Author's note: Hello! I've been wanting to write a story like this for awhile, so I came up with how would the Avengers-all of them-interact in regular society? On a stealth mission? This is what resulted. Have fun. :) I did!
Tony Stark—Ironman, self-proclaimed Playboy Billionaire Philanthropist—slurped on an oversized iced coffee from Starkbucks and Clint Barton tried to ignore him. Most of Stark's expression was hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses, tinted caramel brown with silver frames. They matched the color of his suit and contrasted the purple of his necktie. As always, Stark dressed as confident as he was. He slurped coffee again through a bright green straw, purposefully loud. Barton narrowed his eyes.
"You'd think after all the times we've done this, you'd be able to take it seriously," he said.
Stark didn't respond, still drinking. In the seat beside Barton, Natasha Romanoff scoffed and folded her arms across her chest.
"You would think," she muttered.
Barton smirked. He looked across the table at Steve Rogers, who appeared somewhat subdued in a plain hooded sweatshirt. He'd been called from the gym to meet in the up with them in the briefing room. Barton understood all too well the look of subtle annoyance on the Captain's face; he himself had been enjoying the first dream he'd had in weeks before his cell phone unwillingly jolted him from the warm, sunny beach he'd been on. A private beach, with a cooler full of good beer within reach and a turquoise ocean in front of him…
The briefing room was exactly the opposite: steel everywhere, bulkheads visible, flashing computer screens and scrolling numbers. There were no windows. There were never any windows in rooms like this.
Dr. Bruce Banner stood a few feet behind Barton, studying the data outputs with a frown on his face. He, unlike Stark, seemed interested in what they were doing. Barton figured that made sense, being Banner loved the lab and it was hell trying to get him out of it.
"What's this about?" he asked. "Does anyone know?"
Stark's eyebrows appeared from behind his sunglasses but he kept silent, still drinking the iced coffee. Barton moved to say something, but Natasha beat him to it. She was good at that.
"Would you happen to know anything, Stark?"
He cleared his throat and set aside the near-empty cup.
"Yes," he said. "I know that I have to pee."
A deep chuckle sounded from the other side of the room. Barton made a face; Thor was no help in the fight against Stark. They always egged each other on if it came down to it. Rogers wasn't much help, either. Ironically, Bruce was usually the mediator. And as usual, Barton sat back and watched it all play out. It was more fun that way.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Stark," a familiar, commanding voice said. "But you should've thought of that before you brought a damn iced coffee into my briefing room."
Nick Fury strode into view, his visible eye narrowed in disapproval. Barton was relieved, knowing Stark would probably cut out the whole "annoyed child routine." Probably. Fury stood at the center of their table and dropped a collection of file folders on to the pristine surface.
"And no one is leaving until you've all been thoroughly debriefed," he added.
Stark shrugged. "Fine, I'll hold it. I made myself a heart; kidneys should be a cinch."
Natasha rolled her eyes. Rogers hung his head and washed his hands over his face. Barton pursed his lips.
"Is there a reason you're being so damn difficult?" he asked.
Stark opened his mouth to say something, but Fury's voice answered instead.
"Yes, Agent Barton, there is a reason." He hit a button on one of the touch screens and the lights dimmed. The screens lit up around them with various images. Thor, even after everything he'd seen, still found computers to be the most intriguing. He sank into a chair and stared along with them.
Barton frowned. He recognized the man in most of the pictures—very tall and very large. Most of the man's bulk was muscle despite his size; this was evident in his thick neck and meaty hands. But age had rounded his muscles and his stature. Still, Barton wouldn't have liked to piss him off.
"Wilson Fisk," he said. "I thought SHIELD cleared him a few years ago."
"A few years ago he was clean. But recent events have caught our attention and proved otherwise," Fury replied.
Stark cleared his throat, staring at the images from over top his sunglasses. Fury sighed.
"Three nights ago, one of Mr. Stark's personal trust funds was hacked. It wasn't easy, but we managed to trace the culprit to one of Fisk's employees, Alistair Smythe."
The Avengers stared at Stark. He held up his hands. Barton looked at him crookedly.
"How much was stolen?" he asked.
Stark hesitated. "…about $100 million."
"Well, $100 million isn't a lot at all," Rogers scoffed, shaking his head.
"Regardless," Fury continued, stopping the argument before it could happen, "one of our own is in need and it is our requirement to help. Fisk and Stark are not exactly friends to begin with and starting with this theft, we think Fisk might be targeting him."
"What's the reason?" Natasha wanted to know.
Stark straightened up in his chair and took off his sunglasses.
"Fisk invested in Oscorp at the time Stark Industries was trying out alternative energies. This was back in the sixties when people were worried Dad was going the hippy route."
