Fic: When the World Came Down (1/5) Rated R

[empty-splendor.livejournal.com]

Author: empty_splendor

Title: When the World Came Down: Part one/five

Rating: R - For language and violence

Summary: Steve Rogers wakes up in a world changed from the one he left behind, a world obliterated by nuclear war and must learn to exist in the new world while he tries to fix his friendship with Tony Stark, or maybe explore it beyond friendship, as they with a rag tag team of avengers past and present fight one last time against one of their greatest foes.

Beta Used: yes, wonderful jazzypom who put up with me, god knows why.

Verse: 616/with a MA spice

Archive: Whatever you'd like to do

Warning: There isn't a happy ending. I'll be more specific when it gets to that point, but... just so you know now, it doesn't end well.

A/N: I've done a bit of handwaving: No Skrull War, no current Dark Reign, no One More Day/Brand New Day and Peter has organic webbing. It's a brand new world and it does take place a few years after the Civil War... but all will be made clear in the story. :)






Part One: Welcome to The Real World, Now

To say that he was "unprepared" at the sight laid out before him would have been an understatement.

The landscape he had adjusted to after being released from his ice floe had been drastically altered, and if he hadn’t known better he’d have sworn another sixty years had passed. However, the date read 2012 according to a calendar on the wall in the dirty abandoned room he found himself in. The building was devoid of any other life; there was only some medical equipment and utensils behind, a few scattered chairs, a worn and sunken in couch, a couple of lamps and fold out tables. Folded in a pile on the table was the uniform he'd once worn like a second skin, the boots sitting on the floor beside it, the cowl resting on top but the shield was no where to be found. Without another option and deciding not to venture out into the world without anything on, the uniform made itself home on his body again.

The world outside the doors was a shades of umber and brown, the ground void of anything growing; the sky somber ash, a muddy world without life. It seemed to be in constant twilight; the sky shades of lifeless gray, dull, depressed clouds covering the sun like a shroud, save for a few tendrils of light that managed to squeeze their way through. There was nothing green remaining as far as Steve could tell. Buildings once tall and ominous were rubble at his feet, hollowed out by bombing as if they’d been abandoned for ages, and what he was walking among were ruins.

These were the ruins of a once great civilization.

Steve Rogers recognized this world as one that had been blanketed by war. Was it his world? He wasn’t sure. His only hope was to find someone who knew the answer to his questions. There were several that came to mind. Where was he? What happened? What seemed even less important now, how was he even alive? Steve had plenty of time to consider these questions as he walked down the empty street, seeing nothing in sight, let alone a person. He wasn’t entirely convinced he’d find anyone alive.

Stepping over rubble, he picked his way through the mess of broken concrete and scattered asphalt, attempting to avoid chunks of brick, support beams, broken glass and a number of other things. An eerie silence settled around him, and Steve wondered if maybe he hadn’t woken up at all. Probably he was still asleep. Perhaps he wasn’t alive at all, he hadn’t returned from anything and this was some sort of purgatory while he waited for final judgement. He hoped that any of those scenarios, unpleasant as the might be, were the reality of what he was experiencing. Waking up to a world like this seemed cruel.

Steve stumbled slightly over something in front of him; looked to see what his had caught his foot bending down to pick it up and felt the wince coming before the action occurred. It appeared to be a gun of some kind with a design that wasn't familiar, no magazine to check it for ammunition, but on the side was a name he recognized. He felt a slight flutter in his heart as he closed his eyes , and drew in a deep breath. Stark Industries.

“Well I don’t have my shield so… this will have to do.”


In the distance, he saw the remains of a Ferris wheel, and Steve suspected that he was near Coney Island. Maybe he’d find some answers there. If not, it was at least a start, he told himself, to have a recognizable landmark.

Hours passed, and all he heard was the sound of his boots crunching on the asphalt that littered the path in broken chunks beneath his feet. Somewhere along the way the asphalt had become gravel and he wasn’t sure why or how.


Sudden sound marred the silence around him. Senses on high alert, Steve slipped his hands onto the gun, readying it to fire. He wasn’t sure how to use it, as it was a tech far more advanced than he was used to. Luckily, the essentials of a weapon were still fundamental; there was a trigger and he knew which end to aim, so he had the basics. If it didn't work as a firing weapon, he could use it as a blunt force object at least.

The sound grew louder and Steve stopped in his tracks. He looked around to see if he could see his enemy, then crouched behind what used to be a wall, but was long since destroyed by whatever destruction had occurred.

“Who’s there?” he called out cautiously .

Steve was hoping for a human answer, but what he received in return was something more along the lines of an inhuman growl. Curiosity got the better of Steve and he peeked his head up from his cover to see what the sound had come from. Out of nowhere, a long arm lashed out, lighting quick, towards Steve's face. Reflexively, Steve moved, his body tucked into a tight roll. Undeterred, Steve's assailant leaped at him, swinging wildly. Breath in his throat, Steve somersaulted over the ... thing, and blindly, he swung the gun, sighted its head in his sights and fired.

Its barrel fired what reminded him of one of Iron Man’s repulsor rays- a straight, sharp; punch of power- and it hit whatever his attack was straight in the chest. It went down and remained motionless on the ground. He waited. One, two, three, four… and it stayed down.

Steve took a breath, took a moment to let the adrenaline subside, let himself relax. He moved in, slowly, gun trained and aimed steady on the corpse, just in case it got up and attacked again. When he got a better look, he cringed. The skin, he guessed, was pulled tightly against the bone, and most of it was decayed and crumbling off, like a leper from the Bible. It was tinted a slight greenish color, almost brown like everything else around him, its open eyes were inky and empty, its teeth were rotten and sharp, tapering to a wicked point at the ends. The hands were bony with long, angry fingers and unkempt nails with a yellowish discoloration likely the result of fungus. The legs were long and lanky with knees that were a bit knobby like a tall kid who hadn't yet grown into his bones. There were no signs of any nutrition as the bones from the rib cage were jetting out, and likewise with the collarbone, pelvic region, elbow and shoulder blades leaving it pot-bellied and painfully thin.


The crunch of gravel underfoot distracted him from his inspection of the dead attacker. Steve quickly spun around, gun hoisted at shoulder, ready to fire, but he didn’t see another one of those things. Instead, there was something else that caused his blood to surge in his veins... more from cheer than stress. Steve almost felt drunk with relief at what he saw next.


