So, Avengers fanfic! rated T for swearing and other nuggets to come later :)

Also please note that I'm not a genius like Stark, so the technology stuff isn't accurate. (Just made tit sound more Tony-ish if you know what I mean :)

"Care to get started, Tony?" Steve snickered, filing through and shuffling another mound of paperwork onto his lap. He was tired, his eyelids drooping slightly, but it was all too silent in the room and someone had to keep up the good cheer. Unfortunately, ever the masochist, Steve took that duty on himself. He didn't mind it, and he smiled faintly when Tony shot him the middle finger.

"Fury's gonna get this goddamn paperwork when I'm ready and not a goddamn minute sooner." Tony muttered under his breath, refilling his coffee mug for the umpteenth time. The team was all gathered on his favorite floor of Stark Tower, thrown all over the place like used dish rags.

Clint was perched on the arm of the sofa, Natasha precariously curled beside him like a cat, both of them tending to their own heaping piles of paperwork. It had become a sort of ritual, really, ever since the big battle went down across New York. Fury had allowed them just a few short hours of recovery (and shwarma) before the paperwork came in by the helicopter-full-literally –and none of them had a scrap of energy left, unable to move themselves any further than the tower. The group had collapsed when they reached the practically destroyed room, and there they stayed until every last wretched paper had been signed, sealed, and begrudgingly delivered.

Now, four battles, three minor squabbles, and half dozen reluctant clean-up jobs later they had stuck to tradition, relaxing together as they worked their hands to the bone.

"Why are you even here?" Tony demanded, casting a glance at Banner as he gracefully slumped back down onto the couch, mug in one hand and pen in the other, "You finished your paperwork hours ago and now you're just doodling-" Stark leaned over across the cushions- "Teapots and scientific formulas." The Doctor shifted his position slightly from where was sitting on the end of the crescent shaped arrangement, arms crossed over his chest and one hand resting thoughtfully on his cheek as he watched the team absently.

"Nothing better to do, really." He replied casually. Clint snorted, setting aside the stack he had finished in favor of the next.

"I could think of a few things." He answered sourly. Tony snickered to himself, wondering how many of those things included Natasha and, as though she could read his mind, she cast a venomous glare at the billionaire. He winked, grinning and taking a sip of coffee.

"It's not so bad," Steve replied, ever the optimist, "At least we're in good company."

"Well, that's true seeing as I'm here." Tony shot back.

"Not what I meant." Steve sighed, moving on with the next piece of paper work. So many questions that they all seemed to blur together and there were only so many ways he could explain what had happened. Apparently, rewriting the same story eleven times could wear you out.

"Oh, you love me." Tony muttered with his championship smile. The pen was still clutched in his hand, and in the three hours he'd been "Working" it had hardly been put to paper. Might as well slack off entirely, he decided, leaning forward and setting his mug and the lonely unused pen aside. He much preferred to have his hands on a tablet anyway, so he dug one of the hundreds he had lying around out from his bag and leaned back on the cushions cheerfully.

"Seriously, Stark?" Steve demanded, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Problem?"

"Yes." But that was all he said before returning to his work. Clint stifled a chuckle but Bruce seemed to side with Steve, shaking his head. Tony shrugged and tapped away, checking everything from stocks to TV scheduling for the week.

"Sir," JARVIS chimed suddenly, his polite voice bringing a silent curiosity over the group, "There appears to be an anomaly in the system." Tony was on his feet in a flash, tablet in hand as he made his way to a small station in the corner.

"Pinpoint." He commanded, his fingers flying across the surface of the tablet. All eyes were on Tony's back as he clattered around and suddenly a transparent screen was thrown up into thin air, files and ERRORnotices hovering all over the place. Clint actually ducked as some of the stray warnings shot up overhead. The billionaire tossed the tablet aside and began waving his hands around, flittering them about frantically.

"Virus suspension file V2-6978." JARVIS quipped, motors humming audibly. That was definitely not good.

"Stark," Steve demanded, moving to approach him, his paperwork forgotten on the couch, "What's happening?"

"There's a threat neutralizing JARVIS' servers and dismantling our pre-rec firewalls."

"Yeah, speak English, please."

"JARVIS is getting hacked."

