.ೃ࿔*:･𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐢. is it a wonder i broke, let's hear one more joke

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒, each word exchanged between the Avengers growing sharper and more heated. Secretary Ross had left, leaving the team to mull over the implications of the Sokovia Accords.

"Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have." Rhodey said, his voice steady but tinged with frustration.

"So let's say we agree to this thing." Sam began, his voice challenging. "How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?"

Rhodey shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you're just like, 'No, that's cool. We got it.'"

"How long are you going to play both sides?" Sam asked.

"I have an equation." Vision interrupted, his calm voice cutting through the tension.

"Oh, this will clear it up." Sam said.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate." Vision pointed out.

"Are you saying it's our fault?" Steve asked, his voice a mix of concern and defensiveness.

"I'm saying there may be a causality." Vision replied, his tone unwavering. "Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight... oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

Rhodey nodded his head in agreement. "Boom."

From his place on the couch, Tony rolled his eyes dramatically. He had sprawled out at some point, looking almost bored with the ongoing argument.

Natasha couldn't help but notice Tony's behavior. She smirked and called him out. "Tony, you are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal."

Steve turned his gaze to Tony, his voice calm but laced with a simmering anger. "It's because he's already made up his mind."

"Boy, you know me so well." Tony quipped as he got up from the couch, wincing slightly as he rubbed the back of his head. "Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache." He walked over to the kitchen counter, grabbed a mug, and poured himself some coffee. "That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort. Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?"

He casually placed his phone on a mostly untouched fruit basket and tapped it. The phone projected an image of a smiling young man. Tony glanced down at the phone and then back up, as if noticing the picture for the first time. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way," he said with a touch of bitterness. "He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia."

A wave of solemnity washed over the room as each Avenger looked down in shame and realization.

"He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass," Tony continued, his voice now tinged with regret and anger. He took a pill from a nearby bottle and washed it down with a sip of coffee, then turned to face the others. "There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys."

Steve folded his arms across his chest, his expression conflicted. "Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up."

"Who said we're giving up?" Tony retorted.

"We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blames." Steve countered firmly.

"I'm sorry. Steve," Rhodey interjected, his tone measured yet firm. "That- that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA."

"No," Steve argued, his voice firm and unwavering, "but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change."

"That's good." Tony said, his tone surprisingly calm as he walked back to the group. "That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing."

Steve shook his head, frustration evident in his eyes. "Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own."

Tony's expression hardened, his determination clear. "If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later. That's the fact. That won't be pretty."

Wanda, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "You're saying they'll come for me."

"We would protect you." Vision immediately responded.

"Maybe Tony's right." Natasha said, breaking the silence. Ingrid, who sat next to her, turned abruptly, just as confused as Tony by Natasha's words.

"If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off -" Natasha continued, but she was quickly cut off by Sam.

"Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?"

Natasha sighed, the weight of the past few years evident in her eyes. "I'm just... I'm reading the terrain. We have made... some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back."

"Focus up. I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?" Tony asked, his tone laced with surprise.

"Oh, I want to take it back now." Natasha replied.

"No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed--I win.” Tony said.

Before the conversation could continue, Steve's phone buzzed loudly. He glanced at the screen and his expression immediately changed, becoming tense and urgent. "I have to go," he announced abruptly, standing up and dropping the Accords on the coffee table before leaving without another word.

A heavy silence settled over the room after Steve's abrupt departure, each Avenger lost in their thoughts. The unresolved debate hung in the air like a thick fog, clouding the minds of those left behind. Natasha finally turned to Ingrid, breaking the quiet. "Ingrid?"

Suddenly, all eyes shifted to the youngest Avenger. The weight of their collective gaze felt like a spotlight, harsh and unyielding. Ingrid froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked around the room. Each face was a mixture of expectation and impatience, waiting for her to speak as if her opinion could tip the scales of this heated argument.

Ingrid bit her bottom lip, trying to steady herself, but the intensity of the moment made her feel like a deer caught in headlights.

"What do you think about all of this?" Natasha asked gently, her tone softening as she noticed Ingrid’s hesitation. But even that gentleness couldn’t mask the underlying urgency in her voice—Natasha needed to know where Ingrid stood, and she needed to know now.

The room felt like it was closing in on her, the silence suffocating. Rhodey, sensing the tension but misjudging the moment, tried to lighten the mood with a quip. "I think we all know what she’s going to say," he said, referring to Ingrid’s earlier conversation with Ross, his tone casual but almost dismissive.

Ingrid rolled her eyes, the exasperation clear. "I think Steve's right," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet firm.

