Fury, You're Not Worthy

"I need a sample. A complete one, or at least a large enough piece of wreckage to scan at the molecular level and analyze its energy spectrum with the most precise instruments in a lab."

Reed Richards looked up at the others, his expression serious. "Only then might we find a resonant frequency, an energy weakness, or an inherent structural flaw in the Demon Engines. If we limit ourselves to the battlefield, we're far too reactive."

Tony Stark pressed his lips together, at a loss for words. He did not argue.

Because Reed Richards was right.

Even in his latest Mark 44 Armor, armed with an array of heavy weapons, Tony had felt helpless against the Demon Engines, forced to defend on too many fronts at once.

His attacks usually caused only temporary damage. The Demon Engines recovered at astonishing speed, or simply changed shape and kept attacking in ways that were even harder to handle.

"All right." Tony Stark rubbed his brow, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

Since Captain America's death, Tony had said little about it, but he had been trying to shoulder the responsibility of leadership that Captain America had once carried.

A capable leader had to give everyone a way forward as quickly as possible when a crisis struck. So he said gravely, "Listen, everyone. Right now, we have to—"

Before he could lay out their next move, Friday's voice sounded through the cabin. "Boss, Director Nick Fury is calling. Based on a preliminary analysis of his voice, he doesn't seem to be in a good mood."

The atmosphere in the cabin tightened.

Everyone exchanged quick glances. They were tired, irritated, and helpless, with a trace of resignation: what was coming had always been bound to come.

Tony Stark curled his lip and put his