Chapter Text
The ground is cold. It's freezing. It seeps up slow through his armor and settles deep and sharp inside him like knives made of ice. It doesn't help that the wind bites at his face and the soft fall of snowflakes feel like slaps against his skin. His skin that bleeds, and is bruised, and God he cannot breathe are his ribs broken?
His suit's reactor is splintered through and dull, his suit is barely functioning, barely allowing him to lean over on his elbow. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is offline and for one of the many few times, he feels helpless in his suit.
It's been about half an hour since self-righteous Steve had limped away, dragging poor brain-fucked Bucky with him. Tony snarls and lets out an angry roar, breathing ragged and in pain. He shuts his eyes and feels them brim with liquid, the warm sting of unshed tears dam up in the back of his throat.
Yep, definitely broken ribs.
Tony takes a light calming breath, wincing slightly as the ache in his ribs still pound against him with every intake of air and beat of his heart. He drags a cold stare over to the abandoned shield, so easily tossed aside, then the metal arm.
Tony rakes his eyes over the torn pieces and burnt metal that have twisted themselves upon being heated up so fast only to be cooled down even faster. He feels vaguely proud that he managed to take something from him, take something that maybe matters to the Winter Soldier.
The rage is still coursing through him.
He wishes he had taken more.
Tony spits blood on the ground and tries to push himself up to stand. Immediately it's a horrible idea, nausea and pain shoot through him and he can feel the bile rise in his throat. He slams back into the ground and his whole body racks with pain. There's a dizziness in his brain and he suddenly becomes very sluggish, he can't even raise his hands.
When he gets home he is going straight to bed, maybe a shower. Good lord knows he needs both. Medical attention too probably. When he gets home...
But how is he supposed to get home? He only has one decent foot thruster and that's barely working. Not to mention his suit which is just... he will not be flying anywhere soon. He's got no communication, no one knows where he is. Not Rhodey, not that Parker kid, not Pepper and fuck does he not need to open that can of worms right now because he cannot stomach another-
The vomit forces its way out of his mouth, he doesn't even have the power to turn over. The sounds are grotesque enough, all liquid splashing and gagging that is slick and suffocating. The whole body force of expelling this particularly disgusting bodily fluid shudders through him all the way down to his toes and the pain spikes through him like a tsunami. Tony hears a sickening crunch in his side as another wave of vomit forces its way up, coating down his chin and rolling down the left side of his face and partially into his ear. The horrible stench makes him gag and the pain increases with his dry heaving.
Is this what dying feels like? Is this what dad felt? Mom? Oh mom.
The cold seeps into his skin, the rancid liquid pooling around his neck and into his suit.
His eyes begin to droop, too heavy from all the strain, and black creeps into his vision. Hot tears fall from his eyes and this time he lets them, too tired to care. There is after all, so much Tony Stark can take.
He isn't a machine no matter the implication his hero wardrobe brings.
There is a man in that suit.
His heavy eyes close shut and his breathing starts to slow. He hears a familiar tune being hummed by a female voice.
Goodnight my angel time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Wherever you may go no matter where you are
I never will be far away
Tony feels the pain ebb slowly as he hums away and slips into unconsciousness.
Mom, did I ever tell you that you have a wonderful singing voice?
He drifts in and out of consciousness, the pain doesn't register and he thinks that shock may be setting in. Tony does feel, however, the wetness between his legs at the top of his thighs. He starts to cry again and turns his head to the left, trying to look at the night sky. The crusted vomit falls deeper into his suit, he shakes with disgust.
Wait, night sky? How long...
Well it would explain his body's reason for pissing himself.
It's definitely colder at night, much colder. Tony can hardly feel his nose.
He tries to lift a hand to fling some of the muck away but he can't. This time not from simple exhaustion, but the dead weight of his suit. No arc, no power, no movement. No fucking luck.
Tony lets out a broken cry, half sob and laughter.
He falls back into a fitful rest and dreams of a calloused human hand on soft pale skin, of blood in blonde hair, and his mother's last breath.
"Mr. Stark!"
He blinks, there's a voice, a young voice, and a hand shaking him from his shoulder. He winces as pain floods through his body.
"Mr. Stark!"
