...*emerges meekly from corner* I hope everyone had a great New Year...?
It's exam season. A really, really long exam season. As in, from January to June. Because there are these ugly things called midterms, the SAT, AP exams, SAT subject tests, and finals. Which means that updates may not be as on point as they used to be. Hopefully they show up once a weekend, but not on a specific weekend day. Just warning you guys now.
Shoutout to Sorcha Annysia, .fanfiction, Le tueur silencieux and Rated PG-13 for following!
Bruce stared uneasily at the clock. 11:59 AM and nothing had happened yet. If it hit 12:00, he could officially say that they'd made it to noon without incident. And considering how prone certain members of the team were prone to trouble, that could only mean one thing: something bigger than usual was going to happen.
12:00.
"We made it to noon without anything happening," Steve said in wonder, joining Bruce over at the clock, his brow furrowing. "I can't believe we made it to noon. How'd we make it to noon? Especially with all of that drinking Tony did last night..."
"Because with hangovers come genius ideas!" Tony exclaimed, walking into the living room, a Nerf gun in his hand. "And this one, I tell you, was too impossible to pass up!" He did a quick draw at Steve, who reflexively swatted at the Nerf dart aimed at his head. "I've been modifying these Nerf darts so that they stuck like the plungers, and I finally did it!"
"Tony, we are not starting another war," Bruce told him, already knowing that this was going to turn out badly. "Besides, we've already been banned from wars in the tower, on the Helicarrier, and on the Quinjets. Where else can you have a war?"
The billionaire gestured to the window at the wide expanse of the city. "In the streets, of course! Fury said absolutely nothing about the streets! And I've already brought this up to Natashalie and Legolas. They're prepping for the great Paintball and Nerf gun war of 2015!"
"No wonder I haven't heard a peep out of them all morning," Bruce said, comprehension beginning to dawn on his face. "And here I was, foolishly thinking that they were just nursing really bad hangovers..." Of course, as soon as he said it, he realized just how stupid a statement like that was. Clint, maybe, would have a bad hangover, but he was pretty sure that wasn't even in Natasha's vocabulary. There really was no fighting this. "And Thor?"
"Oh yeah, Point Break's in this, too," Tony shrugged. "He went off to Asgard, claiming that he'd come back in time for the war because he needed Asgardian weapons for it." Bruce and Steve exchanged looks. It was bad enough that the resident assassins were being challenged to a war that required them to use their skill set, but Asgardian technology just begged for a city-wide incident. "The war starts at thirteen hundred hours," he continued cheerfully. "I'd best get ready to have your ass whooped, Capsicle."
"I gave you three hours to go to Asgard and come back, and this is what you return with?" Tony demanded of Thor, who was standing in the tower's lobby with a large penguin Pillow Pet. "A Pillow Pet?"
"It is a symbol of my love to the penguin!" Thor exclaimed, hugging it tightly. "Beside, if I am ambushed by Lord Barton or Lady Romanoff, they are more likely to hit the penguin than I, resulting in an escape from death! Besides, Mjolnir is perfectly capable of serving as a weapon in this war. It has the capability of shooting both your upgraded darts as well as your colored balls of paint."
"Whatever you say, man," Clint mumbled, fiddling with his Nerf crossbow. It was a lethal yet childish looking bow, with gray sides and a large red-and-yellow shooter in the middle. "I still think the bow is the way to go." He and Natasha had been the only ones smart enough to get extra vests to hold their ammunition-one of the reasons why both of them looked so calm and collected, while Steve was trying to cram as many Nerf darts as he could into his pockets, muttering feverishly the whole time.
"Says the man who once got incapacitated by a monkey and a giraffe because the monkey stole his bow," Natasha snorted. She, in true Black Widow fashion, had opted for the traditional guns, a blue, white and orange Nerf with a large barrel on her left, and a sleek 11mm pistol on her right, painted a threatening silver. She'd taken one step further than Clint, though, and wore both a vest and ammunitions belt, both stocked full with darts and paintballs.
"I need to hear that story," Steve snorted, then huffed as several darts fell out of his pocket. "If I'd known that they made belts, I would've bought one before the start of this war. Would've saved me so much trouble right now." In retrospect, carrying as much ammo as he was was kind of foolish, as his Nerf gun held six cartridges' worth of darts-he wasn't likely to run out anytime soon. In fact, his gun was something more akin to machine gun than a pistol, but still sporting the traditional blue and orange colors.
