Hey guys! Wow, this got a lot longer than I planned O.o I wrote this for a prompt on LJ and only planned it to be a few paragraphs for each character. Lol, oops! Hope y'all don't mind! ^.- So Steve may seem a tiny bit OOC in Thor's section but hopefully its not too bad. Hope you guys like it!
IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of you may have noticed that my story Avengers Adventures in Texting got deleted recently. There was a format error in the story and I can't post it on this site. I plan to move it to my LJ account as soon as I can and I'll upload a link for anyone who wants it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing =/
OOOOO (1. Clint)
Clint knows he's well and truly screwed when he reaches back for his quiver and his fingers meet with only one remaining arrow. Well, shit. He's surrounded on all sides, any hope of a quick escape completely forgotten as the remaining gaps between the soldiers fill in and he's left in the center of the small circle they've formed around him. Its not an entirely hopeless situation, he's certainly faced worse, but the other situations always had some kind of inherent flaw that allowed him a brief second of distraction or contemplation that was the key to his survival. At the moment though, no opportunities are really presenting themselves as useful and he's still trapped.
There are guns pointed at him in every direction, long, smooth barrels with polished surfaces that prove they're new and probably far more expensive and important than any of the soldiers in this building. All of the soldier's faces are covered with a thick plastic shield that extends into a black matte helmet. Standard military protocol, really, but it makes Clint's job of incapacitating them that much harder because now he not only has to get through the helmet but also the body armor that protects them and with only one arrow at his disposal, that doesn't seem to be much of an option. They're all talking to him at once, thick, garbled words that come out distorted behind the shield in front of their faces. Wouldn't help if he could understand them anyway; he's relatively certain they're telling him to drop his weapon but Swahili is one of the few languages Clint is not fluent in and honestly they could be telling him anything from "drop your weapon" to "zebras have stripes" and he'd never know the difference.
One of the men takes a step forward, the barrel of his gun pressing dangerously close to Clint's back, and the archer casts a glance behind him. There's a metal panel on the wall directly behind his left shoulder and he thinks that if he could get the trajectory right, he could ricochet the arrow off the panel and take out maybe two of the soldiers behind him. But then he'd be completely out of weapons and still surrounded by at least six soldiers. His list of options is growing slimmer by the minute and he figures this is probably the one time he won't make it out of the situation in the nick of time like he had in the past.
There's a resounding click of weapons all around him, guns trained on his from every angle, and he probably only has a few seconds before they decide to use him as target practice. The muscles in his back tense slightly, anticipating the impact of bullets before they've even hit him. He's been shot twice and neither time was a very pleasant experience. Still, maybe if they all fire at once, he'll be dead before he feels the rip and tear of the bullets as they enter his flesh. He takes a deep breath and sighs. Bummer, he never did get to go to Bali…
"Clint, duck!"
He hears the voice echo far from the opposite end of the hallway and he doesn't need to be told twice; he knows exactly what's coming. He drops to the ground like his legs have been cut out from under his and the movement is so sudden that for a second the soldiers around him just look at each other dumbfounded. The confusion is immediately replaced with the satisfying thunk and clang of metal connected with metal, brick, and plastic, and all around him soldiers begin dropping to the ground like flies. Sunlight glints off the disc as it bounces off the metal panel Clint had been eying earlier and it boomerangs itself back into its owner's hands. Steve catches the shield like it weighs nothing and walks over to where Clint is just now rising from the floor.
The soldiers are unconscious on the floor all around him, some groaning in pain and confusion but most just laying there silently with their ears ringing from the impact of the shield. A few are still holding their guns but they seem of little use now since there's a good chance none of the semi-conscious soldiers can see straight enough to fire at them anyway. Steve steps over one of the soldiers and stops at Clint's side, eying him up and down carefully. "You okay?"
"Yeah, thanks," Clint answers, glancing back down at the unconscious soldiers. "I had 'em on the ropes."
"I saw that," Steve replies with a smirk. "They were all terrified of you."
"They should be." Clint takes about a half step forward before Steve shoves him back against the wall with enough force to knock the air out of him. His back collides with the wall and he's about two seconds away from indignant before he hears the metallic clang of a bullet connecting with the shield. It hits the side with enough force to vibrate the metal before it bounces off onto the floor. The side when Clint had been standing only a few seconds before. Steve reacts before Clint can and brings the shield down heavily on the side of the man's helmet, knocking him unconscious instantly and leaving them alone once more.
"Persistent, aren't they?" Steve asks to no one in particular, still staring down at the unconscious man on the floor.
"More than you know," Clint agrees, stepping over the soldiers at his feet and heading for the door. "Let's get out of here before their persistence wakes them all up at once and we're stuck in a firefight again."
Steve nods and follows him out, slinging the shield up on his shoulder and stepping over the piles of unconscious soldiers on the floor.
OOOOO (2. Natasha)
Natasha bites back a cry of pain as she bounces off the hood of a car and crumples to the ground in an awkward heap. There's a sharp snap that follows her landing and a wave of nausea hits her instantly. Something is broken, that much is certain, but she can't be sure the extent of the damage from this position on the ground. Another blast rocks the ground beneath her and the surrounding building's windows give way in a burst of glass shards that shower over her like razor sharp raindrops. The palms of her hands are bloody and shredded from the impact earlier and there's a cut on her cheek from the exploding glass but its nothing compared to the pain in her leg. It's sharp and white-hot, like metal heated in a fire, and its lacing its way up and down her leg from the lower part of her ankle up to her knee. Definitely a break but she still can't see it. There's another explosion up the street and lying out in the open like this is definitely not going to protect her if it gets any closer. She knows she can't walk so she does the next best thing and rolls under the car beside her, pressing herself flat against the glass covered concrete and trying to breathe through the pain in her leg.
She glances down at her leg, her vision slightly obscured by her position under the car, and has to squint to see the damage. Her ankle is twisted to the side at an unnatural angle and the deformities visible beneath the material of her suit show not one but possibly two breaks: one down low near the ankle and other a bit higher up in her tibia. The wound isn't open but the visibility of the bone broken beneath the skin makes her stomach clench and she swallows reflexively to keep from gagging. She drops her head back down onto the ground, squeezing her eyes closed and trying her hardest to breathe past not only the pain now but also the nausea that accompanies it.
Another blast shakes the car above her body and the ground below her shakes violently with concussive force. One thing is certain, the explosions are getting closer and she's stuck under this car with no way to get away. Her communicator broke when she hit the car (at least she thinks it's broken; all she can hear is static through the channels) so she doesn't even have a way to call for help. Not that it would do much good anyway; the beast's first plan of attack was to divide and conquer before sending out consecutive fire balls to destroy all the surrounding buildings. Not only that, but it could also multiply which left them all at a severe disadvantage seeing as how each creature ended up being about fifteen feet tall and covered in thick scales that rendered it nearly impossibly to kill. Nearly, but not completely. Before she'd taken the hit into the car, she knew at least five of them had been killed in some way and she had managed to blind the one pursuing her before it swept her off her feet like it was batting at a fly. She should have felt proud of that accomplishment but it only made matters worse. Now, instead of chasing after her and focusing its attention on her destruction, the creature was shooting at the surrounding buildings blindly in hopes of destroying her and everything else in its way.
