steadfast_tin_soldiers

“A genetically enhanced alien raccoon-- Sure, why not. To go with Biomechanical Smurf Barbie and the talking tree, right?” Tony’s only half listening at this point, brain cataloging what Steve had said and then dismissing it out of hand. “I usually work alone but it’s probably a good idea to tap into anyone that understands quantum physics here. And since Banner’s chilling in Vienna, I’ll take a rodent and Avatar robot.”

Tony has absolutely no concept of caring if Steve can follow his weird references or not. He needs the sounding board. With FRIDAY busy using her feelers to tap into networks it’s probably illegal for Tony to have access to, satellites, and a scarily accurate facial recognition software Tony had written to relive the past when he was feeling sad about not having his mom around, Tony doesn’t want to disturb her. She’s got enough work to do trying to figure out which important world leaders are still functioning.

And if Pepper and Happy managed to survive the Great Dust Storm.

Title is a work in progress.

Anyway, Steve will do if his Wild Man appearance translates into a looser moral code than a strict pointing towards Truth North. Tony is pretty sure that they’re going to be doing some pretty terrible things over the next few days or weeks. He and Steve have a past and they rarely see eye to eye, but they both want to bring back the people that they’ve lost and selling one’s soul to the devil to achieve that is a nominal price.

“You’re not going to like the way I say anything from here on out,” Tony confirms, leveling Steve in a Wild Man gaze of his own, the kind of gaze that often frightened Pepper and would scare Banner too if he saw it again. Tony Stark On A Mission is dangerous and potentially unstoppable. “I hope your incredible shrinking and growing guy is alive. We need to steal his suit.”

"Yeah, well, if that group was the strangest thing I'd seen today, I'd fall on my knees and thank whatever cosmic powers exist," Steve half-growls, not at Tony. They're probably of a similar opinion on that matter, even if they have rarely, if ever, been on the same page with respect to anything else.

"I can radio back to Wakanda. Just give me an idea who you want here, and what you need from them," he says. He's pretty sure Rocket will find a way to get here himself, given the motivation. He seems easily that driven, and like Tony, he's lost a strange kind of adopted child.

Steve regards Tony with a dull, wary eye. The last time he saw Tony Stark On A Mission, that mission was to kill Bucky. There's a weird kind of symmetry to see him wild to bring back the dead now. Steve isn't sure he likes it. Actually, he's sure he doesn't, and his moral compass has not shifted an inch as of yet, but it's always been a shade more complex than most people, Stark included, are inclined to believe.

"You want him, too, or just the suit?" He asks evenly. "Because I'm pretty sure it was confiscated and locked up when he did his plea deal. Unless you have some kind of intel I don't, I would guess it's locked up in a high-security military base."

"In which case, yeah, I can get it for you." Wouldn't be the first time he's stolen high-profile equipment from a military base. He has also, technically, robbed the Smithsonian. Thus far, he's not seeing any challenge to his moral code here.

Color Tony surprised. “Ross said you raided the place. Serves me right for believing him.” At least this makes their job a little easier. Tony won’t have to worry about the suit getting dusted right along with Lang. It’s safe, it’s secure. And it’s in an abandoned super powered prison that had been defunded the moment Steve Rogers, fugitive at law, broke out some of America’s ‘most dangerous people.’

Tony isn’t making judgements here on the purpose of the Raft. He’d helped to design portions of the technology used there, after all, and SHIELD had a few very dangerous and very unsavory people holed up there. That had included one of their own for a time. Wanda is— Wanda had been one of the most dangerous people Tony had ever encountered.

He lifts his eyes towards Steve again, that dark and wild force only intensifying. “Lang’s the accessory. I don’t have time to rifle through my dad’s stuff on Pym particles and it’s nothing I bothered to dabble in.” Because of course complex physics like those described in Hank Pym’s life work would be a mere dabbling for Tony Stark. “Let me get some things and we’ll go. And then I want to meet your new pet.”

Rocket and Tony have a little too much in common.

They’re not going to get along at all.

"I went in, took what I wanted, and left the rest behind." Which is to say, he took his people. What the hell was Steve going to do with the Ant-Man costume, anyway? He didn't want to screw up Lang's plea deal, or Barton's for that matter. They have kids, and he grew up without a dad at home, himself. (That's an old-fashioned way to look at things, maybe; some of Steve's anachronisms will stick with him until he's six feet under for good.)

Funny thing that the Raft has come up in conversation, because Steve has a few questions for Tony. It was up and ready so quickly, it had to have been there before the Accords were finished being drafted. It's logical; when you have superpowered aliens and dangerous AIs and enhanced humans running amok, someone--probably a lot of someones--will start working out ways to neutralize them. You have to. SHIELD did. Steve thought he might have recognized Tony's hand in some of the Raft technology, though, and that makes him wonder how much the man knew, and when he knew it.

