he digressed).
"The function of this program is to analyze a battle based on the user's position and determine patterns," he began, reciting this information for about the 58th time. "Those include enemy positions, attack plans, and patterns; optimal firing routes for the user; both potential and probable damage to enemies, allies, and civilians; and the ability to prevent the weapon from working if the program determines that the user's intended action will cause more damage than was deemed acceptable by this Panel when another, less harmful option is available. There is also a warning alert patched through the user's comm to let them know they need to pause and adjust their aim."
Silence reigned for a good minute while Tony fought off a smug smile; all four of the Rogues were absolutely gobsmacked and it was both hilarious and gratifying to see, though he knew full well that as soon as he was allowed to speak, Rogers was going to start mouthing off about Ultron and Tony's inability to build a trustworthy AI, because he was too ignorant to even begin to comprehend the difference between UI and AI, and how could the Panel be so reckless, etcetera and so forth.
God, he was getting a headache just from imaging the coming confrontation.
Dubrinsky suddenly cleared his throat, breaking the tense atmosphere, and said, "Thank you, Dr. Stark. If everyone will direct their attention to the screen, we'll show you one user's data from the last mission Mr. Rogers and his team participated in."
He gestured and one of his minions turned on a screen that was easily twice the size of a standard cinema version, and Tony bit down another smile. When the Panel had first come up with the idea of a UI for his weapons, Tony had strongly suggested that they do everything possible to make sure the council room's equipment wasn't his. That way, nobody could claim that Tony had biased things or hacked them — well, more than they would, anyway. That kind of accusation was part and parcel of being Tony Stark. But there was no reason to give them more ammunition.
That meant, among other things, that everything would be turned on or activated by hand, and any and all data from the UI went directly to a secure server built and maintained solely by the UN, with very select people given access and the codes changing every seven hours. Tony never saw the data or had access to it, and had no way to get it without spending a good chunk of his day hacking the system. He could do it, sure, but there was no reason to. If he or anyone on the three Defenders' teams messed up or caused that failsafe to activate, then they wanted to know why, so it didn't happen again. That was the primary point of the Accords: accountability and transparency.
Rogers' team . . . oh, yeah. This was going to be good. Tony would give a lot for some popcorn right now.
An unnatural silence filled the room as they all watched the battle unfold from the perspective of the weapon being used, with the UI program running numbers to the left of the picture. It was extremely disorienting at times and several people looked ill . . . but when the HUD suddenly flashed red, everyone in the room flinched. Then they watched as the program developed what could be described as a sense of urgency and its analysis increased to eight times faster than real-time. They saw it calculate Rogers' plan based on prior usage, the direction he turned, and the flex of his shield arm, followed by the conclusion that his intention to ricochet his shield off the building in front of him so he could take out the four enemy 'bots clustered there would damage more than 70% of the building and likely cause it to collapse, which would result in 88%—100% civilian casualties of those still inside. The initial conclusion hadn't quite faded when a different route was highlighted. It would only take out three bots instead of four, but the only collateral damage would be to an empty car.
Dubrinsky gave the room two minutes to absorb what they'd seen before nodding to the woman manning the sound and video equipment, and she played both the comms chatter and Rogers' body camera. They both started thirty seconds before the program completed its analysis of Rogers' intended action, and this time, the UI's breakdown was played simultaneously with the battle itself.
When the warning alert sounded, the room went dead quiet. Not because the noise was deafening, because it wasn't; in the middle of a battle, that would just be stupid, which Tony most decidedly was not. It was, however, distinctive and impossible to miss, since it overrode the entire comms system, meaning that Rogers could not hear anything else.
Which meant that he knew perfectly well what had happened, and why.
Then the entire room watched him ignore the alert and prepare to throw his shield at his chosen target. And they heard the UI give an angry beep, followed by Rogers' stunned curses as he threw his shield, only for it to sail a bare eight inches before crashing to the ground with a loud clank. War Machine was there immediately, repulsors firing, just before everything was shut off.
