OH MY GOD GUESS WHO SAW AGE OF ULTRON? IT WAS ME! I got an early screening on the 30th! No spoilers, I promise, but it was so good! The action and the comedy was on point. Unfortunately, there was a very shoehorned romance that killed the movie and Natasha's characterization was just...NOT good. And then there were two events of the film that made me want to punch Joss Whedon in the face, not counting the shitty romance and the bad characterization of THE BEST CHARACTER IN MARVEL. Get yo shit together, Whedon! Anyways, thanks debatable-cerealkiller for another review! You really brighten my days on here. And a major thank you to all who followed and favorited. Y'all are the best!

Chapter 10 – Iron and Glass

Cody braked on the curb beside Amy's house at whiplash speed. Amy tumbled from the roof and Cody jumped out of the car to help her up. She stood on her own, deeply in pain but on her own. Cody came to her side anyways. He took one look at her beaten body and sighed. Amy was so bloody. Whether the blood was from her or someone else, he couldn't tell. An eye was swollen underneath a growing bruise. She leaned against him, hunched and favoring one side.

"We shouldn't be here," he spoke into her ear softly. "We could be walking into an ambush."

"My mom could be in there," Amy said as she pushed off of him and walked forward alone. Her voice was far off and vacant. She wasn't truly paying attention to him, Cody knew, and she probably wasn't going to come back to reality at all until she knew her loved ones were safe. Cody figured he should count himself lucky she responded to him at all.

"Amy," he called to her, grabbing her arm in a firm grip. She winced and snatched herself back. "Amy!" Cody stared at her intently. Amy knew his face conveyed one of two things: great concern or great anger. She couldn't tell which.

"What is your problem?" She posed this question softly, genuinely curious and non-rhetorical. Cody paused. He licked his upper lip in apprehension, skittish eyes avoiding meeting her's as he contemplated what he would say next.

"You look like a girl I used to know," he blurted out the answer to a question Amy had left behind in the high-speed chase. His words gushed now and were harsh in whisper. "She was a backstabber. She was a backstabber and you look just like her, Amy. God, you even have the same name as her. That's why I get so angry with you and I act like such a jerk, okay? Because you look like her, and she was a bitch."

Amy blinked in surprise. Cody continued:

"I hate her, but I love you. And you look just like her and I'm just...so confused."

"I'm not her," Amy said, reaching up and cupping his cheek in her palm gently. He pulled away.

"You have no idea how much you're like her," he said and sent a stab of pain into Amy.

"But I love you, Cody," Amy insisted. "I've love you! The very first time I saw you I knew I loved you. That we were...sort of meant for each other. It was as if we'd met before and I'd known you forever," Amy's hand laid on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist.

"I love you too. Probably the only one who ever will," Cody said. Amy blinked away the wetness in her eye and when Cody kissed her she accepted it with no objections. Her lips were thicker than his, but he dominated the kiss. Dominating, but for the first time in their relationship he was gentle. It made the sweet taste of cherry on his lips sweeter. It made her want him to take her deeper. Instead, he broke off the kiss after what felt like a mere moment. "Go. Go in there, get your mother, and we'll get out of here. We'll go somewhere safe, understand?" Amy couldn't protest. The way Cody gripped her, the way his tone set, his glaring blue eyes. All she could do was nod. "Okay," and he let her go.

Amy trotted quickly to her front door, pulling her keys from her pocket to unlock it. She pulled the door open fearfully. She took a step inside.

The door closed behind her with a soft creak. The hallway was dark. There was no noise and Amy knew her mother couldn't possibly be home. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Somebody else might be here, she thought in the dark. She rolled tense shoulders and bit her lower lip. Instincts took over and sent the tingles of invisibility through her body. Amy masked her breathing, completely vanishing as she recalled Cody's warning that there could be a trap. She took measured steps down the carpeted hallway, feeling sticky with the blood of recent combat and fear.

The silence was snapped. A machine-like whir, soft but definite, escaped from the living room. A gasp stuck in Amy's throat. A heavy step fell onto the floorboards and Amy knew somebody was in her house. Somebody who didn't belong. She couldn't move another step. She was blind and frozen in place as the noises crept closer. Amy would later blame her curiosity and deny all fear. Oh no, it was totally curiosity that kept her eyes wide and intent on the archway she knew to be at the end of the hall. She totally wasn't paralyzed with fear or anything like that.

