Disclaimer: I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I do own the OC in this chapter, however.
Summary: Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.
Author's Note: Hey, guys! Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! They mean a lot to me! So, with the release of Endgame, I'm just gonna say that this story will NOT be a spoiler for that movie. So no worries there. If there's anything at all that could be a potential spoiler, I'll make a note before the chapter starts. So, everyone's in pretty hot water. Let's see how they'll get out of it!
Chapter 25– Of Monsters and Men
The entire production area was filled with a brilliant crimson as Vision phased through the door. His light eyes narrowed in concern as he scanned the vast room, seeing that most of the overhead lights had shattered and quite a bit of the machinery had been crushed. While he was hovering a few feet above the ground, he could still feel the very warehouse around him shaking with each pulse of power, knowing the foundation could not stand much more. If he did not act quickly, the entire place could crumble around them, and everyone still trapped inside or trying to rescue them would die.
He could not allow that to happen. He knew he was the only one who could get close enough to Wanda to stop her when she was like this to stop this calamity. Though he would still have to proceed with caution. The bond that connected them through the Stone was a beautiful thing, but it was also a dangerous one. While he always attempted to assuage her fears, she did have the power to harm him if she weren't careful, possibly even to terminate his existence. And in the shape she was in…
The android stopped that thought before it could get any further. No matter what… no matter the rage, the sheer pain, the heartbreak he could feel so strongly from her and so intimately that the emotions were nearly his own… she was still Wanda. And he could get through to her.
Another strong blast of energy nearly knocked him out of the air as Vision descended the steps, landing on the floor as sparks flew from a control panel next to him. He slowly made his way toward the epicenter of the power surge, closing his eyes as he focused on himself. He could feel his body, his skin, stretching and retracting as the molecules of his physical essence shifted and changed into a form he hoped would help to calm her. He opened his eyes and looked down at his human-esque hands before running one through his light, tousled hair and down the sharp lines and angles of his face and faintly stubbled chin. His gaze passed over the black pants and gray mid-length sleeved shirt he wore, the unthreatening attire meeting his approval as he continued toward where he felt Wanda was. He noticed the vent above his head where a light, translucent mist was seeping into the room, and the spot where the Stone rested in the middle of his forehead glowed faintly. The hallucinogenic gas dissipated before fading completely.
Hopefully stopping her exposure to it would help him reach her. Even though he knew, he could feel, how far gone she already was.
Vision then turned to where he felt her power emanating from, and he took slow, even steps past what used to be a fully functioning assembly line until he saw her. Wanda was standing with her back to him, her scarlet power crackling around her like lightning. Her hands were spread out on either side of her, most of the energy concentrated in her palms and twirling around her ringed fingers, the definite cause of the destruction around her.
He took another small, cautious step forward. "Wanda," he murmured, his voice calm and even, not wanting to startle her.
Another burst of crimson power pulsed around her as she quickly spun to face him, the ends of her light hair standing on end. The AI's gaze faltered when he saw the dark look on her face and the red light that ringed her pupils. This was exactly what he'd feared. There was no sign of her anywhere.
Wanda slowly finished turning to face him, a cruel smirk appearing at the corner of her lips. She brought her hands to rest in front of her, a crackling ball of energy appearing between her palms. "Are you happy now?" she asked in just above a whisper. There was an eeriness, a cruelty, in her quiet voice that didn't suit her. "You twisted us into monsters. And you finally have them."
Vision hesitated before he took another step, raising his hands on either side of him in a placating manner. It was only himself and Wanda, so he wasn't sure what she was referring to. It was also clear that she wasn't seeing him under the influence of the gas, realizing it was either Strucker or Fennhoff judging by her words. He would have to be extremely careful with her.
"Wanda. Dear," he attempted, making sure his voice remained low. Calm. "No matter what you are being made to think, this is not you. You are not–!"
"No, this is me. The real me I've been trying to hide from the world!" Wanda's voice rose, the space between them charged with the intensity of the flickering scarlet energy around her. She laughed, the sound sharp, piercing. "The me that everyone was made to fear. Well, I say let them fear me. They should fear me! I am tired of being afraid of you, of who I am. So here I am. This is what you wanted!"
The android shook his head sadly, knowing that his words were not going to be enough to reach her. He took another step, making sure to not make any sudden movements that would set her off. "Wanda, please. If you would just listen…"
"Enough!"
