I'm late.
5300 words today, hope you enjoyed reading.
Peggy Carter's funeral was held on a cloudy day.
Outside the old church on the outskirts of London, a low, grey cloud hung over the treetops. Few people came; those closest to her in her later years were her former colleagues from S.H.I.E.L.D.., and her niece, Sharon Carter.
Steve stood in the front row, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his back ramrod straight from the beginning to the end of the ceremony. He neither cried nor spoke, only slightly bowing his head as the coffin was slowly lowered into the tomb.
Tony stood in the last row and didn't go forward. He hesitated for a long time before coming, but finally decided to attend.
They just felt that since they knew, they should come. Lynn and Natasha stood beside him, none of the three speaking, silently watching the back of the figure in the front row who never turned around. After the funeral, the crowd gradually dispersed, but Steve lingered at the grave for a few more minutes.
He gently placed a bouquet of white roses beside the tombstone, then turned and walked towards the car. He paused as he passed Tony. They looked at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Then Steve gently patted Tony's arm, a very light touch.
It was already the afternoon of the second day when they returned to New York. The corridors of the SSC headquarters were eerily quiet. When the agents on duty saw Steve walk in, they simply nodded slightly in greeting, and no one came forward to exchange pleasantries. Everyone knew that he had just returned from a funeral, and no one wanted to disturb him at this time.
The atmosphere in the meeting room was completely different from the argument a few days ago. No one questioned the other anymore.
Steve still believes that regulation will tie everyone's hands, but he also admits that unchecked power has indeed caused too much harm to ordinary people.
Tony still believes that someone must keep these superpowered individuals in check, but he also admits that giving politicians complete control over the choice is equally dangerous.
They hadn't convinced each other, but at least they no longer considered each other enemies. Sam sat by the window, occasionally chiming in, still firmly on Steve's side, but much quieter than a few days ago. James Rhodes stood beside Tony, looking exhausted, and said nothing more.
The Vienna Conference commenced as scheduled on the morning of the third day. The area outside the United Nations Office in Vienna was packed with reporters, their flashes creating a white curtain on the sidewalk. Natasha represented the SSC at the conference, with Lynn, Tony, and Steve seated behind her. This was the SSC's first official appearance on the international stage since its founding, and everyone's attire was considerably more formal than usual.
The meeting lasted nearly five hours. Natasha and the other two remained unyielding at the negotiating table, proposing amendments to the seventeen articles of the draft agreement and arguing their points point by point. The final version changed "the monitoring team must approve all actions in advance" to "advance notification should be given when conditions permit," and allowed for the submission of action descriptions to the monitoring team afterward in emergency situations.
From any perspective, this was a compromise where both sides took a step back. When Natasha and the others brought the agreement back to headquarters, they looked somewhat tired. She told everyone that this was the best condition she could get; at least it wouldn't be defined as illegal in an emergency.
No one signed immediately. Tony said he needed to think about it more carefully, so he had JARVIS make a full copy, marking any possible ambiguities, and then sent the final draft to every member of the SSC. As required by the United Nations, all members had to submit a written response indicating whether they would sign within two days.
The next morning, Tony received an email from JARVIS, sent by the Joint Group of 117 Nations. The email was politely but coldly worded, essentially stating that before the agreement was signed, all SSC members were prohibited from taking any action in any form; any violation would be considered a blatant provocation against the spirit of the agreement, and the United Nations would have to reassess it.
"They've already started restricting us." Tony projected the email onto the conference room's large screen, then leaned back in his chair, his expression a mix of anger and helplessness. Steve read the email and remained silent for a long time.
The next morning, all SSC members gathered in the conference room again. This time there were no arguments, no table-banging. In front of each person was a printed agreement confirmation form, with Natasha having marked the key points in red pen.
"I disagree with signing," Steve said calmly. "The core of this agreement is flawed. It places all the constraints on us, but there's no clause specifying when the oversight team must react. If they delay approval, and disaster strikes, the blame will still fall on us."
He paused, then looked around at everyone. "But I won't stop anyone from signing. It's a personal choice. If you think it's appropriate, then sign. I won't leave because of this."
Tony looked him in the eyes, remained silent for a moment, and then said, "To be honest, I want to sign."
He continued, "I looked at all the casualty figures, at the details of the families shattered after the Lagos bombing. I do feel we need to be controlled, we need external constraints. But I also looked at the agreements, spent the whole night on them. I can't convince myself that handing over the choices to a group of people sitting in an office would be faster and more reliable than doing it ourselves."
Steve didn't speak, but just glanced at him and nodded slightly.
The others then expressed their opinions. Banner refused to sign; he couldn't even fully control when he would become the Hulk, let alone let a group of bureaucrats decide when he should. Ivan also refused to sign, for an even simpler reason. "I don't trust any political organization."
JARVIS said he couldn't make a subjective judgment, but he advised everyone to carefully read the vague wording of Article 17, Section 4 of the agreement before making a decision. Natasha concluded by saying that she believed the agreement itself had merit, but the risk of signing it at this stage was too high.
