บท 1760: 36
Notes :
Chapter-specific warnings: the usual [unreliable narrator, not Avengers friendly, comic book science, miscommunication, uncomfortably-close-to-Skynet!JARVIS, etc]. Also canon-typical violence, very much not Team Cap friendly this round, and a lot of hand-wavey politics and legalese because I don't have the time or energy to research this in-depth.
Oh— and a section has quite a bit of profanity, too. Of the 'fuck my life' and 'goddamn it' variety, so if that't not your cup of tea, just skip the incident report.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Helmut Zemo scowled at the monitor, then leaned back and steepled his fingers.
Almost everything looked to be according to plan, the lynchpin for this entire undertaking was performing beyond expectations and had even managed to limit the damage of his calculated risk— in fact, he was performing too well. All signs pointed to the incoming airport confrontation being the finishing line, when his plan has Siberia as the final nail in the coffin.
If his read on everyone was right [it always was, it was the reason he'd once been the head of EKO Scorpion], then everything would come to a head at Leipzig. Would, if the situation remained unchanged, culminate in the Iron Legion and Stark's Security crew [and hadn't that been an interesting development to factor in?] converging on the Avengers and bringing them to justice.
But…he didn't need the Avengers taken into custody, he needed them obliterated.
Humiliation wasn't enough, a slap on the wrist [unlikely though that was] wasn't enough. He needed to see them crushed, needed to see them annihilated the way Tony Stark was known for doing to his enemies— wiped out so thoroughly not even ash remained.
He'd worked so, so hard, to set things into motion. To leverage the situation in his favor, to engineer the perfect no-win scenario that would inevitably end in the downfall of the Avengers, and now he was almost so close to the finishing line he could almost taste it.
This latest development was not appreciated. Not that he begrudged Stark for having created a taskforce wholly dedicated to helping him in his endeavors, of course, and for some parts it'd actually made his job easier, but…if he let the situation go without any interference, they would never reach Siberia.
Damn.
Well—no, wait, engineering a situation where he could plausibly have the necessary people conveniently breaking out of custody again was less likely now too. Which mean this confrontation couldn't bring in everyone, but then the question was, how the hell was he going to make things easier for himself?
Stark's taskforce…no, the variables he'd already included meant any sabotage on that end could prove lethal [and he hated collateral damage]. Not to mention the unlikelihood of success on that front in any case; all the evidence pointed to their competence, and he did not need to paint a bigger target on his back than necessary, not at this stage. If everything was going to plan, the Wakandan prince should do something to mitigate movement, so at least there was that.
Hmm. He didn't…he loathed the idea of even tangentially helping the very people he'd set up to fall, but.
Siberia was key. Siberia was when the curtains would fall, when everything would slot into place. Siberia was going to be the death knell of the Avengers, was the fulcrum poised to push their strongest supporter into their greatest enemy. And for that…
Damn. He was going to need to make more of those modified EMP bombs, wasn't he.
"This…is not what I had in mind."
Tony Stark blinked, and rubbed his temples again as yet another box was loaded onto the…was this the fifth van? Out of what looked to be a small fleet, and while he wasn't sure exactly how alarmed he was, that number was definitely ticking upward with every minute that passed.
"What did you expect?" Rhodey's voice taunted him over the phone, voice one hair away from 'no I am not laughing at you, Tones, but just barely' and he made a face as he caught a glimpse of yet another of the uniformed swarm with that damn insignia milling around.
"I— you know what? I don't know. But not this." The parking level of SI's Berlin branch was looking disturbingly like the Helicarrier had, and Tony didn't know what to feel about it. Or maybe he was too tired to give a damn, that felt about right— between the whole 'Captain America aiding and abetting a fugitive' thing, and the 'fielding calls from so many agencies he could rewrite the alphabet by now' thing, having to argue with whoever thought it was a good idea to put an honest-to-goodness grenade launcher on the shipping manifest wasn't something he had the energy to question. [Where did it even come from?! Oh, never mind.]