The ground vibrates beneath her again and this time she can feel the heavy fall of its feet as it tramples down the street in her direction. It's sweeping cars and rubble out of the way with wild, uncoordinated motions and it will only be a matter of minutes before it reaches her hiding place. She needs to get away, get to another location that will offer better protection, but with an injured leg and the fact that the creature would probably sense her presence makes the escape that much harder.
Another fireball crashes through the building to her right, the intense heat making her gasp unexpectedly. The car shifts a bit over her head, the ground trembling as heavy footfalls get nearer to her. She checks her gun and frowns. Not only is she injured and trapped, she only has half a magazine left and that small amount of bullets won't be near enough to take out the creature before it does her in first. This day just keeps getting better and better.
"Natasha!" A voice hisses somewhere up above her and she feels her eyes widen in recognition.
"Steve?" She calls back weakly, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible while still signifying where she is. For a long moment she doesn't hear anything other than the tremendous crash of the beast on the street above her. She's almost convinced herself she's hearing things when there's a sudden blur to her right and Steve drops down one his knees beside the car.
"Hey! Are you okay? Can you move?" He asks quickly, casting a glance over his shoulder as something tumbles into the lower floor of the building beside them.
Natasha shakes her head in frustration, hating the feeling of being weak and helpless more than anything. "No…I think I broke my leg when I fell and I'm almost out of ammo."
Steve glances down at her leg and obviously sees the break from the way his jaw sets itself in a hard line. He looks back over his shoulder as another fireball careens over his head. "Okay, stay here for a minute, alright? I'll be right back."
"What? No! Steve, get back here! That thing will kill you!" Natasha shouts after him but her warnings go unheeded as Steve disappears away from the edge of the car. It had taken at least two of them to take down even one of the creatures at first and that was before they all got separated. She has no idea how he plans to do it alone. There's a deafening crash above her head followed by an enraged roar that vibrates the ground around her. Something sounds like metal twisting and breaking, heavy thunderclaps of destruction in an already destroyed block of the city. Another roar ripples through the air but it somehow sounds farther away, not directly overhead like it had been a minute before. At first she thinks there's another one but after listening for a second all she can hear is the one, father up the street and away from her place under the car.
Steve is back a second later, gripping the underside of the car and flipping it over like it's a toy. "Okay, I bought us a couple minutes of time but we need to move fast. I'm going to pick you up, okay?"
Natasha doesn't have time to protest before Steve has scooped her up off the ground and into his arms. Her leg jostles a bit and she can't quite bite back the yelp of pain that tears itself through her throat. Steve adjusts her as carefully as he can, apologizing softly and holding her close as he steps away from the wreckage of the street around them. There's a flaming hole in the side of the building to their left and he turns in that direction, not quite running but moving fast enough to clear the space in a matter of seconds. Natasha has both arms gripped around his neck tightly, her face buried in his shoulder to keep from crying out. Each step jars her injured leg and the pain is enough to make her dizzy but she knows that the further they are away from the open lanes of the street, the better.
The creature is back up on its feet, thundering toward them once again like a freight train. Steve had managed to knock him backwards somehow, putting a large gap between them and the point of attack. It's sensed them though, even without the use of its eyes, and its coming directly for them. Steve sets Natasha down as gently as he can against a crumbled portion of the wall and steps in front of her, holding his shield in front of his chest and covering both of them. The beast is closer now, hot flames flickering around its dagger-lined mouth and its making that strange growling noise again, the same one it makes right before it shoots a fireball straight at them.
"Steve…" Natasha says and she can't keep the slight tremor out of her voice. They're trapped again, stuck in the open mouth of this building, and they're about to be burned alive. Definitely not how she'd thought this day would go.
"Wait for it…" Steve says by way of reply, keeping his shield ready just in case. Obviously he knows something she doesn't and if that's the case, Natasha would really like to know what it was.
The beast is right on top of them, glaring through its ruined eyes at their blurry shapes. It hocks back, jaws wide and open and full of flames, and lurches forward to shoot. Natasha closes her eyes and waits for the flames. Only they don't come. There's a huge crash, an explosion really, and she opens her eyes just enough to see the creature get blasted to the side. It falls to the ground in a massive heap and doesn't move, the flames still leaping around the sides of its mouth.
Steve is speaking into a communicator, waving in acknowledgement at the jet overhead. "Yeah, that's the last one down here. The others are about two blocks away." The jet shoots back off into the sky without any kind of warning and leaves them both alone in the opening of the building. Steve turns and lifts Natasha again, more slowly this time now that they aren't running for their lives. She just shakes her head in disbelief.
"How?" Is all she can get out before Steve steps through the gaping hole in the building and begins walking down the street with her in his arms.
Steve just shrugs nonchalantly. "I guess Fury thought we needed some help so he called in an air strike. There were only a few of the things left by the time they got here though; I think the one they just blasted was the last one."
Natasha can't help the tiny laugh that escapes her and just rolls her eyes upwards. "Always late for the party."
Steve smiles in return and steps over the bumper of a car. "Let's get back the helicarrier so they can check out your leg. We're going to have to PR events for the next year to cover all of this."
Natasha just smiles again and lets herself relax in his arms.
OOOOO (3. Bruce)
"-anner…"
"-anner!"
"Banner!"
Bruce opens his eyes slowly and winces, blinking up at the dusty blue sky above his head. His whole body hurts, his head throbbing viciously in time with his heartbeat, and all of his joints feel like they've been broken and reset. Its not an uncommon feeling, his body usually feels like this after the "other guy" takes over; the feeling like he'd been hit by a tank and then thrown in front of a train. Actually, he's pretty sure that happened once from the news clips that appeared late that night on TV but he doesn't remember any of it. He never does. It always takes him a long time to regain his senses after he changes back; memories, motor skills, hand-eye coordination all comes back slowly like he's waking from a long and painful coma.
He tries to start slowly, cataloguing every bone in his body and trying to figure out if anything is broken or if this is just the normal post-Hulk pain he always experiences after a change. Feet? No. Legs? No. Torso? Maybe a fractured rib or two. Something small flickers above his head, yellow and light in the dusty air. It's a little bird, slightly bigger than a humming bird but smaller than a Robin. It lands on a twisted piece of rebar sticking out of the broken slabs of concrete all around him and just watches him with its inky, little black eyes. Bruce stares back silently, unable to move and simply captivated by the little bird's presence.
He tries to think back to what happened before, how he ended up here. Its no use of course, he never remembers much of the Hulk's rampages but it would really help to know where "here" was exactly. He looks around, taking in the broken walls and crumbled ceiling. He's pretty sure he's the reason for the building's state of disarray but he can't be certain. He's not really certain of much of anything right now except the fact that he's naked.
