Chapter Text
A few years preparation really wasn't enough time, even for a wealthy genius, to save the Earth by himself. He'd learned from his mistakes. He couldn't single-handedly be responsible for everything, but he could use his fame and fortune to jump-start unifying the world. There were those who claimed the threat was a fraud, and that the Chitauri were a fluke, and what happened in London was mass hallucination, but there were movements in the stars, movements that were verified by every major observatory. Not-stars that were coming closer all the time. More and more people turned to their leaders and asked what was being done.
No single global protection system could cover all the possibilities. There were three sub-orbital early detection satellites manned by people from all over the Earth, mutants, enhanced, and 'norms', anyone with skill sets to fit the needs. And on Earth itself, information was widespread by every available method and in every known language to every group that could be reached. Be ready. If you can't fight, learn the plans for your area and be ready to take shelter.
Dr. Strange had recruited beings who weren't even human, but whose dimensions relied on Earth's existence to continue. The anti-human mutants led by Magneto had agreed to work together with Professor X's much less radical group.
The U.N. offered its assembly hall as a neutral meeting place for enhanced 'supers', so they could be organized efficiently with assigned areas to protect. When possible, a team would be given an area they were familiar with, but the natural distribution of 'supers' was uneven, with some countries oversupplied, while other parts of the world had no native heroes.
"Mr. Stark," one of the workers at the English (US) table said, "your team has been assigned to the protection of New York City. This shows the extent of your responsibility." She printed out a map section, and handed it to Tony, along with a flash drive. "Further details are on the drive. If any changes need to be made, please use the contact information included." She smiled, but looked tired. There were a lot of heroes milling about, looking for the right table, and the constant babbling of different languages made it difficult to concentrate on a conversation.
"Thank you, I'm sure it will be fine." Tony tipped his fedora to her. It was an elegant gray number, matching his suit. After all, he was at the U.N., he could be classy, Pepper, yes he could. "Ok, guys," Tony turned to his team, "lunch is on me." They were all in civvies, too. People had begun swarming costumed heroes with questions and looking for reassurance, and it was easier just to be 'plain folks'. Well, as plain as they could be, which was difficult for some of his team : Vision, Matt Murdock, Luke Cage, Rhodey, Peter Parker and Pepper (she'd taken to the Rescue suit with her usual elegant competency.) Good people, tough as nails, and smart survivors, every one.
"Stark!"
Tony turned quickly at the sound of a once familiar voice. He lifted his sunglasses to verify the sight and then let them drop. Wonderful, Steve Rogers, dressed entirely in black, and trailed by his Scavengers: Barnes, Barton, Maximoff, Wilson and Lang. Tony couldn't decide whether Rogers was becoming a ninja or was in mourning. Whatever. "Rogers," Tony replied. He was calm, and cool, and collected. His team was gathered around him, silently supportive. Well, almost silently. Cage cracked his knuckles. Murdock made a showy twirl of his billy club. Tony loved them, so, so much.
"We need to talk," Rogers said. "In private."
Tony grinned. "One on one? Mano a mano? Or you know, mano-mano a mano? Nope, been there, done that. You want to talk, do it in front of my team. Out in the open. Secrets are bad, right? Well, my secrets are bad."
Rogers sighed as if Tony just made him so tired. "We've been assigned to Wakanda."
"Uh huh." Tony knew, of course he did. T'Challa was the leader of that team, and Tony wished him luck, he really, really did. He was going to need it. Talk about herding cats. "Where's his Royal Pantherness?"
"He had some business of his own. I don't need him for this."
"Need him for what? Cut to the chase. We have lunch reservations."
Rogers' chin raised and his back stiffened even more, which Tony wouldn't have thought possible. He reached back and produced a SHIELD. Tony froze, but around him he heard the reassuring clicks of armor calling bracelets. He drew a deep breath and put on a smile. The shield was all black, and not, not, not aimed at him. Rogers eye-rolled and huffed, as if everyone was so over-reacting. "T'Challa's engineers made this shield. It's one hundred percent vibranium."
"Wow, nice," Tony said. "T'Challa's very generous. Dad couldn't afford pure vibranium, he had to get creative with steel and other stuff. You traded up, good for you! Congratulations." Tony shifted, hoping that was it, just a moment of brag and 'see, I didn't need you'.
"It's great as a shield," Rogers said, "but it won't come back to me when I throw it." He sounded annoyed. "That's a big part of my battle skill. I need my old shield back. I'll give you this one in return. Like you said, it's worth more."
"No. And on second thought, still no."
Rogers frowned. "Are you sure you won't change your mind?"
Maximoff smiled. Her hands glowed red.
Tony stared at her. "No, and you can't make me." He lifted his hat to her. Underneath he was wearing a silver, tight fitting cap. "Magneto gave me the idea."
Rogers said, "Wanda wasn't going to do anything! She's just upset, it's been hard on us being in exile, especially for her, she's only a kid."
"Uh huh, sure. My heart bleeds for you. No, wait, that was past tense."
"Look, I know you're still mad at me, but be an adult about this. The world needs us to do our best, and I need my shield for that."
"Nope, no can do, even if I wanted. It's gone."
"GONE?" Rogers turned a lovely shade of red. Got his Irish up.
Tony smiled again. "Yep. Gone. Vamoosed. Melted. Upcycled. Waste not, want not."
"I can't believe you're so petty!"
"The world needs Iron Man more than Captain Wakanda." Tony saw it in Rogers' eyes again, that total loss of control. He probably couldn't have got out of the way in time, even if he tried. But he didn't try. Supersoldier fist, meet vibranium chest. Tony wasn't even pushed back.
Steve yelped in shock and shook his hand. "FUCK! I broke my hand!"
Tony shook his head. "Language, Rogers, there's a KID here."
"Hey," Peter protested.
"Not you, Pete." Tony put his arm around Peter's shoulders. "You're my man." He smiled at Rogers. "See, you broke it," he said, tapping his chest, "and I fixed it. That's what I do. If something's worth saving, I fix it."
Tony started walking with his team around him. He didn't look back. It was so nice to have people you could trust to watch your back. So damn nice.