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After the Avengers’ Civil War, Stark Industries announced that the Iron Man technology would be simplified and designed for the mass markets, in the form of Iron Droids that anyone could purchase for an extremely low price. They could act as bodyguards, cleaning staff, manual labour, anything the customer wanted. They seemed as if they would usher in a utopia, an era of robotic labour and human intellectualism.
That was, of course, until the night that Droids killed about half of the top government officials worldwide, and played the same recording on loop for over thirteen hours, announcing over and over that all people were now members of the Stark World Order. And the following day, when the Rogue Avengers were executed on live stream, playing on every phone, computer, or television worldwide.
In an empty white room, the Iron Man landed in front of the Rogues, who were chained to chairs bolted onto the floor. His face-plate flipped up, and his face was that of a broken man.
“Hello, world. You know that I have seized control of the governments worldwide; your liberties rest in my hands. This is not something I do with glee, and I do not desire the burden of power.” Behind him, the Captain gave a derogatory snort, “I know that all I have done is awful. Every time I act, there are consequences. This will have massive repercussions to last generations. I know that if souls are real, mine is as damned as they get. However, I know this is the right thing to do, and someday people will understand that.” He raised a repulsor, aiming at the first one in line, Sergeant Barnes.
Before the Iron Man fired upon them, Captain Rogers spat out an unwise choice of last words. “You’re so egotistical, Tony. Executing us won’t solve anything. We’re your friends.” The suit opened up, and the man himself stepped out, deep purple bruises evident on his arms.
“Oh, we’re friends again, now that it’s convenient for you? This isn’t about our personal relationships. This is about all of you being dangers to the people you claim to protect.” The Iron Man turned back towards his suit, “JOCASTA? Fire on Barnes.” The suit wordlessly sent a repulsor blast toward the Winter Soldier, knocking him backwards within his restraints. Several more pulses were fired in quick succession, until blood was leaking out of the corner of his mouth, and a hole was blown clear through his sternum.
“Natasha?”
“This isn’t the right choice, Stark. You’re going to go down on the wrong side of history.”
“No, Natasha, I’m not. Because I’m saving the people from their own destructive tendencies. Besides, it's not like you're a moral authority. Just look at how often you've stabbed me in the back. Not even I deserved all of those. JOCASTA?” It only took two shots to blow Natasha’s unenhanced physique to bits.
“Clint? I’m not going to bother to try to listen to you attempt to bullshit your way out of this. You’re a loose cannon, a danger to everyone around you.” The AI running the suit knew a cue when it heard one, and with a single blast took Clint’s head off.
“Scott. This wasn’t your fault. You were just a gullible fanboy. Have fun living out the rest of your days.” The suit swiveled past, aiming towards the next in line, the Falcon.
“Sam. Loyal to a fault, but only to Cap over here. According to you, anyone else can go fuck themselves. That’s not exactly a superhero mentality.” This time, the repulsor shot flew through his throat, leaving blood spilling out of the shredded edges of his skin.
“Wanda, you always blamed me for your parents' death. That wasn’t my fault, but this is. You made Ultron, not me, and he killed thousands. And that was just one of your ‘accidents.’ Your death is by far the most justified.” The suit stepped forward, and in a show of power, lifted Wanda up by her throat, slowly choking the life out of her lungs. Steve growled before shouting out a protest.
“She’s just a kid, Tony!”
The Iron Man pivoted slowly, glaring at Steve. “Really, Rogers? Number one, you don’t get to call me Tony. You lost that right when I almost died at your hands. You lost it doubly so when I slowly froze to the brink of death. Second point? She’s twenty-six. Not a kid. Third, even if she were a kid, Ultron, Lagos, Johannesburg? Those are all her fault. Think of the blood on her hands. She’s not innocent.” Another suit swooped in, carrying the shield of Captain America. Once an iconic symbol of American patriotism, it now appeared battered and scratched. The new arrival handed the shield to the initial suit, which took it and marched in front of Captain Rogers. “I’ll admit it. While the execution of a dangerous terrorist benefits all, this particular method is just a bit of poetic justice. I was barely clinging to life, not even fighting, after you, my supposed friend, rammed this thing into me. This is what you have earned.” The suit lifted the shield up, and then smashed the edge into Rogers’ chest.