An intense flash of energy blinded him. Vision grunted when the force of her power collided with him, knocking him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, finding he was unable to move as the light flickered and faded. He winced as he slowly sat up, his blue eyes widening with a gasp when he saw the left side of his body was flickering, sparking… going from the red skin and gray uniform of his true form and the lightly tanned human skin he was attempting to maintain for her. A burning pain traveled up and down the affected area. He tried to push himself to his feet, but he bit back a cry as he weakly sank back to a knee. He just didn't have the strength, there was too much pain…
Her power had done this…
Wanda smirked again as she slowly, agonizingly, made her way to him, another ball of red energy already forming between her slender fingers. "Look at you know… brought low before me…" she murmured with false pity. "As it should be… killed at the hands of your own creation…"
Vision raised his head to look up at her. Through the pain, the fire spreading through half of his body, he managed to give her a small smile. "Wanda, I… I am not afraid of you," he whispered. "You are not… the monster people fear… I do not see that in you…"
She inclined her head. "Then you are blind."
The second blast of energy collided right in the center of his chest, and Vision cried out as he was forced backward. He landed on his back, his body trembling as the visage of himself he'd been fighting to maintain faded away completely to his true one. He could hardly move, his body weak as his eyes drooped closed.
Wanda knelt beside him, delicately tracing her fingers over his red cheek. "How does it feel?" she wondered, a tendril of crimson light twirling around her index one. She softly poked his chest, sending her power through him as she caused his body to seize. Though he refused to scream. Her eyes narrowed angrily. "Once I am through with you, we will bring this damned hellhole crashing down, and all of you monsters who made us this way will die. Then the world will see us for what we are. Together, we will show them. And they will be right to fear!"
Pietro… She had to be talking about her brother… If only he still lived…
Vision forced his eyes to open, finding her scarlet ones above him. He reached out, lightly brushing his hand against her arm before she flinched away from the touch. "You… you are not a monster…" he managed to say through gritted teeth as she continued her attack. "Wanda… dear… they may not see you as I do, but… do not give in…"
Wanda's smirk returned as she increased the power behind the energy she was sending into him. Vision convulsed as a quiet sound of pain broke past his lips. A gleam appeared in her eye when she heard it. "It is far too late for that, your words cannot move me."
The android warily looked up at Wanda again, giving her a shaky smile. "You… cannot hurt… me…" His voice came out as hardly more than a breath. But he had her right where he needed her to be. The Stone in the middle of his forehead began to glow a faint yellow.
Her gaze flickered to the sudden light, and curiosity appeared in her dark features. "What is this?" she asked, moving her finger away from his chest. Vision let out a sigh of relief once the energy attack stopped. But then, blinding agony rocked his skull as a few tendrils of the scarlet light snaked their way into the Stone.
Wanda smiled, the look cruel, as his scream echoed around her. "It seems I can hurt…" she began, but her words slowly trailed off when the Stone gave off a brighter burst of light in response to her energy, forcing hers out. The AI's pained sound stopped abruptly as his chest heaved, gasping, though her gaze remained fixated on the warm yellow light in his forehead. She leaned closer, feeling as though she was being pulled into its embrace as it enfolded her in its warmth, its safety.
Vision slowly opened his eyes when he felt her lingering close, seeing that the malice and darkness was easing out of her features. He reached out and weakly took her hand in his slightly shaking one, focusing on the memories he had of them together… the laughs, the smiles, the quiet moments in each other's arms, the stolen kisses… and made sure she could feel the warmth, the affection, in them, too. "Wanda… dear… You are not a monster," he muttered. "You cannot… hurt me…"
The crimson around her pupils began to fade, replaced with a yellow glow that mirrored his. A moment later, she gasped and shut her eyes as she turned away, wrapping her free arm around herself as she started to tremble. The Stone in the android's forehead stopped glowing, casting them in shadows, as he allowed her body to relax. Relief overtook him.
He could feel her again.
A few long moments passed before Wanda quickly started to look around her, her eyes wide. "Where… where am I…?"
Vision smiled faintly, gently squeezing her hand he still held. "Wanda…"
Wanda quickly turned to face him, and her pain, her fear, her confusion, washed over him in waves. "Vis…? What…?" Then, her eyes widened in horror as she covered her mouth with a shaking hand, tears filling her eyes as she took in his appearance. "Oh, my God… Vis… Did… did I…?"
