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Chapter Text

...Tony Stark didn’t come back from Siberia that day.

Iron Man gone missing. Avengers in shambles and on the run. The world was shaken. Even though there has been a lot of controversy regarding the so-called ‘Avengers’, still— no one had dared imagine that a world without heroes was possible.

It turned out that it wasn’t possible.

Thinking that there was no one to stop them anymore, villains and criminals became more daring every day. The collateral damage the Avengers used to inflict during their battles started to look trivial compared to the damage caused by the villains gone wild.

The threat to public safety loomed bigger every day. In the end, people were forced to cry out to the Avengers for help. The UN hurriedly assembled an emergency conference. In spite of Secretary Ross’s violent opposition, 117 countries quickly came to an agreement regarding the necessity of Avengers.

T’challa, King of Wakanda and also the ‘Black Panther’, was also firm in his opinion.

"Numerous citizens are in serious distress", he said. "And the Accords are an unfinished business. It isn’t too late to discuss the matter afterwards. What we need to do know is bring back the Avengers and let them protect our people."

At last, UN made a public announcement. The Accords were to be suspended for now; they wouldn’t imprison or oppress their heroes. The Avengers would have their liberty. Their previous crimes would be pardoned.

So Steve Rogers and his friends came back.

The new S.H.I.E.L.D., led by Director Phil Coulson, was assigned the job of mediating between the Avengers and the UN. The reunited Avengers agreed in working together with Coulson in order to stabilize public safety. After a month or so, the world was nearly back to normal, thanks to the World’s Mightiest Heroes. The once-broken team was back to living together in the Avengers Mansion; they were back to working together seamlessly. Everything was going perfectly well.

There was no problem. No problem at all.

Except for the fact that Iron Man wasn’t there.

Tony didn’t know what do. The Arc Reactor was broken, the Iron Man suit nonfunctional. He was left behind. Alone. With nothing more than Captain America’s shield.

It was cold. It was painful.

He tried to get up, but his arms felt too weak. He groaned as he slipped and fell. Sprawled out on the icy surface, he blinked sluggishly. His ribs felt broken, and his body ached all over. He couldn’t contact FRIDAY, he couldn’t get out, he couldn’t simply move. He felt utterly, terribly lost— and in more ways than one.

Whatever. No one’s trying to find me anyway, he thought, letting his eyes flutter shut. No one cares. He sighed, letting his head drop and rest on the frozen ground.

And then-

Footsteps.

Tony blinked, feeling confused and groggy. Darkness was falling already— he must have fallen unconscious for an hour or so. The footsteps and voices were drawing nearer. He could hear their hushed conversations.

"Are you certain he’s here?”

“We’ve been keeping an eye on this place. No one has exited this bunker after Rogers, Barnes, and the king of Wakanda. It is highly plausible that Stark in no condition to move.”

“Good. Find him.”

What? Tony blinked rapidly. His brain was moving sluggishly, but his self-preservation instinct was screaming at him to run. He clenched his teeth and managed to push himself up from the ground with sheer willpower.

But it was too late.

A brilliant flash of light momentarily blinded him. Someone was pointing a flashlight at him. Tony instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light and scrambled away from the newcomers. Panic gripped his heart.

“He’s there,” a rough voice growled out. “Grab him.”

Damn it! Tony inhaled sharply and jumped to his feet. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Adrenaline madly coursed throughout his veins. His hand jerked upwards, but the repulsor was nothing without the Arc Reactor. It sparked and fizzled a few times before going completely dim.

Tony’s breath fell short.

No. No!

The men quickly realized that he was no threat and leapt forwards to grab him. Tony hollered out and struggled against their vice-like grip. One of them snapped out a syringe and plunged the needle into his neck. Tony’s eyes widened as strength rapidly left his body.

“No, no, no—"

Darkness churned and utterly swallowed his vision. His body fell to the ground with a heavy ‘thump’. The man who was smoking while he watched this scene unfold grinned and gave a quick nod. Two of his men stepped forward and lifted Tony Stark, suit and all, from the ground. Another stayed back to rid the place of any evidence that they were there.

Since everything was taken care of, they exited Siberia’s bunker soon after. A sleek black jet was waiting for them in front of the bunker. They loaded an unconscious Tony Stark onto it. The men also climbed in.

"Let’s leave,” the rough-voiced man said, incessantly chewing his tobacco.

"Heil Hydra," the pilot replied automatically. The jet started to lift.

The Avengers weren’t too concerned for Tony. Not knowing Tony Stark very well, they just assumed that he had taken a spontaneous leave and would return to them sooner or later. Only two of them didn’t share the opinion.

"Let it go. Give him space. He’s probably taking a break. He sure needs one," Sam Wilson said with a careless shrug. Steve Rogers shook his head. He looked troubled; guilt and worry was looming over his mind like a constant shadow.

“But disappearing- that’s not like Tony,” he murmured. Sam simply shrugged and turned away.

Nervously drumming his fingers against his lap, Steve took a furtive glace at Natasha. She was leaning on the balcony, an emotionless mask on her face. He hesitated before speaking up.

"I shouldn’t have left him there," he muttered. Natasha nodded, not even turning to look at him.

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

Steve flinched. She continued with a sigh.

“Tony Stark isn’t the man to take off like that; he’s more of a ‘I-will-lock-myself-up-in-the-lab’ type. He would have returned under normal circumstances. But there wasn’t a trace of him left in that bunker. Seamless disappearance?” she shrugged. “Never bodes well.”

And you’re partly responsible, Steve. You, who chose Bucky and promptly left Tony behind without looking back even once.

She didn’t say this aloud, but Steve could hear it nonetheless. He flinched again and leaned on the balcony, his head downcast. Natasha’s eyes softened at this.

"Director Coulson shares my opinion. Regardless of what the other teammates are thinking, the S.H.I.E.L.D. is actively searching for Tony. He said that he’d tell us immediately if they find him. Focus on what you can do for now, Captain.”

Steve nodded wordlessly.

"Anthony Edward Stark, we’d gladly accept and value your voluntary cooperation.”

