Turning Point

The battlefield had settled, but the tension in the air remained thick. The remaining Avengers—Tony, Natasha, Clint, Spider-Man, Ant-Man, and Black Panther—gathered around the spot where Rhodey had nearly met his end.

Rhodey who stood on the ground, groaned. "Well, that was fun."

Tony who got beside him began running a quick scan. "You alright, buddy?"

"Been better," Rhodey admitted. "But I owe Peter one for the save."

Peter, standing a few steps away, simply nodded. "Just doing what any decent person would do."

Tony sighed and removed his helmet, rubbing his face in frustration. The battle had ended, but the war of ideologies still loomed.

Peter, however, had other concerns.

With a small smile, he turned toward Wanda. "You did well out there," he said softly. "I'm proud of you."

Wanda blinked, surprised by the praise. A slight blush crept onto her cheeks before she looked away with a shy smile. "I—I just did what I had to."

"Yeah?" Peter teased. "Then why is Pietro the one who keeps getting knocked out?"

Pietro, rubbing his head from where he had been downed twice, scowled. "You think you're funny, don't you?"

"Absolutely," Peter grinned.

The lightheartedness faded, though, as the reality of the situation set in. The battle was over, but the division within the Avengers remained. Steve and his team had escaped, but at what cost?

Clint crossed his arms, looking at Peter. "Not that I'm ungrateful, kid, but why did you step in? I thought you weren't picking a side."

Peter sighed, looking at them seriously. "Because you're all being idiots—letting yourselves be manipulated by forces you don't even see."

Tony, already irritated, scoffed. "Oh, here we go. You gonna lecture me now?"

Peter didn't flinch. "You think power without restraint is dangerous, right?"

"Because it is dangerous," Tony shot back. "Unchecked power leads to chaos, Peter. You can't just let superhumans run around doing whatever they want—"

"And power in the wrong hands leads to disaster," Peter interrupted sharply. "Tell me, Tony, do you really think you control the Accords? Because from where I'm standing, it sure looks like someone else is calling the shots."

Tony hesitated.

Peter waved his hand, and suddenly, a holographic projection flickered into existence in front of them. Images and reports played out in midair—footage from the Sokovia Accords hearing, the bombing, Zemo's involvement, and snippets of classified data regarding the Winter Soldier program.

The Avengers watched in stunned silence as Peter's projection detailed the conspiracy.

"The bombing wasn't Bucky's fault," Peter explained. "He was framed by Helmut Zemo, a Sokovian operative who lost his family during Ultron's attack. Zemo wanted to tear the Avengers apart from the inside—and he succeeded."

Black Panther stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. "You're saying this… Zemo is responsible for my father's death?"

Peter nodded. "Yes. He manipulated Bucky to trigger the Winter Soldier protocol, knowing it would lead to chaos. And you all played right into his hands."

Tony's eyes widened. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"The same place I get all my information," Peter replied casually. "By looking where nobody else does."

Natasha narrowed her eyes as she examined the projections. "So, what? You're saying all of this was planned?"

Peter nodded. "The Sokovia Accords were just a tool. Whoever's behind this wanted to split you apart, break the Avengers from the inside. And you all played right into their hands."

Tony clenched his jaw, his mind working furiously. He hated to admit it, but Peter had a point. He had been so focused on his own fears—on the consequences of unregulated power—that he hadn't stopped to question who was actually benefiting from all of this.

Beside him, Clint muttered, "Told you something smelled off about all this."

Black Panther had been silent throughout, but his gaze was fixed on the holographic images. His expression darkened as Peter manipulated the projection again, revealing the true culprit behind his father's murder.

T'Challa's hands curled into fists.

"Zemo," he said coldly.

Peter let the images fade and turned to face them. "So," he said, folding his arms. "Now that you actually know who the real enemy is… what are you gonna do about it?"

The Avengers hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances.

Tony ran a hand down his face. "I hate it when kids make good points," he muttered. Then, with a deep breath, he looked at T'Challa. "You good, man?"

The King of Wakanda exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "No," he admitted. "But I will be once this is finished."

Peter grinned. "That's the spirit."

He suddenly reached out and gently grabbed Wanda's wrist.

The gesture made everyone pause.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you doing?"

Peter smirked. "Taking my favorite witch on a field trip."

Wanda looked at him, confused but trusting. "To where?"

Peter's smirk widened. "To meet our dear culprit."

Before anyone could question further, Peter snapped his fingers.

A massive blue portal erupted around them, engulfing the entire group.

And in the blink of an eye—They vanished.

.....

The group reappeared inside a dimly lit underground laboratory. The metallic scent of old machinery and oil filled the air, the atmosphere heavy with an eerie silence.

Steve, Sam, and Bucky who should be on the jet also appeared here and after seeing the rest, they immediately went on high alert, their stances shifting defensively as they registered Tony, Natasha, Clint, T'Challa, and the others standing before them.

"What the hell—?" Sam started and his fists clenching.

"Calm down, bird-man," Peter said, raising a hand casually. "No need for another royal rumble. We're all on the same side now… mostly."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "What's going on here?"

Peter exhaled, "Long story short? We put the pieces together—finally. And now we're here to have a little chat with the man behind the curtain."

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room. "Well done," a voice drawled.