"Banner!"
And that someone is shouting his name. He winces again, the echo of his name bouncing off the broken walls all around him and ringing in his ears. He raises one hand up to his head, palm and fingers covered in a fine layer of dust, and sweeps his hair away from his face. His fingers brush over a rather painful lump at the back of his head and he frowns, wondering if some of his memory problems are stemming from that. It would be quite possible to sustain a concussion on his transformation back into his smaller, more fragile, Hulk-free form so the bump could be to blame but he's not sure. He pushes himself up on one elbow, looking around the destroyed building one more time. Seriously, where the hell is he?
"Banner!" There's a blue blur to his left and he turns his head slowly to see Steve hopping over piles of rubble and making his way to his side. His suit is dusty and ripped, something like grease streaking down the side of one leg and pooling at his foot. It could be blood but Bruce can't really be sure of that either, he's still trying to re-adjust his senses to their normal human form. Steve comes to a stop beside him, dropping down to one knee and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Bruce? Hey, can you here me?"
Bruce feels himself nod and a small shower of dust rains down from his hair at the movement. "Yeah, I'm…where are we…?"
Steve opens his mouth to say something but then suddenly he's back on his feet, back to Bruce and talking to someone off in the distance. Bruce can only hear garbled sounds for a second before he's able to make out the words. And the fact that Steve is talking to several people all at once.
"He's fine! Everything's fine now! Put 'em down!"
Bruce blinks and looks up to find both he and Steve surrounded on all sides but black clad soldiers holding guns trained on both of them. The guns could contain anything from tranquilizers to bullets, there's really no way to be sure, but Bruce knows they're all aimed at him for a reason. He'd given Fury and every agent of S.H.I.E.L.D free reign to shoot both him and the Hulk if it ever came down to it. He had no control when he was in full Hulk-mode and if it ever came to the point where he became a danger to his teammates or any innocent bystanders, he gave them permission to load him up with lead.
One of the soldiers is saying something to Steve and the Captain glares at him from behind his cowl. "I said he's fine. Put the guns down! Now!" The soldiers still haven't moved their weapons, all barrels aimed directly at Bruce, and Steve is stubbornly standing between him and the guns like a human shield. His shield is raised in one hand, shoulders squared and jaw set as if challenging the soldiers surrounding them. If they want to get to Bruce they're going to have to go through him first.
"Steve…" Bruce finally manages to find his voice again and the words come out as a garbled croak rather than an articulate summons. It has the desired effect though and Steve turns to him immediately, casting one more brief glance over his shoulder at the soldiers before dropping back down to his knees beside Bruce. "I'm okay," Bruce mumbles, the words feeling heavy and thick like syrup in his mouth. "I'm okay just…help me up, alright?"
Steve nods and offers him his hand, pulling him up slowly and keeping a steady grip on him until he's certain he's not going to topple backwards. It only once he's completely upright that Steve lets go, staying close by his side in case he needs to step in the way to block a renegade bullet mistakenly fired. Bruce looks up at the soldiers surrounding them, taking in their cautious expressions and tense postures, all watching and waiting in case they need to take the shot. Bruce manages to a weak smile and attempts to wave but it just hurts. "Good job, guys. Thanks," Bruce calls out to them, smiling awkwardly like he's thanking an executioner for a job well done. "At ease…I guess."
Very slowly, the soldiers begin to drop their weapons and step back away from their positions around Bruce. Steve doesn't move until the last solider disappears over a pile of rubble, his eyes glued to their retreating figures until the last one is gone completely. "You okay?" He asks when he finally turns back to the scientist, looking at him carefully for any sign of injury.
"Yeah…just a little hazy is all. I think I bumped my head somewhere along the way," Bruce mumbles, one hand carding through his hair again and finding the bump on the back of his head with his fingertips again. He looks down, suddenly remembering his lack of clothing, and feels his face heat slightly. "Also, I'm very naked."
Steve just chuckles and pulls something out from the straps behind his shield and hands it to Bruce. The scientist frowns and takes it, shaking it out to reveal a pair of slacks that Steve had somehow snagged from his room before the mission. Knowing his tendency to end up without pants after he changed into the Hulk, his teammates had started carrying around spare pairs for him when they were called away on missions. It was a thoughtful gesture but it bothered Bruce to think of his teammates pilfering through his drawers looking for spare pants for him. Still, he can't complain when he's standing naked as the day he was born in the middle of decimated warehouse.
"Thanks," he says, shaking the pants out again and working one leg into them. "How do you keep getting in my room to get these anyway? I usually have the door locked."
Steve just shrugs. "I don't know how the others get them but I got these from the laundry room so they were fair game in my opinion. Always be prepared, you know? At least that's what they stressed in the boy scouts."
"Why does it not surprise me at all that you were a boy scout?" Bruce asks, shaking his head and laughing softly as he zips the pants and buttons them.
Steve just laughs and pats him in the shoulder in response.
OOOOO (4. Tony)
There's a loud crash as several hundred pounds of concrete and plaster fall on top of his head and connect loudly with the top of his faceplate. Something large and heavy knocks him to the ground, pinning his legs and one arm and effectively trapping him under the collapsed remains of a wall. Well, shit.
Tony groans in frustration and tries to sit up, finding his movements severely hindered by the broken slab of concrete and a piece of a support beam resting over both his legs and his torso. His left arm is buried under an equally large pile of rubble and he can barely move more than his fingers beneath the rock's weight. He's completely pinned, trapped even with the aid of the suit, and there's no way he's getting out of this without help. Luckily, the suit had protected him as he came crashing through the wall and he hadn't sustained any injuries in the impact. Well, at least none he could feel. Still, he was pinned like a moth in a glass box and the structural support of this building seemed sketchy at best.
"JARVIS, damage report," Tony says, trying and failing to move his legs beneath the concrete slab. Thank God for the suit; without it he was pretty sure he wouldn't have legs left at this point.
"Sir, my reports indicate no serious injuries though the exterior of the suit has taken significant damage in the collapse."
"Perfect. Can you find any weak spots in the rubble that will help us get outta here?"
"Negative, sir. Any disruption of the rubble could create more structural damage. It appears a large portion of the wall has collapsed already."
"Yeah, I know. We're under it," Tony grumbles in frustration, letting his head fall back against the broken concrete. Great, he's trapped and any attempt at escape could lead to the rest of the building collapsing on top of him. Being entombed definitely wasn't on his list of accomplishments today.
"Sir, further scanning has indicated a possible exit approximately six feet directly behind you."
