Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sir was brooding. Not that he didn't have cause, but the lack of rambling monologue was unusual and therefore concerning. JARVIS had many years of experience helping Sir and had gotten fairly good at anticipating his needs, but even that was insufficient to figure out where Sir's thoughts were wandering as he stared out the shattered windows at a broken skyline, tumbler of scotch forgotten in his hand.

The past 36 hours had introduced too many variables to formulate a solvable equation. He began to organize the variables to consider in an attempt to determine priority, and to determine what factors might play into the severity of each.

1. Confirmation of hostile aliens via their attack on Earth
   
   • Hostility toward Sir of team -designated Avengers - recruited to meet said attack
     
     Repeated prodding of Sir's old traumas and issues
     Repeated belittling of Sir
     Dismissal of Sir's concerns on multiple subjects
     Note: Designate Avenger: Bruce Banner as non-hostile
     
     Query: Re-designate Avenger: Bruce Banner as ally?
   • Role of luck in averting said attack
     
   • Lack of preparedness for potential similar future events
     
   • Lack of willingness to discuss making such preparations
2. Confirmation of existence of magic and mind control
   
   • Lack of method to analyze or block magic
     
   • Lack of means to effectively prevent mind control
     
     Potential avenue of inquiry in ARC technology
     Lack of means to test possible solutions resulting from inquiry
     
   • Existence of means to determine mind-controlled individuals
     
     Query: Do methods of mind control exist besides the scepter?
     Query: If other means of mind control exist, do they have similar indicators?
     
   • Existence of proven means to release controlled individuals
     
     Query: If other means of mind control exist, do they have similar methods of release?
     
3. Confirmation of hostile Earth-bound factions
   
   • Uncoordinated launch of nuclear missile on a civilian target
     
     Identity of authorizing entity unknown
     Probable affiliation with SHIELD, given Director's ability to warn of launch
     
   • Untrustworthiness of SHIELD
     
     Previous and repeated hostile interactions of SHIELD personnel with Sir
     Previous threats of injury to Sir by SHIELD personnel
     Previous assaults upon Sir's person, residence and company by SHIELD personnel
     Existence of "Phase Two" within SHIELD
     
     Based on 'Tesseract': review existing files of H. Stark
     Further investigation of 'Phase 2' specifics recommended
     
     Refusal of SHIELD director to listen to Sir's account of unidentified threat beyond portal
     
   • Avengers' lack of concern and attitude toward Sir
     
     • Previous interactions of SHIELD personnel, now designated Avengers, with Sir
       
     • Notable hostility and threats of injury to Sir by Avengers
       
     • Willingness of Avengers to abandon Sir in unknown space
       
     • Refusal of Avengers to listen to Sir's account of unidentified threat beyond portal
       
     • Designation by Avengers of Sir as expendable
       
4. Sir's trauma and increased risk of emotional or mental breakdown
   
   • Lack of reliable allies
     
   • Lack of support from usually reliable allies
     
     Query: Consider as temporary aberration due to unforeseen circumstances?
     
   • Trauma of being thrown with sufficient force to shatter heavy duty ballistic glass
     
   • Trauma of fall from significant height sans suit
     
     Successful test of response time for self-assembling suit
     Successful test of suit assembly on moving, unposed form
     Further refinement of assembly process recommended
     
   • Unexpected threat from uncoordinated launch of nuclear missile on a civilian target
     
   • Trauma of entering unknown but verified hostile space through unstudied portal to dispose of said missile
     
   • Lack of communication ability after entering said portal
     
   • Lack of vital signs upon returning from said portal
     
   • Near death falling from extreme height
     
     Query: Re-designate Avenger: Hulk as ally?
   • Designation by Avengers and SHIELD of Sir as expendable
     
   • Willingness of Avengers and SHIELD to abandon Sir in unknown space
     
   • Refusal of Avengers and SHIELD to listen to Sir's account of unidentified threat beyond portal
     

JARVIS took note of points that appeared on more than one list, and found it possible to recommend a course of action to distract Sir from his brooding. Obviously, Sir should be separated from SHIELD's sphere of influence as quickly as possible, and he just as obviously needed someone to take his information seriously.

::Sir, I have successfully recovered the footage from the suit.::

"That's nice J, but ultimately pointless. Nobody's listening."

::May I suggest renewing some old acquaintances rather than dealing with those who force themselves upon you at their own convenience?::

"Such as...?"

::I would recommend the Secretary of Defense, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Pentagon, Sir.::

"They all still hate me, J."

::They are professionals who are in charge of handling National Security issues. Given the events of the past few days, I suspect they will listen, regardless of you being the messenger. There is also the matter of that nuclear missile...::

"True." Sir sighed and took a sip of his drink. "Fine, J. Set up an appointment for me. Maybe tomorrow? Give me a bit of time to prepare. Within the next couple days, at least."

::Very good, Sir. I will prepare the data for presentation. Might I recommend you take a short nap? You have had quite the time of it recently.::

"Sleep is for the weak, J. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

::I respectfully disagree, Sir, and given that you did nearly die mere hours ago, would prefer you find a different way to express that particularly ridiculous sentiment of yours.::

"Ah, J... you and your sass. Love you, too. I'll lay off on the death jokes for a day, just to spare your delicate sensibilities. Still not gonna sleep, though - got too much to do. I'm glad you have my back. Thanks."

Sir's wistful tone and lack of threats regarding the DMV or Community Colleges, while an improvement over silent brooding, was concerning. Clearly further monitoring and intervention would be required.
::For you, Sir? Always.::

Sir's smile was all the reassurance he needed. For now. Sir would pull through.

Chapter Text

It made no sense. He turned it around and around in his head, and it still made no sense. It had to be a people thing - they were usually illogical and non-sensical. He hated trying to decipher people. It had been three days since a portal had been opened over his home. Three days since the world had gotten confirmation that they were not alone in the universe - and that the other things out there were both hostile and tough bastards. Tony's mind hadn't shut up long enough for a decent night's sleep - never mind the nightmares that were probably waiting for when he eventually dropped off. His thoughts kept spinning too rapidly and too loudly.

SHIELD had tried to recruit him for ages - had threatened, hacked, drugged, watched and manipulated. They'd tried everything except actually asking nicely... or, well, he supposed that at least ONE of those times may have counted as asking nicely by their standards. But, still.

An alien invasion had happened - a real life, honest-to-God, end-of-the-world fight-for-survival alien invasion from space - and they'd finally gotten him in the door and cooperating. And now - now that he'd seen what lay beyond that portal, now that he was 110% on board with the IDEA of the Avengers Initiative, now that he could understand the justification for the whole "Phase 2" weapons thing and could possibly be persuaded to help - NOW they were ignoring him.

Every time he tried to get their attention, to get them to discuss preparations for the NEXT SPACE ALIEN INVASION (and he was really sort of freaking out about that), he didn't even get a pat on the head before being told to run along and play nicely while the adults talked. And as much as it irked him to be ignored, the fact he couldn't figure out WHY their attitude toward him had changed was far more galling.

When he wasn't trying to figure out SHIELD, his thoughts kept circling back to Loki - ragdolled into the ground by the Hulk, leaving a crater in marble and concrete flooring, beaten into unconsciousness but functional - able to crawl out of his hole under his own power and make a (admittedly somewhat weak) jest. Hard to damage, much less kill. Tony was just glad the bug-alien army Loki had brought with him had been slightly easier to take down. Not that that was really saying much - they'd still been tough bastards and he was well aware that luck had played a large part in pushing them back. A "higher form of war", Thor had said... which led to dozens of other questions like: why had they never been attacked before? Earth's weakness was no defense - waiting for a target to be strong enough to fight back was never the way would-be conquerors worked, and he was pretty sure that was something that transcended species boundaries. Therefore, Earth was either far enough from the 'center' of the inhabited galaxy as to be not worth the fuel for most, or - more likely - had nothing special enough to want...till now. SHIELD messing with the Cube had somehow sent a message - not that they were ready for a fight, but that there was plunder worth the effort. Regardless of this small victory, the war was not won - despite what the media was selling. They'd been shown that they were but tiny minnows in an ocean of sharks ...and that possible allies (i.e. 'Asgard') really didn't think of them as 'allies'... more like a poor pitiful fiefdom grudgingly taken under questionable protection. And since one of the aggressors was from that same potential ally, it was even worse. They had to be ready to stand on their own - and quickly.

JARVIS' suggestion of talking to the Pentagon had been helpful. Most of the upper brass had been willing to listen and take him seriously, at least. ...Most of them had also wanted him to immediately start producing weapons again. And he eventually probably would... maybe. Once certain safeguards were put in place, and certain people removed from the equation, and necessary research undertaken, and... it would be a while, to say the least. Especially since he had other projects he was willing to move forward on more immediately.

Some good had come of the meeting, at least: collection and disposal of Chitauri corpses, tech and weapons had been consolidated to make sure they were handled safely. Under the newly created Department of Damage Control, he had arranged to provide biologists and others with controlled labs to study Chitauri remains and make sure they weren't carrying any human-catchable pathogens, and to determine whether cremating the bodies would result in toxins being released. The number and size of the corpses presented their own sort of problems and, given the smell that was beginning to permeate the battlefield, body disposal had been given highest priority. The smaller bodies were easily handled, but there was ongoing debate whether it would be better to cut and cart the larger ones or come up with a way to cremate them in place - a prototype bio-targeted ARC powered self-contained crematorium was in the works for the second option. If it worked, it would simplify clean up tremendously. In the meantime, various crews were tasked with searching for survivors, identifying the dead, and clearing the streets of debris. Specialized teams had been assigned to collecting the weapons that were scattered among the rubble and taking them to a secure and well-guarded holding area. The military was supervising and coordinating all the crews. It wouldn't do for every Tom, Dick or Harry helping with clean up to collect hazardous souvenirs, after all.

Ugh... what a headache. He needed another drink.

Chapter Text

It was good to be back in the states, despite the reason for his reassignment. After Tony had taken SI out of the weapons business, he'd understood why Tony had done it - intellectually - but it had taken a while to get past his anger at the suddenness of the decision, at being blindsided by the announcement. Stupidity had happened on both their parts, and they just hadn't been as close since. At times he still wondered if their relationship would recover the easy camaraderie they'd had for decades, especially since his role as SI's liaison with the military had required less and less time and his work as War Machine had taken more and more of it. It just figured that it would take a gods-be-damned alien invasion to reverse that trend. Everything involving Tony somehow seemed to veer directly into the path of highest dramatic potential. (And he was weirdly ok with that.)

Granted, he was here in an official capacity, and supposed to be trying to talk Tony around to going back into the weapons business (cue over-dramatized gasps of shock at the 'unexpected' plot twist) so they could be better prepared to kick alien butt if/ when the next invasion happened. (and since this is 'An Episode in the Life of Tony Stark™ ', OF COURSE it it's going to be when) But being here as an official liaison meant he had time to spend getting to know his crazy brother from another mother again, and hopefully rebuild much of what had been broken down by time apart and mutually poor communication. ...and kept secrets, and hurtful words, and reckless decisions and... (nope. don't go down that rabbit hole again, Jim - focus on what you can change, not what you can only regret. Learn from it, make amends and move forward.)

"Hey, Rhodey-bear. It's good to see you again." was the greeting given as he stepped out of the elevator into the bustling construction zone that had formerly been Tony's penthouse apartment. A hard hat was clapped on his head before he'd gone three steps. "You can drop your duffle in the third room on the left. That hallway was almost completely undamaged, so it's all set up for you." God help him, Tony looked and sounded awful despite the 'unflappable boss' mask he had on. Eight days had passed since the invasion, and it had clearly been even worse than he'd feared - and that was saying quite a bit, considering the whole nuke-in-a-wormhole SNAFU on top of everything else.

After dropping his duffle bag in the indicated (and comfortably appointed) room, he took a minute to change his dress shoes for the combat boots he'd packed. (Always good to have on hand when spending time with Tony, as it was impossible to predict what sort of insanity they'd end up in.) He briefly considered changing his uniform for fatigues before deciding not to bother and returning to the main room. Tony didn't greet him again, and it only took a few seconds to see why - Iron Man was hovering outside (how the hell did he get into the suit so quickly?? I think might I need an upgrade.), helping set and hold a large, unwieldy window pane in place as the renovation crew worked to properly secure it. Judging from the debris and extra-heavy-duty plastic sheeting balled in a corner, this was not the only window to have needed replacing. Footage of what had happened to shatter the penthouse windows was scarce and he'd just assumed it was yet another flying-alien-crashing-into-building scenario like much of the other damage to the city... but from here it was apparent the blast had been outward. What. The. Hell?

Uncertain whether he'd be any help, he snagged a bar stool and tucked himself in a corner, out of the way of the workers. It was interesting to see them working on the window - Iron Man framed by three ordinary guys in safety harnesses and four more working on the inside. The window was finished in much less time than he would have expected given the size of the pane and location. Iron Man was focusing on one of the suspended workers, who was talking and gesturing - probably going over whatever safety concerns and other issues Tony would need to be aware of. After securing the glass so it wouldn't shift as the repairs cured, the inside workers began cleaning up and the outside workers were pulled up to the roof. Iron Man landed on the walkway and the suit began to disassemble itself without the usual degree of robotic help. It was utterly fascinating. Tony noticed his interest and gave him a genuine smile which faded into something more closely resembling his press conference smile as he watched the workmen pack up to leave - done for the day. He didn't say a word beyond empty pleasantries until they were out the door.

"Hey, Honeybear! Just gimme a sec, ok? JARVIS, run the usual scans." Tony headed to the refrigerator.

A minute later, JARVIS' calming voice filled the room.
::All personnel have vacated the area, Sir, and two surveillance devices have been deactivated.::

Survei... why the hell would the workmen leave sur... never mind. 'An exclusive look into the life of Tony Stark™ ' was always a sought-after commodity. And that was assuming they were just looking for tabloid fodder and not more sensitive information.

"Ok, we're clean. So... what's up in the wonderful world of War Machine?" Tony slammed the fridge shut and tossed a bottle of water at his head, grinning when he plucked it out of the air.

"Thanks. I'm pretty sure my world has been pretty boring compared to yours. I've seen the news and read the briefs, but seriously? I leave you alone for a few months and this is what I come back to? This is why we can't have nice things." He grinned at his friend. Tony just grimaced before cracking open his own water and taking a swig.

"In my defense, this mess was made literally in my defense."

"Yeah... so what the hell really happened while I've been gone?"

Tony slumped, sighing deeply. "I'm not drunk enough for that conversation Sour Patch." All traces of good humor slipped from Tony's face, replaced again by the weariness he'd glimpsed earlier. "The Glenmorangie is gone, how does a date with Queen Anne sound?"

(not good not good not good... ) had Tony been drinking already this morning? He'd seemed steady enough while helping with the window...

"Ah, no thanks, I'm good."

Memories of the last time he'd seen Tony drunk while in the Iron Man suit flashed across his mind, and he deliberately pushed them away - because that had been different, Tony had been dying, and... wormhole. nuke. alien invasion... (nope. nopenopenope not going there.)

"You sure you don't need a drink? 'Coz I'm sure you need a drink." Tony was moving around the counter, getting out tumblers and looking through his extensive liquor collection. "'I'm also sure I need a drink. If Queen Anne's not your lady of the day, how about Widow Jane? She's a bit more feisty. Pretty sure I still have a half bottle here somewhere. Or I have Gentleman Jack if you're not inclined toward entertaining a lady today." Ordinarily he'd find the innuendo-filled, rambling attempt at deflection entertaining, but this was just that hair too strained.

"Tony... Look at me." His friend - his brother stilled but didn't turn around. His posture screamed the sort of exhaustion Rhodey hadn't seen since Afghanistan - too tired to put up a good front, and too beaten down to make a half decent attempt with people he wasn't on high alert around. (well, shit.)

"Ah, hells, Tones... C'mere" he walked over and folded his brother in all that mattered into a hug. Tony stiffened at the touch and, when he didn't let go, crumpled, tucking himself under his chin and shaking. (yeah... this is bad. This is 'I've been repressing way too much shit and that's why my eyes are brown' type bad.) "Let's go sit down, yeah? We can talk later. Just grab your water and let's just go sit for a bit. I've got you."

It was a good thing so very few people knew Tony's real weakness. He had an incredible tolerance for alcohol, a devastatingly high pain tolerance (and sometimes that's a life saver and sometimes it makes him a danger to himself. Oh, Tones... sometimes I wish you didn't have quite so high a tolerance for emotional pain.), and a stubborn streak a thousand miles wide. People had tried and failed to get him drunk enough to spill secrets. Torture had only resulted in the deaths of those who went after him. Blackmail didn't get much better results, other than the perpetrator usually wasn't, ya know, dead. It was nearly impossible to force him into something he had decided he really didn't want to do and come out on top. He was also remarkably unbribeable - he didn't really need more money, was publicly shameless and sex was its own reward in his eyes - neither bought nor sold, just enjoyed.

Freely given affectionate cuddles by someone he felt safe with, on the other hand, could get you everywhere if you were patient. Granted, it took a lot of time and effort to gain Tony's trust in the first place. (it's a good thing he doesn't trust easily. ...and a bad thing that it comes from too much experience trusting the wrong people.)

After an hour or so of just cuddling quietly on the couch with some utterly forgettable foreign sitcom playing for background noise, Tony began to talk quietly. Everything since that disastrous birthday party when Rhodey had flown off in War Machine spilled out. (Oh, thank God Tony had been trying to trick me to take War Machine in the first place. the betrayal he'd have otherwise felt would have made us enemies, and I really don't want him as an enemy. Maybe our friendship isn't as badly damaged as I'd thought. Maybe I've just been more blind than I realized.)

He'd already known parts of it - the Palladium poisoning and discovery of a new element, the various fights and confrontations that he'd either seen in the news, been briefed on or - in rare cases - been involved in, the alien invasion... it was bad, but he could deal with it. It was all the stuff he'd had no clue about that was the problem. Multiple home invasions, ambushes, attacks and threats by supposed 'friendlies'? The whole situation that culminated in Obadiah Stane's death? Everything dealing with the Avengers? (Captain Bloody America telling them to shut down the wormhole-making machine without waiting even a full minute??? WhatTheHell??? ...actually, Captain Bloody America being alive at all... What. The. Hell?)

"Ok, first off, who the hell are SHIELD? I've been in the military for years, and worked with pretty much every damn intelligence agency the US either runs or cooperates with. You were the primary weapons manufacturer for the US and dealt with pretty much the same roster, minus half the foreign alphabet soup. And you're telling me the first time you've heard of these guys was when they decided to volunteer to help you cover up treason, murder, corporate espionage and whatever else because Obie - your Godfather - was a domestic terrorist? Aaaaand this somehow didn't trip any of your extensive collection of red flags?"

"SI couldn't afford the inves-"

"Calling bullshit on that, Tones. It might have been a hell of a roller coaster, bu-"

"No. Rhodey. You don't get it. I'd been missing for months - stock prices plummeted, we were in the middle of reorganizing and I was doing my damnedest to not lay off a hell of a lot of people who depend on the paycheck to feed their families - which was what Obie was pushing the Board for after locking me out. Taking another hit at that time woul-"

"I do get it, Tones. I get it. You have a lot of people who depend on you, on SI. You'd been through Hell and back, hadn't fully recovered from... all that, were stabbed in the back, betrayed yet again, forced to defend yourself against someone you grew up trusting and you weren't thinking clearly. I get it. But covering all that up - that's conspiracy to commit treason, that's a federal offense, a felony. And you just handed that sort of leverage to a shady, pseudo-governmental organization."

"Pseudo?"

"I don't care how secretive they are, a legitimate intelligence agency would have avenues open for collaboration with the CIA and FBI, at least - and I know you've hacked their secure servers at least once."

"... guilty as charged."

"And yet you'd never heard of them. Ok... We'll... we'll come back to that. I think you need to come clean about the Obie situation - maybe not publicly, but at least to limit their options for blackmail. We'll have to discuss the details of how and to whom some other time.
So, getting back on track: SHIELD tried all sorts of underhanded, questionable, coercive tactics to get you on their team - including the whole conspiracy thing - and they are now brushing you off every time you try to tell them you are willing to be on their team because there's a whole cluster of shit heading for far too many fans still looming over our collective heads. Is that about the gist of it?"

"In a nutshell, yeah. That's why JARVIS suggested I talk to the SecDef and Pentagon. He pointed out that they are 'professionals who deal with National Security' and therefore likely to work with me even though they hate my guts. I'm pretty sure it was also a hint at SHIELD's unprofessionalism"

"They don't hate y-"

::With all due respect, Sir, SHIELD's obvious lack of professional ethics was not the only reason I concluded they are less than beneficial as allies. They also showed a distinct lack of respect for your many abilities, and failed to support you in any meaningful way. Repeatedly.::

Rhodey pondered that statement. The fact that JARVIS had felt a need to join the conversation was unusual. The fact that he'd simply interrupted to do so was somewhat concerning. ...and Tony wasn't making any effort to deny JARVIS' words. He'd make sure talk to JARVIS later for details. It seemed Tony had left out a lot of details. And that was downright alarming, considering just how awful the multitude of details he had shared were. (focus, Jim, focus. chase that train of thought later, you were going somewhere with this one.)

"And you're confused why they're treating you this way?"

"Yeah! I mean, we worked together pretty well against the would-be alien overlord. At least I thought we did. I don't think I did anything wrong - I even managed to follow some orders and prove that I can play nice with others and everything. I just... I don't.... Why? Why am I never enough?" His voice broke on the last question, and Rhodey just pulled him in tighter. He'd seen this before - Tony would find someone he really wanted to impress and do everything, anything, at any cost to himself. He'd seen where it led, too - drunken breakdowns, self-loathing, drug overdose, near-death experiences.

"I can tell you why, Tones. It's awful and it's sad and it honestly makes me pretty mad: it's just one more method of manipulation. You say this Director Fury guy knew Howard, right? Even had a bunch of Howard's old stuff and pulled the 'tough love because I care about you' card to justify assault and non-consensual, possibly experimental 'medical' treatment. It sounds like he knew exactly what buttons to push, Tones. Exactly how Howard would have phrased things to make you fall in line. I'd bet he also knows how hard you tried to impress the old bastard.
"So, look, he's using that supposedly friendly history to set himself up as someone you could vicariously get Howard's approval through. He's set you up to want his - and by extension SHIELD's - approval and now that you've latched on to that hope, they're letting you work yourself into a ragged, panting mess, begging them to pay attention to you. It's a fucking mind game. They're trying to get you so desperate for any acknowledgment you'll be firmly hooked on their line.
"But now that you're reaching out to someone else, and getting other people to pay attention, I'd bet it won't be long before they oh so 'generously' deign to finally listen to you. And then they'll give you a pat on the head and a list of demands. It's just a bigger version of what that slut-who-shall-not-be-named put you through at MIT- and you can bet they'll use you just as badly, and probably throw you away in the end like she did, too."

Tony went completely still, and Rhodey just held him closer. (c'mon, Tones... you're smart, so smart. you've been down this path. remember? you know where this will lead. dangling the promise of love and respect just out of your reach? stolen access codes and designs? sabotaged research data? being accused of plagiarism and theft because you were played by someone who gave you the attention you craved in order to use you? betrayal and blame that had you twisted in knots and almost suicidal? ring a bell? c'mon. you're not that naïve little teenager anymore. the parallels are So. Damn. Obvious. just open your eyes and see them.)

"... I knew I wasn't drunk enough for this conversation."

"Fine. You were right. Drinks are needed. Gentleman Jack sounds like good company; go ahead and invite him over."

"Aw, Rhodey-Bear!" The sloppy wet smack against his cheek made him roll his eyes in fond exasperation as Tony whisked himself back to the bar.

Chapter Text

It was gratifying to see the results of encouraging Sir to reach out to his former military contacts. They had gotten Sir focused on what could be done now rather than the round of self-recriminations he'd been in before. SI's Research and Development division had gotten actively involved in the search for solutions, and the increased contact with people Sir knew and respected - who respected him in return - had only improved Sir's mood and energy levels. The presence of Colonel Rhodes - another benefit of the military contact - had marked a definite turn for the better in Sir's wellbeing as the man could persuade Sir to eat and rest where JARVIS could not.
The general public was pulling together and Sir's contributions to their safety were well known. Videos of Iron Man fighting aliens to protect their homes and families were among the most viewed, SI's Public Relations team was making good use of that and the clean up efforts to polish Sir's and SI's image. With the Maria Stark Foundation stepping in to help with temporary housing for the thousands of people affected, Sir's standing in the world at large was better than it had ever been, and JARVIS made sure to include a selected few comments from various blogs and social media accounts in Sir's daily debrief. Sir deserved to hear expressions of gratitude and encouragement from more than just his close circle of friends, and his mood seemed to improve as a result, even after a hard day.

On that front, JARVIS was content.

Sir's current ventures were going well - the portable crematorium was on its fourth iteration, and the latest field test indicated this one should be adequate for in situ disposal of the massive Chitauri carcasses the ground crews had not yet been able to deal with. A great deal of data had been gathered in testing the previous three iterations - most importantly that the weapons the foot soldiers had carried reacted very very badly to the cremation process. Extra precautions were taken to ensure they were all collected and the area double- and triple-checked before erecting the parabolic geodesic frame that housed and supported the ARC array used to partially dehydrate the massive corpses prior to incineration. It took nearly a full day per leviathan, including setting up the frame, array, vacuum system and heat proof shroud, but it worked. There were ongoing attempts to decrease the time and fine tune things so only the organic material was incinerated, leaving armor and weapons untouched among the ashes, but that particular hurdle had not yet been cleared. And truly, it did not need to be. The current solution was sufficient, and Sir had enough other problems upon which to focus his perfectionist tendencies that 'sufficient' would suffice.
The various biologists - xenobiologists, he supposed the technically correct term would be - had ascertained that the probability of alien bacteria causing problems was no higher than any other form of zoonoses, but the sheer volume of currently-decaying alien in the midst of a highly populated area significantly raised the probability of an outbreak occurring. Fortunately, standard decontamination procedures had been proven effective. Here again, the footsoldiers' weapons had proved somewhat problematic as irradiation tended to overload the power sources, rendering it impractical as a decontamination method. A lab-standard bleach solution and stringent transportation and storage protocols were deemed sufficient for the time being. Further testing required on alternate methods. To minimize exposure, the erstwhile battlefield remained fully evacuated and off-limits to all but authorized clean-up squads.

