Title: floating point exception

Summary: Tony, after the Civil War (Post CA:CW)

Notes: Sorry about the lack of posting.

Chapter 2: Automated test cases

When a developer finished a piece of code, they should completed automated testing that can be run against their application to make sure it is working correctly or if there has been another change the way this piece is working.

A test failing is the earliest warning that something is wrong.

From: avengerslegateam

CC: avengersprteam

We completed Phase 1. Security has dealt with the logistics of the situation, but it has been achieved.

PR team is beginning on Phase 2 as we speak.

Rhodey sweating through his first work out of the day greets Tony when he slinks into the compound. He's faithfully upgraded to the latest exoskeleton that had been left on his dresser, just like he does every Monday of the week these days. They have a silence communication happening here between them. JARVIS watches and takes notes, Tony turns those notes into changes, they fabricate a new exoskeleton to help Rhodey walk.

Tony has to take a deep breath in, remembering that Rhodey can't walk with out the exoskeleton. He needs to sit here. Needs to watch. JARVIS' notes are getting sparse, and Tony needs to see the issues up close and personal, so he can fix it. Rhodey deserves that, at the least.

(He deserves more. Deserves better than his best friend who took him into a fight and got him paralyzed, but Tony has never been able to get him to see it before, so he doesn't even try now.

Tony's selfish, and he can't lose another person.)

He pulls up a chair and straddles it, watching Rhodey as he makes his way through the usual exercises. Rhodey's legs buckle fewer times. The familiar soft whine of the calibrating motors isn't audible in this version.

Tony's fingers begin to beat on the top of the chair. They've only tested with regular movement, but his mind races when he contemplates how would the prosthetic work under more intense situations. Like sprinting or a quick change of direction? He would have to check the calibrations they currently have on the motors. Maybe upgrade the chips. See if he can build some predictive programming into the chips. Or make the exoskeleton less manual and more AI related.

He bites his lip at the thought of adding more automation to the exoskeleton. But would people even want that? For their legs? Tony nods to himself silently, because he would, he does in the suit. He just needs to run the numbers. Check with Legal and see where they can reach out to get some focus groups.

Or he could just ask Rhodey, who keeps talking about the support group he goes to. He takes the wheelchair. Says he needs to talk it out with someone who knows the emotions about it. Less focus on fixing the problem. Once, Rhodey could have asked Sam, but Tony tries not to think about that.

(Because once he could have turned to someone else and admitted he didn't know how to fix this. He could have turned to Fury and listened to the rant about fixing problems that didn't need fixing, Pepper's fond speeches about, Tony he just needs someone outside of all this, or St-)

He decides that if people don't like there being programming that leans pretty closely to AI level stuff, there has been that idea around the robot butlers that the A&D kids keep pitching around. It's on the idea wall in New York somewhere. Tony can get access to the designs on the server.

He'll need to tell FRIDAY. He needs schematics, a couple of context diagrams, white papers - and there is sudden movement from Rhodey's direction.

Tony tenses, ready to shove the chair down to get across the room to the bars when his gaze snaps upwards to catch a glimpse of Rhodey waving his hand in his face. There is a wicked grin across his lips as Rhodey lets go of the bars. Tony, half sitting half standing, lands in the chair with an audible thump. Rhodey's steps are smooth as he moves. There is no hesitation during his move from the bars to the couch beside Tony's borrowed chair.

Tony watches, stolen heart in his throat, the whole way. It only settles when Rhodey sinks into the couch, proud grin across his face.

"You do good work Mr. Stank."

Tony's mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. "How…" He can't get any more past the lump in his throat.

"Last night," Rhodey shrugs as he reaches for the stack of water bottles on the coffee table. "Vision kept a close eye on me while I tried. Then he deemed me good enough to move without the cane or the wheelchair."

Tony scans the room and doesn't see either of them nearby. Oh. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Rhodey finishes taking a swig of water. His face is covered with sweat, but not as much as usual. Tony's fingers itch to grab the tablet and see the data from the exoskeleton. They can't be done. Not yet. Not if Rhodey is still sweating from the effort of simply walking across a room. "I wanted to show you when it was finished and not a work in progress." He grins. "Just like you and your toys."

There is a suit of armor in the lab, grey and gunmetal and big. It's got better firepower, turns on a goddamn dime, and can only be used by James Rhodes. It's almost done, but Tony's not sharing it until Rhodey asks. Until he wants it. He doesn't want to overstep. He's not sure if this is the end of War Machine or if his friend will hand it over to someone else.

He gets it. Gets it so much that his heart is fluttering out of control. He can't open his mouth to say it though. So he just nods, silent as he watches.

Rhodey rolls his shoulders before continuing, "You gotta stop punishing Vision for this you know. It's no one's fault."

Tony picks up the tablet, fingers smudging the screen as he types. "I have a lot of things to do Rhodey. Just because I don't spend five billion hours in the same room as my baby android, doesn't mean I blame him."

"Not your fault either Tones."

Tony snorts as FRIDAY pulls the data up and sketches it into a line graph to show pain levels, movement speed, and exoskeleton adjustments made prior and post movement. She quietly adds historical data in another tab. "Thanks for that sweet pea. I'm good." He circles the top 3 pain spikes, and FRIDAY displays the video clips for each for him in a half screen.

Rhodey takes longer strides in the video and the leg adjusts fine, however the movement causes a wince. Tony restarts and zooms in. The leg jerks into place in the last frame, not easing like it's supposed to.

"Got it boss," FRIDAY voices from the tablet speakers, and Tony knows there is another prototype being tested in a virtual diagnostic downstairs right now.

"What about the - " Tony starts.

"Even the times the exoskeleton's response time was outside 1 second worst case. Adjustments needs to be made for switching direction and compensation for quick movements."

Tony huffs. "You're getting too good at reading my mind Fry."

"Never boss."

He tosses the tablet on the couch. Rhodey is leaning forward, empty bottle absently moving. His eyes are dark, gaze heavy. "What?" Tony says, a sharp edge in his tone. He swallows back anything else, because Rhodey doesn't deserve this. He won't hurt him any more than he already has.

"So you're either sleeping around, or you sleep somewhere else," Rhodey observes.

Tony looks out the window at the second half of the statement. He can't lie to Rhodey. Can't do it.

"Or maybe not sleeping at all," Rhodey adds, wonder in his voice. "Buddy, you have to get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Tony waves the commend away as he stands. "Now what about you? What are you feeling like for breakfast?"

Rhodey eyes him for a moment before reaching out. Tony grips his hand and hauls Rhodey up. "I'm cooking this time though. You burn water."

"My coffee tastes just fine."

"It's Starbucks level Tony. Starbucks."

Tony fakes an overly dramatic swoon, hand to the forehead and all. "It's like you are trying to be unnecessarily cruel," he accuses after he straightens.

Rhodey slings a hand over his shoulder. "I got priority one on the give Tony shit list for being the best. And I gotta give anyone who is lower on that list a beat down."