Her heartbeat pounded hard in her ears, kept in time with the footfalls approaching. Not one muscle twitched.

All at once a massive beast stood in the archway. Wide enough to fill it, tall enough to nearly scrape the top of it. It bore down the hall with menacing blue eyes that glowed ominously. Amy, sensing its presence, raised an invisible hand slowly.

"I don't see anything," the beast said suddenly, spooking Amy to flinch. It's voice was deep, harsh, and metallic.

"I detect a very distinct heat signature," a second voice responded, slightly muffled within the suit. Amy recognized this one's accent as one of a posh Londoner. It too sounded inorganic.

"Let me see in thermals," the first voice requested. Now or never, Amy thought and blasted a ball of electric energy from her palm.

The beast ducked with a, "Whoa!" Her electric ball flew overhead, striking a lamp. It jumped from lamp to outlet to fuel the entire house with electricity. Lights flickered violently. The beast crouched low and still. Amy whipped another electric ball into being, this time revealing her only her retinas so she could see where she was shooting. In the epileptic flashes the beast's armor winked hot red and gaudy gold. All at once recognition flooded Amy. Her electric ball dissipated in her palms. When the beast stood once more Amy finally revealed herself. The lights killed as the last of Amy – the tip of her nose – melted into visibility.

Tony immediately flipped the switch nearest to him, washing the hallway in pale yellow light. The young girl in front of him blinked to adjust. Tony took a look at her face and all at once recognition flooded him. This is Amy, his consciousness told him the obvious. He stared at her, slightly stunned to actually be in the same room as her. He desperately wanted to take every aspect of this and memorize it, but he just couldn't let himself. Not when he was meeting her like this. He didn't think the first time he'd meet Amy she'd be beaten bloody and bruised. It wasn't like he pictured it. Considering what he'd read on her file, it struck him he shouldn't have expected anything less than this.

Looking at her further, she was more than beaten up. She looked absolutely mad, frantic, crazy. Her eyes bulged in their sockets, pupils shrunk to terrified specs. Was she scared of him? Or of memories? Her hair sat in a sparky disarray that curled tight like an afro, her body was taut but her fingers shook, the veins in her neck drummed visibly underneath her skin. The way her face twisted with distrust and fear...it was never a look he'd wanted to see on her.

It became apparent in the awkward silence where Amy's eyes would flick from him to the walls that he should say something. Anything. Just to break the ice. As if being shot by her freaky mutant abilities wasn't an icebreaker enough. He flipped up his mask so she could see his face during their first introduction.

"You tried to shoot me," came out, rather than any of the witty things he'd meant to say. That came out and it sounded accusatory and harsh. Tony wanted to wince at his own words.

Amy blinked. First, she's attacked at the mall on her sixteenth birthday, no less. Then, she's chased down the streets by mercenaries working for a madman who wants to kill her and her family. Now, she goes home to protect her family and finds some stranger in a giant metal suit and he wonders why she shot at him? Amy couldn't tell how she felt. Some kind of tornado of confused, angry, and stunned.

"Iron Man is in my flat," was all that she could tell to herself, shaking her head as she drew back from her fighting stance. Fingers came to rest at her temple, rubbing in soothing circles. Amy took a deep breath through her nose and blew out her lips. Should she even try to make sense of this? No, she decided. Her life hadn't made sense since a meteor crashed into her swimming pool and mutated her. Hadn't been normal since SHIELD adopted her and made her an honorary agent. No, this was the fate she seemed doomed to. Weird as fuck and getting progressively worse. Her self-preservation was cringing and her curiosity was ecstatic.

"Listen," she began, "I have no patience, I need to find my mom, and SHIELD is gonna be on my ass in about two seconds. Tell me, quickly, why you're here," Amy said in her best impression of Natasha. Truly, her threatening undertones were to mask the ecstatic curiosity mentioned prior. Iron Man, in her house? There had to be some kind of reason, and it had to be awesome! Not to mention this was Tony Stark! He probably knew everything about everything and could tell Amy about anything her mind was curious about.