Tony rolls his head back against the floor, arching his back as much as possible to see the space JARVIS had indicated. There's a triangular hole in the rubble, one wall completely intact with a large slab of concrete propped up against it like a lean to. Its easily big enough for someone to stand up in and there's dusty beams of daylight streaming through the remnants of the wall behind it. If he could just figure out how to get over there without bringing down the rest of the building…
He tries to move his legs again with the same lack of success and his left arm is still completely immobile as well. His right arm is free though and he manages to raise his hand just slightly in the confines of his rubble prison, aiming at the chunks of concrete covering his left arm. Maybe he'd have more success if both arms were free…
He fires a short blast at the rubble covering his other arm, jerking his head to the side as wayward pieces of rock fly back and hit him in the face. The rubble above him shifts ominously, creaking and groaning under the weight and instability of everything on top of it. Showers of dust and tiny, broken pieces of concrete rain down on top of him, clinking against the metal suit surrounding his body. A few larger pieces fall as well but miraculously manage to miss any parts of him that are not currently covered in rubble. Tony winces as he sees the framework visibly shift around him, swaying dangerously and sending another agitated groan through the building.
"Sir, the structural stability of the building is weakening at a faster pace than originally perceived. I'm afraid your position will be compromised in a matter of minutes if you do not find a way to get out."
"Thanks for the pep talk, JARVIS," Tony grumbles, wincing as another, slightly larger piece of concrete bounces off his helmet and makes a visible dent. He's glad he has it or else that dent would have been in his skull. "Options?"
"I'm sorry sir, but it appears the only stable location and possible exit are from the position I indicated earlier."
"Alright, well, I can't really get to that position at this moment in time so unless you can find any alternative-"
"Tony?"
Tony blinks and frowns, slightly thrown for a second by the new voice coming through the intercom in his helmet. It wasn't JARVIS, that much was certain; this voice sounded familiar and human, not an AI filter.
"Tony? Are you there? Can you hear me?"
Tony frowns again. "Steve?"
"Yeah, its me. Where are you?"
"Oh you know, just camping out under a building," Tony answers back, blinking reflexively as several more pieces of concrete bounce off the face plate of his helmet. "Hey Steve, I hate to bother you with this but do you think there's any way you come by with a shovel or a dump truck or something? This building is pretty unstable and the thousands of tons of concrete teetering precariously above my head aren't really that comforting."
Steve is silent for a second and for a brief moment, Tony wonders if the connection has been lost. "I'm coming to you," he answers back finally and Tony will deny to his dying day the relieved sigh that escapes his throat. "Just stay still and don't move."
"Uh, not really going to be a problem, big guy," Tony responds, ducking his head to the side just as another chunk of concrete falls. "Hey Steve? Not trying to rush you or anything but this place is literally falling apart while I'm looking at it."
"I'm almost there, Tony. I have a lock on your position now."
"Sir, the upper floor of the building has been compromised and is beginning to collapse. My readings indicate it will fall completely in approximately four minutes."
Tony tries to move his legs again without success. The building groans audibly and creaks just inches above his head in protest of the movement. "Ngh…anytime now, super soldier."
There's a shuffle of movement behind him and through the dusty air, Tony can just make out the outline of a shape. "Tony?"
"Right here," Tony calls back, waving his arm as much as he's able. "See? I was good. I didn't move and stayed right where you told me to. I think I should get a medal or something for that."
Steve is on his knees a second later, crawling through the rubble and inching his way to Tony's side. The space was already small with just him in there but now that Steve was there with him it was verging on the point of claustrophobia. "You okay?" Steve asks, lifting a few of the heavier chunks of concrete off of Tony's legs and giving him a bit more freedom to move.
"Yeah, I'm just pinned in here like a bug under a microscope," Tony answers, moving his legs just slightly as more of the rubble is removed. "JARVIS says the upper floors are about to collapse so we need to get out of here ASAP. He said that space you just came through is stable enough for now but the rest of this place is like a time bomb waiting to go down."
Steve nods and continues clearing away the rubble, freeing Tony's other arm and then moving down to the heavier chunks on his legs. He stoically ignores the creaking and groaning of the collapsing building over their heads and pushes a large, heavy slab of concrete off of Tony's lower legs. "Think you can move?"
Tony weighs the options in his mind and figures the movement of both of them in the tiny space would make the foundation even more unstable than it already was. "I think I can but it might not be such a good idea. The suit is already damaged and may not support me when I try to stand; if I fall into one of these walls then the whole place could come down on top of us."
Steve nods his understanding and glances back toward the opening he'd crawled through minute before. "Okay, I'm going to go back to that opening and drag you through. The floor is pretty clear from here to there so it shouldn't be a problem." He moves behind Tony and slips his hands beneath his arms, fingers finding purchase in the grooves of the metal suit. "On three, okay?"
Whatever answer Tony was going to make in response is cut off by a deep grinding noise, the sound of metal and stone grating together as its being pushed down on top of itself. Tony meets Steve's eyes for a split second before the other man yanks him forward suddenly. Almost instantly the space where Tony had been trapped second before collapses in on itself and disappears behind a mountain of rubble and concrete.
Tony can hear the scrape of the metal suit as Steve drags him across the floor and its loud and jarring in his ears. He's only vaguely aware of the shift in space, the air suddenly easier to breathe and much clearer than it had been before. He squints at the filtering sunlight, still bright and glaring even through the dustiness of the building. There's a tremendous crash above their heads and Tony finds himself looking up, past Steve's head, and watching the upper floor rain down on top of them. His vision is suddenly obscured by a flash of sunlight glinting off of metal and something heavy lands on his chest. He lets out a tiny "oof" of surprise and opens his eyes a second later to find Steve all but laying on top of him. The groaning of the building lessens, the dust settles a bit, and both men are left laying in the destruction, breathing heavily and covered in dirt.
"Ugh…three." Steve is the first to sit up, shifting his shield a bit and dislodging a heavy piece of rubble from the top of it. The glint suddenly makes sense as Tony realizes Steve had thrown himself over the top of him and protected them both with the shield as the remaining rubble crashed down around them. He's damn glad for that shield now; the chunk of rubble would have probably crushed his helmet and, by proxy, his head, like a soup can if it had fallen directly on top of him. Tony looks up at Steve, who's still partially on top of him, and cracks a grin. "You know I usually insist on dinner before I allow strange men to lay on top of me."
Steve just laughs and shakes his head, dust falling off his shoulders and mask in little trickles. "I'll take you to dinner anywhere that's not that God awful Shwarma restaurant you love so much. And preferably when we're not covered in dust and rubble. I think I just swallowed half a sandbox…"
"I love it when you talk dirty like that."
Steve just rolls his eyes and laughs. "I honestly can't believe you just used that pun…"
"Eh, it was relevant to the moment," Tony smirks and sits up, swiping dust off the front of his suit. "Now let's get out of here before the rest of this building decides to go down."
OOOOO (5. Thor)
"Mr. Secretary, I urge you to reconsider your decision. This verdict seems a bit harsh considering the circumstances involved."
"I'm sorry, Director Fury, but my decision has been made and will not be changed. This meeting is adjourned."
"You cannot dismiss this matter so quickly!" Thor exclaims, rising to his feet abruptly and towering over every man at the table. "Your judgment is folly!"
