Disclaimer haiku:
In the future, I
Can't say that I'll own any
Avengers either.

Note: The chapter titles are all bits and pieces from Bob Dylan's classic "Subterranean Homesick Blues." This is the song that inspired the name of the domestic terrorist group The Weathermen, who published a newsletter entitled "The Weather Underground."

All of which background is appropriate for this fic on several levels. Mwha ha ha.

And since Next Avengers does not take place in 616 continuity, I have occasionally (slightly) altered character backstories and location details. (More on that later.)

Reviews make me squee! :)

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You don't need a weatherman
to know which way the wind blows.

Bob Dylan, "Subterranean Homesick Blues"

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The shield's leading edge buried itself in the robot's head – or what would've been its head if it'd actually had one, instead of just a convenient mount for its lasers. James had thrown the shield with enough force that it didn't dislodge when the robot toppled, and since he was currently still using the shield the Iron Captain had taken from Ultron's trophy room, and not his energy-based one, he had to go get it.

That was easier said than done.

They were fighting in closer quarters than usual, deep in the head-spinning labyrinth of underground Ultra City, and the old sewer tunnel didn't leave a lot of space for ducking and dodging lasers, robot claws, arrows, lightning bolts, bioelectric stings, and the occasional errant slash of a magic sword.

Still. James would've been a total embarrassment to the Avengers name if he couldn't retrieve his own shield, for Thor's sake, without getting tagged by either enemies or friends.

He ran, dropped one shoulder and rolled under the zap Azari was sending to a robot on the ceiling, then popped up next to the toppled machine and tugged the shield free without breaking stride. This shield was heavier than James was used to – energy didn't weigh much, after all – and the metal alloy had taken a real beating over the last few days.

For that matter, so had he.

Most importantly: so had Ultron's endless parade of robots.

"Pym, duck!" he shouted, and slung the shield again, this time at the robot sneaking up on Pym's back. Pym didn't really duck; he just flew down a foot or so. The effect was the same, though, and the shield hit the robot full on one of its arm joints.

Now, the shield ricocheted properly. It bounced off the other robot's not-really-a-head, bounced off the ancient curved brick of the wall, bounced off the other wall, sliced open the side of the robot menacing Hawkeye, and zipped back to James' hand.

"Huh. That worked better than I thought," James said, shaking out his hand a little. The metal shield packed a zing.

Hawkeye whistled. "Good arm, Cap!"

"For the last time," James said, swiftly raising his shield to block a barrage of conventional bullets as well as his newest "sibling's" newest habit. Hawkeye had started the Cap nonsense on their return to Ultra City, and James didn't like it. As in, at all. "Don't call me that!"

"If the shield fits," Hawkeye said, deadpan, then coolly put an exploding arrow into the offending gun barrel.

Overhead Torunn gave one of her Asgardian victory shouts – really, it was more of a bellow, but she'd be the first to tell you that Asgardians didn't do anything so pedestrian as bellow – and chunks of destroyed robot crashed to the tunnel floor.

James did a quick count. Twelve robots when they started, ten fried heaps of scrap metal – "There's two more!"

"Where?" Pym cried out, his glow darting back and forth across the tunnel in a blinding zigzag.

"Running away like the cowards they are!" Torunn shouted from her higher vantage point. She spun once, pirouetting on thin air, and threw her sword like a spear. It whistled through the dim, dank tunnel and pinned one of the remaining robots to the wall in a shower of sparks.

Only one left. James held the shield at an angle in front of him and ran after it. Azari passed him in a graceful bound that James could never hope to duplicate, no matter how long or hard he trained. Azari was still lit up from the fight and the blue-white glow flickered over the walls.

The tunnel suddenly ended in an enormous gap where a portion of the floor had collapsed into some lower level – recently, by the looks of it. Azari said, "It went down there!" and jumped down through the ragged hole, following the robot, which was apparently running as blindly as the heroes were.

James jumped down after him. They landed in ankle-deep water that was freezing cold and absolutely stank, and as they splashed along, James couldn't help wrinkling up his nose and exclaiming "Ugh!"… even though it wasn't every heroic.

The walls here weren't old, battered brick. Instead they were gray concrete, with decayed holes every few yards where lights had gone, once upon a time. The robot was charging ahead, pulling away from them, and James ordered, "Light him up, Azari!"

Azari concentrated for a moment, and then a ball of crackling electricity flared to life at the end of his staff. He made a sweeping gesture with the weapon and the miniature lightning streaked down the old tunnel, blasting the robot squarely between its not-really-shoulders. It exploded with a satisfying screech of metal.

"Yes!"

James exchanged a high-five with his brother and they slogged forward to make sure the machine was truly destroyed. The wavering orange light from the fire cast twisted, shifting shadows everywhere, making it harder to see, but the smoke at least smelled better than what was already in the air.

"And that's twelve," James said, nudging the metal with one boot. He sighed and stretched the tired muscles in his arms before sliding the shield onto his back. "Only six million to go."

"The least Ultron could have done was included a self-destruct button on these things. Hey," Azari said, pointing farther down the tunnel. "Is that a door?"