"Are we good? I've been watching Capsicle shove darts into his pockets for ten minutes," Tony snorted, still internally laughing at Steve trying to shove ammo into his pockets. He'd equipped his Iron Man suit for the occasion (of course, no one knew that) and had already sent out a little octopus-like creature into the streets, who would shoot Nerf darts at people when he commanded it to. He regretted to say that it wasn't of his own design-damn toy companies had already beat him to it. "Five points a person, lose five if you hit someone already hit, and you get shot by a paintball, you're out. And why am I not surprised about the giraffe?"
Clint (Central Park)
"Central Park, Legolas?" Tony inquired of the archer, who was already scanning the area for a suitable tree to climb into. "Well, don't we think alike?" The man was strolling through the park without so much as a care, as if he expected to win the war just by smiling at someone. Well, the man was Tony Stark, Clint reasoned. It was possible that such a thing could happen. All the more reason why he needed to win this war. That, and to save his ego from the last war, when he'd accidentally shot all of Thor's conquests. Natasha still wouldn't let him live that down.
"I won't shoot you if you won't shoot me," Clint muttered out of the corner of his mouth, still looking around for the perfect hideout. There. Right in the corner, with a nice, steady trunk and the perfect amount of foliage. Completely ignoring the blabbering going on by Tony, he started towards the tree, sizing it up and beginning to determine how exactly he'd make it up. The last time he'd been up a tree, there'd been a giraffe trying to get at him and a monkey with his beloved bow and arrow in hand. Of course, there weren't any animals in close proximity trying to end him, but the zoo was some distance away...Casting a glance around to make sure there wasn't anyone but Tony following him, he wrapped two arms around the tree, using his feet for leverage as he scrambled up the tree.
Ah, that was better. Quietly, he notched a dart into his crossbow, centering on his first target of the day. Someone really should tell that woman that neon colors were soo back in the 1980's. He would know, having once spent two weeks undercover in a camp dedicated to reviving the 80's. It was one of the only times he'd seen both Natasha and May wear something other than black, and he'd made sure to get plenty of pictures.
Zup. The woman didn't even flinch as Clint's dart connected with her neon-clad back, instead choosing to adjust the music on her iPhone and keep walking. Next up was the man who was blathering away on his cell phone while his young daughter forlornly looked at her balloon animal, seemingly saddened by the fact that her father had chosen work over her. The idiot who was harrassing his girlfriend on the park bench. Then the girl, for sticking with him for who knew how long. The two teenaged girls walking up the way, gossiping about the recent New Year's party in loud and obnoxious tones. "Like, OMG, they were so making out like the world was going to end. Absolutely disgusting," one of them declared in a nasal tone. "I can't even think about why people do things like that, like, I can't even."
"I know, right?" the other one laughed meanly. "And she makes herself out to be such a little angel, too. Always kissing up to the teachers, asking for extra assignments, being so nice to everyone...when in reality, she's nothing but a prissy little slut."
Zup. Ugh. If he thought 80's society was bad, that was nothing compared to today's teenagers. The girl he hit screamed, but no one turned to help her save for her friend-everyone probably assumed it was a laugh of some sort. Whatever passed for a laugh these days. Zup. And there was the second girl. He took a moment to appreciate Tony's ingenious inventions as both girls tried to pull the dart off of their foreheads, to no avail. Clint considered getting out his crossbow for paintballs (he'd been verily surprised upon learning that such a weapon was available) and shooting them both in the forehead with purple paint, but then decided against it. These two weren't worth wasting perfectly good paint over.
Wait. He paused in aiming at yet another hapless walker, this time a teenager on a skateboard with his headphones in that wasn't paying any attention to where he was going, forcing several people to leap out of the way hurriedly for being flattened.
Was that the smell of corn dogs?
Tony (Central Park)
As soon as Clint disappeared up the tree, Tony hurried up the street, dodging several joggers and workers on their way back from lunch break, almost running over a policeman carrying a box of donuts. That would not have looked good on his list of felonies. 'Ran over an off-duty officer with a box of donuts', along with the various misdemeanors he was going to commit, would not help Pepper's case when everything was said and done.
"The suit is ready for deployment, sir," JARVIS sounded in his earpiece. "Shall I have it sent over to you?"
