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“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties.” Tony drawls as he steps into the chamber, scanning it with a blank expression.
Clint barks out a bitter laugh, “The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not.”
Tony sighs as he takes off his sunglasses. “Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they’d put you in here.”
“Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony.” Clint sneers, finally turning over to meet his eyes.
“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for . . .”
“Criminals? Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for.” Clint stands up and approaches Tony, hands gripping the bars so hard that his knuckles turn ashen. “Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. But here we are.”
“Because you broke the law!” Tony argues, pacing over to Clint’s cell, standing in front of him.
“Yeah.”
Tony takes a deep breath as he reaches into his pocket, before exhaling and taking half a step back. “Okay, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'. We got about a few minutes before they realize it's not their equipment.” He calls, bowing his head a little.
“Look—and this one goes out to all four of you—I get it. The Accords aren’t perfect, but we need these limitations.”
“I thought we already had this conversation back at the compound.” Sam raises an eyebrow.
“Will you just let me finish?” Tony groans, snapping his head back to shoot a quick glare at him. “The Accords are something that we need—”
“Signing them now isn’t gonna get us out of here.” Clint hisses and squeezes the bars even tighter. Tony is almost worried about his circulation.
“I know! And you guys need to listen to me!” Tony fumes. “I’m just trying to piece this shitshow of a team called the Avengers back together.”
“Yeah? Well it sure looks like the opposite.” Clint retorts sarcastically.
“Oh to hell with it Birdbrain. I know just what it's like to have the government up your ass and I know just how annoying it is. But newsflash; this time it actually concerns the people! What’s the point in saving the world if we’re also destroying it in the process?”
Tony huffs, trying to ignore the sudden chill that wracks his body and the phantom emptiness in his sternum.
“How’s Rhodes?” Sam asks softly, slicing through the dense atmosphere.
“Fine.” Tony grits back, sending a small, crooked smile his way.
He turns back towards the others. “Who’s the one that practically grew up being on the news?” He narrows his eyes as he brings out his hand and swings it around the room before coming to a stop, pointing at himself. “Oh wow look, it’s me!”
“Who’s also the one responsible for creating Ultron?” Wanda snarls.
“Remind me, who was also the one that helped Ultron?” Tony quips back.
Silence fills the room.
“Okay fine yeah, you got me there. But you guys do also realize that the Accords are the only way we win back the public?” Tony swallows the thick lump in his throat titled ‘I’m-guilty-and-not-sure-what-to-do-if-the-public-continues-to-hate-us’.
“I’m giving you all an option. You guys can either sit here and wait until the Accords are rewritten in our favour. Or you can also wait until Cap comes to the rescue and you four can all become criminals on the run with him. When you do, you guys can be called the uh… Revengers! Hey that’s a pretty sick name you guys should definitely—”
“And your point is?” Wanda scowls, looking a tad bit more scarlet than before. Well hey, good to know at least someone’s got spirit.
Tony heaves out a tired sigh, “I just wanna know if you guys are willing to still be in the picture or not. . .” He licks his lips, debating on his next words. “Let’s say the Accords do get rewritten would we…” The man trails off, subtly gesturing with his hands instead.
“Look, even if the Accords do get rewritten, we aren’t coming back. Do you really expect the federal government to be able to manage us? Hell no!” Sam exclaims raising his hands up in faux defeat.
“Tony, Tony, Tony… You don’t understand. Signing the Accords probably would’ve been the equivalent of being here anyways,” Clint begins, letting go of the bars and slumping down against the nearest wall instead.
“I’m not following.” Tony frowns, and Clint sighs loudly.
“Tony, you’re not just a man in a suit.” He sits up. “Iron Man; take it off, you’re Tony Stark; genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” Clint stands up again, but doesn’t approach the bars, simply facing Tony.
“But us? We’re not like you Tony. We can’t just ‘take off the suit’ and be a regular person like you. Signing ourselves into the Accords is practically the equivalent of signing away our identities. Well, minus you, obviously.”
The room goes quiet, and drops a few degrees. Everyone’s eyes are on Tony, and he can even feel the ones glowering at him through the ‘A’-less AVs. He digs his nails into his palm as hard as he can for a few seconds, before letting go.
“Okay, well—if that’s the problem—as in, the government doesn’t understand us; why don’t we just get one of the Avengers to rewrite the Accords? Like Cap?” Scott asks, tapping on the bars rhythmically.
“Oh I wish.” Tony groans, “Cap is down bad and gone with his beautiful boyfriend somewhere into the unknown,” he gestures to Sam, “ and he’s probably not coming back. . . Well, he probably will to save you guys but…” He trails off, losing his train of thought.
Tony pauses, “And lets just say me and Nat had a uh—falling out of sorts.” He does his best to ignore the eyebrow raise from Clint.
“So yeah, everyone else is kind of out of the picture.” Tony finishes, flashing a thin smile and shrugging. He decides to look down at his wristwatch to shake off the weight of everyone’s gazes and winces as he notices the time.
“Alright, time’s ticking… We got about thirty seconds—”
“Why don’t you rewrite the Accords then?” Sam blurts, and the room descends into stillness once again.
“...What? Why’s everyone looking at me like that? It’s a valid question.”
Wanda scoffs and turns away; Clint huffs out a forced laugh; Scott looks downright offended.
“It’s not that simple—” Tony begins, before being interrupted.
“He’s a Stark! Why the hell would you trust him?” Scott cries, and Clint makes a grunt in response – although, it’s hard to tell if it’s in agreement or not, but Tony assumes the latter.
Wanda taps her head against the wall, letting it rest as she resumes observing him unblinkingly.
Unsettling, but okay.
Sam shrugs, “Well he said it himself, he knows the press, the public, the news, and possibly even the government better than us. So why not? Plus, I know he’s definitely spent enough time with the Avengers to know what we like or don’t.”
Tony turns back to Sam incredulously. “Did you just defend me?”
“Oh don’t make me regret saying that.”
“Uh-uh,” Tony tuts, “No take-backs.”
“Okay then, let’s say Tony does rewrite the Accords and it's not hot shit, how do we know the governments are even going to accept that?” Clint quizzed, folding his arms over one another.
“He’s a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Surely he can pull a few favours.”
Tony stills. “Maybe it is that simple.”
Sam grins as Tony slowly rotates around the room, giving them tiny nods of acknowledgement as he heads for the door. The man is a foot out before he leans back, eyeing the others. “Hang tight— Wait no, sit tight. Be on your best behavior until daddy comes back, okay?” He coos saccharinely which is no doubt Tony-speak for “please-don’t-do-some-dumb-shit-and-escape-with-Steve”.
Tony winks, wiggling his fingers in farewell before disappearing out the door which slams shut, leaving the four to their own devices.
The four of them slowly back away from the bars at their own speeds, returning to their usual spots. Clint on the cot, Wanda on the floor, Scott around the wall, and Sam in the middle of his cell.
They share a gaze, filled with a new spark of determination, with a small touch of hope and anticipation.
Clint brings his hands up behind his head and mutters, “Guess we better keep ourselves busy, hm?”