Bloodied and bound to a wooden chair, Tony frowned when an all-too-bright light was shone upon him. He bared his teeth and grinned like a ferocious beast.

" Fuck you.”

The man carelessly gave him a shrug and turned his back against Tony. He nodded towards his subordinates.

"Begin the process.”

Another man walked forwards and grabbed Tony’s hair with a gloved hand. And without a moment’s hesitation, he pushed his head into the water. Tugged it back up. Pushed it back in.

Soon, Tony started thrashing against his restraint.

He screamed.

Chapter Text

Eleven Months ago-

“We’ve lost a lot and suffered too much. Who would have thought that Baron Strucker would get arrested and die in such a disappointing manner?”

The man with the rough voice puffs on his cigarette. He sighs, and white wisps of smoke swirls out from his mouth. Tony doesn’t lift his head. Water drips from his messy hair.

“So we’ve found ourselves limited in our resources. We had to go into hiding. Everyone knew about Hydra now, so we couldn’t use our previous methods. As a last resort we tried getting our hands on the super soldiers, but……”

That damned Sokovian had to go and wreck everything, didn’t he? The man lets out a playful sigh. Then, his hand shoots forward, grasping and lifting Tony’s chin. Their eyes meets. The brown eyes are dim and foggy. The man smirks.

“Well, I’d have to make do, then. Thankfully we have one bag of super soldier serum left. Not quite a lot, mind— after all, it’s the leftover we’ve managed to salvage after creating the super soldiers. But it’s enough to create one Soldier. What do you think, Stark? Won’t it be a nice new beginning for Hydra’s resurrection?”

“Why are you telling me this?" Tony chokes out. His breath fall dangerously short, but he still has enough strength to manage a grin. "Villains who are too fond of their own voices never win.”

“Oh, good. I see your resistance hasn’t died out yet. No worries— that’s going to change soon enough." The man let go of Tony’s chin. Weak coughs racked his body. Gasping for breath, Tony let his head drop. The man chuckled. “And why am I telling you this?"

"......"

With great effort, Tony lifts his head. The fog is gone from his eyes, and he glares at the man like he wants kill him. The man doesn’t care— he smiles. It’s a dangerous, unreadable smile.

"The reason I’m telling you this,” he whispers in a silky voice. His hands rest comfortingly on Tony’s messed-up hair. "is because you, Tony Stark, are going to be our genius Mechanic, our new Zola, and our Winter Soldier all in one."

Tony’s eyes widen. His heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

Bucky Barnes crushing his parents to death, no mercy in his steely grasp. The Winter Soldiers in the Siberian bunker, those dead, cold eyes. Howard and Maria, dead at the hand of Hydra……

No. No, no, no, no, no.

“Never,” he snarls, desperately tugging at his bound hands. The all-too-visible fury is really made up to mask the terrible fear he’s feeling at the moment. When his hands don’t come free, his head snaps up and he bursts out laughing. The laughter is incredulous and filled to the brim with confidence that he doesn’t have. He laughs and laughs as if he’s not the prey but the predator. But the mask is nothing but a mask, and his hands are trembling minutely.

“In Afghanistan they failed to crush me. That damned Loki couldn’t control me. Seriously? You think you can have me under your thumb, Hydra?”

"We’ve got a lot of experience and patience. With that one can achieve anything.” The man smiles. His eyes have the glint of the predator. He gets up. "Well then! Best wishes, Tony Stark. I'll see you later.”

Take him.

"We need his intelligence, not his memory. Use the existing Winter Soldier Program. Electrocution, frying the brain, erasing the memory, you know. The usual routine. Nothing special.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but a normal human being cannot survive such treatment. The Winter Soldiers had enhanced bodies, but Stark doesn’t.”

“It’s okay. We have the serum, right? It will upgrade his durability. He will survive.”

“Certainly…… with the serum’s effects taken into calculation, it will be possible to destroy specific memory neurons without killing him.”

“Good. Wait till he is sufficiently weakened. And then start right away.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pain.

Pain is red. Pain rips his body apart and drags it into a deep sea. It’s always there, even when you close your eyes tight and pray that they will never open again. It is a heavy weight pressing down on your lungs, just like the arc reactor.

This time, it’s worse than Afghanistan. At least the terrorists were idiots. The monsters that torture him here are clever. They’ve studied the art of breaking a human being for decades. They know how much someone can endure before they die.

Stop this. Please.

Just stop it. I don’t— I can’t—

Where are you? Why is no one coming for me?

When they come back, Tony can’t even find the strength to lift his head. They unbind him. His wrists are raw and red from being rubbed against the ropes. They drag him up from the wooden chair. He has spent eternity on it. So he hobble like a puppet when they make him walk. Where could they be taking him?

The world darkens and brightens sporadically. He blinks slowly. He’s in a room surrounded by white walls. They make him lie down on a smooth, hard surface. The man is looking down at him. He always stinks of tobacco. It makes him gag and want to throw up.

“Tony Stark. This is your last chance to offer your voluntary cooperation,” the man says. He grins like a shark. He already knows what Tony’s going to say. And he’s asking. Tony hates him for that. Pure and simple rage flares up in his heart, fierce and burning.

I’m not broken yet. Pepper, Rhodey, for all for you.

And I won’t give in. Ever.

Tony opens his mouths and spits blood at the man’s face. The man’s face hardens. Tony bursts out laughing. The man draws back and wipes his face with his sleeve. He nods.

“Understood,” he growls. He snaps his fingers. A scientist in a white lab coat scurries forward. He is holding a bag— the bag containing the modified serum. Before Tony can resist, two burly men come forward and restrains him. The scientist plunges a needle into his wrist. The serum starts trickling in.

Tony’s laughter soon morphs into a blood-curdling scream.

Stop it, stop it, stop it!

My body

             is

             breaki   ng

             down

And it hurts hurts hurts

The bone crumples and sticks back together with a sickening crunch. The muscle tissues are reprogrammed one by one. He can feel every one of the changes. A foreign drug is coursing through his veins. He scream and scream and scream. You went through this, Steve Rogers? How did you survive? Why didn’t you beg for death, when it’s so painful and utterly agonizing?