Zemo, standing near a control panel within a reinforced metallic enclosure, observed them with an unreadable expression. The glass barrier between him and the Avengers made it clear he had anticipated visitors—but not this many.

"I must admit," Zemo continued, tilting his head slightly, "I did not expect all of you to arrive together."

Wanda took a step forward, "You didn't account for a variable," she said coldly before glancing at Peter. "Him."

Zemo chuckled. "A fascinating variable indeed."

Peter smirked. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

The room fell into a tense silence. Steve's gaze hardened as he focused on Zemo. "It's over," he stated firmly. "You failed."

But Zemo didn't look worried. If anything, he seemed satisfied.

"Failed?" he echoed. "No, Captain. I succeeded the moment you all turned against each other. Look around you."

Steve's gaze hardened as he noticed something—glass containment pods, identical to the ones Bucky had described. But the bodies inside were motionless.

Sam took a step closer, frowning. "What the hell…"

The others followed his gaze.

Inside the chambers, five figures lay slumped, dressed in old Hydra tactical gear. The ice that had once kept them preserved had long melted away, revealing their lifeless forms. Each one had a bullet hole in their forehead, the blood long dried.

Steve turned toward Zemo, his voice cold. "You think you did the world a favor?"

Zemo met his gaze evenly. "I did what was necessary."

T'Challa stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "And what of your true plan?"

Zemo smirked slightly, then reached for the control panel. "Let me show you."

He pressed a button on the console beside him, and a screen flickered to life.

The footage began playing.

The moment it started, Tony froze.

Steve's eyes widened in horror.

It was that night. The Winter Soldier—Bucky—standing over a crashed car in the middle of a dark road. The windshield shattered. Blood splattered across the hood. And then—

The unmistakable faces of Howard and Maria Stark.

The video played in agonizing clarity—Howard gasping for air as the Soldier struck him again and again. Maria's muffled cries. The final, devastating blow that silenced them both.

Tony's breathing grew heavier. His hands curled into fists.

Steve swallowed hard. "Tony…"

Tony turned sharply to him, his expression unreadable. "Did you know?" His voice was calm, too calm—like the calm before a hurricane.

Steve hesitated. "Tony, I—"

"Did. You. Know?"

A long silence.

Then—"Yes."

That was all it took.

Tony lunged.

His fist connected with Steve's face, sending him stumbling backward. Steve barely had time to recover before Tony followed up with another punch.

"Tony, stop!" Natasha called out.

The others started to move—

—only for Peter to freeze them in place with a casual wave of his hand.

Everyone suddenly found themselves completely immobile, unable to even speak.

Peter sighed. "Let him get some steam out first, guys. He kinda deserves it."

Steve struggled to his feet, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "I didn't tell you because I knew how you'd react."

"How considerate," Tony spat before throwing another punch.

Steve blocked this time, but the force behind Tony's strike pushed him back. "It wasn't Bucky's fault!" he argued. "He was brainwashed, Tony!"

"I don't care!"

Tony's repulsors charged up—

—but before he could fire, Bucky tackled him.

The real fight began.

Bucky threw a powerful punch with his metal arm, but Tony caught it mid-air.

Tony muttered darkly. "You killed my mom."

With a burst of strength, Tony twisted Bucky's metal arm, sending a sharp metallic crack echoing through the room. Bucky grunted, but countered with a knee to Tony's ribs, forcing him back.

Tony recovered quickly, his suit recalibrating, and he launched a concussive blast at Bucky's chest. The impact sent Bucky skidding across the floor.

"You stay down," Tony warned after seeing Steve coming back up.

Steve ignored him, pushing himself up. "Can't do that."

But he is also frozen by Peter. Now, Bucky slowly got up and lunged again, but Tony was faster. He anticipated Bucky's movements this time as Friday analysed his patterns.

He grabbed Bucky mid-swing, twisted his arm at an unnatural angle, and with a final, brutal strike—

—tore the metal arm clean off.

Bucky collapsed to the ground as the prosthetic limb had been severed.

Tony stood over him and his breath heavy.

But he wasn't done.

He dropped onto Bucky, pinning him down, and began punching—again and again.

Metal clashed against flesh. Bucky's head snapped back with every impact.

Steve struggled against Peter's telekinesis. "Peter, stop him!"

Peter's expression remained impassive. "Not yet."

Tony lifted his hand, his repulsor charging up—aiming directly at Bucky's face.

"No more second chances," Tony muttered.

Before he could fire—

"Be very careful of your choice now, Mr. Stark." Tony flinched at the voice.

Peter's voice was calm, almost casual, but the weight behind it made the room still. "If you kill him, you cross a line that can't be undone," Peter continued. "And trust me, things will start changing in ways you won't like. I've killed many people before and they all deserve it. But ask yourself the question, does he deserve it."

Tony hesitated.

Peter took a step forward, "You think this will bring you peace to you? You think this will fix what happened?"

Tony's repulsor hummed louder. His breathing was erratic. His anger was consuming him, drowning out reason.

But Peter's next words cut through the haze. "You're not a killer, Tony."

A long silence.

Then—

Tony's repulsor dimmed.

He let out a shaky breath and collapsed backward, pulling away from Bucky's unconscious form.

The fight was over.

....

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