A moment of silence fell over the conference room, everyone's gaze shifting back and forth between Tony and Steve. The afterglow of their recent statements still lingered on everyone's faces; Sam's brow remained furrowed, and James Rhodes ' lips were still pressed into a thin line.
"I'll reiterate my position." Tony leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. "I agree to sign. Not because I trust those people sitting in the office, but because I don't trust ourselves. I've been reviewing the Lagos bombing every day, going over it over and over again. I've tried blaming everything on the accident, on insufficient intelligence, on those lunatics. But I've found I can't. If we had had some external constraints, some operational procedures and contingency plans, Wanda wouldn't have acted so hastily, and those people might not have died."
He looked up at Steve. "I'm not saying we should give up the initiative. Natasha has secured the post-emergency reporting clause, which is the best we can get right now. If we don't even accept this, people outside won't think we're sticking to our principles; they'll just think we're refusing to communicate."
Steve listened quietly until Tony finished speaking before he spoke.
"I understand everything you're saying. I've seen the same images, the same numbers. I can't refute the facts you've stated; indeed, unchecked power can cause harm. Lagos is a fact, South Korea is a fact, and New York is a fact."
He paused, then looked at Tony. "But have you considered that the right choice should be made based on conscience, not by being constrained by a potentially corrupt or inefficient system?"
He stood up and walked to the window, his back to everyone, looking at the New York skyline. "I'm not against being monitored. I'm against being controlled. The core logic of this agreement isn't monitoring, it's control! Controlling our actions, controlling our judgment, controlling our right to ask for permission before we see a crisis. We have power, so we can't make mistakes. I understand. But if you give the choice to a group of people who don't need to be on the scene of an explosion, they won't do any better than us."
Silence fell over the meeting room again. Tony didn't argue, and Steve didn't continue. They both knew the other wasn't being unreasonable, but that was precisely the hardest part of the problem—both were right, both knew the other was right, but two sets of "rightness" combined just couldn't bring them together.
Lynn leaned against the window, remaining silent. He looked at Tony's tense jaw, then at Steve's shoulder with his back to everyone, and sighed softly.
"Since neither of us can convince the other, why not compromise?" he said calmly, as if discussing what to have for lunch the next day. "Let's retire."
Everyone turned to look at him.
"Since you don't want to surrender or compromise, let's try a different strategy."
Lynn pulled his hand out of his pocket, walked to the conference table, picked up the agreement, and flipped through a couple of pages. "I've read this agreement. The restrictions are indeed too great. Pre-approval, oversight panel review... the core of your argument is actually just one thing."
"The question is whether we can still decide for ourselves when to rescue people, and whether we should give that power to those politicians. My opinion is to accept oversight, but not regulation. We can report every operation to the United Nations, publish all operational records, accept post-operation review, and even wear recording devices. That's all fine. But regulation is unacceptable. Regulation means handing over the decision-making power to others, letting them judge for us what crises warrant intervention and when we should stand by. We cannot relinquish this power. Not because we are smarter than them, but because no one can have a clearer understanding of the situation than those on the ground."
Lynn put the agreement back on the table. "So since this agreement now ties oversight and regulation together, and the restrictions are indeed too great, then let's not sign it. Not signing doesn't mean we're going against the United Nations. We can do as they say: we can all publicly announce our retirement, suspend all operations, and withdraw all our power to keep an eye on ourselves. That way, they won't have to worry about us being unrestrained. When the crisis becomes so big that we can't do without them, they will come to us. At that time, it won't be us begging them for authority, but them needing us to step in. Then we can sit down and renegotiate the details of the agreement. By then, we will have the upper hand."
He shrugged. "Since they don't like it, I won't play along. We're not in a hurry anyway."
Tony was silent for a moment, then laughed. He was amused by Lynn's thought process of "calling retirement a tactic." Steve turned to look at Lynn, his eyes showing no dissatisfaction, only a sense of relief.
After everyone adopted the suggestion, Tony stood up and had JARVIS contact all the major media outlets, saying that SSC would hold a public briefing at Stark Industries headquarters.
On the day of the briefing, the hall was packed with reporters. Tony, dressed in a dark gray suit, stood on the stage, his hands resting on the edge of the podium. Facing the cameras and the dense barrage of flashes from the audience, he didn't read from any prepared script, nor did he spout nonsense as he used to. He simply spoke calmly and clearly.
"From today onwards, all members of SSC will suspend all proactive actions. This is because previous negotiations failed to reach an agreement. From now on, all members of SSC will not appear anywhere as heroes or superpowered individuals. This is our commitment."
Tony looked at the crowd below, paused, and continued, "We have no intention of interfering in the internal affairs of any country, nor will we participate in conflicts privately in any form. If, someday in the future, the United Nations mechanisms are mature enough to ensure the legitimate rights and interests of the responding parties and to ensure that disagreements do not arise due to procedural issues, we are willing to return to the negotiating table."
