This is the sixth and final chapter of this story! Please let me know if you have any specific story requests. I love writing the Avengers, and will be happy to try out some ideas. Thank you for reading all the way through this fic. You rock!

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Today was the day.

Tony's eyes snapped open and he rolled out of bed like a kid on Christmas morning.

First, we set the bait.

He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and shuffled out into the shared kitchen in his flannel pants and ratty old black t-shirt. Pepper found it endlessly amusing that he had practically bottomless resources and still chose to sleep in what she described as "homeless man attire."

Tony strode into the kitchen toward the coffee pot with single-minded intent. Coffee first, then the rest of the day could fall into place. When he was content with a steaming mug of blessed caffeine, he made his way to the kitchen table. Steam rose from four other mugs of morning caffeine, Steve and Natasha both took their coffee black, Clint's was filled with absurd amounts of sugar and creamer, and Bruce had a tea bag label draped over the side of his mug. Tony shuddered at the thought that it might be herbal.

Steve had folded over the morning paper to read a story about—Tony looked over his shoulder and followed his line of sight—some new park development. Huge, patriotic Captain America was an artist at heart. Tony was sure that Steve was already mentally planning to go sketch in the new park.

Tony dropped into an empty seat with a long, drawn-out sigh. Natasha glanced up at him without moving her head. That was only a touch creepy.

"What do you want, Stark?" She said.

"Want?" Tony asked innocently. "All I want is to sit here in the company of friends and drink my coffee."

He managed to look affronted that she would even ask such a question as he raised the mug to his lips.

Steve shook the newspaper to unfold it and glanced at Tony suspiciously.

"That's far too wholesome for you, Stark," he said. "You usually have something up your sleeve."

Clint paled and looked down at his drink. "Did you poison me again?"

Tony furrowed his brows to keep from grinning. "Your definition of poison is very different from mine. All it did was put you to sleep so I could attach fairy wings to your suit. Stop being ridiculous."

Clint pushed his drink away, eying Tony closely. Steve protested as Tony leaned across the table to shove Clint's drink back toward him.

"Relax, Hawkass," Tony drawled, "It's safe for consumption."

Clint continued to glare at him from over the rim of his mug.

Bruce sighed and mentally prepared himself to enter the conversation. "Really Tony, what's going on? You're giving off ridiculous amounts of pent-up energy right now."

"And you're usually not even awake yet," Steve added, sipping his coffee.

Tony reached out and tapped Steve's mug, sloshing coffee into the Super Soldier's face. "You know caffeine probably does nothing for you, right? With your increased metabolism and enhancements, you burn right thought it."

Steve's brows pulled together in irritation as he wiped hot coffee from his face, but his expression quickly morphed to offended.

"Leave his coffee alone," Natasha said, rolling her lips over her teeth to stifle a laugh. "We all know it's a habit for him. Besides, most grandpas drink coffee with their morning paper."

Steve picked up his newspaper and flung it at her face half-heartedly. Natasha lazily ducked the projectile without a glance.

Bruce gave a long-suffering sigh and rose to pick up the newspaper.

"How's about we go spar?" Tony blurted out.

Clint laughed and sipped his coffee. "Are you looking to get your ass kicked again?"

"You dislocated my shoulder, you asshole." Tony growled. "Maybe you could show a little remorse."

Clint smiled and shrugged.

"There you go," Tony muttered, leering at the archer. "Keep drinking the safe coffee."

Clint looked a little queasy and pushed it away again. Tony smiled inwardly. That coffee was perfectly ordinary, but Clint didn't need to know that.

"I'm up for some training," Steve said, standing to take his dishes to the sink. "I already checked off my run, so I'm warmed up."

Natasha stretched like a cat and rose smoothly. "I'll come too. There are some new sequences I want to practice."

Bruce gathered his tea, a look of resignation on his face. "You know I can't spar with you, but I should probably be there for when Tony gets hurt."

"Hey," Tony protested, "not when."

"Sorry, if."

Clint grinned and poured what was left of his coffee down the drain. "Let's get to it."

Second, we lure them in.

They reconvened in the training room nearly forty-five minutes later.

Everyone but Bruce was dressed in workout clothes, and the scientist stood along the wall in jeans and a rumpled button-down shirt. He held a fresh, steaming cup of peppermint tea. Tony had caught a whiff of it earlier.

Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Clint all warmed up separately, stretching and readying themselves.

In the corner, Tony jogged easily on a treadmill and silently went through his secret weapons. The good thing about being a genius was that failure literally led to endless hours dwelling on how to be better. Being a billionaire meant that Tony could generally bring his thoughts to life.

