Chapter Text
"I can't believe he was right!"
Tony muttered. He was standing in the middle of what was supposed to be an abandoned warehouse which instead was filled with about seven crates of weapons and twelve men that were now either unconscious or webbed to a wall.
Peter came up next to him with a sheepish smile.
"Yeah, he does that."
"But how would he have known about this? I made F.R.I.D.A.Y run their facial recognition and they all have just a minor criminal record as well as no reason to know each other! And then I tried to find any messages or hints as to when this shipment was gonna happen and it was so hidden that my baby took almost seven minutes just trying to find it!"
He gasped and turned to look at the boy next to him, oblivious of the rest of the team watching him with concerned and yet amused glances.
"Don't tell me that he's some kind of tech genius?"
Suddenly Clint barked out a laugh and answered the question instead of Peter.
"No no. Nothing like that, heh, tech genius..."
"But then how would he know!"
The billionaire shouted out in distress, throwing his hands up before stopping his movements completely. Clint and Peter exchanged a look.
It was Sam who interrupted the silence first. "You doing okay, Stark?"
This seemingly broke the man out of his zoning and a smile spread across his face. His head snapped to Sam.
"More than okay! Doing great actually. I'll be right back."
And with that his helmet clasped back around his face and he just flew out of the warehouse leaving the others standing there dumbstruck, and after about an hour it became very clear that Tony wasn't in fact coming back.
Peter stared at the hole Tony had left in the roof.
"...He does know we still need to write reports, right?"
"Nope."
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Fantastic."
Clint didn't even look particularly surprised. He simply walked over to one of the confiscated crates, sat down on it, and began peeling webbing off his quiver.
"Shouldn't we go after him?" Peter asked.
Clint shrugged.
"You ever try stopping Tony when he's got that look?"
"Yeah..."
"Have fun then."
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The workshop had become a warzone.
Not the explosive kind.
The organized kind.
Screens covered every available surface. Crime scene maps stretched across holographic displays, connected by glowing strings of data. Satellite imagery rotated beside blueprints of Hell's Kitchen rooftops. Police reports floated next to newspaper clippings dating back almost five years.
At the center of it all stood Tony.
Wild-eyed and unshaven, holding three cups of coffee.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y."
"Yes, Boss?"
"I need every recorded appearance of Daredevil."
"There are currently 4,817 documented incidents that may involve the vigilante."
"Excellent. Cross-reference them with weather patterns."
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By noon the next day, he had learned several completely useless facts.
Daredevil appeared on rooftops approximately 83% of the time.
He had damaged exactly fourteen different brands of delivery truck.
He seemed to dislike Tuesdays.
Actually...
Tony squinted.
"No... that's just because there were fewer documented crimes on Tuesdays."
He deleted the note.
------------------------------------
By the second night he had begun drawing diagrams.
Steve walked into the lab carrying a plate of food but stopped short when he saw the man.
"...Tony."
The billionaire didn't answer.
"Tony."
Still nothing.
Steve looked around.
Every wall was now a whiteboard filled with equations, maps and question marks.
One section simply read:
WHY THE DRAMATIC LIGHTING?
Underneath it:
Does he carry a spotlight?
Under that:
Investigate electricity. Powers???
Steve slowly walked over and set the plate down.
"You should eat."
"Mhm."
"You haven't looked away from those screens."
"Mhm."
"Sam challenged Nat to a fight and has gone missing."
"Mhm."
"...Tony, are you listening?."
"I found something."
"What?" Steve immediately regretted asking.
Tony spun around so quickly that Steve took an involuntary step backwards.
"He predicts crimes."
"...Yes?"
"No no no, not predicts predicts. He knows! He doesn't investigate after crimes happen. He arrives before they happen."
Steve frowned.
"Couldn't he just have really good informants?"
"I thought that too."
Tony swiped through dozens of holograms.
"Every anonymous tip line, police scanner, encrypted gang communication, civilian report and emergency dispatch."
He pointed dramatically.
"Nothing."
Steve stared.
"There is no way he could consistently know where to be."
Tony held up one finger.
"One: he has access to information literally nobody else has."
A second finger.
"Two: he has the greatest network of informants in human history."
A third finger.
"Or three-," Steve already knew he wasn't going to like this. “,he's cheating."
"...Cheating?"
"I don't know how yet."
Steve blinked. "I... don't think fighting crime has rules."
Tony ignored him.
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That evening Clint wandered into the lab carrying a bag of chips.
He looked around once.
"...Oh."
Tony was currently comparing the angles at which Daredevil landed on rooftops.
Clint quietly backed toward the exit.
"Negative."
F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice echoed through the room.
"Come here, I wanna run something by you."
Clint sighed, came up, and dramatically tossed the chips onto a nearby table.
Tony immediately grabbed one without looking.
Clint frowned.
"...Did you even know that was me?"
"No. I just heard a bag."
"...You're becoming him." Clint whispered in awe.
Tony finally looked up.
"...What?"
"You've started listening for chip bags."
"I don't have time for your psychosis Legolas, look at this." Tony zoomed into another collection of images. "Notice anything?"
Clint looked.
"...He's... red?"
"Besides the obvious."
"...He's standing?"
Tony groaned.
"Look at where he's facing."
"...People?"
"No!"
"...Buildings?"
"Exactly!"
"...and is that important?"
"I don't know!"
Tony threw his hands into the air.
"But it feels important."
Clint stared at him for a long moment. Then he slowly pulled out his phone.
Clint: Code Orange.
Almost immediately the group chat exploded.
Bruce: How bad?
Clint: He's making conspiracy boards.
Sam: Again?
Peter: About Daredevil?
Clint: Weather maps are involved.
A full thirty seconds passed before Pepper sent a single message.
Pepper: I’m initiating C.H.I.L.L, save yourself Clint
Clint smiled and Tony looked up suspiciously.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. Umm, Kate needs me.. I'll be back.” he said and slowly backed out of the workshop before breaking into a jog.
“C.H.I.L.L Alarm in three-” Friday's mechanical voice came through.
“Wait what-”
“Two”
“No!”
“One”
“FRIDAY DON'T-!"
“-IN THE EYE OF A HURRICANE THERE IS QUIET.., FOR JUST A MOMENT, A YELLOW SKY.”
“NOOOO STOP STOP!”
“WHEN I WAS SEVENTEEN A HURRICANE DESTROYED MY HOME. I DIDN’T DROWN. I COULD’T SEEM TO DIE-”