He looks down at the black gloved hand and travels up the black military uniform to a helmet covered head, black cloth covering their nose and mouth. The visor is up though and worried brown eyes look at him, eyebrows hitched together in fright. He's crouched down low, the tip of his right boot dangerously close to the dried pool of vomit on the ground, a med bag not too far behind him. Tony feels he should warm him about the mess so close to him but his voice doesn't seem to be working.
His eyes flit around instead and he spots at least a dozen of them. Guns in their hands, all black, all facing him.
Hmm, Special Forces?
"Mr. Stark we're here to take you home," The man with the young voice says.
Tony squints his eyes and nods.
"Sir I don't know how to get you out of your suit, so we're going to have to ride back in the chopper with it on. I know this may be uncomfortable, but I think I have something on the chopper that can help me get it off so I can check your..." The kid trails off, (can't be older than 24 good fucking lord) his eyes running up and down Tony. Tony doesn't blame him. He must look like the definition of shit. Bruises, blood, vomit, hell anyone of them could probably smell the piss.
"Your injuries sir."
At least he had the decency to finish the sentence. Tony feels the corner of his mouth tug upwards. He likes this kid.
"If you've got a welding torch and some patience you'll be fine. Tear this fucker up, I have dozens at home."
His voice comes out horse and croaky from nonuse, but the kid nods his head and Tony thinks he can see his smile through the black fabric.
He see two more soldiers come over with a stretcher and struggle but manage to get him on it without too much of a hassle. Tony still cries out in sharp pain as they start to move, then just bears through his teeth with it. No one says anything.
Quite the empathetic lot I got huh? Lucky me.
As he's getting carried away he notices a sharp glint of sunshine off of metal.
Wait, sunshine. It was just night, I- nevermind.
"Wait!" He grinds out, loud enough for the worried soldier walking behind him to hear. They stop and the kid leans down.
"Mr. Stark?"
Tony takes a small even breathe before pointing to the objects in question.
"I want those. Those are mine."
The kid looks in the offered direction and pauses, looks back to Tony who has a grit to his glare before ordering two men to pick them up.
"No problem Mr. Stark, we'll pack them with your suit," He says and they resume their walking.
Tony lays his head back and lets his eyes fall to half mast.
"How long have I been here?"
"Almost 26 hours."
Tony would have whistled if it didn't pain him to breathe.
"How'd you find me?"
"Something...Friday? Contacted Mr. Ross, gave him the coordinates but they were a little wonky. She said to tell you sorry, something about her getting locked out of the suit. Then it took us a little bit to get the squad together and then find and search this place. Sorry for the wait Mr. Stark."
Tony rolls his eyes at the apology in mock offense.
"I wasn't in any hurry to be anywhere."
A moment passes and he winces once from being jostled before turning to the kid again.
"Pack any remnants of the suit that make it up for me will you? But don't worry about being honorary to the shield or arm. If you'd like to add a few scratches or hell a sharpie dick drawing or two I wouldn't mind."
The kid gives a chuckle at that.
"Noted Mr. Stark."
Tony gives an exhausted smile.
"Call me Tony. Mr. Stark was my-" Tony suddenly feels the raw deep hurt from before come spiraling down on him and it more unbearable than the pain that racks his body. "Was my father."
The kid pauses again, eyebrows pulling together again.
"Duly noted Mr... Tony."
Tony feels the prickle of hot tears filling his eyes and damn, this won't stop soon will it?
"Time to go home Tony."
And he's being pulled into the chopper.
Home.
First thought is the Avenger's tower. Disgust wells up in him, but Vision is there, and Rhodey,
Oh Rhodey.
The tears spill over this time.
Home it is. Time to clean up the mess.
Again.
He reads the note over and over and over again, every single time making his blood boil more and more and more.
How fucking dare he.
How dare he think that a note, a fucking note would fix everything that has happened? Offering this poor excuse of on olive branch that felt like burning flames in his palm.
And the fucking phone.
Tony squeezes the hard cheap commercial plastic in his palm. It creaks under the strain of his fingers, knuckles turning white.
"So no matter what, I promise if you — if you need us. If you need me, I’ll be there."
Why hadn't he been there when Tony actually needed him? Why did he turn his back on everything? Didn't even look back.
Tony's lips pull up in a sneer. There's so much rage in him he can hear the blood rushing in his ears.