"I'm looking for your mother," He answered.

"So am I. I want to save her life. What about you?" Suspicion tainted her curiosity. What the Hell would Tony Stark want with her mother? Had her mom been keeping secrets? Your mother is a fifth generation spy, Amy, of course she's keeping secrets, Amy reprimanded herself. How is the Tony Stark involved?

"Her and I need to have a personal talk about something."

"Well, you should have scheduled an appointment. We're a bit busy right now," Amy said with a narrow stare and dry humor. I'll deal with this bullshit later. I have to find Mom right now.

Amy opened her mouth to speak again, to dismiss Tony, when the door was kicked down with a boom. Glass from windows shattered throughout the house, the sound of it popping in her ears, feet crunching and crackling the shards as heavy bodies landed. Tony flipped his mask down and readied for attack as figures floated into Amy's home. Amy heaved a sigh. She pushed past Tony into the living room.

"You boys and girls had better not track any mud onto my mother's carpet," she warned the SHIELD agents in her in her living room with the a gentle touch of humor. Some smiled at her, others waved, one gave her a friendly, "Hiya, Amy!"

Amy's smile was there and gone in a flash. She turned around to explain to Tony what was going on, but found Clint standing just a few feet away from her instead. She closed the gap between them immediately, practically running into her instructor's arms. Amy gripped him tightly around his midsection. Clint had to awkwardly drape his arms over her shoulders, careful not to whack her head with his bow.

"You okay?" He whispered to her. Amy shook her head honestly, face buried in his shoulder. Clint nodded and Amy pulled away. She wiped a stress-induced tear from her eye and looked up at Clint. Partly for some kind of mentor-type guidance, partly because she needed to see a friendly face. "Have you heard?" He asked. Of course she's heard, Clint thought. It was broadcast live right in front of her. Though, she may be in denial... The confused frown and pinched eyebrows confirmed it.

"Heard what?" She asked innocently.

"Amy, the mission to capture Hellqvist was a set up. He wasn't even there, and we suffered casualties," He explained slowly. Amy's eyes widened, her face becoming tight with refusal. "Natasha and three others made it out okay. But your dad, Amy... He didn't make it," Clint finished quietly.

"No," Amy whispered so quietly she was only mouthing the word. She shook her head violently, tears flicking from her eyes. She couldn't believe it - wouldn't if anybody else had told her. But this wasn't anybody else. This was the person she trusted most saying her father was dead. "No. No. No!" She screamed in growing volume, as if being louder could deny it. Clint pulled her close in a hug again as she cried. Tony stood helpless in the archway. The SHIELD agents were kind enough to pretend they didn't see.

"Amy, it's real. He's gone," Clint had to hammer the hard truth into her. He knew her tendency to live in denial. Still, it hurt to see her this way. To know she was crying because of what he'd told her. Because of what Hellqvist had done. His hand tightened around his bow. He'd kill that guy.

Amy took her last sniffle, a big gulp of air, and tried her best to compose herself when she separated from Clint.

"Don't worry, Amy, we'll get 'im," Clint assured her. Amy took a willowy breath.

"Where's my mom?" Her voice was hoarse.

"She's safe. We intercepted her while she was at a grocery store. She's well on her way to a safehouse now," Clint informed her. Amy nodded. "We have to get going now. And that guy," Clint turned to Tony, "is going to have to come with us."

"Excuse me?"

"You've associated yourself with Amy, showed up at her residence, so now we have to take you to a safehouse. Protocol."

"Listen, I can manage on my own, so-"

"This isn't about what you can do," Clint asserted. "This is about Amy. Anyone who may have any intel on her has to be put away where no one can find them. You are under threat and that puts Amy under threat, since Fury decided to make the call and show you her complete file. You're coming with us."

"This is kidnapping," Tony objected. Amy huffed. Clint rolled his eyes. A snappy comeback was on the tip of his tongue when Amy tugged on his sleeve. His attention immediately diverted to her.

"You have Cody too, right?" She asked softly, staring at the floor.

"We haven't found him yet."

Amy's head snapped up. Her eyes found their focus and stared eerily at Clint. His eyes swept from side to side as he avoided meeting Amy's gaze.

"Something wrong?" He asked.