"But Howard Stark invented the arc reactor then," Bruce said.
Tony grinned. "And all Oscorp could fall back on was weapons and information technology. Fisk lost a ton of money ignoring clean energy and apparently he's taking it out on me."
"But Fisk isn't a global or even a local threat; he's just a business man." Barton held up his hand to stop Stark from saying something. "Granted, it sucks he's stealing your money, but can we prove he's using it for bad intentions?"
Fury hit another button and several weapons flashed cross the screens, most of which Barton had never seen before. Nearly everything in the briefing sessions was classified, and it didn't surprise him to see something he'd never seen. It merely made him a little nervous; made his hands itch for a weapon of his own.
"Oscorp is similar to what Stark Industries once was, only they have become a leading weapons manufacturer, outdoing Hammer Industries, which went bankrupt last year. Supposedly, they don't outsource their weapons, but we have information that says otherwise. Fisk seems to have had a say in some of those transactions," Fury explained.
"You said seems," Natasha said, the hint of a smirk curving her lips. "That means we don't have enough to arrest him, do we?"
Fury smiled. "Fisk does a great deal of charity work. He has several charity business and shelters throughout the city."
"You're not answering my question, sir," Natasha replied.
"You didn't let me finish, Agent Romanoff. It seemed very suspicious for us when we learned that a series of Colombian banks had been robbed—sometimes destroyed—a few weeks before Fisk donated any money. You know as well as I it's all a front; money laundering and everything in between. If he'd been going after cartel controlled property, maybe we'd have turned a blind eye. But there were American interests involved."
"Namely Stark's technology," Barton said. "Jeezus."
"Precisely," Fury answered with a nod. "We'd been testing a few things down there, mainly for security. The trouble with trying to pin this on Fisk is that he's good at covering his tracks."
Barton pursed his lips. He knew it was a big deal if Stark's personal funds had been hacked; until then, he'd thought it virtually impossible for JARVIS to be compromised. Fury reached into the pocket of his trench coat as he spoke.
"Oscorp HQ is located here in New York City. They've been running their own clean energy experiments and want to exhibit them to the public."
He tossed something on to the table. Barton raised his eyebrows as several white envelopes spread across the smooth counter.
"You've all been invited to the 5th Annual Oscorp Charity Ball."
Barton took the envelope, brushing away the black glitter lining the edges. He frowned, recognizing his name on the invitation in looping script.
Clint Barton:
Join us for a wonderful evening!
Socialize and celebrate as we honor the journey
Of Oscorp Corporations into an environmentally sound institution.
There will be drinks, food and demonstrations.
Please note that this will be a black and white affair
And dress as is appropriate.
Barton scowled. "We're going in civvies for this?"
"Why do I read Thomas Robertson as my name?" Thor asked, trying to rub the glitter from his hands.
Stark shrugged. "Well, 'Thor' would kind of make it obvious we're all going to be there, so…"
"You are all going to report to this event and see what Fisk is up to," Fury told them, his voice rising over theirs again. "He is going to make a donation and we're damn certain he's going to use Stark's money for it. I really don't want to directly fund terrorism, lady and gentlemen, do you?"
They remained silent. Fury leaned forward over the table, gripping one of the empty chairs. "Now, being that Fisk is going to use Stark's money, that means he will have it there to make the transfer directly to Norman Osborne, the CEO of Oscorp. I want you to stop that from happening as quietly as possible."
Barton sighed and looked around at his fellow Avengers. Stark was waiting, clearly annoyed and, Barton noticed, slightly worried. Thor was still trying to get glitter off his hands, Rogers frowned at his invitation, and Bruce rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Natasha looked back at him and arched her eyebrow.
"With all due respect, sir," Barton said. "This doesn't seem like a job for all of us."
Rogers nodded. "I agree. I'm all for stopping this man but this seems too complicated to involve all of us."
"And—no offence to you, gentlemen—but stealth isn't really Thor or Ironman's specialty," Natasha added.
"Oh, so it's the Hulk's?" Stark countered, straightening up in his seat.
Natasha scowled. "At least Dr. Banner won't blow our cover by blasting AC/DC out of every available speaker."
"Um, that's battle strategy, honey."
Thor laughed. "You have much to learn about the battlefield."
Barton ran his hands over his face. It had been a long time since they'd bickered like this. A headache was beginning to pulse behind his eyes and he shot to his feet.
"Yes, this is a stealth mission, so we need to do things a little differently. That doesn't mean we can't function like a team because we have to be quiet about it."
"Which is exactly why I've selected Agent Barton to lead this mission," Fury announced, tucking his hands behind his back. "He knows how to handle this particular type of situation."
Barton stared. The Avengers stared back. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Son of a bitch…"