"-ark, Mr. Stark? Are you ok?!"

The words whispered to my consciousness, drifting lazily through my head, my head... What was under my head? It felt cold and hard...

I shot up from my lying position.

Howard was going to find me, I broke into his office, I wasn't allowed in this office.

"Mr. Stark?!" A frantic voice came through a black rectangular object next to me.

What was going on- my memories came back in a rush , Percy was half god, Peter might be in danger, I was charged with the murder of a man, and Howard...

Howard had killed demigods, at least 20 of them based on the amount, and variety of blood  in the room. My dad had re-created the most powerful weapon in history, but at the cost of tens of demigods. I groaned, burying my head in my hands, my tired eyes itching as they rubbed against my hands.

"I'm going to call 911, Mr. Stark. Please don't get mad at me." Peter's voice rang from the phone once more, sounding about three seconds away from a breakdown.

"That is not necessary." I signed into the phone as I picked it up, carefully getting to my feet despite the protests of my joints. How come I can create machines to save the world, but not one to save my aching knees?

"Mr.Stark! You're alive! What happened, should I call an ambulance, or-"

I hung up on Peter. I had bigger things to worry about than stressed out teenagers. Howard had used people's blood in the serum. My head started to spin, but I fought the urge to sit down. I had to get to the bottom of this, I needed to get to my lab. I forced my feet to move forward, the sound of my steps quietly being drowned out by my thoughts.

If I could get some of Percy's blood then I could run some tests. I could find a synthetic replica of B. O. G., and Howard's findings were correct, earth would be saved. With an army of super soldiers, the Chitari would've crumbled at our feet the second they entered our atmosphere. There would've been no casualties.

Swept them up in my thoughts I entered my lab, beelining to a spinny chair and sitting down, calmed by the familiar scents of grease and oil. Brushing off bolts and wires, I pulled up a hologram of the formulas written in Howard's journal.

"Whatcha working on?" Clint's voice came from my left. I resisted the urge to quickly shut down the blue hologram in front of me. To hide all the evidence, but that would only make me look more suspicious. I highly doubted Barton knew any formulas besides H2O, and that was pushing it.

"You're tired of the kids already?" I drawled, spinning around in my chair to face Barton, trying to discreetly cover up the large B. O. G. In red letters behind me. "I thought you'd be back shoveling cow poop by now."

As I looked at him I noticed something about Clint's posture seemed off. He gave me a slight grin when you noticed me looking at him. His blonde hair was messy as always, But there were deep bags under his eyes that I hadn't noticed in the meeting before.

"And miss the excitement over here? Never. You didn't answer my question before."

"Hmmm. What was that again?" I said, feigning ignorance while surreptitiously flipping through a couple other projects on the hologram, landing on one about a more effective solar panel. I had a feeling that Barton saw B. O. G. though.

"What are you working on?"

I waved a hand through the air.

"Old projects, just dusty unfinished ones."

If Clint had any suspicions he gave no sign of it.

"Did you figure out what B. O. G. meant?"

Yeah, he definitely saw the hologram.

"It's just an ingredient in something that could change the world."

"Just don't create another Ultron." Clint said. The tone was joking, but as his tired eyes flicked around the lab, I realized what I found weird about him before. His feet were flat on the ground, and he was leaning slightly forward in his chair, different from his normal laid back posture.

He's ready to bolt, I realized with a sting of betrayal, no not bolt, fight me. After everything I've done for the team they still didn't trust me.

"So the team sent you down to make sure I hadn't turned into Dr. Frankenstein," The words are meant to come out as a joke, but they were harsh and bitter, yet I didn't stop the words as my voice continued to rise. "Mad old Tony is going to create evil robots to destroy the world.

"All of this because of one accident years ago, that I'm not even all to blame for. Remember the other half of the creation of Ultron? Little innocent Bruce ? Oh wait, no, you don't remember him because you pasted all the blame on me when he groveled for forgiveness the second something went wrong."

"That accident killed people, Tony."

"And you know what killed more people? The Chitari invasion. In fact, the only reason the world survived is because some idiot decided to nuke Manhattan," I spat out. "We barely survive that, and other planets know that, Asgard knows it, the Chitari who did die fighting us know it, whoever was leading the Chitauri knows it. How long till another planet decides it wants Earth's abundant resources."

"So creating a killer robot was your solution to this?"

"One man with some pointy sticks wasn't going to cover it."

"Good thing I'm not just one man." Clint spoke almost earnestly, and with his words a sour taste filled my mouth. I got to my feet, storming over to Clint.

"This is the reason why I am always to blame. You and everyone of those dimwits out there believe that 'friendship is magic' and as a team you can do anything."

I stabbed my finger into his chest, pushing him back against his chair. Clint tensed but made no move to stop me.

"Something is coming, and we are not going to be enough to stop it. You might not have the guts to do it, but I will do anything to stop more innocent people from dying."

Throughout my speech Clint stayed still, but at my last sentence he stood up, taking a step away from my finger, eyes hardening.

"Be careful Tony," Clint's voice was low and dangerous, but there held no malice behind it, only what seemed to be warning. "I don't want you to get hurt, but Natasha will have no hesitation doing what she thinks is right."

Clint's eyes bore into me and I held his gaze, refusing to back down. Clint turned on his heels and walked out of the lab, footsteps making no sound on the concrete flooring. As the lab doors clicked behind him I turned back to my hologram, pulling back up the formula. After all,

What did Barton know?