Having Everything yet Nothing, 6/8
Having Everything yet Nothing
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Kitty was curled up in a corner in one of the many couches situated in what she referred to as the “Room for Team Meetings That Do Not Involve Things Trying to Kill Us No. 2 out of 5”. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and resisted the urge to pout at her laptop. The new voice recognition system she was trying to build for the X-Jet was so stubborn. Kitty looked up from the screen when she heard quick footsteps heading in her direction.
It was Rogue. She flung the door open, white-streaked hair dangling around her face. “The others are back,” she happily announced. “I just saw the X-Jet touch down.”
Kitty straightened her back. “Is Logan - ?”
“Logan is fine,” Jean told her telepathetically. “Grouchy as usual, but uninjured, unless you count his ego. As far as we can tell, they didn’t do anything more drastic then sedate him and take some blood.”
Kitty nodded slowly, even though she knew Jean couldn’t see it. Logan would be sulking for the next couple of days and thoroughly denying it, but he would be all right. That was good. “Anything happen?” asked Kitty.
“We’ll see.” Jean sounded…hesitant. Kitty frowned at Rogue, who just shrugged. They were probably equally in the dark about whatever had occurred on the rescue mission.
“I tried to find Kurt, but he kind of disappeared,” Rogue added. “No telling where he is now at this point.”
Kitty giggled a bit at that. It was a bit of an understatement.
Bobby chose that moment to walk through the door, hair disheveled but looking otherwise unharmed. Jean, Scott, Logan, Ororo, and the Prof were just behind him. None of them looked any worse for wear. A lot of the tension in Kitty’s shoulders unknotted at that. “Welcome back, soldiers!” Kitty laughed, performing a mock salute.
Logan gave a small snicker and sank down into the closest armchair. “Damn drugs. What’d they stick me with, enough for a fuckin’ elephant herd?” he griped.
“Probably,” Prof answered, looking vaguely amused.
“So, we ran into the Avengers,” grinned Bobby.
“Seriously?” Rogue squeaked. “What were they doing, dealing with Richardson?”
“They kidnapped the Hulk,” Scot answered. “Who knows why he thought that would bring about anything but trouble.”
Richardson had kidnapped the Hulk? On what universe was that a good idea, and how had it even happened in the first place, anyway? Then again, they had managed to get their hands on Logan…
“It was strange. I couldn’t get a read on Iron Man - couldn’t even sense him,” frowned Jean.
Okay, so that was weird too. “You mean Tony Stark? Do you think he has a scrambler like Magneto’s built into his helmet or something?” Kitty suggested.
“No, normally I can still sense a presence with that kind of technology. I couldn’t feel him at all, it was like nobody was there. That’s only happened a couple of times before when Charles or Emma Frost were completely shielding themselves,” Jean explained.
Ororo glanced at Jean for a moment before turning to Prof and asking, “Charles, you seemed to have met him before. Do you know what that was?”
Prof closed his eyes for a moment, a habit Kitty noticed when he was concentrating on something that he couldn’t see. “I mentioned once, when I was just starting the X-Men, a powerful empathy that I hoped would join us. Later, I told you that he said no. I didn’t mention that he has helped provide a lot of the gear and tech we use. Nor did I say that he was Tony Stark.”
The room practically exploded with noise.
“What -?”
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me - !”
“Tony Stark is a mutant?”
“- something earlier, Hank would have been ecstatic -“
“And here I thought you were going to break it to them gently,” a dry, sarcastic voice called out over the din of the X-Men.
Kitty looked over and saw Tony Stark, Iron Man, self-declared genius, billionaire, playboy, Avenger, philanthropist, leaning casually against the wall in a suit, tie missing and top button of his pressed white shirt unbuttoned. His hands were gloved in some strange black material that looked like it had metal woven into it. For a forty-year-old, he didn’t look too shabby. The goatee could use some work, though. It looked kind of strange. And creepy.
“Tony stark, creator of everything from miniature arc reactors to bionic prosthetics to the handful of operation AIs in the world, was a mutant. And he was standing in the doorway. Holy shit.
Kitty had a new suspicion about where Prof’s fancy wheelchairs came from.