"Lemme get up high, first, J," Tony answered, scanning around for a tree, much like Clint had moments before. "Don't need people figuring out what I'm going to do before they need to." After much deliberation (and some scrapes from trying to climb the tree-he hadn't done that in years-he was perched on a tree branch, clad in full Iron Man armor. "Let's pull up the footage of Octo, shall we?" JARVIS gave him a full-color feed of the little octopus-like machine, who was scuttling through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, discreetly attaching darts to people's shoes.
In the corner of his mask, Tony could see the various numbers of people each Avenger had hit. Clint's would occasionally jump, Steve and Natasha's jumping in large bursts (what the hell? Were they working together?), and Thor's increasing at a constant rate. His seemed to be the highest at the moment, however. By quite a long shot. He didn't expect to lose this war anytime soon.
Slowly but silently, Tony rose up into the air, so not to alert anyone to the fact that Iron Man was out and in the open. He'd reprogrammed his repulsors to shoot darts whenever he aimed at someone, and JARVIS would be able to tell him whether someone had been hit or not. Surprisingly, Tony noted as he hit several people in succession, almost no one had been tagged. Did Barton have something up his sleeve, or...?
Thor (2nd Ave)
These mortals were so gullible, he snorted as he strolled down the street, jauntily swinging his hammer. How could they not notice the small projectile coming towards them? He was right in not having to worry about Mjolnir's appearance, the mortals wouldn't have seen it even if Thor had swung it at them from five feet away.
Not that he had any particular preference as to who he was shooting, of course. Although the people he was shooting at all seemed to look similar in appearance, with ratty clothes and matted hair. They all looked like they could use a good shower, courtesy of Stark Tower. Perhaps he would have a word with Lord Stark about opening the tower to charity when this war was over.
Avenue A? Why would they name a street as such? Ah, well. That was no matter. He was here on a mission to fulfill-tag as many people as possible with these darts of Lord Stark's, and quite possibly tag more than that of the other Avengers. Then would he possibly begin to regain his pride after having been bested by the Man of Iron. Thor's confusion only increased when he rounded the roundabout, having stuck darts to all of the people on the street, many of them unconscious. Avenue B? What kind of naming system was this? Nevertheless, he set about sticking darts to people. Those who were awake to see the god shooting darts at them tugged at the Nerf dart in confusion, some of them turning to shout at him upon figuring out that they weren't able to get it off.
"Hey!"
"What'd you do?"
"If you think that this is gonna make the government-"
"He's getting away!"
"Everyone after him!"
Upon hearing that last exclamation, Thor just clutched Mjolnir and ran as fast as he could, thinking that he had marked enough persons that his score would be satisfactory until he made it to safety.
He didn't stop until he made it to 1st Avenue, having quickly lost sight of the angry mob, and collapsed onto the sidewalk, thoroughly confused on what had just transpired.
Steve (Park Ave.)
"Well, that wasn't so bad," he muttered to himself as he rounded the corner from East and Seventh, having just narrowly escaped a battle with Clint. For reasons unexplained, he'd been munching on a corn dog when Steve had encountered him, and had not taken kindly to the fact that Steve was 'encroaching on his space', as he so eloquently put it. Sometime during the battle, Natasha had shown up, forcing the both of them to go on full alert as she'd begun to fire rapidly, determined to put them down for the count. Then, while he and Clint had been shooting at each other, the archer with his paintball crossbow (they made those?) and Steve with a classic blue paintball gun, the assassin had disappeared to who knew where. He'd run for it with Clint still shooting at him, yelling something about avenging his corn dog.
Steve really didn't want to know.
But Park Avenue really wasn't that bad, he mused. There were people everywhere-it was New York, of course why would there not be?-and he'd managed to tag quite a few of them. He'd discovered that targets were especially vulnerable when at crosswalks. They'd all been instantly tagged, most of them completely unaware that they'd just been tagged by a bright yellow Nerf dart with a red, white and blue tip. That was sure to go over well when it was discovered. Especially when they found out that it wouldn't come off unless there was a special dissolving agent applied-or, as Natasha liked to call it, "Spit."
He'd just made it past the intersection of Park and East 42nd, having chanced upon a large gaggle of tourists looking for Madison Square Garden who were all too happy to get Nerf-darted by Captain America, when he saw it.
Or, more accurately, him. Tearing through the crowds as fast as he could, wielding his hammer with a loud battle cry.
Thor.