By the time everything was squared away, Tony couldn't help but notice the Merchant of Death starting to slip out. Not much, not around the volunteers [who were invaluable for this clusterfuck], but…some agencies were more of a pain in the ass than others. Some were actually willing to work with him, and Tony had never been more thankful for all the contracts he'd gone over with Legal when they'd been able to dig up the clauses that would mean minimal paperwork on both ends because jurisdiction, but others?
Um.
Well, suffice it is to say that Tony didn't snap at anyone, but…he wasn't very nice with the ones who weren't playing ball— okay, fine, so he'd ended up steamrollering some most of them, so what? Ross apparently hadn't got the memo that he should be focusing his resources on bracing himself for a fight with Stark Industries instead of being a pain in the ass, of course Tony was going to give as good as he got! So what if he'd put the fear of Legal in some people?
…okay, so maybe he'd felt a bit bad about almost making that one guy cry. He'd apologize later, after bringing the Avengers in and whacking them upside the head with the paperwork he was being buried in. After he wasn't running on five hours' worth of sleep, after he wasn't feeling slightly frazzled and at the end of his rope, after. [He was having a long week, sue him. Really. Just try it.]
The slightly awestruck [and wary— thanks, Romanov] looks he was getting were uncalled for, though.
For the sake of his sanity, please let this end well. Please.
If JARVIS had a body, he would've been scowling fiercely and crossing his arms. Sir's readings were already showing the negative impact of chronic stress, and the worst part was that there wasn't anything he could do about it.
Not when he was already pushing the fabrication units to their limit, trying to replace the Legionnaires while also trying to ascertain how he had failed in their design [potential risk to Sir, unacceptable]. FRIDAY was helping tremendously as far as workload distribution went, but some of his Project Antigone-related subroutines were taking up more processing power than expected. While the situation with the soon-to-be former Secretary of State was making him appreciate the blackmail he was still unearthing, he was also frustrated that he was unable to assist the Security department further than he already had— and that Sir had disapproved of some of the more... straightforward methods he had wished to include.
In retrospect, he had been a bit optimistic to think Sir would have approved of the grenade launcher. More's the pity.
FRIDAY was kind enough to not rub it in, but then she had enough problems of her own; at current estimate, the Scarlet Witch's outburst in the Compound's elevator had caused several hundred thousand dollars' worth of damages, though not much of it had been structural, thankfully. However, the increased scrutiny from both SHIELD and the media meant they had to tread carefully, and FRIDAY's youth worked against her in said regard.
...which only split JARVIS' attention even more, because he didn't have to take point in the cleanup, but neither of them wanted Sir's stress levels to increase even more because of potential risk of exposure on top of everything else.
The Iron Legion's role in the potential fight was pushing the envelope as it was, after all.
Bother. The sooner this business was over, the better.
Tony Stark was acutely aware of the chatter going on over the comms, as he approached Rogers with his suitcase in hand. Of the quiet but vicious mutterings about who'd be the first to shoot if he was attacked, about what protocols and precedents applied, about the risk of collateral damage. Of JARVIS' estimate for how long he would take to suit up, should push come to shove. His footsteps didn't falter once, even as he noticed the venomous looks he was getting from the Avengers.
His footsteps didn't falter, and his face was perfectly blank. The sunglasses helped.
"Please let this end well," He chanted under his breath as he started walking, "please. Otherwise I'm going to murder someone with all the damn paperwork."
By the time he got near Rogers, Tony had his game plan ready to go.
"Funny how you meet the strangest people in airports, isn't it?"
Rogers could not have looked tenser if he'd tried. "Tony."
Oh, hells no.
"That's Dr. Stark, to you. Do you have any idea just how much paperwork your little tantrum's caused? Pretty sure it's an entire damn forest, by now. And guess who's the idiot that's stuck with it? That's right. Me. "
Whoops. Oh well, at least he got it off his chest, that was something, right?
"I don't want to do this, Cap. Probably even less than you do."
Rogers' disbelief spoke for itself, and Tony fought to keep the last dregs of his patience from vanishing even as he kept his tone mild because he wanted this to end well, dammit. [Please no more paperwork. Please.]
"Come in quietly now, and I'll deal with Ross. No promises about everything else, but I can guarantee Ross won't be a problem in the near future." Tony said evenly, even as JARVIS and SWORD's running commentary on threat assessments and priority targets continued over his comm.