“How does it feel, Steve? Does your sternum ache? Can you feel your chest caving in? Are you struggling for air?” The shield continued to slam into the supersoldier's body with impressive force until it finally cleaved in two, the shield buried deep into the captain’s flesh. The Iron Man spun towards the camera, holding his left arm close to his chest, with a tired look in his eyes.
“Don’t cross me. Because I’m so done with all of this shit. If people can’t grow the fuck up and behave, I will make them. This will be better in the long run.”
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Over the next few months, a new worldwide system of governing and economics was established. Every city was assigned a few dozen Iron Droids, which ensured that people would continue working their former jobs. The Droids would also distribute supplies in order to fulfill the nutritional requirements of all of the people, and stomp down on crime with an iron foot. The public saw no more of Tony Stark, but the changes he made were easily visible in the authoritarian and contradictorily kind Stark World Order.
While the world wasn’t starving, and there were no more wars being fought, Dr. Strange quickly began to chafe at the oppression. So he decided that he too could change the world. Maybe even without taking it over. After that, it was a simple matter to use a clairvoyance spell to locate the man, who wound up being in the old Avengers Compound, which hadn’t changed, other than a giant burn mark where the Avengers’ logo once was. He opened a portal into the front entryway of the building and cautiously stepped through. As he walked down the empty hallways, he heard faint echoing music. When he finally reached the source, he saw a room with a piano, and sitting at that piano was none other than the Iron Man himself.
He was singing, accompanying himself on the piano, playing a song that Strange easily recognized as “Try to Remember,” from the musical The Fantasticks. Peeking through the cracked door, he saw tears glistening on Stark’s face. Confused, he stepped back from the door. This was a man who literally ruled the world, and yet he sat, crying on a piano whilst singing a song from thirty years ago. Awkwardly, Stephen left, still pondering the misery evident in Stark’s form.
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About a week after that, the Abomination managed to get out of wherever Ross had stashed him and felt the need to wreck a portion of New Jersey. Stephen portalled himself there, ready to fight when he saw that several Iron Droids were there, already restraining the creature. And for his first public appearance in months, the Iron Man flew behind it all, supervising. He tilted his head at Stephen, clearly curious as to who he was.
“Okay, then. There’s a wizard here now. JOCASTA, take him in.” One of the Droids peeled off of the flock that was guiding the Abomination into an electrostatic shock net and swooped Stephen up into the sky. He decided that this was more likely to answer his questions about the man inside the iron suit than any other option, and so stayed placidly within the arms of the Droid.
When they reached the compound, garage doors on the roof rumbled open and they landed within the building. Stark stepped out of his suit, marching towards a set of stairs, and the Droid continued to carry him, following Stark downward. The stairs seemed endless, until they eventually reached a basement, far underground, lined with cells, seemingly designed to hold people with similar skill sets to the Rogue Avengers. Also known as primarily brute force. While the cells obviously weren’t decadent, they seemed fairly nice as cells go, equipped with basic beds and an actual toilet.
The suit tossed Stephen onto the floor, somewhat roughly, and he rolled to his feet, wincing. The cell door clanged shut noisily.
Stark watched him curiously before speaking, “Gotta say, I’m curious about you.”
Stephen replied, “The name’s Doctor Stephen Strange. Former neurosurgeon, current Sorcerer Supreme.”
Stark’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Your sorcery hasn’t seemed particularly supreme. Having an off day?”
Stephen sighed, “You go supervillain, and you’re still cracking jokes.”
“Are you particularly surprised?” Stark’s eyebrow arched upward.
“No,” Stephen admitted.
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It slowly became a common thing for Tony to come and find Stephen, not for any particular reason, other than to talk. One day, Stephen was sat peacefully within his cell, reading a book, when Tony wandered in, pulling the door open and flopping on the bed next to Stephen.