Pepper, Pepper, Pepper. Where are you? Where’s everybody?

I’m going to survive this.

I’m going to survive this and return to you, even if you don’t love me anymore.

He scream and a drop of tear slides down his cheek.

James Bucky Barnes. Seventy years at Hydra. He cannot even begin to fathom the agony that man has gone through. Have I done something wrong? Have I made the wrong choices? Is it all my mistakes?

His thoughts have no head nor tail. They madly bounce around like scraps of nonsense. They are scraps of nonsense.

He cannot remember when the pain has started. He does not realize it when the pain comes to an abrupt stop. Tony doesn’t feel it when they drag him up from the bed. He’s too numb, and the serum is still burning within his veins. He’s halfway unconscious, and his head bobs up and down. A doctor rushes in and takes his pulse.

“He’s alright,” the doctor calls out. “The serum worked. I can see no injuries anymore. The experiment is a success.”

"Then hurry. Take him to the Chair. If he regains consciousness right now and decides to attack us, it won’t be pretty. We need to wipe him right now,” the man says.

The Chair isn’t very far away. They drag him there and chain him to it. You need to resist this, a small voice whispers in his head. As they put heavy restraints on his hands and feet, as they clasp a strange thing around his head, Tony Stark groans groggily and manages to lift his head.

There’s a large mirror before him.

He can’t see any noticeable change. He isn’t muscular or bulky like those other super soldiers. No. Wait. His face- his face was different. His face was that of the man who had just begun his Iron Man career. He can’t be older than, like, thirty-five or something, he observes. He blinks, his thoughts hazy and sluggish.

At that very moment, his head clears. And everything comes crashing down.

What?

Only then does he realize what’s happening. His eyes widen in horror.

What were they doing to him? What—!

At that very moment, the electricity sparks, and his vision blurs in a blinding flash. Everything is burning white. They’re frying my brain! He opens his mouth and screams silently, madly. Fear of what was going to happen exceeds the pain he’s feeling.

He’s going to lose everything.

Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, Thor, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Jarvis, Steve…… Steve Rogers. I’m going to forget you. I won’t be able to recognize you, dammit! What should I do? What should I do?!

Nothing.

It was beyond his power to resist. One by one, the memories got dragged up to the surface, burning bright before it scatters into the void. Into nothingness.

......Pepper’s laughing. He’s fighting alongside his team in his suit. Thor encourages them with a booming laughter. They fly. Oh, how happy it makes him. He has a family that he has never had.

It’s fading.

The movie night in the Avengers Tower. Steve, gaping at the screen as they watch Star Wars. ……Professor Banner, I’m a huge fan of how you go all green rage monster…… Natasha sings. Clint laughs, a lighthearted chuckle that puts everyone at ease.

It’s fading.

And the coldness, the Siberia, the betrayal, the pain, the torture—

Everything fades, and. And.

And then...... nothing.

He opens his eyes and shivers. He feels cold. He lifts his head and stares into the mirror before him.

He doesn’t know that face.

"Ready to comply.”

“Assemble it.”

They give him circuit boards, engines, guns, missiles. He’s the Nameless. He doesn’t speak up. He doesn’t ask questions. He know how to assemble it before he’s taught how to.

They warn him that he will be punished if he makes a single mistake. But he never makes mistakes. This is as easy as breathing to him.

So they leave him to his work.

"Ready to comply.”

He says automatically. The man— the man using the name ‘Baron’ nods in compliment. He hands him a round, blue object. It’s dysfunctional, broken. The nameless one traces his thumb along the jagged edge. He observes.

“You need to fix this. It’s called the arc reactor.”

Baron is observing him carefully as he says this, and he doesn’t know why.

“Its core is powered by artificially synthesized Vibranium or Palladium. Can you fix this?”

“Analysis: broken case and disconnected wires. Given Vibranium, this can be fixed in three days. Ready to comply.”

He replies. But even as he says those words, a strange feeling tickles him at the back of his head. Something is wrong. So very wrong. He puts down the arc reactor. Gazes at its bluish core.

And then it comes back. Unexpectedly.

‘Proof that Tony Stark Has a Heart’

“……Pepper?” he whispers before realizing. His eyes widen. It’s suddenly so hard to breathe. Panic grips his heart. Why am I here Tony Tony Stark Pepper Iron Man—

He jumps to his feet and shouts. “Pepper!”

Immediately, a sharp needle pricks his neck. He falls. His arms and legs are paralyzed, and he can’t move, no matter how hard he tries. He quickly gulps a lungful of air and manages to look up.

“Pepper Potts,” he blurt out, shuddering horribly. “Jarvis. Rhodey. Bruce. Happy. Tasha. Thor. Clint. S-Steve Rogers……”

Baron turns his back against the fallen man and gives his subordinates a brisk nod.

“The Chair,” he says. “We start again.”

“You need to fix this. It’s called the arc reactor.”

Baron is observing him carefully as he says this, and he doesn’t know why.

“Its core is powered by artificially synthesized Vibranium or Palladium. Can you fix this?”

“Analysis: broken case and disconnected wires. Given Vibranium, this can be fixed in three days. Ready to comply.”

He replies. Nothing is wrong, so he starts working immediately.

He fixes the Arc Reactor in two days.

Sometimes the memories come back. And Tony doesn’t react well.

Tony is terrified and enraged at the same time. He screams and wrenches himself away from people’s grasps. They were making him into an empty shell, making him make goddamn weapons for Hydra. How many would die because of him this time?

He grabs a huge man and tosses him away like he’s nothing. The goon flies and crashes against the wall. The wall crumbles down into dust and rock. The man slides down to the floor and sprawls out, unconscious or dead. Tony doesn’t care. He also doesn’t care about his impossibly changed body strength.

Tony desperately looks around. There! He turns to run away. And then-

Baron speaks.

“Weapon, Desert, Heat."

Tony freezes, jerking his head backward. Baron continues.

"Philanthropy, Zero, Robot, Seven."