Mr. Stark stepped forward, ignoring the disbelieving/shocked/wary stares of the other X-Men. He handed Prof a featureless black leather portfolio, and said seriously, “We need to talk. Alone.”
Logan jumped up and stepped in front of Prof, “Sorry Bub, you can’t just walk in here and tell us to jump and expect we well. Anythin’ you have to say to the Professor, you can say infronta the rest of us.”
Mr. Stark stared neutrally at Logan. “I highly doubt you’d shut up long enough for me to say what has to be said, and I really do hate interruptions.”
Okay, so the tabloids hadn’t been necessarily lying - he was an asshole, at least some of the time. The sarcasm in that sentence was so blatant it could almost be cut with a knife. Kitty could practically feel Logan’s metaphorical hackles rising.
“Just a rich boy whose money bought him some fancy armor. You think you’re better than us, ignoring your genetics, denying them? Newsflash: you ain’t. You’re just a coward behind a tin mask and a bunch of lies,” Logan snarled. He poked Mr. Stark in the chest with a single, large finger. “Just ‘cause you’re some sorta manipulator don’t mean jack shit to me. So you can just tell us straight why the hell you’re here, ‘cause I an’t listenin’ to someone like you giving me orders.”
Mr. Stark didn’t even blink at Logan’s tirade, and Kitty had to give him some credit for that. Something hardened in his jaw as he reached up with a single hand and shoved Logan’s away from his shirt. “Hands off, I hate dry-cleaning. And trust me, this shirt costs way more then you could afford to replace.” Mr. Stark’s tone was light and falsely friendly as his grip on Logan’s hand tightened momentarily before letting go.
Kitty hadn’t even noticed him taking one of his gloves off.
Logan let out a low growl charged with some sort of unfamiliar emotion that Kitty couldn’t place and backed away hastily.
“Empathy isn’t like telepathy. It’s not a foreign force controlling your thoughts, something you can recognize, something you can fight against. It’s just your own emotions rebelling on you. It’s fighting against your own instincts,” Mr. Stark said quietly, staring Logan down. It was - intimidating. There was no other way to put it.
Kitty watched Logan’s expression carefully. There was the same wild look behind his eyes as when he fell into that berserker state of his, but the set of his mouth and the tight lines between his eyebrows were different and strange-looking on his face. Kitty tired to figure it out, and then - oh. Oh. Wow.
Logan - Logan, of all people! - was scared of Tony Stark. Terrified, even. Kitty looked sideways at Mr. Stark with newfound respect. If he could scare Logan, probably the most fearless person ever to grace the face of the planet (and with good reason) with a single touch, then his mutation definitely wasn’t anything to sneeze at.
“So, we need to talk,” Tony repeated. This time, nobody interrupted him.
Prof nodded. “This way,” and led him out of the room, presumably towards one of the other rooms.
Something twisted in her gut, nervously worrying over why someone like Tony Stark would need to speak to Prof at a time like this.
Kitty ignored it and asked brightly, “So! Who’s up for Monopoly?”
Nat waited for Tony to walk over to the bar from the elevator before she made her presence known. He almost jumped when she said, “What spurred the visit to the X-Men?”
“Can’t I just visit an old friend?” Tony remarked automatically. They both knew that wasn’t the real reason he went to the Westchester Mansion.
Nat just leaned one hip on the counter, raised an eyebrow, and waited. Tony sighed and poured himself and glass of whiskey. He suspected he’d need it for the following conversation. “Have you heard anything about the SHRA?”
Nat frowned and picked up a glass of vodka that had been sitting on the marble for longer than Tony had been in the building. “Fury mentioned it a couple of times, but he said something else would take care of it.”
“Yeah, well - the SHRA was bad, but it’s nothing compared to Project Wide Awake. The SHCA, it’s a hell of a lot closer to the ideal. People like us and the X-Men need to be responsible for our actions. There needs to be training. There needs to be a central leadership for the superhuman community. Letting people with powers like ours run about with no direction is just asking for chaos. We’re lucky nothing too big has happened yet.”
“So the SHCA is the UN’s response to the recent proliferation of metahumans.”
Tony nodded.
“A metahuman SHIELD?”