Tony glances over at Rhodey, and their eyes meet. Rhodey quirks his lips. Tony leans his head on Rhodey's shoulder for a beat, then two, then three before pulling away. "Such an asshole."

Rhodey waves as he continues into the kitchen. "Your favorite asshole."

He stands there and watches as Rhodey disappears into the next room. Something in him crumbles and rebuilds in the moments it takes to catch his breath. Something ever so small but vital. He stands there, rumpled suit, aching feet, and wet face until Rhodey yells, "You coming Tony? I need an audience for all this awesome."

Tony goes. "Won't be as good as if we went to visit Julian and got some chiliaquiles. Breakfast nachos. Think of that deliciousness Rhodey!"

From Pepper

How is Rhodey doing? Really doing?

From Tony

Good. Better. He is walking on his own.

From Tony

Making breakfast right now.

From Pepper

He is going to kill you for sending me that video of him singing while making eggs.

From Tony

It was fry

From Tony

I don't control my robots

From Pepper

He's still going to blame you. Loudly.

From Tony

As long as he is loud

From Tony

You should get back to your board meeting. Thanks for checking in. I'll let Rhodey know.

A text comes in while Tony is cleaning up.

(Vision had drifted into the living room while Tony and Rhodey had ate breakfast. He had perched on one of the chairs and watched them for a moment. Clad in slacks, a button down and a vest, he cuts an impressive figure. But Tony sees someone else in his posture, his mannerism, and turns his back to those with a wild grin.

Rhodes's face doesn't give, but he parries with Tony like usual. There is a shift in the other room, and, later, Tony steals a glance after his heart settles to see Vision staring out at the silent training fields.)

Rhodey sees the text from his perch at the bar, coffee mug in hand. "It's Nat," he says, voice even.

Tony finishes the dishes before picking up the phone. He stares at the words lighting up the screen for a while before replying. The silence in the room is only broken by Rhodey taking long pulls of his coffee. He responds, fingers flying before going back to the dishes. He puts them all up, even when he hears the phone buzz again.

The silence in the room fills him to the point of bursting, too much silence, not enough thoughts in his head. The clink of the dishes helps. Moving helps more. Focusing one by one as the dishes get picked up and put away.

When his hands are empty and so is the stack, Tony picks up the phone again. He reads the text and replies. It buzzes back instantly. He responds a few more times, the vibrating sound ringing in his ears, louder with every texts. Then he stops and powers down the phone.

He looks up and both are watching him. "I've been thinking about a change in scenery," Tony says. Rhodey quirks an eyebrow. Vision is expressionless, as he is most days now. "How do you feel about going back to the Tower?"

Tony can't wait as Rhodey contemplates him and the question. He grabs the washcloth and begins scrubbing down the counter. There is a knick in the quartz from when Natasha slammed a knife to keep Bruce from stealing vegetables as she made salsa, eyes smiling enough to match Bruce's actual one on his face. He turns and flips the dish washer on, running his fingers across the ding in the door from when Thor bumped into it.

Once he has every surface, he takes the time to wipe down the fridge's handles. It's to get the handprints off the stainless steel, and he doesn't think about the fact he could be wiping away of Nat's moody periogies by the dozen that is either made in utter silence or quiet humming. He adjusts the magnets Clint uses to display the portraits of the Avengers he got as "fanmail".

"It's a bit too large here," Rhodey muses. "Feels like I am rattling around your old mansion." He takes another sip of coffee.

Tony scans the room for anything else. There is still a grocery list on a legal pad in Wanda's looping script that he has to pick up and wipe under. There are doodles in the margin that Tony skims over.

"Too many ghosts rattling around there," Tony agrees. He crosses the room to the glass table littered with papers, books, and other assorted junk. He shuffles but ultimately leaves the mail with Wilson's D.C. address at the top of the pile.

"Large buildings with no one to fill them are uncomfortable," Vision adds in a soft tone.

Tony can hear Rhodey's chair creak he turns. He scrubs a stain on the table left over from the "we will never allow Tony to cook again" incident from 3 months ago. It won't come out.

Jarvis used to know the answer to how to clean out stains when Tony made them. He would carefully explain every step as Toby watched as oil, fruit juice, scotch just disappeared from shirts or surfaces. Ana would distract him after, with stories about Hungary and the letters she receives from her cousins and nieces and nephews. Tony doesn't remember any of the lessons or stories. He aches where the reactor used to be as he scrubs a little harder. Effort, he does remember, was always something Jarvis emphasized.

"You're right Vision," Rhodey says. "So the Tower?"

"Yeah," Tony replies. His voice comes out weak and reedy. He clears his throat before continuing. "Pack up what you want. We all have rooms at the Tower. I can have movers come whenever you are ready."

Rhodey hands Tony his mug. He takes it and puts it in the sink, carefully washing the ceramic before leaving it on the drying rack. He goes back for the cloth he was using for drying when he catches Rhodey still watching him.

"What?" Tony barks. His shoulders feel like they are sound his ears, tense and aching.

Rhodey opens his mouth, narrows his eyes, and then asks, "You going to pack anything?"

Tony imagines the long walk to his room, and the open doors, the glimpse at the dust collecting, the windows open. All those things he needs to clean up, package away. "I have everything I need at the Tower."

Rhodey shifts, like he is about to do something and Tony takes a deep breath until he can feel his lungs pressing against his ribs, too full and ready to burst. "Okay Tones," Rhodey sighs instead. He slips off the chair and goes towards the stairs.

Tony watches him, noting the move of the cameras as FRIDAY follows him too. "Fry, inform me if he-" he starts.

"I will let you know if Colonel Rhodes needs your help boss," FRIDAY responds, patience clear in her tone. "I have also begun the process of opening the Tower apartments back up to the usual personnel."

Nodding, Tony turns back to the mug and wipes it dry in a few easy movements. He puts it up, carefully trying to keep the noise to a minimum. He turns back to see

"I can find other accommodations if necessary Mr. Stark," Vision says in JARVIS' old voice, a perfect replica of Jarvis' posture when he was deferring to Howard.

"No," Tony bites out. It's rushed, a bit too quick, but Vision tilts his head in a manner that is so very him that Tony can finally breathe. "No," he adds. "Vision come back to the Tower. It's your birthplace after all."

Vision watches him, and sometimes Tony can see the code behind his eyes. The way Vision is running through if/else statements, trying to find the correct action based on the parameters given to him. The databases he is scouring. The code that Tony originally built, high off sleep deprivation and other things.

And then he goes and says things like, "I'm not sure you are comfortable with me being in the same location as you after what happened to Colonel Rhodes." And Tony knows that isn't something he wrote. The empathy.

"No," Tony replies. "No. It's not that. If it was that…" Tony needs a drink or five. He scans the room for Scotch and sees none. "If I was worried you were a threat, you would never be around Rhodey."

Honesty, raw brutal honesty, always makes him want to drink. He goes back and opens the fridge and grabs a beer. It's Clint's brand. Tony only knows because it has a sticky note on it that screams "CLINT'S BEER. DO NOT TOUCH TONY." He's never been good at following directions, especially in the form of sticky notes.