An outraged Steve Rogers leapt to his feet and pointed a shaking finger at Tony, who leaned back and arched his eyebrows, because this was going to be good.
For him, that is.
"How could you do that, Tony?!" the blond cried, so furious his voice actually went up a notch. "How could you be so petty? You created another murderbot and it would have killed me if I wasn't Captain America! It almost killed the others! Wasn't Ultron enough?"
And there it was. Cue—
"Ultron, Mr. Rogers?"
That was Alphred Clemmons, from South Africa, and he sounded genuinely confused. His bewilderment confused Rogers and he stopped screaming at Tony in favor of gaping at the man who'd dared interrupt him. His obvious indignation was ignored by Clemmons, who asked, "What does Ultron have to do with anything?"
Well, Tony hadn't expected that, though he rather wished the man hadn't asked. Even though he'd long since been cleared of any involvement in that AI's creation and subsequent actions, Rogers and Company had never believed it and took any chance they could to throw Ultron in his face.
The thing was, it wasn't just because they were looking for Barnes. They genuinely thought that Tony was that incompetent, despite his well-established history of working with, designing, coding, and building computers, computer programs, and UIs and AIs. After Siberia, when he finally got into therapy, that was one of the first things his shrink insisted they tackle. And after a fuckton of internal reflection, Tony had finally been forced to wonder just who they thought actually designed and built their equipment, given their low opinion of him. Pepper, his beautiful, fierce Pepper, had acidly stated that they believed what was convenient to their worldview. So Tony was perfectly capable of designing exploding arrows, Widow Bites, EXO wings, Iron Man suits, and FRIDAY (when they wanted to use her, at least), but somehow, he was also too stupid to build a fifth working UI, which was what Ultron would have been had he actually been able to finish the program.
Tony hadn't thought his opinion of them could get any lower, but then, he was often wrong about people.
While his mind was wandering, Rogers had geared up for a rant.
Tony settled in for the show. There was no point in getting excited; nobody would get to speak until the man was done pontificating, and there was no telling how long that would take (really, would it be gauche for him to ask for a bag of popcorn?)
"Tony thinks he means well, but he has an established history of creating dangerous programs he can't control," Rogers earnestly told Clemmons, looking so genuine that it caught Tony by surprise, though it shouldn't have. But he kept forgetting that despite his loud declarations of hating PR and his well-known loathing of being 'a dancing monkey', the man had been one of the aforementioned monkeys for several months. And, as a war bond salesman, he'd been trained to sell and had been fairly good at it . . . which meant he knew how to use his facial expressions, voice, and body language to garner sympathy or patriotic fervor or even guilt. He also possessed a terrifying ability to speak with complete belief in himself, utterly convinced of his own righteousness and able to make you believe it, too.
So Tony was expecting Clemmons to go along with him, because as much as he despised Steve Rogers, the man was good at swaying people to his version of 'truth'.
"How?" Clemmons asked curiously.
Tony's brain went blue-screen.
So did Rogers'.
"I — I don't — what?" he spluttered, jaw slack as he stared at the other man, who looked unruffled.
"It's a simple question," Clemmons said calmly, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "You stated that Dr. Stark isn't qualified to design, program, or build a computer program because he 'has an established history of creating dangerous programs he can't control'. Those are your exact words, Mr. Rogers. You also cited Ultron as your precedent. Since you're so knowledgeable, I am asking you to explain exactly how Dr. Stark created the dark entity who named itself Ultron."
Sixty-eight seconds of dead silence followed this pronouncement before Rogers cleared his throat and said, "He was messing around with the scepter and playing with a program he didn't tell anyone about because he knew it was dangerous, and his carelessness made Ultron."
This time, the silence lasted one hundred and forty-five seconds (sometimes Tony really hated his math skills).
"That doesn't answer my question, Mr. Rogers," Clemmons finally said, his expression inscrutable. "I asked you how, specifically, Dr. Stark created Ultron. What was the base programming code?"
