“In breaking news out of West Africa: Liberian President Michael Boto has abdicated after months of protests and riots, which had resulted in many civilian casualties. Boto is considered to be the head of one of Africa’s most brutal military dictatorships, after having gained power in a coup that sparked the Third Liberian Cilvil War in 2008. The lack of military action on last week’s protests had brought hope among local opposition, while…”

“What are you watching?” Natasha asked from the doorway.

Steve looked at the screen one last time, images of crying and smiling protesters as a man was escorted away from the podium by armed guard. He turned off the TV, before addressing the spy.

“Nothing.” he said. “Just the news.”

She smiled knowingly at him before sitting down on the couch beside his own.

“It’s quiet.” she said.

“Yeah.”

And it was. Quiet. Not a day had passed by since he woke up in this strange new age that something horrible of massive proportions didn’t happen. Something that went beyond back-alley shootings and burglaries. But it had been quiet. For days now. No reports of new wars or ongoing wars. No terrorist bombings. No government-sanctioned genocides. No news from the cartels or arms dealers.

It was quiet. All over the world.

He stared at the black TV screen. And then, there was this. Powerful dictators just abdicating all of a sudden. It was the second time this week .

“I heard there were rumors of new peace talks in the Middle East and Afghanistan. What a lucky coincidence.” Natasha said.

Steve couldn’t help snorting at her words.

She smiled again. “What worries you, Steve? The world may have gone quiet, but you certainly wouldn’t.”

He wished he could just tell her. Could explain to her that he is just that, quiet. That the him here, the him now, is not the Steve Rogers who went into the ice. That the man who came out, who found himself in a world of noise, of compromise, of color fills the empty space with sound and chatter to drown this noisy foreign world.

He misses his world. Where things were simple and clear. There was good and there was evil. There were things a man ought to do, ought to fight for, fight against. And then there was the quiet. Back there, back then, quiet was good. Quiet was normal. Noise was wrong. Distracting. Immoral. But not here. Not now.

He missed the quiet. Sometimes, at night, while he stared at the ceiling, awake for hours, he wished he never left the ice.

But he couldn’t say all that. That was not what Natasha wanted to hear. Not what the team, what SHIELD, what the country wanted to hear.

“It’s too quiet. I don’t like it.” He said instead.

He wasn’t lying. It reminded him of things that were forever lost. Things he couldn’t have. He used to hate the noise. But now he wanted it back. This fake quiet. Imitating his time, his world. It was wrong .

“You think Ultron has something to do with it.” she stated.

Her words ticked him off. He hated what she did. What his therapist did. Just stating things. Pushing the burden of conversation on him. Leading him to elaborate.

He hated how often he had to have these conversations that he now noticed some of the ‘techniques’ they used. He hated her for using them on him. She couldn’t turn it off. Not after a lifetime of practice for someone in her position but… He hated that it worked.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“It only started after his Announcement. And continued for days on end. It will be a week soon. And we still haven’t been called in for anything.”

“You don’t believe this,” she said, hand directed at the TV and a sardonic tilt to her lips as she spoke, “could be the voluntary result of the good will of the people?”

Natasha had never hid the fact that she was a cynic. That she thought the world was black and gray and imaginary white. He wished he could convince her otherwise. But it was difficult here, in this world of noise and color. So many things that were just wrong , were accepted here. So many things that were right were barely tolerated.

He could convince here there. That there was good . There was good here too, but it was lost in perspective. In the big picture. Everything here was lost in the big picture.

“It could.” he said, and she raised her eyebrow at him. “It could.” he insisted. “But if it was truly voluntary, it would take more time. It wouldn’t just happen all at once. As if there was a deadline to reach.”

“One week.”

He nodded.

“Something will happen then. Something worse than threatening governments and forcing people to stop military action against their will. Something that will finally show Ultron’s intentions.”

“Don’t believe his talk of World Peace?”

“He seemed pretty convinced that it can only happen under his rule.”

“Probably.” she said.

“There’s no ‘probably’ about it.” There couldn’t be . Otherwise, he wouldn’t know what to do. What to think. “He doesn’t care who he hurts to achieve his goals. Johannesburg showed that.”

“Have you spoken to Wanda about it?”

No. “She was sleeping.” he said instead, even as Natasha stared at him disbelievingly. She was. He hadn’t tried to check on her hence but that was beside the point.

“She helped Ultron in Johannesburg.”

“She is a kid.” he repeated. “She had no choice.”

Natasha looked at him then, with a look that he had gotten pretty often in this weird modern age. A look that a female cop he had met at a charity event for retired police officers had once given voice to: “Oh, you naive young soul.”

He wasn’t naive. And he certainly wasn’t young. Children were innocent. That was not naïveté. This new world wouldn’t corrupt that. Couldn’t corrupt that. They could be forced and taught but couldn’t be evil. Not of their own will. They were the reason the world was worth saving. They were not responsible for the decisions of the adults around them.

“Ultron is a kid, too.” she said.

“He isn’t. He is a robot. He can make himself look however he wants.” he said, even though he hadn’t been able to hide his relief once he saw Ultron looking like a man when he made his speech. “His actions, his words, this quiet... they are not the acts of a child.” he continued.

“‘I think you're confusing peace with quiet.’” she added. “That’s what Ultron said to Thor back at the warehouse. He’s making the same mistake now. Making the world quiet.”

He hummed in agreement, thoughts of quiet making him recall memories better kept locked.

Peggy liked children.

“You are doing the right thing, Steve.” Natasha suddenly said, rousing him from his thoughts.

She had misinterpreted the cause behind his sadness. He forced himself to think back on the situation. He stared at the TV screen. The right thing. He was doing the right thing.

“We are.” he agreed, and she smiled as Natasha always did when verbally included into the team.

And they were, he thought, pushing aside the faces of happy protesters as a dictator lost power. They couldn’t simply let a robot, a machine, control the world, control people’s lives and futures as he wished. If Ultron had truly wanted peace, there were other ways, slower, surely, but still good, right ways to achieve that. It would take a lot of time, but good would win in the end. It always did. What Ultron was doing was wrong. And had already cost hundreds of casualties. Lives that would have continued if it weren’t for him.

The pretty speech he wrote last week meant nothing. A sham. A politician’s words. Worthless, nice-sounding lies. Certainly, not the words of a child .

Natasha was about to speak again when Clint appeared at the doorway.

“Stark and JARVIS just suited up and left. What has happened? Did they find Ultron?”

Steve was immediately on alert. Finally. No more waiting. They could put Ultron away once and for all and be done with this confusion.

But why hadn’t Tony come to him? Why hadn’t he told him if he found Ultron? They were a team .

“Wait a moment.” Natasha said as she looked up at the ceiling. “FRIDAY, you know anything about this?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanov.” a female voice answered from all sides and Steve barely managed not to flinch. This modern world had many things that shocked and terrefied him, but this… Tony’s… bots and… AIs, as he called them, they were at the top. “We received an alarm from Stark Industries Headquarters.”

Stark Industries. It had to be Ultron.

“Potts works there.” Natasha said.

“That’s why Stark left.” Clint continued. “Ultron’s after her.”

“Let’s go.” Steve said, as he went for his shield.