“SHOC - SuperHuman Organization Core. Pretty much.”
“Some established superhumans - and teams - won’t like that.”
“Nat, if everyone was a morally sound and rational human being like Cap, we wouldn’t need something like this. But we’re not. It’s because he’s so determined to see the good in everyone that he’ll fight this the hardest out of the Avengers, even harder then Bruce. But this is something that needs to happen. If we carry on like this, normal humans will eventually stop trusting us after the novelty wears off. We need to show them that we follow the same rules they do, that we’re worthy of their trust…or it’ll turn into a witch hunt.” Tony really didn’t want to think about why he had immediately brought Cap into the conversation.
Nat nodded slowly. “How long until it’s pushed through?”
“It already has been. Fury’s just waiting to talk to the Avengers about it officially. I get to smooth things over with the Fantastic Four. I’ve told the X-Men about it.”
Nat was silent for a moment, staring Tony down like prey as she often did when she was trying to figure something out. “Fury wants you to be the director, doesn’t he?”
Tony snorted. “He hasn’t said as much, but I got the impression I might be on his list. I can’t imagine why. He’d be better off going with Cap.”
“You’d do what needs to be done, no matter the cost. Cap couldn’t do that.”
He knew intimately what she meant by that, and the consequences of it. “Yeah, well. Maybe that’s a good thing. We’re superheroes, not assassins. SHIELD can deal with that shit. Besides, it’s not exactly common knowledge that I’m a mutant, and without that I’m just a normal rich businessman with a fancy metal suit.”
“And that’s why Fury’s considering you for the position. You’re the only one that straddles both worlds. As far as most of us are concerned, you’re the only person that’s totally human, but you’re not exactly powerless, either. Civilians would feel better if someone they can relate to is in charge, and you could provide that.”
“Going by that argument, Cap would still be a better option. I do some stupid shit, Nat, and you’ve seen some of it. Putting me in charge of something that big and important is just asking for trouble. I have zero qualifications for it, anyway.” Not to mention the fact that he’d hate the job so much he’d take every route possible to get out of it. “I’d be bad at it and I don’t want it,” Tony concluded.
“Like it or not, you are a good option. You have a life in both the metahuman and civilian worlds, you get along with the mutant community, you’d sell your soul to the devil if you thought something good would come of it,” Nat shrugged.
“I won’t do it. I’ll tell him no and that I think Cap would do a much better job as long as there’s someone there to remind him that you can’t always do things the ethical way. He’s a natural leader and far less likely to piss off people we need to ally with - accidentally or on purpose. Why are you fighting this so hard, anyway? I’m not even qualified for a position like this.”
Nat looked him straight in the eye and said honestly, “Because I’d rather have someone in charge who’d sell their soul to do the right thing then someone who’d refuse to do that and keep fighting a useless battle.”
Tony sighed. “Just get Fury to appoint you as second-in-command or something. I can’t afford the pay cut anyway.”
They both laughed a bit as their conversation moved on to less serious subjects.
The next day, Tony called up Reed Richards and told him about the SHCA.
“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t expecting something like this to happen eventually. We just want to keep our home safe. If you think this will help do that, the Fantastic Four will have your back.”
This so far unanimous show of support was putting Tony off-balance. He wasn’t used to people trusting him without…outside influence. People trusted Iron Man more then they trusted the Merchant of Death. It was stupid - they were the same faulty, immoral person. But no one else seemed capable of seeing that.
Tony checked the knot on his tie, making sure it was tight and neat. Next up on the agenda for the SHCA and SHOC - the Avengers.
Bruce was going to be pissed. Cap was going to try and take his head off.
Fun.
That turned to almost be an understatement. Tony was glad Thor was currently on Asgard - he wouldn’t have enjoyed the idea either. Thor wouldn’t like it when he came back to Earth, either, but he was less likely to be vocal and violent about it if the rest of them weren’t still arguing over it.
“Absolutely not!” Bruce snarled.
Tony flinched when Bruce slammed his fist down onto the glass conference table. He trusted Bruce not to lose control, but the anger-fear-disappointment-denial-hate the doctor was projecting was smotheringly potent.
