The atmosphere in the room was tense, the weight of the conversation palpable. The Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross, stood at the head of the table. His gaze swept over the Avengers—Rhodey, Natasha, Steve, Tony, Sam, Vision, Wanda—and lingered just a second longer on Eve Rogers, whose expression already hinted at irritation.

Ross cleared his throat, launching into his speech.

"Five years ago, I had a heart attack," he began, his tone heavy with self-importance. "I dropped right in the middle of my backswing. Turned out it was the best round of my life because, after thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something forty years in the Army had never taught me: perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives... but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word 'vigilantes.'"

Natasha's voice cut through the air, calm but edged with curiosity. "And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?"

Ross's lips thinned into a humorless smile. "How about 'dangerous'? What would you call a group of U.S.-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose? Who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?"

As Ross spoke, he activated the screen behind him. The room dimmed, and news footage from past missions began to play—a damning montage of destruction that followed in the Avengers' wake.

"New York," Ross said.

The screen flashed with images of the Chitauri invasion: leviathans tearing through the sky, buildings crumbling, terrified screams. Eve stiffened. Her fingers twitched as her eyes darkened, staring at the table as if trying to will herself somewhere else. Memories she had buried came rushing back—the explosions, the chaos, the moment she lost her parents. Her breathing quickened, and she clenched her fists under the table.

"Yeah, New York," she muttered, her voice tight.

Ross continued, oblivious. "Washington, D.C."

Footage of helicarriers firing on each other, the Triskelion falling, and citizens scrambling for safety filled the screen. Sam looked down, avoiding the images.

"Sokovia," Ross pressed.

The rising city, crumbling buildings, and fleeing citizens flickered across the screen. Wanda's face tightened with guilt, her eyes glassy as she stared at the devastation she couldn't erase. Tony's jaw clenched as he watched the memories of his own mistakes play out.

"Lagos."

The screen now showed a burning building, paramedics carrying a lifeless body from the rubble, and a girl lying in the debris. Eve's knuckles whitened as her hands clenched tighter. Wanda's lips trembled, her guilt threatening to consume her. Steve noticed her pain and stood abruptly.

"Okay, that's enough," he said firmly.

Ross nodded at an aide, and the screen went dark.

"For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution." Ross gestured toward a thick document an aide handed him. He slid it across the table to Wanda, who passed it to Rhodey.

"The Sokovia Accords," Ross continued. "Approved by 117 countries. It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

Steve's tone was calm but resolute. "The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we've done that."

Ross's gaze hardened. "Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?"

Steve met his eyes but said nothing.

"If I misplaced a couple of thirty-megaton nukes, you can bet there'd be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground."

Rhodey broke the silence. "So, there are contingencies."

Ross's expression didn't waver. "Three days from now, the U.N. meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "And if we come to a decision you don't like?"

Ross's response was blunt. "Then you retire."

The corners of Natasha's mouth twitched, but she said nothing. Eve, however, leaned forward, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're just itching to throw us all into the grave. Must've been a hit at parties, Ross. 'Here, sign this form to save the world, and make sure to clock out at the end of the day.'"

Ross's irritation flickered but he didn't back down. "If you want to remain active, you'll have to accept supervision."

Eve smirked mockingly. "Supervision? What are we, your kids? Do we get snack breaks while you lecture us?"

"Eve," Steve said quietly, but she ignored him.

"You know, I'm just thrilled that we saved the world all those times, and now... now we get this? A nice little reminder that we're all just ticking time bombs in your eyes. How sweet."

Ross's voice grew colder. "That's exactly the kind of attitude we're trying to—"

Eve cut him off, her tone darker now. "You think this is about attitude? Maybe you should focus on the mess-ups in your own backyard before you start painting us as the bad guys."

Ross's eyes narrowed. "You might want to think about what this means for your own future. You think New York wasn't a mess? You were right in the middle of that too."

Eve's face went blank, her sarcasm faltering. Her fists clenched, and her voice, now trembling slightly, dropped. "Don't go there."

Ross ignored the warning. "New York, Eve. You can't pretend—"

"Oh, we're going there, huh?" she snapped, her voice rising. "Let's throw that on the pile. Yeah, it was a great day. Really great, because that wasn't traumatizing or anything." Her tone dripped with venom.

The room was silent.

"You know," she said flatly, her voice breaking slightly, "I always love reliving the day my parents were killed." She shoved her chair back with a screech, slamming her hands on the table. "Don't you dare talk about New York like you know a damn thing about it."

Her anger melted into a mask of forced calm. With a slow, mocking smile, she added, "You know what? Screw this. I'm out."

She stormed out, her footsteps echoing, and as a parting gesture, she raised her middle finger without looking back. The door slammed shut, leaving a stunned silence.

Ross watched her leave, his face impassive. "The anger is exactly why we need the Accords," he said coldly.

[ 𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔 ] Sorry if you're offended by the middle finger. Eve is my favorite little sass machine.