Tony Stark sat on a lavishly expensive leather couch, a crystal scotch glass in his hand. There was not much of the honey coloured liquid left, and every time he moved it would swish entrancingly around, catching his attention every time. He sat quietly as he stared at the alcohol, taking sips occasionally. His mind was completely elsewhere however. The new base was almost completely silent-save for the soft hum of electricity. To most it would be relaxing and soothing, but to him... To him it only served as a painful reminder of what he lost. Everything that mattered to him most of all.

His team, his friends, his family. He remembered everything like it had been yesterday; the debate on whether or not they should sign the Sokovia Accord, finding James Buchanan Barnes, half his team turning on him, finding out that James had killed his parents, and worst of all... losing the only other family he had. Yes, he had Rhodey, Vision, Natasha, Thor, and T'Challa, but both Vision and T'Challa were not people he would consider friends. And Natasha had betrayed him after all, to allow Steve and James to escape. Rhodey-seemingly his only friend left-was still on the road to recovery. He of course spared no expense on his treatment to help him, getting the best doctors and medication that money could buy. Thor was still out of world at the moment. God knows where and what the hell he was doing when his team actually needed him. When he needed him. Even Bruce was still under the radar-as if he had disappeared off of the face of the earth. Oh, and the new kid, Peter, was barely even on a first name basis with him yet. Plus he had turned down a position as an Avenger. Had it really come to the point where not even a hyperactive fifteen year old would want to join a team of superheroes?

He sighed deeply and took another long swig at the liquid, desperately craving the happy buzz enough of it brought and the faint burning sensation that came as it went down his throat. All he wanted nowadays was to forget everything with enough alcohol. To forget the fact that he had been the one to finally disband his own team. The man who destroyed the Avengers. They had survived Thor's psychotic brother, an army of aliens destroying New York, even a deranged robot army-granted that was of his own making. And yet... This was what finally tore them apart. His own guilt and supposedly justified choices. He hated himself for it. Steve had promised that if he ever needed them, they'd be there to help. Somehow that only made Tony's anger against him and his friend grow. But as much as he wanted to hate him... He could never. Steve had been his teammate. His friend. He could never hate him, because... He would have done the same thing for him or anyone else on the team.

He almost dropped his glass at the sharp, sudden sound of his cellphone's ringtone going off. He lazily patted around his pockets in search of the ringing device with a few choice swear words. He eventually found it and glanced at the number: Unknown. He sighed again and swiped his finger across the screen, holding it against his ear.

"What?" He asked, irritation clear in his voice towards the unknown caller that had disturbed his thoughts-and drinking.

"Stark?" He identified the voice immediately as Thaddeus Ross. The man who basically owned him at the moment. The man that he despised more than Barnes himself. More than he despised himself, in fact.

"What?" He repeated in annoyance.

"I've got a new mission for you, and possibly Rhodes." Tony just grunted in reply, slouching back against the couch and taking a small sip from the glass, before realising with a mixture of frustration and regret that he had already finished it. "You will need to find and take down-in any way possible-someone for me. He has committed several crimes, and needs to be taken out. Our efforts so far have been futile." Tony frowned, slowly digesting what he was saying. Taken out. It hurt him more than he cared to admit that he knew he had become the government's attack dog, while he had been biased towards Barnes for being the same for Hydra.

"I'm not-" He forcefully stopped himself, a war raging inside of himself. I'm not a murderer...

"Not what?" Thaddeus' voice came again, a warning tone to his voice.

"-not sure Rhodey will be able to make it." He finished lamely with a silent sigh of resignation. "Where is this guy?"

"Manhattan. He was last seen at a small coffee shop named Abraço. I'll send you the details now. You'll leave tomorrow." As always, no room for discussion. No room for arguing. No room for a choice. Finding nothing better to do with his time, he reached for the remote and switched on the TV-a large, overly expensive and extravagant thing that he barely used anyway. Immediately the image of a blonde reporter appeared on screen, a grim look on her pretty face. Behind her was what looked to be a crime scene, with yellow tape cordoning off the area. And although he could only see the background vaguely, the sight made him frown. Multiple body bags were cast along the ground, blood staining sections of the road an almost brownish-red colour, and bullet casings could be seen littering the floor. He turned the volume up, his curiosity and interest peaked.