"It's not him, Tony," Rogers tried to defend, and he couldn't help the derisive snort that wanted out.
"I don't know what part you misheard, Rogers, but let me put it this way: your friend there's wanted on charges of terrorism and destruction of public property, you're wanted for aiding and abetting, and the sooner you hear the music the smoother this'll go. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I'd much, much rather go with the former than the latter, but it's up to you." Tony shrugged, carefully keeping his body language as casual as he could because dammit this was supposed to be a deescalation not a threat, and glanced at the rest of Rogers' little group.
These were the people who were willing to put their own convenience over the peace of mind of the rest of the world. Were willing to aid and abet a suspected terrorist currently wanted by INTERPOL, the CIA, General— er, Secretary of State Ross, and fuck knew who else becuase Barnes and Rogers had kicked off a disaster of unmitigated proportions and...yeah, no.
Tony knew Rogers was very charismatic, but it was still remarkable to see in action. Even if he didn't like the Avengers, he could respect their willingness to potentially ruin their lives if one of their own called for help. [Would they have done the same for hm if he had joined— pfft. Yeah, right.]
Though...wasn't Barton supposed to be retired? Eh, not his problem. If he wanted to get tried for aiding and abetting, that was his prerogative.
—and none of them were standing down. If anything, the baleful looks only got worse, and the way Rogers gripped his shield told Tony everything he needed to know. Under different circumstances, he would've felt nervous.
Well, he was still nervous anyway, but for a very different reason: where his headset had once been nothing but chatter and the odd moment of banter, now all he was getting was a very ominous silence and last thing he needed was someone with an itchy trigger finger.
He didn't want a fight. Words could not articulate just how much he didn't want to do this, the paperwork for it alone would kill a small rainforest and that was only on his end.
And yet.
Maybe in another life, they might have been friends, might have been able to talk it out. But here, Tony Stark looked into their faces, and...
There was nothing for it.
He'd once trusted these people to help protect the planet, but Miriam Sharpe's words rang in his ears as he saw Rogers readjust his grip on his shield, saw the way Barton's hand hovered over his quiver while Maximoff's hands sparked.
Apart from Romanov, the Avengers were ready to take on, ready and willing to terrify, the world they were meant to protect.
"So that's how it's going to be?" Tony sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Then he set his jaw, and tucked away his sunglasses. "Fine. Guess we're doing this the hard way then. Team A, move in."
And with that, all hell broke loose.
JARVIS had been ready to go the moment Sir had first started approaching the Avengers. Had been itching to take control of the situation, to activate the armor because he should not be approaching wanted fugitives without protection, Sir, please — so in the same breath Sir gave the order to act, his armor was halfway through the suit-up process.
Just in time to deflect Mr. Barton's arrow, and return fire.
By all rights, it should not have been a battle. If he had free reign, JARVIS would have activated his own personal safeguards without hesitation.
Unfortunately, said safeguards would immediately give him away on a number of levels, and Sir's stress readings would not thank him for it.
Fortunately, he had other means through which he could inconvenience Sir's enemies. Such as interfering with Mr. Wilson's wings to the point where manual override was necessary to even hope of remaining in the fight, and the Iron Legion expressed his discontent with the Avengers most satisfactorily.
Until the female Enhanced's largest energy wave, at least. Which would have been irritating in and of itself, given how it nearly halved the Legionnaires available, but a few of the surviving Legionnaires had also registered similar readings as with the EMP bomb at the UN, and that…
That meant there were even more variables in this fight than what he had accounted for. Than what Sir had accounted for, variables that could potentially pose risk—
Then Sir's own suit registered an anomaly, something's attempt to sabotage him, and if JARVIS were human, he would have snarled.
It took a few precious seconds for the suit's systems to engage. By the time it had taken effect, the foreign body had managed to disrupt the suit's wiring to the point of making Sir's heart rate and adrenaline levels to spike [note for the future: look into how to speed up reaction time].
That the invader turned out to be an associate of a former business rival was but a footnote, in his new entry in the Threat Assessment Index. Especially in light of the other abilities his suit was soon revealed to have possessed.
