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Dedicated to everyone who commented on the last chapter, you really keep me motivated. Thank you

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"So, Johnny." He dragged the name, twirling a pen between his calloused, oil-stained fingers.

William had pushed himself up carefully, feeling highly on edge in the spacious room. Although it looked harmless with a lot of open space and enormous windows, his instincts kept telling him to tread carefully. He was excellent at disappearing, but he also didn't want to be blown up by being stupid. Sure his healing abilities were better than most humans', but even he couldn't stitch his blown-up pieces back together. 

He didn't blink as he stared at the man, waiting for him to continue. He was aware that the pants he was wearing were covered in blood and stained with grass, his bare feet were caked with mud and his overall appearance was not a friendly or respectable one. But when had it ever been.  

Tony stopped twirling the pen and looked up at him, ready to activate every security protocol he had installed into the house with all of that free time.

But before he did that, he wanted to ask a few questions himself. He was curious but also so very bored. Sure raising llamas and a daughter was hard work, but this reeked of a mission.

Besides, he had a hunch it had something to do with the Avengers and he liked to know things before they did.

"Had a rough night? Snuck out of your girlfriends bedroom window and daddy dearest pulled out that well-cleaned shotgun?" 

William pushed down the urge to scoff, shotguns were slow. Though powerful, they were out of date.

"No." He also didn't have a girlfriend.

“Boyfriend?”

William just stared at him.

Tony rolled his eyes "Please don't tell me you don't speak Sarcasm." William was not familiar with that type of interrogation. He wasn't being threatened just yet, nor was he being tortured. Neither was that man trying to intimidate him. The tiny cuffs binding his hands together did look fragile, but the nearly silent humming told him otherwise.

He measured the distance between them. If he acted quickly enough, he could force the man down and break his neck. He looked harmless, but William knew better to judge someone by the way they looked.

"Well? Who are you working for? Because there is absolutely nothing on you on the web, and the damage on your body looks like someone who's been fighting in Iraq for a long time. Now, you better start talking because I have a feeling you'd rather talk to little old me and not the big asses all the way up in Manhattan. And don't even try to break out of the handcuffs, they're made out of pure vibranium, one wrong step and they'll send you into cardiac arrest." 

The man was so at ease, making William even more anxious. If he had been bluffing, Will could have sensed it from miles away. Sliding his eyes over the room once again, he paid closer attention to all the tech that had been very cleverly hidden into the walls and ceiling. 

"But please, do test them out." 

Reluctantly, Will lowered his hands onto his lap, keeping eye contact. Tony looked almost disappointed at that.

Will remained quiet, trying to think of a fastest way out. Who was this man? He had heard of a Stark a long time ago, but this man wasn't that Stark.

“I was hoping for the fireworks to go off but next time then. So, let's start with that, who do you work for?”

Will nearly frowned at the question, obviously it looked as if he worked for someone, but this time Will was a free man who didn't have to listen to anyone telling him what to do, didn't have to kill people who didn't deserve it, he had no obligations. But telling the man he worked for no one would only raise suspicion, he had to be delicate about it.  As far as he knew, he hadn't yet called for backup, they were in the middle of nowhere and he was just protecting his home and child.

Only his luck to stumble upon a tech-crazy dad in the middle of nowhere.

Reluctantly, Will opened his mouth, choosing every word carefully but making sure his tone was strong and unwavering.

“I used to work for a government, cannot say which one. However, I retired recently and they aren't happy about it.”

That was the most he had spoken since waking up, and he already felt like he wanted a glass of water or two.

If he had still been with them, he would have already shifted, destroyed the house and dealt with broken bones and bloodied jaw later on.

But now, being alone he just wanted to do the right thing for once. He just hoped it wouldn't come biting him in the ass later on.

“are you saying there's a foreign intelligence skimming these parts?” the man was startled, instead of typing away in his device he was now looking Will straight in the eyes.

“not anymore.”

Tony didn't seem to believe him, but it didn't surprise William one bit. He was already scolding himself for opening his mouth, he should have just stayed quiet. But then Stark would have called someone and that would have made the escape difficult. Not impossible, never impossible. Just difficult.

“what about the dog? Doesn't seem like a service animal.”

As if Will knew the answer to that, hell, he didn't even know why hadn't he just continued the drive.

“A stray.”

He wasn't sure what made him open his mouth in the first place, maybe it was the open space, the smell of moss and wood that thrifted in from the open windows or the fact that the room wasn't swarmed by heavy backup. Either way, the man seemed just curious if anything.

And if answering a few measly questions would mean he would lower his guard, he would answer them.

“So, you're a part of a foreign intelligence, probably Russian. You are running from them because you've had enough of whatever it is you folks are doing, you can't be older than 21, maybe 24, I'm terrible at guessing ages. On top of that, you have a weird habit of running around barefooted and ripping off your shirts, you're probably, most definitely, suffering from PTSD and you're carrying a random stray with you for no apparent reason.”