He unscrews the lid and downs the whole thing before coming up for air. Vision is still staring at him when he looks back. "You're a reminder," Tony admits. He spreads his arms, indicating to the room at large. "Rhodey. Rhodey's been around for ages. And yes, the legs, those sting. But you're a reminder of everything."

He gets another beer and chugs it. Vision fills the silence with a faint, "I remind you of your mistakes? Ultron? The Accords?"

"No kiddo," Tony responds darkly. "The Accords. I'll fight for those until my dying breath. We fuck up. We all do. It's what makes us human. But we have to have consequences or we'll become inhuman. And Ultron," he pauses. There are so many things that could be said, should be said, but won't be. "That was an attempt at trying to be more inhuman than I should have. But there is a parallel universe where that program worked. Where we achieved it, and I got to retire and tinker with things like prosthetics and internet chips in your brain, and we never had these issues."

He sighs. "No. You're a reminder of the good times. The Avengers. The dreams we shared, the idea that we could save the planet instead of tearing it apart. The chance that we could right our wrongs."

"It's not you," he says. "It's me. I'm flawed. Hell, everyone knows that. I see the forest and not the trees sometimes, but you're the freaking Amazon to me and all I can see is what I wanted the Accords to be." For us.

Vision is staring at him, but something in his face has eased. Something like understanding in his eyes. "Stay with me buddy. I just got to get over this hurdle. I'll get there eventually. It's just going to take time."

"I'm sorry," Vision utters quietly.

"Not you Viz," Tony responds, as sincere as he gets. "All me."

The sunlight from the open windows gleams off Vision on the unnatural way Tony has adjusted to over time. It took some time, after the relief and childish glee that it worked, that they were alive, wore off, but Tony adjusted. He's good at iterative development, adjusting as the requirements change.

Vision smiles, a small, tiny thing. But it's real. Tony grins back.

From Nat Something

Everyone is out and okay. Thought you would want to know.

From Tony

You shouldn't contact me again on this phone. All Avenger digital channels are being monitored by the UN.

From Nat Something

You and I both know you could get around that if you wanted to.

From Tony

I don't. That was the whole point. Or did you forget about accountability and wiping out the red in our ledgers?

From Nat Something

Just because you are angry about Rhodey doesn't mean you should take it out on me.

From Nat Something

I heard he is walking.

From Tony

FRIDAY has locked you out of all SI and Avengers servers.

From Nat Something

Really Tony?

From Tony

You chose your side Widow. Leave me to pick up the pieces of mine.

From Nat Something

You were going to try and stop them and were going to get hurt. Steve was going to go too far to protect Barnes. I needed to do that so no one would do anything they would regret.

From Nat Something

I chose the middle.

From Nat Something

I just wanted everyone safe.

From Nat Something

I know that's what you want too.

From Tony

I wanted a lot of things

From Tony

I won't come looking for the Cap squad. But if we meet again, I can't help you Nat. You need to make sure they know that. I can't help

From Nat Something

I will.

From Nat Something

Thank you.

Tony is four.

Tony is four, and he has all these ideas in his head, and he can't sketch them out. It's like his brain and his hand can't communicate, and it just makes him so mad. When he tries to explain what he is doing, he doesn't know all the words. He pauses and when his Dad, Mom or even Jarvis try to help fill in the gaps, they are always wrong.

So he sits in his corner of the Jarvis' living room tonight while his Mom, Ana and Jarvis talk. The glance back at him every few words until Jarvis brings out the dominoes, and it becomes a high stakes game of Muggins that turns even the mild tempered Jarvis vicious.

His father sketches, hums and mutters as he works. His scotch glass marks the fine paper he uses for his blueprints. Usually, Tony is sitting beside him, as close as he can to his lap or the table, depending on Dad's mood that day, taking in the designs with wide eyed delight, and listening to the careful explanations or the loud mutters as he slashed through designs and adding notes in the margins.

Tony, by contrast tonight, has parts scattered all around him, half in and out of the box he had stored them in. He has the copper board before him, running the acetone rag across the top. The sheet he printed from Dad's SI printer ("half the size of that old Xerox one!" Howard had boasted) sitting beside him. With his kiddie scissors, he carefully cuts the designed circuit, and fits it on top of the board. He places both on the towel pile beside him. The iron that Ana had set out beside him is pressed to the paper. The table bursts into laughter, and with a clatter of noise covers the hiss the iron makes as he presses.

Howard looks up, briefly, at Tony and nods before turning back to his paper. Tony removes the iron and quickly unplugs it. He dunks the board in his water glass Mom had set aside for him before peeling back the paper. The dark marks on the board aren't as dark has he had expected, so he grabs the sharpie he had gathered from his father's desk a few weeks previous and colors in the lines.

It's hard to get it precisely right, and he knows he has a funny look on his face, because when Mom glances over this time she laughs softly, gathering Ana and Jarvis' attention and quick admiration.

"Just like his father," Maria whispers.

"Less messy," Jarvis counters. Ana quietly smiles as she takes her next domino.

He picks up his fist sized board and heads outside. There is a bottle of ferric chloride he has hidden in the shed near the Jarvis home, along with a mason jar and set of kitchen tongs. He pulls the plastic goggles he gotten from his science kit on his 3rd birthday and straps them around his head before carefully pouring enough of the purid green liquid into the jar before dropping the board inside.

Tony quickly puts the ferric chloride aside before anyone can catch sight of the bottle. It's dark outside, and when Ana looks the window, he waves brightly. She smiles, waves back, before going back to the game.

After a little while, Tony rushes back inside, goggles still on and grabs his glass of water and the bag of baking soda he had asked Ana to give him a day earlier.

"What are you up to Tony?" Mom asks. Her red lips are wide in a teasing smile, and even Dad looks up at that comment.

"An experiment," Tony declares. His new favorite codeword has his mother grinning. She loves his experiments. He comes and explains them all to her, and Dad watches a smile at the edge of his lips, and Tony always thinks, he has to be proud of me. If he actually smiles he is proud of me.

He lingers at the table before she urges him to "finish so I can see what you're doing". Tony trots out, stolen towel under his arm as well. He checks to make sure the towel isn't one of Ana's embroidered ones before placing down the glass and towel on the ground. He grabs the tongs, using them to grab the board one handed while he uses his free hand to rinse the board off onto the towel. The goop sloshes off from the board, which is clear of copper and now the sickly green color of his snot when he is ill, except for the complicated design on the front.

He hides all the evidence with the baking soda poured into the ferric chloride. It foams as he dumps the glass of water dumped into the ferric chloride and then carefully trots to the garage where the trash bags sit, waiting to be taken to the curb later that evening. Tony unties the knot and slips the jar, used baggie and tongs in. He trots back into the house, towel under his arm, glass and board clutched tightly in his hands. Jarvis watches him as he places the glass carefully in the dishwasher and towel in the box.