He doesn't know how Steve could expect Tony to look at him, let alone stomach his voice. He throws the phone and letter into a drawer in his office and locks it. He wants to burn it, destroy every trace of it, but it already feels like fire in his hand and he can't stand to have it in his presence any longer.
He closes his eyes and steadies himself on the dark rich wood of his desk.
"Tony?"
He opens his eyes slowly and sees Rhodes in his wheelchair, sweat staining his workout shirt and his legs angled to the left, knee to knee, no spine brace on. He's peering curiously at Tony and with no small amount of worry in every nerve of his body. Guilt shoots through Tony's body and he would give anything for Rhodes to walk again.
"Hey Peanut-butter how're you feeling?" Tony asks, hoping to God it comes out semi-normal and playful. Rhodes narrows his eyes, he must have caught something.
"What happened?"
Cut right to the chase huh?
"Nothing, I-"
"Don't you bullshit me Tony it just pisses me off."
Tony raised his hands in mock surrender, raising his brows in amusement at Rhodey's snark.
"I was extended an olive branch by means of a cellular device from the stone ages and a fairly touching," Tony rounds his desk to cross his arms and sit lightly on the edge,"Quote me on the sarcasm would you Rhodes?" He points at his best friend which earns his a short but bright smile and fuck if that hasn't been his goal these past weeks, "But not quite apologetic 'I did what I thought was right and so did you, sorry it didn't work out. Yada yada, I'm still here for you Tony, call me beep me when you want to reach me.' and 'Here you can be leader of the Avengers, because it doesn't fit me any more, but I've also taken more than half the kids in the divorce.' But hey, he's Steve Rogers right. Steve Rogers wrote me a letter. Of all people. Me. I'm honored to say the least."
Tony gives a snort of a mock laugh and shakes his head. He grips the desk on either side of him and thinks he can feel the warp of wood under his palms.
He hears the light squeak of Rhodey's wheels coming towards him.
Those should be foot steps. Oh fuck.
"Hey, Tony, fuck him," Rhodes whispers in his most comforting voice, a smile on his lips. He reaches up and places a warm hand on Tony's elbow.
"I say put that ugly ass phone up on the wall next to his shield and his little boyfriend's bitch ass arm."
Tony throws his head back and laughs.
"Aren't I the one who's supposed to be comforting you?"
Rhodes let's go of his elbow and Tony misses the warmth instantly. He remembers the cold, remembers the smell of vomit and the pain of a shield splintering through his chest.
Rhodey shrugs noncommittally, "I don't wake up screaming in the middle of the night in a pool of my own sweat."
"Yes you do," Tony points out because it's the truth and Rhodes does not need to think of Tony as the only one suffering or being worthy of comfort. He's the least worthy when concerned with that.
"You more so then me Tony. Before my run-in with gravity."
Tony takes a sharp breathe through his nose.
Remembers Rhodey falling down through the air so fucking fast.
"Rhodes-"
Rhodey holds up a hand. The words die on Tony's tongue.
"Do not blame yourself for what happened to me Tony. It could've happened on any mission I had gone on. I got hurt doing what I believe is right, what I still believe to this day is right. Everything I've told you before is true. I'm not taking anything back and I sure as hell will not put any blame on your shoulders. Lord knows you do enough of that yourself," Rhodey eyes him up and down accusingly but with affection. Tony sighs and runs a hand through hair.
"Rhodes-"
"No. No more. Not unless we are going to talk about how you are doing and I mean how you are handling everything, or about my next set of legs because I am mastering those prototype bad boys," He throws a thumb over his shoulder to the gym, "and I am going to want a new pair soon enough to match Iron Patriot."
Tony stuffs his hands in his pockets and tips his head back so the tears don't fall, blinks them away and plasters a small but genuine smile on his face.
What did he do to deserve Rhodey. Solid Rhodey, always there, Rhodey.
He walks around Rhodes' wheelchair to grab the handles, Rhodey huffs in annoyance but smirks in victory and allows it.
"Okay Pina-colada, let's go see the amazing progress you've made in the last, hmm, what twenty minutes? Last time I saw you, you were like out of the womb Bambi. Also, War Machine, still has a better ring to it."
A challenging string of 'ohs' leave Rhodey's mouth and he shakes a finger up in Tony's face.