Rogers blinked, mouthed wordlessly a few times, then looked at Romanova, clearly seeking help, only for Clemmons to cut off that avenue of escape. "I am asking you, Mr. Rogers. You are the one who declared that Dr. Stark is at fault for creating Ultron, and thus, not qualified to build the program we just saw, and I am asking you to explain your reasoning. Ms. Romanova is not the one who said it, so she will not be the one to answer. That responsibility is yours."
Again, Rogers foundered in his confusion, but only for a few seconds before his face set in the mulish expression Tony hated with a passion. "He made a murderbot and programmed it to destroy all of humanity, then tried to backtrack and say it was supposed to be a 'shield around the world'. It failed because he's careless and reckless and thinks he knows better than anybody else."
He sneered the last sentence and turned his glare on Tony, who merely blinked back at him. As surprising as he found it, this wasn't actually about him, so like hell was he going to interrupt whatever point Clemmons was trying to make.
"So, you cannot explain what happened or why," Clemmons summed up. That got Rogers' attention and his head jerked back to the Accords rep, eyes wide with indignation. He had no chance to voice his outrage, though; Clemmons easily headed that off at the pass and Tony hadn't been this entertained since . . . probably since that Senate hearing where he'd embarrassed not just Hammer, but also Stern. Good times. "Do you know what an algorithm is, Mr. Rogers? How coding works and what it does? Do you know what an AI is?" He stopped again and waited, looking at Rogers with a completely emotionless face but giving him ample opportunity to answer.
When the unbroken silence finally embarrassed even Rogers, Clemmons took a deep breath. "Well, since it's clear that have no knowledge or understanding of what you speak, Mr. Rogers, permit me to educate you. When the Ultron event happened, two separate investigations were launched. Doctor Stark cooperated fully with both of them and provided verbal evidence and testimony, along with video and audio records, several instances of eyewitness testimony, and anything else that was requested. At the conclusion of the direct inquest into him and his actions regarding Ultron, Doctor Stark was found to be completely innocent of any wrongdoing."
Rogers' face turned so red so fast, Tony was almost worried his head was about to explode. And that would just be messy. And gross.
But before he could actually explode, Clemmons continued his explanation. "Among other things, we have video and eyewitness testimony that you, Mr. Rogers, ordered him and Doctor Banner to study the scepter. Therefore, you hold the responsibility for everything that followed, as the direct order was yours and yours alone. We also witnessed the alien Thor assenting to their inspection of the alien device, along with a total lack of any warnings about possible dangers, or suggestions to protect themselves from any effects they might experience. You were also present during that conversation and did not counter your command to study the scepter, so that responsibility also falls on you. And finally, we have video evidence and multiple people verifying that Doctors Stark and Banner were upstairs at the party, which you and your team were also attending, when Ultron came online."
Clemmons paused and watched impassively as Rogers darkened to purple with a rage so intense, he couldn't form words.
"In other words, Mr. Rogers, not only are Doctors Stark and Banner not responsible for the creation of Ultron, but the ultimate responsibility falls on you. And because of that investigation and review, we asked Doctor Stark to demonstrate his abilities on a smaller scale so we, the Accords Panel, could be assured that the final product was what we wanted. At his request, Doctor Stark did all the programming and coding with three members of the Panel present, a high-ranking member of several military branches and countries, and another coding expert, selected by the Panel, to verify his progress. This was due not to a lack of trust in him or his abilities, but rather to ensure that no one could later claim that he had biased the program in his favor. He wanted to guarantee that what we asked him to build fulfilled the objectives of the Accords: accountability and transparency."
The blood drained from the blonde's face so quickly, he actually collapsed back in his seat, which jolted Tony out of his own shock at hearing himself being so steadfastly defended by a truly impartial third party. He wasn't sure he'd ever actually experienced that, at least not in his presence, and it was . . . nice. Jarring, sure, and shocking, and completely unexpected. But nice.
Vindicating.