"No......" Tony moans. His pupils dilate and his knees buckle. He falls to the ground. Hits the ground. The cold, impassive voice rings in his ears.

“Siberia, Accords, Nineteen."

“No……!”

Baron snaps his notepad shut.

“Cold. Grief."

Silence falls. Tony struggles against an invisible restraint before going still. His brown eyes goes empty. He opens his mouth. His voice is strained, rough.

“……Ready to comply.”

Baron nods. He turns around.

“The Chair. Again.”

They wipe him and fill him up with other things. Ways to kill. Ways to torture. Tony obeys and learns. Sometimes, though, the memories come back. Unexpectedly. Tony screams. He fights. Sometimes he sobs and pleads. Sometimes he threatens them. But nothing works. Baron speaks those damned words and he’s immobilized.

“Give up. They aren’t going to come for you,” Baron says.

“Shut up,” Tony snarls, trying to throw off the restraints. Baron shrugs and turns around.

“Wipe him.”

Electricity flashes white. And everything begins anew. They wipe him, fill him up, give commands. He obeys.

One day, he stops resisting altogether.

“Make weapons using arc reactor as an energy source,” Baron says. The Nameless lifts his head and stares blankly at his master.

“Ready to comply,” he says. Baron smirks, satisfied. The Nameless turns his head back to the work table and focuses on the task at hand. He makes weapons.

He never asks questions.

When he gives them weapons, they give him a name. They say that he passed the test. He is called the Mechanic now. He likes it. He has a name now, a name that belongs to him.

They train him to fight. He is trained to use his hands, knives, guns, grenades, everything. His enhanced body can easily crush steel. When he does well, they give him time to rest.

They don’t let him sleep. Training, making weapons, getting a physical examination. That’s all he does. He is tired, and kills his sparring partner without a moment’s hesitation in order to get a break. Baron gives him a break with a pleased smile.

One day the training session is cancelled. Baron calls him. He goes. His master shows him a list. It has names, ability assessment, and pictures of people. He don’t recognize them. They are strangers.

“Memorize this,” Baron says.

“Who are they?” Tony asks, flipping through the pages. Baron chuckles and puffs out smoke.

Steve Rogers.

Natasha Romanoff.

Clint Barton.

“They are called the Avengers. They are our enemy. Your enemy.”

“Enemy……”

Bruce Banner. Thor. Vision. Wanda Maximoff. Sam Wilson. James Rhodes. Scott Lang. Spider-man.

“They’ve lied to you, and destroyed you. They will never stop hurting you. When you see them, the emotions you should feel are— violent hatred. Fear. Urge to kill.”

Fear. Hatred.

At Baron’s words, the emotions immediately flare up from within him. The faces are burned into his eyes, his brain. They blaze like fire, bright, terrible and hurting. He clenches his teeth in pain.

“Are they my target?” he grinds out.

“Yes. When you run into them, your objective is to fight and eliminate them. Never listen to them. Don’t believe a word. But when you feel like you are going to be captured, run away. Do not get captured at any cost, understand? This is an order.”

Baron says each word very, very slowly, watching him with careful wariness.

“Remember, all right? Fear. Hatred.”

The papers crumple in the Mechanic’s grip. And, as the order commands him to—

He starts fearing them.

Terribly.

“Understood,” he whispers. Unknown emotions rise like bile in his throat and make it tighten. He finds it hard to breathe.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Sam Wilson re-adjusted his goggles as he charged forward. The ceiling was all but ripped out, which made it much easier for him to utilize his wings. He spread them and leapt up, seamlessly landing on a higher ground covered with shattered bricks and dust. He planted a firm kick in the Hydra sniper's chin. Glancing at the enemy toppling backwards, unconscious, he thought to himself that this was a piece of cake. No Hydra facilities were a match for the Avengers united.

That's when it happened.

The lab's door abruptly slammed open and someone rushed out. Sam startled and turned that way, since he had previously thought the room to be vacated. That turned out to be a good choice. The man squatted low and aimed a gun at him. The gun was glowing an eerie blue light. Sam Wilson's eyes widened. He barely had time to throw his body sideways as the repulsor gun burst into a storm of light and fired.

The remnants of the wall was blasted away with a thunderous bang. Sam felt his heart race. The man had aimed for the head; he was accurate and unwavering. A very well-trained soldier, better than any other Hydra agents. Who on earth was this?

The man recharged his weapon, running straight towards him in a manner that was more reckless than courageous. Sam didn't falter as he pulled his trigger. But the opponent avoided the bullet ever so easily before leaping upwards. At that very moment, Sam could see his face. Brown and black eyes met midair. Sam felt his heart drop.

"What? Tony?"

Tony's eyes were blazing with such hatred he had never seen before. He fired again, this time successively. Sam managed to stumble away from the assault, but his wing wasn't so lucky- he could hear one shatter into pieces. Dammit, what was going on?! He gritted his teeth and shouted into the comm link.

"Captain! Cap! Somebody came out and engaged me in a fight, and it's Stark. Tony Stark!"

[....What?]

Cap seemed as aghast as he was at the news. His words were tense and rushed out.

[I'm on my way, Falcon. Hold on!]

"B-but this doesn't make sense, Cap. Why on earth is he in a Hydra-"

Sam's words were cut short as Tony threw a punch at him. Sam reflexively lifted his hand and stopped the blow midair. Tony growled as he glared ferociously at him. Next thing Falcon knew, he was ridiculously outpowered and was thrown backwards.

Bang! His head connected with the wall. Sam Wilson coughed once or twice, feeling dizzy as blood trickled down from his mouth. Dammit! This was impossible. Tony Stark was supposed to be a civilian without his suit. But here he was, beating the crap out of him like... like... like a super soldier.

Like Bucky Barnes.

Plus, his movements were perfect, not a tiny bit overdone. Man-to-man combat wasn't the strongest area for Tony Stark, genius billionare of Stark Industries. And now it was. He wondered to himself what on earth had happened those past few weeks. What scared him the most was that he already knew the answer to that.

"Hey, hey, Stark! Tony! Chill! Can't you recognize me? Remember the Avengers?"