"He was outside, where is he now?" Amy's hushed voice pressed him.

"I wouldn't know. There was nobody outside when we got here. The only thing there now are SHIELD agents," Clint told her. Amy looked down again.

"He...abandoned me," a quiet fell over Amy that her instructor knew wasn't going to break anytime soon. He opted to wrap an arm around her shoulders in a brotherly fashion.

"Sounds like a real asshole. You sure know how to pick 'em," Tony piped up. He was met with not just Clint's glare, but the glares of all the other SHIELD agents in the room. "Tough crowd..."

"Let's just go," Clint said. He led Amy out of her home, which she knew she'd never see again after this. Clint signaled for his agents to follow behind. Tony fell out last.

"I don't even have the tech to disassemble this," he grumbled, glaring at his metal shelling.

Hellqvist sat in his office, drumming his fingers over his desk. His office was square, like most rooms, but his taste for candlelight over bulbs made it look rounder as the candelabra cast its shadow. Tiny glass sculptures and books on the history of wars adorned his wall-consuming bookshelves. On his mahogany desk two particular statues sat. An angel with a face carved like his mother's, arranged to appear to be grooming the powerful wings of an angel in his father's likeness. He blew out a short, depressed breath as he stared at them.

A rapping on his office doors disturbed him, but he had called for this person.

"Come in," he called in his Swedish husk.

A dark-haired woman, once confident and leering over a near-defeated Amy, wheeled in on a wheelchair. She stopped in the center of the room. The candelabra hung over her like a spotlight, shining on her failure. Hellqvist rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward.

"What happened?" He posed his question with a soprano lilt, punctuating each word with accusation.

"The damned Widow's Prodigy severed my spine is what happened," she growled out.

"Not to you," Hellqvist snapped. "The mission!"

The woman hung her head.

"We had anticipated her skill, her powers, and potential backup. We just didn't expect so much...emotion. Every punch carried the weight of her world in it. It made her stronger, all that caring," she explained. Hellqvist rose slowly.

"You are telling me," he said gently, "that the ball got dropped because she's empathetic?"

The woman nodded timidly.

Hellqvist exploded, throwing his treasured sculptures and books from their shelves.

"That is no excuse! There is no excuse! There is only your failure," he hissed and pointed a finger at her. "Amelia, I didn't hire you on sentiment. I hired you and your mercenaries because you said you could win." He threw his arms out. "What the Hell?!"

"We will win! Next time. After my spine heals," Amelia insisted. "Next time..."

"You're damn right."

Hellqvist finally calmed, sitting back in his chair. He ran a hand through his soft, pale locks.

"You said it was her...sensitivity that gave her strength?" He asked. Amelia nodded. "We'll have to take that from her then. Rewrite the whole plan. Our top priority is now fucking up that girl's head as much as we can so that she's perfectly malleable," Hellqvist said. Amelia nodded once more and he knew she'd made the mental note. He reclined back in his chair, slipping into ease. Ease was a hard thing for him to come by lately. "How long until your spine heals, Amelia?" He asked conversationally.

"My healing factor should make me well again in a week," Amelia said. Hellqvist nodded.

"I'll see to it your comfortable during that period," he promised.

"Thank you, Tomas," Amelia said sweetly. "I can already wiggle my toes," she added.

"Good, good," Hellqvist nodded again. He stared intently at his glass angels on his desk. "Amelia," he called with a whisper. Amelia looked at him kindly, nostalgic of the days a lifetime ago when he was only a child and she would babysit him. Looking at him in this moment she saw once more the softhearted little boy. The boy who sat in her lap to eagerly hear her tell stories.

"Would you please tell me a story of my parents? You know, one from before I was born. Those are the interesting ones," he was almost pleading. Amelia gave him the same soft smile she would give him when he scraped his knee or stubbed his toe.

"Yes," she said, wheeling forward until she bumped into his desk. "Perhaps over a game of chess?" Hellqvist nodded and pulled the board from the shelf directly behind him. "Now," Amelia started as she set up the board, "this one is from back when I wore my natural blonde..."

Why did I just make my villain sympathetic? Goddammit, none of you coddle him! Also, remember to follow, favorite, or review if you enjoyed!