On his left and right wrists, he wore small metal bracelets. They fit snuggly against his wrists, nearly invisible under the long-sleeve black shirt he wore. The shirt itself was part of the arsenal. Woven into the reinforced fabric, a force-field hovered just above his skin. The field was designed to absorb energy and transfer that energy to the bracelets. The bracelets powered the field that would surround his hand when he swung. Basically, he would be protected from any hits to his torso and arms, and could use the pent-up energy to come back swinging. He innocently swung his left fist through the air, grinning when he saw the faint light of the field flare to life.

He wore a black rubber ring on his right hand. It looked fairly innocent at first—second, and third—glance, but it was packed full of a specially-designed neurotoxin. It wouldn't do any actual harm, but it would slow the reflexes considerably for four to five minutes. Tony had tested it on himself.

The small device adhered to his left palm was nearly invisible because of its coloring. Tony had built it to match his skin tone exactly, imitating the lines and irregularities of his palm. It was a taser built specifically for the god of thunder. Thor hadn't been at breakfast, but Tony knew he was nearby. He has asked JARVIS to invite the Asgardian if he showed up in time.

He slowed the treadmill to a walk, then stopped the belt and hopped off. He strode over to the training area and pulled one leg back to stretch out his quads.

Third, we pounce.

When Tony first dove into a sequence with Steve, he left his gadgets off. He bobbed and dodged, returning strikes when he could. As things started to speed up, Tony tapped his right wrist against his hip and felt the bracelets power up. Maybe Steve noticed the slight flare in the arc reactor as it powered the tech, but Tony doubted it.

The Super Soldier's eyes grew wide as Tony started to hit harder. To compensate, Steve's blows began to land harder, giving Tony even more reserve to slam into Steve. As Tony landed a particularly hard blow to Steve's ribcage, the bigger man groaned and staggered back, coughing reflexively to draw in air.

Natasha pulled Steve back to the bench, handing him some ice. "Rest up for a minute, Super Soldier," she said. "I'll tap in."

She watched Tony warily, knowing that something was going on.

"How did you do that, Stark?" she asked, eyes never straying from his.

"Now, now, Natasha," Tony teased, "you're the one who's always saying I have something up my sleeve. Nothing a trained assassin can't handle, I'm sure."

Goaded into engaging, Natasha flung herself at Tony with a little growl.

She swept his ankles out from under him with little trouble. Tony landed with a grunt, pleased to see that the shirt had absorbed some of the fall. He grabbed at her wrists she lashed out. He only maintained his grip for a moment, but it was long enough for the ring to do its job. He took a beating as he waited for the neurotoxin to kick in, but soon enough Natasha's moves were slow and easy to dodge.

He saw the confusion in her eyes, so he winked at her and sidestepped another blow.

"What the hell, Stark?" Clint said, anger evident in his tone. His water bottle dangled loosely in his left hand, all focus directed at the pair on the mat.

He dropped the bottle and rushed to Natasha, helping her to the bench to sit down. "Nat, are you okay?"

He spoke tenderly, truly concerned about her. She smiled at him, her movements slow and clumsy. "I'm fine," she said. "Go kick his ass."

The neurotoxin had just been introduced to Clint's system when Thor strode into the training room.

"Good morning, friends," he practically bellowed. "The kind servant informed me that my presence was requested."

"Hey Thor," Tony said. "You're up next, big guy."

With that, Tony shoved Clint toward the bench, watching him take a seat between Natasha and Steve. Steve was still sitting a little crooked, but he was on the way to healing. Natasha was finally beginning to move normally, and Clint was staring down at his own hands as if they had betrayed him.

"You have already bested the Captain, the Widow, and the Hawk?" Thor asked, looking at Tony in astonishment.

"That's right, Point Break," Tony grinned, making a "come on" gesture to the Asgardian. "Show me what you've got."

Thor twirled Mjolnir once in his hand before placing the hammer on the ground and joining Tony on the mat. Thor may appear air-headed occasionally, but he knew that clobbering Tony with Mjolnir would be bad for the billionaire's health.

As Thor moved in to throw a fist, Tony gripped the god's forearm with his left hand and let the taser fly. It had taken some modifications to ensure that the energy didn't shock both parties, but Tony was confident with his tech. The shock laid the Asgardian out on his back, eyes wide in shock.

Thor blinked up at the ceiling before breaking into a roaring laugh. Bruce joined him from his place leaning against the wall. He had put his tea down so that he could clap. Tony took a bow. Thor took the hand that Tony offered him, clapping him on the back hard enough to make Tony grunt.

Despite the damn field, he thought.

With rueful smiles, Natasha, Clint, and Steve watched as Tony rolled up his sleeves and explained the tech.

With a little planning, Tony was strong. With some time to prepare, Tony was deadly. Being Iron Man was never about being enhanced or perfectly trained, it was about being ready for anything. Tony Stark was a force to be reckoned with.

Their pride might have taken a hit, but his teammates would be just fine. Tony grinned as he led the way to the elevator. This time he had brought his advantage into the ring, and damn had it felt good.