Tony's motives, 99 times out of 100, are pretty pure, in Steve's eyes, except during the rare semi-psychotic emotional breakdown where he tries to murder Steve's best friend. They don't see ethics the same way, they don't see the world the same way, but in the end they generally both want to keep innocent people from getting hurt. So, to say he distrusts Tony after seeing the Raft setup would be an exaggeration. But he would love to know what was really going through the man's head, whether he was playing some kind of long con against Ross or whether he was truly just doing penance for the lives they all failed to save. The question will have to wait, as will any discussion about Wanda (who was, dear God yes, quite possibly the most powerful and dangerous individual on the planet until Thanos dropped in, and that's exactly why Steve wanted to help her), and Steve can only hope they both live to have it out.

"'We', huh?" Steve has to assume that means Tony doesn't trust him to go alone. Whatever. He doesn't exactly have a plane readily available anyway. "Is your new blue pal coming, too? You should probably try to be polite to the raccoon, by the way. I am dead positive he will bite you if he has a mind to."

Yeah, they're going to hate each other. It'll be fascinating.

“Yeah. ‘We.’ Do you have a problem with that?” Tony needs to be hands on with this. And he needs to see what else Ross might have left behind in the Raft. SHIELD’s rise and fall in prominence, the Accords, and the rapid increase of super powered crime since the Chitauri’s initial invasion has left so much political turmoil that Tony’s ability to slap Band-Aids on the problem areas has more or less run it’s course. The guy has a lot on his plate, more than Steve will ever understand the reason for.

Atonement is just a small portion of it, but it’s one portion that will haunt him for the rest of his life because he can never fully give back everything that he’s taken.

An eyebrow arched and the jut of his hip leaves Tony looking more like a petulant college co-ed than a man in his late forties. “I know we don’t like each other, Rogers, but I don’t think we need a chaperone for this. And you don’t have to threaten me with rabies.”

It’s easier for Tony to believe that Steve’s break in trust, despite the hand-written letter, despite the offering of the phone, has everything to do with animosity. Why else wouldn’t Steve tell him? Tony had been willing to compromise himself, perhaps to a fault. And maybe Steve never anticipated a reveal of that magnitude to ever hit. Tony himself would never have predicted the way he freaked out.

But it happened. Tony tried to kill Steve’s only link to the past. Their friendship had evidently been one sided anyway, so it probably didn’t matter. Steve had been Tony’s friend.

But Tony had, obviously, only ever been Steve’s colleague. Ally at best.

That hurt’s scabbed over and a new kind of pain has all of his attention now anyway.

“I can go alone if you’re against getting your hands dirty.”

"Like I said, you're running the show right now," he tells him. "Just don't die on me and we're good."

On some level, he's afraid to go to a deserted military base alone with Tony, though. They're both at the edge of their emotional limits, and it's going to dredge up some very unpleasant memories. Is there even a tiny possibility Tony might attack him, he can't help but wonder, and concludes with a little internal shudder that if he does, all Steve can do is take it this time. He's got no one to protect and Tony is the only chance they have out of this.

"For the record," he says, not because he's nervous but because it's true, "I only disliked you for the first twelve hours or so of knowing you." And maybe a little bit before that, by reputation. You messed up his New York skyline with that building of yours, Stark.

"After you almost died saving New York, you kinda won me over." He huffs a sigh. "I guess I have some things to say to you, too, Tony. Let's try to get through this so we both get the chance."

"And don't worry about my hands. They're staying dirty until this is over." He literally has Bucky's dust under his nails, and Sam's, and Wanda's, and probably a few hundred Wakandan soldiers and Dora Milaje with it.

There’s a huge sting in his chest from Steve’s words, and Tony turns away from the darker haired blond before any of that can register on his face. It’s easier to deal with Steve at an arm’s length and Tony intends to keep him at least that far away. He’d be utterly offended if he knew that Steve thought he might attack him (Steve had never been the subject of murderous intent, and Tony had never been prepared to actually kill Rogers to get to his mother’s murderer, or he would have shot him in the face with a palm repulsor when he had been certain that shield was about to disconnect his head from his shoulders). Thankfully, no one here is a mind reader and the two people closest to that title that he had ever met were now dust.

Tony makes no comment about Steve needing to talk to him, he doesn’t re-acknowledge the fact that he too would like to have some words delivered in short, jabbing, angry bursts. Their cards are on the table, played face down, and Tony has no idea if either will be left alive after this idiocy to see who will win the pool.