Williams breath hitched as he forced himself to stare at Tony, stone-faced.

He really didn't want to kill that man.

“Its dandy, really. How young were you when they started training you? That scarrying look years old, and you're not even in your thirties yet.”

He just dove right into it, no warning. William tensed up, refusing to say anything at all.

“So, last question. Fake-John, what the hell is going on with your blood? Took some samples and they are most definitely inhuman. Unless I mixed them up with the dog blood, but I doubt that. So? What are you?”

“That's Theodore Ashmore, he gained the name Swamp Fox in the army for his sneaking abilities. Born in July 15th, 1915. Declared missing in action in 1945, just before the War ended.”

Clint explained, pointing at the black and white photo of the man with strong jawline, straight nose and cold, dead eyes that seemed to have been staring somewhere behind the photographer. As if he had wanted to be anywhere else but there.

Natasha studied the man, making sure to reread his files later on.

“Jack Hoare, died as a prisoner in one of the camps in Hesse, Stalag IX-B. Before death he gained the title of a Captain after their former... Former Officer named Michael Carter had died in battle. You don't think it's the one connected to Steve's Peggy? I mean there are thousands of Carters, just seems like an odd coincident.”

Sam asked, looking up from the files. Clint was already typing away in his tablet as Natasha inched closer. “Could be, this one must be Carter then.” she pointed out, placing her finger on one of the copied photos.

They had copied everything, making sure they had backup files as well. Since the inside of the box was filled with old and fragile things, they made sure to take extra care of the evidence. As they had immediately spotted a picture of a handsome young Johnathan Lawford, Natasha immediately knew this box had belonged to Mr. Lawford.

“Bingo, that's Michael Carter, brother of Margaret Elizabeth Carter. Michael Carter got critically injured by shrapnel and died shortly after.” Clint announced with a sour voice, sending the files to a shared folder.

Although Natasha saw the cold and far-away look in Sam's eyes, she pretended not to notice. War-related cases were not Sam's favourite, but he never complained.

“Carter never had a wife, so he had no children who could possibly start chasing his legacy. There's also a chance of an unnamed bastard child, which was not uncommon taken the time. What do we have about the other ones?” Natasha took a seat beside Sam, crossing her arms.

“Elliot Mayer, died in 1946, was found hanged in his own bedroom. Supposedly had turned to heavy liquor and that had led to suicide. Before that, he had married the pastors daughter Annalise Spellman just two months before committing suicide. The woman remarried a year later. However, Mayer did have five siblings, three brothers and two sisters. I'll see what I can find about them.” Clint announced, going back to typing away in his tablet.

Natasha studied the picture of the curly-haired man, admiring his kind face that stared back at her.

“Looks like Lawford was really the only one who managed to survive. Unfortunately, even his twin Isaac Lawford went missing in action in 1944. And that's all, Lawford was sent home where he didn't spend much time before taking off again. He supposedly traveled through France and Germany alone until a woman joined him. Over the years his sight worsened until he went completely blind. It doesn't say what he was doing in Germany and France.” Sam said, turning to look at Natasha.

“Sounds like he went back to search for something or someone. But the question is who? Aren't there any other names popping up?” Natasha asked, looking through all of the pictures again to make sure nothing went unnoticed.

“No, that's about it. There's a little about Mayer family tree and Lawfords sister, but nothing suspicious.” Natasha nodded as Clint lowered his tablet, leaning back and nursing his cup of hot coffee.

“Should we tell Steve about the call? I mean, seems like Lawford was one of the last Vets.” Sam asked as he skimmed through the reports again.

“Not just Steve, we need the radio and news to announce it as well.” Clint looked up at her, disbelief written all over his tired face.

“Nat-”

“Trust me, I don't like it either but there's obviously some sort of connection between Lawford and our target, and you saw what he turned into. We can't let a huge furry man run loose, especially if we know nothing about him, where he got his abilities or what he's planning.”

There was a brief pause before Natasha continued.

“We have nothing but the footage from helicarrier and fingerprints from the car that got no leads. Announcing that will be dirty, but even with this box, we have gained nothing on our target.”

Sam was obviously agitated at Natasha, but remained quiet as he glared at the reports. She stood up, collecting the papers.

“I'll get to the journals, see what I can find.”

Clint nodded goodbye before burying himself into old articles and Sam just pretended not to have heard.

A/N

I'm struggling with this book a lot right now, I love it, don't get me wrong, but I am running on 0 ideas how to get past that block.

All help is needed, all ideas are welcome.

I had a feeling the tony-interrogation thing went too fast but let's think about it for a moment.

It's TONY STARK, a GENIUS tony stark. He knows his games and his mind is outta this world smart. You think Fury or Clint would have gotten answers out of Will like that? Too threatening, Tony on the other hand...

Anyways, hope you enjoyed, I'm just struggling to find the right way Will would communicate with everyone.

But at least another update is out, hope you enjoyed!

Until next time,
Author x