Afterwards, he perches back in his seat. He grabs the rag from before and scrubs the design down until it gleams of copper instead of the black marker. He studies his multi-colored lego prototype before nodding to himself. The design matches.

He turns to his father, scotch refreshed and contemplating this scribbles with a notes with a smirk of satisfaction. "Dad?"

The chatter at the table quiets. The silence is only broken by the click of dominoes on the table. Click click. Pause. Click click. Pause.

"Yes?" Howard says in his usual distracted manner.

Tony contemplates the green board for a moment before turning his gaze back to his father. He can see Mom watching the scene intently. Her eyes are on both of them, dominoes abandoned completely, while Jarvis and Ana consulting over the unfinished game.

"Can I use the drill in your lab?" Tony asks.

Dad leans down and scribbles another note. "What do you need a drill for Tony?" he queries to his paper.

Tony straightens. "I need to drill holes into my circuit board to see if it works."

Even Ana and Jarvis turn to look at him. He fidgets with with board. Maria is watching him with a soft smile. "I think you can use it for your miniaturized circuit board design."

Dad had been, for a long time, moaning about the inability of his team to catch up to Intel's 8008 integrated chip. He had been over sketches upon sketches. He had ripped apart televisions, the first personalized computer, the Datapoint 2200, but nothing had been done.

Dad puts his glass down. "Tony, you've created a board with some markings on it. That doesn't mean it's a working circuit board." He is smiling, but it's not the one he wants and they coo at how he looks just like his father. The one he uses in interviews, or at the adult parties when he carries Tony around. Not the one he uses with Aunt Peggy or Uncle Daniel or Jarvis or Ana or even Mom.

He only has the vaguest grasp of what a computer is. It takes in inputs and returns answers. Like he had typed 1+1 and it had returned 2. He had typed the beginning to his favorite book one letter at a time, and the computer had displayed it on the screen. His father had allowed him to play with the the Datapoint before he had systematically taken the computer apart. The circuit board, in 1973, had been longer than his arm. He remembers staring at it and seeing the simple lines that connected the processor together, all spaced out in wide copper bands. It had to be easy to make it smaller.

So he had taken his legos and replicated the design one day. He had slowly narrowed it, using smaller and smaller blocks until he had taken the size down from his arm to his fist.

The thing about circuit boards is that they are easy . They are just connectors. Wires in flat copper lines that connect one thing to another, a battery to a light. The ram and the microprocessor for a computer.

"Just try it," Tony replies as he holds out his board. "I just need the holes, the soldering for the wires to put the battery and the light in."

Dad takes the board and inspects it, lips melting into a frown. "Tony if this doesn't work, I'm going to be very angry you bothered me with this."

Mom hisses at him, quietly furious. " Howard! "

He turns back to her, "Tony knows he isn't supposed to annoy me when I am working." Tony does know. He also knows his board will work.

"Just try it Dad," he urges.

His mother stands and whispers something in Dad's ear. Dad's frown deepens. "Okay, okay you harpy," Dad bites out as he stands. "I'll do it."

Tony follows as his dad leaves the cozy Jarvis home. They do into the lab, gleaming metal everywhere, tools strung across every surface. Dad makes quick work of drilling the holes, soldering the battery holder and five multicolored lights in place. He hands it back to Tony to slide the quarter sized battery into place.

All five bulbs light up.

"How did you come up with?" Dad says as he takes the board from Tony. Tony shrugs as his father turns it over.

"I just made it smaller. I think you could put another circuit on the other side and use both sides."

"What did you model it after?"

Tony turns to the Datapoint and points. Dad follows his finger the disassembled computer. "You know I've been looking in how to do this for a year?"

Tony shrugs. "I just wanted to see if I could make it smaller."

(Tony's older now, had enough therapy, read enough to know that maybe his dad didn't know how to be a father. He remembers the brightest around his father's eyes and knows the books at the SI tells a story of up and down finances, and he has to wonder how he didn't know how much the company struggled when he was young. One bad design after another. A few bad investments. A scandal or two.

He does remember the long nights. The ones where he would sit outside his father's office long past his bedtime and listen to him mutter and tinker and try and be his best self, falling asleep there until someone probably Jarvis would pick him up and tuck him into bed.

But to this day, Tony remember his father's face with perfect clarity as he inspected his son's microchip. He thinks that is where it really started.

Because that chip was a prototype. It was used to create a machine created version instead of his PCB that was placed in the Stark Industries first personal computer, sleek and chrome and of the future like Howard could always sell. It bust into the market in time for Christmas 1974, making millions, destroying any small computing company and launching SI into the black for the most long lasting time with an actual consumer product and not just income from military sales.

He knows that look now. Tony saw it enough time on faces that weren't just his father's. Tiberius Stone. Justin Hammer. Obie. It's like Obie always said. He has the stamina of an Olympic swimmer when it came to software and hardware. Howard could swim decently enough, but it was a struggle some days.

That's the moment , he thinks - knows now. That is the moment when he became a competitor to his own father.

Tony is four, and after that moment, his dad never looks at him exactly the same way again.)

To spiderboy

we're moving into the tower. this is your friendly fyi. ffyi.

To spiderboy

bring your suit by. i need to run a few diagnostics on my precious

To Mr Stark

Yes! How about after work on Friday?

To spiderboy

i'll leave a window or something open for you

To spiderboy

how is the plan to fuel my alcoholism going?

To Mr Stark

Um...consider this intern demo a wash

To Mr Stark

Please don't look up the footage

To spiderboy

wooow. is the leg fritzing out because of the power surge or the water?

To spiderboy

i'm impressed.

To spiderboy

so is Rhodey.

To spiderboy

we're going to name this new safety protocol the Parker Rule

To Mr Stark

Please don't

To spiderboy

don't worry kid. we add like five billion new rules every year.

To spiderboy

the one about no sex in the labs is totally my fault.

To spiderboy

along with the pants protocol.

To spiderboy

you don't want to know

To Mr Stark

I really don't.

To Mr Stark

You've lived an interesting life

To spiderboy

you know that's the kid friendly version.

To spiderboy

the real story takes place back in 93

To Mr Stark

OMG PLEAse STOP

To spiderboy

don't call me old

To Mr Stark

I swear on my soul or something. Please never again.

To spiderboy

didn't you know i already own that?

To spiderboy

that intern contract is pretty though

To spiderboy

and air tight

To spiderboy

:D

To Mr Stark

WHAT

To Mr Stark

i hate you

To spiderboy

first stage to loving me

Tony is sitting in the open area in the Tower, in diffidence to Rhodey and his request that he keep Tony in his eye line since Tony stumble upon and drank a DUMMY special smoothie and there had been an hour long puking session and too much yelling and a lot of water and maybe an IV. He could leave any time he wanted, but the TV in the background was nice. Rhodey's willingness to put various forms of liquid sustenance in front of him was even better.

