I'm in the gym, late at night. I'm throwing Steve's shield around, trying to master the whole multiple-takedown thing he does on the rubber dummies. The shield is surprisingly light, even for me. So far, I've managed to break a window. I told everyone it was some dumb kids outside throwing rocks. More like one dumb kid throwing around Captain America's shield. And firing Clint's arrows. Secretly, at night.
I hear a door open. Crap.
"Hell-ooo?" Bruce calls.
Instead of playing it cool, I manage to fling the shield in a way that causes it to smack me directly in the forehead. I take it back when I said it was surprisingly light.
"OOOOWWWWWWWW!" I yell. No use hiding what I'm doing now. I'm on the ground, clutching my throbbing head, with the shield still in my hand.
"Um...Beth? What are you doing?" Bruce asks as he kneels down in doctor mode, examining my forehead.
"Well, sometimes I like to come down here and practice with your weapons because it makes me feel cool. Like a superhero. Like someone who can make a difference." I glance at Bruce, his face struggling not to show the laughter I see in his eyes. "Cheesy, I know. But, I've gotten pretty good. I mean, I'm almost always accurate when I use the bow on the moving targets. And I can't remember the last time I dropped the shield during a throw. I have a problem, don't I?"
"I don't think so. You're just a kid playing with the older kid's toys. Although your head has the makings of a nasty bruise. So, you'll probably have to explain that them." He answers.
"Dang it. Should I tell them now? Or tomorrow morning?" I ask. "Wait, no question. I would be a lab experiment if I interrupted Tony's beauty sleep." I say.
"No doubt about it. Wait until the morning. Over an amazing homemade breakfast. I can help." he replies.
"Good idea." I compliment as I set the shield back on its hook and turn the gym lights off.