The android's smile broadened as he reached out and wiped away a couple of her tears that quickly fell. "It is all right, Wanda…" he murmured. "It was not you… not really…"
"It was, though…" Wanda watched as the android struggled to sit up, letting go of his hand to gently ease him up into a sitting position even as her own body continued to tremble. She kept a tight hold on him when he leaned back against her, resting his head weakly on her shoulder. She closed her eyes as more tears fell, pressing her forehead against the top of his. "I… I remember, Vis… It all looked and felt so real… I was in Sokovia again, back in Strucker's lab… All I could see were him, and… and Fennhoff, and… Pietro was here with me, undergoing more experiments, and… and we were going to… to kill them all, and…"
"Shh… You will only upset yourself further, dear." Vision looked up at her with weary eyes, ensuring she met his gaze. "You know better than most the sort of weapons Fennhoff possesses… None of you were expecting someone working for him to… to be here when you arrived… It was an ambush. What you were made to see, to do, was not you…"
"Wasn't it?" Wanda gave him a sad, shaky smile as a couple more tears fell. She took a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. "Yes, I know that the gas makes you hallucinate. Makes you relive your worst nightmares and makes them real. But… what I felt was real, Vis… The rage, the hate… that's all there. Deep down, I feel those things… The gas just brought them out, made me act on them…"
The android's gaze faltered as he looked away briefly.
Wanda sniffed with a mirthless chuckle. "I don't blame you if you hate me now…"
"I could not." Vision turned back to her, reaching up as he set his hand lightly on the back of her neck and softly brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Wanda… the world may see you as this monster that is meant to be feared, but… I do not see you that way. These emotions you feel do not make you a monster. Having emotions is what separates you from the monsters who have done these things to you… and you are right to have them. What you and your brother endured at the hands of Strucker and Fennhoff are things no one should ever endure. Losing your brother, that part of yourself… it is a pain that will always be there." He smiled slightly when she looked at him uncertainly. "Instead of giving into the hatred and the anger, you are using what you have been through for good. Do not let anything sway you from how you have turned your life around for the better, dear."
Wanda took a deep, shuddering breath. "But… but I…" She paused when her tears choked her up. "Vis… I thought I could feel you near, but… I couldn't see you… And I… I hurt you… Oh, God, I could have killed you, Vis…"
The android shook his head, his smile lingering. "You could never," he whispered.
A moment passed where they simply sat close together, their heads lightly touching as Wanda attempted to regain herself. Then, with another quiet sniff, she raised her gaze to the Stone in his forehead, and she slowly raised a shaking hand to where she was almost touching it. Vision watched her curiously as the Stone glowed faintly in response to her closeness, and she closed her eyes as she focused on the ties that connected hem. A gentle scarlet energy appeared around her fingers, the thin tendrils twirling around the yellow light as they entered the Stone. She passed him her strength, hoping to help him heal. She willed him to feel warmth, to feel the happiness she felt whenever she was with him, to feel the peace his presence gave her, the heartfelt affection she had for him…
… Or was it love? Could it be love…?
Vision's hand lightly gripping her wrist brought her out of her thoughts. "That is enough, Wanda dear," he advised. "You do not have much strength. Do not waste it on my account."
It wasn't a waste. It could never be, not for him. But Wanda found she couldn't speak the words aloud as she opened her eyes to meet his brighter gaze, and she realized just how exhausted she was from the gas itself. Though she was just relieved to see that the android looked more like himself again. "How… how do you feel…?" she wondered hesitantly.
Vision smiled in return. "I feel you."
Wanda tried to return the look before her eyes drooped closed. "That's not an answer…" she mumbled, her head dropping forward onto her chest.
The android shifted so that he was now supporting her, his arms secure around her while she curled up against his chest. He pressed his lips lightly to the top of her head. "Perhaps not," he agreed quietly. "Though it is the one that matters."
The words caused a smile to spread across her face, allowing herself to revel in the security and warmth of him as she nestled closer to him. But then, her eyes snapped open with a gasp. She reached for the comm in her ear, feeling it was missing and realizing she must have destroyed it. "What about Clint? Scott?"
Vision nodded once. "The others will bring them to safety," he told her.
"Others?"
"Sam, Natasha, and Captain Rogers are also here," the android informed her. "Clint and Mr. Lang will be all right."