Steve couldn't help but smile because he finally saw something he was comfortable with; someone he knew. Hanging upside down from one of his webbing lines was Peter Parker: his webs connected to a beam exposed out of the building before him, wide-eyed and awestruck with his hair a bit longer than Steve was used to seeing, and his face held a bit of stubble that looked unnatural and out of place on his face, ageing him substantially. Of course, Peter was older now than he was when Steve had passed away and for a moment that seemed an eternity they stared at each other in sort of disbelief.

“Cap!” Peter exclaimed.

“Peter!”

“...So it was World War III just as expected. And weird too since the Mayans said that that the world would end in 2012 and… well basically it did.” Peter explained, while he and Steve walked. “Since just about every country had a nuke at this point, everyone released theirs. It was crazy- as if they’d forgotten how they worked. The United Nations was disbanded. We were told to take shelter or get cover wherever we could. We did. And the survivors have built cities with what we’ve got to work with…” Peter was rabbiting a mile a minute.

The two of them continued the path toward Coney Island, which as Peter had explained, was now called the Coney Colony that now had a sect of survivors living there. It consisted of mostly human and a few pre-war mutants, Peter explained. He noted to Steve that he had to distinguish that pre-war mutants were mutants who hadn’t been altered by radiation poisoning. As far as his story implied, most of their old friends had survived. The ones that were unaccounted for were best left that way. If they were alive they’d found some other survivors, and form colonies. Or if they were not they were one of those zombie things or another from of mutation due to the radiation.


“What you killed? That’s a zonbi. People that were so exposed to radiation that it just… mutated them into... that. They have no reason or anything. They just know how to attack and survive. Other than that, the radiation has made them into what we call walking zonbi. They’re people that were radiated but still can communicate and stuff.” Peter shrugged. “The radiation mutants are like… stuff I used to fight as Spider-Man.”

Eventually, they arrived at what could only be described as gates. The settlement stood out as a beacon of life in the empty landscape around it. A large man let Peter in with a nod. Pete waved but the man’s view was focused now on Steve. Steve found himself looking away quickly. The man wore scrap metal on torso, arms and legs. He was holding a gun, similar to the model Steve had found in the street. As he followed Peter he took survey of the new surroundings.

“Welcome to Coney Colony…” Peter laughed half-heartedly. “Uh, it’s what we’ve managed to scrape together.”

"Managed" seemed to be the best word for it. The center of the town was what he recognized as an old eatery building. It had probably been a hot dog stand or location for funnel cakes. Now it was the “town hall” and it was the only actual building in the colony. The pathways were built from sheets of scrap metal. Things were stacked on top of each other to make raised platforms for homes to sit upon, all of them cobbled from pieces of whatever metal was lying about. The place had a few people wandering about appearing worse for wear, a bit dirty and slightly ragged looking. It was almost like the middle ages had collided with the industrial revolution and neither had progressed any further. Steve noticed a large hill of rocks and uplifted ground in the distance beyond the colony's gates, a mountain above a city. It wasn’t a natural formation, but one that was likely made out of an explosion moving ground up and out with force and inertia from the impact until it rolled up to form a small mountain of dirt, grass and rock. A top it sat another building, he wasn’t sure what it had been before but from a distance the bricks and beams seemed relatively intact. There were long, large yellow tubes coming from the ocean and leading in through the back of the building like snakes stretched out over the landscape. Around it another fence that seemed to be rusting out of commission.

“Hey, you can stay with me for awhile if you’d like. Until we can find you a vacancy.” Peter said.

“Thank you, Peter.” Steve replied dazedly, while still trying to absorb his surroundings.

Peter gave Steve's back a bracing pat. “It’ll take some getting used to. But we all did it.”

Steve nodded as he took another glance around. He wasn’t sure where to start with getting familiar with this new place. He didn’t know if there were other places outside the walls or how far away they were. For now, he’d just have to take it one day at a time. This was an adjustment, Steve told himself. He’d adjusted to a new world before and he could do it again, not matter how ugly or somber it might be.

Peter entered one of the scrap metal buildings. Inside, it was surprisingly spacious. Peter had mentioned in passing about having an architect in the colony who helped them build so that the structures were sound and livable. This was not a home, but what appeared to be a watering hole. It figured, Alcohol had survived nuclear war. He took a seat with Peter at the bar, which was - surprise- an actual bar counter. Probably it had been pillaged from somewhere, but he didn’t think that mattered much.

“I’ll have a coke for me and my friend.” Peter put down two Legos on the counter.

They were red Legos.

The bartender took the legos and handed them each a coke, in a bottle. Steve looked at Peter with bare curiousity.

“Were those Legos?”

“That’s currency now. Each color is a different value. Red ones are an equal to a dollar. They surprisingly survived the war.” Pete took a drink, and shrugged. “So did Twinkies.”

In spite of everything that he had seen so far, Steve laughed, because legos just seemed so... incongruous. “You use Legos as money? That’s… unbelievable.”

Peter grinned, knowing that it was something to make Steve laugh, especially when he was so overwhelmed. It must have sucked for him to wake up in a world that changed on him- and it hadn't been the first time.

“Hey, I know it sucks here… but… I’m glad you're back.” Peter said.


After they talked, and Pete filled him in a bit more on the eccentricity of the new society, they left the bar and ventured across the dirt path toward a make shift series of steps made of scrap metal. Up the steps to a series of platforms toward a scrap metal building that could best be described as a tiny tin cabin. Peter entered, holding the door for Cap. As Steve stepped inside, he was relieved to see that Mary Jane had also survived.

MJ had always been a spark of life in the time that Steve had known her. Time and the change of the world had altered her physical appearance, dulling the bright shine her fiery red hair once held to a more muted orange. Her frame was waif like now and her shirt and jeans hung a bit too loosely on her body. The light in her green eyes retained its luster despite her weathered appearance with fine lines around her eyes and mouth, her skin a bit darker from exposure to the elements.

“Well… of all the people I expected to come through that door, Steve Rogers was not one of them.” MJ greeted with a grin.

Peter gave him a glance over. "We should get you some clothes. Walking around in that old costume will get embarrassing."

Steve looked over his clothing before giving Peter a shrug. "This is all I had available."

MJ gave him a brief, tight hug before going to the other room to find some clothes for him. She returned with a folded selection she'd picked: a simple blue tee-shirt, a pair of khaki cargo pants and a blue button-up shirt. He thanked her with a peck on the cheek before going to change into them in the other room. Although the tee shirt was a bit snug around the neck, the clothes were more comfortable than the Captain America uniform had been.

MJ took a seat after setting out a few plates on the rickety metal table for dinner. The square fold out was more of a poker table for a game room than a dinner table for a family. Peter had come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her neck and planting a kiss on her cheek. They were still happy and that was something Steve hadn't expected to find here with all the apparent misery that existed outside this home.

“I’m going to be honest,” Steve sighed heavily. “I have… a lot of questions.”

Peter took the final seat at the table between MJ and Steve.

“I’ll answer them the best I can.”

Steve nodded and sat back. It took him a few moments to really catalogue all of them in his head. Finally, he took a breath.

“What happened with Registration?”

It was the easiest place to start. It was the best place to start, really. That was where he’d left off. He watched Peter shift uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn’t a bright topic for either of them, because a lot had happened before Steve had died. He could only imagine what Peter had gone through after... he'd gone.

“Well, I mean it passed. And you know that. So that happened.” Peter gave a shrug. “There wasn’t really much else to be done. You either registered or you didn’t- but then SHIELD and the Mighty Avengers got kind of sidetracked by World War III. There wasn’t much else going on after that because America was at war and the rest of the world with it so, we didn’t have time to deal with crap between heroes, I guess.”

Steve was confused. “Mighty Avengers?”

Peter snorted. “Shield’s crack team of heroes hand picked by Director Stark.”

The name made Steve flinch slightly.

There was a howl and the sound of clanking that shook the tiny place as if it were made of dried twigs. Steve tensed at the sound, reaching for the gun he'd had with him when he entered. MJ squealed, more out of surprise than fear. It was Peter who reacted first, grabbing a gun that was propped against the wall, similar to the one Steve had found on the street. He flung himself up on the ceiling and stayed there, inching toward the door. Steve followed, taking the ground heading for the door. Just before he reached it, it flew open.

There was nothing for a moment as the door swung open; a thick, pregnant silence in the air, waiting for an eruption to disrupt it. Then a scream ripped into the stillness of the air and Steve moved to the side of the open door, gun at the ready. Peter saw a few people running pass the door and gave Steve a glance before running toward the door. Steve quickly exited the building, the clank of his shoes on the tin still surprising him when he heard it. He surveyed the area, watching the direction that people were running in. Peter hoped down beside him, the clattering sound of metal shuddering under his weight.

Shots were fired to the East and they both looked to see what was being fired at. On the ground lay a wolf that probably weighed in on the same level as the Hulk. Steve looked at it in wide eyed disbelief. To his knowledge things like that had never existed in his lifetime. Looking closer, Steve supposed that the wolf was likely the result of mutation. Its hair was matted and snarled. The teeth were over grown from its snout and the dental formation looked painful.

“I hate those things,” Peter said, the hint of a shudder in his voice.

Steve looked at him. “What is it?”

“A wolf… just… radiated.”

Steve looked back at the wolf. And then he noted the gunman, who was trying to calm a little girl who’d nearly been devoured by the thing. He smiled a bit as soon as he recognized the person's features. It was Sam. A bit older and greyer, but it was Sam.

Sam was alive and for a moment Steve was at ease. Steve hoped to find more of these moments with people he cared about turning up unexpectedly in one piece having survived the end of the world. But Steve knew that it wasn’t likely. Eventually he would find out who was gone, who hadn’t survived, who’d changed, who’d become one of those things zombie. For all he knew, that zombie he’d killed before meeting Peter could have been someone he’d once called friend. But for now, Steve focused on this wink in time, just looking at his long lost friend.

Sam looked toward where they were standing and Peter gave him a wave. Sam Wilson just stood there, separated from them by the metal platform in the air, and built up on what used to be pipes and bearings for other buildings and rides from Astroland. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he approached, making his way up a set of the makeshift stairs. Peter grinned.

“Hey, look what I found!” Peter yelled at Sam, his voice upbeat.

There weren’t any words needed in this moment between them. Steve couldn’t tell which one of them stepped forward first, but it hardly mattered. They met each other at the same instant, and the hug was as manly as it could be in a moment like that one.

“You’re... alive!” Sam cheered. “I don’t know how or why or where the hell you’ve been during all this shit. But you’re alive!”

Sam's good mood was infectious, and Steve gave him a lopsided smile in response. “I don’t know either. But I’m happy to see you.”

Two hours was all it took to show Steve the entire colony. It was half the size of the former amusement park that had once called the grounds home but Peter assured him it was one of the bigger colonies or at least the most inhabited. He was amazed to see how easily things had been made from nothing. An old car from a rollercoaster had been taken apart and made into a bench on the side of the path. Other pieces had been disassembled into various things to build a house or a table or a well. All of the things had been put together by sheer ingenuity. Steve had to admit, he was impressed.

He stayed the first night with Peter and MJ but the next night they found him an empty shelter, which just happened to be next to Sam’s.

Steve figured that wasn’t an accident. Sam helped him get comfortable in his new home, before leaving him to his own devices, to adjust a bit.

Steve spent some time, soaking in the industrialized feel of this new place. It was built of nothing but metal and heart and people who had spirits that wouldn’t die. He made his way up the staircase to the small room that held a bed that probably had seen better days. For a brief moment it reminded him of army barracks. He took a seat on the worn mattress and let out a breath. Tomorrow, he’d probe for more information on who was alive and who was not, and anything else he could drag out of Peter or Sam.

Lying back, he looked up at the roof, resting his head on his arms. The ceiling had been patched with some wood that had come from a packing crate. It had a fading label on it that he had to squint to read. Stark Industries. Although Tony might not be around, or even alive, he'd left behind the remains of his existence like a mark on this world. His own proverbial 'Tony Stark Was Here'. Steve rolled over onto his side and went to sleep.


The "break neck" pace of Coney Colony was really something you had to get used to, like the way New York had been in constant motion, always somewhere to go or something interesting to do. There weren't many things to do here though the others seemed to have a pretty regular routine, Steve felt out of place and found it hard to not constantly question what happened.

Sam watched as Steve lifted a chunk of sheet metal over his head. Today they were repairing a hole in the general store’s roof. Minor things made this place thrive and as such they were handled as if they were the biggest things in the world. Since Steve still had the benefit of his super soldier strength, he was more than happy to help out with chores of lifting things and helping to build. Whatever the colony needed, he would do. This was his home now.

“We’re going to be running out of water soon.” Sam told him.

“What do you mean?” Steve grunted as he lifted a large piece of sheet metal over his head.

Steve lowered the sheet metal onto the roof and Sam handed him a large sledgehammer. Without electric tools they had to improvise. It would have been nice to have them but they were a luxury, since the little electricity they had needed to be saved for business and homes. He was fairly confident however that his strength could pound the piece of metal into place.

“I mean the purified water we’ve got now is almost gone. Without more, we’re screwed. The next colony isn’t for miles and who knows, they might be just as bad off as we are.” Sam replied.

“Well how do we get more?” Steve asked.

Sam smiled a bit. “Well…”

He turned and motioned toward the large tubes that lead from the ocean to the building on the hill. They looked like construction tubing, a splattered with dirt and sand covering the bleached out yellow of the tubes. Steve looked at them, and then at Sam.

“We’re getting water from there?”

Sam scoffed. “Supposedly. Supposedly we’re supposed to be running a water purification plant up there. I have yet to see it produce anything. I think it’s worthless. The idea was with purified water we’d be able to start growing crops and making this place well…”

Steve looked around and couldn’t help but smile. He knew what Sam was going to say. They needed to make this place liveable. He sighed and sat down on the edge of a platform, watching his feet dangle over the earth below.

“Who’s up there, running the show? Someone capable I hope.” Steve took a swig from the bottle of coke Sam handed him.

“We don’t know. Place is restricted. But whoever it is, they better hurry it up.”

For a moment he could have sworn Sam sounded worried. When Sam sat beside him there was silence for a long stretch as they stared out at the outline of the sun behind the clouds. Silence passed between them though both had many things to say to the other but there seemed to be no words to start the conversation.

After several moments passed, it was Steve who spoke first.

"Who’s still alive?” Steve asked, quietly.

Sam shrugged. “I hear that the Pyms are still around. I think they’re in another colony. Hank was here for a while but he heard a rumor about Jan being alive and I haven’t really heard about him since. Word gets around, although slowly, so I’d have heard if he was dead.”

Steve nodded, closing his eyes.

“Clint’s around. He never stays anywhere long. He comes and goes, carries things between colonies, he likes to chase off the zonbi.” Sam smirked.

“Of course he does.” Steve smiled.

“People are here and there. I don’t really hear much and I wasn’t interested in hearing about casualties. I know a few people died in the war.”

Steve shook his head slowly. “I’ll get a death toll later.”

Sam accepted that and they were quiet again. When the drink was finished, Steve stood and got back to work. He needed to think. He needed some time to clear his head. There were things he wanted to ask and know about but wasn’t sure he would be ready for the answers. Right now, his mind was too overloaded with the details of his new existence. The water plant, the fact that no one knew what was going on up there and that no one was making sure things were going on up there as planned, worried him.

“Why hasn’t anyone gone up there?” he finally blurted.

It wasn’t really directed to Sam, but Sam answered.

“Can’t get in, trip's dangerous, people are scared of what’s out there… take your pick. You were here when I killed that wolf, there is much worse out there.”

Steve sighed, taking in his surroundings, until a thought came to him. “Well, what if I went?”

Sam paused and looked up at him, holding a piece of metal in his hand.

“You really want to do that?”

Steve grinned. “I chose to face the Nazis. I chose to be Captain America. I think I can handle whatever’s out there.”

Sam couldn’t argue with that.

That night the two of them had dinner with Peter and MJ and she’d made a meal of something that came from a box. It was an instant meal, she’d told them, just add water, and they ate it without complaint the way soldiers eat rationed meals, as there were no other options. For a moment, as they talked over the meal Steve felt like things weren’t so bad. If he kept his mind on the conversation, one could almost forget that they were sitting on the remains of the world . It would take time but as long as he kept by these friends he’d found, he’d manage to adjust to this time too. But there was a slight nagging question he had to ask, even though he knew it might bring the mood of the room down.

“I need to ask one thing. I’ve been thinking of the best way to bring it up but I haven’t really…” Steve stopped, knowing how awkward the subject was going to be. “Where’s Stark?”

Silence filled the room like a thick fog as if Steve had just inadvertently spoken the word of the devil in a church.

Peter looked at his plate and didn’t really respond. Neither did MJ. For a moment he felt his heart clench. They had been enemies towards the end and if he had to be honest, he’d been pretty pissed to his grave. Despite everything though, Tony Stark had still been a close friend. By the reaction he got, it was very clear to him they were about to name his former friend as one of the casualties. After all, Tony had been the director of SHIELD and Peter had mentioned SHIELD’s efforts in the third war.

Sam broke the silence.

“It’s nothing but rumor, that Stark’s around,” his tone dripped the same contempt it always had for Tony. “If he is alive, then fuck him. He’s probably off in some ivory tower somewhere sheltered from what’s outside world. Let him stay there.”

Steve felt a bit annoyed by Sam's censure. Tony may have been a lot of things, but he’d never been the kind to ignore problems, at least not as long as Steve had known him. If he wasn’t trying to help, then he was likely incapable of doing so, which confirmed Tony Stark was dead.

“I heard that he'd been exposed to the radiation. I don’t know how badly. That’s all I know.” Peter chimed in, quietly.

“Good. He got what he deserved.” Sam spat.

Steve stopped the conversation with a raised hand. “Enough. I don’t think anyone deserves that, regardless of what they’ve done or haven’t done. I’m sorry I asked about Tony Stark. I won’t do it again. I just… keep seeing the Stark Industries logos and it hadn’t really crossed my mind because of how things ended between us.”

Peter swallowed before speaking. “I know you and he were... close. Even had some sort of bromance thing going on. Even though I thought he was a tool sometimes. But yeah, you're right if he's not helping it’s because he can’t. He could be in another colony. I don’t think he’s dead. I think he’s out there somewhere.”

Steve shook his head, taking a drink of his coke. “Forget it. Let’s change the subject. Alive or dead, it doesn’t matter.”

Sam was happy to oblige. The conversation quickly changed to the conversation they’d had earlier in the day. The colony was officially on alert about the use of water because they were running dangerously low. As yet, there was no source of income of new fresh water. If things weren't complicated enough, there wasn’t enough manpower to send out scouts to other colonies. Without water the colony would go under. Their resources were dwindling.

“I’m going to go to the hill tomorrow and find out what’s going on up there,” Steve declared. “Maybe I can help.”

“Steve that’s… not a great idea. You don’t know the terrain.” Sam's voice was harsh in its certainty.

“So I won’t go alone. You come with me. You know the area. You know what the colony needs better than I do. It’ll be like old times.” Steve gave him a small grin.

Sam shook his head. “I’m needed here.”

For a moment, Steve felt deflated. He wanted Sam to go with him, but he knew they couldn’t afford to lose the manpower. He wanted this to be like old times where he could say Avengers Assemble and they’d follow suit… and Jan and Hank would be there, Clint, Wanda, Vision… even Tony. But that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t their leader now. He was an outsider again; he was the new guy.

“I’ll go,” Peter piped up. “I’m not really considered man power around here unless they need the old web shooting and I could use the adventure. Besides, I have to admit, the Stark guns make it like a video game.”

Steve surreptitiously stole a look at MJ. Her frown and narrowed eyes, indicated her displeasure. However, when she saw the excitement on Peter’s face , her features softened considerably. Peter missed playing hero; she’d known that for a long time. The most action he’d seen close to being Spider-Man was showing off his powers to the kids in the colony, building webs for them to use as trampolines and slingshots.

Resigned, MJ let out a breath. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Peter grinned. “I always am, MJ. I’ll come back home safe and sound. Besides, I’ve got Captain America on my side. Nothing could go wrong.”

Steve laughed at Peter's good humor. “So tomorrow then, bright end early we’ll head up and see what’s going on at that water plant.”

“I’m there!”


Peter Parker was ready, willing and able to go the next morning, and sharply rapping at Steve's door.

When Steve opened the door there was Pete, bouncing back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet with an excitement that Steve couldn’t help but be amused by. It wasn’t like they did this every day. The survivors around here had spent most of the time confined in the colony for safety. He was not even sure what Peter was doing out and about when he’d run into Steve initially. He figured he’d ask about it later, maybe it would make for good conversation on their journey.

“So how long do you think we’ll be away?” Peter asked.

“Sam plotted it out for me the best way he could. He imagines it’ll take us about two days to get there, two days back. Of course, if everything goes smoothly.” Steve replied.

Peter was suitably dressed for the trek with a pair of light trousers with cargo pockets, a light tee shirt and a button up over it, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His feet covered by hiking boots, none of which appeared to be clean or spared from the stain of this new world. The one plus of this new world was that there had been accessible fabrics and clothing. Peter had explained that a warehouse near where he had been living remained untouched by the bomb blast had been filled with the essentials of a wardrobe, so they took it with them to the colony. Thankfully clothing wasn’t as scarce as food and water. Slung over Peter's shoulder, was a worn backpack, and a holster on his hip holding one of the heavy-duty rifles. He also had another more powerful looking weapon on his back. Steve smirked. He never thought he’d see the day where Peter Parker looked more like the Punisher than Spider-Man. But Peter couldn’t have looked more thrilled.

“MJ gave us some food and stuff. And we’ve got some bottled water.” he grinned.

Steve nodded and threw his gun over his shoulder, he then. Threw his own pack over his other shoulder and gave Peter a smile.

“Let’s go. We’ve got a journey ahead of us.” he said.

“Cap and Spidey’s Excellent Adventure!” Peter cheered.

Steve laughed. “What?”

Peter shook his head dismissively. “It was a movie…Bill and Ted’s Excellent… never mind, Cap.”

The two of them headed out the door and toward the gates of the colony with Peter bouncing a bit with each step. Peter still enjoyed adventuring and even it was just a couple days toward the water plant, it was a lot more action than sitting around the colony trying to figure out what to do with his life. They talked about various things as they headed toward the water plant. Peter talked a bit more about the war, about saving a little girl who had buried under the aftermath of an explosion and how he’d been there when New York fell.

“Actually… when I came out of the bomb shelter the first person I saw was Iron Man. Well, I saw Tony.” Peter said, quietly.

Steve wasn’t sure how to respond. Part of him felt relieved to have any information on Tony, but there was another part that still felt his blood surge when he heard the name. However, it was over now. A lot had happened between them and there had been no closure in the end. When he died he and Tony had still been on opposite sides. Probably none of the negative emotions would change if he saw him again, but by the same token, their feud was negated now. There was no registration. There were no heroes and no SHIELD.

Peter continued, “He saw me too. He asked if I was okay, and I told him I was, that I’d been in the shelter. He removed his faceplate then and he looked… pained. I think he’d been hurt. He told me he was glad I was all right and he was going to work. I haven’t seen him since.”

Steve stopped. “He was hurt?”

“The armor looked damaged. One of the rumors I’d heard was he was out in the world when the nuke hit New York. He was in his armor but I don’t know… I think that might have killed him.”

There was silence after that. Steve wasn’t sure how to handle that information. A different subject would probably be better but now his mind was on the well being of his former friend. Whether or not Stark was alive or if he was injured, if he’d become one of those things… Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“But hey… you know… never thought I’d get to say I live in AstroLand!” Peter could sense the atmosphere had gotten somber.

Steve chuckled. “I would have loved that as a kid.”

“Who wouldn’t have?”

They passed through another colony but it appeared abandoned; a few structures like the ones from Coney were unfinished and the entire area carried the aura of a deserted ghost town. Peter made a disgusted noise when he stepped over the body of a zonbi. Steve drew his gun to be sure that he was ready on the chance that there were more and not all of them were dead. Another one was lying beside the hollow building; around him were about 30 to 50 legos in varying colors. Peter come over and started to collect them up, putting them into his pockets. He kept half of them and gave the other half to Steve.

“Look you get what you can around here…” Peter said softly.

“I’m not judging.” came Steve’s reply.

Steve looked down at his handful of legos before shoving them in his pocket. He took a deep breath, peeking his head into the hovel of a home beside to his left, and then stepped back. He let out a strained noise of discomfort.

“What is it?” Peter readied his gun.

Steve shook his head. “No, nothing. Just don’t look in there.”

Peter (who looked rather unnatural with his gun like a child playing in his dad’s closet with a big bad toy rifle) looked in anyway. He jumped back, diverting his eyes before his stomach twisted. Inside was the aftermath of the zonbi attacking. A young woman, maybe MJ’s age, had her face shredded into a bloody mess but the rest of her remained intact. Peter didn’t have long to will his stomach not to protest, he lurched and vomited on the ground.