“FRIDAY, do you have an ETA on that list?” Tony’s hands are on both of his hips now, head bowed slightly as he examines the toe of his sneaker. He needs to change, badly, but there’s no time. He wasted it listening to angry voice mails from Peter’s real parent.

“Negative, Boss. Less than a day, more than half of one,” FRIDAY drolls. “Still no sign of Ms. Potts.”

Tony hadn’t asked her to, specifically, locate Pepper, but he hadn’t had to. Tony flinches and turns back towards Steve to lead the way out of his house. “She’s the only one you interrupt me for,” Tony growls under his breath. “When you find her.”

“Yes, Boss.”

They’ll take a quinjet this time and though Tony loathes to be stuck anywhere with Steve Rogers, they have work to do. Work that doesn’t involve talking and work that really shouldn’t involve either of them moving into one another’s space. The moment the blond does, however, such as when he glances over Tony’s shoulder as they near the Raft, the engineer immediately prickles. His breathing changes, the hair on his neck stands up and his heart thuds in his chest.

It’s nothing he can hide from a supersoldier, as much as it shames him.

They really do need to talk. They may have misinterpreted one another's body language in that last fight, not to mention actual words exchanged. 'Stay down, final warning' sounded like a death threat to Steve, for certain. As for the edge of the Shield aimed at Tony's head...well, he had to get Tony to leave the reactor in his chest unguarded somehow, in order to shut it down. Cracking open his helmet and aiming for his face seemed like the only way at the time.

In all fairness, Steve intended for that potential blow to be misinterpreted as an immediate threat of messy death, so he had this coming. And it would be too much for him to claim he wasn't off the rails by that point. He swears to God he heard Bucky screaming the entire time, but Bucky swore just as seriously he didn't make a sound, he's a trained assassin for fuck's sake, why would his instinct be to yell like a banshee when he's injured?

Screaming, ice, cracked metal, ozone, blood-smell. Falling. All three of them, falling. He's not sure when he hit the ground.

"Jesus Christ," Steve murmurs almost under his breath when FRIDAY mentions Ms. Potts. He hadn't dared to consider--but no news might just mean she got stuck in traffic away from the compound somewhere. He gives a little full-body twitch, as if he wants to run right out and check for her, because the idea of Tony losing literally everyone that matters is more than he wants to consider.

He can't, though. He can't, and FRIDAY is better equipped to search, anyway. Saying something to Tony seems like it might almost be insulting. Cruel. So he follows in silence.

It probably doesn't help Tony's nerves that in the Quinjet Steve can't seem to sit still. He sits for takeoff, fidgets, and rises to pace in a manner that's a bit more frenetic than his normal. And he does catch the shift in breathing and pulse when he looks over Tony's shoulder, glances at him with a soft sigh, and moves back.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Tony’s got no intention of explaining the evolution of his relationship with Pepper Potts, why they had broken up or how they’d gotten back together, or the fact that they are now engaged and had been actively planning a wedding right up until Bruce Banner stepped out of a hole in the air to hug him a little too tightly and give a name to the person Tony’d been dreaming about for years. He’s sure that Steve’s been through a lot too, probably happily galivanting across the globe like an international Robin Hood with his merry band of followers. He hadn’t kept up on Steve’s whereabouts, though he certainly could have, nor did he do much of anything after he’d gotten Steve’s letter and the phone save for putting Ross on hold or being in meetings whenever he came to the compound. His break with Steve had been devastating and, in a way, it had been what brought Tony back to Pepper.

Uncle Obi turned out to be seriously evil. He’d lost Bruce. Rhodey had nearly been killed. Steve had left him with a few broken ribs and a note that just left him more depressed than he had any right to be. And then the kid decided that he didn’t want to be an Avenger after all.

Proposing to Pepper seemed like the best way to keep someone in his life. And it gave him a reason to start a family of his own now, a biological family that might not just disappear into smoke and fire like his nightmares spelled out for him.

Ha. It had worked until Thanos decided to ruin everything.

Everything had been tense, but fine again with Steve until the idiot opened his God damned mouth. “Why would you hurt me? I’m your only hope, Leia,” he mutters, bristling even further. “Just sit down and strap in. The place might not be as empty as I thought. Scans aren’t revealing any heat signatures, but it’s designed to blanket them anyway. You know that already. You’ll have to tell me how you broke in some other time.”

But not this time. Now is not the time for catching up over a beer.

Tony sets the quinjet down without much care for stealth or quiet and heads towards the armor bay. The suits he keeps on hand aren’t as advanced as the nano-tech one Thanos smashed, but this one will do. He’s not about to head into the unknown unarmed.