"Watch your ass Thumper I'll be Prince of the Forest in no time. Rude ass, Iron Patriot is the shit."
As long as I have Rhodes, Tony thinks, as long as I have Rhodes I'll be okay.
We'll be okay.
"T-tony?"
"Mom?"
He's screaming, shouting for her, running through a forest in his pajamas with his arc reactor in his chest. He can hear her faint voice, it always seems farther away every time he thinks he's getting closer.
The dirt and grass under his bare feet are wet and slippery. He almost takes a nasty spill a couple of times but catches himself on a tree with rough bark that leave nice deep scratches on his palms and forearms.
"Tony!"
She's screaming and his heart is pounding in his chest. Fear laces through him and suddenly he's on a dirt road and he glances to his right and there's a car. Their car. A motorcycle is parked behind it, the Winter Soldier at the passenger side door, human arm through the window.
No-
"Mom! Get the fuck away from her!"
He races towards them, blood roaring with the intent to kill. That's his mom. That's his mo-
He gets knocked back into the dirt with enough force to his chest he wonders if a semi just hit him. He looks down and sees his chest is torn open, chest cavity on display, plied apart with two arms. Metal and flesh.
His arc reactor is in the middle of it all, placed gently between his lungs, he can't see his heart. He doesn't have one, what is this?
He kicks his legs out as unrelenting panic sets in and looks back to the car where the bastard is still stealing the life from her. Then, there's a flash of blue in from of him.
Steve is straddling his stomach and Stark can't buck him off. His weight feels like finality.
"He's killing her! He's killing her!"
Steve cocks his head to the side, confused. His eyes unfocused and his brow furrowing.
"No he's not, he's my friend Tony."
"Can't you see? Fucking look! He's killing her!" Tony is screaming, pleading with Steve to help. Help her!
Steve turns around and slowly looks over the scene, looks back to Tony, this time no confusion. Just finality.
"You know I wouldn't do this if I had any other choice-"
"There's always a choice!" Tony spits at him, snarling and going for Steve's throat with his hands. He just can't reach. Damnit!
"He's my friend," Steve replies, voice going monotone and robotic. Tony stops struggling, tears spilling from his eyes. He hiccups twice and shuts his eyes painfully tight as he hears his mother's last audible breath. He shouldn't, not from this distance, but-
"So was I," He sobs out, broken, limp.
Steve reaches behind his back, grabs the shield. The shield Tony's father made.
He raises it above his head and smirks at Tony, blood somehow now dripping down the side of his mouth clouding over his teeth. Tony begins to hyperventilate.
"I could do this all day."
Steve's voice sounds marred, low and messed up like an audio recording that's received water damage. Yes, exactly like water damage. Underwater. Steve is under water.
And then he brings the shield down onto, into, Tony's arc reactor, slicing through the bare flesh of his chest too. Tony screams but he can't move.
Steve brings it down again, and again, and again.
Tony screams.
Tony wakes up violently falling off of his bed and slamming against his floor. He clambers up immediately, hissing in pain as his raw bloody palms scratch against the sheets for purchase. He looks around the room, grounding himself in the present and takes even, deep breathes. It's dark, too dark to even be morning, but he can see enough with the light he has.
He glances down at his palms and sees crescent shaped wounds, four on each palm and there's ropes of claw marks down his forearms.
Tony is covered in sweat and his face is swollen and wet from tears. His eyes burn and hurt and he falls to his knees and buries his head in the bunched up quilt found on the edge of his bed.
He can't get the image out of his head.
His breathing is still elevated and his heart is pounding like crazy. He runs he fingertips over his chest but doesn't feel the old semi-familiar rise of metal. No soft blue light emanating from his chest. No arc reactor. No open chest. Just the bump of scar tissue between his pectorals.
"Boss?"
F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice rings softly through his room and he relaxes as he leans back onto the back of his feet. One hand is still tangled in the sheets and the other still rests on his chest. He tips his head back and closes his eyes.
"Fry? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He tries for the playful tone but fails, his voice cracks desperately and he grinds his teeth together.
"I could say the same for you."
She sounds worried, frightened.