"Well said, Representative Clemmons," Dubrinsky said, breaking the stunned silence and pulling the room's attention back to him. "And to answer your initial . . . question . . . Mr. Rogers: yes. This is legitimate. We know the UI works because we tested it extensively before giving Doctor Stark the go-ahead to implement it. It has also been used on other missions, not just yours, so no, this is not a witch hunt. This hearing was called because all four members of your team had your weapons deactivated in that battle, Mr. Rogers. And that is a serious problem, because the collated data clearly shows that none of you seem to be cognizant of the damage you can and will cause. You care only about eliminating the enemy. And yes, that is the ultimate objective," he said sternly, cutting of Barton's angry protest before he could get more than a word out. "But the other three teams manage to do so without needlessly harming civilians or unnecessarily destroying buildings and roads in the process. The fact that not one, but all of you, lack that awareness is alarming, but you all also deliberately ignored the warning designed to stop you. And that means that this Council must now take the first disciplinary action against you, hence the reason this hearing was called."
A cacophony of protests broke out from the Rogues and Tony was finally unable to hold back his smile. He knew damn good and well that the fools hadn't read their Accords contracts, because they never read anything (not even Romanova, which was weird, as she, at least, was intelligent enough to know how stupid that was. Then again, her ego made his look like it wasn't trying), so this entire thing, from the UI to the disciplinary steps, was coming as a complete shock to them.
Popcorn. He deserved popcorn.
His face impassive, Dubrinsky simply let the group shout themselves out . . . until it reached five minutes and showed no signs of slowing down. A giant sigh came from the Mongolian rep, causing the Council Leader to pause instead of reaching for his gavel, and she got to her feet and walked over to the group of Rogues. Two tables away, she slowed down and grabbed a pitcher of water, which she promptly threw all over them.
Shocked silence filled the room as everyone gawked at her, broken when America's Julian West burst out laughing. Several others followed suit, but Dubrinsky refused to let the room descend into hysterics and loudly banged his gavel. It worked and the laughter quickly died down, while Sayana Baatar calmly walked to her table, putting the empty pitcher back as she went. That almost set off Juana Sanchez from Peru, but she managed to keep a straight face and Dubrinsky had everyone's attention soon after. Showing why he was the first elected Chairman of the Accords Panel, he completely ignored the dripping wet team of outraged would-be heroes and kept right on with his original train of thought.
"Per the clause in your Accords contracts, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanova, Clint Barton, and Sam Wilson are all hereby issued their first official strike a—"
"Clause?" Barton cut in, finally unable to control his temper or his tongue. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Once more, stunned silence fell and the eyes of the room fell on the Rogues. Even Dubrinsky was startled, and that was a difficult feat to achieve.
"I . . . it's part of Section Four, the Training and Discipline portion of your contract," he said slowly, eyeing Barton like he was a particularly revolting species of cockroach. "By signing, you agreed to submit yourselves to this surveillance in every battle, and you also accepted the stipulated levels of disciplinary action, should it be warranted."
"I didn't agree to anything," Barton snapped back, coming to his feet with an aggression that had Security quickly moving to his position. "Why the hell would I agree to let some machine, especially one made by Stark, tell me what to do in a battle?"
Okay, screw the popcorn. There needed to be a drinking game for the increasing number — and variety — of silences this group kept causing. But Tony also really wanted popcorn; he'd made himself hungry thinking about it so many times.
"You — are you telling this Council that you signed a legally-binding contract without reading it in its entirety?" Alfonso Suarez demanded, sounding almost hysterical, and Barton threw him a quick, contemptuous look but didn't bother to answer before turning back to Dubrinsky.
And was immediately met with a dark, foreboding look.
"Representative Suarez asked you a question, Mr. Barton. Are you saying that you signed your Accords contract without being fully and completely aware of its contents?"
"No," Barton sneered, rocking back on his heels. "I'm saying it ain't in there, because no one would be stupid enough to think that a machine is better than a person in deciding how a battle goes, and even if there were, it wouldn't be done by Stark. He doesn't have a clue how to plan battles or be a team player. Why do you think he isn't with us now?"
The other three members of his team nodded in fervent agreement with his words, which once again silenced the room.