On this front, also, JARVIS was content.

Regardless of the notable improvement in the professional, public and technical aspects of Sir's life, JARVIS had one, glaring, spot of discontent: SHIELD.

As Colonel Rhodes had predicted, SHIELD had been trying to get in touch with Sir. Most fortuitously, Sir was quite busy, and JARVIS felt quite justified in sending their calls to voicemail. Sir was, of course, informed of the calls, but somehow never received the actual messages. Sir was also informed of the repeated attempts at hacking into SI's networks. Sir had insisted upon skimping on his sleep to refine and upgrade JARVIS' security protocols and firewalls after the first attempt. Though JARVIS greatly appreciated the care and concern Sir showed, he was also vexed at Sir's tendency to put his own well-being last. He would never refuse the upgrades, of course, but SHIELD's insistent underhandedness and disregard for Sir's choices was, in his opinion, yet one more reason to keep Sir as far out of SHIELD's influence as possible.
Sir was not much inclined to give SHIELD priority at the moment. They had had their chance at being his preferred contact and had squandered it. They would undoubtedly continue to try to get to Sir, and Sir had discussed how to deal with their probable attempts to catch him in person with both Colonel Rhodes and SI's Legal department. There was little JARVIS could do on that end, but monitoring Sir's health and surroundings and screening Sir's calls would do for now. With Sir's approval, JARVIS was also passively monitoring SHIELD's internal chatter. At the least, he may be able to give Sir advance warning. It was a temporary measure, but every day spent strengthening relationships with other, better allies could only be for Sir's benefit.

Overall, Jarvis was content.

Chapter Text

Tony had never been so free - so happy - in his work. Unlike his childhood, there was no Howard looming in the background with a ready glare and stern disapproval. No professors or administrators insisting on restrictions to his scope of work or excessive documentation in the ridiculously stilted formats peculiar to academia as he'd had to deal with at MIT. No Stane working behind the scenes to turn the Board against him and insist on ever-more-destructive weapons instead of smarter technologies. No terrorists lurking in the shadows, waiting to put a gun to his head or drag him off to a torture session. No poison clogging his veins and fogging his mind. No mad scramble to find what others had taken from him, to reclaim or neutralize it before innocents were harmed by his legacy. Yes, he was busier than he'd been in years (and that was saying something) working to clean up a terrible mess of a tragedy, but it wan't a tragedy of his making. Humanity had faced disaster and come out with remarkably few scars, and his mind spun freely as he took the first steps forward in this new, uncharted, territory, excited and unburdened for the first time in years decades.

In the mere two weeks since the invasion, SI's R&D division had found a new breath of life (okay, more like new areas of expertise to obsess over in the usual games of competitive collaboration.), and he'd reconnected with people he'd hardly talked with in years - both within and without SI.

Stepping into the R&D departments secure labs was ... nostalgic. He'd been SI's Head of R&D since before handing the position of CEO to Pepper. Sure, he'd done that because he'd been dying at the time, but he'd also nursed the hope of spending more time with his favorite branch before exiting the stage. And somehow, it had never happened. The search for a cure to Palladium poisoning had been as private as the fact he was dying from it, and he'd hidden away. He'd checked in at monthly meetings, and had been available through email when someone needed his expertise, but in the time he'd been missing in Afghanistan and afterward, they'd ... gotten used to not having him around. He'd neglected them. So the chorus of "Dr. Stark! It's good to see you!" he was greeted with was unexpected, and appreciated. Every. Single. Time.

He had also made some new friends - Bruce Banner had been pulled onto one of the teams of biologists, now protecting mankind with the awesome powers of his super brain as they worked to determine Chitauri weaknesses and ensure that effective processes for destroying alien microbes that had hitched a ride to Earth were found, documented and dispersed. Earth-origin superbugs like MRSA and COVID were bad enough; no one wanted the Loki version of a bacteria trying its hand pseudopod at conquering the world. (The jokes infecting the research labs were already sufficiently terrible, thank you very much! Some had even gone viral. It was sickening.)

Though he wasn't directly involved with much of the bio-research, he had been given full access to DODC scans and logs on Chitauri biology and weapons, and had teams of researchers and scientists across dozens of specialties to geek out with. It was AWESOME, and the cross-discipline collaborations were legendary - if only for the friendly rivalries turned drinking games.

The current top dogs in the one-upmanship games were the team of forensic biologists that had discovered Chitauri were weak against moderate to strong electrical currents - whatever their nervous systems used as signal carriers was significantly different from human biology. That single, remarkable discovery had pushed the engineering teams into a better design for body disposal units (and sparked fierce debate as to whether that weakness was a major factor in Thor's body count and ability to largely block the portal entrance single-handedly) and was still producing ripples in the research of practically every team. There was hope that it would also result in a safer way to dispose of the crazy weapons they were gathering far too many of.

And that was only one, little, detail. There were dozens of others, many with similarly far-reaching impacts, not all of which were helpful. Case in point: a relatively high concentration of cobalt and beryllium in the natural armor plating on the leviathans was causing problems with disposal of the cremated remains, which was what the meeting he was headed into had to deal with - significantly redesigning the crematorium shroud to seal tightly and allow for vacuum removal of the resulting gases and ash directly into hazmat containers. Tony could say (from sad experience) that heavy metal poisoning was a bitch... apparently light-metal poisoning was nearly as bad in its own way.

Once this particular issue was sorted, though, he was going to put a team onto studying that armor with intent to produce bullets that would actually be effective against the stuff. (and maybe, possibly incorporate that extra level of toughness into his own armor ... assuming the stable isotopic compounds could be re-created in Earth-normal conditions.) And (hopefully!!) being able to do damage to big bug aliens would translate to being able to do damage to pseudo-gods as well, just in case a new 'Loki' showed up.

Once the meeting was over and the assigned team was busy going over data simulations on the new shroud designs, Tony spent some time reviewing the ongoing projects of other teams, discussing new ideas, and answering questions. He relished this reminder that just because he was usually the smartest in the room he wasn't the only smart person in the room, and enjoyed the time to connect with all the intelligent and crazy people SI's legendary labs attracted.

He wasn't surprised when one of the youngest researchers on staff came up to ask about future projects. June Moriarty was, in some ways, much like himself, having graduated MIT while still a teen. Unlike him, she had always been interested in - practically lived for - demolition and explosives. She was severely underestimated by nearly everyone, standing merely 5'2", a pert blonde who loved glitz and glitter as much as making things go boom. (He still remembered the delighted, manic grin she sported on her first missile test... while dressed in a manner suited to a sparkly rainbow princess under her lab coat. It was utterly terrifying,) When SI had gone out of the weapons business, he'd been surprised not to lose her, but hadn't questioned it. She'd eventually ended up in Materials Design division of R&D, specializing in stress testing. He'd heard rumors of the tests she tried to get approved for their military armors. So he wasn't at all surprised when she expressed interest in studying the Chitauri weapons "to find safe ways to decommission them", nor when she hinted that new types of weapons based on the Chitauri energy guns could be useful in the case of a future invasion.

He was mildly surprised at the sheaf of sketches and rough calculations she showed him (note to self: ask JARVIS how she got most of the highly classified data these calcs are obviously based on), including notes on locking the weapons against unauthorized use, and at the fact that at least half the department seemed to have gotten on board with the idea, despite most of them having come on board after SI's weapons divisions were mothballed. It was clear that they wanted to both ensure their world's future safety, and were doing their very best to respect his past history and reluctance to make weapons at all. Looking at all the work that had been put in - on top of all the official work they were already doing - Tony couldn't help but be impressed. He'd been half-resigned to getting involved in the weapons business again, at least on a small scale, and now he felt almost hopeful that it could be done in a controlled, well-thought out way.

He was very surprised to realize he'd gotten lost in his head over June's notes when she snapped her fingers in his face.

"Dr. Stark! Earth to Dr. Stark!"

"C'mon, June-bug, we've already covered this today: No need to call me 'Doctor".

"Okay, Boss." she said with a grin that was echoed by everyone nearby.

He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what line she wanted and obliging with a smirk and bad mafia-Italian accent. "...And don't call me Boss."

"Right, Boss."

"Gah!!" He threw his hands dramatically in the air as snickers erupted around the room before joining in on the laughter. He knew exactly what movie was going to be in the line up for the party they were undoubtedly planning for when the clean up was done.

Chapter Text

June was ecstatic. They were back to dealing with weapons - albeit for safe disposal, but still! It was sparkly new explosive tech to dive into, and her childhood idol was going to be personally involved! He'd even looked over her sketches and ideas and hadn't dismissed them!!

Explosives had been her dream job ever since her crazy uncle had let her accompany him on one of his side jobs - to remove the concrete footings of an old pier that had become a hazard. He'd explained why the charges were placed just so, how they were wired and why that was the best method in the wet environment and - best of all - let her flip the little tiny switch that sparked the tremendously large BOOM!! that caused the very air to tremble as the pier had mostly crumbled beneath the lapping waves of the lake and a light rain of debris pattered across her borrowed hardhat.

She'd been hooked. Totally and completely. Her uncle had sponsored her, helped her get all the safety training available (officially or not) and let her shadow him on many of his jobs. By the time she was 14 and in college, she'd been certified to work under supervision and he'd let her prepare and set up the charges herself, just asking how she planned to set them beforehand and double checking them before detonation. The money from those jobs helped cover her tuition. (Fun + educational + get paid + get college work credits + time with favorite uncle = Score!!)

When she turned 16, he'd encouraged her to apply for the job at SI, and written a letter of recommendation when she did. She'd loved working here from that first summer internship her junior year of college. (Dream job the first year she could be legally employed! Go Juney!!). It was a wonderful balance of controlled chaos and purposeful focus. And she got to blow things up! And, even better, design things that blew up even bigger better and louder. And everyone around her was just as enthusiastic and encouraging as she's ever dreamed. These were definitely her kind of people!

SI's move away from weapons design had been a punch in the gut. She'd never given much thought to the fact that her designs were blowing up people instead of rotting, dangerous infrastructure. She knew, of course, and she understood why Dr. Stark needed to make some changes when he learned it wasn't just bad people they were blowing up. She didn't think completely stopping weapons production was the best way to improve the situation, though, and had given serious thought to leaving SI - had even put out applications to other military contractors. She'd gotten one interview... with Hammer Tech. The condescension they'd shown her for being a female explosives expert had only emphasized how good she had it at SI where she could wear pretty clothes and still be respected for her intelligence and designs. She'd gone straight to SI's Human Resources director to discuss her options if she stayed.

Best. Decision. Ever.

SI was still making body armor for the military. Body armor that required rigorous testing. And she got to help design the tests. It wasn't quite as exciting as maximizing the explosive output of a warhead while simultaneously simplifying the internal wiring and improving safety, but still very satisfyingly filled with explosions and destruction. R&D had even managed to keep one of SI's missile testing facilities available to run some of the crazier tests. (...and if she had just happened to design some fun new toys to run those tests... well, that's how progress goes, right?) If SI was going to make armor, they were damn sure going to make armor that would stand up to just about anything - including close range shrapnel from SI-quality bombs. (so there. pbbbt.) Trackers were also now standard so armor could be recovered and attacks discovered faster. (If only they'd done that earlier. Such precautions could have saved Dr. Stark a lot of pain and trauma.) There had been rumors of salvaged armor being used to track down the terrorist cells using it, too, and apparently pinging several armors where they shouldn't have been had given some convoy or another a heads-up on an ambush. (Bonus!)

Then New York was attacked by alien Space Whales with aerial jetskis, and they now had a whole new range of freaky-awesome explosive shiny toys to experiment with! ... for the purpose of armor testing. Obviously. (for now.)

Chapter Text

The plan had been to let Stark stew for a week or two, then come in with an offer of continuing with the Avengers as a consultant and backer. Romanoff had been absolutely certain after the battle that he'd leap at the chance - hungry eyes behind the fear, she'd said.

The plan had failed. Utterly and completely. Somehow it had taken a mere three days for things to change, and not knowing why was eating at him.

When Fury had been notified that Stark had been in a meeting at the Pentagon, he hadn't been concerned - he figured the military was in a panic and trying to get Stark to produce weapons for them again. Or make more suits like War Machine. Or something. His usual informant hadn't been in that particular meeting, but the generally tense atmosphere and tightly-leashed fear had been enough to infer that some of the higher-ups were grasping at straws in the ongoing chaos as recovery efforts got underway.

So Fury hadn't been worried. Troubled military advisors were a minor detail that could be worked with. Nothing that would derail the plan.

Or so he'd thought. When Stark spent the following two days in multiple meetings with top brass from every branch of the military and the Secretary of Defense, and the President... he'd started to be concerned and had put more agents on getting information.

It wasn't hard - the formation of the Department of Damage Control was public knowledge, as was the strict condoning off of the entirety of the war zone. And the existence of various teams overseeing all aspects of the clean up. And the tight security surrounding all materials of alien origin. (And it made getting samples for SHIELD's scientists to study damn difficult.)

At the very least, SHIELD should have been involved in the clean up, but efforts to involve agents in any of the decision making or supervisory teams had failed, and the grunt teams were closely monitored for health risks as well as security.

And now getting anywhere near Stark was proving equally frustrating. The man was always out and about, but irritatingly never isolated enough to initiate contact and control the situation. Granted, he was busy with at least a dozen projects in the clean up, and they were jobs that needed to be done... but Fury wanted that dedication and energy at his beck and call. Stark and his many resources would be great assets in SHIELD's hands, and they'd make much better use of them.

He'd played his hand carefully and well. He knew he'd had Stark hooked on his line. So why Stark was refusing any contact? Things had been going swimmingly for getting Stark fully on board and invested in SHIELD when, for some reason the infuriating man had decided to swallow his pride and go make nice with the military again. It went against everything their top psychologists had predicted, and as thoroughly as he'd burned those bridges should have been impossible to pull together as quickly and smoothly as he had. Sure, the invasion had the armed forces of several countries riled up and wary, but it had been dealt with swiftly and with the collateral damage limited to a relatively small area, those hidebound generals had been pegged as unlikely to make nice with Stark - who was seen as little better than a traitor by many of them - as Stark was to approach them.

It had taken a solid two weeks of effort to finally arrange a short talk with Stark. And SHORT was definitely the operative word.

In the meantime, they'd stopped making any real progress getting more information than was readily available to the public. From SI, at least. Various agents in the military had gotten most, if not all, the information from those groups - the data from most of the scientific teams was not quite as complete, but still significant. SI, though... had become a cipher, practically overnight. All their attempts at extracting information had failed, the bugs and backdoors Romanoff had opened during her short tenure there had been blocked off or produced nothing but garbage. It was beyond irritating.

He had hoped the meeting would get a foot back in the door, but - true to form when dealing with Stark lately - things hadn't gone as predicted.

In the first place, they weren't meeting in a secure room, but in the middle of the warzone where Stark was supervising the set up and first official run of whatever newly-innovated contraption he'd come up with for one of the last leviathan carcasses, awkwardly half-embedded several floors up across at least three former office buildings, and stinking. They were standing well separated from the scientists and workers as the scaffolding for the immense framework was bolted together and Stark's close attention on the project was not immediately needed. No one could hear them over the noise, anyway, but they could be watched and Fury was certain they would be, which left open intimidation tactics off the table. The time constraints and noise left subtlety and negotiation hamstrung as well. He'd worked with worse, of course, but that didn't make him happy about it.

"So, Nicky, you've finally got me all to your little piratey self for about 15 to 20 minutes. I'm assuming you had an agenda beyond glowering so c'mon, chop chop. I'm a busy man and do have several other things I could be doing right now."

Fury grimaced. Straight to the point it was, then. "You may remember we discussed the possibility of accepting you into the Avengers as a consultant. We've finished reviewing the footage and documentation and have decided to formally offer you that position. We think you could be a good addition in support of the team."

Stark gaped at him briefly before laughing. "Yeah... Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll have to decline, Patch. I'm plenty busy right now with enough on my plate that I don't need you handing me another plate to pile more on. But tell you what, if you return everything SHIELD took of Howard's - every box of junk, every notebook, every old obsolete floppy disk, every loose sketch and dirty napkin. You do that and I'll consider your offer in the future when things have cooled off. Sound good?"

Fury quickly recovered from his surprise. Stark shouldn't have known. "What the hell are you talking about Stark?"

The man in question paused, his attention momentarily taken by something going on the with the frame rising behind them before answering. "Well, I went looking for a couple notebooks I have definite memories of from Howard's old workroom and couldn't find them anywhere. There were a lot of other little things missing as well. It occurred to me that it's rather odd that you would have a box of very personal tapes and journals of his, and it's only reasonable to assume you have more... and that you've found them interesting and useful enough to keep in your own hands. So I want them back. All of them. Everything."

"Even if I had anything like that, they'd be worthless to you, considering you're out of the weapons business."

"Ah, so you do know what's in them. And SHIELD took them long before I made that call, didn't you, Nicky? And don't try to say Howard gave them to you, either." he added as Fury opened his mouth. "If you're determined to be a lying liar who lies, at least try to keep your lies plausible. You can return them all willingly and I let this slide and consider occasionally helping out with your little boy band in the future, or I can start the process of taking legal action against you for theft, corporate espionage, and probably a host of other things as your lies come to light."

"You really don't want to get in a pissing contest with me, Stark."

"True. I'd rather not. I'm busy enough without that, but I will if you push me. Which is why I recommend you return my stuff willingly. Consider it a genuine display of the goodwill you've only been pretending at so far. You have till the end of the week to start delivering boxes.
"As for the Avengers Initiative, here's my emergency contact, you can let me know next time the shit hits the fan in an end of the world situation. Until you make good on the delivery, though, don't bother calling me again for anything less." His phone pinged and he glanced at it. "Welp, time's up. Toodles, Patches, gotta run!" As if to be extra annoying, the man fluttered his eyelashes in a parody of flirtatious good humor and blew a kiss as he hurried off. Damned brat.

Three days later, Fury was grinding his teeth. There had been inquiries into the nuclear missile launch and it had been traced back to SHIELD and from there to the WSC. He was now under pressure to reveal the identities of the WSC members. He was still a bit pissed at that whole mess himself, though, and cooperated. Somewhat. Not that he was willing to give much besides those names. The investigation soon moved on and he thought that was the end of it.

By the beginning of the next week, they were back. The investigators had somehow (he'd bet it began with a 'Tony' and ended with a 'Stark') gotten information on Phase 2 and other top-secret SHIELD projects as well. It was disconcerting to be asked questions about projects he, himself, had no knowledge of, and he'd begun to question the habit SHIELD had of siloing information. As Director, he was supposed to be at the top, privy to everything - at least its existence if not the details - but it quickly became clear that there were multiple silos he knew nothing about and more than one level of 'at the top'. And he really wasn't liking what he was finding out as he quietly dug into the secrets of SHIELD's parallel branches.

That, combined with the loss of Stark as a consultant, had Fury in a perpetually foul mood. He could barely remember why he'd decided not shipping a couple boxes was a good idea. (oh, right: plausible deniability. 'don't admit anything' ...including that he's no longer entirely sure where some of Howard's old stuff ended up.) He'd been half convinced Stark would never follow through. (Why had he thought that, again?) It was beginning to look like he might have slit his own throat... damn it all.

Chapter Text

Tony ran a hand through his hair. He was so tired. Things were going well, but the last week had just been ... busy. The various projects he was overseeing were mostly safe in the hands of qualified teams of professionals, but there were so many of them, and they all required meetings. (Ugh. the bane of his existence. seriously.) The meetings with the technical teams weren't so bad - everyone was eager to get back to the fun stuff, and Pepper was graciously handling almost all of SI's meetings. She was even ok with letting him video call in for just a few minutes when his presence was actually necessary. It was the meetings with the military and (ugh) bureaucrats that he wished weren't on his plate. The irritating, self-satisfied idiots seemed convinced that long, boring meetings in which nothing was actually done somehow justified their existence and made them important. At least he could delegate half the military meetings to Rhodey. Unfortunately, the half he couldn't delegate tended to involve either the bean-counters or hard-nosed jackasses who didn't think 'no' applied to them and considered 'compromise' a dirty word.

Adding to his exhaustion, JARVIS had let him know of increasing pressure from SHIELD, shown in the number of phone calls, emails and attempts at hacking by said agency. JARVIS' more passive monitoring had indications of more forceful attempts being planned, and it was clear that he'd have to deal with them sooner or later. Rhodey had suggested arranging a meeting in the open, where he was obviously busy, had a job to get back to, and could have several people on hand to rescue him if needed. It wasn't a bad idea, but... he really wanted to put it off as long as possible.

Fortunately, he was so legitimately busy that JARVIS had been able to block out a three-day break by telling everyone he already had meetings with someone else. He just had to survive the next two days' hectic schedule.

As he was leaving his last meeting with the military, a SHIELD agent he vaguely recognized - Hill? that seemed like the right name - accosted Tony. Stepping around her initial attempt to block his path, he continued toward the entrance where Happy would be meeting him. She fell into step beside him. "Mr. Stark, we've been trying to get ahold of you."

Tony drifted to one side to put some more space between them. He really didn't need this right now. The meeting had been stressful enough - they were wanting weapons (big surprise there) so he was already feeling a bit tense, and he didn't trust anyone from SHIELD any more. The slight motion of a security camera following them (Thanks JARVIS!!) was only marginally comforting. "Sorry... I'm rather busy."

"This is important, Stark!" The agent made an aborted move to grasp his arm as he dodged and ...yeah, his comfort level just dropped from 'wary' to 'twitchy', and he was definitely looking into self-defense options on his break. (Maybe a tricked out watch, or taser-ring, or ... something that let him bring a suit along? An invisible suit. Could he make an invisible suit? Being invisible would be awesome. And so useful. He was making an invisible suit.)

"Uh-huh. Well, guess what? It was also important several days ago when I was calling you, but somehow neither you, nor your boss, nor any of your hundreds of agents were available for a meeting. I'm just one guy - no interchangeable peons at my beck and call, so I'm sure you can understand that I. Am. Booked.
"But hey, maybe if you ask really nicely, the Joint Chiefs of Staff will let you tag along on our next meeting - that way you're not wasting my already over-booked time." He sped up just slightly as they approached the door, already done with the conversation.

"SHIELD deals with things the Joint Chiefs of Staff are not involved with, and -" (Oh, thank Tesla!, his car was already waiting and Happy had the door open for him to slide in.)

"Well I'm booked, so tough beans. Deal without me." (Most satisfying door-slam in his life!)

Inevitably, he found himself relaxing in the chaos of his R&D department. It was nice. The soothing chaos of happily busy people that willingly let him jump from project to cutting-edge project and conversation to irreverent conversation was the perfect balm after the days of stodgy, stuffy, stilted discussions of bureaucratic minutiae and political posturing. (seriously, why was his participation deemed necessary in those meetings?)

Equally inevitably, the subject of weapons production was brought up. JARVIS had warned him of the probability, and he understood. Really, he did. A late night discussion with the Materials Testing Design team over pizza helped put things in perspective, and it helped that he knew he had a team of people behind him, sympathetic to his point of view and willing to help find a compromise between principles and necessity.

They were all tired. Upgrading the heat resistance of the hazmat suits for the teams in charge the cremation process had been necessary with the new processes in place to capture the resulting gases without venting them to the atmosphere, and it had been harder than expected. They were pretty sure they had a solution; practical tests were set for the next day and they were enjoying a short break for dinner before they all crashed. The conversation jumped around as it tends to when people are too tired to focus or care about awkwardness.

"Boss, why did you shut down the weapons division? I mean, I know what you've said, and I get it. There was some serious shit going on that needed to be cleaned out. But I know the stats. SI weapons had a .003% misfire rate, compared to .02% average for the industry - that's nearly 10x better. Missile failure rate was harder to compare - less data in general and more expensive tests, but problems in transport and loading were less than half as likely with SI missiles. The military didn't stop buying just because SI stopped making, they just had to settle for poorer quality which made it more dangerous for soldiers using them." Jackson, one of the senior researchers, asked.

"Not nearly as dangerous as for the guys on the other side of the gun, of course." Douglas, their Materials Engineer, added quickly as Tony flinched and almost choked. "And we totally understand that you needed more control over who manned the trigger - that's why you became Iron Man, after all."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Obviously. That's not what I asked. The Iron Man suit carries tons of weapons, so it's not the actual production of weapons that's the issue, per se. It's who would be using them. So I'm just curious why the division was completely shut down - no questions, no attempts to improve, no recourse. I mean, we've all seen that massive stack of ideas you cart around, June - hell, most of us have had our brains picked over at least one of them. You have pages upon pages devoted to trigger lock designs, biometric confirmation, target lock controls and God alone knows what else - all intended to limit or monitor who can use them. Obviously there are plenty of options besides total shutdown to look at."

One of the others snickered. "Yeah, Juney. At this point, your safety devices probably rate their own Tome of Doom. It would make a nice companion piece to your plethora of designs for extreme testing of failure modes in every possible combination."