James looked, squinted, and saw a door set on one side of the tunnel. A really big door, made of metal, with some kind of circle design stamped in the center. "I guess so."

"Should we check it out?"

James looked at the door, at the burning robot, then at the jagged outline of the hole to the upper level. The others were up there, waiting for them. Torunn was scowling impatiently, and Pym was buzzing around Hawkeye's head, making the older boy swat at him.

James cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "We're going to check something out!"

"Hey! Wait! Don't!" Hawkeye called. There was enough urgency in his voice that James came to a halt despite himself. Azari put on the brakes too, and turned back to face the rest of the team as they came down into the lower tunnel and waded closer.

"What?" James asked. "What is it?"

"You guys can't go this way," Hawkeye said. "We shouldn't even be this far down."

Azari made a gesture that took in the whole of the abandoned, water-filled tunnel. "Why not? Aside from that seriously nasty smell."

Hawkeye shook his head firmly. "It's off-limits. Always has been. My dad said only idiots or people with a death wish should come down here."

James considered that. Hawkeye's dad had been, of course, the original Hawkeye. And there was every reason to believe that Clint Barton had known what he was talking about – he had kept himself, his son, and the Scavengers alive for years, right under Ultron's nose. "Okay, but – why?"

"Dunno," Hawkeye said. "But some of the old-timers tell stories about monsters that used to live down here, before Ultron."

"Monsters?!" Pym yelped, his tiny voice going up another octave.

James made a scoffing noise. "We could handle monsters."

Pym looked horrified and blurted out, "But what if they're Hulk monsters?"

James thought about the raging green behemoth that they'd fought alongside… sort of… to defeat Ultron. Hulk was scary enough in the middle of the desert, with lots of potential escape paths. A face-off in a sewer tunnel, however… That was a whole different story. He felt a tug of unease, but tried to cover it up with a hasty, "We could handle it."

"Verily," Torunn declared, grinning at him. She flourished her sword: "Thou should lead us on to our next glorious battle, James!"

James started walking, Torunn fell in beside him, and the other three followed.

"Or to getting smooshed by monsters," Pym said, still worried.

"No. You might get smooshed, Pym," Torunn corrected. "I won't."

Pym stuck out his tongue at her; when she whipped her sword up and around at his head a second later, he yelped and darted to hover at James' shoulder.

"So does this make us idiots, or people with death wishes?" Hawkeye asked sourly.

"Probably both," Azari said.

They reached the door and Azari intensified his glow so they could see easily. The thick metal was slimy black where the water had stained it, but not rusted. There was a sizable panel of some kind set to the side of the door. The lock, James decided.

Up close, the design in the middle was revealed as a circle crossed with an X. Someone had taken a very sharp object to the design and carved a jagged M over it all.

"So what do you think, Pym?" James asked.

Pym flitted over to the lock panel and examined it in the green glow of his own bio-light. "It's different," he said dubiously. "It's not like Ultron's or Tony's."

James had been halfway expecting that. "Can you get it open?"

"Say no," Hawkeye advised. "That way no one gets smooshed and we can go have dinner."

Pym backed away a bit and returned to his normal size, feet splashing down in the stagnant water. "Um... I think I can," he said, excited. "I don't know who designed this! It's awesome! That –" he pointed at a flat, mildewed screen in the panel – "I think it's for palm print identification. Or maybe it's a retinal scanner! Oh! Maybe it's for analyzing voiceprints and DNA!"

James waited out the excitement with long-suffering patience; at least Pym had stopped panicking about sewer-Hulks. He repeated, "Can you get it open?"

Pym shrugged, his enthusiasm undimmed. "It's totally genius, but it's not in great shape. Too much water and mold, eww. I bet if Azari gives it a spark, it'll short out and open. Just like back home!"

"I thought you said it wasn't like Tony's locks," Azari said, justifiably alarmed.

"Just try," James told him. "If it works, great. If not, we'll leave and come back later."

Azari took a breath and nodded, a determined set to his shoulders. He raised one hand and held it near the panel screen. Blue-white electricity sizzled around his fingers, the screen lit up green – and then a woman's pleasant mechanized voice intoned, "Welcome."

Something clanked and rumbled inside the door, and it began opening down the center with a pneumatic hiss.

Everyone instinctively stepped back.

"I can't believe that worked," Pym said under his breath as the door slowly ground open. "Uh – I mean – of course it worked!"

"It didn't," Azari said, bemused. "I never zapped it."

"Then why did it open?"

Hawkeye leaned in and mock-whispered "Monsters" in Pym's ear.

Pym made an "eek!" noise, shrank down, and took up a spot behind James' head.

The space beyond the door was dark and cool. A fresh breeze blew through, gentle and clean, ruffling James' hair and mercifully driving away the fetid stink of the tunnel. Wherever the door led, it didn't feel like a "here there be monsters" kind of place.

But there was only one way to find out.

"Okay, Avengers," James said, sliding his shield onto his arm. "Let's go… uh, check this out. Whatever it is."

Azari built his lightning up again, Pym charged his stingers, Torunn took a fresh grip on her sword, and Hawkeye nocked an arrow to his bow.

Then they all walked forward into the unknown.