Tony's face crumpled in disdain. He advanced forward, his gun held ready.

"Samuel Thomas Wilson. Also known as Falcon, age 38. Previously affliated to the American Army. Current Avengers. Wing impaired successively," he snarled. "Classified as: Enemy. Elimination in process."

"......Shit." Falcon gritted his teeth. He rolled sideways to avoid the shower of gunshots. "Stark, snap out of it!"

Tony spoke no more. Instead he charged forward at top speed. Sam cursed inwardly and lifted his hands in a boxing posture. Beads of sweat trickled down his chin. With wings gone, he knew that was no match for an unnaturally powerful (and very angry) Tony Stark. And at that very moment-

"Tony!"

Tony faltered and turned around. Falcon lowered his hands, letting out a silent sigh of relief. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were here, running towards them. The duo stopped a few meters away, hesitating at the sight of Tony. Tony looked much... younger, and more gaunt, than they remembered him to be. And there was no recognition in his eyes. Bucky knew those eyes all too well, but he didn't want to believe it.

Silence fell. Tony's shoulders were tense. He discarded his repulsor gun, which took a long time to recharge and wasn't too good in a one-against-many situation. He slowly stepped backwards to stand on a pile of rubbles, his muscles coiled tense to fight or flee at an instant's notice. Having gained the upper ground, he let his shoulders relax a tiny bit... but there was still that terrible coldness engulfing him. He glanced around the three of them. The Falcon, Captain America, and the Winter Soldier.

He finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. Physically enhanced super soldier. Previously Howling Commandos, currently a member of Avengers. James Barnes. Winter Soldier. Also a super soldier. Previously Hydra agent, currently not. Classified as: Enemy."

Having finished his analyzation, he posed for combat, ready to resume the fight. The once-sharp brown eyes were dead. Void of life.

"Enemies are to be eliminated."

"God," Bucky muttered. He felt sick. Steve gulped, looking pale and pained.

"Tony... Tony, please."

"I know no 'Tony'."

Tony ground out with venom in his voice before running straight towards Steve. Steve Rogers reflexively took on a defensive posture and blocked Tony's blow. Falcon saw Steve's eyes widen a tiniest bit. It seemed like he had noticed the change in Tony's strength, too.

And they fought. Each blow was deadly. Each blow hurt. Steve clenched his teeth, blocking every punch with difficulty.

No, this was worse than that horrible fight in Siberia. That Tony was furious, but he was at least human. This Tony was more of a weapon with the sole intent of slaughtering them. Steve begged with a sinking heart.

Chapter Text

"We've got results."

The Avengers were a fidgeting, uneasy mess until they heard Bruce Banner's voice. They whipped around to see him standing in the doorway, looking more tired than everㅡ and that was saying something, considering how he always had dark circles around his eyes. Massaging his temple with a thumb, Bruce briefed them with the lab report.

"They..."

The sheer amount of fury suppressed in his voice was staggering; Natasha held her breath as Bruce struggled to regain control over himself.

"They drugged Tony with a modified super-soldier serum. Though he lacks in training, his resilience and other physical traits nearly match Cap's. And clearly his physical age was meddled with."

That made sense, with him looking more than a decade younger and all that. But Sam Wilson was left with a tugging sensation in the back of his head. Something was clearly wrong.

"Why did they drug Stark, out of all people?"

When they all looked back at him, he shrugged.

"I mean, it's not like they have a whole bunch of serum packs lying around. The thing must have been really important to them. And then they just went and gave it away to someone who would immediately antagonize them the moment his brainwashing snapped."

"Because he needed it."

Vision answered quietly.

"Reflecting on how Hydra's technology has rapidly evolved in the past few months, we can safely assume that the reason they seized Mr. Stark was to make use of his knowledge. However, it was highly unlikely that Mr. Stark would provide his service out of free will. Hence the brainwashing, and since the process could not be withstood by a normal human... everything they did was out of necessity."

"'The process'?"

Wanda murmured in a puzzled tone. Bucky let out a long sigh before leaning on the wall, arms crossed. The conversation was bringing back dark memories.

"They drag you to the Chair. Plug the brain with electrodes, fry them up with high-voltage electricity. Neuron circuits responsible for memory are destroyed completelyㅡ and that makes you clear. For brainwashing."

They were rendered speechless. Aghast. 'Brainwashing' has been outrageous, yes, but a vague idea at most. Until now. Until... Bucky told them, his words raw and crude.

Oh, the lengths people will go to...

"If not for the serum, Tony would have died."

Bruce ended the conversation, his voice curt. The words weighed like lead upon Steve's shoulders; his head drooped in a dejected manner.

Shame. Regret. Unbelievable guilt for his friend. Had he not left Tony behind, exposed and vulnerable for all to see, Hydra wouldn't have gotten hold of him. Steve realized that in the end, it was all his faultㅡ Tony's blood was on his hands.

Because he had abandoned one friend for another.

"Where the hell is the bastard... responsible... for this shit?"

Steve heard Bucky snarl out the words in fury. Perhaps there was no one but James Barnes to truly understand the ordeal Tony Stark has gone through; he had to give God credit for his twisted sense of irony. Natasha impatiently rapped her finger against the table before giving an answer.

"Dead. When I found him, he had already killed himself by downing poisonous pills. That shithead wasn't brave enough to face his defeat, it seems."

"Damn." Sam muttered.

Silence fell. Clint shivered a little; the room felt awfully cold all of a sudden. He hesitated for a split second before speaking up, his voice hoarse.

"Did you call Ms. Potts?"

"I could only tell her the gist of what happened, but... yes, I did. She's heading here with the War Machine."

Again, silence.

They were deep in their thoughts for a full five minutes when the door slid open and Director Phil Coulson stepped in. He was doing an amazing job of staying calm (being a former S.H.I.E.L.D agent and all), but as he cleared his throat it was made clear that he was deeply disturbed.

"Mr. Stark has regained consciousness."

The Avengers startled, spinning around to look at him. Coulson continued.

"Fury is trying out a conversation with him now, and I believe it will be okay to have you guys observing from the outside. Am I safe to assume that you're all coming?"