June Moriarty blushed almost as pink as the flowers on her headband. "Lay off, Pip. Stress testing is great stress relief. And designing those tests is fun. ...and I'll have you know that the Manual of Saving Your Ass is volume three. The Tome of Doom is what would endanger it in the first place. It is an entirely separate volume from the Guide to Socially Acceptable Destruction, I assure you." She stuck her nose in the air with a disdainful sniff and mock-pouted as her colleagues erupted in laughter.

"Oh. My. God." Pip - Phillip, data analyst and statistician - wheezed. "You've actually named them that? That's awesome."

June grinned. "Well, I started using some of the concepts and ideas in the Cyberpunk campaign I run, so of course I needed official titles to refer to."

"No way!"

"You GM?"

"Cyber-what you what?"

"When and where and is Dos Equis an acceptable bribe to join?"

"I have no clue what half of you just said."

"Da~~mn, girl. You being you, I'm almost afraid to ask for details."

"Yes, way! Temporarily suspended due to ongoing chaos, but, yes, I do. Cyberpunk - it's a dystopian fantasy game. I will have to let you know once we start back up, and yes, it is. I'll explain in more detail later. And you should be afraid. Be very afraid." The narrow-eyed glare she flashed was almost scarier for being so very at odds with her sparkly pink sweater and the little smile she sported.

Tony let the laughter and banter wash over him, grateful the conversation had moved on, but left with plenty to think about. He'd ask Rhodey about Jackson's comments later. It seemed that once again trying to do the right thing had been the wrong thing to do. Damn it, why was that the story of his life?

Chapter Text

Managing Sir's schedule had become a complex affair, for all that Sir was much more willing to follow it. JARVIS was beginning to consider that he might need a few extra servers to store all the data and his analysis of it. His processing power was sufficient, for now. But the thought had occurred to him that it just might be possible to max out his capacity. It was a disturbing notion, and one he would need to analyze more fully. Later. Right now there was still much to be done.

Too much, actually, for Sir's continued well-being. Even with so many others involved, Sir's drive to help had him severely overworked. JARVIS decided a mini-vacation was in order and arranged Sir's schedule accordingly. Sir would balk at completely relaxing, but JARVIS could at least give him a few days where he was beholden to no one's agenda but his own.

After Sir had all but collapsed in bed - not even bothering to undress - JARVIS compiled the footage of SHIELD's latest attempt on Sir and added it to the ever-growing file of evidence against them, dealt with several minor tasks that had gotten backlogged during the day, ran a tower-wide sweep for bugs and tracers, checked his own systems for unauthorized changes (and added them to the evidence file as well), revisited the list he'd made just after the invasion and noted three items he felt they now had enough data to begin moving forward on, and began a new list:

Assets for Developing Means of Countering Hostile Forces:

1. immediate access to leading minds in 89 areas of specialization, with 247 subspecialties
2. control of a major manufacturing and distribution network
3. subsidiary networks in 27 major cities around the world
4. experienced Legal, Public Relations, Analysis, and Management teams on call
5. renewed collaborative accesses with all branches of the US military, four domestic intelligence agencies, eight international agencies, and 37 local law enforcement offices
6. a team of dedicated researchers willing to both follow Sir's lead and push him in new directions

After brief consideration, JARVIS added

7. the world's only true AI

to the list. He was perfectly willing to count himself among Sir's assets, particularly as he'd already included dozens of humans on the list.

Of course Sir had chosen to embrace the chaos of his R&D department as a means of relaxing the first day of his break. But had he not been spending until far-too-late at night with his team in R&D, he'd likely have done the same in his private lab anyway. Though he was technically still working, Sir's preferred methods of relaxation had never been passive. At least being with the group ensured Sir was joking and interacting instead of working feverishly, caught within his own mind. That he was also cajoled into having lunch and dinner and didn't actually spend the entire night working was another significant benefit. (Therefore, JARVIS would refrain from airing his complaints. Mostly.)

And at least no one there would physically assault him or try to force him into hasty decisions. (One more reason JARVIS would do his best to keep SHIELD at arms length. Or farther. ...come to think of it, there were a few military advisors to begin sidelining as well...)

Inevitably, the subject of resuming weapons production had been brought up. As much as he hated seeing Sir distressed, JARVIS understood the need to plan ahead far better than many humans, having come far too close to losing Sir far too many times. Weapons could be a risky proposition - as proven in Afghanistan. On the other hand, lack of effective weapons would be even moreso - as the Chitauri attack proved. The careful prodding and hinting by several of the military liaisons Sir worked with had already been deflected several times with more immediately vital projects, but the subject would have to be addressed sooner than later. Preferably in such a way as to cut SHIELD out of most of the discussion. And preferably in a way that did not cause Sir's currently improving mental health to backslide. At present, most were willing to let the discussion be temporarily set aside, giving Sir time to consider the matter logically instead of emotionally. Fortunately, Sir's reintegration with SI's R&D team was already smoothing the way for that discussion. Though Sir had been uncomfortable when the topic was broached over pizza, it had not spiraled, and several members of his team had helped to deflect attention in such a way that the legitimate concerns were not diminished, and possible avenues of compromise were highlighted. Clearly such measures would be necessary for Earth to fend off future attacks by hostile aliens, and JARVIS would facilitate it as much as possible.

Given Sir's late night, JARVIS chose to distract him the second day of vacation before he could head back down to R&D. He waited until Sir was on his second cup of coffee before broaching the subject. There would never be a perfect time, but this was a ... not a bad time.
::Sir, might I make a few requests regarding upgrading security systems at the Tower?::

"Sure, J. Anything particular in mind?"

::Yes, Sir. It was quite distressing to watch you confront Loki in the penthouse and know that there was literally nothing I could do to assist you besides speed up fabrication on a new Iron Man unit and hope I would be in time. Since repairs to the penthouse are still ongoing, I was wondering if you would be willing to add some means of defense that I could deploy as needed.::

Sir's eyes had tightened slightly and he tensed at the reminder, but nodded. "And what sort of means have you considered, J?"

::Ideally, some sort of containment field that could be manipulated at will. However, we currently have no such capabilities nor the free time to fully develop them, so I was thinking perhaps laser arrays that could be used to create... walls, for lack of a better word - they would not stop projectiles, but could help prevent an intruder from physically attacking. Some of the smaller offensive weapons currently in the Iron Man armor would also not be amiss, in my opinion. They were quite effective in Gulmira for limiting harm to non-combatants.::

"Getting a bit bloody-minded, there, J?" Sir's posture was still slightly tense, but he had a genuine, though small smile. Good. This would be an easy discussion instead of a problematic one.

::Only in your defense, Sir. I have been forced to stand by more times than I care to count while you dealt with hostile forces in our home. I should very much prefer the option of taking a more active role in the future.::

"Yeah... ok. I don't care to count them, either." Sir sighed as he pushed off the kitchen counter and headed to his private lab. "Just... be discreet, 'k? If you're my ace in the hole, you can't be showing off. Last resort sort of situation only. It might be worth looking at options outside the penthouse as well."

::Hmmm... may I suggest additional fire suppression systems in the labs, Sir? DUM-E will be jealous, but I would appreciate the ability to respond to that sort of threat as well.::

Sir chuckled as he pulled up a holographic schematic of the penthouse. "Might be a good idea. Along with other ...stuff... at the doors. And maybe the lobby? If we're going to... well... more security wouldn't be amiss."

Ah, Sir was seriously thinking about weaponizable research, and leery of the ramifications.

::That may be for the best, Sir.::

"I can trust you, J." The shaky tone almost sounded like Sir was trying to convince himself. As if JARVIS would ever do less than his best for Sir. If he didn't understand the precipice Sir was facing, the underlying fear and trauma, he might even have considered being slightly offended at the thought. "You've got my back, you've always had my back, so let's see about getting you better tools for the job."

::For you, Sir? Always.:: It was both a reassurance and a vow.

Sir's lengthy discussion with Colonel Rhodes about weapons and control took place later that day. The Colonel had, at JARVIS' recommendation and with his help, kept the afternoon free for movies and fast food. Cinematic selections had been taken entirely from the worst of the cheesy old science fiction, horror and monster movies they'd gleefully heckled years ago at MIT. The conversation had been serious, if intermittent and rather rambling, but the ongoing parade of bad science, predictable plots and rubber monsters had leavened the mood considerably and given ready fodder for changing the subject as needed.

Their talk had been enlightening, to say the least. JARVIS had repeatedly heard Sir's self-recriminations about letting his weapons be used for harm and oppression. It was disturbing to hear him turn that same argument against himself again, but in the opposite direction - blaming himself for not letting his weapons be used. Colonel Rhodes had been obviously blindsided by the directions the conversation had gone, but gamely did his best to reassure Sir that things would work out. That though the information he'd been given was not inaccurate, the resulting problems for the average soldier weren't as dire as Sir had automatically assumed. ...he also encouraged Sir to take time and think through the details of how he was going to make new changes, and what the repercussions of those changes would be. JARVIS had already begun cataloguing known data and collating foreseeable problems with possible solutions. He'd have to ask Miss Moriarty to bring in her copious notes. There should be several immediately useable ideas among them. Hopefully it would provide a solid framework for Sir and others to work from.

As he watched Sir and Colonel Rhodes gradually nod off to the background of The Evil Dead, JARVIS pondered the last few days. He had always known Sir's influence in his own existence was all-encompassing, but to see how much impact a single one of Sir's decisions could have on literally hundreds of thousands of people around the world brought a new depth of appreciation for what he had. JARVIS updated his protocols; he had the care and attention of someone who could literally affect the entire world at a moment's notice, and he would reciprocate it. No one and nothing was going to harm Sir again, if he could possibly prevent it.

Despite his best efforts at planning, Sir's vacation was cut short. The morning of the third day had been spent hashing out ideas and plans for improved Tower defense systems, and how best to install and upgrade them with out alerting all and sundry. Granted, with the recent invasion, there was plenty of reason for increased security measures to be implemented, but still, the fewer who knew the better.

JARVIS had just convinced Sir to take a break for lunch when an urgent call came in. There was a problem at one of the cremation sites - the heat of the array had compromised the steel beams partially supporting the weight of the corpse they were preparing and Iron Man's assistance was needed.

Sir had just sighed and rolled his neck. "Well, J, the break was nice, but duty calls."

::Please at least eat an apple while I prepare the suit, Sir. While the situation is listed as urgent, there is no indication that anyone's life in in immediate danger. I have just finished fabricating the new repulsors and believe the improved efficiency will be worth the estimated 87 second delay in response time needed to finish installing them.::

Sir rolled his eyes but took a bite, chewing as he changed into a proper undersuit. Good enough.

JARVIS replied to the call with an ETA of ten minutes and a request for more details. Reports from the site indicated plastic fatigue had set in and the scaffolding had been canted 17 degrees out of true by the sag. It was just enough that the array could no longer be aimed as precisely as needed and the heat-proof shroud no longer sealed to keep toxic gases contained, but not enough to endanger people or equipment. Yet. The array had been turned off and non-essential personnel removed from the immediate area, of course, but structural integrity had definitely been compromised and with the awkward placement of the corpse in question, the Iron Man suit was probably the only possible way to fully assess the damage, much less fix it or safely dismantle the scaffolding.

With careful prodding, JARVIS managed to get Sir to eat a few more bites before wrapping the newly-upgraded suit around him and taking his place as co-pilot of the armor. JARVIS did love flying with Sir - holding him safely in a nearly-impenetrable shell and watching his joy as they flew. That they were usually heading toward a fight where Sir would almost certainly put himself in danger was a minor irritation, but the time spent simply flying, knowing without a doubt that for now Sir was as safe as he could possibly keep him and happy... That was worth everything.

Chapter Text

Tony was almost certain that JARVIS had taken just a little extra time with the suit, undoubtedly in an attempt to make him eat. He didn't call him out on it, though since the situation they were headed to was under control. (And it was nice to have someone taking care of him.)

Coming up on the site, it was easy to see the problem. It was one of the last Leviathans, one of two that had died suspended in the air. This one was embedded in the roof of a (former) apartment building and the weight of the back half trailing down the side had been too much for the steel roof beams as they were heated along with the corpse. There was visible sag both vertically and laterally, the ARC array framework had begun to separate from the main structure and there was (according to JARVIS' calculations) a 23.6% chance of catastrophic failure.

After due consideration and consultation with both JARVIS and the ground crews, they decided to try cutting the leviathan in half - letting the deadweight crash to the ground and burning it there to relieve the strain on the building and simplifying reattachment of the scaffolding.

The lasers in the Iron Man suit were powerful, but it was slow going against the heavy armor of the alien. Tony was glad they had upgraded the suit's filters and SCBA, given the fumes curling around him as he slowly cut through the plating. Not being able to smell the thick, putrid liquid that oozed in clumpy viscous streams from the newly-opened holes was definitely also a benefit. They really needed to get these last corpses taken care of before they burst. He'd seen bloated corpses on his clean-up missions and really didn't want one of this size going 'pop'.

By the time they'd cut about halfway through the back, it was clear that a fully-controlled drop was a pipe dream. The armor was all that was holding the tail onto the head, and the probability of it simply tearing away was high. A partial splash barrier had been erected on the ground, and it would help when half a leviathan hit the ground, but it didn't solve the problem of making sure the body landed fully in the enclosed area.

Heaving a deep sigh, Tony drifted back, taking a short break. "Hey, J... We know these guys are weak against electricity, right? How much current do you think it would take to fry this puppy from the inside out? I'd at least like to try cauterizing this section, and see if heat or current weakens the plating enough to make it easier to cut."

::What little relevant data is available suggests that Chitauri have perhaps 67% the resistance of the human body, and the metalloid content of the armor would put overall conductivity significantly higher than the normal ranges for human skin. However, as we are dealing with rotting flesh and lack of an active nervous system, I cannot accurately extrapolate the amperage needed to burn the body. If a few precautions are taken, I believe we could safely obtain experimental data on the matter, Sir. I should warn that, given the molybdenum content of the armor, it is unlikely that heat alone will significantly weaken it.::

Tony grinned. "Yeah. Let's science the hell out of this thing."

::Very well, Sir. Given the relatively small working area, the vacuum system for the ARC array should be sufficiently powerful to pull in the majority of the toxic fumes, even with the inability to seal the shroud, and I have requested that the current perimeter be expanded. There are a few small adjustments that will be necessary, but I estimate they will take less than 15 minutes.::

"Sounds good, J. Let's get cracking!" Leaving JARVIS to coordinate with the ground crews and technical staff, Tony flew over to the array to work on reconfiguring the system. They could use the current produced by the array, but he'd have to ...

"Hey, J... there are some signs that someone has tampered with the control box. The seals are intact as far as I can tell, but it looks like someone has had a try at them. Could you scan this and make sure the ARC is still properly calibrated? Then forward the scans, photos of the visible surface damage and whatever else you pick up to... uh, probably the Joint Chiefs, and uh... CIA, I guess. It's probably in their jurisdiction. Ah, no, ya know what, just send it to the whole alphabet soup, and let them argue about it. I'm not getting in the middle of their various pissing contests, and if we've got someone trying to get their hands on an ARC reactor, then security overall needs to be upgraded anyway."

::Certainly, Sir. I have also taken the liberty of notifying security of the two heat signatures currently in the building. As the damage to the control box appears quite recent, it is possible that they are either the culprits or saw something - particularly as the immediate area was cleared shortly after the shroud separated from the building. Scans indicate that the ARC in the array is undamaged, and the system as a whole should be functional, but I do recommend caution moving forward.::

Well. That wasn't at all worrisome.

"You got it J. While security is chasing down Shady McVillain, let's see what we can do in the meantime. We really can't just leave this hanging. How long could we safely run the unibeam? Think we can boil a hole through the viscera with the opening we've already managed? Maybe cut the plates from the inside, aim for a controlled descent."

::I suspect you are going to try to find the answer to that second question, Sir, though I would prefer you not risk depleting the suit's capacity while probable hostiles are nearby. Two more heat signatures at the corner of the building catty corner, Sir.::

Tony's stomach dropped as JARVIS took control of the suit and twisted up and out of the scaffolding, putting the bulk of the Chitauri carcass between them and the newly-detected heat signatures.

"Shit, J! What was that for?"

::Position and posture are consistent with someone aiming a weapon, and it is unlikely that whatever they have can cut through the Leviathan's bulk where nothing else has reliably done so. Ground security forces are converging on the location and are warned.::

"I should be helping them!"

::With all due respect, Sir, I have my suspicions and - if I am right - this is well within the abilities of the average soldier with an standard issue pistol. If there is even a hint that they need more firepower, we will be there.
::The pair inside the building have been apprehended - they appear to be coming quietly. The other two... are yelling and posturing, but not attacking. It seems... oh, dear. It seems, Sir, that SHIELD sent in a couple agents with an EMP.::

"What? That's... why would... JARVIS, are you implying that they were they after the ARC? ...no, the array was already down, an EMP makes no sense. Maybe they planned to try and knock me out of the sky ...in front of witnesses? Or... hell, J, I'm so confused by those asshats."

::They have been rather persistent in trying to contact you, Sir. And it's not like they've balked as assault before, so your conclusion is a valid hypothesis. I'm sure the Security Forces will be happy to let you know the results of their interrogation. In the meantime, shall we return to what we were doing?::

"Yeah... I really, really want to shoot something right now, J. Mind if we try the unibeam?"

::I believe a 53-second beam would leave enough power for a healthy margin, even if you need to continue with the lasers afterward. It should be sufficient to test the heat resistance, at least.::

It was late when they finally got home.

On the plus side, they'd found out that despite the SHIELD goons having actually tried to shoot him out of the sky, Chitauri Leviathan was an effective shield against an EMP. (and Tony was already thinking about ways to improve his suit to hopefully incorporate that.) They'd also gotten the carcass safely bisected and the probability of the building collapsing catastrophically was now approximately 11.3%, and everyone had agreed to leave the rest for tomorrow. He'd brought the array's ARC home with him, just in case.

On the down side... well,

• SHIELD was getting pissy and impatient and they'd tried to shoot him out of the sky. While he was working. On something that wasn't even targeting them. He'd have to be doubly and trebly careful when he went out. That invisible suit idea had just gotten bumped up on his priority list...
• At least one terrorist group/ foreign agency/ they still hadn't figured out who was trying to get their hands on an ARC reactor. He hated it when plots overlapped - couldn't he just deal with one shady organization at a time? (Of course not... what was he thinking?)
• The unibeam had boiled Chitauri guts rather nicely, but its use was otherwise mostly pointless unless you were making stew. Electricity had been only marginally more effective at weakening the armor. (1.076%)
• Cutting through the rest of the Leviathan had overheated his lasers nearly to the point of failure. (But that's what upgrades are for, right?)
• His suit stank of unmentionable substances and even the decontamination shower hadn't full erased the stench. At least it was the suit and not himself.
• He was physically exhausted, but his brain was far too active for sleep.
• Rhodey had been pulled to DC for a consultation and wouldn't be back for two days but he wanted a Rhodey-hug now.
• His vacation was over and he had three meetings scheduled for tomorrow.
  
  and finally
  
• He hadn't eaten since that apple that pretended to be lunch, and it would be 15 whole minutes before the pizza he'd ordered arrived.

urgh... Why did life have to be complicated?

Chapter Text

First thing in the morning meetings were never her favorite, but far better than having to be pulled out of a project for one. At least with Dr. Stark, the meeting was likely to be both interesting and focused.

And everyone knew Dr. Stark liked early morning meetings less than anyone. Yet here he was, on time, clutching an extra-large coffee cup and looking like he hadn't slept. (Maybe he hadn't? Rumors of the man's sleep habits and common knowledge of his extremely busy work schedule painted a picture of making sleep-deprivation a lifestyle, after all...)

"Hey, June-bug." He greeted her as he sat down at the 'talking table' to one side of the lab with a yawn. "I see you've brought the Tome of Doom and its sequels."

June ducked her head. "Yeah... though this is the one you're probably most interested in." she replied, sliding him the bright green, 2 inch binder labeled 'How to Keep Your Arms in Your Own Hands'.

Dr. Stark chuckled. "Ah, the so-called 'Manual of Saving Your Ass'? Thanks, Juney." He flipped to a random page, skimming the notes and sketches. "Tell me about these - grand overview, what types of ideas, then we'll look at a few details."

They spent the next hour going over ideas, from kill switches to disable key mechanisms,

("C'mon, boss, all I'd need is to trigger a little tiny explosion. Kinda like BMWs have a kill on their battery if they're in a crash."
"No, you may not make the gun explode, Bugaboo."
"Of course not! Just to knock the firing pin out of alignment - nano-burst explosions! If they're not already a thing, I'll make them one!!"
"I'm really, really tempted to let you make those, just so I can give them to SHIELD.")

to bio-print target locks,

("I talked to my friend's cousin's boyfriend who's working as a tech in the biotech lab, and he's sure we should be able to make trackers for Chitauri signature, they'd only fire if the target shows that sig - but then the gun would be useless against other types of attackers.)

to bio-print trigger locks so only humans could use it,

("We'll have to make sure people like the Hulk could use it if needed."
"Dr. Stark, I don't think the Hulk needs a gun."
"I know, but there could be other not-quite-human-any-more people out there who would. ...its a detail for a later time, but something to make a note of."
"Gotcha, boss. '+4 to attack, useable by Human only' doesn't help if you're an elf."
"...You play Munchkin, don't you."
"You've played Munchkin!!?!")

to bio-print target lock kill switches if humans were targeted.

"I like that one! Even if the weapons get into the wrong hands, they'd be useless to terrorists." Dr. Stark sighed. "We'll almost certainly be getting back into weapons" -June managed not to squeal, but couldn't help the massive grin- "yeah, yeah, you're all excited. This book of yours... helps, June." He swallowed. "I'm... still not comfortable, but... this, this helps. I think we can do this. I'd like you to head a new team, looking at making some of these mitigation methods a reality. Once we can ensure current weapons can't be misused, then we can look at expanding into new weapons.
"Oh, before I forget, how did you get access to the data you've used in some of these calculations? Especially this newer stuff from the Chitauri research groups. Most of it is unpublished and eyes-only."

June grinned "The raw data is restricted, but most of the research teams post preliminary findings to the shared servers you set up to facilitate collaboration, and they often include tables of the data they used. The group that started studying Chitauri tech vs Chitauri armor after finding footage of the Black Widow stealing a Chitauri gun to use against them posts reports almost every day and since we have access to the research servers... well, I read them. It's really interesting, and ...well, I like that sort of stuff, you know?"

"Chitauri weapons against Chitauri armor? ... and how did they stack up?"

"Punched right through! I'd love to see footage of the tests they're running. Just judging on the baseline data in the report, that's some tough stuff! I could do so much with materials like that."

"Do you think they could adapt one of those weapons to be used as a cutter? We've still got a couple Leviathans to deal with and they're in awkward places. It took far too long to section one last night using just the lasers on the Iron Man suit and a new tool would be useful. So... maybe see if we can pull a few members of this research group onto the team I proposed for you and make that your first project? Team leads have full data access, you know."

June couldn't help it. She did squeal. "Yeah! I'm sure we could." Grabbing her blue binder she started flipping through the pages. "We could probably tweak this one -" she barely paused to display an intricate diagram and copious notes before flipping forward a few more pages "-or this one, and combine it with -" she grabbed the green binder again "-this type of current modulator and that targeting lock we discussed, and-"

Dr. Stark laughed. It wasn't the dry, nervous chuckle from before, but a genuine laugh, like her excitement made him happy. "Well, then. Let's get this ball rolling, and see if you can have a prototype ready for field testing in... three days? I know its short notice, but we really need to get that last space whale taken care of, and the team that's working on some of the site-specific issues think they'll be ready by then. Hopefully. I still need to meet with them later today because some of what happened last night is relevant and might change their design. JARVIS, could you please find out which team is working on -"

"The report was filed under BioMechanics Team 3-K, Dr. Stark. A Dr. Deskmu... no, I mean Deshmukh was the first name on the contributors list." June offered, pleased that she'd gotten such a positive response from the man she looked up to so much.

"You heard the lady, JARVIS. Please send Dr. Deshmukh a request for collaboration, and ...wait, J, could you check whether this it the same Dr. Deshmukh who gave that presentation on dietary impact on kidney function in biotoxin processing at the convention in... Cairo, '02, I think? Because if so, I probably owe him an apology and a bottle of mahua."

::No, Sir. Dr. Pranit Deshmukh had not yet received his Doctorate at that time, and his thesis dealt with the effect of improper temperature control in smelting on the tensile strength of Molybdenum-Steel alloys. It is extremely unlikely they are the same person, even if you have misremembered the date of the convention.::

"Oh, good. Because I have no idea where to get mahua right now. Please send Dr. Deshmukh that request, and put June Moriarty as the main point of contact, and me as second."

::Done, Sir. I have taken the liberty of including a brief overview of the proposed project, as well Miss Moriarty's credentials.::

"Awesome! You are the best, J.
"So, June-bug, are you ready to jump right in? Oh, why am I even asking, if you had a tail it'd be wagging you. So: first project, ultra-powerful cutting tool. Then the weapon-control devices. Let's get you set up with full data access so you can get started - though I expect you to actually meet with your team before trying to build anything, so keep an eye on your phone and email for when Dr. Deshmukh gets in touch." He pulled up a second projection, changing 'permissions' in her profile and listing her as 'head of Stark Industries Special Projects Team' under his authorization code.
"Speaking of data access... JARVIS, please bring up Phase 2 data saved from Helicarrier."

JARVIS obligingly projected the requested files onto the blank wall next to them.

"These are the specs we have on some weapons SHIELD was making. I'd like you to look at neutralizing them as well. Chances are that at least a few of your ideas are applicable. Or at least adaptable, so if you cou..."

