Tony Stark's anger and hurt vanished in an instant, replaced by guilt, helplessness, embarrassment, and confusion.
Bucky had killed his parents as a Hydra weapon. So what did that make Tony, whose weapons had killed someone else's parents?
Tony slowly lowered his head, burying his face in the crook of his battered armor's arm, amid the ruins still smoking and spitting sparks.
His shoulders trembled slightly. A muffled groan forced its way up from deep in his chest.
Steve stood in the middle of the street. At last, his grip on his shield loosened completely.
He looked at Tony, his lips moving, but said nothing. Instead, he turned his gaze to Wanda and Pietro, then to Yongye.
A storm of complicated emotions churned in his eyes, but all that came out was a low grunt.
Bucky rose from behind the wrecked truck, his metal arm hanging at his side, its silver palm reflecting the cold streetlight.
He glanced at Steve, then at Wanda, before turning into the shadows of an alley and quickly disappearing.
Pietro and Wanda exchanged a look. They saw the same feeling in each other's eyes: satisfaction!
They had finally gotten the justice they wanted!
Their idea of revenge had never been to kill Tony Stark. It was to declare, openly and beyond dispute... that he was guilty!
Wanda turned her head toward the remains of Tony's armor, half-buried in the rubble. A dark red glimmer flickered in her light brown eyes, then slowly faded.
She turned and walked toward the row of still-smoking shops on the corner. Pietro followed half a step behind her, his short silver hair stirring in the evening breeze.
Their figures receded into the dusk and soon disappeared into the neon-lit, fire-streaked night of Lower Manhattan.
Behind them, on the cratered ruins