A/N: So I'm in a fan culture class and one of our assignments was to write a fanfic about one of the required texts. Yes, that's right. I'm in the best class in the world. Suck it.

In Which The Ultimates Establish Themselves as a Casual Force of Mass Destruction

Summary: Nick Fury is tired of these motherfluffing superheroes messing with his motherfluffing budget.

The straw that broke the camel's back was an innocent game. At least it was as innocent as a game played among The Ultimates could be. Pietro had issued the challenge as a way to help Hawkeye get his groove back. Everyone was still feeling the sting of betrayal, but Barton especially had been drowning in his grief. When Hawkeye snapped at Pietro for running onto the firing range it was all too easy to snap back at him.

"Please. You couldn't hit me if you tried. I'm too fast for even your eyes to follow, Primate."

There was a beat, a shared look, and it was on.

It took about a month for things to come to a head. Pietro had spent that time speeding past Clint at every opportunity. Clint had spent that time adjusting his aim and learning to anticipate Pietro's approach. The afternoon Hawkeye finally hit his mark it was a surprise to both of them. Clint stood open-mouthed in shock as the blood gathered and trickled down Pietro's leg to slowly seep into the carpet. Pietro gaze up at Clint.

"Oh…shit. You shot me." They stood gaping at each other for several seconds longer before Pietro burst into maniac laughter. A giggle bubbled up from Clint's chest as he slid down the opposite wall. Their hysterics were quelled by Scarlet Witch's scream when she found them several minutes later.

Nick Fury stalked into the conference room with a scowl on his face and a glare so strong The Ultimates could feel it through his eye patch. Betty Ross trailed after him giving off an air of distaste. Steve moved to sit up a little straighter. Pietro and Hawkeye resolutely did not meet Fury's eye.

"The turbine to our brand new jet. Seven 36-inch ultra HD computer monitors. Twenty-three windows. Six solid oak doors with reinforced steel hinges. Fourteen pieces of piping and a urinal from the seventh floor men's restroom. Fifty feet of carpet outside of the seventh floor men's restroom. Over three hundred feet of tilling in various locations throughout the building. Seventy-five of those new fancy-ass low energy light bulbs. Three mirrors and twelve pieces of rather inspiring Renaissance artwork. Over three dozen pieces of specialized gym equipment. Twenty gallons of plaster and Valspar Federal Office Beige #2 paint. Don't even get me started on the number of wasted arrows and bullets. And, of course, the medical expenses of both Quicksilver and that unlucky new recruit. Anything I missed, Ms. Ross?"

"You forgot about the scotch," Betty replied while adjusting her glasses. Clint visibly flinched. The scotch had been an unfortunate casualty.

"Ah. Yes. And a bottle of scotch, gifted to me by the President, which was older than Rogers."

Fury paused to allow the vast amount of damage to sink in. Pietro somehow managed to sulk while looking bored out of his mind. He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse on the slow motion capture feature on the new security cameras. Steve had assumed his Captain America Look of Disapproval.

"Would you gentlemen like to take a guess about how much this has all cost to replace? I'll give you a hint: More than you can afford."

Thor unleashed a roar of laughter at this news. Jan chose that moment to interrupt Fury's tirade before the Thunder God could remark on the 'fierce competition' his companions had undertaken. Hawkeye decided that Jan was his new favorite person.

"Sir, as entertaining as it is to watch you chew out these two idiots, why are the rest of us here? I don't see why you needed to call a team meeting."

Betty rolled her eyes and directed her answer at the room as a whole.

"Because these two idiots are just the latest in a long string of incidents. Do you have any idea how much damage you lot have inflicted the last month alone? And it hasn't just been around the Triskelion either. There was that incident last week with Steve and the subway turnstiles. There was also the disastrous accident involving Wasp and that old lady's cat. Thor's been causing mayhem to big businesses across the globe. Not to mention the damage control we've had to do for our public image because of Scarlet Witch's latest 'uniform.' Honestly, for a group of supposed heroes, you people are a P.R. nightmare. And now our budget is taking a dive."

This statement was met with shocked silence that slowly filled with an air of shame. Wanda, surprisingly, was the one to speak next.

"I was under the impression that after the terrorist invasion that we single-handedly-"

Clint barely managed to choke back a laugh at Fury's eye twitch.

"-defeated, we were guaranteed whatever amount of funding we required. Some minor accidents shouldn't overshadow all we've accomplished."

"You misunderstand. Our defense and weapons budget is very much intact. Stark Industries is working double time to keep up with our current weapon order. The problem, ladies and gents, is with the Administrative and Living Expenses budgets. The financial department is sick of paying for all the damages you people keep causing."

Clint seemed to have found his voice at last.

"So what, are you kicking us out?"

Fury turned his full attention to the archer. A lesser man may have wet himself in such a situation.

"Yes, Hawkeye. That is exactly what I am doing. The Triskelion will remain the base of operations for S.H.I.E.L.D, but The Ultimates will need to find a new headquarters."

Hawkeye slammed his fist on the table and stood up in rage.

"And just where the hell are we supposed to go? In case you've forgotten, some of us have no other home left."

The door to the conference room swung open and Tony Stark swaggered in. Today he was drinking what appeared to be an extra dirty martini.

"Hello darlings. So sorry for the delay. I had a meeting with the contractor dealing with the repairs to the mansion. We're putting in some fresh mahogany floors. So much easier than scrubbing the blood out. But I'm sure you don't care about that. Someone fill me in. What did I miss?"

Fury looked Stark over appraisingly. His scowl magically transformed into a wide grin. Hawkeye felt his stomach drop. Oh no.

"Oh yes," Fury intoned sweetly. "I do believe our problem has just been solved. Tell me, Mr. Stark, how would you feel about some tenants in that big, empty house of yours?"

The first week in the manor the team managed to ruin: the stair railing, three windows, a dozen books and their accompanying shelves, the refrigerator door, the brand new mahogany floors, seventeen glasses, a microwave, four coffee makers, and the basement.

Tony paid for all of it.