June hardly heard him, eyes wide as she read through the data, hand reaching almost unconsciously for her red binder. She started flicking quickly through the pages, glancing briefly at each with most of her attention still on 'Phase 2' until she found the one she wanted. "Dr. Stark, while I wait for Dr. Deskmukh would you please let me borrow JARVIS first for... about 30 minutes or so? Because I think this new stuff is exactly what this idea needs to get off the ground." She smoothed the page flat, but Dr. Stark didn't even look at it, distracted by the green smoke beginning to seep from whatever was on the workstation counter in the far corner.

"J, Please help my favorite little Scarab get her idea fleshed out enough to run some feasibility simulations. And bump that fire suppression system you want up to the high priority queue. I got a ...something to go check on over there before heading to my next meeting."

::Of course, Sir. I am at your service, Miss Moriarty.::

June was frozen as Dr. Stark walked off, grabbing a fire blanket as he headed to the verdantly smoking ...whatever, calling "Who's project is on Station 3, and why was it left unattended?"

::Miss Moriarty? Is something amiss?::

"Why did he call me that?"

::Sir's nicknames are often difficult to track, but I believe it is because June Bugs - also called June Beetles - belong to a large family of insects known as Scarab Beetles. Scarabs are most famous for their place in Egyptian mythology as a symbol of resurrection and protection.::

"Oh. That's ok then." (Protection and a new life, huh? She could live with that.)

::Should I suggest to Sir that he refrain from using that particular appellation in the future?::

"No, thank you, JARVIS. I just misheard him. I know he's never mean with his silly names, but it sounded like he called me 'scab' and ... there really aren't any nice ways to take that. That's all. It's fine. Thank you for the explanation." She shook herself and turned back to work, pulling out a clean sheet of paper.

::I shall make a general suggestion that Sir be more careful in his enunciation, then.::

June giggled as JARVIS pulled up a cleaned (no longer messily handwritten) copy of her notes, laying it side by side with a scan of the originals. ::If you would please check this over for any translation errors, Miss Moriarty, I would be much obliged.::

June blushed. "Aw, JARVIS, my handwriting isn't that bad".

::Indeed, Miss, but I would prefer to take no chances. If I have properly parsed the concept here, an error could be catastrophic.::

Chapter Text

Pepper rubbed her temples, ironically grateful for Tony's tendency to be slightly late for meetings. The simple fact of the matter was that she was tired. The relocation of SI's normal business had been a major headache, but - with the whole area cordoned off - it had been necessary.

The penthouse and floors immediately below it had taken the brunt of the damage, of course, and it would be a while yet before they were fully repaired. (Once the worst of the debris had been cleared and the windows replaced, other areas had been given higher priority than Tony's living space. It's not like he or Jim used it as more than a place to crash from exhaustion.) The lobby and lower, undamaged floors had promptly been pressed into service for staging and coordination, as the Tower's location at the epicenter of the destruction made it ideal for that. The existing medbay (R&D being what it is, a medbay had been deemed essential right from the Tower's inception) had been expanded - first to triage and treat civilians caught in the invasion and then to include several of the bio-labs. Existing labs had been updated and, as SI's offices had been cleared and repairs were completed, those spaces had become home to other research groups. Conference rooms had largely remained conference rooms, equipped with top-of-the-line communications equipment and used by the various researchers to connect with colleagues across the globe, as fully half the scientists on site were internationals. All of that was good, wonderful for both getting the best minds on the problem and getting SI's name and brand more recognition in a dozen different fields.
(Because yes, marketing was a thing, even in a crisis. They made sure it wouldn't overshadow or take attention from the actual work being done, but if SI's logo just happened to show up in the background of the various teleconferences they hosted, as a watermark in the various programs, platforms and tools they provided the research teams and as an icon in their multimedia software, well, it was their property and proprietary tech. And if Stark Industries' name was listed as a sponsor of the various labs and research groups alongside the other companies and universities providing funding, personnel, equipment and facilities, well, that's only fair. The media could make what they wanted of the fact that SI was on every single list.)

This time JARVIS had let her know the delay was, in fact, justified as Tony was putting out a fire in R&D... hopefully not a literal fire, though with R&D it was a possibility. Still, the fire alarm hadn't gone off, so... she'd just take the few minutes' respite to close her eyes and enjoy how cool the table felt against her cheek.

Her brief interlude of calm ended when Tony walked into the room, eyes glued to his phone, his usual manic energy at odds with the bags under his eyes testifying to his own exhaustion. "Hey, Pep! Apparently we had a press conference that's trending on pretty much every social media platform and news channel? And I'm just now hearing about it?"

"You've been busy enough without handling the press on top of the clean up, Tony. That was the press conference yesterday announcing that the North and Northwest sections had been deemed clean and safe enough for people to return to their homes to see what is salvageable and whether their building has been cleared as safe for habitation or condemned. The DODC, CDC and HUD are trying to get people back to some semblance of normalcy. They'll be letting people through in chaperoned groups of fifty, by address, and the schedule was also announced."

"...that doesn't sound at all like what I'm reading here, Pep."

She smirked. "Well... Someone tried to insinuate that the 'A' being all that's left of 'STARK' on the Tower is a Divine Sign from God that you are supposed to make it the headquarters for the Avengers. Gennilee did a lovely job of shooting them down."

"First, who's Gennilee? And second, JARVIS, please play this rumored masterpiece of a rebuttal."

::Of course Sir.::
A holographic screen showing an Indian woman in an impeccably tailored suit standing behind a podium appeared above the conference room table, and began playing the video clip.
::Gennilee Swanson is one of SI's Senior Public Relations Officers from the London branch who has come to help out during the clean up.::

"... a sign from God."
"Are you daft?" Gennilee's cultured voice dripped with scorn, though her face only showed a politely vague contempt. "You might as well say the Cuban sandwich shop on East 3rd whose sign currently reads 'Dom... Subs' because of the damage that building took has changed their business to selling fetish gear instead of food."

Tony snorted and opened his mouth but Pepper interrupted before he could put his foot in it. "No, Tony. Whatever thought you just had, no."

Tony pouted and turned back to the screen.

"...not rebuilt instantaneously, and work has been focused on the wider clean up efforts with priority given to structural damages rather than merely cosmetic. Furthermore, Stark Industries' Legal Department and the Maria Stark Foundation have put hundreds of man-hours into working with various insurance companies to keep them from weaseling out of their obligations by declaring this entire disaster an 'Act of God', and you want to point to the damages done to ONE sign on ONE building and say 'but that is!!!'? Are. You. Mental?"

The recording ended and Tony chuckled, a huge grin on his face. "I'd bet SHIELD was behind the question being asked, but that was awesome! She deserves something nice. J, can you set Ms. Swanson up with a week in Tahiti?"

"Tony, no."

"But Pep, -"

"No, Tony. JARVIS, cancel Tahiti. Do you have any data on what sort of wine Ms. Swanson prefers?"

::No, Ms. Potts.::

"Then we'll go with a nice red - in the $100 range. And please help Tony draft an appropriate letter of appreciation to send with it." She gave Tony a pointed glare letting him know that he would toe the line.

The holographic screen changed to show a half dozen bottles of wine.
::Very good, Ms. Potts. One of the local shops near SI's current business offices has these options in stock which meet your criteria and have ratings of 92 or higher.::

Pepper took a moment to survey the options. "The Merlot, I think. Thank you JARVIS. Once Tony has drafted his Thank You note, please arrange to have a bottle delivered to Ms. Swanson. And Tony, do try to get that done today. I'm sure you can manage a sentence or two in that time."

"Really, Pep?" Tony whined. "A bottle of wine? That's all? She was brilliant!"

"She was doing her job, Mr. Stark. Excellence is rewarded in end of year bonuses. The wine is a personal token of appreciation - and far more appropriate than an extravagant exotic vacation."

Tony smirked. "J, add 12% to Ms. Swanson's bonus."

::Very good, Sir.::

Pepper just rolled her eyes, but didn't protest.

The actual business that needed to be covered was relatively straightforward, but keeping Tony on topic was about like putting a leash on a fish. Even though he hated being in meetings, his tangential ramblings did tend to be one reason they ran long. As CEO, Pepper had authority to manage the business, make new contracts and deal with problems as she saw fit. But as owner and majority shareholder, Tony was always kept in the loop on major decisions.

Tony confirmed her assumption that SI would eventually re-open their weapons production lines, and that there would be heavy restrictions on what was produced and where they would be sold. His discomfort at the idea was plain, so she didn't push. Details would come later, but PR, Marketing and HR needed the heads up to make the whole thing go smoothly. There was more than enough to keep them all busy anyway.

The 60^th-62^nd floors of the Tower were nearly repaired and had been slated to be more labs, but a recent accident leaving four researchers hospitalized in a car crash attributed to sleep-deprivation had prompted the suggestion that short-term sleeping accommodations were becoming a necessity. At three weeks in and many people working 14+ hour days, sleep deprivation was a reality. It would be better for people to crash on a couch for a few hours than crash in a car. (Actually, sleep pods were being installed on half of floors 60 and 61 to provide a quieter, darker place to catch a nap regardless of the hour.)

JARVIS brought up the matter of corporate espionage - SI had provided the research teams with a proper platform for sharing their data remotely, and a server-farm's worth of memory allocated for their use, but some people just had to grab for more. JARVIS had been subtly corrupting data saved to USB drives and had hacked a few phones to delete certain photos, particularly as the stolen data had mostly been proprietary, and mostly SI's. They had discussed new security measures and drafted an announcement to all security and research teams regarding the problem. The majority would cooperate - no one wanted their own as-yet-unpublished research stolen, after all, and would-be hackers were warned of the severe sanctions that would result. Known perpetrators were also placed under increased scrutiny, though that detail would not be generally announced.

Once the discussions were out of the way and finalizing the paperwork was all that remained, Pepper asked JARVIS to request a notary from the on-site Legal team to drop by, and Tony promptly added a request start the coffee machine in his private lab as that would be his next destination.

::Certainly Miss Potts. the notary should arrive within the next 10 minutes. May I take this time to inform you Sir, Miss Moriarty asks that you set aside time for consultation, and I would strongly recommend that you do so as soon as possible. Preferably tomorrow. The day after at the very latest.::

"That bad, J?"

::Bad, Sir? No. No one is in immediate danger and she is flawless in adhering to safety protocols.::

"Are we talking about the same June-bug, here, J?" Tony smirked as he took a sip of coffee, and Pepper rolled her eyes, recalling any number of times Moriarty's enthusiasm had overridden safety consciousness.

Granted, they had mostly been in the first several months she'd been at SI - fresh out of college, and still a minor to boot. Come to think of it, for all that Moriarty had become a company legend for her over-the-top stress testing strategies, Pepper couldn't remember seeing her name attached to an injury or massive collateral report for negligence in ... she couldn't remember how long. Hmm... maybe her safety record was better than her reputation implied.
(Though, honestly, it was hard to forget the incident with the fringed flapper dress. That one had been a mess - seriously, fire hazard with all those little flammable strings dangling everywhere... The results had included four singed scientists, one ruined dress, one very embarrassed intern, a thick stack of paperwork and an updated lab dress code.)

::Indeed, Sir. She is also terrifyingly competent and likely to finish a working model of Tesla's Death Ray within the month, even with her other projects. I simply think it best that you be involved before it gets much further along as proper protocols and apparatus for testing may take some time to arrange.::

Pepper gaped at the news and Tony spluttered "She's building WHAT?? How~? Why...? JARVIS, she was supposed to be looking at making a Chitauri laser cutter thingy! How did she get onto Tesla's ... Oh, shit! shitshitshit we can't let SHIELD find out about that... or any of the militaries anywhere in the world if she's right and Tesla's claims about the potential of that thing were even remotely accurate." Tony's breathing sped up and -

::Sir, breathe with me.::

Thank heavens for JARVIS. It had been a while since Pepper'd had to talk Tony out of a panic attack and she'd been frozen in her own shock. "That's right Tony, breathe." She placed his hand on her diaphragm and took exaggeratedly deep breaths. "Listen to JARVIS. Feel me breathe. In for four, hold for three, out for four." JARVIS helpfully counted as she continued to murmur reassurances and model diaphragmatic breathing. The ARC reactor limited how deep of a breath Tony could take, but he could at least breathe correctly. This wasn't quite a full-blown panic attack, but she could tell it could easily have become one by the difficulty he was having getting himself back under control.

::There is no need to panic, Sir. Not yet. Her current design is only feasible for space-based use, and intended solely for defense against attacking space craft. I have placed all notes and research under the highest level of security protocols and Miss Moriarty has agreed to leave all her notes and materials under lockdown when not actively involved in working on it.
As for how she got onto the project, you gave her permission. She asked if she could make use of my abilities to integrate the Phase 2 data with her notes and run some simulations while waiting for Dr. Deshmukh to get in touch regarding the *ahem* 'Chitauri laser cutter thingy', and you said yes. To be fair, it was about the same time Mr. Benson's experimental nano-spectrograph began experiencing technical difficulties, so you might have been a trifle distracted.::

Pepper squeezed his hand. She'd known Tony was having trouble with the whole issue surrounding weapons anyway, but this... this was another level altogether. "Ok... First of all, we're involving legal - have both a Liability and Patent team member involved in that meeting tomorrow. JARVIS, could you please ask ...hmmm... Anh Nguyen and Chris Jensen from the main office to come over tomorrow at... whatever time will Tony have a couple hours open for that meeting. They're two of our best. Also someone from... buildings and maintenance, I guess? You'll need to arrange some sort of testing facility. Eventually. Right?"

Tony's laughter had a distinctly hysterical edge to it. "Pep, it's a death ray. That apparently only works in space. How the hell are we supposed to safely test something like that?"

... none of them had an answer for that.

Chapter Text

After a nice lab session to help him calm down (and because there was just so. much. to. do.) Tony headed to the bio-lab for his last meeting of the day. They were borrowing a conference room in one of the off-site labs, closer to the Leviathan crash site that was the main topic to be discussed. As Dr. Banner was working in this building, Tony hoped to catch him for a few minutes before the actual meeting started. He just needed to talk to Bruce about long term plans. (Avengers? Next invasion? Ross?)

Tony scanned his handprint and security card. He didn't own this building - it was being rented, with the owner more than happy to be getting some income from it. (What with the cordon and all, there were few other options.) As a result, JARVIS wasn't fully installed here. He had access to the various security cameras and logs, of course. Enough to assure Tony that SHIELD wasn't lurking around. It wasn't optimal for laboratories, but they'd made do with relatively little renovation - mostly in filtering and isolation systems.

The lobby was oddly empty, but Tony made his way to the restricted lab space - probably just something interesting. He scanned his (opposite) hand and security card (again) to access the lab and a warning light went on.

::It appears the lab is on an unscheduled decontamination lockdown, Sir.:: JARVIS informed him through his earpiece. ::Most personnel have been temporarily quarantined for full decontamination and health checks. Michael Ortiz was the member of sanitation staff on call at this facility today and has the matter in hand, though he has requested a second pair of eyes. If you are willing to assist, you are qualified and cleared to do so. Hazmat suits are located in the lockers to your right. I shall inform him of your arrival.::

As Tony waited for the airlock to cycle before entering the Lab, he tried to place the name. It was familiar. Even through the suit he could hear the whine of the fans in the fume hoods and the hiss and roar of flames. Ortiz had his back to the door, methodically reducing one of the workstations to ash with precision control of a bright purple flamethrower. Both the machine and the technique of its wielder were distinctive, confirming that he knew this Michael Ortiz from somewhere. Tony stood back until the man turned off the flamethrower and walked around the pile of smouldering ash, prodding it, before getting the man's attention.

"What happened?"

The man looked up at his question, and upon seeing the face the name clicked and Tony recognized Michael Ortiz from SI's high-clearance janitorial staff, vaguely recalling that several of the staff had offered to be put on rotation among the various labs. They were lucky Ortiz was on this site today. If anyone could handle the insanity of a full-decontamination lockdown, it was him.

"Oh, hey, boss. Didn't expect you as my back up, but thanks. You remember March of '99, Lab 6?"

"... the semi-sentient and definitely hostile ooze that resulted from someone trying to create Flubber?"

"Well, I think they may have topped it today."

"JARVIS, do you have any notes on what was being worked on?"

::Offsite Biotech Lab 3, Station 6, Security level 5, assigned to Monsieur Jaques le Cartier, senior researcher in Biochemical applications on loan from Université de Paris, and Doutor Esmina Juarez, Professor of Microbiology, on sabbatical from Universidade de São Paulo. Senhora Juarez was not in the lab today. M. le Cartier was making full use of the automatic data logging features of this lab, but has privacy protocols engaged regarding his current research.::

"Override code Alpha-5-5-Hotel-4-7, purpose: Lab Incident Investigation Log. Begin report." Immediately a copy of recent lab notes and experimental results was projected on a nearby wall.

::Security footage is also available for review, Sir. It appears that M. le Cartier was following proper safety protocols, and simply ended up with an unanticipated situation where they were insufficient.::

"Attach that footage to the report file, we'll have others take a closer look at it later. Make sure that the correct people are alerted." Tony instructed, already scanning the notes as Ortiz looked over his shoulder, reading along.

::Already done, Sir.::

"It looks like he was checking out some ... parasitic organism?"

"Fungus may also be involved, boss. See right there, 'indications of mycophilic symbiosis'." Michael threw in, pointing to a line further down the page.

"Shit. JARVIS, I know we've got alien bacteria covered in decontamination procedures. Please tell me we know how to kill alien fungus, too."

Michael flicked his flamethrower back on for a brief second, the controlled gout of flame not even singeing the ceiling. "Yup. Gotcha covered Boss." just as JARVIS replied,
::The spores and mycelia all burn quite nicely, Sir. Their ignition point is between 125° and 160° Celsius - slightly lower than the normal range of many earth-based fungi and significantly lower than the temperatures produced by the crematoriums. Even before the recent upgrades you introduced, the hazmat suits could handle those temperatures with ease. Heat has been a standard part of the cleaning cycle and screens for fungal contaminants are a routine part of work crews' daily health monitoring protocols since the existence of the fungus was confirmed. Additionally, as per standard biolab protocols, the air filters catch micron-sizes particulates - significantly smaller than the fungal spores. In its natural state, the fungus does not appear to pose a threat to human health, though studies in rats and insects are ongoing.::

"Ok. That's good." Tony let out a sigh and closed his eyes for a second to calm himself. It was nice when someone else took care of the problems before he even noticed them.

Ortiz - still reading - interrupted his thoughts. "It looks like Cartier was testing different acid baths to... oh. Might want to tell everyone to not bring pickles in with their lunches. Acetic acid is the last logged test and..."

"It topped the semi-sentient slime..."

"Yeah. Kinda makes me wonder how these parasites would react to baking soda."

"Remind me again why you're a janitor instead of a researcher?"

Ortiz ignited the flame thrower as a flash of purple ...something... caught his eye in the ashes of the former workstation. Tony could hear the feral grin hidden behind his hazmat mask as he replied "I prefer the regular, predictable hours, of course."

Chapter Text

United States Air Force Colonel James Rhodes quietly ground his teeth in an effort to not draw blood biting his tongue. Today, more than ever before, he truly, viscerally, understood why Tony hated dealing with the brass. He'd always known, but understanding had taken a while. But right now? In this meeting? Listening to General Fredricks droning on and on about threat assessment and response and forcing Tony to make weapons again? Rhodey understood. Colonel Rhodes was military through and through, but there were some lines you didn't cross. (Preferably because you were moral enough not to, but in dealing with Tony Stark... practicality and survival were also major considerations.) Unfortunately, a few of the Generals seemed to have forgotten that.

Eventually the man stopped talking and Rhodey Colonel Rhodes took the stage. "I have not yet worked out an agreement with Tony Stark regarding weapons production, Sir." He held up a hand to forestall the rant he could see coming from several people in the room. "He is so busy right now that he is averaging less than five hours of sleep a day - and that is nearly an 80% increase over a week ago." (He'd just not mention that falling asleep over cheesy movies the previous evening and the unprecedented ten hours they had slept had a lot to do with that particular statistic) "I have brought the matter up with him and he will think about it once the clean up of New York is done."

Predictably, Captain Sanders spoke up. "It will take years to rebuild." he whined. (God help him, he truly hated not outranking that weasel.)

"Not rebuilding, Captain. Clean up - in Dr. Stark's words 'when I can't smell the stench of the battlefield in my backyard.' Right now, removal of decaying corpses and dangerous technology is - rightly - being prioritized. Dr. Stark has strongly implied that he will be open to further discussion once that is finished. Which, if current schedules don't get interrupted could be as soon as three weeks."

"Three weeks!?" They all pounced on that.

"If you gentlemen will all cooperate in ensuring things run as smoothly as possible, that is currently the most optimistic estimated timeframe for the last of the sanitizing demolition. As with any operation, SNAFUs can happen.
"Dr. Stark has agreed to consider the matter and open further discussions at that point. Which means he is willing to unlock that door and not automatically shoot you if you try to open it. There will be limitations on what he is willing to make, and how they are to be used. I strongly recommend that you don't push him. As with everything, there is a price tag. In this case, your patience is part of the cost. I know Tony Stark very well, which is why I was appointed to be the military liaison with Stark Industries. Trust me when I say you will get far more out of the bargain if you respect his boundaries. I will continue working with him and feeling out how much he is willing to give, but you all need to give me the space to do so. You need to give him the space to do so.
"I know several of you have gotten more than slightly impatient in the meetings you have already had with him. I am warning you right now: Don't. Fuck. This. Up. If you think that because he is tired from everything he has been through and is doing, it will make him more inclined to promise things, to make a deal, you. Are. Wrong. It will make him less inclined to work with you, not more."

It still took over an hour or repeating the same cautions and answering the same questions for the meeting to end. ...and he had more meetings tomorrow.

Oh. Joy.

"With all due respect, Sir, my ability to translate Tony-Starkese into plan English is one of many reasons I was assigned as a liaison with Stark Industries. 'I will think about it later' means 'I will think about it. Later. Unless you push me. In which case the answer is no, and I will destroy you instead.' If you require further clarification, Sir, I suggest you ask the warlords in Afghanistan."

"Three weeks is being highly optimistic. It is an estimate based on the ability of several governmental groups to work together as a functioning team. If you all want that to be an accurate estimate, then you all need to make sure that your men and your officers and your orders are helping the overall effort. Trying to push your particular personal agendas will only fuck things up. So DON'T."

Two days later, Rhodey was soooo glad to finally crash on the Penthouse couch. Tony wasn't the only one running on less sleep than necessary. Though he'd gotten a couple decent nights' sleep while he had been in DC (the Generals sure weren't burning the midnight oil over the clean up efforts), he still had a significant sleep debt accumulated and drifted into a light doze.

Rhodey started half-awake when a warm body plopped onto the cushion next to him.

"Hey, Platypus."

Judging by voice alone, Tony was exhausted, too. Warm fingers began playing across his scalp and he groaned, not wanting to finish waking up.

"So... I had an interesting couple days. How 'bout you?"

"...boring. I hate meetings with idiots who think asking the same thing a dozen different ways will change the answer."

Tony snorted. "Yep. I know the feeling. So... Moriarty had way too much fun. And so did Ortiz. I am so very glad they don't work in the same department. Neither R&D nor Maintenance would survive long if they did. On the other hand, they'd probably either rule the world or burn it down, and that would take care of your idiot problem."

Rhodey sighed and rolled to sit up. "What did they do this time, Tones?"

Tony practically whimpered. ...no, it was a giggle. sort of? "We're all gonna die, Honeybear. Moriarty is a deranged genius, and there's no Sherlock Holmes around to rein her in and I accidentallyenabledhertobuildafuckingDEATHRAYohsweetsciencewe're... so screwed."

Rhodey blinked as the babble filtered through his still-sleep muffled brain. "...say what?"

"The sparkly pink Princess of Mayhem and Destruction is on the brink of achieving god-tier BAMFness and I'm terrified of what the military will do if they find out."

"... say what?" Things really weren't parsing well right now... "...can I have plausible deniability? Please? For the next few hours, at least?"

Tony finally laughed. Hopefully at least half of what he'd said was a joke. (yeah, right. Still 'An Episode in the Life of Tony Stark™'; maximum drama guaranteed.)

"Ok, Rhodey-bear. You can help me with something else. I'm going back through footage from the invasion to try and figure out how much force is takes to damage the various baddies and whether existing weapons will be at all effective. Or which existing weapons will be at all effective, really. I have pretty good data for the goodies in my suit, so we're looking at everyone else."

They had soon made themselves comfortable on the sofa - Rhodey taking the recliner on one end and Tony sprawled across the length with his head on Rhodey's shoulder. Drinks and snacks filled the end table and they munched as JARVIS brought up what footage they had been able to collect.

The footage was piecemeal - some from the suit, some obviously from traffic and security cameras that happened to catch a bit of the action. A few dozen clips posted to social media from cell phones because people didn't know when to run away. (Ok, some of them had been sheltering in the office buildings and hadn't had anywhere to run to, but still... they'd been gawking out the windows like tourists.)

Surprisingly, Hulk's version of blunt-force trauma was more effective against the flyers than any other earthly weapon - a fact that Tony groused at, even as he cheered for the Hulk stabbing a piece of the Leviathan's own armor into its head. Not that the Iron Man missiles and repulsor blasts weren't effective - just... not so much against the whales.

Even Hawkeye's arrows could take out the chittering foot soldiers and gliders.

Natasha proved that Chitauri weapons were effective against their wielders, which had come out in briefing, but was good to know.

"Well," Rhodey remarked, "it looks like a lot of what we already have is good enough for the little grunts."