Wanda let out a relieved sigh as she nodded once. With Steve leading a rescue mission, her friends would be all right without her. Probably better off even, if she thought about it. She had no idea what sort of damage she'd caused in the warehouse…
Vision smiled slightly as he watched her close her eyes and rest against his chest again. "Let's get you out of here," he murmured. When he only got a quiet sound of agreement in return, his cape appeared around his shoulders. He wrapped it around her, cradling her closer as he lifted her into his arms and headed toward the fastest route to safety.
The lights around him stopped flickering as the warehouse itself seemed to settle. Sam sighed with relief as he hurried down the hallway in the direction of the basement, knowing that was where Scott was likely to be judging by the security feed they'd been shown. Vision must have gotten to Wanda and had been able to calm her down. Which was a relief, since the energy that had been crackling through the place had had him concerned that the whole thing could've come crashing down at any moment. So that was one less thing to worry about.
He adjusted his mask, making sure that his nose and mouth were both fully covered as he reached the door that led down to the basement, the staircase light still flickering, before he began to run down. It was cold, he noticed immediately, as he reached the bottom of the steps and hurried through the door into the storage area.
"Yo, Tic Tac!" Sam called, his gaze passing over all the disheveled cardboard boxes scattered across the room. A fine, light-colored mist seeping in through the vents above his head permeated the room. He noticed that the other man's Ant-Man helmet was resting on a table next to the door, and he picked it up to give it back to its rightful owner. His goggles picked up a life force off to his right, and he hurried over to the cracked-open freezer door. He slowly pushed it open the rest of the way, and his eyes widened when he caught sight of Scott near the back wall, scratching and clawing at the frozen ground with his gloved hands.
"Cassie… come on… just say something… anything… come on, peanut… oh, God… Cassie…"
Who was Cassie?
Sam hurried forward and dropped to a knee beside the other man, setting a steady hand on his shoulder. "Hey, come on, man… Let's get you out of here…"
But the ex-con pulled away from his touch, continuing his frantic search for this elusive Cassie. "N-no… she's here somewhere, she… She can't be gone… I-I can't… Cassie!"
"We'll find her, man," Sam told him, attempting to remain calm. His brow furrowed when he saw the clear distress on Scott's face, the thin line of tears in his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was seeing as a result of the gas, but whatever it was, he did know that whoever this Cassie was was important to him. "But you need to listen to me now. We need to get out of here. We're in the creepy basement of an old warehouse. We're actually in a freaking freezer. So before we freeze our asses off, we need to leave."
But Scott shook his head as a couple tears trailed down his cheek. Sam wasn't even sure if he'd heard him, or worse, even recognized him. "Cassie… she shouldn't have… I gotta find her… I gotta bring her back…"
Not sure if it would help but knowing he had to do something, Sam took a deep breath before he reached out and slapped the ex-con across the face. It wasn't the first time he'd found himself with someone who was so lost in themselves that they needed a little help in being brought back to reality, and the small, sharp contact had helped in some of these cases. Since he was dealing with an exterior force in the gas, he was a little more hopeful that it would get him somewhere now.
"Scott. Listen to what I'm saying," he said firmly. He couldn't play into the illusions for his sake. "I don't know who Cassie is, but she ain't here. It's just you and me. And a couple other super people, and possibly someone working for a mad man who wants to kills us all, I don't know. But right now, it's just you and me. I need you to focus on that, can you do that? We're on our own in the basement of an old, creepy warehouse. You've been exposed to a hallucinogenic, so whatever you're seeing, it ain't real. All right? You can't let Fennhoff beat you, Tic Tac. I know you can beat him. You with me?"
A moment passed where Scott didn't say a word, but his frantic movements, his search for whoever Cassie was, stilled. It was a small improvement, but one he would definitely take.
The ex-con then groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head a bit as he slumped forward. Sam immediately reached out and caught him before he could hit the hard, icy ground. He wasn't sure if the other man had just tired himself out, or if the gas also caused any sorts of physical weakness other than the hallucinations it caused.
"… Where… where am I…?"
Sam smiled slightly. "We'll talk about it once we get out of here," he told him. "But we gotta do that first. Can you stand?"
Scott looked back at him, and Sam noticed the dim, faraway look in his eyes as confusion crossed his face. There was still no indication that he recognized him at all. "I… I don't know…" He looked around them, his brow furrowing.
"All right. I'll help ya. Just work with me, Tic Tac." Sam wrapped an arm sturdily around him, making sure to keep a hold of the other man's helmet. "On the count of three, okay? One. Two. Three."
