She cuts the engine to her bike, sliding off of it as she tucks her key into her pocket. She pulls off her helmet and runs her fingers through her thick brown hair that now sits somewhat puffy-like against her head. She puts the helmet into her large storage compartment and pulls off her cloth mask and her gloves, stuffing them in there as well as she locks it.
She turns around and walks towards the doors to the restaurant as quickly as possible, flashing a smile at Barnes as he waits by the door for her. They're the first ones there and she's surprised that the Captain didn't ride his own bike to the competition as she's heard that he has one.
"You want to grab a table while I wait for everyone?" she murmurs as she leans against the brick wall. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye and he gives a small nod, pushing off the wall and walking into the restaurant.
It's one of the pricier but popular ones and she's happy that they offered to pay for her as she's a bit tight on money at the moment. While she does receive monthly checks for her disability compensation, it's not nearly enough for her to do anything like eat out as she's saving up for technical school.
Before even joining the military, she was good with machines and guns. Being the only daughter in a family of seven with a father who absolutely loved machines and cars and was always working on them, it's no wonder she came to love them as well. Her mother always told her that she was a Daddy's girl and she has no doubt about that. Even when he's six feet under, she's still a Daddy's girl.
She turns to the car that parks a few spots away from her. It's an orange sports car and very modern, though it's not too much of an interest for her. She's more interested in the classics from the forties and fifties.
She pushes off the wall and walks forward to meet the rest of the Avengers team, a small smile on her face. Her pistol is still strapped to her thigh, but it's covered up by her jacket that is wrapped around her waist. She doesn't really worry about it, though, as it's not a real gun and the magazine only holds a few paintballs.
"Where's Frosty?" Stark asks, waiting for everyone else to get out of the car. She tilts her head to the side and lifts an eyebrow in an amused manner.
"He means Bucky," the Falcon states, crawling out of the back of the car. "This car really isn't meant for five people." He rolls his shoulders a bit as she looks him over with a small smirk, noticing how he specifically shrugged his left shoulder that she hit earlier.
"He went inside to get a table," she says, shooting a smile to the Captain who opens the door for her. "Thanks, Captain."
She scans the place on instinct, noticing the two exits near the bathrooms and the entrance to the kitchen. One of the walls are windows that have blinds and it can be a problem if the place is attacked.
She mentally shakes her head, shrugging off the thought. You're not gonna be attacked. She ducks her head sheepishly as she sees the two previous soldier's eyes on her and shrugs. "Force of habit," she mutters, seeing their understanding gazes.
It takes her barely a second to see Barnes, and she leads the way to him, taking a seat with her back against the wall. It's not her preferred place to sit as Barnes took up the seat in the corner, but it's better than nothing.
She drums her fingers on the table in boredom, trying to keep herself from looking everyone over and assessing them for weaknesses. She looks over at Barnes and raises an eyebrow, feeling his eyes on her. He ducks his head down at getting caught but doesn't stop staring at her.
"So," Falcon drawls out, setting his menu down. "What's your name?" She raises an eyebrow at him and he snorts. "C'mon, you should already know ours, it'd be nice to know yours." A small smirk tilts her lips upwards and she tilts her head to the side and looks him over.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't think I've heard of you," she says in an innocent voice. Her smirk turns into a grin at his baffled and hurt look, ignoring the urge to join in as everyone laughs at him. "I'm joking, but I'd rather you guys introduce yourselves so I don't have to keep calling you by your superhero names." She knows that she didn't provide her name like he asked, but she can't bring herself to care.
She doesn't react to his hurt look and raises an eyebrow at him. He huffs and rolls his eyes. "Sam Wilson," he says, slumping back in his chair, completely at ease. It kinda baffles her how at ease he is with his back to the rest of the restaurant, though she supposes that it comes with practice and he's most likely keeping tabs on everything that's happening behind him, anyway.
She nods at him and tilts her head at the only other female at the table. She has a smirk curling her red lips and she has her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm Natasha. Nice shot, by the way. I didn't expect it." She grins at the red head's praise and shrugs her shoulders, turning to the other assassin.
He gives her a warm mischievous smile, making her narrow her eyes at him slightly. "I'm Clint," he says, providing a hand for her to shake. She eyes it warily and doesn't take it, making him slip off a small devise as he chuckles. At her narrowed eyes, he shrugs. "Worth a shot."