The move into the Tower had been quiet, unassuming, and not picked up by the press really. Tony has been a bit impressed with how he was being left alone. After almost a month, he was losing the first place on Google to Finding Dory. Tony couldn't be more relieved.

He is stretched out across the couch, his feet in Rhodey's lap as he skims the patent application for the exoskeleton. "How about 'the amazing legs'?"

"No Tony," Rhodey absently responds with. He grabs onto Tony's feet and starts rubbing down Tony's arches.

Tony squirms a little. "What about 'pirate legs'?"

"Still a no." He finds a stubborn knot on Tony's heel and starts working on that. Tony inadvertently lets out a low groan.

"What about-?"

Rhodey turns. "You keep talking, and I'll stop this." He pulls back his hands from Tony's feet, and Tony whines, thrusting his sock clad foot in Rhodey's face. Rhodey just stares him down, and Tony can feel himself slumping on the couch.

"Okay, I'll shut up," he says to his tablet more than Rhodey.

Rhodey picks up where he left off, and when Tony glances over at him a few minutes later, there is still a big grin on his face. "You suck," Tony pouts.

"Not for you," he returns, calm.

The laughter from Rhodey at Tony's face covers the sounds of the elevator opening, but Rhodey's sudden sober expression clues in Tony. He pulls his feet back and sits up to see Bruce standing just outside the elevator, bags in hand. His hair is bigger, curls looser. He definitely got a tan in India, but he's clad in his favorite loose linen pants and untucked button down. He has a wary expression on his face as he takes in the scene and the room.

Tony is struck by a reminder about how much the Tower never changed after Ultron. He had been working on the compound, and it had been ready shortly after Sokovia, and the team had moved in mass to leave the bad memories behind. Widow, he remembers, had been one of the first to make the move.

"Hi," Bruce utters. "I guess my room is the same."

"Yeah," Tony nods. "Nothing's been changed. If you down, your floor will be opened for you by FRIDAY. We had it sealed off when you went on vacation. Oh say hi FRIDAY."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Dr. Banner. I am Mr. Stark's AI. Please let me know if there is anything you need," FRIDAY announces, scottish brogue showing a bit more than usual.

Bruce finds the nearest camera and tips his head in greeting. "The pleasure is all mine," he responds.

He turns back to Tony and Rhodey. Both watch him as he shifts his weight, "Mind if I put away my bags and take a shower before we talk Tony?"

Tony waves his hand. "Yeah go do what you need to. I'll be here. Pretending to be a starch instead of a Stark."

Rhodey hits his foot. "That is a terrible joke," he says.

The elevator door shut, but both ignores it. Tony pulls his feet away from Rhodey's death grip and crosses them under him, tablet discarded on the armrest and a decorative pillow in his hands instead. "Okay it's not the best," Tony acknowledges, ignoring the Hulk sized issue in the room. "But we both know it's better than Mr. Stank, which is just childish and annoying."

Rhodey grins. "If it's annoying, then I am doing my job right."

He makes a grab for the pillow, and Tony moves it before his fingers can touch. Rhodey makes another grab, and they end up wrestling over a decorative pillow with a whale on it for a good five minutes. Vision strolls by as they fight, throwing different nicknames at each other, and murmurs something to FRIDAY.

"One sec," Tony tells Rhodey. "The children are conspiring against us. What are you saying to FRIDAY Viz? I need to remind you that I helped create you, so you should be on my side and not Rhodey's!"

Rhodey stills vying for the the pillow Tony has above his head. "You better not lick the pillow again Tony."

"Hush, this is important. I need to check on the kids."

"Ugh, you won't promise. I want nothing to do with this any more."

Vision's magenta face looks amused in his carefully neutral expression. "FRIDAY and I were taking bets on who would win."

"So your kids," Rhodey mutters, dropping his head on Tony's chest. The thud echoes down his false sternum.

"Who did you bet for?" Tony asks, ignoring the memories rearing up at the pressure on his chest..

"Colonel Rhodes of course," Vision replies. "He has the superior military training background that would easily allow him to win a skirmish like this."

"Betrayed!" Tony bellows, wriggling under Rhodey in an attempt to buck him. "By my own child."

"I believe I take more after Dr. Banner," Vision admits.

"This," Tony says, "is quite literally one of the worst conversations I have ever been in. And I have to deal with crazy models."

"That was a personal choice," FRIDAY reminds him. "And thus a personal problem."

"Betrayed by both my children!" Tony shouts.

Rhodey is shaking into his chest, and Tony knows Bruce is a few levels above. Vision is grinning at him with a smile he stole from Clint, and Tony feels something for longer than a second that isn't an endless darkness in his soul. Happy, he thinks. I'm happy.

From: thedeskoftheking

I believe you and I should have a conversation about the Sokovia Accords. Your legal team has engaged the United Nations about the wording around the accords and are preparing for negotiations for more rigorous contacts. Since this would impact myself as well, I would like to ascertain if our viewpoints align on this topic.

Bruce finds him, hours later, tinkering in the lab. Not the one they used to share, but the other one that Tony claimed as his own when he had moved back in a few days ago. The bots whistle when he enters, but Tony ignores it. He finishes soldering the circuit, movements delicate as he connects the microprocessor to the miniature ARC sphere. It's smaller than a ring now, and Tony can't help but smile at the fact that he got it this small without someone else's help, old video or not.

He puts the board aside and straightens, spine cracking as he over compensates for his hunched posture for too long. He discards his goggles, and turns off the light he had on before tracking Bruce's movements.

The other man is pursuing footage from the fight on one of the monitors twenty feet away from Tony. They both stay silent as Scott Lang burst onto the scene, larger than life on the tarmac of the German airport. Spiderman rears back in the background, as Lang grabs onto Rhodey's leg. There is a pause as Vision comes into view before Lang tosses Rhodey. Spiderman scrambles to catch Rhodey, a truck goes flying, but they miss the plane before redirecting.

The footage goes on for a while, switches angles or feeds. It's the compilation he had had FRIDAY put together, right after. Tony still hasn't watched it.

Vision covering Black Panther. Tony and Falcon going after each other. Rhodey, Spidey, Vision and Panther going after Lang. Wanda going after Rhodey. Cap and Winter Solider booking it across the tarmac. Hawkeye engaging Panther. Vision taking down the tower. Rhodey hitting Wanda with the amplified sonic vibration. Bruce pauses on the footage of Cap and Winter Soldier disappearing under the crumbling tower.

The destruction, knowing how it ends, watching his teammates get batted around like they are nothing, makes some long forgotten anger bubble in Tony's gut.

(He had told all of his guys, quietly, as Cap and his band of misfits had approached, non lethal force guys. They are some of ours. We just need to subdue and collar them.

Panther had been pissed about not being able to take out Winter Solider, but Tony had promised him fifteen minutes alone once they figured out what the hell was going on. It wasn't like he hadn't tagged the suit in case he needed to shock some sense into the King. Probably would have landed him in the RAFT, but whatever got everyone to shut up and sit down.

