Chapter Text
Thor arrived at the Avengers Compound in a flash of lightning, Mjolnir crackling with energy as he stepped into the wreckage of what was once a well-oiled team. What he found was disorder. Equipment malfunctioning, tension in the air, and a room full of defeated faces.
"What has happened here?" he demanded, voice booming.
Steve, looking weary, turned to face him. "We made a mistake."
Thor raised an eyebrow. "A mistake? More like a grievous miscalculation. I have seen the realm of Midgard in unrest, and Stark’s name is now sung in praise while yours is spat upon. Explain yourselves."
Natasha crossed her arms. "We tried to do the right thing. We thought Peter wasn’t safe."
Thor’s gaze darkened. "And you presumed yourselves to be better judges of a father’s worth than the man who has defended your world time and time again?" He scoffed. "Fools. Midgard has always been ruled by the bonds of family, not by arrogant warriors who deem themselves the arbiters of justice."
Bruce sighed. "We didn’t think it would go this far."
Thor’s lip curled in disgust. "Then you are blind as well as foolish. Stark was the lifeblood of this team, and you bled him dry." He slammed Mjolnir onto the table, the impact shaking the room. "You will reap what you have sown."
At Stark Industries, Tony smirked as he watched the live feed from the security cameras he had left operational just for this moment. "Well, looks like big guy finally figured it out."
Pepper leaned against the doorway. "Are you done yet? Or are you still making examples of them?"
Tony swiveled in his chair. "Oh, I’m not even close."
The next day, a report hit the media.
Clint Barton—Father or Fraud?
Leaked documents confirmed that Clint Barton had a secret family, a wife and children hidden away on a secluded farm—something the Avengers had conveniently overlooked while dragging Tony through the mud.
CPS didn’t overlook it.
Within hours, agents were at Barton’s doorstep, citing endangerment, negligence, and unauthorized exposure of minors to classified government operations. The kids were taken, placed in protective custody, while Clint was left standing on his porch, fists clenched in rage as the world turned on him.
Tony? He poured himself a drink.
Meanwhile, in the shadows, another event unfolded.
A location. A tip-off. A name whispered to the right people.
The Red Room had been hunting their lost Black Widow for years. And now, thanks to an anonymous informant, they had her.
Natasha never saw it coming.
She was alone, walking through the backstreets of a city she thought she had escaped to safely, when the darts struck. Paralyzing agents. No time to react. Before she could fight back, she was in the back of a transport van, bound, gagged, and on her way to Dreykov.
"Welcome home, Natalia," his voice sneered in the darkness. "We have so much to fix."
And then there was the Hulk.
General Ross had spent decades trying to contain Bruce Banner. Trying and failing.
Until Stark made a deal.
"You want the Hulk?" Tony had asked over a secured line. "I can make that happen. And in return, I want full rights to your anti-Hulk weaponry."
Ross had hesitated only a second before accepting.
And so, the next time Bruce transformed, he found himself on the receiving end of tranquilizers specifically designed to counteract his metabolism. The harder he fought, the weaker he became, until eventually, he collapsed, unconscious, bound in chains reinforced with Stark’s latest alloys.
Ross was waiting.
"Finally," he murmured, watching as Bruce was loaded into a military transport, bound for the lab. "Time to see what makes you tick."
Finally, there was Steve.
Captain America’s shield. His weapon. His legacy.
A legacy Tony now owned.
"Legally speaking," Tony explained to Pepper as he reviewed the paperwork, "every enhancement, every upgrade, even the vibranium analysis—was funded by Stark Industries. Rogers doesn’t own his own weapon. I do."
And Steve? Well, he found that out the hard way.
Mid-mission, he raised his shield—only to watch in horror as it short-circuited, powered down, and collapsed into useless metal in his hands.
Then came the second hit.
A new report.
Captain America: The Ultimate Test Subject?
Stark Industries had announced a breakthrough in medical research, all based on a very specific Super Soldier serum. A certain genetic blueprint—one only ever found in Steve Rogers.
The implications were clear.
Steve’s DNA was now Stark property.
And if Tony so desired, he could turn the first Avenger into nothing more than a test subject for every new medical experiment Stark Industries wanted to try.
"This isn’t over, Stark!" Steve had shouted into the phone.
Tony had simply laughed. "Oh, Captain, it was over the second you called CPS on my kid. Now? Now, it’s just fun."
At the Lakehouse, Tony sat back, watching the chaos unfold from a safe, quiet distance.
Peter was in the yard, playing with a remote-controlled car, completely unaware of the storm that had been unleashed on those who had wronged them.
Pepper poured a glass of wine, settling beside Tony on the porch. "So? Do you feel better?"
Tony exhaled, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his lips. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t cleaning up after the Avengers’ messes.
He was making them pay for their own.