The Secretary of Defense's eyes narrow at the demi god across from him and he casts a very brief glance over his shoulder to the black suited servicemen standing beside the door. Each one is armed and highly trained for situations that get out of control. Each one would have no problem taking a shot if it came down to it. "May I remind you, Thor Odinson, that your presence here is that of a guest, not a citizen. If you cannot control yourself, my men will be happy to step in in your place. Your conduct is not doing anything to sway my decision, either."
Thor's eyes narrow in return but he takes a step backwards, putting more space between himself and the Secretary than there had been a few seconds earlier. "I am no threat to you or anyone in this room. I am no danger to this planet."
"I understand your point but I'm afraid the matter has been decided. You will not be allowed to remain on Earth, Thor Odinson. I'm sorry."
The words are cut and dry, simple yet lacerating like a scalpel, and for a moment no one moves or says anything. Thor simply sinks down and sits rigidly at the table, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Fury had advised him to stay silent through much of the meeting, telling him he would do the talking and handle the political and legal negotiations. However, it seemed even with Fury's influence, the request was a losing battle. The meeting with the Secretary of Defense certainly wasn't going the way he had hoped it would and now he was being denied citizenship to Earth as one of the Avengers. His participation in the battle against Loki had been noted and commended but it was another matter entirely now that he was back on the planet, five months after the battle, and requesting permission to stay. Not just for the Avengers but for the entire planet; he wished to stay for his teammates, the friends he'd made of the fields of battle and in the times of peace. He wished to stay for coffee and pop tarts and Darcy and the other members of S.H.I.E.L.D. He wished to stay for Jane. But his request is being denied and the Secretary of Defense is closing the folder and handing it to a man beside him without a word. Thor will not be able to remain on earth.
"Hold it," a voice snaps from the solid wooden doors at the end of the room. Every eye turns to voice's owner and finds a very flustered, very irate Steve Rogers striding into the room, completely ignoring the armed servicemen trying to step in his way.
Fury glances up from the table and quirks an eyebrow above his eyepatch in surprise. "Captain Rogers, so glad you could join us for the meeting. Though I'm afraid it just ended."
"Sorry sir," Steve answers breathlessly, his eyes never leaving the Secretary of Defense's face. "I had a bit of trouble on the subway." As the technical leader of the Avengers, he had been given permission to attend this closed door meeting and defend Thor's position on the team; he had also planned on being there much earlier than this. However, getting lost in the subway system wasn't part of his plan and now he was over an hour late and they were getting ready to end the meeting without so much as a blink. He steps away then, any other comments from Fury forgotten, and approached the Secretary. "You're not allowing Thor to stay here on earth?"
"No, Mr. Rogers, his request had been denied," the secretary answers coolly, his hard, grey eyes locked on Steve as he spoke. He'd dealt with irate politicians and cabinet members for the past three years, the crisis in New York escalating not only his pay grade but also his lack of patience. A good majority of the city had been destroyed thanks to the Avengers' recklessness and even though they had technically saved the world and he was loathe to admit that Fury's team was actually doing a lot of good for this country, he wasn't about to forget that they were part of the previous destruction either.
"On what basis?" Steve demands, not backing down for a second.
"On the basis that, while he was instrumental in helping to bring the criminal Loki into custody, Loki was from Thor's home planet of Asgard. It was bad enough trying to deal with the fallout of the first encounter we had with Thor," the Secretary's eyes shift to Fury, clearly meaning the town that had been leveled by the Destroyer Thor had battled a little over a year earlier. "But then the arrival of his brother, the man who not only destroyed over half the city of New York but also tried to enslave the earth as well, solidified our decision. It is simply too risky to allow him to stay here. It's a threat to both this country and the world as a whole."
Steve's eyes flash darkly and he glares at the Secretary angrily. He was used to remaining calm and level-headed under the instructions of an authority but this was going too far. "With all due respect sir, I think this ruling is ridiculous. Thor helped us save this planet and more than that, he was the one who took Loki back to Asgard. He deserves to stay here on earth just as much as any of the rest of you."
"This matter is not up for discussion, Mr. Rogers," the Secretary snaps, looking Steve dead in the eyes. "Thor is not to remain on this planet and his position in the Avengers is no longer recognized. He is to be escorted away in the morning. That's final. Is that understood, Mr. Roger?"
Steve's eyes harden at the statement but he nods just slightly. "Yes sir, I understand."
"Good," the secretary brushes past him, heading for the door with the servicemen following close behind him.
"Thor will no longer be part of the Avengers," Steve says from behind his back, his eyes still trained on the door they're exiting from. "And I won't be either."
The Secretary stops and turns, looking at Steve carefully. "Mr. Rogers, this decision is not-"
"No, this decision is perfectly clear, Mr. Secretary," Steve snaps in return, his voice sharp as steel. He locks eyes with the Secretary before he continues, making each word precise and clear. "Thor will not be allowed to stay on this planet and that means his position in the Avengers is null and void. That's fine, it just means that our team will be down one member and we'll be left at a disadvantage. Given a few rough missions, we might begin to slip, make some mistakes, because we're not at full capacity. Eventually these mistakes become too large to ignore and the Avengers will disband entirely." Steve glances at Fury briefly who, even though surprised at the soldier's audacity, doesn't say anything to interrupt him.
Steve continues, turning his attention to the stack of files on the table in front of Fury instead. "Tony always says he works better alone anyway and Clint and Natasha could just as easily be swept up by S.H.I.E.L.D again and sent back out into the field. Bruce could go back to his work as a doctor and to be honest I think I've had enough of this whole hero business for one lifetime. My time was in the 40s, not here and not now; I'm fighting for a time period that isn't even my own." Steve turns to face the Secretary fully now, his face a neutral mask. "Oddly similar to Thor's predicament, wouldn't you say? He's not even from this planet, not even from this galaxy, and he came back to defend it and protect it. He's one of the strongest warriors I've ever seen and he actually wants to fight for this planet and you're telling him no. You're throwing him out like a vagrant to the streets."
"Mr. Rogers, your insubordination will-"
"This country is in shambles!" Steve bursts out suddenly, glaring at the Secretary with dark eyes. "We're having more problems financially and globally than anyone can account for. This country, this planet, needs all the help it can get and you're turning down one of the few men stepping up to do the job. We've already seen the damage that one interstellar attack could bring but that threat hasn't diminished. If anything, its only made it worse because now our planet has become a target. We need Thor on our team; he's a good man and a strong fighter and he wants to be here more than anything. I can assure you if you get rid of him now, it will be one of the biggest mistakes you'll ever make."
The Secretary's eyes narrow and he rounds on Steve with the same ferocity the younger man had just shown him. "Are you threatening me, Mr. Rogers?"
Steve squares his shoulders slightly and stands straighter, answering the Secretary with calculated calmness. "No sir. I'm simply telling you that we work better as a team and if you take away one of us, you take away all of us. Get rid of Thor and you're getting rid of the Avengers."