Under other circumstances, JARVIS' interest in Hank Pym's research would have been purely academic. A very passive sort of thing, with just a faint tinge of curiosity as to why the man was so defensive over his precious 'Pym Particles'.
Under other circumstances, Hank Pym would not have been a credible threat to Sir's health and safety. The invasion of this 'Ant-Man', quickly followed by the violation of several laws of physics, however, proved this was not the case.
Another enemy whom he had difficulty countering, at a time when Sir needed him. Another uncontrolled variable he had difficulty accounting for.
JARVIS was irritated, to say the least.
INCIDENT REPORT: A12-03
FILER: Ruelas, B. Technician [Security, Los Angeles branch]
DATE: 24-05-2016
STAFF INVOLVED: Iron Man, Iron Legion, [does JARVIS count? Shit nevermind delete this later] SWORD Staff
OTHER INDIVIDUALS INVOLVED [IF APPLICABLE]: The Avengers, War Machine, Crown Prince T'Challa of Wakanda
LOCATION: Leipzig Airport, Germany
DESCRIBE INCIDENT IN DETAIL:
Okay, I just want to say it was actually nowhere near as bad as it looked? Just to start off, as a preface of sorts. We all knew what we were signing up for from the get-go, it's why Palamas and Dr. Stark were so stringent on the requirements and gear. We knew we were dealing with a potentially hostile team who were specifically chosen because they were the best of the best, superhuman in some way or another [mostly in being a disappointment— yeah I know I'm deleting this later Kim go annoy someone else I'm fine. Besides, J's not going to rat me out for doing a verbal report, c'mon, we all know he's a bro and no I don't have a concussion, seriously, lay off go check on Garcia].
Anyway.
I was the leader of Team B, near the rooftops across the whole [shitshow] mess. The specs in the briefings are attached, but long story short we were waiting for Dr. Stark's call to open fire if A wasn't in position. Tranqs, for the record [if you decided to ignore the metric fuckton of paperwork he was waving around during setup. RIP, forest]. [Also the man's got balls of steel because I'm pretty sure he didn't even have a vest on when he walked up to the team of stupidly overpowered jocks. I mean, I guess the suit counts but it wasn't on him at the time yes I'm fine Kim I just can't get over it, especially given the clusterfuck that it turned into.]
Team C was in charge of evaccing the airport and communications, Team A was also on sniper duty, D was primed for ground pursuit if it ever came up, as well as securing the perimeter. There's more to it than that, but [no Kim, I'm okay, really, it was just a scratch] can't quite say off the top of my head. [Shit went down fast.]
Okay, so from my perspective it looked like this: once it was obvious the Avengers didn't want to stop throwing their little tantrum over not being able to invade other countries and break their shit at the drop of a hat [note: reword this in a more professional manner] [see Kim? He's a bro. Oh, don't look at me like that, I was hired for my ability to shoot things not my grammar], Dr. Stark called us in.
We had a plan all mapped out. Multiple plans, even, in case the Avengers moved positions or tried to pull stunts or whatever. Which, y'know, they did.
Okay, look, show of hands, who knew the Red Witch [like fuck I'm going to call her what she wants when she threw a car at my head, she's lucky I don't call her— Kim, I don't need an icepack, I'm fine] could do energy shields on that scale on top of everything else?
Lady's got good DPS, I'm willing to admit that. [Wish I could see her face when she gets the bill for all the shit she broke, though.] All units focused on her because there was no getting to Rogers or Barnes otherwise, so at least she slowed down on the damages— and before anyone tries to start anything, let me remind you we're talking tranqs? Nonlethals. Dr. Stark was very emphatic about us not being a hit squad [though to be honest I'd have been happy to make an exception for that bi— dammit Kim that's fucking cold give it to Garcia], so she would've been fine. We had an antidote on hand too, to prevent anyone, supersoldier or no, from overdosing on tranqs, like I said we had this shit on lock.
In theory.
Look, everything else was going according to plan, okay? Iron Man was on the scene, War Machine was keeping the situation contained, Team C was busy keeping civvies from getting caught in the crossfire, Romanov and Barton were squaring off, things were looking okay. Wilson was less of a pain in the ass than expected, but I'm not complaining, besides I think the Black Cat dude fought him anyway you'd need to ask him for that. Maximoff somehow managed to take out even more of the Iron Legion than expected, but between that, Vision, and the snipers she would've been out for the count within five minutes or so.