Apparently, the Asgardian had seen him as well, for he came to a stop, cocking his hammer at the super soldier with a determined look on his face. "Lord Steven," he began. "I should not like to fight you here in this crowded area, but should it come to that, I shall most willingly trade blows for the sake of my pride." A large crowd had gathered around the both of them, leaving a large circled berth for the two heroes.
"Captain America's gonna fight Thor?" someone cried. "What's going on?"
"Are the Asgardians no longer allies of the Avengers?" someone else echoed. Thor shot him with a dart, and they ran off, yelling, "I GOT NERF DARTED BY THOR!"
"Was that really necessary?" Steve asked Thor, not breaking eye contact. "All she did was ask a question."
"She knew too much," he growled in response, still twirling his hammer. "Now, I ask you again, Lord Steven. Will we agree to part in peace, or shall I have to fight you?"
Half of the crowd began to chant, "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" while the other half begged to prevent an intergalactic incident. Steve and Thor continued to stare each other down, paintball guns cocked. The crowd failed to notice their choice of artillery, however, completely missing the point that the entire thing was a game.
"Let's agree to part amicably," Steve finally said through gritted teeth. "I am sure, Thor, that you have targets that you wish to pursue. As do I." The god nodded imperceptibly. "But, let me say this now: the next time we meet, I have no intention of letting you walk away." With that, he swiftly exchanged his paintball gun for his Nerf gun, and began shooting darts at the crowd that had gathered around them, people screaming as they scattered.
"Captain America's gone rogue!"
"Someone call the National Guard!"
"Screw the National Guard! Someone call the NYPD! Call the FBI! Call the CIA! Whoever the hell's in charge!"
Steve and Thor's darts went flying everywhere as people scrambled for cover, some taking refuge inside stores, others catching taxis and speeding away, and others simply attempting to use their personal belongings to shield themselves from the projectiles.
Slowly but surely, the two men went in opposite directions, Thor back down East 34th Street, and Steve down to Madison Square Garden. Eventually, the scene quieted down-that is, until someone decided to tug at one of the Nerf darts they'd been hit with.
"Hey! These things don't come off!"
Natasha (Brooklyn Bridge)
Propping her feet up onto the bench, Natasha let out a gust of air as she relaxed for the first time that afternoon. Up until now, she'd warily been looking over her shoulder for an Avenger, the cops, or both. She hadn't exactly been innocently carrying a paintball pistol for nothing. And no one was brave enough to try and ask her. Yup. Taking the subway had definitely been the right idea. Rogers and Barton were probably duking it out where she'd left them on East 59th. No way anyone would bother trying to look for her this far. The only one who was even capable of making such a speed was Thor.
Now, all she had to do was sit back, chill, and wait for everyone else to shoot themselves until she got to go in for the win. Of course, she'd darted everyone on the train ride here-no one said the subway system couldn't be put to use. She'd actually switched trains quite a few times-the number of people to be darted was endless. She supposed she should get up, traverse the bridge, shoot people there...
...but she really didn't need to get arrested. Plus, this bench was pretty damn comfortable.
Steve (Chinatown)
Just what exactly was that thing in the cart?
Steve's curiosity got the better of him as he warily approached the metal cart, the Asian man behind it merrily muttering to himself as he moved several sticks of meat onto his grill. Pork! Meat! Beef! All for $1! the sign read. Frowning, Steve tried to remember if he'd taken any money with him before leaving the tower. He had stuffed his pockets full of darts...
"Snap out of it, Rogers," he said to himself. "You've got a war to win." He made a mental note to himself to come back here sometimes after the war (with money) and settled instead for darting the man.
Really, the people here were easy picking. Most of them seemed to have no idea who he was, and he darted twenty, thirty, forty without a single incident. Until...
"Boba? What's boba?"
Ten minutes and a cup of bubble tea later, he had his answer.
Tony (American Museum of Natural History)
"Ah, there you are, my loyal little monster," he said relishingly as he saw his machine exit the museum, looking slightly worse for wear, but otherwise in the shape he'd sent it in. "Tagged everyone in the museum for me, didn't ya, little fella? And you didn't even have to pay admission fees!"
"Who are you talking to, Tony?"
"Pep!" Tony felt a stab of alarm go through him at the sound of his girlfriend's voice emanating through the speakers. "Uh...good to see you too?"
"I just got back to an empty tower, Nerf darts everywhere, and JARVIS refusing to tell me where you all are. What's going on? And why are you sweet-talking?"
"When did I give you access to my suit?"
"You didn't. Natasha was nice enough to hack it and let me in."
