Clint was always the first one awake at Stark Tower. Tony had made modifications to accommodate the needs of the entire team, making the Tower much more convenient and comfortable than S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters. Clint grabbed his bow and sheath of arrows, all but inhaled a bowl of cereal, and took the elevator down to the indoor archery and shooting range Stark had installed.
He entered the large room in silence and set himself up. He strung an arrow, took a deep breath, let fly, and—
Missed. Clint missed the target. Not only did he fail to hit the bull's-eye, but the arrow flew straight over the top of the target and bounced off the metal enforced wall. Clint's mouth dropped open in shock, an expression he rarely conveyed, and he blinked hard. He stared at the fallen arrow.
"Okay," he breathed, "alright. Maybe I'm just tired." He restrung, took a deep breath, let fly, and—
Missed again.
"What the hell?" Madame Penelope's words were coming back to him.
"Tomorrow, when you wake, you will be, not yourselves, but each other."
"No way," he whispered. Clint sprinted out of the range and up the stairs, bypassing the elevator in his panic. He had never run so fast in his life. Literally, Clint didn't think he could run so fast. He cleared the three stories and skittered to a stop in the kitchen without breaking a sweat.
"Jarvis?" he said to the air.
"Yes, Master Clint, how may I help you?" responded the AI in its calm British accent.
"Wake the others," he commanded, grabbing the cereal box from earlier. God, he was hungry. "Tell them to meet me in the kitchen immediately."
"Certainly, sir."
Natasha dreamed of being in handcuffs. She felt the cold metal on her wrists, secure and unyielding, saw the blank faces of the agents, just as cold, just as unyielding, heard them saying, "you're coming with us."
Natasha woke up in handcuffs. No, that wasn't quite right, there was no chain, but she could feel the cold metal clamped around her wrists. She tugged on them, trying to pull them over her hands, but they were too tight. They looked like a set of matching bracelets. She pulled the sheets around her more tightly and tried to remember putting them on, or having them put on her.
"Miss Natasha," began Jarvis politely.
"Yes, Jarvis?"
"Master Clint requests your presence in the kitchen. He says it is a matter of most urgency."
"Okay, tell him I'll be right there." Natasha was already rolling out of bed and pulling on her jumpsuit. Clint wouldn't wake her up unless there was a problem. She stashed a knife in her boot and headed out.
She continued to pull on the bracelet things as she walked into the kitchen. They would not come off, no matter how hard she tugged. She was greeted by a tired looking Steve, a panicked Clint (she had known him long enough to see the cracks in his composed face, and he in hers), and an ecstatic Thor.
"Friend Natasha!" called Thor, placing an amiable hand on her shoulder. She shrugged away, feeling it was too early to deal with human contact, but the demi-god was unabashed. "I am able to see all, much further and clearer than before! It is most intriguing!"
"What's going on, Clint?" sighed Natasha. Pulling, pulling, pulling at the damn handcuffs. Bracelets, she thought, just bracelets.
"Okay Tasha," said Clint wearily, "you know how I made fun of you for believing in fortune telling yesterday?"
"Yeah…" she said slowly.
"I'm sorry." She stared at him for a minute before chuckling.
"Seriously Clint? Did that old crow's prophecy freak you out?"
"I missed the target at the range this morning Tasha," he whispered harshly, as though embarrassed. "Missed it. Twice!" That peaked Natasha's attention. Clint never missed, no matter what. And with Thor claiming to be able to see everything…
"Alright, so let's assume that this curse thing came true," said Steve, rubbing at his eyes. "Wouldn't it be prudent to next figure out who got who's powers?" Clint nodded and Natasha sighed.
"Certainly I have been given the powers of the man with eyes in likeness to a hawk!" boomed Thor.
"Huh, that's really a mouthful," mused Steve.
"Yeah, maybe you better just call me Clint, Thor."
"Okay, focus guys," said Natasha in exasperation. "Thor has Clint's powers, and with the way Clint is eating, he must either have Bruce's or Steve's."
"Do you feel about ready to kill everything?" came a voice from the doorway. The team looked up to find Bruce staggering in, a bit bedraggled. He was still in his pajamas.
"Nope," said Clint. "Long night in the lab, huh?" Bruce waved off his question and went to put on a pot of tea.
"Alright, you're not me then," he grumbled. "And I'm not me anymore either. I can't feel the Hulk."
"Is that a bad thing or a good thing?" asked Steve.
"Good for me," said Bruce, approaching the group, "bad for whoever ended up with him. Oh, and by the way Natasha, you have Tony's power. Those are the cuffs for the Mark VII."
"Joy," she drawled. "So Clint is Steve, Thor is Clint, and I'm Tony, leaving Tony, Bruce, and Steve to be determined. We still need to figure out who has Thor's power, mine, and Bruce's."
"Right," said Bruce. They stood in silence for a moment before Steve turned to Thor.
"Where's Mjolnir?"