There had been a plan. Get everyone on a plane. Take the scenic route and shout this out with everyone in the room. Figure out what was going on with the Winter Solider thing. Fix any brainwashing that had happened to Cap. Get everyone to know what line to toe so Tony could fix this disaster before Ross got his hands on anyone.

There had been a plan. )

"Tony you could have just talked to them," Bruce states to the quiet room as he turns.

Tony scoffs. "Talked? When the hell have we ever talked around here. We save the world, have a few socializing events and then disperse. Or that's it seems to work for me. I notice all the SHIELD kids buddying up together."

He moves towards the wet bar, looking for the scotch and then redirecting once he finds it. Now isn't the time. "But me? I sit here and try and keep my R&D department from crashing while making the pretty little weapons you guys so nicely request."

"That's not how it worked and you know that," Bruce returns, voice even. He's watching as Tony moves, like he's eyeing a caged animal.

"How would you know?" Tony bites out, bitterness bleeding into every word. "You've been MIA for a few months."

Bruce's shoulders go up, and he grabs ahold of a nearby chair. "Tony that isn't the problem at hand."

"Isn't it?" Tony says. "You wanted out. You were out. I had you away from the SHIELDS of the world who wanted you in a cage if you weren't near a superhero, by the way. I had you safe, and you came back."

He spreads his arms wide. "Not your problem any more. Why the hell do you care about us. You abandoned us."

"Tony," Bruce says softly. His entire frame is hunches, and he's clutching the chair like it's the only thing hold him up. "Not okay Tony."

Tony winces at the old code. "I'm sorry. I don't mean it that way, but after Ultron…" He waves his hand. "With them. It was like…"

"Everything you said mattered a little less." Bruce catches the thread of his thought. His knuckles aren't as white as they were a second ago.

"Yeah," Tony said, exhausted to his bones. He leans heavily on a counter, opposite side of the room. The bags under his eyes hurt. He looks away from Bruce. "I murdered 2,375 people in Sokovia. 37% were under the age of 12. They didn't even get to torture their parents with their terrible teenage years.".

He sighs. "That is on me. It will always be on me. I just wanted to make sure no one else had to live with that."

"Tony, we both made Ultron. That is a burden I share too," Bruce says softly.

Tony shakes his head. Bruce is watching with a terrible heartbreak in his eyes. This must be the first time he heard the numbers. "I made you. You didn't want to, and I manipulated you." He takes in a deep breath before continuing, "I still think about it. What if we had done it right. Waited a little longer. Tested everything. Stayed in the bounds of what we understood and knew."

He tilts his head back, staring at the glass covering the ceiling. Bruce is moving, Tony can see it in the reflection. The silence rings in the room.

"You didn't force me to do anything," Bruce says finally. "I am a grown man with issues backing away from bleeding edge scientific discoveries. See my Mr Hyde for a prime example."

Tony huffs a laugh while Bruce comes to a halt beside him. "If you really want to be a martyr, then 1188 can be on your conscious. I'll take 1186,"

"Okay," he hums. "If that is what you want."

Bruce makes a disapproving noise in his throat. "I want a lot of things. But right now, I want you to let me share the burden. I'm here Tony."

He lays a hand on Tony's left arm. Tony stands there, head hung and takes comfort in the fact that Bruce is here. That he is warm and alive and right here .

There are moments before all of this, where they were all almost friends. Comrades in arms definitely. Friendly but almost friends. After, he deluded himself thinking it would all be the same eventually. With some measures and a few more socially things, things could go back to really friendly.

But Bruce has been different. He had been a friend.

They had been the person they tried to stick spaghetti against when talking about idea. They had had so many discussions on theoretical concepts like time travel, alternate seminarians. The never ending rants about magic. There had been discussion about the future they wanted to craft. The lives they wanted to live. Secrets, dreams, wishes poured out from their hearts.

Bruce had been real, once.

"I see piles of bodies when I close my eyes these days. I see all of you at the bottom, and I know it's my fault," he admits. Bruce's hand tightens on his arm. "I know it's a nightmare. It's some stuff lingering from Wanda's dark side stuff. But I can't shake it."

"Did you ever talk to Wanda about it?"

Tony shakes his head. "She barely has control of her powers. I didn't want her thinking she had messed up my head." Bruce loosens his grip just a hair.

"Did you ever tell anyone else?" he queries.

Tony shakes his head again, this time a chuckle busts loose. "I've had shitty dreams since I was 19. How is this any different?"

"Tony," Bruce breathes out.

"I didn't want someone blaming my work on the Accords on that," Tony finally says.

He catches Bruce's, looking for some accusation, some anger, something. He catches sight of something worse - endless grief written in every line of his feature. "I know you were working on those Accords longer than you would admit. Politics never move fast."

And Tony had. There had been lobbyists to find, influence and fund. Senators to get on his side to make changes that didn't begin at Powered individual and end with automatic jail time . Then there had been ambassador, lobbyists in 193 countries and keeping the money funneled so it was so far away from his name that no one could ever trace it back to him. It had all been in motion since Ultron, and Tony hadn't wanted this one on his conscious again.

The other had been too busy to bother this with. Cap with his hunt for the Winter Solider, the missions that had been funneled their way by Maria Hill about various "Avenger level concerns". Clint had his family and his golf and retirement, even if he popped by every once in a while to visit. Wanda had had the never ending well of grief she was trying to train away with her powers, too young and too broken that made Tony ache.

Natasha hadn't wanted to admit it but Bruce leaving had been a wound to her as much as Tony. Her steadily increasing mission time has been enough of a sign for even Tony to notice. Thor had been gone, but he won't have understood, and Sam was too new for Tony to even get beyond "hello".

No one had needed to know, Tony had told himself. No one needed to worry. He just needed to get these regulations downgraded, then bring them up. It was his role in the Avengers to deal with the political and PR BS. He could do this, take care of this, and move on.

Then Lagos had happened, and everything had escalated beyond what he could control

"Tony, even mind control couldn't stop you once you were on a mission."

Bruce is smiling in the corner of his mouth. It's another the old joke, brought on by a discussion way too late at night about scenarios and code words and how they should handle from of the craziest scenarios. After aliens invading Manhattan, anything is possible, right?

Tony grins back. It's crazed, but he's a bit on edge. The scene of Vision taking Rhodey is playing in his head, and what ifs are ringing in his ears. He starts laughing, shaking down to his toes. He bends until his hands are on his thighs, and Bruce lets him go as he starts chuckling too.

Bruce's hand rests on his back as they shake and laugh for a good five minutes, until it almost turns into a chokes sob that Tony bites back last minute. He pulls back when he can breathe normally and the ache in his stomach isn't debilitating any more.

"Why Ross though?" Bruce finally asks. "You could have gone with anyone else."

"Not really, " Tony admits. "Your arch nemesis has the president's ear and has played his cards right that the UN adores him for catering to their whims. He had had his claws into the Accords from the beginning, and with it gaining power along side him, I thought that I had enough time to expose his doucheyer sides and get him removed and our own guy leading the charge." He pauses before pushing off the wall. "I thought I had more time."