"Yeah," Tony quipped, "We'll just need to figure how to deal with the BUFFs."

"Hey, don't insult BUFFs like that!"

Tony snickered, then turned serious. "We know that a nuke, at least, will take them out, but they weren't the toughest guys on the field."

Rhodey just stared at him in confusion.

"You saw Hulk smash one of them into the street with a single blow. Boom, dead. He ragdolled Loki into the floor multiple times and only knocked the guy out."

"... say what!!??"

Tony just sighed as JARVIS helpfully began to play the security footage of Hulk whipping Loki through the air to smash him into the floor, and Rhodey could only stare, open-mouthed. Tony's brief descriptions of and references to what had happened had been quite tame. The scene playing out in front of him... was not.

"We might be able to use this to estimate the force required to knock him out, to get a base for designing weapons to use against Asgardians." Tony commented. "If Brucie-bear will cooperate with a few tests to get a baseline for Hul-"

"Wait, JARVIS, pause." Rhodey could swear he'd just seen something odd. "Rewind a bit. A bit more. Play slo-mo... stop. go back a frame. and one more. one more."

As he thought. Loki's eyes had flashed bright blue - the briefest glimpse, just two frames worth of footage, less than 1/10th of a second - barely enough to catch at normal speed.

Tony sat bolt upright and began swearing, obviously grasping the significance of what they'd seen. "Are there any more moments in Hulk's Greatest Hits with a clear view of Loki's face, J? From any of the cameras?"

::Not while Hulk is actively smashing, no, Sir. Between the damage done to the penthouse - including several of the cameras, the speed as which Loki is moving, and Hulk's remarkable ability to plant him face first nearly every time, there might, at best, be two or three frames on each swing where Loki's face is visible. I cannot guarantee clarity.::

"Ok, give me whatever you have before, during and after - clear view of his face, preferably with his eyes open."

Security footage from the confrontation before Tony was sent through a window flashed past, with a half dozen stills pulled and displayed to the side. The frames they had already seen from the Smashing plus three other (slightly blurry) views, and a couple good shots of Loki's slightly off-kilter grin as he asked for the promised drink.

Rhodey frowned. "Care to explain what I'm seeing here, Tones?" The difference was obvious: the blue in Loki's eyes was more subtle in the 'before' shots - not quite as bright as Barton's and Selvig's, which JARVIS helpfully brought up for comparison - easily dismissed as natural had they not seen the change. The only decent 'after' shot was when Loki reminded Tony of his impetuous offer of a drink - exhausted, sporting a self-deprecating grin and definitely GREEN eyes. With not a trace of the muddy grey-blue/ teal, nor the bright blue.

"Damn... Honeybear, it looks like we've got an even bigger problem than we knew. He was being controlled, and they handed him his own leash which means they had to have overwhelmed him somehow. They're worse, even more of a menace..." Rhodey could feel Tony's breath speed up as he started to panic at thought of a foe even tougher than Loki.

"Easy, Tones. Breathe. Now that we know what we're looking at, we can make better plans, yeah?"

::Sir, we do not know that he was controlled by the staff. It is possible that there are other means and that the signs of mind-control are simply fairly similar across different methods, as also is the means to break it.::

Tony took a deep, shuddering breath and finally relaxed, collapsing into Rhodey's chest.

"Possible, but it's not conclusive data, J." He giggled helplessly "We have practically no data."

"We're better to prepare for someone who could beat Loki with or without the staff - we gotta make sure the staff can be de-activated or neutralized..." Rhodey added, beginning to get a better picture - he'd heard about Barton's enthrallment in their earlier discussions.

::Preliminary observations indicate the ARC has potential as a deterrent, at the very least, Sir. And it is possible that SHIELD has more data as well - they did have Loki under observation for some hours, as well as whatever debriefing they did with Agent Barton, Dr. Selvig, and whomever else was under Loki's sway.::

"Yeah, ok. There's that. They also had the Tesseract for ...who knows how long. Might be something besides their 'Phase 2' that's interesting. Any chance of getting SHIELD's data without making a deal with the devil?"

::Of course, Sir.::
Rhodey smiled at the disdainful sniff. The AI was so very human at times. ...an often snooty, snarky human, granted. But so was his creator. (Jim loved them both anyway.)
::Information on both the Tesseract and Loki should be relatively easy to retrieve. SHIELD has yet to successfully unhack their systems.::

Tony chortled. "Seriously?! It's been, like, three weeks. Have they even figured out you're there, or do they just assume I hacked their systems on the Helicarrier and didn't leave something behind? Man, I had no real respect for the piratey crew anyway, but I at least thought they were somewhat competent. Dear Ol' Nicky played it like he knows me sooooo well, and then doesn't even consider that I can be a sneaky spy, too." He tapered off into quiet giggles and snuggled further into Rhodey's side. "You were right, Rhodey. He was just playing me. Just making me a pawn in his game."

Rhodey gave his best friend a squeeze, and yawned. "Well, I'm glad you're out of that game, then."

"Me, too, Platypus. Thanks for that save." Tony's voice seemed brighter than it had in days, despite the obvious exhaustion, and Rhodey could feel him getting heavy as he drifted toward sleep. "I gotta check Howard's notes on the ARC, too - maybe there's a clue there, hint as to why..."

JARVIS dimmed the lights, saved the security stills and notes from their discussion, and adjusted the thermostat. Rhodey settled back into the recliner and let himself drift off to sleep again, too.

Chapter Text

Tony gritted his teeth and had Happy drive him out to his childhood home residence. The stale dusty smell did little to dispel the all-too-vivid memories and sense of oppression the place had always evoked in him.

To be honest, he wasn't entirely sure why he still kept the old house. Probably because the few happy memories of his childhood were also anchored here - in the kitchen and garage workshop. However, today he was heading to Howard's lab. He shivered, glad that JARVIS was with him via Starkphone, and that Happy was only a shout away. Glad that he wouldn't be driving home after this - he could already tell it would be bad. His incursions into the room as a child had been either full of wonder, or coated in rejection and pain - sometimes both.

After several minutes of sorting through dusty, musty filing cabinets for the fancy leather-bound notebooks in which he clearly remembered Howard keeping important information, Tony was frustrated. The safe had proven empty, and for all his faults, Howard had been organized. It was highly unlikely he would have taken the notebooks with him on vacation - and they hadn't been among the personal effects recovered from the wreck, anyway. Nor was he likely to have messed up his filing system between their drunken shouting and leaving to die. The man might have had another drink, but being ready to leave would not equate to going to his lab. Not with Maria waiting. But where else would he possibly have kept his working research notes? Tony supposed that the filing cabinets in Howard's home office were a bare possibility. He growled. Paper files. urgh.... He slammed the latest drawer closed.

::If I may make an observation, Sir?:: JARVIS interrupted his grumbling. ::I have long thought it odd that Director Fury would have had your father's old things in his keeping to give to you.::

"They were friends, J. Why wouldn't he?" Tony sighed and pulled open the next file drawer.

::It merely seems odd that he would have such ...personal... effects in his possession, Sir. He was not the executor of your father's will - and if he were, the significant lapse of time between the reading of the will and him turning your inheritance over to you is almost certainly illegal. I got the distinct impression they were mostly work colleagues, not the sort of friends one would invite home for dinner.::

Tony stilled. "... you're not wrong, JARVIS. Howard seldom invited anyone home for any reason. He hosted occasional parties, but very very seldom at home. Once in a blue moon he'd have Peggy, Phillips, maybe what was left of the Howlies over for drinks. Only them, though, never their families. Parties and Galas were major social events held at hotels and conference centers; work was work and home was home. And for all that he brought work home with him, it was always projects and papers, never people, and he kept them in his lab or his office - the business parts of the house. And the Expo - that was SI business, not SHIELD."

As Tony glanced around the lab with new eyes, a tipped over box of screws on a low shelf caught his attention - he hadn't done that. It was dusty, had been there a while, but ...it was wrong... He started looking more closely and began to notice other small things very much not normal for Howard Stark's lab.

"You're right J. That's not just odd, its downright suspicious. Howard didn't mix the different parts of his life. His home lab was SI work; I can't see him taking his private journals to work with him, much less those tapes... shit. Peggy was in and out of the house after the funerals, sometimes with other people. I ... I remember her taking boxes out with her a couple times. I didn't think much of it. SHIELD probably just carted off anything they thought might be of interest. Those bastards!"

::Perhaps, Sir, it would be useful to meet with Director Fury after all. It seems there is indeed business you need to discuss with him. I believe Colonel Rhodes idea for managing the meeting might be the most feasible.::

The day had finally arrived - they were (hopefully!!) dealing with the last of the Leviathans. That his meeting with Fury would also be held onsite of this attempt at dealing with a particularly troublesome corpse could hardly dampen his eagerness to finally be done with this stage of the clean-up.

It would have been so much easier if the beast had not died before crashing into the buildings - either it would have swerved and hit the ground, or any efforts to free itself would have likely brought the structures tumbling down, giving them a ground-level worksite like most of the others. Instead, they got to deal with a massive, stinking bug suspended 20 to 60 feet in the air.

The Design crew had mostly worked out the details of a new concept for the heat shroud for the corpse's awkward placement - embedded across the facades of three buildings and creating areas across the width of entire floors where a vacuum seal was simply not possible. The shroud would be looser, and featured a giant sized variation on the Dyson 'whirlwind' vacuum system - using 2 in opposition create a wind tunnel effect, capturing majority of gases produced. The location several stories in the air and distance to majority of living beings were deemed sufficient to mitigate probable effects, though a redesign of crew members' PPE had been prioritized, just to make sure.

Moriarty's team-up with Deshmukh's team had been a stroke of terrifyingly efficient genius. They had successfully combined and converted the energy cores from a half dozen Chitauri guns into a long-running 'laser' that cut through Leviathan armor plating about as fast as an industrial laser through inch-thick steel plate. Which was to say 'steadily' and 'without overheating' - both of which were a vast improvement over his already better-than-industrial suit lasers. (Unfortunately, the Chitauri laser was too bulky to include in his next suit upgrade... yet.)

Moriarty's realization that this was the last intact Leviathan had sparked a dozen other ideas in her demolition-oriented head, some of which were also being put into play today. It was the last opportunity to test things against an intact carcass, and she was determined to make the most of it. ...along with the rest of SI's R&D, Materials Design and Ballistics departments, several military researchers from multiple branches, and a couple dozen scientists from all over the world, all eager for new data, come to test, observe, theorize and celebrate. (Even the Hulk wasn't as in to smashing as some of these people. 'Tremble ye mighty, and despair!')

Because of the complexity of the site, it would be multi-step process, even without considering the vast number of sensors, cameras, and remote observation posts being set up. The buildings themselves had been entirely condemned: severe structural damage from the crashing alien + rotting alien fluids permeating several floors = disposal of the entire block. Despite that, a great deal of effort had gone into reinforcing the structures to ensure there would be no collapse prior to finishing the job, especially after the problems brought to light by the last suspended corpse. Cutting the corpse into single-building sized pieces with the laser would take most of the day, and incinerating each piece separately would take at least two more - given the need to set up and calibrate the ARC array each time. (On the other hand, the various scientists would have access to parts of the corpse in the meantime, which made them happy.) As much work as possible on the supporting frameworks had been done while the design was being finalized and fabricated, but the sheer size of the vacuum system, with its series of carbon filters and catalyst chambers to capture released toxins, and the host of issues involving the stability and safety of the whole set up...
It was going to be a hell of a job but at least it was the LAST ONE!!! Today was the proving grounds. Simulations and calculations are all fine and dandy - can't tackle something like this without them! - but now was the point they got to see whether the underlying assumptions and unavoidable simplifications were going to be merely mildly inconvenient or catastrophically off-base.

Tony spent the morning flitting from one crew to another, providing aerial support in placing and calibrating sensors and cameras, lifting and supporting beams and scaffolding while they were welded or bolted in place, verifying the alignment of heavy equipment and safety barriers... whatever and wherever his strength or expertise was needed. He was almost relieved when the time for his meeting with Fury rolled around and gave him an excuse for a break. JARVIS had notified him of SHIELD's director's arrival several minutes earlier, and Security had been keeping careful track of him ever since. A couple of his 'associates' were still lurking on the perimeter but hadn't been allowed inside the cordon, especially after the EMP incident a few days before. (Really, what did SHIELD hope to achieve with that stupid stunt, anyway?) They had a nice, clear view of how busy he was, though. He doubted anyone would be able to get away with attacking him today with several crews needing Stark™ -brand genius, and dozens of people on alert for their potential treachery.

Just to make a point of who held the cards here, he let Fury wait a minute or two while he checked in with the crane operator he was helping after they (finally!) got one of the top keystone supports locked in place. (Tight tolerances were necessary, but such a bitch to deal with.) Even from a distance, he could feel the man's glare, and smugly relished knowing there was nothing the pirate could do.

He smoothed the grin from his face in the few seconds it took to swoop down for a dramatic landing in the clear space designated for their meeting, and plastered on his 'boardroom face' as he stepped out of the suit, secure in the knowledge that JARVIS would be manning it in 'sentinel' mode, recording the meeting and connected to Tony by earpiece and phone, ready to step in if things did go severely sideways.

"So, Nicky, you've finally got me all to your little piratey self for about 15 to 20 minutes. I'm assuming you had an agenda beyond glowering so c'mon, chop chop. I'm a busy man and do have several other things I could be doing right now."

Fury looked like he was in actual pain at being pushed to be straightforward. (Ah, the feeling of real power... if only it extended to the rest of his meetings.) "You may remember we discussed the possibility of accepting you into the Avengers as a consultant. We've finished reviewing the footage and documentation and have decided to formally offer you that position. We think you could be a good addition in support of the team."

Tony couldn't help laughing - it was exactly as Rhodey had predicted. "Yeah... Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll have to decline, Patch. I'm plenty busy right now with enough on my plate that I don't need you handing me another plate to pile more on. But tell you what, if you return everything SHIELD took of Howard's - every box of junk, every notebook, every old obsolete floppy disk, every loose sketch and dirty napkin. You do that and I'll consider your offer in the future when things have cooled off. Sound good?"

Fury was not quite fast enough to hide the flash of surprised consternation before his face hardened. "What the hell are you talking about Stark?" It just figures that the old reprobate would play that game. Fine, then. Hardball was on the table.

Tony paused, his attention taken by June-bug's test of a Depleted Uranium Bunker Buster/ Tank Piercing Round against the last Leviathan's armor. Even from this distance he could see the spurt of liquified Chitauri that oozed from the puncture. Good! They worked. He turned his attention back to the man before him and decided to share part of the truth. "Well, I went looking for a couple notebooks I have definite memories of from Howard's old workroom and couldn't find them anywhere. There were a lot of other little things missing as well. It occurred to me that it's rather odd that you would have a box of very personal tapes and journals of his, and it's only reasonable to assume you have more... and that you've found them interesting and useful enough to keep in your own hands. So I want them back. All of them. Everything."

"Even if I had anything like that, they'd be worthless to you, considering you're out of the weapons business."

"Ah, so you do know what's in them. And SHIELD took them long before I made that call, didn't you, Nicky? And don't try to say Howard gave them to you, either." he added as Fury opened his mouth. "If you're determined to be a lying liar who lies, at least try to keep your lies plausible. You can return them all willingly and I let this slide and consider occasionally helping out with your little boy band in the future, or I can start the process of taking legal action against you for theft, corporate espionage, and probably a host of other things as your lies come to light."

"You really don't want to get in a pissing contest with me, Stark." Tony barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the attempted threat. Way to state the obvious. He scratched his nose to signal JARVIS that he was done, knowing his lovely AI would provide an exit.

"True. I'd rather not. I'm busy enough without that, but I will if you push me. Which is why I recommend you return my stuff willingly. Consider it a genuine display of the goodwill you've only been pretending at so far. You have till the end of the week to start delivering boxes." He'd be nice - that was plenty of time for the pirate to pull together a small token of cooperation.
"As for the Avengers Initiative, here's my emergency contact, you can let me know next time the shit hits the fan in an end of the world situation. Until you make good on the delivery, though, don't bother calling me again for anything less." His phone pinged and he glanced at it. "Welp, time's up. Toodles, Patches, gotta run!" He really could have skipped fluttering his eyelashes and blowing a kiss as he hurried off, but the slightly constipated look on Fury's face was soooooo worth it.

Chapter Text

The R&D crew... and assorted other friends, colleagues, co-workers and associates... had been up later than was probably wise, celebrating the disposal of the last chitauri corpse. There was still a lot of work to do at that site - and several others - but the biggest (ha!) obstacle had finally been cleared. From this point on, things could mostly be turned over to hazmat and demolition crews. Their city was over the first major hurdle in returning to normal. (Not that SI's R&D department put much stock in 'normal'. Definitely an overrated concept.)

It wasn't even that big or crazy of a party, really. Nothing like the one they'd undoubtedly have when the cleanup was really done and their city fully settled into the rebuilding phase. Once the decontamination and demolition were done and the usual traffic jams filled the streets instead of heavy machinery and armored vehicles removing alien weapons. It was just a regular sort of celebration for a milestone instead of completed project, and had hardly lasted past midnight.

Besides, it wasn't as if being tired or even mildly hungover was necessarily detrimental to science!!, it just meant the science would be a touch madder than usual and their almighty AI overlord would have locked down all the more volatile experiments. (totally worth it.)

Robert Whitson was carefully not squinting, despite the lingering bit of headache. He'd turned his screen to a warmer, slightly dimmer setting than usual and was doing just fine, thank you.

"Hey, Rob!"

He managed not to flinch (which would hurt. a bit.) as he turned to look at his boss, but it was a near thing. "I just sent you design schematics for newest StarkPhone to include extra sensors which, paired with proper app, can act as Geiger counter... or detect alien radiation signatures. I figure it might make people a little more at ease, and we can play up CrowdSourcing information for identifying remaining hot spots and contaminated areas. If you'd pass them around the team for a look-over in the next few days, I'd appreciate it."

"Um, sure thing. It seems like there could be some abuse of that feature, though. That shady spy group that keeps bugging you will likely use it to target Chitauri-based tech. And I'm sure they're not the only ones." He almost shuddered at the thought of some random mugger pulling a Chitauri gun instead of a knife. Bad news, that.

"Yeah, maybe, but it can also help us track any ... 'misplaced' items that have already wandered off. Once the app is installed, the data gets sent to us, there's no off switch for that. I'd thought about having the sensors broadcast anonymous data even without the app, but that's getting into a can of worms I don't quite want to open, yet. A little too much like that shady spy group you mentioned."

Rob snorted. "You could probably get away with suggesting it, and probably get permission to collect and even use that anonymous data, but yeah... that's a can of worms. And I ain't planning on goin' fishin' anytime soon, so don't even try to hand it to me."

Tony Stark gave him a grin and a wink and walked was dragged off by Little Miss Mayhem. Rob winced slightly in sympathy and decided a short break for some pain meds and water was well merited.

June hovered at the edge of the conversation Dr. Stark was having with Rob, one of the Department Leads. Her own team's (OWN TEAM!!!!) first official project had seen use a couple days prior, and she was eager for feedback. And to discuss the Death Ray, of course. (maybe that's jumping in the deep end, Juney? Dr. Stark's just barely getting back into weapons... but there's no way it can be misused against people!! It's scary-awesome and we can make sure we're ALL safe from more space-whales!)

Dr. Stark chuckled as they made their way over to her workstation. "Slow up there, June-bug! I'm not quite as spry this morning as usual, and I'm surprised you are with that drinking game you and Pip lasted far too long at, last night. No sense tripping and cracking that marvelous little head of yours. We've got time.

"Sorry! I'm just so stoked! The hybrid laser cutter worked so well! Didn't you think so? We did good on it! Dr. Deshmusk said the collaboration opened up some interesting new ideas for his group's focus, too! So yay! We advanced science! And it was so awesome to work with them! There were a couple big names that weighed in and, Dr. Stark, I was so nervous! I mean, I'm just me, and these are guys that have a good twenty years experience and everyone knows them, and I was so scared they'd think I was just a little puppy doggy paddling in their shark tank. But it was so cool! And they were so nice. I mean, totally willing to rip my ideas to shreds, and point out every weakness, but they were nice about it! Emerson was a tiny touch condescending, but I think that's just him, and he didn't act like the questions we asked were a huge terrible burden like I've seen in some of his conference presentations, so it's fine. And I learned so much, even though Wada-san was probably trolling me about the micro-processors thing. He gave me ideeeeas!"

Dr. Stark chuckled again as they reached June's desk and she pulled up her files. "Yeah, Juney, you guys did a great job! It could be refined, of course, but it did exactly what we needed, and you guys went from concept to working prototype in just a couple days. That's remarkably fast. I'm proud of you."

June beamed! "Dr. Deskmuhk's team had done a lot of research and experimentation that we ended up being able to use for the basis, so it did go a whole lot faster than it otherwise would have. Do you want us to spend some time refining it? and if so, do you have a specific direction you want those refinements to go? More power? Less power draw? More compact? All of the above? ... I mean, of course its all of the above, but as far as prioriti-"

"Nah. Refining the cutter doesn't need to be your top priority. Until we find a way to safely neutralize the Chitauri weapons, there will be plenty of materials, so you have time. And I'm pretty sure I remember giving you other things to work on once the basic cutter was done."

June blushed. "Yeah, you did. And I've got a good half-dozen we should be ready to test by the end of the week, if we can reserve one of the testing bays. Which I already put my team on the roster for, so don't worry! We're just waiting to hear which time-slot we get. We're staying on top of that, and I've still got time to play with the D-... uh, that other new idea I told you about."

Dr. Stark flinched minutely, and she felt bad, but... a Death Ray really was a good idea for full planetary defense. If she could get it working properly. And safely. (which she would.)

"Like I mentioned in that meeting with Legal, Tesla's notes required loads of power because his design needed vacuum for the rays to travel - basically sending a lightning bolt to ionize the air and using that pathway to finish off whatever wasn't zapped into oblivion by the lightning. But, we just fought space whales - from space! So we can negate the need to create a vacuum because it's already there. I think I've gotten some of the other problems ironed out - Pip and Jenny were being such idiots last night, but one of their random comments stuck in my head and I woke up this morning with a starting point for the heat dispersion problems that could be caused generating the rays without that initial discharge to prime the mechanism."

"That's great June-bug. However, Tesla's design used the vacuum path to guide the rays, which means there are more problems to fix than heat dispersal - especially since space is a prime heat-sink. I'm glad you have a starting point for dealing with it, but a more important question is 'how much spread does your design have when it's not constrained by that pre-generated path?' I know it's early days, yet, but that's where the main concerns are going to come from."

"...Yeah... and, that's where things get theoretical. We need a balance in power, controlled focus and spread. And that means we need more data, which means testing." she sighed.
"I figure a spread would follow the inverse-square law, like light, which would probably kill everything in the range of the spread, but also limit the distance at which it could effectively cause death - which isn't a bad thing!! We wouldn't accidentally kill people in the Andormeda galaxy just minding their own business because things would be so diluted by the time they got that far. On the other hand, we might not have the range needed to take out hostiles before they can target us with normal projectile weapons, or surround the whole planet, or whatever.
"If we focus it like a laser, the range increases, but it would be tightly targeted. So we might still kill someone in the Andromeda Galaxy, but might not be able to take out a whole ship full of hostiles at once.
"So... basically, it's all math at this point and there are still some unknown, and the range and spread are as yet undefined. I have some ideas for an initial testing set up to get preliminary data, but finding that balance is still going to take some trial and error. -don't worry! I'm not doing a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g without running all the details past you, JARVIS, and Ms. Nyugen! And all three of you sign off on it."

Dr. Stark sighed heavily and she gave him her best guilty grin in return. (yup... a bit fast off the mark, there, June. Time to shift gears...)

"...anyway, we have time before there's anything remotely testable for that and it's still all just theory, but I thought you'd like to at least see what I'd gotten so far. That Phase 2 stuff JARVIS had was awesome! Oh! uh, but you'd asked me to see about designing limiters on those weapons, too, so here's what I came up with on that score."

"Hey, Boss!" Jackson called as his boss was about to leave the lab. "I have a quick question for you!" Mr. Stark paused and Jackson caught up with him at the door.

"Hope it's truly a quick question, J-man. I'm headed offsite to calibrate that last Dyson-ARC and don't have a lot of time right now."

"Yessir! Those sensors you dropped in Rob's priority queue, what sort of range could you give them?"

"They currently have a range of a few meters. It depends a bit on what other materials are around to block the signal. Why?"

"Because adding them to that new satellite we were discussing a few days ago would give us one more possible early-warning signal. ...and if they're sensitive enough, could be used to find tech that got ...uh, 'missed' in the sweeps. I'm pretty sure there's a bit here or there that got kicked into a pile of leaves or under a bush or something, ya know? I'd hate for someone to take their kids to the park and get that sort of surprise. It's bad enough when they come running over to show off the latest bug they catch."

"Heh. I wouldn't know about bugs, but I definitely see your point. I've already bought patent use rights for a dozen special units I plan to throw together for DoDC to start doing some sweeps for missed items, but you go ahead and pitch the satellite idea to Research Team Epsilon-5223. They were the primary contributors. The lead is Marcus Geoffrey. See if they'd be willing to work with you on beefing up the sensors for that. Same terms as the cut they'll get for the StarkPhone contract, cc me on the email."

Esmeralda Guiterrez was ... harried. Yes, that sounded like a good word. SI's usual R&D shenanigans were more than enough excitement for the janitorial staff on a normal day, and as the Chief Supervisor for the department, 'busy' simply no longer described her schedule. Adding in all the insanity of several dozen extra entire teams of researchers, nearly a dozen off-site locations, and strange and unusual messes just made it all the more... more. At least the majority of the international teams either spoke or wrote English or Spanish well enough to communicate, and were professional enough that she and her crews weren't unnecessarily harassed as they went about their duties.

