#murder.

Tony steps out into the alley behind the tower. Taking a moment for himself to breathe in the (arguably) fresh New York air.

He's doing good, being healthy, and all that grand stuff. It wasn't at all because he dropped and detonated a canister of crowd repellent that he was attempting to install into his armor... essentially smoking himself out of his own building.

The outdoor air was already working wonders on drying his stinging, watery eyes and easing the burning deep in his nose.

Tony turns his face to the sun, shutting his eyes and letting it warm him.

This is nice, actually. Taking a moment to breathe.

Not that he'd admit that to Pepper.

Tony takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His sense of smell was returning.

Wonderful. Though he could do without the smell from the bins. Thinking of it, yesterday was the pick-up day for the bins. There shouldn't be any smells.

Frowning, Tony opens his eyes.

Better investigate whatever's wrong with his bins before he gets a fine from some by-law officer, and it makes the news. He didn't need that. Stark-Industries didn't need that. Neither did the Avengers.

He briefly wonders if it's safe enough yet to slip back into the garage to grab some PPE before doing this. Probably not. The canister was high-strength. But the allure of temporarily losing his sense of smell again was strong.

'What could even smell that bad? Geeze!'

With a drawn-out sigh, Tony turns. Freezing as he spots the issue.

It wasn't the bins.

Hanging from some of the cables crossing the alley were three dead bodies. Strung up by their feet, rotting in the afternoon sun.

Tony quickly turns away, retching. Thankfully managing to keep his lunch down.

He should do something. But he's afraid that if he looks, he will lose everything he's eaten the past week.

Tony looks up as the back door opens, and Cap-2-electric-boogaloo steps out.

"Crap!" Barnes says, immediately noticing the bodies. Pulling out his pocket knife, the man throws it at the cable. The cord snaps, and the bodies hit the floor with a thud.

Tony shudders sickly. Averting his eyes as Barnes investigates the bodies.

"HYDRA. High ranking," Barnes says, admiration in his voice. "Throat cut efficiently. Drained. Clean work."

"Please don't sound so impressed," Tony says, crossing his arms.

"He's good at what he does."

"Who? You know who did-" realization dawns on him. "Oh, no. Barnes-" Tony turns to stare at the man and regrets it as he spots the bodies again.

"I'd say he's doing a good job."

"No!" Tony says, "Do NOT encourage him to leave bodies on my doormat for you like some damn cat!"

Barnes shrugs, eyeing the windows with poorly buried longing. And Tony knows he's hoping to spot him. His Winter Soldier.

He carefully casts an eye around the alley and up at the windows, looking for the spooky Ghost of America Past. Hoping to spot him like he would a creepy bug; so he knew where the thing was. It's always worse when they disappear on you, but you know they're still there.

He has a feeling Winter was here, somewhere, watching Barnes inspect his gift, hidden in some crack or crevice. Able to see Barnes and himself, but completely invisible to them.

Tony shivers. Hair standing on end. He eyes the back door. He needed to get out of here.

"They," he says, gesturing to the bodies, "don't go in my bin. He's your buddy; you dispose of them."

Barnes barely gives any reaction to that. Lost, gazing forlornly into the dark of shadows. The only indication that Barnes even heard him was a small nod.

Needing to be sure he was actually listened to, he adds. "I want this area clean. Completely spotless, understood? Not a single hair left. I want to-"

"I know how to dispose of a body, Stark," Barnes grumbles, "It'll be done."

"Alright," he says, barely managing to not stumble over his words.

Barnes makes no move to start cleaning up, still looking.

Done with this entire situation, Tony turns around and storms back into the safety of the tower.