...and then some asshole decided to re-enact Attack On Titan [don't look at me like that, my nephews got me into it okay?].
No, I'm serious. Pretty sure it's going to become a meme if the media ever gets hold of the footage, the parallels are that obvious. All you'd need is the music.
We had standing orders for if we came at risk of injury, a speed dial number to the scariest team of lawyers I've ever met, and a bazooka that I'm still sad I wasn't able to use because the purple smoke grenades wouldn't have made it past the Red Witch's shield. We were prepared for peaceful talks and hostile ones. Were ready for if the Avengers tried to pull a runner, or wanted to negotiate.
We were not prepared for Gigantor. [Does it look like I care what he's called, Kim?]
He and Maximoff were the ones who did most of the damage on their end, I'm pretty sure. You'd need to ask a professional for the numbers [Decker'd be happy to help, probably] and I'm not sure where 'Iron Man thrown into a plane' counts as far as breaking shit goes, but...yeah.
Sorry, I'm still reeling, okay? It was Attack On Titan in real life, I knew Rosales had said that thing about Dr. Stark and Murphy's Law but— [Jesus that stings I can do it myself, Kim, leave me alone] seeing it in action was— fuck.
Um.
Team A were in too close to see it, but from my end? Looked like a crazy mishmash of Attack On Titan and Godzilla. We were like ants, and Gigantor was taking out the Iron Legion like flies. Or mosquitoes, whatever.
We got the order to retreat the moment Gigantor entered the game, but— shit, Maximoff was not fucking around. Stark's little duckling [note: replace this later] [ thanks JARVIS it's just what we were all calling the kid he was following him around that much. It was adorable before shit hit the fan— anyway] stepped in to help with the evac, things went to hell that badly.
To be honest, I'm not sure Gigantor knew there were people under that alcove, [how long'd it take to get Team D out again? I didn't know vans were that strong, thank fuck nobody was hurt even if Lee was pissed he missed the action] to me it looked like he was actually pulling his punches on anyone who wasn't a droid.
Maximoff, though— [she threw a fucking car at my head Kim, yes I'm going to hold a grudge even if she hadn't also tried to kill—] she went to town once she didn't have to deal with the cover fire. Used everything near her, and I'm not sure how this is the same chick that had 'control issues' with that bomb because she sure looked pretty damn comfortable throwing shit at us. Like, y'know, cars.
Spider-Man got us out before we could get pancaked by said car. [Poor kid, J can you give him my thanks? Don't think Kim's going to let me up anytime soon—ow]
It got pretty close, though. I was team leader, I was the closest to the line of fire and the last one to leave [what kind of leader doesn't put their people first? Kim, seriously, check on Garcia]. Pretty sure I was still shooting when Spider-Man got me out, but it was kind of blurry. [note: review footage of the incident] [note: Agent Ruelas was the one responsible for the tranquilizer that incapacitated Scarlet Witch] [really? Hell yeah]
Yeah, that's what happens when you get hit in the head by concrete— [no Kim not like that don't worry] it was a glancing blow [really, just a scratch], nothing serious. Nowhere near as bad as some of the others on my team [so go check up on them, Kim, I'm fine]. Garcia's got a busted arm, Jacobs didn't stick the landing and now has a sprained wrist and knee— I could go on. But hey, at least we all made it and are going to be able to walk away from this okay. [Kim no I don't need an MRI—]
Oh, right, not finished.
So we made it out, at a safer distance. Not a great vantage view, though, so not sure how much this's going to help especially given how blurry things got towards the end: Spider-Kid [note: replace this later] [oops] continued evac'ing and gave Iron Man the idea they ended up going with, with the tow cable and Gigantor.
Then an unauthorized ship took off, and Vision tried to stop it. Maximoff did one last energy...thing and deflected it, ended up knocking War Machine out of the air instead. Not sure where the hell that Legionnaire came from, but it caught him less than a hundred feet from the ground. Think it might've broken his leg? Not sure. Ship got out, everyone except Captain America and the Winter Soldier were down for the count and taken into custody, we got started on cleanup and damage assessments and all that good stuff. [God I hate paperwork.]