"What can I say I'm a night owl," He teases, tries to. He gets up on legs that refuse to support his weight, and tosses his body onto the bed, stomach hitting the mattress because he doesn't trust himself not to rub his chest raw looking for the glass and metal that had been there once upon a time.
He pushes back his wet hair and grimaces at the sting of sweat salt in his palm.
"Boss?"
Tony turns his head to the side and closes his eyes.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"
"...I hope you sleep well sir."
Tony lets out an exhausted sigh.
"Me too."
He does not go back to sleep.
He doesn't sleep much at all anymore.
Tony is watching the t.v. There's some kind of hostage situation in Paris, a future political candidate on the rise beaten and bloody and the newsrooms were airing the hostage tapes. They already knew what building they were filming in, the place surrounded by French policemen.
French S.W.A.T.? What is the French equivalent of S.W.A.T.?
He's rubbing a hand over his mouth in thought when Vision comes and sits next to him on the sofa. It seems likes he's floating and then he's slowly sinking into the over plush couch.
"The Accords committee had called over the situation in Paris and have told us not to worry about it. I agree with the decision that Parisian law enforcement should be able to handle it. I suppose we now just," Vision splays his hands out in front of him, quite human like. Tony grins.
"I guess we just relax? Lord knows we need some down time anyway-"
Tony gets cutoff buy the t.v.
"This coming in we have information of the team of Avengers- I'm sorry vigilante criminals, lead by Captain America- Sorry once more, Steve Rogers, have found their way in Paris and have infiltrated the hostage situation. Here we have some aerial footage."
The footage shows all of them running towards the building. The policemen are dumbfounded, they aren't going to shoot Captain America. Of course not.
He has guns now, no shield. No Bucky either, and something dark in Tony's stomach is happy.
But seeing them all, all of his friends, all of his people? Work together, be a team.
No, not friends, not his people, at least not anymore.
They weren't his the same way he wasn't theirs.
He feels his jaw tick and he drums his fingers along the spine of the couch, feeling the leather smooth against his fingertips.
"You are a good man."
Tony shoots a glance at Vision who is staring straight at him.
"You are a good man," He repeats, saying it slower, softer.
Tony glances down, starts playing with the hem of his shirt.
"The niceties are wonderful but I don't-"
"You don't think you are, and you don't think you are enough. You've had far too many people leave you so easily," Tony snaps his head up again, "I trust in you Tony Stark. And I would like you to know that I am not leaving and I will never, not unless you command me of it. I confess I do not know what else to say to help you through..." Vision trails off but doesn't look away. Tony smirks and coughs to unclear his throat. It's awkward, no doubt about it, but it's sweet in an innocent childlike way.
"Are you trying to make your pops cry?"
Vision looks a split second worried but his face falls back into it's usual relaxed state, though the left corner of his mouth does turn up.
"I would prefer a change of program," Vision says motioning to the t.v. Tony barks a laugh and nods his head, his eyes sneaking a glance at the t.v. before it changes. Part of the building explodes, people are screaming, there is fire-
"Ah look, Man In The Iron Mask."
Vision clicks it hurriedly and spares a quick side eye of Tony. Tony nods placatingly and turns his attention to the movie.
But his mind wanders to the fire, to the explosion, to the screaming people.
And he wasn't there to help.
He's falling down. Fast and hard and he can hear the wind rush past his ears in his suit of armor. He's falling in New York, from the black hole. There's fire, it's exploding inside and the flames are so close to him even as he falls down, down, down.
He looks to his side and Rhodey is falling too.
"Rhodes!" He screams, but it just echoes back into his helmet, hurting his ears. His suit isn't working. Rhodes is falling at the same pace, he's about twenty feet away, all loose limbs. Ragdoll.
Then he's not beside Rhodey anymore but in the arms of the Hulk, being snatched up and swinging away from building to building until he's on the ground. They're all pestering him, touching him, worried hands.
He's still staring up at Rhodes, who just keeps falling. It's like there's never ending sky.
He looks around and Natasha is mouthing something, she keeps repeating herself before the words reach his ears.
"I'm not the one who needs to watch their back," She says, her face worried and lips still moving, not syncing up with her voice. Tony feels a tear in his armor and Natasha rips a chunk of metal from his back, it doesn't hurt but the implication is the same and it hits home in his heart.