She rolls her eyes and turns to Stark. He's grinning at her. "I like you," he says, making her blink in confusion at him. "Call me Tony. And next time, I'll be the one to take you out." She tilts an eyebrow and flashes her teeth at him in a challenging predatory grin, turning towards the Captain who is sitting next to her. I don't care if he tells me to call him Steve. He's still the Captain in my mind.
"Steve Rogers," he says, providing his hand. She doesn't think twice to grip it with hers and she smiles as she notices that he isn't using any of his strength. He's probably afraid that he's gonna break me, she mentally snorts, knowing that he's old-fashioned like that.
She turns to the soldier last, giving him a cheeky grin. She's surprised when he provides his metal hand for her to shake, but she doesn't hesitate to grab it, letting him know that she's not afraid of it or him. "Bucky," he says, a smile warming his lips. "And you are?"
She lets go of his hand, huffing out an amused breath. "Aurelia, but you can call me Aura." She eyes up the waitress who's swaying her hips too much to be normal and who has the first three buttons of her top left undone, mentally rolling her eyes in annoyance. She does a quick overview of the menu, wandering what to get.
"I've heard that they've got amazing pizza at this place," Bucky says right next to her ear. She turns her head to the side and her gaze flickers down to his menu that's open to the pizza section. "I'm thinkin' of getting the meat-lovers, what about you?"
Her lips quirk up as the waitress asks everyone what they want to order and she hums, looking at one of the pictures. "I'm goin' old school," she mutters, pointing towards the picture of a slice of cheesy pepperoni pizza. "Pepperoni."
He flashes a smile and turns towards the waitress. She's surprised when his eyes don't roam over her body as she heard that he was quite the lady's man back in the thirties and forties. "Can we have a small pizza?" he asks. "Half meat-lovers and half pepperoni?" He turns towards her as he folds up his menu.
"I hope you don't mind," he says sheepishly and her quirked eyebrow. "It's cheaper that way and we get more pizza for it." She just shrugs her shoulders and grins at him, flattered that he ordered for her. She was honestly a little anxious about speaking to the waitress as she suffers from a bit of social anxiety.
"That's fine," she says, handing him her menu as he's right next to the holder. "I have social anxiety so you did me a solid." He flashes her a smile that makes her want to blush, but she ignores it.
"So, Aura," Sam cuts in, drawing her attention away from the soldier. "How long have you been doing paintball?" He's giving her this look that makes her think that he thinks that something's going on between her and the soldier, but she brushes it off.
"I've been doing it for a little over two years," she hums, absentmindedly rubbing her thigh where the silicon socket from her prosthetic is digging into it. "My friend actually kinda forced me to do it." She chuckles and shakes her head in amusement, getting a few curious looks from the team. "He didn't know that I was in the army and that I was a sniper, so he was really confused when I got a panic attack in the middle of the game after shooting someone."
She grins despite the fact that her friend gave her a panic attack, ignoring the confused and concerned looks that a few of the team are giving her. "It didn't take long to get over it as he was actually going to school to be a therapist, so he kinda knew what to do. He kinda connected the dots when I preceded to take out the competition within the next five minutes on my own. That man does not know how to handle a gun."
A few people at the table chuckle, shaking their head in what seems to be agreement. Apparently, they know the feeling of either shocking people or dealing with people who have no clue as to how to use a gun.
"Do you have a code-name?" Tony asks, cocking an eyebrow as he takes a bite of a bread stick. "With skills like yours and with your getup, you've got to have a code-name." She snorts softly and nods her head in amusement.
"I do, actually. It wasn't my choice though," she says, rolling her eyes. "It's pretty easy to guess. Think about it. I wear all black clothing, a mask so no one knows my identity, and I always disappear after matches..." She grins up at them.
"Lemme guess," Sam says, leaning back in his chair and resting his one arm over the back of it. "The Shadow?" She laughs and nods her head, having to bite her hand in order to stop herself from laughing any louder at his completely baffled and shocked look. Apparently, he wasn't expecting to be correct.
"Wait, seriously?" Natasha asks, giving her an incredulous look. "How unoriginal." She snorts softly as she tries to contain her laughs, nodding in agreement.
"Oh, trust me," she says, rolling her eyes as her amusement subsides. "I know." She shrugs. "It doesn't help that I actually went with it. I don't really feel like having anyone know who I am. I like to keep my identity a secret."