The Mechanic's eyes fly open.

He looks up at the white ceiling, dazed. The world is spinning. It's hard to keep his eyes open, since everything is downright screaming at him that it's wrong, it's so wrong, all of it. But he can't find out why. He closes his eyes. This is not his roomㅡ This is not the lab, eitherㅡ

So how on earth did he end up here?

Where is this place?

He blinks slowly. The memories float up one by one, piece by piece, feebly reconstructing the turn of events that had led to him losing consciousness.

The Avengers. The battle. The destroyed base, being outnumbered, defeated, running...

...And his breath hitches as he realizes, I've been caught.

His body jerks upright, panic running through him like high voltage electricity, only to be stopped by a loud clang. Pain shoots vibrations up his wrists; he looks down, frantic, only to see that his wrists are handcuffed to bed.

His orders were clear. Do not get caught. And he had failed. He had failed his orders.

Heart flutters in his chest. He starts hyperventilating, but he desperately tries to keep it under control as he looks around himself for somethingㅡ anything.

He needs to escape. Failing his orders were downright unthinkable... not just because of the punishment, it was nothing about the punishment. It was just that following orders had become so natural, like breathing air, that he couldn't possibly imagine not doing that. Orders, commands, they were all that was left of him. The Mechanic, the man without a name.

A droplet of sweat slips down his cheek as he starts to shiver. His mouth is dry as he tries and tugs at the handcuffs; and that's when the door swings open.

He freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

"Are you awake, Stark?"

The voice, it's not Baron, it's not anyone he knows. That terrifies him. And he's off again, pulling at the restraints like he can't hear anything, see anything. The efforts are futile.

"Tony Stark..."

'The voice' seems a bit more worried now, but it doesn't reach him. He is panicking more than ever. Because it isn't his name. He doesn't have a name, they took it away from him, and he doesn't know who the hell is Tony Stark. Yet everyone is calling him that. Even the Avengers.

The memory of confronting the Avengers shoots a lightning of pain down his spine.

He gulps. Now he's angry, he wants to scream, because he doesn't understand a single bit of it.

Why are they so desperate to see him, when they are going to hurt him again? Why do they pretend to know him when they were supposed to be his tormenters?

I can't, I just can't understand, and please, for God's sake, stop calling me that!

"That is... not my name."

He manages to stammer out, and the word of negation is so unfamiliar that it stings at his tongue. He can't gather up the courage to lift his head, to look at his captor, but from the periphery of his eyes he can see the man tilt his head and contemplate him.

"Yes? Then can you tell me your name?"

"I have none."

"Then there is no problem in calling you Tony Stark."

The man grabs a chair and sits down. Tony feels uncomfortable at his carefree attitude, but he doesn't have the courage to say his denial twice. His throat tightens; he unconsciously rubs it with his palm as he slowly, slowly lifts his head.

And looks.

The man isn't one of them, the Avengers, thank God. Instead he looks like some kind of... weird... space pirate, with his leather jacket and an eyepatch. And a strange voice whispers from the back of his head: How does he even see sideways...?

To his surprise, the man shrugs nonchalantly.

"I turn, of course."

Sounds exhausting, Tony thinks. And can the man read minds, too? His lips almost quirk into a smile at the thought. Almost. Then it dissipates into a mere shadow.

The man clasps his hands and leans forward. His eyes bore into Tony's, intense, scrutinizing him like he's searching for something. Tony is reminded of the men in lab coats. After a pause, the man breaks the silence.

"My name is Nick Fury, and we've met. Several times, actually."

He knows me.

And there's the rush of relief, because even though Tony doesn't know him, the man knows him. Fury reeks of authority. He could give him orders. He could fill Tony up on what had happened.

"Where is Baron?"

Tony asks, and flinches in fear as he notices that Nick Fury's lips had tightened into a firm line. He seemed disapproving; when Baron was disapproving, he would immediately send Tony to the Chair.

Fury reads uneasiness on Tony's face, and he quickly reigns back emotions, whatever they were. He gives a curt reply.

"He's dead."

Tony blinks. He continues slowly.

"He killed himself when the base fell. He can't hurt you anymore, boy."

Fury takes his time to let the words sink in, to fully take effect. He stares intently at the brainwashed man. And Tony doesn't show him an emotional response; at most, he seems to be contemplating. Considering.

Then he lifts his head, and asksㅡ "Okay. So what are my orders?"

Nick Fury frowns in confusion.

"What?"

"Baron is my immediate supervisor, so I must follow his orders," Tony explains, his features placid. It is as if everything is so obvious to him. "But when Baron is dead or otherwise unavailable to give orders anymore, the highest authority in proximity gains control over my actions. Therefore, considering the circumstances, I have come to believe that you are my superior."

Tony mechanically cocks his head. This time, it is his eyes that are boring into Fury. He repeats.

"Give orders, sir. I am ready to comply."

Ready to comply.

Bucky bit his lips and looked away. Pain gnawed at his heart as he heard the familiar string of words. They echoed with his memory, too loud to ignore, and too raw to dismiss.

Ready to comply.

"Damn."

He whispers, and Steve silently agrees.

There were neither rewards nor punishments; there were consequences, and consequences only.

Nick Fury considers his options. He really does. He thinks of what he can do, and what will be the consequences of it. In the end, he doesn't like what he needs to do. Because the orders Tony has been burdened with, it can only be lifted by other orders. All of a sudden he feels too tired for this shit. To see a previously brilliant pair of father and son, Howard Stark and Tony Stark, so thoroughly fucked by Hydra... it's a pain, to say the least.

"Fuck," he mutters, rubbing his temples. "And I thought I will never see Tony Stark taking orders from someone else. You'll probably never fucking forgive me for this, are you?"

Tony stays compliant, just watching him silently with empty eyes. And that unnerves him even more. Fucking hell, he curses under his breath one more time before he lifts his head and glares.

"All right, here are my orders."

Tony waits, ever so patient...

...But he soon isn't, not after Fury gives his orders.