At least no one tries to contact them or swarm them when they head out onto the landing deck. The smell of the ocean doesn’t hit Tony in his pressurized armor but Steve can smell it, and hear the choppy sea around them too. But that’s about it. It seems that they’re alone.

“Any intel on where confiscated gear is kept these days, Cap?”

Steve sits again for the landing, with bad grace. He's shivering under his skin. Under normal circumstances, he's usually able to take a plane trip over the sea without batting an eye, but right now everything is all wrong, and they're going to have to go beneath the waterline to search the place. In a floating tin can, with a man who neither likes nor trusts him.

If they're lucky, the security systems in this hellhole have gone offline.

He follows Tony out of the Quin, but his steps slow down as the smell and sound of the waves hit him, and when Tony speaks, if he glances back, he'll see Steve looking pale and distant, giving that harsh thousand-yard soldier's stare to something invisible in the foggy waves beyond. He licks his lower lip to respond, tastes seasalt, and answers:

"There'll be bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover, tomorrow, just you wait and see..." He's not a professional singer, but he can carry a tune. "There'll be love and laughter, and peace ever after, tomorrow, when the world is free."

Never has Vera Lynn sounded so funereal.

It’s probably fitting for someone that looks like a choir boy to sound like one too, but singing is the last thing that Tony expects to hear through the filters inside of the helmet. A glance of his eyes is translated by the HUD to dissolve the armor away from his head so that he can look at Steve through something other than a projected screen. He’s about to say something snarky and a little mean spirited, but he doesn’t.

Steve isn’t taunting him or even looking at him.

He’s being a guy who just lost a returned brother-at-arms and a good friend, who has been running on empty, emotionally, and who was raised during a time that doesn’t really equate to anything remotely like now. Tony’s a little surprised that the guy’s managed to get this far without an emotional break this far.

A small turn of the wrist alerts the full armor to split open and Tony heads towards the steel barrier he had been trying to erect between them. “Contrary to the belief of this idiot I know… You can take a few damned minutes to let it all out. Men cry these days, Rogers.” The salty air causes his hair to fluff up.

Steve is aware of the places he's broken, although he's never figured out how to acknowledge or cope with them. Instead he pushes them aside and denies them at every turn, and Sam tried to tell him how unhealthy that was, but there's always been something else to focus on. So, here he is, facing down some old demons in the worst time and place. And there Tony is, displaying the extraordinary capacity he has for kindness, which he hides under his various layers of psychological armor.

Steve knows he's not forgiven. He hasn't even looked for forgiveness, under the assumption it's either a hopeless case or only to be earned inch by bloody inch, with actions and not words. But he tears his eyes from the sea and blinks blankly at Tony for a moment and starts to feel a little bit less cold. There's a ghost of a smile under the beard for a moment; a sad, thin, tattered little ghost.

"Kinda figured if I let myself get started, I'd never stop," he admits, worries his lip and says, "I hate the ocean anymore. And snow, and ice."

He feels a bit woozy, actually, but he imagines that has more to do with circumstances than seasickness. "You asked me about what Wanda pulled out of my head before," he says. "A long time ago. I didn't want to talk about it. I thought it wasn't anything that was news to me, anyway. Just wasn't sure why it hurt so bad at the time."

"It was an empty room, Tony. I was walking through a dance hall, and Peggy was there and she took my hand. There was red on a man's shirt, and I thought it was blood, but it was only wine. She said the war was over, and we could go home. 'Imagine it'." He breathes in raggedly--feels a little like the asthma of his youth.

"And then everyone was gone, and it was so goddamn quiet. The most awful quiet I ever heard. I figured, hey, I knew I couldn't go home again. I knew I wasn't going to really leave the war behind, ever. I'm not the first guy who had that happen to him.
There's a name for that."

"But it hit me just now...This is it, isn't it? This is the empty room. Fights lost, sacrifices made, and in spite of it all there's no one left in the room to fight or sacrifice for. I should have done...something. More. Different. I'm sorry, Tony."

“The Big Bad might have cleared half of the room, Cap, but the last time I looked, the glass was still half full.” He’s mixing metaphors here, but seeing something really get to Steve is like seeing his mother crry. It isn’t familiar, he doesn’t consider the blond a sibling after all, but the way it hits him is still a gut punch. Tony doesn’t like it, not the feeling, not the cause of the feeling, and not that Steve is capable of generating that response out of him in the first place. “I’m also a little pissed off that you think you’re standing in an empty room with me right here in front of you.”

He’s deflecting. Tony is well aware of what Steve is saying, but he’s making light of it anyway. Tony Stark can’t be himself unless he’s painfully subversive at all times. Especially at Steve’s expense.