Cap wasn’t far behind, stubbornness-anger-refusal rising to the surface of his emotional fingerprint. “There has to be a better option than this. Requiring superheroes to forfeit their identity and give up their autonomy is like serving them up on a silver platter to the next technologically advanced criminal!”
“Captain, once someone enters this lifestyle they give up the option of safety,” Fury argued calmly.
“This way, there can also be a support system for people who choose to use their abilities to fight back. Take Spiderman, for example, our local street-level hero; do you think he’s ever gotten counseling for watching people die in front of him?” Tony pointed out, doing his best to keep the atmosphere calm and rational.
“They should have the choice! Do you really think most people start using their powers because they want to? Hell, most of us didn’t get to choose this. God knows I didn’t,” objected Bruce.
Tony viciously stomped down the urge to shrink back into his seat and avoid the overwhelmingly volatile emotions swirling through the room. “Bruce -“ he began.
Cap spoke over him, “Bruce is right. When does this stop? What’s next, special tattoos based on what type of powers someone has? Special residential areas for superhumans?”
“SHOC will be headed and composed completely of metahumans. Anything after the creation and charter of the Core will be decided by the superhuman community,” Nat broke in. “This isn’t the Holocaust, Captain. We won’t let it turn into something like that.”
Cap seemed to calm at least a little bit at Nat’s placating tone, and opened his mouth to say something else. Fury cut in before he could. “You might not like it, but it’s already decided. The best you can do right now is shut the hell up, sit the fuck down, and figure out how to keep things from getting out of control from within. The WSC is fully capable of hunting down everyone in this room like a damn dog if we decide to disagree, and trust me, Captain, you won’t like that.”
Tony could practically feel Cap’s teeth grinding together, but he did as Fury had suggested (hah, more like ordered) and didn’t say anything else. Cap was furious, but he probably knew this was one fight he couldn’t win.
“The WSC wants one of you crazy little freaks of nature to be the Director, since you’re already allied with SHIELD and by extension, the UN. You’ll be in charge of whatever happens within SHOC, so stop bitching because this could be a hell of a lot worse than it is. Stark, what’ve you got from the X-Men and Fantastic Four?” Fury finished.
Tony straightened up in his chair and announced, “The X-Men want to retain their more secretive habits, but most of their identities aren’t a secret anyway, so Charles said that they’d probably cooperate. I talked to Reed earlier, and he said the Fantastic Four wouldn’t have a problem with it as long as they maintained some of their autonomy.”
“And how much of that is based on whether or not you become Director?”
Fury was serious and slightly amused (probably by his predictions of the other Avengers’ reactions, the bastard). Tony glared at him. He did not want the position, damnit, and he wasn’t qualified for it as far as the rest of the world knew. Only Nat and Fury knew of his status as a mutant and former SHIELD operative - oh fuck. No. Fury didn’t have any of Tony’s files left in the SHIELD mainframe, he had checked. Fury was not going to out Tony to the rest of his team. “None of it. The X-Men want a mutant in charge, and the Fantastic Four want someone with at least a passing knowledge of military structure.”
Understanding welled up in Nat instantly. Fury was his usual self, a smug asshole. Everyone else was at least a little confused and surprised, probably because Fury had basically just implied that Tony was the first choice for the founding Director of SHOC.
Fury moved in for the kill. He leaned forward slightly and said, “Then you meet all the requirements, don’t you?”
Nat almost jumped up. “Director -“ she protested.
“What the hell are you talking about, Sir?” frowned Barton.
Goddamnit. He should have known Fury would end up pulling something like this. He should have fucking known. Fury produced a thick manila folder and opened it. Paper. Of-fucking-course. He recognized the first page - the unique DNA sequence that gave Tony his abilities and some of Howard’s musings on it.
Tony shoved his chair back and flet from the room as fast as he could without running.