It took a little effort, but Sam managed to get both of them on their feet. Scott immediately leaned into him with a shuddering breath, and he took his arm and wrapped it around his neck to help support him. "Hey, hold onto this for me, will ya?" the latter asked, offering the Ant-Man helmet to its owner. Scott looked down at it with confusion before taking it in his free hand. Sam then tightened his hold around the ex-con's waist. "All right. Come on, man, let's go…"
Scott didn't say a word as he allowed himself to be led out of the freezer, his steps slow and unsteady as he nearly slipped on the icy floor. Sam made sure to keep him on his feet, staring straight ahead of them as they entered the basement and made their way toward the staircase that would bring them out of this nightmare.
"All right, Tic Tac. One step at a time now, okay?"
The other man didn't respond as they staggered their way up the first few steps, cringing in pain as he stumbled and crashed to a knee while nearly dropping his helmet.
Sam sighed, adjusting his hold on the other man to try to find a better way of supporting him. "It's all right, just take it easy…" he murmured, glancing nervously at the light mist still seeping into the room. "One step at a time… okay?"
But the ex-con just shook his head, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He looked behind them at the open door of the freezer, a lost, defeated, and almost haunted look in his eye as he took in whatever it was that he was seeing. A couple more tears fell and ran down his cheeks.
"… I'm so sorry, peanut…"
As soon as the quinjet landed in the back of the dark, nearly empty parking lot save for a familiar black car, Natasha was on her feet and pushing the controls that would open the door. She hurried down the ramp, pausing only briefly to make sure the facial mask was covering her nose and mouth completely before she started to cross the lot at a quick pace. Her sharp gaze scanned the warehouse looming before her intently, though she noticed that there were no more flashes of crimson. There were no other signs of life.
Which, she realized, could either be a good or bad thing for them.
The image of Clint struggling with a broken arrow deep in his leg flashed through her mind, and she shuddered. There were many things he could possibly be seeing, could be fighting against, because of the gas, and each possibility was worse than the last. Hold on, Clint… I'll be there in a minute… Don't let Fennhoff win… please…
The former KGB agent stopped when her foot brushed something hard and heavy, causing whatever it was to clatter against the asphalt as it skidded a little bit away from her. She looked down, her eyes widening when she recognized the red and silver drone as she reached out and gingerly picked him up. Redwing. At least they now knew where he was. But what concerned her was that he had been compromised at all. She'd have to return him to Sam when she got the chance.
Natasha glanced behind her at the quinjet, seeing that Steve still wasn't following her. While she wondered what was keeping him, she knew that he'd be fine and that he'd catch up with her when he could. She had to get to Clint.
When she drew closer to the warehouse, she saw that Vision was kneeling on the ground with Wanda in his arms. She was leaning heavily against him, his cape wrapped around her protectively. The android wasn't saying a word, but the Stone in the center of his forehead was faintly glowing. Despite the tears that were still silently falling from her eyes, despite the shock and the fear that was still so plain on her face, she was staring at the yellow light as though transfixed. She slowly reached out and brushed the Stone with her fingertips. They both appeared to be the worse for wear, but at the affectionate, intimate contact, Vision gave her a small, comforting smile, and a sense of ease seemed to pass over Wanda as she attempted to return the look.
At least the younger woman seemed calmer and had been extracted from the situation so that the warehouse was now stabilized. But still, Natasha couldn't bring herself to be comforted, not completely. Not yet. Not everyone was out yet…
Then, she quickly looked up when the front door opened, and she watched as Sam brought a clearly distraught and still panicked Scott out to the parking lot. "It's all right, Tic Tac," the former muttered as he lowered his facial mask, trying to keep the ex-con steady as he dropped his helmet and attempted to scramble away. "We're outta there now. I've got you, man… Just breathe. Breathe in that fresh air, okay, man? That'll help clear it out…"
"Sam!" Natasha hurried over to them. She was nearly knocked off balance when Scott bumped into her as he continued to attempt to escape. "Did you see Clint?"
A moment passed before Sam met her gaze. She knew by the hesitation in his eyes that his answer wasn't going to be a good one. "No, I didn't," he said, looking down when Scott finally dropped to his knees as a broken sob escaped from him. He crouched next to him, setting a secure hand on his shoulder. "I thought I might have seen another body on my radar on our way out… somewhere on the second floor, but… I gotta tell you, Nat. It wasn't very… vibrant."