This one was short-lived, broken when Henri Andou from France slowly got to his feet and made his way to the table where Sokovia, Nigeria, and Russia were seated. Confused murmurs followed him, though he didn't say a word; he simply stopped in front of the rep from Sokovia and let his arms fall to his sides while giving her a single, solemn nod. In response, she picked up the pitcher of water, filled her glass, and calmly threw it in his face. Then she put the glass down, looked him straight in eyes, and said, "I told you so."
Andou blew out a gusty sigh and nodded. "Yes, you did," he agreed. "I apologize."
And with that, he just . . . turned around and went back to his chair.
The astonished eyes of the entire room followed him, though out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Peter clamping a hand over Jessica's mouth to keep her from laughing out loud. He was a touch envious, as he himself was in need of the same, but even backhanded vindication like that was a balm to his wounded soul. Like the people of Sokovia, Nigeria, and Russia, Tony had argued until he was blue in the face that Rogers needed restrictions until he'd proven he'd learned some much-needed lessons about leadership, command, and accountability, and under no circumstances should he be allowed to remain a team leader until he'd officially earned the Council's trust and showed he was worthy of the position.
Andou had told every single of them to fuck off (politely, because he was French, but still).
So seeing him acknowledging his mistake and accepting some form of punishment was gratifying, even if Tony privately felt he deserved the same chance, maybe with a repulsor to the groin.
A throat being cleared pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts and Tony looked back to Dubrinksy, absently noting that all four Rogues now had a security guard standing behind them . . . and their weapons were drawn, though not yet aimed and primed. But Tony would bet half his personal fortune that only Romanova was aware it; Barton was too pissed off to be that aware of his surroundings and Rogers and Wilson were both oblivious to anything that wasn't a) in front of their face and b) what they wanted to see/hear/acknowledge.
Still, at least the room's occupants had some protection should the group try to escape the consequences of their actions again.
"Can any of you tell me the three conditions for combat eligibility as lined out in your contract?" Dubrinksy asked, unable to keep the disappointment from his face when he gave them two minutes, only to receive not a single word from any of them, though it was obvious the only reason Rogers kept his mouth shut was Romanova's hand wrapped around his wrist. His expression was quickly replaced by grim resolve, however, and his entire countenance darkened when it became clear he would not receive any answers.
"Very well," he intoned, staring all four of them into submission through the undeniable weight of his authority. "Since you have all admitted to not reading your Accords contract before signing it — and thus, indicating agreement with the whole of the contract — I hereby activate the 'Final Notice' clause. As of this moment, you are officially restricted to quarters unless you are in specific training in battle tactics, during which you will be supervised by a team chosen by this Council, or a remedial Accords session, wherein you will learn every single line of your contracts. You will not take part in any missions or team training exercises until this Council agrees that you can be trusted to adhere to the tenants that form the basis of the Accords: accountability, transparency, and trustworthiness. Should you fail to meet those standards by the end of a period of one year, your contracts will be voided, which will also void your pardons, and you will be arrested, charged, and tried for the crimes your pardons and contracts have, thus far, held in abeyance."
He'd barely finished when the group was shouting protests, though Rogers proved his leadership over them when a single hand gesture silenced them.
And then, to the shock of everyone but the people who knew him or had paid an ounce of attention to his antics over the years, he turned to Tony.
"How can you be so petty and childish, Tony?" he chided, looking and sounding exactly like every parent of a toddler at least once in their lives — and shocking the room into silence again. Tony absently wondered if there was a world record for consecutive 'stunned silences caused' even as he leaned back and met Rogers' gaze, unwilling to look away because the dipshit would take that to mean he'd 'won' and that was a headache Tony didn't need. "Did you really have to drag all these people into your game to prove that you're in charge? I'm sorry I couldn't let you back on the team, but this is why. You aren't a team player and you refuse to obey people who are better than you. But acting like you actually know how to lead a team is exactly why I can't trust you. You're just too childish and your ego is too big to work with."