Natashalie. Probably somewhere with access to a computer-this old Mark couldn't be hacked with any old cell phone. Which meant that she was either back at the Tower, or somewhere Tony didn't know about... "Shacking up with Barton, eh? Thanks, Pep!"
"Actually, it's not Clint she's with, it's-Tony Stark, that doesn't answer my question!" But the billionaire had already hung up, slowing his repulsors so that he landed gently on the ground. Then, so as to avoid being seen, he rapidly grabbed Octo and blasted back into the air.
"I can't let her win this war, now can I, Octo...?"
Current Scores:
Barton, Clinton: 45
Odinson, Thor: 366
Rogers, Steven: 689
Romanoff, Natasha: 750
Stark, Anthony: 474
"Coulson? It's Pepper...yeah, Tony's got another one of his harebrained schemes in action..."
Natasha (West 14th and Avenue of the Americas)
Having stopped in Chinatown for a quick bite (the look on the server's face when she'd ordered in fluent Mandarin had been too good to pass up,) and a swing by her tiny little apartment in Greenwich Village for more darts and paintballs, Natasha was all ready to go provoke an Avenger. Or possibly another crowded area. Strangely enough, on her way through Chinatown, she'd caught glimpses of yellow darts, all marked red, white and blue.
Steve wouldn't be that smart...would he...?
"Natasha."
The man in question was suddenly in front of her, holding his paintball gun aloft. His pockets were still filled to the brim with darts, she noted, meaning that he hadn't shot too many people. "Steven. Still filled with darts, I take it."
Without breaking his gaze, he pulled his Nerf gun out of its holster with one hand, aiming it at a random gaggle of people. "I like to score big hits every now and then. I don't play dirty." She narrowed her green eyes at him, trying to determine if he was jabbing at her or not.
"What are you trying to say?"
She saw it before it even happened.
The bright blue paintball whizzed past her side and hit some random bystander, who was shunted sideways with the force of the impact. "Ow!" Steve looked ready to apologize, but instead fired off another shot at Natasha, who by now had her paintball pistol out and was shooting right back at him. The two exchanged shots, their moves becoming a graceful dance that was impossible to ignore. People started to stop and stare at the duo, who were moving quickly, with their paintballs moving even faster.
"You're not going to win this one, Romanoff," Steve growled as another paintball whizzed past his head. "Two-time war champion in the making you're facing here."
"Now, now, Rogers," she taunted back, squeezing off several shots in succession. "You only got lucky last time. We all know who's the master of paintball, and that's me." A black paintball narrowly missed his stomach. "Now, don't make me shoot you."
Suddenly, she straightened up, aiming and firing at a spot some distance away. The entire crowd went silent, puzzled as to why she'd shot so far, when they heard the sound of,
"MY CORN DOG!"
"Was that just..." Steve didn't even get to finish his sentence, for Natasha had popped him a paintball in the knee, effectively taking him out before she took off running up the street. The soldier keeled to the ground, the crowd converging around him to see if he was alright.
She didn't even look back.
Clint (West 23rd and Avenue of the Americas)
He stared forlornly at his corn dog, which now had a black paintball embedded in it. There was no way Natasha had seen his corn dog. Even lower of a probability that she'd realized that it was him holding the corn dog.
But his corn dog...
His lament for the lovely street food was cut short by another red paintball whizzing over his head. Turning in the direction it'd come from, fear seized him as he saw her bright red hair advancing up the street, paintball pistol cocked and at the ready. Why weren't people screaming and running for their lives? The sight of Natasha was enough to send people running. Natasha and a paintball gun should've made anyone piss their pants. In fact...
...he was definitely going to need to change his pants when he got back to the tower.
Zup. Zup. Black paintballs started flying at him, and it was only due to an extensive knowledge of Natasha's shooting style that Clint made it through the first round without being splattered. Really too bad he couldn't say the same for his corn dog. And for that, she was going to pay. Purple paintballs began to fly in retaliation to the black ones, and a similar dance began, this time only dirtier, as neither Clint nor Natasha were afraid to play dirty.
"Go Hawkeye!" someone shouted, and Natasha rewarded them with a dart to the forehead.
"Clint's losing this one, idiots," she snarled, before launching into a graceful aerial flip while letting off several shots that arced through the air, all hitting Clint in succession. He was covered in black before she'd even hit the ground. Smirking, she headed up the street towards the Empire State Building. Steve and Clint down, only two to go...