Tony managed to avoid the other Avengers and the facts that the X-Men refused to cooperate with the SHCA unless Tony or Charles was in charge of SHOC and Reed had sever difficulties communicating with anyone other than Tony or the other members of his team (talking in math generally put people off unless you’d known them for a while or you understood what they were saying) for about five days before someone convinced JARVIS to override the lockdown. It wasn’t Nat - she had been sent away on a week-long mission for SHIELD almost immediately after what Tony had decided to call The Meeting, and wouldn’t be back for at least another day. The emotional fingerprint was still familiar. Tony sighed and put a quick screenlock on the holograph of the arc reactor powering the Avengers Tower he was working with. “My time is expensive, make it snappy,” Tony bitched before turning around to confirm who had entered his domain. It was Cap, as Tony had guessed, looking sheepish.
“I just thought we should talk,” said Cap after a moment he had used to ground himself. Tony couldn’t discern his intentions, so he did what he always did - he lashed out.
“About what? Worried I’ve been manipulating you? Pissed I had secrets? Disappointed your dear old pal Howard turned out to be a dick? You’re going to have to be more specific, Cap,” Tony spat out. He was in no mood to deal with the general disappointment that permeated the air whenever Cap so much as spoke to him.
Cap sucked in a heavy breath and smothered the quick flare of anger that appeared with Tony’s words. “No, but I think maybe we need to have a discussion about why you think I would want to say things like that,” he said.
Tony crossed his arms and scowled at Cap. “Why are you here then, if you’re not going to go all ‘I’m the goddamn Captain America’ righteous bullshit?”
“First, to talk about how your new position will affect us on the field,” sighed Cap. He ignored the last part of Tony’s question. “Until now I’ve been leading the team in that area, and I need to know if this is going to change that.”
Tony let out a highly undignified snort before he deemed it appropriate to answer. “I rebel because I can, Cap, not because I want to have the responsibility of leadership. I made Pepper my CEO for a reason. The only reason I didn’t tell Fury to fuck off and make you Director is that Charles told me the X-Men would only agree to have a mutant in that position.”
Cap nodded slowly, slightly amused and trying to fight it, and Tony tried to ignore the traces of relief there. Hesitance welled up in Cap again, and Tony thought for a moment that he might have actually been shuffling his feet. “I also want to apologize.”
Tony stared. Cap wasn’t lying; the earnest, honestly regretful feelings Tony could pick up from him made that much instantly clear. “What the hell are you talking about? You haven’t done anything,” Tony said roughly.
And there it was, that familiar drop of disappointment, and Tony didn’t even know what he’d done to deserve it this time. He settled for glaring holes in Cap’s shirt.
Cap let out a quiet, sad sigh. “For that. Whenever I look at you, the first thing I see is how almost everyone you’ve known has failed you. I mean, I read your file, I know about Stane and Tiberius Stone and Howard, Fury told us a little about what he did yesterday. I - I hate the hand you’ve been dealt. You deserve more.”
Tony stared blankly at Cap, and let his mouth run before he could really think that through. “I count cards. And most people would disagree with you.”
Cap smiled a little at that, at least. “Well, they’re wrong. And I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t tell us you were a mutant and we got off on the wrong foot. Truce?”
Tony couldn’t help but grin a little at that. “Sure thing, Cap.”
“I think it’s high time you got around to calling me Steve, Tony.”
Something warm and happy curled in Tony’s gut, hopefully to stay. He didn’t examine it too closely. “Steve, then.”
Steve’s answering grin made the stress of the last week totally worth it.
Peter had just finished shoving his math binder back into his backpack so the zipper wouldn’t come undone when the substitute, Ms. Randolf, called, “Mr. Parker, would you please stay behind? There’s something we need to discuss.”
Peter groaned inwardly. The last time a teacher had asked him to stay behind, they’d accused him of cheating because of one too many 100% test scores. It wasn’t his fault the tests were made for morons!
When the last student filed out of the room, Ms. Randolf beckoned him over with an elegant flick of her fingers. Peter walked over to her position by the whiteboard reluctantly. Ms. Randolf pulled something out of her wallet - two ID cards. Peter glanced at them; they looked like some sort of government-issued ID, but they weren’t from any organization or division he recognized. She smiled at him, purposefully disarming. Peter tensed. His spider-sense wasn’t going off, but much, much better to be safe than sorry.
“My name is Natasha Romanov. I work for the U.N.-sponsored Shield - Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, Logistics Division. I’m here on behalf of Shock, the Superhuman Organization Core, to talk to you about Spiderman."