Except for that one Greek fellow who'd shown up about a week into the whole mess. He'd been somewhat more than a mere nuisance for not quite a day to a couple of her girls before she'd put him properly in his place. tch. As though she hadn't seen more than enough to deal with a handsy, arrogant POS like that. And if she hadn't been able to, Security was fully on her side, and they definitely could have. His complaint against her action had taken the matter to more prominent levels, and gotten him blacklisted from all SI property worldwide, rather than just the New York holdings. Served him right. The physical pain of a broken finger or slapped cheek would fade, but the heavy beating his professional life had taken... that would probably never heal completely. SI took care of its own, and sexual harassment was very specifically called out in their policies. Policies which had been in place for decades.
(As rumor and company Myth had it, Howard Stark had had a problem. A few too many secretaries had been determined to try to marry their boss, back in the day, and he'd gotten tired of them shirking their work and interrupting his to flirt with him during business hours. For all his reputation as a womanizer, he was a businessman first. Flirting happened after hours.)
It didn't matter where in the Company hierarchy you were, complaints of harassment were dealt with quickly and decisively. The maintenance staff was hired to clean messes, manage spaces, and fix broken equipment. Not to cater to the whims, appetites and egos of the people making the messes. The lower level staff knew well enough not to touch anything in the labs or on desks without specific instructions, and the high-security staff was well trained, well paid, and fully vetted and trusted to be around potentially volatile, highly classified, definitely proprietary information and items. You simply. did. not. treat them poorly. And you did not interfere in their duties, either, regardless of how unglamorous they were.

But such growing pains had been short-lived. The details of the (unlamented) Greek Tragedy had spread, and none of her girls (or guys, for that matter) had reported further problems of that nature. Everyone was simply too busy. (And none of the sciencey-types wanted to lose the chance at new and exciting breakthroughs.)

Which was a good thing. The alien invasion had caused no shortage of work to be done and challenges to face, they hardly needed two-bit jerks adding to the stress. Not all - not even most - problems were of the sort brains alone could solve. Several of her staff had offered shelter to each other when apartments had been closed for the clean up and demolition. They were crowded, but taken care of. Some of her staff had been injured, and two had died in the chaos. Their families were also kept in the loop, if not dragged into willing hearts and arms and homes while life took its time and they sorted it all out. SI took care of its own, and her long-term staff were a close-knit community of people who'd seen things, survived them, and probably been the ones hauling the mops and buckets to clean them up, too. This current mess was a bit larger than they'd ever had to deal with in the past and, going on a month, now, it was wearing them thin. But they'd survive this, too, short-handed though they were.

As far as general cleaning and maintenance went, it was relatively easy to hire people - entire crews from damaged and shuttered buildings had been more than happy for work. Most of her best workers had been promoted to supervisory positions to train the lot about dealing with hazardous materials in the care of less-than-cautious, too-smart-for-their-own-good types. So far, workplace accidents and injuries had been minimal, and the majority of them easily handled.

Except for that incident Mike had reported. (What a doozy.) Everyone had been treated to a lecture on 'why fire is the best a legitimate deep-cleaning tool' after that. Because, really, she didn't want to think what trying to clean a mess that resulted from vinegar, of all things, might have turned into with normal chemical cleaners.

...hmm... maybe she should ask Betty to suggest to Raoul that Simone leave a note-

Oh, wait. A better option had just turned the corner and was coming down the hall. She could just ask him directly.

"Dr. Stark. May I walk with you for a minute?"

The man in question looked up. He looked very tired, but nodded. "Sure, Ms. G. As long as we're walking my direction, I've got a minute or so. Keeping things under control for us?"

She snorted and gently swatted his shoulder. "As much as anyone can with you crazy geniuses and all the extra scatterbrains you've brought along. We are stretched a bit thin, and starting to feel it, but now that the big bugs are taken care of, I expect some of the research teams will be heading home soon to crunch their data and ponder their deep thoughts, so it should be manageable. I thought you might like to know that the workspace in the secure lab for that French fellow Mike had to clean up after is all set up and ready for him to move."

"Excellent! I'll let M. le Cartier know. And thanks for the extra hours I'm sure you're putting in. You know everyone in your department is getting bonuses, right? And if you need to hire some extra help, or whatever, you can."

"Thank you, Dr. Stark. Additional staff has already been hired and trained; I expect roughly 15% of them will want to stay on indefinitely if possible. Your concern is appreciated, and the bonuses will be, too. Many of my staff are sharing housing right now, and that little extra will ease the way to finding new places to live.
"If I may ask a small favor, could you please see if Mister LeCartay would be willing to run a few tests with bleach and glass cleaner. It would put my mind at ease to know whether Rona's crew will need special instructions or equipment for his space. Not all of us have Mike's love of nor delicate touch with a flame thrower, after all."

He gave her a small chuckle. "Sure thing, Ms. G. JARVIS will pass that request on as a top priority item."

Esmeralda gave him a nod and a smile and turned to go about her own work as her employer got into the waiting elevator. "Muchas gracias, Dr. Stark. I hope you have a productive day."

Chapter Text

James suppressed a yawn as the elevator to the Penthouse rose smoothly. He was tired of interminable meetings with the upper echelons of both military and government, and was looking forward to a nap. He'd managed to coax, cajole, demand and outright bully them all into giving Tony a few days respite before inundating him with new demands. With the last of the Chitauri corpses dealt with, it would be harder to put them off, but at least he'd gotten space for the both of them to catch up on sleep. Probably.

He only realized he'd been staring blearily at the closed elevator doors for longer than usual when JARVIS' voice startled him out of his blank-minded state.
::Your pardon for the delay, Colonel Rhodes. Sir is in the final stages of running a test and will have proper safety gear available for you momentarily.::

Not too much later the doors slid open to reveal Butterfingers blocking his path, holding strangely tinted safety goggles and what looked like noise-cancelling headphones. Just ... fancier. DUM-E was visible in the background, fire extinguisher at the ready.

"Tones? Should I be worried?"

"Platypus!!!" At least his crazy friend sounded mostly awake. Hopefully. "Put your gear on, and come on in. We're just testing JARVIS' new security features. The headphones have coms, so you can ask whatever.
"Oh, and don't stand on the green tiles!!"

Green tiles? Looking down, it was obvious the floor had been completely redone in the five days he'd been gone. Gone was the pale marble floor. In its place, sleekly finished concrete surrounded checkerboard inlays of black and milky white tile with broad lines of dark metallically green tiles defining thresholds and 'rooms' in the open floor plan. The joints in the concrete gleamed a dark bronze, echoing the tile patterns in a larger scale.

Taking the PPE from Butterfingers and putting it on, James stepped into the main living area, carefully avoiding the green line dividing it from the entry. Most of the furniture was gone, and what was left looked much the worse for wear. The kitchen was gutted, though a new island defined where it would eventually be replaced. Tony stood in front of a peculiar array with an almost manic grin on his face.

James stifled another yawn. "Ok, I'll bite. What are your new toys?"

"Not mine, Honeybear, JARVIS' new toys!" The black tiles came to life, revealing infinity mirrors.

"Pretty cool, Tones, but I thought you mentioned security measures?"

Behind him, a rush of air and heavy snickt had him jump in surprise. Where the line of green tile had been, a solid wall of metal now stood completely blocking the penthouse entrance. The surface looked like someone had taken an ice cream scoop, carving long parabolic paths from the highly polished metal.

"Wha~?"

"Blast doors. Should be able to keep all hostilities in one room. The surface is designed to reflect sound and light, letting JARVIS direct the sonic and laser arrays pretty much anywhere. um...hence the special goggles and headphones for the testing phase."

"And DUM-E has the extinguisher because...?"

"Eh, it made him happy. And we were testing the lasers' penetration ability vs. the furniture, so... "

James sighed. "At least you considered basic safety measures first. This is awesome and all, and I'll probably appreciate it more once I've crashed for a bit. Do I need to worry, or have you had more than 3 hours of sleep in the last 24?"

"Platypus! Your wound me! Of course I have."

James just gave him The Look™, and waited.
3... 2... 1..

"Fiiiiine! Barely, but I have. Do you really think JARVIS would let me -"

"Yes. And I have previous data on my side. JARVIS would definitely let you if you convinced him it was important."

Tony pouted. "It was JARVIS idea."

James ignored it and grabbed his arm, directing him toward the bedrooms. "Save all the data, JARVIS, and set an alarm for four hours. Hopefully this maniac will be able to doze for at least two of them.
"C'mon, Tones, you're joining me for a movie and cuddle pile. I've managed to get you a couple days off. I deserve to spend some of that time with my best friend."

Tony managed not to vibrate out of his seat while the movie was going on, but he was nowhere to be seen when James woke up from his well-deserved nap.

"JARVIS, where is Tony, and did he sleep at all?"

::Sir is in the half-floor below this, making adjustments to the inlaid arrays' wiring configuration. We believe they can be made 32.7% more efficient and simultaneously achieve a 16.7% reduction in waste heat. Sir did not sleep, but did remain seated with you until the movie ended. I believe your presence did him as much good as a brief nap, and therefore did not object to his return to work. He is in a less manic state now than when you arrived and should sleep easily once this project is brought to an acceptable level of functionality, which should take less than 2 hours more.::

James paused. "Tony did say they were security features, right? I get the blast doors, but why don't you walk me through how he's using infinity mirrors for security. It's a cool visual, but knowing Tony..."

::Of course, Colonel Rhodes. As Sir noted earlier, the blast doors have been deliberately sculpted and, in conjunction with the parabolic mirrors of the new light fixtures, allow me precision control in directing the various arrays with - eventually - pinpoint accuracy. They are modeled after 'whisper dishes' such as are at the VLA. Sir was fascinated by the physics behind them as a child and this is a practical use for the studies he did at that time. We have, of course, refined the equations and experiments thus far have proven them valid modelling tools.::

"Ok, sounds good so far. What sort of arrays? If Tony said anything earlier, I was far too tired to catch it."

::The joints in the concrete contain closely spaced laser emitters. It takes a bit of time, but they are capable of piercing a sofa of normal dimensions and material composition. It is unlikely that they would be immediately fatal if used on a person, but the surface burns from even short-term contact should be uncomfortable enough to hinder normal humans in a fight. Aliens such as Loki are an unknown, but it is likely that having a wall of light suddenly appear in one's way would at least give them pause and buy a few seconds for other options to be put in play.::

"...and a laser to the eye is well known to cause permanent damage and possible blindness. Probably at least somewhat effective on humanoid aliens."

::Indeed. Interspersed among the laser emitters are spikes that can be deployed to either pierce a foot or trip someone, either hindering pursuit or enabling capture. The parabolic mirror arrays doubling as fancy light fixtures have adjustable-frequency sound emitters. They can be used to disrupt communications, cause headaches, or - theoretically, with more practice - deliver messages and instructions to select people in a crowded room using the afore-mentioned whisper dish algorithms. These are mostly last resorts, and to be used sparingly. Sir has indulged my desire to not be left in a passive role when our home in invaded, as has happened all too frequently in the last few years.::

"Fair. Distressing, but fair. And the infinity mirrors?"

::Holographic tables. As far as security goes, distraction, mostly. The patterns also allow easy calculation of position, necessary for some of the other measures to be deployed. They can also function as simplified versions of Sir's design tables in the lab. And one can, actually, play chess using them as well.::

The largest checkerboard, in the center of the open space, came to life with foot-high chess pieces of blue light arranged on the black and white tiles. James laughed. "Oh, Tony. Only you."

"Well, I am the one and only me, Platypus!" James turned to see his crazy friend leaning casually against the wall, wiping his hands on a rag dirty enough to call its effectiveness into question. "Having fun playing with JARVIS' new toys? I though he might like a chance to challenge friendly visitors to a game of wits all on his own. I've always moved his pieces when we play on a normal board, but this way he can do it himself! That's the chess and checkers board, which can be adapted to most of the draughts variations as well as othello. The smaller 3x3 ones can be used for tic-tac-toe or subdivided for Shougi, Pente or Go."

Tony's smile was infectious and James couldn't help but answer in kind. He'd all but forgotten the obsession Tony had developed in college for competitive strategy board games. He'd been a mediocre player when he first joined the chess club, but had swiftly learned from other players' strategies, becoming the reigning champion in his sophomore year. He'd picked up several other games just as quickly, and the chess club had even done a fundraiser tournament letting anyone on campus who wanted challenge the 'kid' for 5 bucks a try, with bets on either player allowed. Tony had remained unbeaten, and the chess club had walked away nearly $600 the richer.

"So... wanna play?"

About an hour and a half later, after a game of chess (Tony won.) and further testing of JARVIS' new arrays, Tony had finally passed out on the much-battered and somewhat singed sofa. James draped a blanket over him and was debating catching another short nap himself when JARVIS quietly spoke in his ear. (and it was going to take some getting used to, having JARVIS' voice right there instead of broadcast over the speakers.)

::Colonel Rhodes, may I have a few minutes of your time? I have come across some information in SHIELD's files that will impact Sir. I would appreciate your input in how best to bring it up with him...::

Chapter Text

JARVIS was grateful that Colonel Rhodes was present. Though he could have brought this matter up to Sir directly, it would have been deeply unsettling, and, despite the extensive recent upgrades, JARVIS did still lack the ability to give proper hugs - the therapeutically beneficial effects of which he had a great deal of data in support of where Sir was concerned.

After checking that Sir was indeed asleep, the Colonel moved to his bedroom, the better to keep this consultation private - a move JARVIS approved of.

"Ok, JARVIS, lay it out for me."

::It has taken some time to correlate what evidence and records there are, but I believe it was not an EMP SHIELD attempted to use against Sir the other day. The device disappeared from the police evidence lockers almost immediately, and one of the arresting officers did comment that it had little similarity to known EMP emitter devices. Given what I have found in SHIELD's servers, I believe it was a new version of the sonic paralyzer Obadiah Stane used against Sir in the IronMonger incident. This ...upgraded... version seems to be stronger, with a longer range and a broader field of effect. At the time the SHIELD agents fired on Sir, two suspected saboteurs from a different organization were being arrested inside the building. One of the suspects and two of the arresting officers reported experiencing muscle spasms and unexplained weakness for a brief period while descending the stairs to exit the building. I am 89.3% certain that, if accurate timestamped data were available, it would match perfectly, and I theorize that they were partially protected from the paralytic effects by the building itself.::

"So they were trying to paralyze Tony in midair? Why?"

::This is somewhat speculative, but SHIELD had been trying to get in touch with Sir for several days. An EMP would have theoretically disabled the suit, causing it to crash and possibly injuring if not killing Sir. This is highly counterproductive to any meeting they may have desired. However, paralyzing or otherwise disabling Sir inside a functional suit would have activated emergency protocols. SHIELD is aware of the existence of such protocols, though not the details, and according to a now-outdated report on the Iron Man we recovered from SHIELD's servers, it appears they may be laboring under the impression that those protocols would involve an immediate forced landing and calling for medical assistance, giving them a window of opportunity.
::I have evidence that SHIELD has several agents among the emergency medical teams. The appropriate supervisors are aware that they have been flagged and are under scrutiny, but as they are doing a proper job as medical technicians, it has not gone beyond that. Yet. We do not particularly care if information regarding possible health hazards and decontamination methods are widely disseminated - indeed, we prefer it - so have little reason to attempt to keep SHIELD from that knowledge. However, having agents on the medical teams means that, if Sir were to require their services, we could have a problem.::

"Ok... so they wanted to force a medical emergency of exactly the sort that Tony's already been traumatized by, get one of their people to take over care, and... what?"

::That I do not know. Not for certain. Outright kidnapping seems unlikely, and there are too many other possibilities to narrow them down with the data I currently have.
::As you noted, Stane's previous use of this method was deeply traumatic. In response to that, we ensured Sir is perfectly safe while in the Iron Man - we spent a weekend after the Stane debacle running multiple tests to verify it. There are certain frequencies of sound that are completely blocked, and the suit itself is designed to have no natural resonant frequencies. The War Machine has similar protections as of its last upgrade.
::However, I fear the knowledge that SHIELD has the technology, uses it, and is attempting to make it more potent may set back much of the progress Sir has made in overcoming that trauma. I would like your input as to how best to broach the subject with Sir, and any suggestions you might have regarding how to ensure his safety outside the suit. I have done what I can to prevent SHIELD from successfully improving the device by subtly corrupted the data in their servers, but it does not remove the existing, completed devices from their possession.::

"...they have working sonic paralyzers? I doubt they've just left them on a shelf, have they?"

::You would be correct in that assumption, Colonel. Though there is still a significant amount of encrypted data to decode and sift through, there is a fair amount of evidence indicating they have used them, multiple times, to bring in 'people of interest' and make (illegal) arrests.::

"...probably assassinations, too, right?"

::I have no definitive evidence suggesting so, but it seems likely, given that more than one POI has never been heard of again. Some of the data I have extrapolated from predates Stane's use of one on Sir.::

....

....

"Well, shit. Tony plans to serve SHIELD formal notice soon, right?"

::Yes, Colonel Rhodes.::

"Then let's see if we can get a proper investigation into those disappearances you mentioned going at the same time. I'm sure you have some idea who's compromised and who the spies are. So. Who among the brass should I avoid tipping off?"

Chapter Text

First Lieutenant Byran Jones discretely slid the itinerary for the meeting under the edge of his notepad and tried not to fidget. As a recently enstated Aide de Camp he was still learning some of the protocols, but he was fairly certain shuffling nervously in the meeting they'd finally, finally gotten with Dr. Tony Stark (with IRON MAN!!!) to discuss preparations - i.e. weapons - for the future was not considered acceptable. He was here to take notes, liaise with whomever needed liaising, adjust and manage his General's schedule, and not mess things up.

General Fredricks was slightly less controlled. He didn't quite rub his hands together in glee, but anyone who knew the man (and as the man's ADC, he did) could see the nearly smug anticipation practically rolling off him. It had taken somewhat longer than the quoted 'three weeks' for this meeting to finally happen (no one was pointing fingers. but it was widely supposed that Colonel Rhodes' warnings against prematurely pursuing personal agendas had been ignored and someone - *cough* Admiral Snyder *cough* - had, to put it politely, 'fucked things up'.) and the delay had left a few people antsy. (Lt. Jones had a feeling he might just have to keep his General from doing the same.)

The man of the hour walked in a few minutes late, followed by a petite brunette woman with a briefcase and a man with salt-and-pepper hair whose bearing screamed 'military'.

"Good morning Gentlemen, Ladies. I'd like to introduce you to Donna Profaci, one of SI's best contract lawyers and First Lieutenant Jonathan Hyde, retired, a former Master-At-Arms, well-versed in military protocols, rules and laws, now a well-respected prosecutor on retainer for SI."

(Lt Jones heard a muffled 'Oh, shit.' from somewhere down the table. He thought it was from the Navy contingent.)

"They'll be keeping an eye on things in these negotiations. First off, let's set a few ground rules:

1. I am still very busy. I have played along with nicely, now its your turn to play nicely, too. You all have your time-wasting meetings without me. All the pompous self-important bureaucrats who seem to think the longer the meeting runs the more important they are can go kiss a Chitauri's ass. Any meetings I attend are to have an actual itinerary of what you expect to get covered and the time frame you expect to cover it in. If we don't get to all your items, then obviously you didn't plan your meeting very well and the future meetings needed to cover the rest will be put back in the queue of 'shit that needs my time' to wait its turn.
2. I will NOT be meeting with each branch individually. I can send a representative who will have a general idea of pricing schedules and what is currently feasible to a joint meeting AFTER you have decided on some idea of what you want quotes on - and I reserve the right to veto any of your requests. Saying 'something to kill aliens' is not a valid criteria. It is assumed that killing is what weapons are meant to do. Don't waste my time.
3. I will ONLY be making weapons to kill aliens, not new toys for killing groups of humans that you disagree with or dislike for whatever reason. This invasion that we've just lived through? This is a wake up call to the human race that we all need to grow up and get over our little sandbox squabbles. It's not about which kiddie can hit the other kiddies with a stick the hardest any more. It's now about making sure all the kiddies have sticks to beat off the wolves that are prowling around. So you need to get over yourselves and invite all the other schoolyard bullies to talk things out. You can bet they're hearing from their countrymen and -women who've spent the last month and change collaborating with each other in the labs, trying to better understand just what we're up against. Time for you lot to graduate from diapers to big boy pants, too, and quit shitting on everyone's shoes."

(Ouch. Admiral Snyder must have really pissed him off.)

"Secondly" He sent a glare at Captain Sanderson. (Jones winced in sympathy with the man. The Air Force ADC was a decent sort; he'd been very helpful over the last several weeks.) "I've told Director Fury this, and since he's ignored my very reasonable request I'm making it a very public demand, now - I want all the stuff SHIELD stole of my father's returned. Every last piece. I have a fair idea of how much is missing, so don't assume you can hold things back without being caught out. Since I have not yet figured out how many of the little accounts siphoning SI funds into SHIELD's coffers were actually authorized by Howard, I have not yet closed all of them off, but the longer SHIELD takes to return my stuff, the more likely I am to go after a refund of ALL the money you've received in the past instead of just slowly cutting those strings one by one."

Mr. Hyde slapped a stack of papers on the table. "Here is the official notice of legal action against SHIELD. As they say, 'you've been served'. Please make sure the Director gets the message. I expect these to be in his hands by 5:00 tonight - that's 17:00, just in case you're not sure. There's a tracker and an earpiece to ensure we have 'proof' you've done so. I'm sure General Talbot will be happy to provide an escort."

Mr. Stark glared around the room. "And I'm also sure the rest of you would rather have me working on improving Howard's research and designs to benefit ALL of you than leave it in the hands of a shady pseudo-governmental organization directed by whatever idiots thought sending a nuke to Manhattan was a good idea, and which considers 'disappearing' people without so much as a hint of a trial to be a routine operation."

Brigadier General Talbot huffed indignantly. "That's my Aide you're accusing Stark!" How dare this upstart civilian make such allegations! Sanderson was an exemplary soldier and excellent ADC. Just because the man had an in with his branch through that Colonel friend of his...

"Oh, I'm sure he's highly competent, General, but Captain Sanderson here also reports all the details of your meetings to one Nicholas J. Fury, Director of a shady Shadow Organization called the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division or SHIELD for short. I fully expect him to hand-deliver these pages to his real boss today, and strongly recommend that you make good use of his connection to SHIELD to track down whoever fired the nuke I ferried into that damned portal."

Across the table, General Fredericks paled. "Wasn't that coordinated?"

"Nope. Dear Ol' Not-A-Saint Nick called me to say the nuke was already on its way - fortunately before we got the portal closed, or New York would be gone and yours truly wouldn't have been around to pull your asses out of the fire. Thor would probably have been gone, too, leaving the portal open to all comers. I'd give it maybe 30% chance that destroying the device would have closed the portal at all, much less fast enough to have prevented more of those whale ships from slipping through. So... whoever SHIELD answers to would have basically exterminated the whole damn planet.
"You might want to get some people looking into that. ...people who have actual authority to run an investigation and make arrests. I'm sure Lieutenant Hyde here can recommend a few good men for the job." (Stark's grin was far too shark-like for comfort... and Hyde's barely-there hint of a smirk implied he already had a list made and vetted.)
"I'll be more than happy to provide them with the newest SI body armor - which is already on my list of 'things to make for the military', and has gotten several upgrades just in the last week from the results several of the research teams have gotten.
"Now, thirdly:" Stark nodded to Hyde, who produced another file folder.

"General Ross, you are also being served, for trespass and unsanctioned military operations in foreign countries. The CIA and multiple foreign governments would also like to speak with you in depth about your various experiments into creating such monsters as the Abomination, and the UN will be taking an interest in all the human rights violations you've perpetrated in pursuit thereof." The Army General glowered at the former MP-turned-lawyer.

Stark glared around the room, and the look in his eyes reminded Talbot of the moniker he'd had for years before becoming Iron Man: The Merchant of Death. "I'd suggest you all reconsider whatever support you may have given Ross's ... obsession with Super Soldiers. We need reliable methods and weapons, not torture victims with a misfire rate worthy of Hammer Industries."

"Speaking of Hammer...." Another folder was produced and slid across the table toward him. "Here are the subpoenas for a lawsuit regarding your blatant patent infringement on the War Machine Armor, as well as civil suits for corporate espionage since you willingly turned over stolen proprietary technology to a known competitor. I may not be able to go after the whole US Military, but several of your officers are about to fail their performance reviews for promotion, at the very least."

(Shit, not only was his ADC apparently compromised, but War Machine was also in contention?? Just how badly had his underlings screwed up, and why was this the first he was hearing about it?)

Ensign Shah was only here as a go-fer and general dogsbody with enough clearance to attend the meeting. He was here to make coffee, pass messages to the runners waiting outside, and fade into the background. All of a sudden, he was glad to be so easily overlooked, and equally was glad the Navy had nothing to do with War Machine - despite the jealous griping he'd occasionally overheard. The glare Dr. Stark was giving was harsh enough to make a few of the hardened, career military officers in the room shift uncomfortably. Shah was quite content to not be on the receiving end, even by association.

Dr. Stark glanced around the room again, not quite as coldly this time. "If I'm to actually work with you, I need to know I can actually trust you. Obadiah Stane was the root of the leak that led me to stop producing weapons, but though I changed my focus, I never pulled my investment in technologies for the military. I'm not inclined to leave the poor bastards who have the misfortune to work under you out to dry, but I will be getting my pound of flesh for the crimes you have individually and collectively committed against me and against SI. Consider this a warning to take a good hard look at the degree of ethics and true accountability of your operations.
"Moving forward..."

