Eyes burning with fury, the leader of the Avengers could do nothing as he helplessly watched from his seat on the communal couch, the flat screen almost mocking him at his endeavours of silence. All Steve wanted that morning was a quick check of the weather before his usual early stroll.

A few robberies, a crash on the freeway or two. The worst cases of a probably shooting here or there. As much as it pained him, that was the usual thing he'd see on the news. He was a hero through and through, yet crime always slipped through his fingers. There was only one Captain America, and ultimately only one team of Avengers. He could never save everyone, much less catch ever little crime there is or ever was.

But on the TV? No, that was different.

He had every ounce of responsibility of what was happening on that screen as much as the next person. Yet, there he was. Camping out in one of SHIELD's New York City bases, getting ready for a morning run.

Not gearing up, not training.

"Sighting of New York's latest villain! Given the name 'Iron Man' for the suit's male stature and use of alloy, the villain has been spotted earlier this morning at around 4:30am. Witnesses state that Iron Man was seen burning down-"

The anger was obvious. Remains of the remote were scattered across the floor, plastic and rubber skidding to all corners of the living room.

"He got you worked up too, huh?"

Seated at the far end of the room, hidden well behind the counter was Bucky.

A glass in hand, the man sniffed as he pointed at the flat screen.

"He's ben getting desperate - more daring."

Steve looked over to his long-time friend, then back to the TV. It kept Iron Man's latest attack on loop as the live reporter continued to survey the damage.

"Remember what he wanted?" Bucky scoffed, "The damn tesseract of all things. Get in line bud, because every single supervillain on Earth wants that thing."

A wave of discomfort rushed down Steve's face.

"I'll give you that," he rolls down his sleeves as he reaches for a stool, "but unlike the other bad guys we've encountered, Nat and Bruce are fairly confident that this guy has no issues with money."

"Really?"

"SHIELD keeps tabs on every possible villain from the start. For the past three months, the man has never even touched a bank or holds any signs of stolen equipment on his person despite the obvious upgrades."

Lowering the glass from his lips, Bucky thinks to ponder on what was said.

Ever since their first encounter with Iron Man three months ago, the Avengers have gone head-to-head with him numerous times. Some by coincidence, others by intention. Of all those circumstances, they have all been in correlation to the location of the tesseract. They would catch him at old SHIELD bases, HYDRA camps, and simply anywhere that could leave a hint to any desperate baddies on the location of the Avengers' most guarded artifact. That was all Iron Man did.

Well, as of last month.

Lately, the team had noticed the villain's janky routine starting to break. From SHIELD bases, to select SHIELD divisions. From that, to their staff. Anybody of importance to SHIELD was an automatic target for Iron Man's desperation. Then, when that stopped working, it all went to shit from there.

There were hardly anymore villains in New York. Both the city, and the state. Iron Man had taken out most of the competition. Some were stripped of their traits; what powered their strength and super-villainy. Others, were put six-feet under the ground.

Steve shuddered at the memory of Doc Ock.

He was high enough to be planted on the Avenger's radar, but none of them really put the effort into putting him away. He remembered Bruce trying a hand at it, but after getting manhandled by the doctor's tendrils at a point, the man gave the job over to Steve. He was going to get to it, but Iron Man beat him to it.

Two weeks ago, the doctor was found tied up to metal barred fence with his own arms as his restraint. The claws were ripped from their arms and violently used as spikes to be driven through Otto's shoulders. The use of the man's own metal appendages was likely not enough to be used as restraints, so the claws were an added measure.

Upon further inspection, the microchip imbedded in the man's head was utterly fried, as well as removed. Signs of forceful injections were also found all throughout his neck. When the Avengers arrived, the villain Doctor Octopus was dead. All that remained was a sobbing, injured Otto Octavius.

The only evidence found at the scene as to who had done it was a single mark that was burned into Otto's flesh right beneath his shoulder blade. A wobbly finger drawing of Iron Man's helmet, as if it were a kid who drew it. Right along the side of it, read, "Your Welcome. -Iron Man"

"He's a dangerous guy," Steve said aloud to the air, "but there's always some motive with these type of people. The more powerful they are, usually the more complex the backstory."