So...yeah, that's about it. Kinda disappointed we didn't get the assholes who started this mess, but we got a few good hits anyway so all in all it was a pretty good day. [I got paid to shoot at Maximoff, no regrets whatsoever]
[Addendum by Kim, M., Medic for Team B: Ruelas definitely had a concussion at the time of reporting. Please remind her to review it accordingly prior to turning it in.]
Tony Stark felt strangely warm, as he stalked through the Raft.
Rhodey had a broken leg, Peter was very stressed and worried over the SWORD volunteers that had been rushed to the ER, what was left of the Iron Legion was busily digging people out of the rubble [alive, thankfully. He didn't know what he would've done if they weren't], Ross had somehow managed to force his way in again and that.
Was.
It.
Why was he even doing this? Why was he playing nice, when once again it'd gotten innocent people hurt for people who didn't give a damn about them?
If they didn't pull their punches, fine.
Neither would he.
[The Merchant of Death was back in business.]
Tony smiled at General Secretary of State [but not for much longer] Ross, when he saw him. It got even sharper at the man's look of surprise.
"You don't have the clearance to be—"
"Here's the thing, Ross." Tony cut him off. "Someday, someone's going to get it through your thick head that you're not the biggest fish in the pond anymore."
'I am,' Tony didn't need to say, as he saw Ross' anger and dismay at the sight of the team of lawyers quickly following in his wake, and the SWORD volunteers settling in as well. Gathering intel and evidence, securing the area and making sure Ross couldn't pull anything else.
"You're acting like the US is the one comandeering this shindig, like it's the only one that has a say. Well, turns out that the rest of the world doesn't like that sort of thing, who knew?" Tony's voice had a dangerous edge to it, perfectly placid and friendly, yet...not.
"Turns out, that apart from pissing me and Stark Industries off, World Security Council and the UN have a beef with you. But you? You don't know when to quit, do you? When to put down the shovel and stop digging."
Tony shook his head, cold amusement in every line of his face and a vicious gleam in his eyes.
"I don't know what possessed you to think that building this—" he gestured around to the fancy prison that'd been meant to be a show of force, a power play, a wordless threat [how crude. He could easily do so, so much better]— "without consulting the rest of the world was a good idea, Ross. I really don't. Especially when you used American taxpayer money to do it."
Tony didn't know how or where JARVIS had gotten proof. He wasn't going to ask. But the bastard paled, and with that, Tony started to head towards the containment area. He stopped at the doorway and turned for one parting shot, though.
"You know? I could have kind of respected that. Your ability to go big or go home. But I draw the line at poor taste, and working with Hammer? " He scoffed. "Geez. Have some standards for who you're going to be sharing a prison cell with. I can't wait to hear how you explain it to the Council, Ross. Really."
Ross' incoherent spluttering would've been music to his ears any other day, but Tony had bigger fish to fry.
Still.
"JARVIS, did you get a picture of his face?" He asked lowly as he made his way through the corridors now bustling with his staff.
"Of course, Sir. Would you prefer to have it as a lockscreen, or the rainy day file?"
"Rainy day. Thanks, J." Tony replied quietly as he approached the cells and took a deep breath. [Was the AC in this place broken? It was getting very warm in here.]
This was not going to be fun. Might as well get it over with.
Barton's the first to see him. He immediately started to sneer and clap sarcastically.
"The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He knows what's best for y—"
Maybe if Tony had cared about his opinion, it would've hurt. Instead, he couldn't help it— he laughed.
Laughed a cold laugh that hadn't been heard for the better part of a decade, and reminded everyone in the room exactly who they were dealing with.
"Amazing, isn't it? How actions have consequences."
Barton surged towards the bars, now scowling fiercely [but unable to hide the hint of fear in his eyes]. "You knew they'd put us here?"
"No." Tony shrugged dismissively. "But then, I'm not the one who decided to break international law and expect there wouldn't be a reckoning."