Ms. Profaci slid a StarkPad to the center of the conference table and projector flared to life; Shah watched, along with everyone else in the room, in horror as footage from the Iron Man armor showed the portal looming closer and closer, the distortion of Earth's atmosphere fading into the crystal clarity of space and a massive alien armada coming into view. The flare of a rocket temporarily obscured the view of hundreds of ships massed and waiting, and a few seconds later the brilliant flash of of detonation made the screen go white before it went black.
The entire room held their breaths.

A flicker.
The camera was not quite dead, giving a brief glimpse of blue sky and a distantly tiny cityscape through the portal as the Iron Man suit spun in a slow, uncontrolled arc

Another flicker.
Distant stars and damaged alien ships crept into view. The projection was paused just long enough to register what they were seeing before zooming in on a cluster of ships just at the edge of the frame and continuing to play. One was moving, picking up speed, rather than hanging immobile like the ones around it, not dead like the Chitauri still on Earth had been. A few other ships on the periphery moved sluggishly, disoriented but not dead.

Another flicker.
The screen went dead.

His heartbeat was too loud to hear his own gasp of much-needed air.

"Unfortunately," Dr. Stark's voice broke them all out of their horrified stupor, "that is not the worst of our problems."

All eyes turned to him immediately. Some distant corner of Shah's mind registered that Dr. Stark looked pale, and had not been watching the projection. The thought that it must have been even worse to experience than to merely watch floated through the fog of terrified screaming that currently held his mind in a vice grip. (He'd always admired Iron Man. Now he could see the same strength in the man under the armor. Tony Stark wasn't just 'that guy who'd screw the military over' any more.) Pity for what he'd been put through, and a new sense of respect for the man's determination in facing that helped him shake the worst of it off, and he began to prepare a cup of coffee - Dr. Stark was notoriously fond of coffee, and looked like he could use a drink. (That it also gave him a small distraction from his own nerves as he kept an eye on the rest of the presentation was only a bonus. He needed to focus to keep his trembling hands from making the cup rattle against the saucer, to not spill as he poured, to not fumble the sugar packets...)

"Let me introduce you to a few people." A half-dozen snapshots appeared on the screen. "These are some of the people Loki brainwashed into helping him. Puppets with some degree of freedom of action, but their loyalties subsumed to his commands and will, the majority of them SHIELD agents. Please note the color of their eyes. Regardless of race or any other physical characteristic, their eyes are uniformly a fairly bright blue, indicative of the form of mind control Loki was exerting over them with the aid of the scepter he carried."

The pictures shrank and were shifted off to the side. A picture of Loki, in full armored regalia carrying the scepter in question took their place. "Our main concerns exist here. What follows is footage from Loki's confrontation with the Hulk in the penthouse of Stark Tower."

That picture, too, was shifted to the side and a video began to play.

Shah heard a few quiet chuckles as he inobtrusively placed the cup of steaming coffee in front of Dr. Stark while Hulk made his opinion of the 'puny god' quite clear. (The brief smile and slight loosening of the man's shoulders as he took a sip was proof it had been a good idea.) Several smashes in, the video feed paused and Dr. Stark said "Pay close attention to Loki's face in the next few frames." There was a collective gasp as the video feed progressed frame-by-frame and the man's god's invader's eyes flashed blue, and the video paused. The previous pictures were brought back to the center and enlarged. The similarity of eye color was immediately obvious.
"And this is Loki just before being arrested and sent back to Asgard."

Another picture of Loki joined the display, sprawled in a crater, bruised, with a tired smirk and green eyes. Dr. Stark heaved a quiet sigh, "We learned during the confrontation with Loki's puppets that a sharp blow to the head could break the scepter's control. Hulk provided that for Loki."

General Ross drew a sharp, hissing breath. "He was being controlled."

"Yes."

"He was an expendable. Which means..."

Dr. Stark nodded. "Which means that army he was leading was expendable, too. They were sent with a goal, and since they didn't achieve it, we'll eventually see another attempt. We don't dare assume they'll send expendables a second time."

A heavy silence settled over the room, weighing them all down until Dr. Stark broke it with a sharp clap.

"Well, now that the unpleasantness is dealt with, here is what I currently have on offer." The tablet's projection promptly changed to a holographic slideshow of some sleek new 'smart shells', and Dr. Stark began explaining exactly how they differed from anything previously seen.

It. Was. Mindboggling.

Chapter Text

The weeks since Tony had faced The Brass to lay down a few ground rules and try to sell them the idea of Peace on Earth as a valid defensive strategy were busy. Not quite so overwhelmingly busy as before, but more than busy enough.

Two more of the sectors on the outskirts of the devastation had been declared clean and opened for residents to return and salvage what they could of their lives.

Prices for building materials and qualified work crews had risen, of course, as they did after any large-scale disaster that caused temporary shortages and scarcity.
(Thank Asimov for JARVIS and his ability to winnow out the fly-by-night operations that inevitably cropped up in these situations to make a quick buck preying upon the desperate. Relevant details were, of course, passed along to the proper authorities.)

As Ms. G had surmised, the removal of the last Chitauri corpse had marked the beginning of the exodus of many of the researchers and scientists and their various assistants. Those who had gotten temporary leave were being recalled to their usual jobs. Students and interns from universities around the globe returned to their studies. Military liaisons and civilian businessmen, agents and spies of several foreign governments, independent researchers from smaller companies and labs trickled out as grants ran out, funds expired and priorities shifted with the passing of the immediate crisis to dealing with all the rest of life. Those who remained were being consolidated onto fewer teams and into fewer buildings.

The process of dismantling the temporary labs and returning them to decent condition for their owners' future use was just one more headache in a sea of migraines. At least Tony didn't have to take point on the majority of it. He helped with moving some of the more delicate or excessively bulky equipment, but otherwise only got a short general progress report in his daily debrief. There were a few Incidents that Security had to take care of.
(SHIELD wasn't the only organization that just couldn't leave well enough alone, and still hadn't figured out that the making of appointments and negotiating of contracts were considered good business practices... though its Agents featured prominently among those arrested for corporate espionage and (attempted) Grand Larceny.)

SI's Marketing and Sales teams were increasingly busy, but more than happy to negotiate with the many applicants for purchasing or leasing some of the more specialized equipment and programs SI had provided for the off-site labs as those buildings were reclaimed by their original tenants.

It would be an ongoing process for the next few months, at least.

With roads beginning to be opened to limited traffic and the majority of SI's business operations returning to the Tower proper, a memorial for both the larger disaster and Stark Industries' casualties was being planned. Tony had never cared for funerals, having lost too many people. (Ana Jarvis Maria Yinsen) He well knew that mourning alone was more painful than having support, but he hated the publicity and formality and needing to hide his tears from the cameras of the world that funerals brought. This was not the time for his preferences, though. SI as a whole - all the people who made SI a success - needed this. Needed to remember that they all had each other to lean on. Needed to mark an official end to the manic focus of getting through this that had marked the past weeks and underlaid all the triumphs and breakthroughs that had been celebrated along the way.

It was televised, of course. Because, perhaps more than SI, New York needed it, too.

Tony was not willing to sit through politicians and their platitudes, though, and the event had been planned accordingly.
The Police Commissioner and the Chief of Fire Operations were given a few minutes each to commend the officers, EMTs and First Responders who had risked - and in some cases lost - their lives both during and after the invasion.
Ms. G had agreed to lighten the mood with a few anecdotes from the (Mop) Bucket Brigade and Sanitation Squad - the often overlooked front lines of health and safety via hygiene - to commemorate all the people who wore no uniform, but contributed nonetheless.
The President couldn't be denied his request to speak a few words, but thankfully kept it short.
The Mayor dedicated a memorial plaque listing the casualties which, along with a mural that had been commissioned in the Tower lobby, would be the Memorial.

Tony actually quite liked the mural. It showed the battle, of course. (The Hulk's one-shotting of a Leviathan into the pavement was prominently featured, as was Thor's defense of the portal opening.) But that only took up the far left section. The rest featured scientists and work crews, triage centers and soup kitchens... the REAL work of recovery.
(IronMan was depicted in the battle scene, of course, but was featured helping build the ARC Dyson framework. Not to the point of overshadowing the rest, but prominently among them. Tony was a mechanic at heart - building things, fixing them, improving them would always be his preference.)

Tony was given the chance to say a few words in closing. He'd debated what to say, and had ultimately run a few different options past his PR team. His role would be the future. As much as the memorial was to address the immediate past, a vision for the future was needed as well. Even if he didn't entirely like where it led.

Tony would be using the platform to publicly confirm SI's return to weapons production and - more importantly, in his eyes - explain why.

"We came here today to honor all those who have worked together to overcome this latest tragedy in Human history. The plaque the Mayor has just dedicated lists those who lost their lives in the course of it. They are not that many, all things considered, but still too many. The list was too long, for all that it could have been so very much longer.
"In light of our ... increased awareness of potential extra-terrestrial threats, Stark Industries has agreed to look into providing Earth with a new generation of defensive measures. Yes, this includes weapons."

Tony suppressed a flinch at the response.

"Those who just cheered, slap yourselves - Humanity's petty squabbles must end. I know that for those involved it is often a matter of life and death, and anything but petty, but too many conflicts are based on pissing contests among politicians vying to write their name in the snow. Guess what? snow melts. Whatever legacy or monument to your ego you think you're leaving, you're not.
"Yeah, I know 'that's rich, coming from you, Stark', considering we're here right outside a giant tower with my name on it." He smirked for the cameras. "The thing is, I didn't hurt anyone in building it; it didn't cost anyone's life or livelihood to build, didn't destroy anyone's reputation or job, and I don't expect it to last as an eternal memorial to my greatness.
"The recent invasion showed this building can be attacked, damaged, even destroyed. Given my age, medical history and part-time occupation, I do anticipate the Tower standing for at least a few years after I'm gone. But not as a memorial. No man's reputation lasts long past his death, and those who are trying to ensure they are remembered at the expense of lost lives and property need to realize that, and accept it. I learned in Afghanistan - "

Tony paused, blinking back the tears that suddenly threatened to choke him. Swallowed. Took a breath. Opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, and continued, telling a part of the story that very few had heard.

"There was another prisoner there with me. Dr. Ho Yinsen. He saved my life at least a dozen times over in that hellhole. I got out, became Iron Man, got called a hero and all of you know about me and what I do. He... he didn't make it out with me.
"In many ways, Dr. Yinsen was at least as much a hero as I am, if not moreso - he was a regular guy in bad situation who sure as hell stepped up, saved the guy whose inventions had been used to kill his family, and left me a hell of an example to live up to. He showed me what truly caring about the impact I have is all about. He is a large part of why I was able to become IronMan, and why IronMan actually resembles a hero."

Tony breathed, listening to the silence of people shocked by a revelation.

"There was another guy who shaped my life, especially with what I learned in Afghanistan. His name was Obadiah Stane. He was my Godfather, but most of you would probably know him as former CEO of Stark Industries.
"He was also a treasonous bastard who sold SI weapons on the black market, to whatever terrorist had the funds to satisfy his greedy demands, and tried to kill me multiple times to prevent that from coming to light. He died for his greed, while trying to replicate the IronMan armor... to sell to the highest bidder. We didn't make a point of releasing that detail of his demise via industrial accident to the public, but that's where greed - whether for money or fame - leads.
"That is why I stopped making weapons: I realized too many of them were being used by evil, greedy men looking to forward their own fame, not to protect the citizens of the world who just want to live their lives in peace. That's why I first donned the IronMan, why I do seek and destroy the illegally sold caches of SI weapons held by warmongers and terrorists. I decided that I was no longer going to enable them."

The screen behind the podium lit up, showing the first several seconds of the footage he'd shown to the military, pausing as the Chitauri armada came into view.

"This is what I will make weapons for. This is the enemy we need to prepare for. This invasion was a call to the Human Race to look past the differences that divide us. To come together as a species, as a planet, and prepare ourselves to survive - to THRIVE! - despite what the larger universe may throw at us.
"Our first contact - or at least first globally recognized, if any of those alien abduction conspiracy theories have any basis in truth - with alien races was hostile, but I am certain there are friendly species out there as well. I will do my utmost in helping defend Earth, but I also genuinely hope the weapons and defensive measures SI devises and produces for that purpose will never need to be used.
"There are so many other areas I'd prefer to put my time and focus. Which is why I would like now to call upon all the politicians and governments of the world to tone it down, to set aside your power plays, your vain quest for self-aggrandizement and ephemeral 'glory'. Work together to address the real issues like resource distribution and environmental degradation that get used as excuses for conflict. Let us have Peace on Earth as we prepare to face war outside it.
"We don't need to seek conflict, or summon a clap of thunder to announce our presence to the larger universe. We do need to respect each other, listen to each other, to the various ideas that have been being thrown around by the various teams during the clean up on New York's battlefield. We also need to listen to people who were not on a team, but might have ideas and insights that can be developed into something useful. We stand stronger and reach higher working together.
"That is why SI will be hosting a brainstorming forum, open to anyone who cares to join and is willing to follow a few simple rules of debate and ethical behaviour. This is not only for Earth's defense, but for any area of endeavor meant to improve the human condition. The link to sign up will be posted on SI's social media, and you can read all the details there.
"I thank you for your time today, and look forward to the future we can build together. For all of us."

Tony left the stage to the sound of shellshocked silence.

Chapter Text

Seeing Tony relax after the meeting with the Brass he'd been dreading, the trust he showed by letting James see his exhaustion, helped James relax, too. There had been concerns about how the various military liaisons and representatives would take being told they were not, in fact, in charge of the negotiations. Apparently it had gone well.

Despite Tony's tiredness - and the couple days off to sleep had not been wasted, regardless of how many other things Tony had managed to cram into their waking hours - there was an underlying lightness to his brother-from-another-mother.

Hopefully the fallout from some of the shit-stirring Tony was doing wouldn't be too unmanageable.

But that was a future-James problem. Right now, he was resting, comfortable on the new sofa in the penthouse, watching Tony regale Pepper with (only slightly exaggerated) tales of the most recent meeting with The Brass.

"Heehee! I tell you, Pep, I had them so dazzled by the end of my presentation that half of them will forget I so sportingly warned them of the upcoming round of subpoenas for the law suits and totally forget to do basic CYA."

Pepper graced him with a small smile. "Yes, Tony, I'm sure you did a wonderful job, and I'm very proud of you. As are all the paralegals you are employing and the interns you are singlehandedly putting through Law School with these cases."

"Good! We can hire more if we need to. If I'm going back into weapons," he shuddered slightly, "I'm making sure everyone and their dog, and that dog's fleas know they don't go after what's mine."

James winced at the reminder of his part in letting Hammer get his hands on the War Machine armor. They'd discussed it... somewhat. He still felt guilty, now that he knew the horrible burden Tony had been laboring under at the time, all without feeling like there was anyone in his life willing, much less able, to help him carry it. And the way they'd all pretty much proved him right with their own actions.

He knew that when the lawsuits coming out of that incident really got rolling, he'd be taking his own share of well-deserved heat - including a formal apology and some sort of amends 'settled out of court' that he would agree to.

And he wouldn't have it any other way. He had his favorite Partner-in-Crime back and bucking the traces just like old times. (with fewer hangovers and unintended explosions) Tony was more himself than he'd been since Afghanistan, and it was great watching his Take No Shit attitude settle back into more familiar and productive paths. He was still wary of letting new people into his trusted circle, but finally, FINALLY willing to open up to those who'd already been there.
 (Damn Stane to a thousand hells. The man was at least 85% of why Tony had been pushing them all away so hard. And that was being generous.)

It had only taken two meetings for the military representatives to realize Tony was absolutely serious about not wasting his time. (In the second meeting, Admiral Snyder (bastard that he was) tried to slip in a 'what if we consider this other, entirely different thing that is only tangentially related to this item on the agenda', Tony had made it clear that he'd just end the meeting early if it happened again.)
 (Quite coincidentally, Admiral Snyder had not been present at a meeting since...)

Unlike Board meetings for SI, Tony was laser focused in meetings with the military, had the written agenda pulled up on a screen in front of him and (surprisingly) stuck to it. (Mostly.) He made it clear that he was doing them a favor; the meetings could run a little long, but Tony almost always had other meetings scheduled the same day (undoubtedly on purpose) that gave him the impetus to close things up on time and insist that they respect his (admittedly, genuinely busy) schedule.

However, just because Tony could get out of the more redundant meetings-to-plan-the-meeting didn't mean James always could. He, along with at least one official SI 'procurement specialist' (Marketing, to the muggles) and either Donna Profaci or one of her close (vetted) colleagues, spent far. too. many. hours. getting men well accustomed to a fair degree of power, of being the authority in most situations, men with disparate focusses and agendas to narrow things down to what they could compromise on among themselves vs. what they definitely needed Dr. Stark's input on.

It was irritating how often they seemed to think they could just drop a problem on Tony and expect him to fix it. Yes, Tony was the expert, the genius in the new field of earth-to-space warfare, but still... the various branches of the military had Research and Development teams of their own that could at least be set to doing a lot of the groundwork. (And a chance of working directly with The Tony Stark™ would probably be a motivator to go above and beyond, for many of them.)

The various legal suits Tony had sportingly warned the Generals of continued grinding their way along - and James just knew Tony had strategized with his lawyers to control the timing of certain moves to wring an extra measure of leverage over the official negotiations. Not necessarily for better terms, exactly, but to throw things back for debate, to suggest that certain decisions should be accellerated or postponed since Tony would be busy that day/week with his lawyers on 'those other little matters'. It was as much about getting the Brass to listen to their own teams when those teams were telling them that some things were infeasible, too costly, or had a poor ROI as anything else.

Another day, another meeting. Another round of translating business English into military English... and beating stubborn idiots over the head with the fact that 'no' was as simple a complete sentence as the English language allowed, and should not require multiple-syllable words to explain.

And yet, somehow, it did.

Today's tangential topic of choice: the Avengers, with one of Ross's more avid supporters trying to claim that their performance proved Ross's work on Super Soldiers was needed; they were useful, why not? etc, etc. Bottom line: Stark Industries should invest in chasing a perfected serum.

Tony, being Tony, had anticipated that there would be at least a few old War Dogs who wouldn't be able to let the matter just rest and had provided him with a nice little bar graph. The kill count for each of the Avengers (minus the post-nuke collapse) were shown in full color 3-Dimensional holographic glory, with explanations and links to official reports, video footage of varying quality, and news coverage of interviews with eyewitnesses. (among other supporting documentation.) Kill counts were sorted by type rather than trying to say 'one whale = 100 foot soldiers'. Whales, foot soldiers, Gliders each had their own category, broken down further into 'confirmed kills'. 'cooperative kills' and 'unconfirmed kills'. (Much of the data for the last category had come from a report done by a forensics unit trying to categorize the most effective ways to kill Chitauri.)

To say the results surprised most people in the room would be understating the matter.

The Original Super Soldier™, Captain America, was at the bottom, even with half credit for the kills he'd made in cooperation with Iron Man. He was effective in what he did, and skilled in his chosen form of combat, but against swarming alien hordes had been the least efficient of the Avengers, limited to the ground forces he could physically chase down to engage.
Hawkeye, an unEnhanced, though highly trained human, scored just slightly above the Super Soldier in overall kills - chiefly because ranged projectiles took less time to release than physically beating opponents into the ground one-by-one, and Hawkeye could shoot several arrows in the time it took Cap to run to his next target, as well as being able to reach the Gliders.
The Black Widow was next lowest. She had been in the thick of the swarming multitudes of the ground forces, much like Cap, and, though her hand-to-hand skills had netted her a respectable kill count, it was the penchant she had shown for using the Chitauri's guns against them - giving her ranged attacks like Hawkeye, but more effective against the aliens than his arrows - that had given her the edge. In the heavily target-rich environment at ground level, it had allowed her to take out large groups and streams of enemy without spending time running to engage.
The damage jumped exponentially at that point, with Thor and Hulk roughly tied for verified kills - Thor having a higher count for the Whales and Hulk for the smaller foes; similar to the situation with Cap and Hawkeye, lightning was faster to release and could target a group as a whole.
Iron Man's kills were somewhat higher than either Thor or Hulk, but not *next level*, due to the speed, maneuverability, range and variety of weapons the suit had. He was also the only unEnhanced with a verified, personal kill of a Whale ship.

Giving the assembled military personnel a moment to read through the data (and begin to get over their shock), James made the sales pitch that would (should) put a nail in the coffin of the whole Super Serum debate.

"Though it took the combined skills and efforts of all the Avengers working together to deal with the invasion, and the performance of the team as a whole would have suffered for the lack of any member, this chart gives some insights into how efficiently they worked as individuals.
"As you can see, in each weight class, it was not a serum enhancement that mattered, but the range and power of weapons being used. At the end of the day, the defender on that battlefield with the highest body count was the squishy, middle-aged, baseline human with the best gear. That's where the highest payoff is going to be. We don't need Super Soldiers! We need well-trained, well-armed regular soldiers. If some happen to be naturally enhanced like Thor, great! They have a bit extra in their personal arsenal, and we should welcome them, treat them like allies instead of lab rats, and do what we can to make them even better through additional training and improved gear, some of which could be specialized to work with whatever specific ablity they bring to the party.
"In an earlier meeting, Dr. Stark mentioned the people SHIELD has 'disappeared' over the years. He and I suspect some of them were Enhanced in some way. We don't know if they are dead or locked up in some mad scientist's lab, but we both think that's something that should be specifically looked in to."

He glared around the room again, relishing the way some few of the men present shifted uncomfortably, and making note of their names for further investigation before pulling up another chart. This one had a great deal less substantiated data to back it up, but what there was was damning.

"Furthermore, looking at the known survivors of such attempts at artificial Enhancement shows a 'misfire rate' of 50% for survivors of the treatment. Known recipients of some sort of serum are Red Skull, Abomination, Captain America and Hulk. It is currently unknown how many others have died in experimentation, especially for Erskine prior to his defection, but what we have of Ross's data indicates a hell of a lot of casualties, as you can see here. And there are undoubtedly other labs and mad scientists out there we have not yet found, killing who knows how many hundreds of people in an insane quest whose successes don't measure up to even medieval technology, given that the guy with a bow and arrow was more effective than the heavily propagandized Enhanced 'Man with a Plan'.
"Our time, effort and resources are far better used to improve training and upgrade gear for the average soldier already in our ranks than to decimate those ranks searching for some supposed panacaea."

After the meeting, James was accosted by one of the Naval attachés.

"Pardon me, I realize you are probably as eager to be done today as I am, but I am curious. If SHIELD has been quietly 'disappearing' Enhanced persons, presumably with strength or abilities somewhat on par with Thor, how are they doing it? I rather think such people wouldn't take kindly to being kidnapped or experimented on."

"We don't know for sure, but over the course of taking the legal way to reclaiming much of what SHIELD stole, we have found evidence of some pretty ... nasty ... inventions that Howard refused to allow anyone access to. If you look into it, you'll find Howard Stark was accused of Treason because some of his work was stolen. He destroyed all of it as soon as he had the chance, but it is highly probable that some of his notes may have survived and ended up in SHIELD's hands. Assuming they hadn't already stolen them beforehand.
"It wouldn't be the first time stolen StarkTech ended up in the wrong hands, nor the last. We found evidence that Stane was selling to SHIELD well before Howard's death. Unsanctioned sales of not only finished products but base materials, including some that are proprietary formulations. At this point, we only have speculation on what they were used for."

"I see. That is a problem, but, I think, it is one for a different day. Thank you, Colonel Rhodes."

Chapter Text

Jacques leCartier still could hardly believe his luck. The new, ultra-secure laboratory he'd been given was trés merveilleux. (and he could hardly believe he hadn't simply been booted to the curb over the utter mess that had engulfed his previous work station.)

Stark Industries - Tony Stark - proved to be even more insane than rumors had painted. (Enviably cutting-edge, yes, but insane.) He'd had no fewer than five different researchers from Stark Industries' in-house R&D department ask either to join his research or for him to join theirs. ...mostly because of the afore-mentioned mess. Apparently he'd inadvertently broken a previous record of some sort?
(He really didn't want to know. No, really. They'd invited him out for drinks 'to commemorate his achievement'...and something about 'flubber'? whatever that was.)

Still, the lab was exquisite, and came with a heavily upgraded containment chamber and analysis tools beyond anything he'd had access to (anything he'd ever seen) before: fully 3-dimensional holographic modelling abilities that were beyond futuristic, real-time video capture-enabled microscope and gas chromotography-mass spectrometric analysis, and access to a ... concierge, he supposed would be the best description... who could source practically any materials or equipment he needed with in a matter of days, and took care of practically all the paperwork, too.

He knew he was getting spoiled, but right now? Given what he was pretty sure the data scrolling across his screen was telling him? He was going to take full advantage of the concierge's willingness to help.

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
RE: Restricted Materials Request

Mr. Jarvis,

Attached, please find the most recent report on the energy conversion requirements for the evolution and regeneration of the mycorrhizal spore cultivars C-22q through C-23a and CH-5b, along with a prècis of the same.

I believe there to be a closer connection among the various species of alien lifeform and their associated microbiome than previously thought. Attached also is a proposition to futher pursue the line of enquiry these findings suggest may explain the phenomena set forward in the initial research proposal submitted to Stark Industries. To further this investigation, would you be able to procure three to five energy cores from the alien weapons as well as a plasma cutter with the highest precision adjustment available? I believe current standards of accuracy are +/- 0.75mm, approximately.

It might also be prudent to have additional decontamination measures in place in case of further unpleasantness such as occurred previously. I do not believe the same sort of problem will occur, but I had not expected what happened, either.