“If this works and I can do what we all know I’m capable of doing,” hurk, “then I’ll get them back for you.”

As much as he’d like to think that they had time for Steve to ugly cry into his gloves for an hour or so, Tony is as restless as the soldier had been in the quinjet. He doesn’t want to hang around on the landing deck of a crazy floating prison for much longer. And he isn’t planning on sharing what Wanda pulled out of his head, either, even if his big fat mouth opens up as he steps back into his armor.

“Anyway, I win on the shitty visions. Finding yourself in an empty room is a lot better than watching you die.” Steve has a way of pulling things out of him. Like how Tony, always antagonistic and at the other end of the moral rope from Steve, decided to tell the blond in a moment of self-pity that he thought he was his friend. Isn’t that always the way with Tony, though? He latches on, claws into people, and decides for them if they’re friends…or even more. Banner and Potts know that first hand. “And you’re still alive, Rogers, which pretty much goes to show you that what she made us see wasn’t real.”

Edited 2018-05-31 18:49 (UTC)

Steve recognizes the deflection for what it is: merciful. Aside from needing him functional, Tony doesn't have any reason to coddle him, and--well. Normally, Steve wouldn't put up with coddling to begin with. Peggy's attempt after Bucky was lost in the war was the best he'd ever born witness to in his life, but even at that rate it was cold comfort. Wise, yes. Healing? Not so much.

For some reason, Tony's doing at least as good a job, with just a few semi-serious words. I'll get them back for you, he says, and they both know 'them' consists partly of the man Tony was at one point hellbent on killing. If Steve were a different person, if he was angrier and bitter and crueler, he could point that out. Could have sunk his fangs right in after admitting Bucky was dead, and asked Tony are you happy now?

Steve can't make himself be that mean-spirited, though. He has plenty of flaws and that just isn't one of them, and it's good it isn't, because that might have pre-empted Tony offhandedly restoring his faith in their chances of recovering from this just by being excessively glib.

He takes a few ginger steps in Tony's direction, keeping enough of a distance to telegraph that he's not going to reach for him, that he's not a physical threat, but his gaze is clearing, and focused on Tony now, and there's warmth kindling in it. "Guess I figured I'd already lost you in a different way entirely," he says quietly.

"I'm still alive," he nods, admitting to himself it's not for lack of trying. "Me, Tony? You saw me die in your vision?"

Me? He's struck by the implication that that would be so deeply upsetting to the man. He wants to ask whether Tony means he saw Captain America dying, or Steve Rogers, but that's probably too philosophical a question for the moment. "I'll...try not to do that."

There’s no need to elaborate on what he saw. Even the Hulk has died. The Hulk and not Bruce Banner. They had all been dead, but only Steve had laid there as Tony gripped at him, trying to will him to stay with him and accused him of their destruction. It had flavored an already confusing relationship towards the sour end.

And then Ultron happened. The need to regulate people like himself became apparent. Tony needed rules, he still does. He needs laws in place to keep people like him, to keep people affected by the last eight years of mess caused by the Chitauri and their discarded technology, safely pushed away from normal people just trying to live their lives.

The Avengers helped people, but they also caused a colossal amount of damage, destroyed cities and livelihoods and families.

But that’s part of a discussion for another day.

They get below sea level fairly easily, Tony constantly scanning the area ahead and below them as they move for signs of movement. There’s nothing, just darkness illuminated by the reactor in his chest and the headlights in the helmet. Decommissioning this place had always seemed strange to him, but obviously SHIELD had gone ahead and done it. Secretary Ross hadn’t been lying.

At least the sound of the waves doesn’t breach the thick metal hull surrounding them and Steve isn’t taken by the need to sing again. They find the main power grid and Tony once more steps out of his armor, setting it to sentry mode so he can fiddle with the control panel.

“Lights, cameras,” he mutters to himself as the command center comes to life, monitors flickering on and the hiss of electricity surges across the electronics.

He’s not prepared to see the dust in the room. And he’s not prepared to see the people wandering around in forgotten cells.

“Shit. This place was shut down a year ago. Why are there still prisoners here?” It’s a question he doesn’t have an answer to. “I’ll have FRIDAY send some guys to round them up,” he continues, ignoring the fact that abandoning the people here could potentially be a death sentence if they can’t get the government back on line.

It’s not his concern and the people that are here, usually, deserve to be here.

Steve really wants to question further, because as much as he always liked and respected and even cared about Tony (after that first rocky 12 hours), he didn't figure he was his closest friend even among the Avengers. And he figured that was mostly because of Howard; if he'd grown up feeling compared to some dead guy and found wanting all the time, and then said dead guy showed up in his backyard not dead at all, he'd be a little bit cranky about it, too. He figured Tony wasn't his biggest fan, but it was never really personal, and the fact that they worked so well together in spite of it was a testament to the man's hidden grit and the inherent goodness in him that he seems so reluctant to admit to.