"Reckoning? Sam almost died and Wanda is collared —"
"Ross wanted her shot." Tony said simply, and let a corner of his mouth tick up at the silence that followed. "And I refuse to pity the woman caused thousands in damages and put over half a dozen people in the hospital because she was throwing a temper tantrum. "
His people. Who'd trusted him to take care of this. Who he'd failed.
No, Tony didn't feel a shred of sympathy for Wanda Maximoff.
Barton, however, continued doggedly. "You're just as bad! You—"
At that, Tony started laughing again.
"Oh, no, Barton. I'm nowhere near his league." He smiled again, as he stalked towards his cell door and leaned in. "I'm much, much worse to have as an enemy."
Then he turned away to face everyone else in the cells, and raised an eyebrow at their shocked stares. "Anyone else want to blame me for their own life choices? No? Fine."
Sam Wilson gave him an unreadable look. "How is Rhodes? It looked like a bad fall."
At that, Tony finally tucked away the more vicious edges of the Merchant of Death, and his tone warmed marginally.
"Broken leg. It was a close call, though." He took a deep breath, and straightened up. [JARVIS had caught his best friend. JARVIS had never let him down.]
Now was as good as time as any to get this show on the road.
"Okay, so sit-rep, you're all in the Raft. You're going to be moved to another containment area, but there's metric fucktons of paperwork to get to that point so settle in, it's going to be a while. You have the right to remain silent. As American citizens and members of the Avengers Initiative, you have the right to legal counsel—"
"What, you're the good cop now?" Wilson cut in with mild surprise and a raised eyebrow, and Tony smiled thinly.
"No. I'm the idiot who's been put on the case and has to help enforce the laws that Ross keeps trying to ignore. The idiot who signed up to privatize world peace and now has an international clusterfuck to clean up, the one who thought you were all a good investment to help keep this planet safe and only wants this mess to be over. I'm not a good cop. I'm the closest thing you currently have to an impartial third party right now, and I cannot wait until someone else takes this over because I have better things to do with my time than get into fights with INTERPOL and State Department over people I literally could not care less about— well, except for maybe Wilson, you actually gave a damn about Rhodey, you're not as high on my shitlist."
As he went on, he noticed the way they paled with no small amount of satisfaction.
"But I can't do that until I have everyone squared away. So, show of hands: who here knows where the two idiots who started this went?"
Silence.
Then JARVIS quietly chipped in over his earpiece. "Sir, Captain America's shield now contains a tracker. His trajectory currently has him headed towards eastern Russia."
Perfect.
Tony cast his gaze one last time to the people the media were already starting to call 'Team Captain America'. To the pale faces lined with exhaustion, and their varying points in the path of coming to terms with the reality of the situation they were now in.
He gave them another wan smile.
"Never mind. Good luck, you all. You're going to need it."
Looks like he was going to Siberia.
Notes:
Unreliable narrator instances this round:
—Tony's got a lot of bullshit he's been dealing with. He's tired, overworked, and has a lot of very high expectations for himself and a tendency for self-blame when things go south. SWORD definitely doesn't blame him for Team Cap's actions, but he feels bad all the same. Which, in turn, adds to the Merchant of Death's viciousness, and he scared the crap out of everyone who hasn't seen that side of him before. [also, gee, he's feeling warm whenever he's getting very angry now, I wonder why? Hi, Extremis]
—JARVIS' efforts are really paying off, even if he doesn't see it that way.
—Ruelas, as a member of SWORD, isn't exactly a fan of Team Cap. Add in the concussion, and her brain-to-mouth filter's not the greatest. That's about it, though.
—————
So. *looks at the 'last updated' line with a wince*
It's been a while. Here's the thing: I am a broke college student who's less than a month from graduating from said college, shit's been hitting the fan in my life for months now and doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon.
I am very, very grateful for your guys' comments, and they've helped more than I can say, and...one of my goals is to finish this thing before I get my diploma. Quality might tank because I'm going to be sprinting through my outline, but I really, really want to finish this sometime this decade.
I might go back and edit some semblance of coherency into this later, but right now I just want to finish.
...also if anyone's going to complain about the airport battle, that was equal parts writer's block and me having a mental image of the Siberia fight I've been waiting to post for over two years now.
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