His gaze swept over the cameras in the audience, "Because the United Nations restricted our actions until an agreement was reached, we chose to retire before that!"
The entire room erupted in commotion. Flashbulbs popped everywhere as reporters eagerly raised their hands to ask questions, creating a cacophony of voices.
Tony didn't answer any questions, but simply nodded slightly to the audience before turning and leaving the stage.
Steve stood in the shadows backstage, watching Tony walk down. As they passed each other, Steve murmured, "Well said." Tony paused, but didn't turn around.
Three days after the press conference, JARVIS intercepted a piece of intelligence in the early morning. The source of the intelligence was suspicious, and the wording was vague, but the gist was that a large-scale terrorist attack was about to occur, possibly targeting a major Europe city.
JARVIS spent three hours tracing the source and discovered that the message originated from an internal server of a United Nations permanent agency, and the sender had a very high level of privilege.
After reading the intelligence, Steve immediately changed into his combat suit, but was stopped by Tony in the corridor.
You can't go!
Tony stood before him, not in his armor, but his tone was colder than ever. "We just announced our retirement in front of the whole world. Your departure now is like slapping yourself in the face in front of everyone! It will give those who have been looking for excuses to control us the perfect pretext."
"If there is a terrorist attack--"
"If there is a terrorist attack, that's United Nations matter. They have counter-terrorism forces, intelligence networks, and emergency response mechanisms. We are not a fire brigade. We just said on camera that we will not act without authorization."
So I'll just stand here and watch?
"Yes. Stand here and watch. I've already had JARVIS report this to the United Nations. We don't need anything now, and we can't do anything."
Steve gripped his shield tightly, his knuckles turning white. He walked past Tony without a word, his shoulder brushing against Tony's. Tony didn't move aside.
Just then, Lynn walked over from the other end of the corridor. He glanced at Steve's combat suit, then at Tony's tense face, before leaning against the wall and speaking calmly, "I know you really want to rush out right now. I probably would too."
"But you need to think about one thing clearly. This intelligence came at too much of a time. We just announced our retirement, and then the news came. The source is suspicious, the wording is vague, but it's so serious that you can't ignore it."
Steve stopped in his tracks.
What if this is a trap?
Lynn looked at him. "If you lead the team now and they catch you red-handed, the United Nations's reaction will be more severe than you think. They can pin all the charges of violating international law on each and every one of you, and then the SSC will be completely finished. Understand?"
Steve didn't speak. He stood in the middle of the corridor, his dark blue combat suit appearing particularly somber under the cold white light. His hand was still gripping the edge of the shield, not letting go, but he didn't move forward either.
"A dubious intelligence source doesn't mean an attack won't happen. If someone is indeed planning it, choosing to wait now is gambling with lives."
He looked up at Lynn and Tony. "I can't stand idly by!"
He turned and walked back, not because he had figured it out, but because he knew Lynn was right. He walked down the corridor, put the shield back in the lounge, then sat on the bed, took off his combat uniform, and changed back into civilian clothes.
He stared out the window for a long time, then whispered, "I hope you're right."
The intelligence hadn't disappeared. Two days later, JARVIS intercepted a second message from the same source, this time more specific. Multiple devices were planned to detonate simultaneously during peak hours in central London, targeting public transport hubs.
Steve didn't go for the shield again. He just stood with the others in front of the large screen in the SSC command center, watching the United Nations counter-terrorism forces begin their operation. Everyone was watching the London street scene on the screen, watching the dense crowds and congested intersections, watching the ordinary people who didn't know there were bombs buried beneath their feet.
As the timer reached its final minute, the counter-terrorism forces finally pinpointed the explosive device's exact location. Six devices were simultaneously dismantled, leaving only one remaining.
As the countdown reached midnight, a muffled explosion was heard on screen, the camera shook violently, and thick smoke billowed from a subway station entrance, rushing into the street. The data on the screen flickered twice before returning to normal.
The casualty figures reached SSC headquarters the following day. They weren't as high as expected, but they were enough to silence everyone.
Lynn walked to the window and looked at the New York night view. He was silent for a long time before speaking.
"This is a trap. The explosion wasn't nearly as big as the news suggested. Next time, there will be a more sophisticated trap, forcing us to break the rules, forcing us to break our promises, forcing us to become hypocrites in front of the whole world. There might be a second time, a third time, until we can't sit still any longer."
He turned around and looked at everyone.
This isn't over. This is just a prelude.
No one spoke in the conference room. Outside the window, the lights of New York spread out quietly in the night, and the lights of barges on the Hudson River moved slowly in the distance. Steve stood in the corner, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was fixed on the still number on the screen, and he remained silent for a long time.
Then he pushed open the door to the lounge and left. He simply walked out quietly and gently closed the door behind him.
The corridor was empty; no one followed. They all knew he wasn't angry.
He was simply enduring—enduring something he was worst at in his life—standing idly by.