The Golden Sunshine✓ Tony Stark [Book 2]

22: Funeral.

Sam, Rhodey and Nat had been arguing about this for the past thirty minutes. I could feel Wanda and Pietro's gaze on me and also Steve's constant staring as I fondled with the bracelets. It was beeping, two colours beeping consistently. Blue and green.
At least it's fashionable.

"Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have." Rhodey exclaims.

Rhodey agreed with Ross, but in my opinion it's only because of his military training. Follow orders and whatnot.

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

"A 117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you're just like, 'No, that's cool. We got it.'" Rhodey retorts.

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

"I have an equation." Vision says cutting both of them off.

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

"In the six 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 explains.

"Are you saying it's our fault?" I ask, disapproval dripping from my voice.

"I'm saying there may be a causality. 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." Vision states and my frown deepens.

"Boom." Rhodey agrees.

"Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal." Nat says making me roll my chair to face dad, my hand going up to my necklace.

"It's because he's already made up his mind." Steve says, looking up from the documents in his hands.

"Boy, you know me so well." Dad says as he stands up, holding the back of his head.
"Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache." He says as he walks into the kitchen and grabs a mug.

"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?" Dad complains and I turn to Pietro who merely shrugs.

I turn back to dad, only to see the image of Charles Spencer projecting.
"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. 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." He says and I look down, fondling the crystal.

"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." He stops to take a sip of his coffee after popping the pill in his mouth.

"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." He says and I frown.
Did he just say whatever form?

"Even if it means bounding us like animals." I scoff. I know I promised to support him in whatever he does but this is where I draw the line.

This is where we're different. He is just a man in a suit of armor and I am an enhanced individual. He could decide he didn't want to be Iron Man right here and now and it would happen, but it's not the same for us.