"That's not possible," Natasha murmured, "It can't be. You're Tony Stark."

"Yet here we are." Tony snapped angrily, "JARVIS run program Hat Trick 42."

"I'm sorry, Sir. It appears that counter software is no longer functional." Tony cursed under his breath.

"Throw up a damage scale." He commanded. An alarmingly ERROR filled popup exploded around the team, different types of coding and signals floating through the air.

"Not good." Banner whispered. Tony hadn't noticed the Doctor standing beside him until he spoke, eyes wide on the transparent display.

"Definitely not good." How could the best damn security system in the world be in the middle of a full blown attack and meltdown? He swore again.

"Sir, it appears that-" JARVIS was cut off by an earsplitting screech of static that had the team clutching their ears in pain, ducking down reflexively.

"What the hell, Tony!" Clint shouted, wincing as, gradually, the sound dulled down to silence.

"JARVIS?" Tony called. No answer. He glanced around but the screen was still hovering before him, flashing insistently. Tony narrowed his eyes at it, realizing that something was buried under all the ERROR messages, struggling to get free. JARVIS? He thought hopefully, waving the unneeded things aside to reveal-

"What the…" He whispered. It was a video file, expanding on it's own to take over the entire screen, a dark scene unfolding before them as they stood huddled around it. The others struggled a moment to discern what exactly it was they were seeing, but Tony knew instantly, a cold jolt rocking through him.

"Turn it off." He demanded, hoping JARVIS was still in there somewhere as he staggered a step forward, "Turn it off!" But it was too late and the tape had already been rooted into the system, and with a soft ping it began to play.

The camera view was shaky as it settled clumsily on a face, battered and bruised, one black eye swollen shut, a dribble of dried blood matted into his hair. It was peculiar, and for a moment Tony didn't recognize his own face on the screen.

"Tony…" Steve whispered, as though he were hypnotized by whatever was playing. Tony knew what this was, he had lived it. And he didn't care to live it again, but God, it was too late. The video was a poison to him, dragging him back to a place he didn't want to be, back to the person he never wanted to be ever again. Back to the person he was in Afghanistan.

"Hold him down." Yinsen commanded, his voice oddly electronic as it came from the speakers all around them. The view the camera gave was clear enough that you could see the sweat glimmering on his cheeks as he moved for a better angle on Tony's chest. His lips moved as he whispered an apologetic prayer and then Tony was screaming, writhing in agony and fighting futilely against his captors grip, the sound of an electric saw whizzing in the background. And, oh God, the screams and unrelenting torture of metal against bone…

"Stark." Someone was calling him from far away now, "Tony!" He recoiled from the hand that found it's way onto his shoulder, his eyes snapping free at last.

Confused hurt flashed across Steve's face for but an instant before it was smoothed over again, settling easily into his leader face.

"Shut it down, Stark." He ordered, eyes flicking over to where the team was still huddled around the horrific scene. Clint was ignoring the show, meeting Tony's eyes for a heartbeat before shifting his gaze to Natasha.

She had removed herself from the group and was standing in the corner, leaning against the wall, arms crossed defensively over her chest. Her expression was carefully blank as she stared straight ahead at the video-still playing, the sounds of animalistic torture crushing through the air. Clint moved to stand closer to her and she unconsciously shifted so that their arms were touching, her eyes never straying from their target.

It wasn't them Tony was worried about, though. Bruce was standing alone in the middle of the room now, watching in silence, his jaw clenched tightly. His hands were balled into fists and he was literally shaking with rage, his nails biting into the flesh of his palm. In an instant Tony had the tablet back in his hands, working with a newer more desperate effort, praying that this room wouldn't end up broken yet again. If the Hulk came out now….He shook the thought away, vaguely aware of Steve cautiously approaching the Doctor and murmuring something along the lines of calm down…

"Bird Brain, I need my bag." Tony snapped, one hand still racing over the smooth surface of his machine and the other shooting out expectantly. The strap landed in his palm and he dropped it down, rummaging around until he emerged with a double sided USB plug which he hastily used to hook his tablet up to the Tower system.

"Online, Sir." JARVIS' voice declared after a tense moment of silence.

"Shut it down." Tony ordered, "Now."

So? Thoughts, comments? Please review! Reviews encourage me to write more!