"-today has been a tragic day, with the body count higher than we have seen in months. While the unknown criminal involved in the massacre is still at large, the police are confident that they will catch him. He was last seen wearing a black hoodie and jeans, although no bystanders were able to identify him or see his face. What started the gunfight, we don't know. But the results have left almost a dozen unknown people dead. Who is this mystery murderer? And why has he committed this atrocious act? Find out more at-" He muted the television again, frowning deeply. This bothered him immensely. He hadn't been there to save those people... But he could've. His eyes caught on a dark figure in the background of the scene though, an expression of confusion flashing over his features. He could see a man, dressed smartly in a suit, standing behind the police tape above a black body bag.

Tony's dark eyes widened fractionally as the man turned around. "Is that... Ross?" He murmured, mainly to himself though. Before he could make sure though, he turned around and walked out of view again. If he was involved with this, would that mean the killer was the guy he had ordered him to go after? Was this why he was sending him to take him out? If so, then he understood why he had ordered him to take him out. He was a dangerous murderer. He couldn't be out on the streets. He chewed on the inside of his cheek slowly, not noticing his actions. Perhaps he should be leaving tonight instead of tomorrow... Just to get a headstart. "FRIDAY, get me all information about any gunfights in the city today." He ordered, his words surprisingly sharp and taut considering how much he had had to drink that evening. After a few moments of wordless electric humming, a holographic screen lit up from the band he wore on his wrist. It showed countless newspaper articles, YouTube videos, live reports, and social media messages. His gaze scanned across it slowly. He had a lot of research to do.

. . .

Perseus smiled tightly at the young man who handed him his bag of groceries, a soft 'Thank you' automatically leaving his lips. He walked away from the bored man chewing gum at the counter disgustingly, hiding back the urge to grimace at his dishevelled and... Honestly grimy appearance. Then again, he didn't expect much else coming from an old, small grocery shop like that. He walked down the street, ignoring the few people that walked past him on their ways to their own dull lives-although he was on the lookout. He was always on the lookout. He had to be in order to survive. His oceanic eyes flicked over their faces and body language for a few seconds each before dubbing them harmless, much to his relief. He didn't want to blow his cover further with more deaths at his hand. He did not need that right now.

He adjusted the light bag in his hands in order to be able to push the door to a large apartment building open. The lobby was tiny and the elevator had broken down a long time ago; cordoned off with yellow tape for safety. Not that he minded much though-stairs were often more practical than elevators when it came to fighting or escaping. He took the stairs two at a time, moving past the many floors quickly to avoid confrontation with the other current residents. He crinkled his nose at the assault on his nose, the smell of bad cooking, numerous drugs, and heavy alcohol wafting together from the small apartments throughout each story. Shouting and music could be heard prominently as well. But he ignored it all and continued his path upwards.

He stopped at the door to the small apartment he had been renting for the past two weeks, unlocking it with his free hand. A door-with the glass smashed seemingly a long time ago-at the end of the hallway opened, and a woman stepped out, causing Percy's eyes to flicker over to her for a second suspiciously. She was quite pale, with dark eyes and even darker hair. They stared at each other for a few moments, before he opened the door and looked away.

"You new here?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest as she stared at him.

Percy sighed and looked back at her. Damn. He had been caught by a neighbour. "Yeah, I am." He tried to make his tone as cut off as possible so that hopefully she wouldn't continue the conversation. His hopes however were shattered as she walked towards him.

"Jessica. Jessica Jones. Your neighbour apparently." She held out a hand for him. He bit back a sigh as he used his free hand to shake hers, noting that she had a strong grip. Her eyes flickered over his hand for a moment, studiously taking in the scars visible on them. He didn't know what it was about her, but something screamed danger.

"Percy Jackson." He answered simply, retracting his hand again. "If you'll excuse me, I've got groceries to pack away." He tried to excuse himself from any further talking.