If anything, he'd have expected Tony's nightmare vision to be of Rhodey or Banner dying, specifically. Or Pepper, if it was particularly unkind.

One of these days, he's going to pursue this line of questioning. Why him? Why me? But that day is not today, and Tony's lack of response reinforces that conclusion. They can have a heart to heart after they save the world (isn't that always the way? and then the heart to heart keeps getting put off for later).

Steve is on high alert as he follows, and he seems to have taken his duty as rear guard very seriously. The arm-shields that T'Challa commissioned for him are quietly opened, but he relies on Tony for light. That, and his own enhanced senses. It strikes him that it's far, far too quiet in here, but he has nothing more concrete than that mild misgiving to voice until the lights come on.

Then, he begins swearing under his breath, just barely audible but unusually vehement, and including a few words Tony has most certainly never heard him use before--and not because they're in the Xhosa dialect he's been learning on his visits to Wakanda.

Tony may have Rogers pegged as a bleeding heart, and he kind of is, but he's also very keenly aware of the protocols of military prisons, high tech or otherwise. And he's broken into this one before. "We need to get out of this room right now," he says in his battlefield voice, the one that brooks no argument, as he lunges to guard the door they came through. "Put the suit back on, move!"

Clearly, the place is not as decommissioned as Stark was led to believe. And an operational prison's emergency systems do not include the whole power grid going down in a disaster. There should at least be emergency lighting and air circulation, and if half the guards in the place are dust, the other half should have been active enough to come ask what the fuck they thought they were doing landing an unauthorized aircraft on a restricted-access base.

Something's bad wrong here, and Steve's first assumption is a prisoner breakout. The Avengers weren't the only people locked up in here, and while they may not have been the only relatively innocent ones shoved away without due process, there are almost certainly some dangerous individuals in this facility.

All it takes is Steve’s tone for Tony to realize that he’s overlooked something very, very important here. It’s not the prisoners in their cells that are the focus, it’s the obvious lack of non-dusted personnel here. The moment Tony had seen the dust, he should have run the math in his head. It would not be impossible for all of the former workers to have been part of the random and arbitrary culling, but it’s still highly unlikely. It’s also not impossible for the Raft to function with a dead man’s switch either, but there had been no evidence of shut down… And no evidence of backup security.

With all of the power out, in fact, there is no security. Though he hears Steve’s words, his eyes drill into the screens, looking for inconsistencies. He finds one immediately. There’s no sign of someone roaming the hall, but there’s also obvious distress in the people in their cells. And there’s one very, very bizarre scene in what looks to be a cafeteria. There’s a lot of debris there. No, not debris. Bodies. Bodies torn limb from limb.

It takes Tony’s face more time than his brain to figure out that they had just strolled into a situation heading towards the upper reaches of FUBAR. Tony turns to do as he’s told, rushing through the door just before the Iron Man armor goes into defensive mode. It’s not so much the sound of repulsors and heat-missiles engaging whatever else had moved into the hallway outside of the control room that worries Tony, though.

It’s the roar of the giant, Hulk-like creature that sustains the damage the armor throws at it.

It's both better and worse than Steve's immediate fear. He doesn't have Stark's intellect, but he thinks in strategy and his brain has already made several skips and jumps forward. If he were a prisoner here and suddenly handed the opportunity to break out of a cell and overwhelm his guards, he would do exactly this: he would sit quiet, do whatever it might take to keep from alerting anyone in the outside that something was wrong, until the right moment. He would wait for a relief shift or commanding officer to arrive via air--because of course this thing has life rafts, but the chances of getting far from here fast in a life raft are nil. He would corner them, and take their plane, and get the hell out.

So, as he rushes to guard the door, his primary concern is that they must not get trapped in the control room. He misses what Tony spies on camera, and that says a lot about the two of them, about what each one prioritizes and how their M.O.s compliment one another. Tony hangs back to gather more intel. Steve reacts at breakneck speed, and he's usually able to survive and sustain his own recklessness.

He could have seriously gotten into trouble without the suit standing guard, though, this time. He was expecting an organized rebellion with a stealthy mastermind, not a raging monster.

(Maybe he's not giving the raging monster sufficient credit, though. It was clearly quiet enough to stalk them, even with the tremendous size and bulk. He's going to have nightmares. Like, extra ones. If he ever sleeps again.)

"Holy CHRIST, is that Blonsky?!" He's scrambling, off guard and horrified, but already making a point of putting himself between Tony and the creature. "He's supposed to be in Alaska, in cryo!"