For a moment, the Secretary is speechless, eying Steve carefully like he's trying to determine whether or not he's bluffing. He glances to Fury, whose expression has never changed, and then to Thor who looks equal parts shocked and stunned into silence like he is. Obviously neither of them had expected this kind of ultimatum from Captain America himself but neither were putting up any kind of resistance to it either. Fury might have some qualms about disbanding the Avengers but he had the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D to run on top of keeping the ragtag group of heroes in line so maybe dropping one or the other wouldn't affect him as much as previously thought. It was a well known fact that most of the members of the Avengers hadn't come together because they wanted to, they were called together for a greater purpose and were forced to work with one another under extraordinary circumstances. True, there was camaraderie among their team now but the Secretary had no doubt they'd scatter to the winds if there wasn't a binding force. At this moment in time, Thor seemed to be that binding force, the one at risk of being lost not only from their team but from this planet as well, and Steve was taking all or nothing in this matter.
The Secretary grinds his teeth together so tightly his jaw aches and he continues to glare at Steve who meets his gaze with equal determination. The Secretary knew his decision couldn't be so brash as to simply disband the Avengers with the wave of his hand; the president and the majority of the country loved them. If he ordered their separation, he'd be digging his own grave. He may not think the world needed the Avengers but the rest of the world certainly did and he couldn't run that kind of risk. "Mr. Rogers," he says slowly, the words coming out tight and strained from between his clenched jaws. "You have to understand that this is not a simple matter of saying who stays and who goes. Thor is not from this planet, he's an alien in every sense of the word."
"Asgardian," Thor corrects from behind him but the Secretary helpfully ignores him.
"Allowing him to stay would jeopardize every level of government in the country. There would have to be new laws written, an entire department set up to deal strictly with interstellar affairs, and this country doesn't have the budget to do that. There is simply no precedent that-"
"Then make one," Steve replies simply with a shrug of his shoulders. "Mr. Secretary, you hold one of the highest positions in this office, you have the power to organize a committee or department or whatever it is to handle matters like this."
"And how would you suggest we-"
"I'll handle the affairs until you can think of something," Fury speaks up, standing up from his end of the table and meeting the Secretary's eyes. "My team is trained for every kind of threat and combat imaginable, even some unimaginable, and we can more than handle the screening of interplanetary immigrants."
The Secretary looks between the two of them, his jaw still set in a hard line. He can feel the vein in this temple throbbing and the onset of a migraine beginning to take hold at the base of his skull. He has more important things to worry about than playing tug of war with a group of superheroes and their handler. If Fury wants to handle the goings in and out of this planet and all the celestial threats it brings with it then let him handle it. When the world becomes enslaved by giant insects though, he doesn't want anyone to come crying to him. "Fine," he growls, sliding the folder across the table to Fury. "Its your problem now. But I warn you, Nick," his eyes level on Fury's and his voice is hard and solid like a brick wall. "You keep them in line or I will. And you won't like my methods." Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Fury sighs and stands slowly, gathering the folder under one arm and digging his other hand into his pocket. "You said some pretty bold things just now, Rogers. Things that would get most men court marshaled."
Steve finally has the decency to look a little bit embarrassed and glances down at the table, all the anger and indignation he'd fought with earlier leaving him like a gust of wind. "Sorry sir, but they needed to be said."
Fury just smirks and nods, walking toward the door. "That they did, soldier, that they did. Keep yourselves out of trouble, I expect to see both of you at the debriefing tomorrow morning."
"Yes, sir." Steve stands at attention until Fury exits the room and then turns to find himself face-to-face with Thor.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Thor begins, his voice showing the confusion as much as his expression is. "I am being allowed to stay?"
Steve just smiles and pats him on the shoulder. "Yeah, big guy, you get to stay. You're one of us now; you can't get out of this job that easily."
Thor's face breaks into a wide grin and he suddenly captures Steve is a back-breaking hug, squeezing him hard enough to make the smaller man gasp slightly. "This is truly a glorious day! Thank you, my brother! I can never repay my debt to your kindness!"
Steve gasps again and pats his arm. "You could let me breathe." Thor sets him down then but doesn't break contact with him, both hands still clamped firmly on Steve's shoulders. He's grinning so wide its nearly comical and Steve finds himself grinning back. "Come on, big guy. Let's go home."
OOOOO (+1. Steve)
There's a brief moment when Steve thinks its Tony standing in the middle of the room and that split second of hesitation proves to be his downfall. Before he can react, the figure is instantly in front of him, swinging at him with enough force to level a brick wall. Steve manages to step back and avoid the first blow but the surprise of the attack and the similarities of the suit catch him off guard and the figure uses it to his advantage, throwing another blow that catches Steve across the jaw and sends him sprawling to the floor. The impact is jarring and sudden and all the air gets knocked out of Steve's lungs in a single whoosh. He gasps out painfully, reaching up and gingerly touching his jaw, wincing at the swelling already beginning to form. Its not broken, not yet at least, but its going to hurt like hell for a few days.
The figure is on him again then, towering over him in a six foot tall suit of armor. Steve dodges the foot making a direct arc at his head and rolls onto his feet again, keeping as much distance between himself and the figure as possible. The suit is eerily similar to Tony's but it lacks the finesse and careful details the billionaire put into it; this one looks clunky and heavy, not the weightless design Tony prided himself on. The colors are all off too, gunmetal grey and chrome replacing the seamless red and gold, and there's not a glowing blue arc reactor in the chest plate. There's not a man in that suit, its nothing but sentient armor that seems pretty dead set on taking him down as quickly as possible.
And its fast, quicker than Steve would have ever given it credit for due to its design. It moves across the room so fast Steve barely has time to react before the blows are being exchanged again. He staggers back, blocking, deflecting, avoiding, but he can't get a hit in edgewise and before he realizes it, his back is against the wall. He holds his ground for about five more minutes before the first blow catches him in the side of the head hard enough to make his vision go dark for a moment. The second blow hits him in the chest, the third in the ribs, and the fourth brings him to his knees. He loses count after the sixth.
"I must say I'm disappointed, Captain," a heavily accented voice vibrates through the metal suit, chuckling darkly at the gasping man on the floor. "I expected much more fight out of you."
Steve coughs and gags, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the broken tiles. The crimson spray is bright against the white marble and Steve winces as he spits out another mouthful to avoid choking on it. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, hot and slippery and tasting of copper, and drips into perfect little circles on the ground beneath him. He's honestly not sure how much of the blood is from the split lip or the broken nose but it doesn't really matter, everything hurts about the same anyway. "Who are you…?" He gasps out, the effort of breathing making three cracked, maybe broken, ribs rub together painfully.
The suit takes a step forward and kicks him onto his back. Yep, definitely broken now. "Isn't it obvious, Captain Rogers?"
Steve winces and coughs. "Ngh…probably but you'll have to enlighten me…because right now all I see is a tin can standing on two legs."
That comment earns him another kick and he's suddenly lifted by the front of his suit and thrown across the room and through a wall. He lands in the heap of rubble with a gasp and counts at least two new broken bones, one in his arm and another down lower in his leg.