Jessica watched him for a few moments and he could see a vague hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Right." She started walking back to her apartment again without another word. Formalities but no friendliness. He could deal with that. He sighed in slight relief, stepping inside his crappy apartment and shutting the door behind him; making sure to lock it. There was something... Off about his neighbor, but he couldn't tell what it was. He pushed the thought away for now though and headed towards the tiny kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter. He ran his fingers through his already messy hair absentmindedly, deciding to unpack the groceries later rather. He walked out of the kitchen, making his way around the whole of the small apartment, checking that every window was still locked, that nothing at all had been touched, and that there were absolutely no intruders hiding somewhere-however unlikely that would be. But he had to be careful. Once he was sure, he headed towards the bedroom. The dingy apartment still stank of the lingering scent of drugs, but he could deal with that. Apparently the old tenant was an ex-drug addict, but he couldn't be too sure. That's what the landlord had told him anyway.

Bed still neatly made and the bland curtains covering the closed windows, he flicked on the light to illuminate the bedroom. Just as he had left it. Exactly as he had left it.

With a weary sigh, he sat himself on the edge of his bed, debating silently on what to do. He shrugged to himself, grabbing ahold of the remote for the small, old TV on the even older shelf in the corner of the room. The screen blurred and went static-y for a few moments, before the bad quality image cleared up a bit, revealing a female reporter standing in front of the street that he had been walking through just earlier that day. Well, not particularly walking...

"-the unknown criminal involved in the massacre is still at large, the police are confident that they will catch him." He clenched his jaw, internally cursing himself for his stupidity. He shouldn't have killed all those agents in such an obvious place. It was practically begging for attention. Unfortunately, it had been kill or be killed, so he hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings. What a foolish, rookie mistake to make. It seemed he was getting rusty. He continued to watch the screen with rapt attention though, his face turning into a grimace with every word she spoke.

"He was last seen wearing a black hoodie and jeans, although no bystanders were able to identify him or see his face. What started the gunfight, we don't know. But the results have left almost a dozen unknown people dead. Who is this-" With a violent outburst of swear words, he roughly pressed down on the button again, switching the seemingly ancient TV off again. He couldn't listen to any more of it. He had been stupid. Damn.

He stood up suddenly, needing to do... To do something to help relax him; even if it was a tiny thing. He paused for a moment, before heading towards the kitchen. Maybe cooking could help him. Even though he barely ever had the time to do so, he was surprisingly good at cooking. His cookies were to die for as well. A soft, derisive snort left his throat at that.

'All SHIELD needed to do to capture me was to tempt me with one of those.' He thought sarcastically, a bitter smile stretching across his face. 'Ah, if only my life was that easy...'

The thought of those blue cookies caused his heart to pang with grief, although he couldn't remember why. Maybe that was why his heart ached whenever he thought about or made the sweet treats. Maybe it was because he couldn't remember how he had gotten the recipe. He couldn't remember when he had started making them. He just couldn't remember. And that killed him a little bit inside.

He couldn't remember if he had once had a family. He couldn't remember if he had friends. He couldn't remember anything from his past. No mother, no father, no home, no pets. Nothing. The last thing he had remembered was... Getting captured by SHIELD and experimented on. He knew that they had done something to his memories; as if erasing his entire past. What he didn't know was why he had regained certain memories and knowledge-but nothing from his time before SHIELD. Nothing. He had tried everything he could to get those memories back, but to no avail. Every time he tried to think into his past, he would get mind shattering headaches and nosebleeds. Side effects perhaps? But why, he could not tell that either. So he decided not to delve into the subject too deeply anymore. He barely had the time for it anyway.

With an unsatisfied noise in the back of his throat, he started to pack his groceries away into the empty cupboards. Perhaps that mundane task would keep his ADHD mind from straying and wandering away. He wouldn't be staying there too long, he knew that already, but he would at least hopefully get to stay there for at least a week. He wanted some time to just relax, and get away from his problems.

Knowing his luck though, he would not be that fortunate.