Well, it kind of makes sense. If the Raft is a higher security prison and can normally sustain power for a cryo chamber, SHIELD might have moved the man there. Might have been fine if the power hadn't gone down (but then, who shut the power grid off?). The other possibility, of course, is that this is a completely unknown quantity of monstrous strength and psychosis, which might be even worse.

All Steve knows is that whoever or whatever it is, Tony is frighteningly vulnerable to it without his armor on, and whatever else happens here he has to live and get back safely.

Sometimes, Tony forgets that Steve had been in a lot of the loop when it came to SHIELD. Tony’s information usually came through low level technological espionage, but he also consulted a great deal with governmental agencies and SHIELD and the Department of Defense had always been good clients. Technically, SHIELD woke up Steve and Steve worked for them even through the HYDRA incident, so why wouldn’t he be briefed on where Blonsky was?

“Yeah,” Tony pants, scrambling back, grasping Steve’s forearm as he does so, briefly. “Yeah, I designed his cell myself,” Tony complains. “If they’re just stockpiling king crab, I’m going to be pissed off.”

Why the hell is a decidedly evil version of Bruce Banner allowed to just hang out at the Raft? Ross has a lot of explaining to do. Uh. If Ross is around to do any explaining at all.

The exoskeleton more or less just absorbed the repulsor blasts, and Tony grabbed at his phone to direct the armor to shoot around and not at Blonsky. They needed cover, something to run through and distract the Abomination without being caught up in either.

“I miss your old shield,” he grunts at Steve as the hallway fills with dust from drywall and chunks of ceiling. “Go!”

Oh, Steve always has had a keen interest in anyone dosed with a version of the serum he'd been given by Erskine. He has yet to find anyone who came through it completely unscathed. Bucky's knockoff Hydra version hasn't destroyed him, arguably (the brainwashing did that), but he's the exception that proves the rule. For every gain in strength, stamina, or intellect, there seems to be a terrifying drawback. Erskine may have meant well, may have been as pure of heart as he hoped Steve would be, but he sure as hell opened a Pandora's Box. The arms race shouldn't be fought at all, but particularly with human bodies as the raw material.

But also, Steve had an added advantage within the loop, so to speak. He was the guy a lot of SHIELD agents grew up wanting to be. He figured out quickly he could ask a question and get at least a partial, off-the-record answer even if he didn't technically have clearance. Because Captain America would never do anything wrong or careless with intel.

God, he wishes he were as good a man as people seem to think he is.

Case in point. He should have been working with Tony all this time, somehow. He thought he was giving him space, letting him reach back out to Steve when he was ready. Of course, he also thought he should wait for the right moment to tell Tony about Hydra's role in his parents' death, and that turned out effing terrible. And instead of giving him space, he's clearly left Tony in the lurch, because this is not something that would have slipped past him if he'd had backup and time to keep an eye on what Ross was doing behind the scenes. Tony always knows what Tony wants or needs to know at a given moment.

This is Steve's fault.

"I miss the Hulk," he fires back at Tony, although, yeah, it would be nice to have something to throw (but also let's be real, next to Abomination, Hulk looks like a big cuddly green teddy bear). He hates to run from a fight, but this is one they don't have time for, even if he thought they could win, and he's not sure they can.
If you're going to run, though, best to do it as quickly as possible. He'll have to apologize later for getting handsy without permission, but Tony's getting picked up and carried through the cover fire at top speed.

“Cap!” The word is actually less of a sound and more of a yelp, but if Steve ever asks, Tony is going to say that the other man misheard him use his shortened title and nothing more. Rubble behind him did not make him feel better and while Tony is all for high speed amusement rides, being thrown, fireman style, across the ample shoulders of one Steve Rogers makes him feel more like an injured Jeff Goldblum at a dinosaur theme park than Iron Man right now.

Must Go Faster even pops into his head, but he doesn’t say it, grasping at Steve’s waist instead as he listens to the roar of that great, red beast turn it’s full attention towards his poor armor.

He really liked that one too. Damn it.

“Where are you going?!” Tony finally hisses, words that actually mean something and form the basis of conversation rather than a pop culture reference or a whimper. “We need that suit!”

Or the mission is done. Peter and Bucky stay dead.

Tony’s not willing for that to happen.

“And don’t touch my butt!”

Tony can no doubt sprawl alluringly with his shirt hanging open, as well. And talk about chaos theory, if the occasion calls for it. Actually there are a lot of parallels there; it's sort of alarming.

"Gotta go down a floor," he grits out in response to the question. Tony, you should know better than to think he's giving up on a mission just because there's a horrific genetically-altered being in the way. Most of his life since the serum has consisted of horrific genetically altered beings of one kind or another. And aliens. And robots. And Tony Starks.