He moves to run away, but Steve is there now, Wanda, Clint, Thor, Bruce, all begin tearing at his armor, ripping it away like paper. Start ripping into his skin. Like they want every piece of him.
Tony hisses in pain as he helmet is ripped fully from his head by Thor and the side scrape against his cheek. He takes the opportunity though, to look back to the sky to see Rhodey in his infinite loop, falling forever. Then Sam flies by, throws a thumb in Rhodes' direction and says, "Is Rhodes okay?"
Tony yells, "Help him!"
"Is Rhodes okay?"
"Fucking help hi-"
He stops when Bruce, skinny half naked Bruce, grabs him by the shoulders and opens his mouth wide, impossibly wide, and roars.
3 years later...
"Stark."
Tony looks up and meets Ross' questioning glare. He throws a slick oil salesmen smile at him in return.
"Just, pardon them. All of them?" Ross asks like he's talking to a child. Tony adjusts his suit and folds his hands in front of himself like a good little boy.
"All of them. Barnes has only turned up in the last five months, and if treated properly, he could give us all the information we would need. Who he killed, why he killed, to further what agenda? Really boring stuff right?" Tony's heart pounds in his chest.
Who he killed, why he killed, to further what agenda?
"Plus, they deserve a second chance to see what the Accords have to offer now that they've been amended."
Ross mulls it over before taking the seat right in front of Tony.
"What is this about? This isn't about Barnes' knowledge or the people that would return to the Avengers, bullshit team camaraderie and all. Tell me the truth Stark and I might let you have a pass with this."
Tony steels his gaze and feels the ice in his veins.
"I'm just a good guy who misses his...friends."
"Stark-"
Tony raises his hand and Ross quiets down, an amused glint in his eye.
Fucking asshole. Tony bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to slightly taste copper.
"You do this for me, I will owe you. Within reason, just like this is, because the benefits of them coming back do not in fact just benefit me. Compromise Ross, that's what you said when you brought that pretty little blue book to us the first time."
Ross makes a show of scratching his chin, trying to rile up Tony, make him think he has the option of mulling it over.
"Consider it done."
"You can do it?"
"You, Mr. Stark, are not the only person who owes me a favor. And with the number of times the world almost blew up or ended in an Alien invasion... It's safe to say we would be alright if the avengers reassembled much like they did before, but still with some ground rules."
Ross huffs as he stands and throws his jacket over his shoulder, turning to go before pausing in the door way and looking quizzically at Tony.
"Do you think a fruit basket would be enough apology for the ones that were in prison?'
Tony smirks, fire on his tongue.
"It was only three days. A fruit basket should be fine."
Ross nods and leaves.
Tony waits ten minutes, then twenty, then thirty, then a whole hour passes before his hand goes to his pocket and removes the old cellphone he got three years ago in the mail.
Bile rises in his throat and he flips it open and dials the only number in its contacts. It rings a consecutive three times before someone picks up.
"Tony?"
Tony grabs the phone away from his ear and barely makes it to a trash bin before vomiting. He gags as mostly stomach acid comes up and leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He grabs the handkerchief from his front pocket and wipes his mouth off. The phone is still open in his hand, he's certain Steve heard him.
He gingerly places the phone back to his ear, now prepared.
"Tony? Tony? Jesus Christ-"
And then the snarl was back on his face and the heat back in his blood because Steve Rodgers didn't get to be concerned for him, not after where he left him, not after three years of nightmares.
"Rogers," He hisses out, his throat sore from years of pent up anger and remnants of bile stuck to his vocal cords.
The line goes quiet for a moment but he hears some rustling and he can almost feel all of their breaths on his neck.
"Some time today, T'Challa will be getting a datacopy message of all of your pardons. I will have the hardcopies at the Avengers base. Once you have picked up your contract you will then decide if you will sign the Amended Accords. If you do not sign the Accords, you will make the choice to forfeit your status as a superhero. Do you understand? With the datacopies there will also be a copy of the new Accords you may read at your leisure before you come pick up your hardcopies here at the base."
"Tony-"
"If you do not retrieve your hardcopies from the tower or sign the Accords on United States property in 3 months, you will forfeit your pardon. And yes, even your Bucky Barnes gets one."
"T-"
Tony flips the phone closed, the satisfying snap of plastic smacking together resounds through the room.