"You shall disregard the orders you have been given previously. You shall try your best to regain your lost memories, memories of your life. You shall not antagonize the Avengers."

Fury draws in a deep breath.

"And you shall stay with them from now on."

Tony freezes.

And from the outside, through the window, the Avengers can see; pure pain and panic and fear crashing down on him, breaking his composure and dragging him down. It breaks their hearts. Tony's hand quivers, but he doesn't have the strength to lift them, so he just averts his eyes and gazes down at his laps. He mumbles, his voice shaking.

"But I... I can't, not when the orders go against one another, I just can't."

"You said you'll obey me from now on, didn't you? I said Baron is dead."

"I CAN'T!"

Tony screams, and it's a bloodcurdling scream.

"I can't, sir, please. I know that I am supposed to, but living with them... no. Just no. I will obey, I will do anything, I will do as I am told. But I can't do this."

He makes frantic tugs at his handcuffs again, as if they will somehow magically come off and give him freedom from his misery, but all is in vain. So he rolls up into a ball, broken, rocking back and forth. And he remembers. He remembers Baron whispering things at him, that they abandoned him, condemned him. They had left him in the cold to die. He shouldn't trust them; fear and hatred is all that was allowed to him. And now he is being ordered to do the exact opposite. He feels overwhelmed pain.

Sobbing uncontrollably, he begs again, this time more pitifully.

"Please... please..."

But Fury will not be moved. He shakes his head, his posture tall and his voice firm.

"No."

At that Tony moans, the crushing weight of orders dragging him down to the ground. It is only his handcuffs holding him in place. Arms spread out, his head hangs limp in the air for a few seconds. A mat of brown hair, heaving up and down at each painful breath. Then, finally, the chains of order and compliance click into place. He slowly lifts his head. His expression is pained but his eyes are hollow, broken.

He whispers quietly.

"Ready to comply."

And Nick Fury looks down at him, looking disturbed, but unable to help in any other way.

Chapter Text

"In such a state... you don't understand that there's no need to follow orders anymore. No matter what you hear, it doesn't work. No persuasion possible. To get rid of the brainwashing it is crucial that you spend time with people you are familiar with, but with all that fear coded into you, it's impossible."

"So what should we do?"

At the question, Bucky Barnes gritted his teeth and looked away. Coulson pressed on.

"What can we do to get rid of the brainwashing, Mr. Barnes?"

"Well... I really don't want to say this, but..."

Bucky drew in a deep breath, a grim look on his face.

"...To override the brainwashing, you will have to use the brainwashing."

He was being dragged into the chair, a gag stuffed into his mouth as he writhed in defiance. Baron stared coldly down at him as a man in lab coat placed electrodes on his temples. His body jerked violently as he remembered the pain that would soon strike him.

"Ah, AHHHH!" His screams were muffled by the gag as the man chanted next to him, the Code that was forever engraved into his bones-

Weapon, desert, heat, philanthropist, zero, robots, seven, Siberia, accords, nineteen, cold, grief.

"Stark."

Weapon, desert, heat, philanthropist, zero, robots, seven, Siberia, accords, nineteen, cold, grief.

Weapon-

"Stark!"

Tony jerked awake of his stupor and blinked. He wasn't in the Chair anymore; he found himself sitting face-to-face with Nick Fury instead. When had the handcuff been removed from his wrists? He felt numb as he rubbed them...

"You can go freely," Nick Fury spoke bluntly. "As long as you think you can refrain from attacking anyone. Or having a full-blown panic attack. In that case, we'll bring you in for your own safety again."

Tony blinked before swinging out of the bed. He gingerly let his bare feet rest upon the floor; a SHIELD agent hurriedly brought him a pair of shoes. To his surprise they fit perfectly. Still he shifted in discomfort- because- he didn't want to 'go freely'.

Freedom meant that he had to decide where he wanted to go. No commands, no nothing. From now on he would have to decide for himself. And that was a very, very frightening concept. Terrifying, even.

However Nick Fury wouldn't give him any more instructions. So Tony had to step out of his containment unit.

He took in his surroundings instantly, as he had been trained to do so. It was an automatic process; observing, analyzing, memorizing everything. The corridors were... strange, labyrinth-like almost, and why were the passers-by all staring at him? He was dutifully keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact, as he had been trained to do.

But his efforts on keeping himself unnoticed seemed to be futile; the men of Nick Fury were all looking back at him, their expressions bordering on shock. They looked- aghast, even. Perhaps it was because he was still wearing patient's gowns? Or maybe it was because they knew the man he used to be. His stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought.

He was not that man.

So he started walking without direction or purpose; all that was on his mind was to escape their wide-eyed stares. After a few minutes he found himself in a deserted corridor. It seemed that he was near the engine room of the Helicarrier- There was this constant buzzing that he could feel as he softly traced his fingers across the floor.

There was a staircase at the end of the corridor.

The sound of his footsteps rang unusually loud in his ears as he climbed the stairs. After seventeen steps he discovered that he had come face-to-face with a heavy metal door. He let his palm rest upon the door and-

Pushed.

Applying only a fraction of his strength was enough to make the door swing open with ease, revealing the deck of the Helicarrier. His ears were numb, perhaps because of the mind-blowing altitude of the ship, but he stepped onto the deck anyway. He left the door open behind him.

It was a wonderful sight. As he stood near the edge of the deck, a cold gust of wind swept past his hair. White clouds tumbled by like a raging sea, tossing and turning at every moment. Tony was mesmerized, fascinated, as he watched their turmoil.

And then a voice called him.

"Tony."

It was a voice he had heard before. Natasha Romanov. His mind instantly supplied him with words like The Black Widow, Assassin, Spy, the Avengers, danger danger danger. He stood perfectly still as she approached him with quiet steps.

"Hey."

She was just a few steps away from him when she stopped. Tony could feel her gaze on his back- his instincts screaming at him to shoulder up and defend himself- but honestly, he couldn't even breathe.

Weapon, desert, heat, philanthropist, zero, robots, seven, Siberia, accords, nineteen, cold, grief.