Tony rubbed his temples distractedly, “Why are people so stupid?”
Stephen carefully marked his page, and set the book down, “What are they doing?”
“People keep fucking trying to murder one another. I had held onto a tiny hope that I was overly pessimistic about the state of the human race, but nope! They really are that awful.” Tony grumbled.
“They? Tony, you’re human too.” Stephen pointed out.
“Debatable. Used Extremis to get rid of the arc reactor, changed my genetics. Plus an entirely false sternum and a new arc reactor. I could potentially be classified as a new species.” Tony’s reply was slightly snarky and slightly resentful.
“Nah, evolution occurs on the species level, not the individual. You’re just a mutate.” Stephen opted for a sarcastic reply. The following pause stretched out for over a minute.
“It’s just… I want the world to be better. It just feels like I can’t trust people to behave on their own initiative.” Tony’s last comment was whispered, almost as if to himself, and Stephen’s heart ached in sympathy for the broken man.
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By the time that Stephen had been there a few weeks, security had gone from minimal to entirely gone. Unbelievably, the world’s latest conqueror trusted Stephen, despite having technically kidnapped him. He was allowed to go anywhere in the compound, including a variety of places that featured security hazards such as unlocked doors, windows, or any manner of other things. And of course, he could’ve left at any time, using the Sling Ring waiting in his pocket, but he was intrigued.
As Stephen wandered down the halls to the kitchen, in search of a sandwich, he ran into his captor-turned-maybe-friend? Tony looked frazzled, like he was at the end of his wits, and when he saw Stephen, his expression became one of utter befuddlement, which in turn confused Stephen.
“Why are you still here? I know you could leave. And you’ve probably just been pretending to like me to keep yourself safe and on my good side. But you could’ve left at any time in the last week or so, easily. I wouldn’t have come after you. Maybe you didn’t know that? You can go if you want. Did you think I would hurt you? I would never hurt you,” Tony rambled, a verbal river of insecurities crashing into Stephen.
“I’m okay with staying here, if you don’t mind,” Stephen replied calmly.
Tony seemed all the more perplexed by that statement. “But why? Even when I was trying to do the right thing, everyone left. Now, I’m not even pretending to be good. I actually took over the world, I’m a horrible person. Why the hell are you still here?” He seemed almost angry at the thought that Stephen might still accept, or even appreciate him. It was as if no one had ever before.
“Because I like you, and I know that you’re still trying to make the world a better place. You’re just using… slightly unorthodox methods.” Stephen’s reply was quiet and almost serene, the exact opposite of Tony’s incensed tone.
“What? Seriously! I’m the opposite of a good person! I’m the Merchant of Death. I SUCCEEDED at what Loki tried four years ago, and ‘freed’ people from freedom!” Tony’s volume grew to a yell. Even Stephen, a bit of a self-acknowledged emotional blockhead, could see the blame and guilt that he held within.
Stephen’s shell broke- just a bit- and his voice cracked as his volume slightly increased, “You’re trying to save people from themselves. That’s an admirable mission in and of itself.” The pain in Tony’s eyes was evident, and his shoulders shook from sobbing as he tossed his head side to side.
“Maybe it’s a good principal, but I’ve done it all wrong. There will be a generation to come that grows up knowing me as the devil incarnate.” At this point, he was openly crying, and tears were beginning to trickle down Stephen’s face.
“No, they won’t. They’ll grow up hearing about a man who so desperately wanted to do good that even when he was pushed incredibly far past his breaking point, he took over the world to try to save it. It’s okay, Tony.” He reached out and wrapped his arms around the sobbing man. “Yes, you’ve done terrible things but we have to be able to move on. It’s not like we can turn back the clock, undo all of this. Not all of it even needs to be undone. We might as well move forward, try to fix the world without ruling it. Because even the choices are wrong, people deserve to be able to choose.” Tony’s shaking arms reached forward and clung to Stephen, tears dampening Stephen’s tunic.