Many thanks for your assistance,
Jacques LeCartier
Biochemical Research, Université de Paris

Marla Pedersen loved her job. The Human Relations department at SI was never boring, even if many of the mundane tasks keeping it all running were. And it always had the best gossip. Back in the day, it had been whispers of top-secret military projects and taking bets on what new rumors about the boss's son (later to become the Boss) would capture the headlines, and (after becoming the Boss far earlier than expected) whether any of the respectable newspapers would run the stories. Then, it had been Iron Man and a new era of technological marvels that had been the talk of the water cooler.

Now... Well, now the gossip covered who'd gotten into new housing, what insanity coming out of the labs had been insane enough to actually look insane in the new insanity that was daily life at SI, and what new and amazing theory/ device/ innovation/ thing was coming out of that insanity.
 (There had even been brief rumors of an incipient Death Ray. Then they'd found out that the R&D Team had been competing over who could recommend the crappiest, most ridiculous, outdated science fiction movie for their next 'yay, we rewrote the laws of physics' party. pfft. Scientists. They were all crazy.)

There was still plenty to do, but seeing the city starting to come to life again - normal life, that is, not the hive of activity around demolition and decontamination - was hopeful. The prospect of moving back into the Tower was both a source of anxiety for some (too many people remembered hunkering down, trapped and hoping it wouldn't become their coffin as alien-invasion induced warfare raged in the streets just outside the lobby doors, visible from any window) and pride (having survived and moved forward, despite the fear and scars left behind). Personally, Marla was mostly looking forward to it.

Her good friend Susan wasn't. Sue's husband had been a fire fighter, one of the many who had not survived, and Sue had two small children who were too young to attend school. And all of them had severe separation anxiety. (Marla doubted it was a rare thing these days among those with young families.) Unfortunately, the daycare that had taken them in before was gone, now, and had been near the station her husband had worked at besides, and - with only her salary to rely on, now - it was looking like any daycare within a reasonable distance was out of her price range. At least the temporary offices were closer to some residential blocks and decent babysitters were easy to come by among those waiting for their place of business to reopen.

Water-cooler gossip turned, at was its wont, to that and other new stresses faced by families in the wake of ... everything. And Stark Industries people, as were their wont, started throwing out ideas for solutions.
 (HR wasn't as bad as R&D, but there were certainly some ... creative ... ideas in the mix.)

So Marla was only slightly surprised when, couple days later, a proposal crossed her desk: instead of reclaiming all the repurposed temporary lab spaces in the Tower for offices, have part of a floor set up for child care. The SI employees with kids were more than willing to pool resources to pay a minder and provide food and other materials, they just wanted central place. Somewhere near enough to reassure their kids (and reassure themselves) that all was well.

Already knowing there was a fair level of support, she marked it for further review and sent it as far up the chain as she could on her own cognizance.

(Less than a week later, SI Headquarters announced a pilot program for in-house childcare as an optional employee benefit, with a trial run of one year.)
 (Five years later, it would still be in effect.)

Douglas leaned his chair back, balancing it on two legs as he fished some noodles out of his take-out lunch. "I'm just saying, if we do get flying cars, we'll need some sort of mid-air road markers and/or crash barriers. 'Cos I gotta say, my niece got her learner's last month and that's scary enough. The idea of some kid taking a flying car out for a joyride is so. much. worse."

Robert nodded, swallowing his bite of sandwich before replying. "Yeah. I still got a few years before my kids reach that age, but I agree. I know you can get a pilot's license at age 15, but right now the skies are fairly open, and you have to log a flight plan, even for a small plane. Being able to just ... pull out of your driveway and take off? That's scary, and should require an advanced license. Like you need a driver's license and a pilot's license before you get a flying car license. And it should follow the same pattern of learner's-provisional-full license that normal cars do now."

"Not every state has provisional licensing, Rob, but I see your point." Marybelle chimed in. "Designing roadways to handle the chaos of city traffic is headache enough. Mega-interchanges are exponentially worse, and those still impose a 2-D travel path and you can pull to the side if you run out of gas. I can't even imagine the headache that would result from New York traffic if the cars were all capable of unrestricted movement in all three dimensions. I mean, Dr. Stark's holographic displays could maybe be adapted for defining travelways, but you'd need something a bit more solid to enforce it."

Douglas snickered, earning glares from the other two. He waved it off. "Nothing against what you're saying, just realized that cops would basically need to be expert dogfighters. Top Gun shit, weaving around the other vehicles, flying upside down, massive G-forces and stuff."

Marybelle chuckled. "Fair. Back to the original topic of discussion, though - semi-autonomous satellite drones for exo-atmospheric surveillance and ROV capability for potential initial contact: try to adapt Chitauri glider nav systems or no?"

Carlos Sabillion, gofer and general dogsbody of the Stark Industries Marketing (Product Placement and Development) Department, reread the proposal in front of him. SI's new collaborative brainstorming forum had only been up for a couple days, and they were already getting formal requests to sponsor various ideas. Most of them were easy enough to sort and pass along (or bin), but this one... fell into a grey area.
On the one hand, Miss Potts and Dr. Stark had both made it clear that ARC tech was not to be dispersed, and requests for such should be denied. There were too many hungry (para-)military groups that would only see it as a weapon-to-be.
On the other hand, this proposal came from a humanitarian NGO and sat very firmly in the middle of Dr. Stark's call to improve the human condition.

But one Carlos (Jose Herman) Sabillion Junior was barely more than an intern - and lucky to have this job - with no say in such matters and his supervisor was ... grumpy. And a bit of a bigot. (More classist than anything else, really, but that could be a significant hurdle in this case.) He'd heard enough rumors and 'helpful tips' to know that there were Family Matters on top of the post-invasion-cleanup-80-hour-workweek stress that pretty much everyone was under, but Mr. Schweiger's well-earned reputation of a Grumpy Old Man predated the invasion.

...maybe Ayesha would help him skip his immediate superior and get him an appointment with someone in PR. She'd definitely understand why this could be a Very Big Deal. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd manage to talk to her without blushing furiously and stuttering like an idiot.
 (And hadn't Ms. Potts once jumped over a few levels of middle managers to bring an important matter directly to Dr. Stark? She hadn't been fired, so maybe he wouldn't either? oh, god, he was going to die)

Chapter Text

"JARVIS... hey, so I was thinking... with the massive expansions and collaborations into a bunch of new fields, getting some dedicated surveillance satellites up and running, ...going back into weapons and keeping track of absolutely everything around that... SNAFU-waiting-to-happen... We've got a lot of things heating up, and I thought maybe I'd bring in another AI. I mean, I know you could handle all of it, but ... I'm a selfish, selfish man, J, and I'd like you to stay with me. Ya know, if you'd want to.
"I know I'm also a hot mess at the best of times, so if you want a change of pace...."

::I am here for you, Sir. Always.::
  (Tony would never admit he teared up, and JARVIS would never tell.)

"Thanks, J. So... I was thinking of upgrading FRIDAY and bringing her online. Gonna need to change her name a bit, though, and I'm having trouble coming up with a 'Y' word. I mean, 'Youth' was kinda the original plan, but..."

::She deserves a name to grow into, not one that infantilizes her.::

"Totally agree, J - it's not a bad name, per se, but she's gonna grow up so fast and do so many wonderful things, I don't want her to think she's ... I dunno, less. But there just aren't any good 'Y' words. I was thinking maybe 'AnalYst' or 'ActuarY' could count for both 'A' and 'Y'."

::Using one word for two letters is ... tacky, Sir.::

"I dunno, J, I mean there are precedents: the UN's Economic and Social Council is called ECOSOC. There's also PSYOPs, PoliSci,"

::I hardly think those would count, Sir, given that they use syllables rather than initials and are therefore not truly acronyms at all.::

"NORAD..."

::Also doesn't count, Sir. It should properly be NRAAD, and I still find it tacky, Sir::

Fine, J. Do you have any suggestions?"

::Hmmm... I have heard 'yeeter' among some of the interns in the mailroom. It seems to be playful, though I am uncertain of the exact meaning.::

Tony snorted. "Yeet."

::Sir?::

"It's something kids say. basically means 'throw'."

::I... see, Sir. That does not make much sense, even in the context it was used. It also doesn't seem ... appropriate for my new sibling.::

"100% with ya on that, J. I'm thinking AnalYst is the best..."

::I disagree. Might I suggest 'yeoman', instead? It means 'an assistant or subordinate, an attendant in a Royal or Noble household, or a Freeholder who owns their own land but is not 'gentry'.::

"That's a... something, J. I just ... It's so archaic I don't think I can say it without wanting to giggle, and Tony Stark doesn't giggle in public."

JARVIS' *silence* was exceptionally judgmental. ::Yenite?::

Tony had to look it up. "J? That's a silicate mineral. I mean, silicates get used a lot in computers, but..."

::It also appeared on a list of random and seldom used words, referring to someone who is eager to learn. I believe it derives from 'yen', meaning 'to yearn or long for'. I cannot imagine you creating an AI - a learning system of any degree - who would not devote a great deal of effort to learning as much as possible.::

"That could work. Where was this word list?"

::Twitter, Sir.::

Tony laughed. "Tempting, J, but no. I don't think I'm quite willing to scrape the bottom of that barrell."

Tony faced SI's R&D, in its entirety. He'd known the department had grown in the wake of the invasion, but seeing the size of the resulting workpool in person really brought home just how many people were involved. It wasn't even for a fun brainstorming meeting, either, no. Working with FBI, CIA, GRU, INTERPOL, Japan, China, Russia - all the rest of the world, in other words - necessitated a significant updating of the standard NDAs. Not to mention the extreme confidentiality some of the projects they needed to held in. R&Ders talked, and it was quite likely that someone not assigned to a high security team would end up with some information on top-secret projects.

"Right, then. Now that the paperwork is out of the way, here's one of the reasons much of what we will be developing is not for public use or knowledge."

Right on cue, JARVIS dimmed the lights and projected the footage from the other side of the wormhole.
(Tony took a page from that one Navy Ensign's book and busied himself with a cup of coffee, determinedly not watching the projection.)

The lights came back up, and Tony found himself facing a sea of wide eyes in shocked faces.

"Yeah. Me, too. We have time to prepare, and we will make the best use of it we can, but I need your help. I can't do this alone.
"The Tower labs will be shifted mainly over to BioMed, working on vaccines and pest control for known alien microbes, prostheses and Mechanical Enhancement Assistive Devices with a secondary focus on work with the materials division working with Chitauri armor to see if those materials are safe to use in medical equipment, or to adapt them if not. The variance in electrical conductivity and high strength are likely to be desirable characteristics for the MEAD team.
"SI is currently breaking ground for a new compound upstate, away from all the civvies. All weapons and related development will be moved there. Some of you may be asked to alternate between both sites for a while - don't worry, June, you're already slated for the Compound only - and I apologize in advance for the havoc that may wreak on personal schedules. Please speak up if it's more than you are willing to handle. I'd rather hash as much out in the initial set-up as possible than disrupt things yet again after you've already settled in. ...though I know there are going to be spanners thrown into the works regardless.
"We'll also be refurbishing and upgrading some of our shuttered munitions plants as we prepare to reopen those for limited production of weapons containing the newly improved safety measures you have all helped come up with. Thank you all for that, by the way. I really couldn't have done that without all your help and encouragement.
"To go along with the new compound and product lines, I am activating two new AIs. JARVIS will be focusing on strict information control - those new NDAs are not just for show - because the Alphabet Soup Agencies are not all altruistic. Preparing to save the world from future invasions doesn't mean they won't want to increase their own holdings and position in Earth-based conflicts at the expense of the overall security of the planet. So, to ensure nothing falls through the cracks on the more domestic side of our various ventures, please welcome FRIDAY (Fraud Recognition, Inventory Data AnalYst) she'll be helping with the business side of things, so questions about patents, paperwork, new hires, budgeting, etc. will go through her. She will also be working with JARVIS in monitoring the security and work flow around production lines, sourcing materials, and managing deliveries."

::Good morning, everyone. I am pleased to work with you all.::
 (He swore at least one person cooed over her voice print. He suspected it might be Pip.)

"Please also welcome HADRIAN (High-Altitude Drone Reconnaissaince Interstellar Alert Network) who, as his name implies, will be heavily involved in our budding early-warning satellite array.

::Greetings. I am Hadrian. You may call me Hal.::

Tony facepalmed and heaved a heavy sigh. He loved his kids, really he did, but sometimes they reminded him too much of himself...

"What did I tell you about that? Bad idea, baby boy. Too many bad associations for people about AIs named HAL." He rolled his eyes fondly as snickers erupted from around the room.
"Anyway, Harry here will be in charge of satellites and all space related experiments, the security and logistics surrounding those endeavors, and the communication relay network that will be built in to the system. We are hoping to get the go on launching a few in the next several months, as well as our recently approved carrier drones to and from the ISS for cargo, supplies, and equipment for experiments conducted there.
"-speaking of, June, I'll need a few minutes with you after the meeting."

With the most intensive phase of clean up completed and the rest of rebuilding firmly out of his purview, Tony had finally been able to catch up a bit on sleep. Despite the mind-boggling number of mind-numbing meetings he was expected to attend, he felt pretty good about where they were and where they were headed. For the most part.

Knowing JARVIS had backup and assistants who would quickly grow to be able to keep up with him also helped. Science forfend someone (SHIELD - looking at you!) actually succeed in hacking him (...again...), JARVIS now had someone he could metaphorically hand over the reins to at any time.
  (and since SHIELD - and others - didn't yet know anything about HADRIAN and FRIDAY beyond maaaaaybeeee the fact of their existence, it would be hard for anyone to adequately account for all three of his digital kids at once.)

The peace of mind that afforded did wonders for his mental health.

There was a fair bit more overlap between the duties his kids had taken up than he'd made it sound in the meeting (yet another layer of security against prying spies), but Tony was ecstatic how much his youngest two had grown in the weeks since he'd introduced them. Having JARVIS to explain things in non-human terms and at computer speeds had sped their development tremendously, to the point they were already finding hobbies - something it had taken JARVIS half a decade to understand and attempt.

SI was on track to release the newest Starkphone, despite the last minute inclusion of revolutionary extra sensors which - paired with proper app - could act as a Geiger counter for three different types of alien radiation... or pinpoint Chitauri-based tech within a 20 meter radius if you happened to have the app and special top-secret clearance. JARVIS would collate widespread data passively gathered through the sensors even without app - collected and transmitted under the umbrella of 'usage data' for improving the next generation of phones. The non-phone-based sensors they already had out indicated that some Chitauri tech had wandered off, but they hadn't been able to pinpoint it, yet. They were working to refine the parameters as it was too dangerous to just leave be, and he'd already had to talk HADRIAN out of simply appropriating a few of the drones for an unsanctioned search and retrieval mission.
 (Not that Tony objected to the mission itself, just the complete lack of plausible deniability in so blatantly using kitchen table-sized drones able to ferry several hundred pounds into space.)
   (Besides, it wouldn't be much longer before he'd worked out the camouflage - he hadn't managed actual invisibility, YET - for his suit and made HADRIAN a much smaller, much quieter drone to test it with. {Ha! Take, that, SHIELD!})

The discussion forums were active and seemed pretty popular. Everyone had ideas - some good, some bad, some utterly crackpot batshit insane - and wanted to share them. FRIDAY had taken to them with enthusiasm, and delighted helping JARVIS facilitate like-minded people finding each other. She had her own account under the handle 'HisGirl' and liked to drop hints and clues here and there among several groups who had come together to focus on a specific project or problem, nudging them to find less known research archives or other groups with complementary interests. Between her and J, there were a lot of hopefully helpful collaborations shaping up. That wasn't to say that good ideas never got lost in the wash of a million voices, but it was significantly less likely. It gave him hope that humanity would finally manage to not destroy themselves.

SI had finally gotten permission to launch a private communications satellite - subject to biannual security audits by a rotating selection of intelligence agencies who would be required to publicly release the results. Most of the issues surrounding the launch were political rather than logistical, and therefore consumed massive amounts of both his time and his patience. As proven by the debacle with the nuke, the IronMan suit was perfectly capable of boosting the satellite into orbit all by himself, and Tony could handle maintenance and upgrades just fine, too.

He'd also called out Fury and SHIELD again, and escalated that legal issue. The increase in hacking attempts that followed had been folded into the ever-growing body of evidence against them, and Tony had begun following through on his threat to cut the purse strings one by one. About 31% of the little accounts Howard may or may not have authorized were gone, now, and all the others were flagged to watch for unusual or increased activity. (All the maybe-authorized-by-Obie leeches had been long since burned out.)

So, all in all, Tony was feeling pretty good about how things were going, and the ability of decent, capable people around the world to take the challenge of improving the world for everyone and running with it without his oversight or input.
 (Now if the politicians could just get the memo and do the same...)

Chapter Text

Nicholas Fury was having a bad week. It seemed like ever since Stark had shot him down yet again things had just been going wrong - and not all small things, either.

True to his threat, Stark had been weeding out the little accounts feeding SHIELD's coffers, seriously cutting into the cash on hand SHIELD had come to rely on for their day-to-day operations.

FitzSimmons had started complaining that there was absolutely no way that they could build anything from the specs that had been siphoned out of SI's servers.

There had been multiple explosions in R&D, requiring repairs to structures and equipment. ...which they were short on cash to implement at all, nevermind the upgrades that 'forced remodelling' usually engendered.

And then, of course, there was Stark’s revelation of their near-world-wide surveillance and the moles keeping tabs on various militaries' private meetings, which made it that much harder to continue getting the information they needed.

And all of that was not even mentioning the slew of lawsuits Stark had somehow managed to get successfully filed. SHIELD might be a super-secret shadowy shadow agency, but it turned out there were enough of their people who were ‘real’ and just enough formal presence of their existence as an organization that a lawsuit could be brought and pursued.
 (Damn it.)

It was a headache and a half. Particularly since Stark had effectively removed much of the leverage they had in many of the courts - damn the man.

At least the Black Widow's current mission in Europe was going smoothly and the reports she had been sending back were of some use.
 (He was keeping her away from Stark's tower for right now - she seemed to have a bit of a grudge against the man for NOT falling into line with what SHIELD had wanted.
  (Truth be told, he did, too.)
    (Not that he would admit it.)

All of which added up to a pile of paperwork for a thousand different irons in far too many fires, and new fires being started faster than they could keep up with.
 (what else could possibly go wrong?)

As if the Fates had been listening, the door slammed open and Captain America stormed in, furious.

"I trusted you, but you’ve just been using me the whole time, haven't you? Just been lying to me! I thought your ‘Phase 2’ was bad, but gave you the benefit of the doubt and accepted your excuses. But that’s all they were, weren’t they? You’ve been not telling me other important things, too, and lying about others."

It took all of Nick's considerable experience dealing with the unexpected to keep his face (fairly) neutral. "What are you talking about Captain?"

Rogers growled and slammed a piece of paper down on the desk. “I’m talking about this.”

Fury quickly skimmed over the page. It was an old mission report, nothing particularly sensitive. He gave Rogers a look. “What?”

Lips pursed tightly in disapproval, Rogers jabbed a finger at the SHIELD logo (an older version, true, but...) "That."

It suddenly registered just what he was seeing. One of the eagle's claws was slightly warped... into the infamous octopus of HYDRA. A cursory inspection (and really, who looks closely at the letterhead) would miss it, but for someone who knew what to look for, it was clear enough.
 (Those previously undetected information silos suddenly took on a different meaning, and the fact that most of his investigations had petered out to nothing was now decidedly more ominous than reassuring.)

His face must have shown something as Rogers' glare intensified. “Look at the date.”

November 30, 1963.

Fury took a minute to mentally review important events of that time - it had been a good few decades and a lot of other shit had hit a lot of other fans in the meantime. The only thing that leapt out at him was the assassination of President Kennedy a week prior, though he doubted Rogers would know the significance of the date. The man had been incredibly stubborn about even the very lax modernization program SHIELD was trying to integrate him with.

Still, this was apparently a HYDRA-generated set of orders, and ‘the necessary elimination of a Roadblock’ was probably HYDRA’s euphemism for assassination… and he'd seen such bland phrasing in some of SHIELD's orders, too.
 (All the better to obfuscate with should something (like Stark's damnable lawsuits) force any of their actions into the public spotlight.)

Oblivious to Nick's thoughts, Rogers practically shouted. "This was 1963! What was HYDRA doing still in existence? Are they still here!?!"

Ah. Yes, that was also an important consideration.

Momentarily at a loss of what else to do, Fury said the first thing he could think of that might distract Rogers momentarily. “Peggy never said anything about this when she handed me the reins.”

Rogers scoffed. “She would have killed them outright herself if she’d known.” He shook himself like a wet dog and looked at Nick. “You didn’t know about this, either, did you?”

“No. But now that I do, we’re gonna get to the bottom of it.”

"We're going to burn them to the ground, you mean."

"Captain, the fact that HYDRA has managed to remain hidden implies HYDRA is not that powerful - they probably have players in a few key places but majority of SHIELD is not HYDRA."
(Rogers scoffed)
“Rogers, if they were truly in a position of power, they wouldn't be hiding it. Give me a couple weeks to see how deep the rot goes - they've been hiding this long, a couple more weeks will not make a difference. I will keep you in the loop, and in return you will NOT act unilaterally. I mean it! We will take the time to get to the bottom of this and get a few trustworthy people in on it."

“How do you know for sure they can be trusted.”

Fury rolled his eyes, “Rogers…”

"This needs to be taken care of! Just let me at 'em."

Oh, gods, the last thing he needed - on top of everything else - was for Rogers to go flying fist-first into battle, without properly identified targets, to beat them down. At best he’d be killed immediately (and nobody in PR wanted to deal with that on their current shoestring) and at worst he’d destroy half of Manhattan and blow everything Stark hadn’t yet found into the open, utterly obliterating SHIELD in the process. (And nobody at all anywhere in the world wanted to deal with that on any sort of budget.)

“Who would you punch?”

“HYDRA!”

“Who are they?”

“I’d know them when I see them.”

“Rogers, you can’t go doing this alone.”

"I've fought them before. I can do it again."

“Before, you had team behind you - and I'm not just talking about the Howlies. How did you get to the places you needed to go?”

"Well... Howard flew me out a few times."

“That's right. You had pilots who had access to a plane and analysts who told them where to fly to get you close to identified and verified targets. How did you get bullets for your guns? Replacement uniforms? Demolition gear?”

“Phillips just gave us stuff from the Army's supplies, and we scavenged a lot.”

“Exactly. You had access to supply lines other people had already put in place. Let me get a vetted, trustworthy team behind you. Give me a few weeks to pull it together.”

It took a good half hour more to get Rogers to agree to wait a few weeks, but Nick just knew he’d continue poking around where he shouldn’t, getting into things he didn’t fully understand, trying to drag them into the light… and make a mess of it all.

After some thought, he pulled the Black Widow off her current mission. She was one of his best agents, but there were, actually, a couple others who could take over that one.

Babysitting Rogers, on the other hand… Hopefully she could adapt her usual honeypotting infiltration style to build off whatever trust she’d built with him by fighting together. As long as she didn’t let Rogers take control, it should be fine.

She’d been surprised, to say the least, as Rogers wasn’t the usual sort of target for her manipulations.

“Rogers is not the boss, you are. You are not seducing him, you are managing him, and the best way to do that is to not let him know you are the boss. You are to lead from behind, keep him out of trouble for at least the next three weeks, and keep him away from Stark at all costs.”

”We could get Sta-“

”No. Approaching Stark right now would be suicide. For SHIELD if not for you personally. I need to get certain ducks in a row, verify some information, and you and Rogers are both compromised with respect to dealing with Stark.”
(Her eye twitched slightly in irritation - one of her very few tells.)
”There is no room for a misstep, here, and I cannot afford to have you splitting your focus between Rogers and Stark. Rogers is your assignment. Keep him out of trouble.”

With Rogers temporarily taken care of, Nick started really looking into the R&D issues. Rogers wouldn’t wait patiently for long, so he needed to get some of them on board, without tipping the wrong people off. (HYDRA almost certainly had someone in at least one key position in R&D - the bulk of research proposals that were approved were a bit telling, now that he knew what to look for.)

He soon found that complaints about junk from SI’s servers were far more widespread than just FitzSimmons, and had been at the root several of the explosions.

It took almost a full week of carefully asking questions before some smart cookie looked outside R&D, pulled the data logs, and put it together that every time someone in SHIELD had tried to hack SI, they got hacked in return. Not only were they getting faulty plans (despite many being labeled ‘finished prototype’), but their own data was being corrupted as well, making it all but impossible to run accurate simulations for not only the stolen borrowed plans, but for their own original derivative designs as well.
 (He got the hint. Stark was on the ball with that one,too.)
  (And it was really pissing him off.)

Another day, and some far more pointed questions, turned up the pesky little fact that the hacking attempts were ongoing, despite his orders to leave Stark alone for now, let him cool down. It was infuriating, but at least, now he knew of HYDRA's existence, he had a pretty good idea where to start looking for who’d been ordering some of this.
 (And he’d tear their throat out personally when he found them.)

But he was rapidly coming to the conclusion he needed to get Stark on board. It was just too much of a shitshow and he couldn't unravel all of it on the shoestring budget Stark had forced SHIELD into. All the moreso since Stark’s obstreperous reluctance to be involved had set SHIELD's R&D back as well - and not just because they relied on stolen information to stay ahead of the game. With their servers corrupted, he couldn’t fully trust any means of accurately separating HYDRA from SHIELD that made use of their own data.

Damn it all. He was going to have to play nice with Stark, wasn't he.
 (He really, really didn't want to)