He heads back to the table and picks up a StarkTablet. Bruce follows as he continues to the screen, changing the display until it show a directory of files for his different files.

"That wasn't the only plan," Bruce spots.

Tony hums. "There were others."

"And?"

"One is in play." Tony pulls up the directory called DREXLER "I need some things working first."

Bruce lets it go. "What are you looking into these days?"

FRIDAY obligingly pulls up the prototypes in the directory. "I'm thinking we go truly science fiction and nanobots. Cure cancer, allow guys to walk again, accelerated healing without all that nasty radiation."

Bruce begins playing with the nanobot prototype nearest to him, pulling his glasses off the top of his head until they are perched on his nose as he squints. "It needs to be something semi organic so it doesn't poison the patient or they body rejects it."

They stay down there, spitting ideas back and forth as FRIDAY records them, until Vision drifts through the ceiling causing a bark of fright from Bruce. "Colonel Rhodes has asked both of you to come upstairs for dinner. He says, and quote, 'I'm not fixing dinner to get stood up. Tell Tony to drag his butt up down before I come down there and do it for him." His voice is a perfect mimicry of Rhodey's. Tony isn't sure if it's a recording or something of his own creation.

"Meet Vision," Tony introduces. "I think we've decided that you are his mother Brucey bear."

Tony knows Bruce's heard about Vision. Everyone has, even in remote corners of the globe. That's what happens where there is a merchandising deal around a superhero group. And a cartoon. And other assorted things on the internet Tony pretends he doesn't know about, but FRIDAY categorizes with a glee he definitely did not program into her.

"I believe all your 'children' consider you their mother," Vision retorts mildly. "Dr. Banner is my father in this scenario."

Tony gaps. "I'm a mother? And I didn't get anything for Mother's Day? For shame son of mine. For shame!"

Vision inclines his head. "I will take this into account for future scenarios." He turns back to Bruce. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Dr. Banner. I have a few queries that hopefully you can resolve."

The look of wonder on Bruce's face stays with Tony the rest of the night, even when his smile doesn't.

From 54985-466-8653

Tony. What do you know about brainwashing?

Steve reaches his arm around Tony's shoulder as they both stare out at the half finished Avengers complex. The giant A is on the front.

"Tony," Steve starts. "I can't -"

Tony bites back a grin. "You kept bitching about the training room in the Tower, so I decided to build an entire training field. You like it?"

"Like it?" Steve rears back. His eyes are wide. "I love it"

He turns back to the facility. "We can train the younger ones to take our places here. I know you have been tracking those kids around town. We can become more co-hensive and be less afraid of learning our limits and hurting someone out here."

"We're going to make this a home."

Tony's cheeks hurt from smiling too much. He puts a fist out, and Steve gently bumps it with his. "That was the plan Captain my Captain."

Steve doesn't protest the nickname for once.

They stand out there for a while, watching the construction workers finish up for the day and take off until it's just the two of them, leaning against Tony's car, grinning like fools at the half built building.

"You did good Tony," Steve says softly.

Tony presses his arm against in a quiet thanks. "Want to head back?" he offers.

"How about a burger instead?" Steve asks.

Tony lights up. "Oooh it's been forever since I have had a burger. Don't tell Pepper. She'll kick my ass five ways until Sunday and her heels hurt . What about In and Out?"

"Stop it Fry," he barks. The simulation stops, the false sunlight dims, and it's just the lab again, Tony can see his hand outstretched, ready to reach out and shake him, turning him around, something.

He sighs and sits down, head in his hands and brain jumbled. It's okay Rhodey. We can pull this off. We can keep everyone safe , he remembers saying. His voice was full of false cheer, back straight and grin firmly on his lips. Rhodey had had a tightest in his face as he agreed, hand on Tony's shoulder as they had stood together before Germany. Before the airport. Before-

"Boss," FRIDAY cuts in. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Go for it Fry," Tony says to the floor, massaging his temples and hoping his brain just stops hurting for five minutes.

A screen lights up above him, and Tony has to take a moment before he can sit up without wincing. There is a diagnostic of a brain rotating in a holographic format. Below it, his name is written in blocky letters with a steady stream of data scrolling besides it. Cognitive ability, time elapses during session, time elapsed after session until subject shows full ability. "What's this Fry? You monitoring me?"

"My prime directive is to provide any insight about your health, mental or physical when necessary," she returns promptly.

"Brain scans are necessary now?" Tony snarks, expanding out the data. He stills the steady stream and reads it slowly. "Are you monitoring my brain when we launch the BARF protocol?"

"Yes boss." The machines in the room hum a little more loudly, and Tony half hears a yes sir in the place of her words. The fight drains out of him in the second it takes him to remember FRIDAY not JARVIS.

Tony sighs. "What have you found girl?"

"It looks like decreased mental capacity every time you stay under longer once you come out of the simulation. Your brain seems stuck in the experiment and had a hard time adjusting all cognitive senses to the real world. The brain is calibrating but after increasingly longer periods." She provides four screens of footage of him sitting around various locations, fast forwarded with time stamps until he stands and leaves the rooms. Each one gets progressively longer. Sometimes five seconds, others hours.

Tony restarts the one where he was in the only Jarvis residence. He sits there, dazed as he stares around the dusty room. It still hasn't changed. With a quick stretch of his fingers, his face is zoomed in. There are tear tracks. "Are we taking into consideration any variation that would be necessary with extreme emotions and recovery times."

"I am taking generic timelines," she replies.

Tony waves the data away. "Go through former data and video, take into account body language and average times for moods to disapparate. Make sure to check for the alcohol variable. You may need different data sets. This is all normal."

There is a pause. "Yes boss. Should I inform you of what results I find?"

Tony flicks open a new screen, rough prelim schematics he originally had for the next armor version after he had finished some test runs on the 46th. "Only if the anomalies are outside the 28% range in a majority of cases."

"Yes boss," she repeats as she pulls up video from the last round of testing, notes from him during flights about things to fix.

He takes a moment, turns back to the counter. There is a glass ready, and DUMMY rolls over, hooting softly with an ice tray. With a quick pat on the arm, Tony takes the large ice block from the tray. Tony puts the glass down to pour the scotch with two hands before putting the decanter back.

With a tight grip, he takes a drink before holding his arm out. His fingers shake slightly. Tony fists his hand before looking back at all the screens. "Okay Mark 47. Let's start."

To kittykat

Looks like you're in Vienna on the 18th. I can meet you there. - Tony

To Tony Stark

I believe I have time before. I will detour to New York first and come by the Avengers Compound to discuss this. If you would not mind, we could travel to Austria together.

To kittykat

Come to the Avengers Tower.

To kittykat

Please refrain from sharing that tidbit with your houseguests.

To Tony Stark

Of course.

To Tony Stark

I'll be arriving on the 16th.

To kittykat

See you then

"Boss," FRIDAY calls.

Tony waves his hand without looking up. "No now FRIDAY. I gotta finish this."