She fidgeted with the rings on her fingers, a nervous habit she had developed in moments of stress. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue. "We made mistakes, and we weren’t perfect," she admitted, her voice growing a little stronger. "But the world is safer with us in charge than with the same government that wanted to nuke New York back in 2012. We just need to be more careful next time, I guess."

"Too bad there won't be a next time for you," Tony said, his tone casually dismissive as he paced the room.

Ingrid’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief and mounting anxiety. "What? Why not?"

Natasha, sensing the brewing argument, placed a calming hand on Ingrid’s shoulder. Her touch was gentle, but there was an unmistakable urgency in her voice. "You're fifteen, Ingrid," she said, trying to keep her tone soothing. "Legally, you can’t sign the Accords—"

Tony cut her off. "Not without a parent or guardian. And considering your parent is..." He glanced around the room, his gaze momentarily faltering as he struggled to find the right words, "unavailable," he finally said, his voice trailing off into a grim silence. "The only option left for you is to retire."

The word hit Ingrid like a slap. Retire. Her face flushed a deep crimson as her anger and frustration bubbled over. She shot up from the couch, her movements sharp. "What? No way! I’m not retiring!" She balled her fists, her nails digging so deeply into her palms that they drew blood. She glanced around the room, her gaze pleading, then hardening as she saw the others avoiding her eyes, their heads hung low in uneasy silence. Their refusal to meet her gaze felt like a judgment, a silent agreement that this was the best course of action. It compounded her distress, making her feel small, insignificant.

"You can’t force me to do that," she said, her voice trembling but defiant, trying to sound stronger than she felt. The words tumbled out, half to convince herself, half to challenge the authority that was being forced upon her. "I don't have to do anything." But even as she said it, doubt gnawed at her resolve, her voice wavering.

Natasha stood up as well, trying to diffuse the escalating tension before it boiled over. "Ingrid, calm down," she urged, her voice gentle but firm, as if hoping that reason could still prevail. "We need to talk about this."

But Ingrid’s frustration had already reached its breaking point. She could feel it building inside her like a volcano, and Natasha’s calmness only made it worse, as if no one truly understood what being an Avenger meant to her. She spun toward Natasha, her emotions spilling over uncontrollably. "No!"

Without waiting for a response, Ingrid turned her fury back on Tony. "I didn’t risk my life and get into arguments with Dad to become an Avenger just for you to make me retire!" she shouted. Each word was a desperate attempt to make them see how wrong this was, how unfair.

Tony stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he remained silent. She could see his jaw clenching, but that only fueled her fire. "I don’t care what any of you say, and I don’t care what Ross says!" she continued, her voice growing louder, angrier.

"The only person who could tell me what to do is..." Her voice wavered, the anger giving way to something much more vulnerable, much more painful.

Ingrid could feel her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes at just a single thought of her dad. She blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. Her throat was tight, and she gulped as she glanced around the room, searching for something—someone—to hold on to, but finding only the same silence, the same avoidance. "Somewhere, maybe even dead, and even he wouldn’t agree with this bullshit!" she finished, her voice trembling as she pointed accusingly at the Accords lying on the coffee table.

Tony’s face shifted from frustration to realization as he saw the dangerous direction the argument was heading. The fire in Ingrid’s eyes was unmistakable, and for a moment, Tony hesitated, raising his hand in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, that's enough!" he exclaimed, trying to cut the confrontation short before it spiraled further out of control.

But Ingrid was beyond reason now. She marched up to Tony, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached, her eyes blazing with defiance. Standing toe-to-toe with him, she tilted her head up, staring him down with a fierce intensity. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I'll do whatever I want, and there’s nothing any of you can say to stop me."

For a split second, Tony seemed to reconsider, but the challenge in Ingrid’s voice reignited his own stubbornness. His eyes narrowed, and a hint of a challenge crept into his tone. "Really? You think so?" he countered, his tone laced with an edge that was both a dare and a warning.

Ingrid crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her posture rigid and unyielding. "Yeah, I do," she shot back, her voice barely audible to anyone but Tony.

Tony’s expression hardened and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a cold, calculated whisper that cut through the air like a blade. "Watch this." His gaze bored into her, unyielding, the tension between them hanging thick in the air. A heavy silence settled between them as Tony's gaze locked onto Ingrid's with an intensity that was almost unbearable.

Then, Tony delivered the blow he knew would cut the deepest. "Your father would be so disappointed in how you're turning out."

The words hit their mark like a physical strike. Ingrid’s face paled, the color draining from her cheeks as her eyes widened in shock. The anger that had fueled her moments ago seemed to evaporate, leaving behind a hollow ache in its place. She took a step back, her resolve shaken to its core. Her chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat as she fought to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Natasha, her eyes filled with concern, stepped forward, calling out to Ingrid. But Ingrid couldn’t bear to stay any longer. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left the room, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence.