Gathering

The sky was clear, white clouds drifting lazily.

Washington.

S.H.I.E.L.D.

Triskelion Building.

Agent Phil Coulson stood in a corner behind the railings of the plaza, dressed in a fitted black suit. The sun shone on his face from afar, warming even his scalp. He raised his head, put on his sunglasses, and stared directly at the sun with narrowed eyes. In his distant gaze, he gradually spotted a black dot appearing before it.

The black dot drew closer and closer, quickly allowing Phil Coulson to make out its full form.

It was a red-and-gold suit of armor, smoothly fitted to the human body while retaining the hard, crisp texture of metal. Any teenager who saw it would cry out, "Cool!"

The armor had no jet flames. It relied entirely on He-El's Gravitational Magnetic Levitation System, carrying the weight of machinery with lightness and moving even more nimbly than a fish in water. Its legs slipped into the viewing area beside the plaza railing, and it swooped down beside Phil Coulson.

"Where's He-El, Agent Coulson?" The red-and-gold armor landed steadily, its faceplate lifting to reveal Tony Stark's face. He swept his gaze around and found only Agent Coulson present. Tony Stark could not help growing suspicious as he said bluntly,

"Agent Coulson, did your director actually trick me into coming to the Triskelion Building? There isn't any world war at all, is there?

You want me to keep modifying more weapons for you? No. Let me make this clear first: modifying the Helicarrier's turbine balancing system was already enough to repay the favor Fury did for me. I won't help you make any more weapons. You people are a violent organization!"

Tony Stark had never been one for politeness. He glanced around at this violent organization—the grand, brightly lit Triskelion Building,