His brain was overwhelmed, engulfed by a sudden sense of vertigo; firecrackers exploded; his heart was becoming tighter, tighter, and tighter until it felt like he was going to burst. Was he here? Baron? Was he here to punish himself for the disobedience?

I must follow orders.

Weapon, desert, heat, philanthropist, zero, robots, seven, Siberia, accords, nineteen, cold, grief.

I must.

I-

Tony gritted his teeth, his vision turning white at the edges. The Orders thundered in his ears. They lied to you, they hurt you, they will not hesitate to hurt you again. Do not believe them. Do not believe their lies. Fear, hatred, no matter how gentle they look, they have abandoned you, and you must fight to save yourself, fight with the sole intent of exterminating them...

He swung around, his body crouched low to attack. Natasha instinctively stepped back and raised her hands in a calming motion. As if she had absolutely no intention of attacking.

They both knew that once the combat began, she was more than capable of defending herself against him.

"Tony Stark, calm down. It's just me and no-one else. Do you know who I am?" Natasha asked with an even tone she had used to calm the Hulk. If it had an effect on Tony, it never showed. He replied in a curt, mechanical voice.

"Natasha Romanov. You're the Black Widow."

"Yes, I am. And I have no intention of hurting you."

"I don't believe-"

Tony stopped in the middle of a sentence, snapping his mouth shut. Confusion slowly percolated onto his face as his brown eyes roamed the deck. Nick Fury's orders rang clear in his mind:

Do not attack the Avengers. Instead, try to ignore the commands you have received till now.

Fight with the sole intent of exterminating them.

Baron is dead. You are under my orders now.

When you meet, you must fight to save yourself.

Do not attack-

"No!"

Tony clawed at his hair as he collapsed onto the deck, the discordant Orders giving him an impossible amount of headache. His temples throbbed unbearably; he could do nothing, sitting helplessly as he heard Natasha approaching him in a hesitant manner.

Now she's going to attack me, a dull thought rose to the surface of his mind.

To his surprise she crouched down next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Are you okay? He heard her ask, worry evident in the way she pronounced the words. The Widow's palm was smooth, warm, nothing like Baron had said...

But...

Tony's eyes dilated for a fleeting moment. With the effects of brainwashing momentarily weakened by the conflicting Orders, fragments of unfamiliar memory flashed by. His head snapped up as he gasped for air.

"Oh..."

"Tony?" Her eyes glimmered with hope. "Do you recognize me?"

Struggling to catch his breath, Tony shook his head. The headache was gradually subsiding; his hands shook nonetheless. He felt completely drained. He shifted his weight to lean against the handrail. And the wind ruffled at his hair, calming him down a little.

He looked into Natasha's eyes. His brown eyes were slightly glazed over, but alive.

"I don't know, I can't. There's too many variables, too little data, and I have no authority to judge whether Baron was right. The Orders, they are in charge of me, and with them constantly in collision with each other..." His face contorted in agony as he pulled at his hair. "Who am I? What kind of people are the Avengers? Can I believe them? What had happened to me? I can't reach a conclusion because I don't know!"

Tony looked up at her, his eyes wild.

"And... even though a memory had just come back to me... I have no way of knowing if it's true."

"Tell me," she encouraged softly. He clenched his teeth and averted his eyes.

"...You would lie to me."

"I won't."

"Swear to me that you'll tell the truth."

"I swear. On my life."

There was a pause. Tony stared at Natasha, still not believing her, but the tension in his muscles slowly melted away. His lips fluttered in hesitation.

"...We were watching a movie together. 'We' as in 'the Avengers'."

Natasha's eyes went wide. Tony sighed, still avoiding eye contact. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on his shaking hands.

"I had a pizza box in my hand. As I entered the room, you were all sitting there, watching TV. A movie was being played. Captain America- Rogers- he was totally absorbed in it."

"It was 'Star Wars'," Natasha nodded, smiling. "You aren't wrong, Tony. Your memories are coming back to you."

"So we were..." His voice sounded uncertain. Flat. "Friends."

"Of course. Even now, the Avengers are your friend."

"Baron said you were my enemies."

And once again the stubborn doubts were in Tony's eyes, as he intently searched her face for any sign of lying. Natasha shook her head, exasperated.

"He is... okay, listen. Hydra, led by Baron, was our enemy. We were friends, but then they got their hands on you and tried to destroy you. Tony, you're smarter than this, so think! Were they nice to you? Did they ever explain why you should do stuff?"

Tony swallowed rather convulsively and shook his head. No, they didn't. But...

At least when he was there, he had a purpose. He was an useful asset. Every single moment was purposeful- reward and punishment driving him forward. No confusion, no doubt, because all he had to do was follow the Orders. The Freedom that had been given to him? He had never agreed to it. Yes, maybe it were less painful, maybe it was 'nice', but it was terrifying. It was being subject to torture all over again; just that he didn't know when the torture would come.

He hated it. Detested every breath he took here. And he was ashamed of himself for thinking that way.

Nick Fury is your new boss, and he wouldn't like it if you spoke it out loud, his brain supplied. So he kept his silence.

After a while, he looked up to face Natasha.

"Why was I there, then?"

"Huh?"

"You said we were friends. A team," Tony whispered. "Forgive my lack of understanding, but the data doesn't... match. How did I get myself kidnapped? How long was I gone? Were you trying to find me?"

All of a sudden, Natasha Romanov was at a loss for words, her throat to tight to answer. Tony went on without an ounce of hesitation.

"I have very little memory left of my past. But the thoughts- the thoughts 'he' had before he sat on the Chair- they remain clear."

He clenched his fists and tried to catch his breath. But the brown pupil, blown to the full extent, was brimming with emotions that he couldn't bring himself to hide.

Distrust.

"'I don't think they would come to my rescue. I just want them to end this. Where are they? It hurts. I don't want to forget. God, please, where are you?'"

His voice broke.

"...Where were you, if you were his friends?"

Tony's breath hitched before he sprang to his feet. He left the deck and went back into the Helicarrier hurriedly, as if he was running away from her, but she didn't follow. Natasha simply remained frozen on her feet.

Because her friend had died, and she hadn't even cared.