"Storage was on the bottom level before. Can't be sure it's still in the same place, but it's the safest bet. If I get you to a security station, you can seal off this hall, right?" Because if not, they're probably fucked. The armor can't hold Abomination back forever.

Actually, even sealing off the hall is unlikely to hold him back forever, and it risks trapping them, but Steve doesn't like their other options.

He's not going to dignify the butt comment with a response, but on some level it makes him just a little bit happy. Just like old times, at least for a split second.

He seems to know where he's going, darting into a hall, kicking open a door and hastening down a narrow maintenance passage, which ends in a flight of metal stairs. Not until they're at the bottom of these does he set Tony down, alert and tense, listening for sounds of pursuit. "The Quinjet. You update the security systems all the time, right? If Blonsky's not the only one that's loose--and I'm not sure how he could be--someone's going to want to be on the next flight out of here."

Normally in horror movies, the pretty girl about to get slashed runs up the stairs like a moron, trapping herself away from the path needed to get to safety and invariably putting the deranged murderer between that path and herself. They might be going in the opposite direction right now, but they’re doing the same damned thing. He blames that on Steve’s inherent prettiness, despite the lumberjack-hobo offspring he’s currently pretending he is. Of course, even his beard is soft and luxurious, and Tony knows this because he can feel it from time to time on the stretch of skin between the riding up/falling towards his armpits shirt he’s wearing and the edge of his jeans. It’s disconcerting and jealous inducing, but Tony’s mind snaps back to the task at hand.

Suit. Quantum manipulation device. Survive to alter it.

As they hurry down that narrow corridor, Tony shields his head with his hands. The ceilings are low and up on Steve”/ shoulder, he’s pretty high. Of course, his head isn’t the highest portion of his body now and his lower back does just clear the overhead piping, but humans often react protectively of their most important parts and despite what magazine journalists often claim, he is indeed human.

By the time Steve sets him down, only a few moments have fully passed. Steve moves fast and Tony needs a few moments to really get his bearings again.

“The quintet is on lockdown the moment I leave it. The ones we use all require vocal authorization. Too many teenagers taking joy rides.” So it’s safe, short of being shoved into the ocean or pulled apart. That’s not all too comforting really.

Tony brushes himself off and stalks into the darkness. He’d managed to get a few systems working in the control room but emergency lights aren’t known for their brightness and he has to squint. There are storage lockers all along the walls here, most with keypad or scanning locks. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem but they’re on borrowed time with a barely stoppable creature upstairs.

Let's be real, pretty or not, Steve is more the Final Girl type. As long as Tony stays close to him, they ought to get out just fine.

In any case, failure is not an option.

Steve is too focused on the danger behind them to observe (enjoy?) the bare skin brushing his cheek, but he does have an eidetic memory. He'll probably be able to recall the moment later. He does, at least, try not to grab Tony's butt, as requested.
He's out of breath when they stop, and that's unusual for him. The stress may be taking a toll; he's only running on adrenaline and determination, too, and he should probably try to eat when they get out of this. "I want pictures of teenagers taking joyrides in the quin," he huffs. "But that's good. Hard to tell what we're really up against in here."

Just Abomination is plenty to be up against.

Steve makes an effort to move quietly as he follows Tony, but right about here is where his usefulness as a guide begins to wane. "I know they use serial numbers and file under a terminal-digit system," he says. "But without knowing the number they've assigned, we may have to just break down the doors and hope for the best. Unless you've got a better idea."

Tony usually does have a better idea.

Though Tony might have other ideas, they’re not always better. He might think otherwise, however. Tony’s thoughts for this one, especially because he knows he hasn’t completely reconnected power, is more physical than mental. He’s not going to hack the system locks, but bypass them. And that requires a little help.

Taking a multitool from his pocket (because he isn’t some amateur), Tony marks an X a few feet above where the locker units start by etching the metal. “Punch here.”

He’ll do the manual overrides by hand once he can get them on the wires, and that shouldn’t take too much time at all. At least his shoes are rubberized. Again, this isn’t his first rodeo and he’s pretty much the sort of person who manages to invoke Murphy’s Law at each and every opportunity.

He doesn’t have any of his scanners with him, but he’s pretty confident in his eyeballing ability. And indeed, once Steve exposes the wiring for him, it takes very little time for all of the doors to pop open on each side of the hall. Tony doesn’t need praise, but he smirks knowingly anyway.

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it's the infinity feels war

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((i can edit if you don't want Tony picked up and carried, just let me know))

No way! This brings me such joy.

XD Awesome.

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