Thor (Empire State Building)
He'd been certain that he'd been the only one ingenious enough to think of this idea. What better way to target people with darts than to climb up one of the highest buildings in the city? But no, Lord Stark seemed to have the same idea, only with the advantage, as he simply flew up to the building's balcony. Well, if that was the way he wanted to play, Thor could play that way as well. Raising Mjolnir, he was up on the balcony in an instant, confronting Stark with a twirl of his hammer.
"Lord Stark! So we meet!"
"Point Break," the man greeted crisply in return, before beginning to assault Thor with red paintballs. People screamed as they were splattered in blood-like paint. One brave man was even angry enough to whip out his phone and dial a lawyer.
"I'll be suing for this! This is a Rolex you're damaging here! Not to mention disturbance of the public peace!"
"Ah, hell, Pepper's going to have my ass later for that," Tony swore under the mask while firing at Thor. "Best that I get my licks in while I can." So far, the god had managed to deflect all of Tony's paintballs with a flick of his hammer, and even once had turned so that a paintball has smacked against his penguin Pillow Pet. Now, gold and red flew through the air and the two exchanged blows.
"This is just like in the Avengers movie!" a bystander gasped, camera held aloft. "It's like they're reenacting the movie in real life!"
"I feel that the stakes are the same, sir," Thor answered gravely. "Shall we take this to the air, Lord Stark?"
Tony would've answered had he not been sprayed with black paintballs. "What the hell? I've been shot!" Thor looked around for the source of the shooter, surely they couldn't have gone far after assaulting Lord Stark-
-only to be doused in black paint. If possible, he was covered in more paint than Tony had been. "What is the meaning of this? Who dares shoot the son of Odin with a paintball? I promise you, you shall pay!"
"Uh-uh-uh, Thor, you wouldn't dare shoot a lady, would you?" a sultry voice chuckled, and Natasha emerged from the crowd, still holding her smoking paintball pistol.
Coulson (Empire State Building)
"I see them." From his vantage point on the SHIELD helicopter, he could see the sprawled-out silhouettes of Iron Man and Thor, surrounded by a crowd of people. "Unfortunately, there's no way to directly land on the roof."
"Good, because I'm going to kick Stark's ass to the middle of the next century," Maria Hill growled. "There's already enough paperwork with all of the calls coming in about the Nerf darts. Did they really have to take their little wars to the streets? Land on the roof of Madison Square Garden."
Tony (Empire State Building)
"Everything hurts," he muttered inaudibly. "Why does it feel like I've just been hit by a Jericho? JARVIS, systems check. I need to make sure Natashalie didn't damage anything valuable."
"Everything seems to be in working order, sir."
"Excellent. I just need to make sure Natashalie has a living hell for the next month or so. Should I dye her shampoo green or something?"
"Dye my shampoo green, Stark, and you will be missing something valuable. And it's not that easy to replace." Natasha's threat was barely audible through the mask, but the undertone was still present all the same.
"Geez, got it, Spidey. Oh God, it's not him you're going out with, is it? Because it's totally snatching the cradle if you do. You really need to have better taste in men. If you want, I can have Pep set you up with some of her guy friends that she has in her circle-"
"Stark." The threat this time was not Natasha's, but a much more stern tone. "What have you done this time?"
Coulson. Ah, shit.
"Agent! Good to see you!" At that, Tony flipped his faceplate up to catch Coulson crouched over him, a permanent frown etched onto his face. "You haven't told Pepper about this, have you? Because if she finds out about this, I'll be on the couch for a month, and Cap always likes occupying the couch when he can't sleep, which almost guarantees I'll have to sleep on the floor and you know that the floor is an absolutely hazard for my back-"
"I didn't tell Miss Potts. Agent Hill decided she would."
"Can I at least know who won before I die?"
"That would be me, Stark." Natasha.
"Damn."
"Anthony. Edward. Stark. You just wait until you get back here." He would've rather Pepper shouted at him, actually. At least the threat of imminent death didn't seem so real then.
"Is there any chance I could've convinced you to just yell at me?"
Read and review?
This one's really, really, really wordy. Sorry if it doesn't turn out too well, I was writing a term paper while I was doing it, and term papers are the devil for anyone who's written them.
Best review goes to Queen Martha Pond-here's the tea! Don't give it to Bruce, though. Steve will not be happy if you do. For this week, the best review gets Clint's corndogs!