"Why?" Clint asks, making her look at him in confusion. He elaborates. "Why keep your skills hidden behind a mask? It's just paintball." Her smile turns a bit dark as she shakes her head at his naivety.
"With my skills, I participate in big matches," she explains. "The bigger the match, the larger the prizes. I've made a few thousand dollars off of those matches on my own and some of the teams get angry that just one person receives the cash. There are a lot of cases where teams have jumped a few players who win prizes, and I honestly don't feel like being taken advantage of. I know how to defend myself, but my leg's a liability."
"People actually get hurt for that?" Steve asks with a frown. She nods her head and his frown deepens. "Has anyone ever tried to attack you?" She shrugs a nod.
"They've never been able to get me out of the field," she says, ignoring their concerned gazes. "I always change my clothes and cover up my leg afterwards so no one knows who I am. But in the matches where there are large expanses of covered areas where no one can see me if I get attacked? Numerous times at the start."
Her grin turns predatory. "Good thing I know how to take care of myself. There's also the fact that they underestimate me for missing half a leg, so it's easy to either knock them out or get someone to realize what's goin' on. It doesn't happen much since I can usually see them before they get to me, but it happens and they go to jail for it." She shrugs off their concerned glances and smiles as her and Buck's pizza is placed in front of them.
She listens as they talk to each other, shifting around in her chair as the silicon keeps biting into her leg. She rubs her thigh a bit and tries to re-position her leg, cussing under her breath as her foot knocks into the table and causes the stump of her leg to ache further.
"You okay there?" Bucky asks her, eyeing her with a small amused frown. She huffs a breath and lifts herself up, moving her hand to grip his shoulder as she stumbles, her foot getting caught. She releases him and sits down again, sighing in relief as the pressure in her leg lessens.
"Sorry," she says, glancing at him with a sheepish smile. "My leg's sore and I can't wait to get home so I can take this prosthetic off." She glares down at the silicon peaking through her shorts. Damn leg.
"I've been meaning to ask you about that," Tony says, setting down his own piece of pizza. Apparently, the Avengers really like pizza since only Natasha and Steve didn't get it. "What's it made out of?" A few people give him a look for asking, but she doesn't mind it. She's proud of it.
"Majority of it is made of steel," she says, positioning herself so she can sit up straight without the socket digging into her leg again. "I used my friend's old 3D printer to print it. I had to get the silicon socket and a few other parts of it from a store, though. I designed it and put it together myself with some input from a doctor for what parts needed to be fortified to support my weight."
"From the look, I got of it, it's really good," Tony says, setting down his pizza slice. "You planning on working with that type of stuff in the future?" She raises her eyebrows, wondering why the Tony Stark is interested in her prosthetic and her plans with it.
She shakes her head. "I'm actually saving up to go to tech school. I wanna get a degree in mechanics among some other things. I like working with machines, specifically cars and some other things. Not really sure what I'm going to do afterward, though?" She shrugs her shoulders, taking another bite of her pizza.
He nods and leans back with a thoughtful look on his face. She finishes her slice of pizza, ignoring the curious gazes on her. She wipes her mouth and sighs, looking over at Sam. Damn, this man has a lot of questions. "Just ask." She holds in a smirk at his sheepish expression.
"How'd that happen?" he asks, nodding downwards towards the general direction of her prosthetic. "You don't have to answer. I'm just curious." She sips some of her water and shrugs her shoulders. She doesn't mind sharing about how she got half of her leg amputated. She's proud of it.
"I blew myself up." At his, and everyone else's disbelieving gazes, she elaborates. "A mission went wrong and we got cornered. I told my squadron to get out of there and I threw a grenade once they were out of the blast radius.
"I managed to get far enough away that I didn't get the brunt of the blast, but some shrapnel caught me in the leg." She tilts her head to the side. "It severed only about a little over half of it, and the medics said that they could have saved it but that I'd have a lot of trouble walking, much more trouble than I have now, so I told them to just cut it off."
She thinks for a few moments. "Thinking about it now, it probably wasn't the best idea at the time, but I honestly did not feel like struggling for about a year until I could walk somewhat and that would have been with a cane. I still ended up using a cane at first, but at least now I can walk. The pain I have now is worth the decision to just cut it off."
Sam whistles lowly. "Damn, girl. You're brave." She just shrugs, grinning shamelessly.