Bucky took into account their first meeting. The man was confident, but it was clear that the tesseract was his one and only goal. While it still was, Iron Man's plan of obtaining it only grew worse by the second.

The man was well off nor did he seem to be in any financial troubles, so using the tesseract as a sort of bargaining chip was out of the question. While he pulled jokes and sarcastic remarks at those he hunted, he held no evidence to be in a severe emotional state that pushed him towards his current actions.

"Despite the chaos, the man still holds some sort of a resemblance to a moral compass" Bucky noted. "Four days ago, he was seen demolishing an old rig by the docks. He killed a ton there, but he did save a young girl from getting crushed by those intermodal containers."

"Killing is still killing, Buck. He might have saved a family that day, but he killed hundreds of others in that attack."

• • •

"A quick reading on all those guys from a few days ago, will you, Jarvis?"

[Certainly, sir.]

[You killed approximately 23 people, 17 men and 6 women.]

"Any with family? Friends? Lovers, or friendly exes?"

[Two, sir.]

"Oh," Tony frowned, turning to his computer. He was not one for killing those with family, trying as he might. "Tell me about the two, then."

[Marcus Dean, twenty-eight years old. Death by gravity; crushed. No known friends or extended family, but with two younger sisters by direct connection. Seventeen and fifteen. He was their guardian.]

[Amanda Flynn, thirty-one years old. Death by impalement; steel beam. No known friends or direct family, but with one uncle by extended connection. Fifty-nine years old, a plumber on early retirement.]

"Hm," a pen in his mouth with gazed eyes, "their deaths would hurt them immensely, yes?"

[I cannot give emotional responses, but financially, both will struggle, sir.]

"Anonymous tip of, ah... an upfront of five-hundred grand to the uncle, with a donation of thirty thousand every month for the next four years. Bullshit it, saying it's the government and their life insurance stuff."

[I am certain that is not how life insurance works, si-]

"Just get that done."

[Of course.]

[And of the Dean family?]

"They'll have to be given to CPS for now, but make sure they are able to get into everything they sign for. College, university, nursing, whatever. Don't make it obvious, though. Make them believe it's through their hard work."

[Money cannot solve everything, sir, it is-]

Glass was thrown, shattering across the floor in the billionaire's fit of rage. His hair askew, and muscles aching as the wrapped bandages throughout his body restrict his movement.

"Well I'm sorry Jarvis, but that's all I can fucking do! Cant do anything ELSE, can I?!"

The man collapse back down into his seat, robots screeching in their monotonous beeps as they tried to care for their master, their father.

Tears were visible down the man's face, but he did nothing to slow the streams.

"I killed innocent people, J. Maybe not innocent to the law, but innocent to their uncles. Their sisters. Their family. A-And... and for what? A fucking glowing cube that can move things through space." He could only laugh at his helplessness, "I'm such a monster, aren't I? I'm doing all... all of this for... for..."

As the sentence drew closer to his heart, it visibly pained him to even mutter on the next word.

[I know, sir. I know.]

[I advise you to not exhort yourself any further.]

[You are showing increasingly worrying signs of a panic attack.]

"I..." Tony paled, "I can't even utter their name, J. I can't- I can't let that happen! I'll forget, I don't want to forget! I'll- I'll-"

The lights within the penthouse had immediately darkened, blinds drawn.

Jarvis order one of the bots to fetch for a blanket. The master was in no state to head for the bedroom, much less stand up by himself.

Once set, and the heated tiles keeping Tony comfortable, Jarvis carefully watched over him. He twisted and turned, but no signs of distress were present on the man's features.

He mumbled in his sleep, words both of incoherency and value.

If Jarvis had any say at all, his only desire was to see his master happy again. These past few months parading as Iron Man had clearly worn the man down, but he knew Tony to be nothing but persistent. He just hoped that his plan would work.

Then, all would be well again.