Steve rubbed Peter's back. “I did tell you not to look.”

“Curiosity killed the cat…or the spider, I guess.” Peter's voice was thin.

Come dark fall, camp was set and bags were lain out for sleeping. The dark was unnerving with the utter silence that surrounded them and there was nothing around for miles, the only light from a tiny tap light that ran on batteries. There weren’t many of those these days either, but considering they were travelling it was a resource they were forced to use. Peter was asleep rather quickly, the silence sliced through by the sound of his soft snoring. Steve remained awake, staring up at the pitch-black sky. Once there had been stars up there, beautiful and bright, a sign of something beyond this world. He wondered if any of the satellites remained up there. He recalled trying to name constellations and find the North Star, and how the city built up higher than he’d remembered hid the stars from few, dwarfed by the glow of man made neon signs and flashing signs of down town business and theaters.

His mind drifted again to the whereabouts of others, namely, Tony. If Tony was truly missing in action it was likely that he was seriously injured. The information Peter had shared, about seeing Iron Man after the atomic bomb hit New York City, about how when the faceplate was lifted, Tony looked like he was in pain… it was like a vice on his heart. He knew he still loved Tony. Feelings like that didn’t just disappear, no matter how much you willed them to. He hoped that Tony was alive and safe somewhere, maybe another colony. If he had died, he hoped that it had been quick and painless and that Tony’s last moments finally brought him peace.


A snarl startled Steve, and before he could shift out of the way, the blow on his shoulder knocked the wind from his lungs. It stung, but in the dark he couldn’t survey the damage done. Peter yelped from beside him, on his feet likely led by his spider-sense hinting him to the danger before Steve knew it was coming. Captain America grabbed his gun from the place where he’d rested it and aimed in the direction of his assailant's blow.

Steve fired out one of the blue blazing bolts at the sound of another snarl after hearing the swish of something moving through the air. It must not have hit because whatever it was pushed him backwards as he dodged another blow. He aimed again, firing his rifle into the darkness for a second time. This time he was met with a squeal of pain. Steve willed his body to still be on high alert, because he’d need the adrenaline if there were any more of them, whatever they were, waiting in the darkness to come at them again.

Peter pulled out a halogen lamp from the bag he’d packed and surveyed the area as one of the wolves came in a flying leap from the cover of black at his unprotected face and torso. Steve caught it mid-air with a blast from his rifle that left it in a whimpering heap on the ground. Not willing to take a chance on it recovering, he approached the beast and put another blast through the creature’s skull. Peter turned away with a flinch.

“Kinda brutal…” Peter whined.

“Unfortunately the choice was kill it or kill us. That’s the way it works, Pete. Battles don’t always have happy endings. You know that.”

Steve started to pack up his things and Peter stood for a breath and inhaled the air that was suddenly coming more freely to his deprived lungs. He turned to look at Steve, frowning slightly at his companion's grim expression, as he worked on getting their things ready to hit the road again as the cloudy sky appeared lighter with the rays of the sun beating on the back of its covering. He started to pack up his own things keeping the silence between them. Peter knew that Steve hadn’t slept and that the trek a head of them was still a long one. He figured it’d be best to be quiet for now.

Captain America had no injury from his tangle with the monsters.

They worked through the terrain again with chunks of dry earth scattering across the rubble ground as they kicked it up with their shoes. On a glance as light had reflected on the situation, the first attacker that had been killed was a zonbi. The sight of them still made Peter uneasy.

“You know… when I think about those zonbi things and how they could be people that we saw every day…” He reasoned as they walked. “I mean, what if that one we just killed was someone like JJ Jameson. Or Norman Osborn.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t want to think about that Pete. Even if it is one of the bad guys, no one deserves that.”

“But that could have been anyone there, that you just killed. Clint, he just goes out and hunts them, you know.”

Peter continued on as if he hadn’t heard Cap’s request for a subject change.

“I think Logan’s with him. Last I heard anyway.”

“Stop it. I said that I don’t want to consider the possibility that one of these things is someone I used to know… good guy, bad guy… anyone.”

Peter nodded and shut his mouth.

As the jaunt progressed, conversation between them became minimal, more to do with the desire to save energy, than anything else. They were running low on the reserve of water they’d brought with them and though they could see the building getting closer, the eyes tended to deceive when distance was involved. Peter occasionally would point something out that was of interest. A colony that had been disregarded to their left because a bomb had detonated. That was one Steve needed to know about, for no other reason than to avoid the radiation if he were to come upon it again.

As they approached the end of the road, at least a five-mile hike toward the top of the hill was the best Steve could estimate, there was a man sitting on the road in a heap. Rifle ready as they approached, the soldier’s first instinct was to be cautious with their advance.

At first the man looked like one of the zonbi’s but when his vacant eyes met Steve’s they appeared to register that he was meeting with someone who could comprehend his presence as more than just something to attack. His face was rotting away like an open wound, fresh with the infection that seemed to spread every exposed inch of his body. The likeness was akin to that of a burn victim, flesh raw and singed by the flames of radiation. His clothes were shreds and tatters hanging about his body in loose pieces that seemed to cover only the essential parts.

“Sirs… if you could spare some water for a dying man.” the man asked them.

Steve hesitated before looking the man over and reaching into his pack to remove one of the bottles MJ had given Peter. The man took the bottle from him with a look of scepticism.

“How much would you ask in return for this kindness?” the man questioned.

“Nothing. It’s yours. I only wish I could offer you more.” Steve replied.

“Sir. You are too kind. Thank you. Thank you.”

Steve snapped off a salute to the man before he headed up the rocky path toward the building at the top of the hill. Peter followed after him, jogging slightly to catch up with him.

“You know… we don’t have much water-” Peter began.

Steve smiled softly. “We are going to the water purification plant, aren’t we?”

After about three miles up they approached a rotting fence around the main yard of the building. It had probably been a school once before the war, as best the two of them could discern by the rusted and crumbling playground equipment that littered the side yard and the large staircase that led to the main doors.

Steve kicked in the fence, which folded as if it were made of paper. Stepping over it, he headed for the door, with Peter following behind, gun ready to fire at anything that came into their path. As they approached the door the sense of daunting quiet seemed to unnerve them more than it relaxed. Steve motioned Peter to one side of the door before readying his own rifle.

“On three.” he whispered.

Pete gave a nod.

“One.”

Pete readied the rifle.

“Two”

“Three.”

Steve kicked in the door and the two of them stood in the entry -way with guns ready for whatever came at them upon their intrusion.


The place was virtually empty.

A long corridor from the entrance led toward darkness. The building was in ruins as piping hung from the ceiling, broken rusted and exposed. Support beams had given way and left a crumbled mess of brick and cement for them to avoid in their path. The walls were molded over with the first hint of green that Steve had noticed since coming out into the world. From the darkness came a clinking sound, followed by the loud noise of metal hitting metal, a crash of tools, and a thud.

A resounding curse followed the crash, so loud and fierce that it echoed to the spot where they were. Peter’s first reaction was a shaky laugh, but Steve had his gun ready for whoever- or whatever had made that noise. He lowered down, gun before him and headed down the corridor, motioning over his shoulder for Peter to follow. Peter did follow, matching his movements to Steve’s, crouching down and reading the rifle for action.

“This is so cool… like a war movie…” Peter whispered.

Steve hushed him. The darkness hid his glare, but Peter didn’t need to see his face to know it was there. He shrunk back into the shadows and continued on behind Steve.

As they continued the dark seemed to disappear as light came in a slow creep toward them. Finally, the light was a bright beacon at the end of their hallway causing Steve to move in more toward the wall to keep them from being seen too soon. Peter followed. Their steps were quiet as they approached the wide opening where the light was coming from. Peter stopped in mid stride looking into the room with wide eyes.

Inside the room at the end of the corridor stood a large tank full of water. The tubes from the ocean were coming in through the wall, leading water into the tank and filling it up. Around it was metal scaffolding, industrial steps connected and it all seemed to be running through machinery in another tank. It was hooked up to a large industrial computer in the corner of the room. The light came from halogen lamps that hung around the room and had been very clearly disassembled and reworked so that they were much brighter than they were meant to be and sustained a longer charger. Another clanking sound seemed to come from the scaffolding around the tank.

The clinking silenced.

“If you haven't come back with their excuse for what passes as coffee these days, then you might as well turn back around and not come this way until you have some.”

Steve froze at the voice. Peter gave him a look. Could it be-? It wasn't, was it?

“Potts?”

They exchanged a glance.

“Great. I don’t fucking have time to be losing my mind.”

There was more clinking; this sounded more like running. Steve readied his gun. He’d learned that people here shot first and asked questions later pretty quickly and if Tony Stark had been expecting a zonbi or a mutant than he was going to come out with guns blazing. He leaned up against the wall, but Peter didn’t follow him. He stepped into the room. Steve grabbed at his sleeve to stop him but he wasn’t fast enough and in Peter went.

A bolt from a rifle hit the wall beside Peter’s head. He froze instantly and turned to see who’d fired it before raising his own gun. Steve came around the corner his gun ready to fire. No more bolts were fired, and the weapons were down almost instantly.

“I almost just killed you Peter! What the hell-!" Tony Stark yelled.

He halted his tirade when he locked his eyes on Steve; his gun clattered to the ground.

Before them stood Tony Stark, dark hair a mess of tangles on his head, greasy and dirty and completely neglected, pushed back from his forehead with a pair of workman’s goggles. His features were no different, blue-eyes standing out against the dirt and grease that caked his face and the dark beard that had grown over his jaw line. There was nothing but exhaustion written on his features. The war and the hefty weight of what had transpired on Tony’s end had aged him a bit more than other people Steve had seen. His eyes seemed filled to the brim with a haunted glaze of a man who had seen too much.

Steve and Peter had expected to see Stark looking worse for wear if they found him alive. They’d expected to find him exactly as they saw him - in a grease stained wife-beater and the torn jeans because these were things that he’d worn before the war.

However, there was a slight change to Stark's appearance. Tony’s left arm was gone - it had been replaced by one that looked more like Iron Man than Tony Stark; with smooth metal joints starting just after his shoulder and completing the arm’s structure. Some of the pieces appeared to be from the armor he’d worn as Iron Man, what with some of the wiring exposed, giving it an unfinished feel. Tony seemed to have complete control over it, be able to use it as a normal limb as if nothing had happened.

“The arm was a casualty. Wars have them.” Tony said evenly.

Peter immediately looked away.

“What is going on? How are you here?” Tony continued.

“We came from Coney Colony.” Steve responded curtly.

Tony scoffed. “That’s not what I mean.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t have an answer to that. I woke up in some sort of old building. It looked like a lab. There wasn’t anyone there so I left to find someone who could tell me what was going on.”

Peter remained quiet. Tony looked at Steve for a long time before taking in the sight of Peter. Then, his eyes flicked back to Steve. He seemed cautious and unsure, his logic outweighing his desire to accept that Captain America was alive and standing in front of him with Peter Parker. The wheels were very obviously turning in his head like a machine, calculating and processing, figuring how any of it was possible.

“I don’t know what Osborn’s people gave you before we found you,” Tony swallowed. “Whatever brought you back, SHIELD had nothing to do with it. Not that… well not that I’m mad about it.”

Steve gave him a nod. “How did…Osborn get a hold of me?”

Tony smirked. He watched Steve's eyes skipping around, trying to avoid looking directly at his metal arm. Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck with the bionic arm.

“That was probably my fault. We put you back in the ice and trusted Namor to protect your body. Guess that was a mistake.” Tony sounded rather sheepish.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “How did you get me back from Osborn then?”

“Look, my people found out that he had you for whatever reason and I just wanted you to rest in peace, Steve. I didn’t want you disturbed and apparently the choice I made was a mistake because you were anyway.” Tony’s voice broke as he defended himself. “So we went in, we took you out and brought you back to our labs. We were trying to figure out what happened to you, what they did when… well I ended up with my hands full.”

“World War Three.” Peter added.

“World War Three.” Tony confirmed.

Alarms sounded from the corner where the Stone Age computer blared flashing lights. Tony cursed and sprinted over to it, his attention changing completely to stopping the sounds and the flashing. Peter slowly followed for the sheer curiosity of what he had going on. He watched Stark push buttons and type in different combinations of codes, completely fascinated by the zone that Tony was in. It was almost as if neither of them were there, it was just Tony and the computer.

“What does this do?” Peter questioned.

Tony threw him an irritated glance. Obviously, questions and answers were not something he had in mind right now. He hadn’t planned for his two visitors, or any visitors at all. With a gruff sigh and a shake of his head he made a flippant gesture in the direction of the tanks.

“It’s supposed to be filtering the water from tank A to tank B… but the filter has been nothing but a pain in my ass…”

Steve watched the two containers. Between them was a large box like contraption. He assumed that was where the filter was being held. He didn’t dare bring up his interest in an answer; Tony’s vexation was clearly palpable. He noticed Tony watching Peter, seeming to size him up, blue eyes taking in almost every inch of the younger man with scrutiny. It was Tony's knowing smirk that gave away his intentions.

“Actually… Peter follow me…”

Away Tony jogged, toward the steps on the scaffolding. Peter gave Steve a shrug before following Tony's lead. The two of them ascended the metal staircase their shoes making a dissonant clang as they collided with the alloy beneath them. Tony stopped just in front of the black-boxed machine and glanced at Peter.

“You still have your webbing?”

Peter nodded.

“Think you’re up to playing grease monkey? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need the help.”

Spider-Man gave him a small smirk. “What do you need me to do, Mr. Stark?”

Within moments Peter was hanging upside down from the ceiling by a long chain of webbing, dangling delicately over the large rectangular structure. Tony propped his shoes into the rails around the landing of the staircase, leaning in as far as his body could reach without toppling over the side of it, which to Steve’s inspection appeared to be yet another one of Tony Stark’s stupid moves. If he slipped even slightly, the fall would likely be fatal.

“Okay, see the panel cover to your left?” Tony was pointing as he spoke.

“Yeah I see it!”

Steve stood with his arms crossed over his chest. There was an uneasy feeling in his stance, a taut edge in his arms and legs, eyes glued to the action before him. He was ready to pounce at any second, to catch either of them during the chance of disaster.

“Flip it open and check for me to see if the blue wire is in all the way. The power's off so you won’t get zapped or anything.”

Tony’s instructions were strained and urgent.

Pete lowered himself down a little more to flip open the panel. He looked into the hole and grabbed hold of the blue wire. He regarded Stark with a twist of his neck. There was a slight smirk on his lips, no matter how many times he witnessed it, people still looked funny upside down.

“Wire wasn’t in at all.” Peter called out.

Steve Rogers had seen the look many times on Tony Stark’s face. It was that single change in the crease in his forehead, the increase in the sparkle in his eyes and the small hint of a satisfied smile that played across his lips. It was the light-bulb face, the idea face, signal that the last piece of the puzzle in Tony’s idea had just fit into place.

“Peter, shut the panel and get down from there, I’m going to give this baby some juice!” Tony howled.

The AH-HA moment moved right into action as Tony descended the stairs and ran toward the computer. He punched in another few codes, before turning on the computer. It was anticlimactic. Peter approached Steve, the two of them eyeing Stark in the corner of the room where he stood with his hands on his hips staring at the computer as if he expected it to do something more interesting.

First it was churning. Water dropped from the box connection into the empty tank in trickled droplets slowly leaking down the side. A few minutes of the trickling before a rush of liquid came pouring out of the hole. Within seconds the vat had filled about a quarter of the way with water as it drained from the other and that one in turn filled up from the ocean. The three of them watched.

“It worked.” Tony's laughter was edgy with relief.

“What worked?” Peter inquired.

“I just saved the world.”

Steve chuckled at the complacent tone in Tony's voice. He knew him well enough to know that his smugness came from the sheer belief that he had in fact just saved the world. That was one thing that he had to admire about Tony; the man knew himself and was self-assured enough to tell you so. When he thought he was right it would take the world to convince him he was wrong and even then it was a crapshot if he thought conventional wisdom lied. It was a quality in the industrialist that the Steve had always admired and loathed equally.

“This is a water purification system. That black box is a filter,” Tony finally explained. “The water goes through that filter and the filter clears out all the impurities like lead, pollution of all kinds and even… wait for it… radiation… are cleared out of the water as it’s compressed and strained. Then it releases it out of the other end to the empty tank…”

“Purified water.” Steve finished.

Tony's grin was smug. “And that is why I’m a genius. If I weren’t an alcoholic I’d say we should go get a drink to celebrate.”

That surprised Steve. He felt himself tense at the comment.

“You’re still sober?”

There was another notch in the belt of admiration for Tony. A lesser man would have let the state of world shove him right back to the bottle. Resilient as ever even with the world falling apart and the Civil War where he’d lost friends and allies with one fail swoop he’d managed to keep his pledge.

“Can’t say it’s been easy. Surprised?” Tony remarked.

“No. I’m proud.” Steve answered.

Neither spoke. Tony tilted his head forward just a bit. Steve took that moment to finally approach the other man. He placed a hand on Tony’s right shoulder because he wasn’t quite ready for touching the mechanical counterpart. His blue eyes caught Steve’s but the shaken and battered gaze remained clouding them so they were almost gray. His eyebrows knitted as if all at once the weight of the life had been lifted off his shoulders for the brief moment when Steve’s fingers grazed the fabric.

“For what it’s worth Steve,” Tony’s voice was low. “I’m glad you're back.”

“Right. So we came to see what was going on up here. Coney is pretty much without pure clean water.” Peter interrupted.

Tony cleared his throat, giving Pete an irritated glare as Steve retracted his hand back to his side.

“The next phase of the plan is to do something involving pipelines at least to the local colonies. I have the plans for this system written down but if I do it alone, I’m going to take years. If I have help… we’re talking months.”

Steve smiled. “Well we’re here to help aren’t we?”

“And I’m sure the Colony can spare a few hands.” Peter interjected.

Tony nodded. “Then it’s settled. All we need are some willing hands and the colony should get water. Until it’s set up, if we can find some jugs to haul it back there… I’ve got a cart to make the transportation easier.”

“Where is it?” Peter asked.

“Third door on the left, down that hall.”

Pete followed Tony’s gesture and headed down the hallway to find the cart. Left alone an awkward fog seemed to consume the room between Tony and Steve. Tony gave Captain America a sideways smirk. With a better view to really soak him in, Steve was impressed to see Tony upright at all. He was far too thin, his cheeks a bit sunken and his body a bit less defined than it used to be.

“What happened to you?” Steve asked as his voice softened.

Tony looked at him. “I watched the world come down.