The suit still lays in pieces across the table. He's got his glasses on for the finer work, half eye safety, half using the program he has installed to help zoom in and do the finer work on the watch gauntlet. There is a hologram of the suit lazily rotating across from him, different pieces of the suit, shifting and adapting as FRIDAY runs various stress tests on the MARK 48.

"Boss you're really going to want to see this."

Tony leans up as the TV turns on. The screen is too bright against the lens of his glasses, so he pulls them off as the sound resounds in the workroom. "Reports are saying the Captain America, Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch and Falcon are helping the rebels in the Kurdistan conflict. Here is cell phone footage of Scarlet Witch helping in a refugee camp."

Wanda's eyes flicker red and then brown on the screen as she waves a ball into the air, entertaining a group of children as she adds a second to the group. The footage is grainy, but Tony catches glimpse of a smile on her lips. Clint's there too - in the background - too blurry to be recognizable by anyone other than those who know him. He's there, watching over the scene, arms clasped in front of him.

The video goes back to the reporter. "There is has been footage of Falcon flying outside the camp, warding off Iranian troops from the air." The video cuts to Sam in the air from a distance and he swoops down, Red Wing ahead of him, as Iranian troops scatter without a shot fired.

Tony tightens his grip on the screw driver. At that close of a range, the lightweight body armor would not have been enough to absorb the shock of an armor piercing round, and if Tony knew those guns the Iranians were holding, they were Hammer Industries guns that were usually loaded with armor piercing rounds. "FRIDAY, alert Red Wing to advise Falcon to take a safer distance," Tony voices, barely above a whisper.

FRIDAY is kind enough to say, "Yes Boss," and not comment on it any further.

Tony clears his throat and goes back at the gauntlet. It seems small in his hands. Too small. "FRIDAY, reach out to the UN panel to see if they want us engaged."

"Seeing as this is an unrecognized nation by the UN, I do believe this is one instance where the Avengers will be requested to not engage," FRIDAY returns.

"Gotta check in no matter what," Tony replies as he disengages the gauntlet mode. The plain watch is left, the Hello from SI, UI booting up in the tiny screen. "We play nice with others now, remember?"

He picks up the next piece, the new ARC reactor that he was thinking about installing in the suit under a layer of Starkium. Vibranium had been a something he had thought about for a second, but Tony remembers the video from the Siberian facility FRIDAY had shown him after the bruises had turned green. It glows vibrantly, and the glasses list output numbers in the corner of his vision. It could power the suit even in the event of his death, but could cause a nuclear explosion with the right combination in case Tony needs that option. He inspects the locking mechanism, twisting it left and right to make sure it wouldn't engage. Tony is pressing his thumb against the edge at 7 o'clock when the reporter busts out, "It looks like we have footage of Captain America himself in battle. Be warned, this footage is graphic and should not be viewed by anyone under the age of 18."

The Captain bounds into the fray, reckless. He has grabbed a tank panel on his way in, and is using it when the bullets go flying. Once he gets close enough, the rain of bullets slow, and he tosses the panel, throwing the soldiers on the left a good ten feet back. He lands his first punch on the guy nearest his right, twisting at the soldier who comes in on his left and upper cuts the next guy in front of him. He kicks out to the left and takes out the ones who he ducked.

Red Wing slides in and tazes a group of five who slump down. This gives Captain America just enough space to step back and duck the next punch at his head. Falcon drops into a nearby group with a flying kick. They go at it for a while, and Tony is clutching the ARC reactor enough that it is biting into his hand.

Falcon gets an unlucky hit in the temple, and Cap roars even though there is no sound as Falcon goes down under two or three soldiers pulling at him. But there are some explosions, and Black Widow slides into view, sleek and deadly as she takes out the nearest group with her bites.

The Captain is moving as quickly as he can, tearing through the soldiers with little regard for their own health and safety, unlike the lectures he used to give about minimal public damage and injuries to others when they were going after targets. After D.C. and Sokovia, they were trying to keep as low a profile as possible. He and Widow get to Falcon about the same time, and they block their discovery from view of the camera. Red Wing hovers nearby, vigilant about the sea of moaning or unconcious people around them.

Widow appears under Falcon's arm. He's bleeding from his temple, but he's waving off Cap. His goggles are firmly on, but Tony knows that face. He's annoyed and pissed he gotten taken by surprise like he was.

"Looks like the Falcon is alright," the anchor says, relief clear in her voice as the view minimizes, "It also looks like the Black Widow is on the scene. One has to wonder if she will be sanctioned by the UN, since she signed the Sokovia Accords and is fighting in what is clearly a non UN mission."

Tony watches the tiny picture cycling through the footage again, as Falcon goes down, as Black Widow slips in. He stares at the bodies around the three of them, counting injuries and categorizing them.

"It looks like social media is calling this quintet the Secret Avengers," the anchor announces. "One has to wonder what Tony Stark and his Mighty Avengers are thinking right now."

Tony has to force himself to let go of the ARC reactor, the shape of the metal is indented onto his hand and stinging slightly as he relaxes the joints.

"The UN panel head would like to speak with you," FRIDAY says.

Tony rubs the bridge of his nose. "Shit. Okay. Video call?"

"No boss."

Tony rubs his right temple. "Mute the TV and put him on. It's a him right?"

"Yes boss," FRIDAY responds. "The Swedish ambassador."

"Mr. Stark?" a voice warbles in his earpiece.

"Oh, hello Mr. Ambassador. How are you on this fine day?" Tony greets as he smiles into the call. He stands up and begins to pace.

"Yes I know this is unexpected. I did not know either."

"No sir, you know I have no contact with my former teammates. You have access to all my communications if you would like to check."

"I know this is a bad position, but think of it this way, Kurdistan is a country that is not affiliated with the United Nations, so their movements within the country is perfectly legal."

He's on his thirteenth loop of the room.

"I understand the Iranian ambassador is not happy, but his troops were attacking a refugee camp. You and I both know he doesn't have a leg to stand on."

"Black Widow is currently helping out in this situation but she still stands with the Accords."

"Yes Mr. Ambassador."

Twenty seventh.

"Yes sir."

"I can do that."

"Do you want us to mobilize?"

"I understand sir."

Thirty ninth.

"Perfectly."

"Thank you for the time sir."

Tony slumps into the nearest chair as soon as the Ambassador hangs up. His face is in his hands, and there is a throbbing behind his templates that aches between heart beats. Tony can feel the rushing of blood in his ears. He takes a moment, two, three, four, before he straightens.

"Fry, looks like we need to put out a statement. Transcribe what I say and send it to legal for their blessing."

"Yes boss," she responds.

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Too much.

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Not enough

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

I don't want to help your friend

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Aunt Peg would shake me if she could. Her ghost is probably bitching me out right now.

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

You should have never asked me

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

You should have told me years ago.

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

I hate you for asking me

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Hateyouhateyouhateyouhateyou

Draft reply to 54985-466-8653

Fuck off