"I am the new generation of hero," the suit explains, taking a step through the wreckage of the wall and coming into Steve's line of sight. Or one of them; he's seeing triple right now so the figure could literally be anywhere. "Your time has past, you are becoming obsolete. The world needs to understand that many of their favored heroes are destined to age, get injured, and die in battle. Despite your powers, your abilities, your strengths," the figure continues, coming to a stop next to Steve and prodding his broken leg painfully. "You're still all too human. Its time they see that the only way to truly love a hero is for that hero to never die. To be invincible. To be like this."
Steve groans, broken ribs grinding together with each breath. "So…you became the villain to become the hero…? That is so lame…" He lashes out before the figure can react and slings his shield, aiming directly for the suit's head. It's a straight shot, no way he can miss, the shield is going too fast…
The figure swats the shield to the side like its little more and an annoying insect and the metal disc goes careening out into the demolished lobby. He grabs another handful of Steve's suit and lifts him up only to slam him into the ground again. Steve's vision darkens briefly as his brain rattles around in his head like a maraca.
"Your efforts are useless, Captain," the figure continues calmly like he's explaining a difficult homework problem to a child. "Do you see this?" He points to a small disc at the waist of the suit, the light reflecting off the surface like glass. "This disc measures the force you exert with each attack and translates it into raw power inside the suit. One punch from you is magnified by one hundred in this suit." The figure chuckles softly like its an inside joke only he understands. "I borrowed a few of Mr. Stark's designs and made them my own. I think they're proving to be quite useful."
Steve coughs and spits blood again. "I like Tony's suit better…" The figure is pummeling him again and Steve figures out that yes, the blows are about one hundred times more powerful than his own. He wonders how the others are doing with the mini doom bots that had been unleashed on the city; he hopes they're having better luck than he is right now. He figures they should probably have a team meeting about the whole "buddy system" approach to battles; there are six of them, enough to be evenly paired off, but for some reason they always manage to get separated from one another. Divide and conquer tends to be most villain's method of attack and they fall for it every time. They really should talk about that. Steve figures he should dwell on that more when he's not being kicked in the head.
The figure stops suddenly and drops to one knee, metal hands grabbing Steve by the throat and lifting him off the ground slightly. "You'll see, it will all be so much better now."
Steve blinks though he can only really see out of one eye; blood is flooding the other eye from a gash somewhere high up on his forehead and obstructing his vision. The hands are tightening around his throat, his own hands clawing at them weakly but making little difference, and what little vision he has left is beginning to fade from lack of oxygen. Steve's never been one to go out quietly though and gathers one more mouthful of blood and spits it onto the faceplate of the suit. Its shiny and red against the spotless chrome and drips down like oil off of glass. Steve gives him a bloody grin.
"Goodbye, Captain America," the figure growls irritably and the hands close off his airway completely.
There's a sharp blast from somewhere off to the left and the figure is knocked the side, releasing his hold on Steve and crashing into an adjacent wall. Steve takes a deep, gasping breath and lays there staring up at the ceiling. He has no idea what just happened but he's too injured to move at the moment; everything hurts and his vision keeps drifting in an out with his failing consciousness. He's lost track of the injuries in his body but he knows they must be at least semi-severe if the pain is anything to go by; absolutely everything hurts and throbs in time with his heartbeat. He can hear voices somewhere up above him but they're far off and garbled like static over a radio frequency. The figure is standing again, still towering over him, but he's not looking at him anymore, he's looking instead toward the front of the building.
"Step away from him," a deep voice growls from the front of the building, vibrating the room like thunder. "Or your next move will be your last."
Steve raises his head just enough to see four blurry figures standing in the opening left by the collapsed wall. He tries to smile but all that comes out is a grimace and he lets his head drop back down onto the floor.
Thor is standing in the front, his hammer clenched tightly in one hand and his eyes locked on the crumpled figure of Steve behind the suit. The air around him crackles with electricity and smells like raw ozone before a storm. Tony is hovering just beside him, analyzing the suit of armor quickly while keeping both of his hands trained on the figure in case he tries to make a move toward Steve again. Clint and Natasha are on either side of them, both weapons trained on the suit as well and glaring at him with cold calculation.
"Ah, Mr. Stark," the figure greets them, the voice filtering through the walls of metal sounding positively delighted. "I'm so glad you could join us to see the fruits of my labor. It is, after all, a product of your genius."
Tony frowns, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. "You stole the designs of my suit, beat our super soldier to within an inch of his life, and you expect me to be impressed?"
"Well, yes."
"Sorry, pal, but its not doing much for me." Tony doesn't give the figure a chance to respond before he fires another blast and catches the suit in the chest. It flies backwards, away from Steve, and lands heavily on the already broken tiles. Clint and Natasha move in immediately, dropping down beside Steve and Thor steps in front of them, keeping himself between their broken captain and the figure who put him there.
"How is he?" Thor asks, glancing behind his shoulder at the two assassins crouched beside their fallen captain.
Clint frowns at the extent of Steve's injuries, running his hands over the soldier's arms and chest to feel for broken bones. His frown deepens when he finds several. "Not great…he has some broken bones. That much is certain." Thor growls at the response, low and deep in his throat like a caged animal, and the air around him crackles with static. Steve makes some kind of noise of protest in the back of his throat and Clint feels his resolve start to fall a bit. "Sorry, Cap…" he mutters, lightening his touch just slightly as his fingers slide over a few broken ribs.
Natasha is right beside him, her hands cupping Steve's face gently and keeping him from moving too much. She shushes him softly a few times, alternating between peering into Steve's face with concern and shooting blistering glares at the suit of armor standing a few feet away. She pulls the blood soaked cowl away from his face, revealing bruises and scrapes beneath. Steve's eyes are closed but he's nowhere near unconscious, his mouthing moving and forming soundless words that she can't understand. She starts to lean closer but then Steve is trying to push himself back up and she places both hands on his shoulders to keep him down. "Easy, Cap," she whispers, swiping blood away from his eyes with her thumb. "Just stay still, okay?"
Steve is still mumbling but the words are a bit clearer. "Disc…" he gasps out, his teeth stained crimson and garish with blood. "Disc…"
Natasha frowns, looking up at Clint for clarification. "Disc?" Clint mirrors her confusion and looks back toward the suit, scanning it up and down for any indication as to what Steve is talking about. His eyes land on the disc at the armor's waist and he frowns. "Tony, there's something about that disc on the suit."
Tony simply nods. "I got it." He takes a step forward as the suit of armor stands to greet him. It looks like his earlier models, heavy and bulky with glaring structural errors and lots of room for improvement. Still, he has to at least dish out some credit for sheer effort; he knows first hand how hard it is to build those suits. However, his admiration stops there because Steve is lying bleeding and broken just a few feet behind him and that is completely unacceptable. "So what were you hoping to accomplish here? Fame? Glory? You think people would be happy to learn that you beat Captain America to death in the lobby of an office building?"