The silence this time was so heavy, it cracked the marble floor, with everyone in the room staring at Rogers in everything from shock to disbelief to contempt to horror.
Tony scoffed, and Rogers almost lost his mind at the clear disdain.
He didn't bother offering any rebuttal to that steaming pile of bullshit and instead turned to meet Dubrinksy's eyes. "I'll lock the Compound down before I leave—" he began, only to be gently interrupted.
"That won't be necessary, Dr. Stark. They'll be moved immediately into our restricted barracks in Hungary. That way, you don't have to bother with them, and we can ensure they won't run off and destroy a major city or small country just to prove they can," Dubrinsky told him, easily ignoring the choked sounds of outrage coming from the toddlers' — sorry, the Rogues' — table. "I will ask you to lock their weapons and equipment in Training Mode, however, since that's clearly a precaution we'll need to take. Also, feel free to place their belongings in storage if you wish, or send them to us. They'll be away for at least one year, so there is no reason for you to waste your money or space if there are other things you can use it for. Should we need to renegotiate a housing contract with you, we'll reach out then."
"Sounds good to me, Sir. Thank you," Tony replied. Once again, Rogers started to spe—well, yell, something, and once again, Romanova stopped him. She was glaring at Tony because she'd honestly expected him to stop the proceedings at some point prior to the 'discipline' part of the proceedings, but she was also smart enough to know that any control he might have had over things was well and truly gone now. Like her and her teammates, Tony was under the direct command of the Accords Panel when it came to superheroing, and he was making no effort to change that. She might be a sociopathic narcissist, but she wasn't actually stupid, and knew that haranguing Tony now would only hurt her cause. Not when he was willingly submitting himself to the Panel's authority, confirmed by the final bang of Dubrinsky's gavel as he dismissed the Council.
Unlike Rogers, who genuinely thought Tony was not just the ringmaster, but also the circus, the monkeys, the clowns, and the magician.
Well, good for him. Thanks to their own idiocy, the Rogues were finally out of Tony's house, hair, and life, at least for the next year. And he would not be remotely surprised if at least two of them failed out before then (his bet was on Barton and Rogers, and he made a mental note to open a betting book with the Defenders; Sokovia's capital could use the extra funds). In the meantime, he would take the win.
And yes, he took a deeply vindictive pleasure in snubbing the bunch of whiny, backstabbing imbeciles one last time.
He didn't even glance in the Rogues' direction as he left the Witness Chair and made his way to his team. Along the way, he exchanged easy nods with his allies and the odd neutral party, while a few shame-filled looks were sent his way from those who either disliked him personally and/or disagreed with his stance on the Rogues. Those he ignored, because if those ignorant assholes couldn't be adult enough to verbally apologize, and do it to his face, then they could start losing allies and flailing around in future Council sessions.
Taking their cue from him, not a single one of the Defenders gave the Rogues a second of direct attention, something that amused Tony to no end, and he grinned as he reached Rhodes, accepting his clap to the shoulder before he had an excited Spiderling wrapped around him in a tight hug.
And without a single look, word, or gesture, the Defenders of the Earth left the Rogue Avengers behind them . . . broken, confused, lost, and disgraced.
Not that they ever understood that, of course. None of them had enough self-awareness to recognize their own fault and hubris. But for that very reason, from that day forward, Tony and everything that came with him were forever out of their reach.
And just as Rogers had decreed when Tony had tried to warn him about the impending alien invasion, the Rogues stayed together. They blamed everyone but themselves together. And, ultimately, they failed together.
The world moved on, and quickly forgot about them. And when the invasion came, the world came together and won. When it was over, the Rogues saw the Defenders triumph.
But not together. In one last delicious triumph for everyone they had hurt, the cozy togetherness of Steve Rogers' team was shattered with their final Accords failure and each of them was tried, convicted, and imprisoned separately. For the rest of their lives, the Rogues would be alone.
And they watched Tony Stark and his growing family take first the world, then the universe, by storm.
Because they grew and stayed together.
~~~
fin