"The Captain's life matters little to me. The power of this suit, the success of your design, is my only concern," the figure answers back simply, shrugging as if this was all some big game. "You should be proud; I took your designs and perfected them! As you can see, the power exhibited in this suit is far superior to your earlier designs even without the use of the arc reactor. This disc was a product of my own design," the suit gestures to the disc at the waist proudly. "It makes this suit almost indestructible, absorbing the energy from the environment around it and projecting it back onto the person inflicting the damage. For a small fee I could teach you how to make one."
Tony feels a flush of rage wash through him at the figure's brashness. First, for suggesting that he would ever work with him after whoever this was blatantly stole his designs and produced them for his own purposes and second, for showing so little regard for the life of his teammate. He doesn't know who this person was, how they had gotten the designs in the first place, or even what they planned to use them for. What he does know is that if they had been even a minute later, this man would have snapped Steve's neck like a twig. Forgery and insulted intelligence aside, the fact that he would have killed Steve without a second thought is what sets Tony's mind on the figure's destruction.
"So that disc absorbs energy but what happens if it gets damaged?" He asks, stepping closer to the suit and eying it up and down carefully.
"Damaging this disc would be highly unlikely, Mr. Stark," the figure responds coolly, flippantly like it's a ridiculous idea to even indulge. "This suit is virtually indestructible and as long as the suit is intact and the disc is mounted to it, the armor cannot be destroyed."
"You said 'virtually indestructible' but not completely," Tony corrects, his eyes locking on a small patch of metal just to the right of the figure's left arm. "You seem to forget that you stole my suit design and I know where all the weak spots are, the chinks in the armor." Before the figure can block the attack, Tony fires a blast at the patch near the arm, piercing the metal effortlessly and knocking the arm of the suit completely off.
The suit staggers backwards, stunned by the attack, and the voice is surprised. "What are you doing! You're destroying it!"
"Yep, that's exactly my plan," Tony answers with a shrug, firing another blast and taking out the knee of the right leg. The figure tumbles to the ground and raises its arm in attack, the palm of the hand glowing with energy. It fires a blast at Tony, who easily sidesteps the attack, and casually blasts the other leg out from under it. "You also seem to forget that this was one of my earlier models and has long since become obsolete. Your movements are slow and spastic compared to mine; the suit I have on now is easily ten times more advanced than yours. Go ahead, keep fighting back; I could do this all day."
The figure tries to fire once more but the shot goes wide and crumbles a wall close to the front door. Tony dodges each attack easily, countering with his own that cause infinitely more damage to the suit before him. Finally it crashes to the ground and is in such a state of disrepair that it doesn't even attempt to rise again. "You idiot!" The voice cries from inside the suit. "You dense, simplistic moron! What have you done!"
"Just taking out the trash," Tony answers coolly, glancing back toward Steve. The soldier is barely conscious, his eyes half-lidded and glassy, but he meets Tony's eyes for a second and gives a very brief nod. Tony nods back in response and turns back to the suit. "You want to know the biggest issue with this suit? The reason why it failed?" Tony kneels down so he's eye level with the suit even though there's no one looking back. "You sent it after him," he jerks his thumb in Steve's direction, his voice hollow and flat from behind his faceplate. "You take on Captain America and you take on all of the Avengers."
A deafening roar rumbles the floor and seconds later, the Hulk lumbers into the lobby, walls and flooring crumbling in his wake. He takes one look over at Clint and Natasha crouched protectively over Steve, takes in the sight of the man in blue crumpled and bleeding on the floor, and lets out another wall shaking roar.
Tony just smirks behind his mask as he looks at the expressionless face of the suit of armor on the ground. "I wonder if you thought to make your suit Hulk-proof? I know I certainly did."
"Stark, wait!" The voice cries from inside the suit, desperation creeping through at the acknowledgment of its imminent destruction. "I only did this to help you; to help all of mankind! Human heroes are weak; the break, they die, they get old. I was trying to change that! You and I are more alike that you think, we could be of use to one another! We could be heroes together; the world needs heroes like this!"
Tony glares at the suit and flips his mask back, looking straight into the human-less eyes coldly. "You and I are nothing alike, we stopped being alike the second you put your hands on him." He stands then, taking a step backwards and putting a large distance between himself and the suit on the ground. "The world needs heroes like him, not you, and I'm here to tell you that if you ever come near Captain America or any member of the Avengers ever again, a broken suit will be the absolute least of your worries."
"Stark! Wait a minute! Hear me out-!"
"Sorry, your call is being ignored and cannot be completed as dialed. Please try again never." Tony turns his attention to the Hulk and nods. "You know what to do, big guy."
Without needing anymore encouragement, Hulk lumbers over to the suit and effortlessly tears it to shreds, dropping chunks of metal limbs to the ground like litter. Thor joins him, ripping the disc away from the suit and easily crushing it with his hammer, the disc reduced to nothing more than a shimmery powder on the ground by the time he's finished. The voices inside the suit die off quickly, still pleading for Tony's attention, but none of them are listening. The Hulk grabs the torso of the suit and wads it between his hands, crumpling it like a ball of paper and letting it drop to the ground in a twisted pile of scrap metal.
Tony walks over to where Steve is still on the ground, crouching down beside him and flipping up his mask to peer down at him. "Hey super soldier, how you feeling?"
Steve blinks up at him blearily, his grasp on consciousness held on by spider's silk, but he manages a faint smile. "Like I've been hit by a train…"
"Yeah, well you kinda look like it too."
"You're suit is better…"
"Damn right it is, and don't you ever forget it," Tony smiles and very gently squeezes Steve's shoulder.
Thor appears at his side a few seconds later, dropping down to one knee and brushing blood away from Steve's forehead with his hand. "You fought valiantly, Steven. Your efforts were commendable."
Steve laughs but it sounds painful; Natasha cards her fingers through his hair slowly in a soothing gesture. "My body doesn't appreciate my efforts…but thanks."
Hulk approaches next, vibrating the ground with each step he takes. He remains standing, breathing heavily and hoarsely like he would love nothing more than the beat the absolute hell out of something else but resigning to the fact that its over for the time being. He glares down at Steve, his expression unreadable behind the rage that fills his eyes, but he recognizes that Steve isn't an enemy. That's enough for now.
Tony looks up at him, taking in his expression and the recognition in his eyes. "Come on, big guy. Let's get him home."
Hulk nods wordlessly and stoops down, carefully picking Steve up off the ground and carrying him with more gentleness than he seemed capable of. 'Cradling' wouldn't be the correct word but he held Steve close, protectively against his body in a way that made it clear that anyone who wanted to get to him would have to go through a very large, angry Hulk first. That would take some explaining when it came to the medics that were surely going to swarm them the minute they got back to the helicarrier but it could wait. The others followed silently, circling around Hulk on either side and keeping Steve in the middle. They were all in this together now and that's how it was going to stay.
Ahhh, I love protective!team fluff! :D Hope you all liked it!