A cold dread settled in Natasha's chest as she turned back to the warehouse. Not very vibrant wasn't a good indication…
"Oh, hey, you found him." Sam reached out and carefully took Redwing from her, though Natasha barely noticed. "I'll check him out, see what happened to cause the interference, when we're back on the jet…"
At that moment, Scott shrugged Sam's hand away as he crawled desperately away from them. But he came to a stop when another pair of strong hands grasped his shoulders. He fought against them for a moment before accepting it as another quiet sob escaped from him.
"It's all right, Lang," Steve said gently from where he was crouched in front of him, a sad look passing over his face as he held onto the other man as he trembled. "It'll wear off soon. Just breathe for me. Deep breaths, now…"
Natasha looked back at him, not having even heard him approach. Her brow furrowed. "Where's your mask?" she pressed.
"Strap broke," the Captain told her, keeping his attention on Scott.
She cursed under her breath. That was all she needed to know that she was going in alone, at least for the time being. The assassin hardly heard Sam offer the other man his mask while Steve told him to watch after Scott as she ran to the warehouse and disappeared through the door her friends had escaped through without looking back.
Clint needed her. She refused to believe that it was too late to get him out. She couldn't leave him behind. He hadn't left her behind when he could have…
The halls were empty and silent as she quickly made her way through them, a fact that was concerning to her in itself. There had to be some sort of sign of life from him, there had to be…
"Clint!" Natasha yelled as she reached a place where a second hall met the dark one she was in. "Clint, where are you?" She came to a stop in a pile of glass shards, quickly glancing above her head to see that the lights had shattered. She glanced to her right, seeing a broken vending machine was at the very end of this hall. And across from it, she could vaguely make out a set of stairs in the faint moonlight.
Second floor. Sam had said he'd seen a lingering trace of life somewhere on the second floor, and the vending machine looked familiar from the security feed…
Natasha pulled a small pocket flashlight out of her vest and aimed it down the hall that led to the stairs, her eyes widening when she saw the fine, light-colored mist that had filled the space. There was no doubt in her mind that the archer had been here. She hurried down the hall, grateful that her face was covered with how much of the hallucinogenic there was, before she came to a stop at the foot of the steps when a few spots and smears of dark crimson caught her eye. Her heart sank as she directed the flashlight beam toward them.
Blood. And a healthy amount of it.
"Clint!"
When she still got no answer, Natasha took the stairs two at a time– doing her best to ignore the trail of blood splatter that was leading her to her destination– until she reached the second level. She nearly tripped over something when she took a few steps down the hall, and the thin beam of the flashlight revealed a weapon she knew all too well.
The assassin bent down and picked up the familiar black bow. There was even more blood around it. She folded up the weapon and put it in her vest for safe keeping.
"Clint!"
She did a quick sweep of the hallway with the flashlight adding to the faint moonlight, and her heart nearly stopped when she caught sight of something a bit further down the hall. A lifeless human body– once she knew immediately.
"Clint!"
Natasha sprinted ahead as quickly as she could and dropped to her knees next to the archer, who was lying on his back on the floor with his face turned away from her. She gasped when she saw the arrow that was deep in his chest, his dark tank top stained with blood, and when she realized she was kneeling in more of the very life that was slowly seeping out of him.
Hesitating only briefly, she reached out and set two fingers on the side of Clint's neck to check for a pulse, holding her breath since she was uncertain of what she would find. She wasn't even sure if he was breathing since he was lying much too still…
"Come on, Clint, don't do this to me… Breathe, Barton…"
She let out a sigh of relief when she saw his chest briefly rise and fall, dread flowing through her when she finally found his pulse but felt it was much took quick and very faint.
He wouldn't last much longer.
No… She couldn't let herself think that. She would save him. She had to…
"Clint, can you hear me?" the assassin wondered, reaching her hand out and carefully turning his head so that she could see his face. Her gaze faltered when she saw how deathly pale he was, but then her eyes widened when she noticed the thin trails of blood coming from his ears. "Clint, please… give me something, here…"
However, she received no response from the archer. But she refused to give up on him. Natasha brushed her thumb over his cheek, concerned when she felt that his skin was cool and clammy to the touch. She carefully lifted one of his eyelids, seeing in the light from her flashlight that that pupil was enlarged. She balanced it between her cheek and her shoulder before setting her now free hand on his chest, not too far from the arrow, feeling that his body was trembling ever so slightly.
He was slipping into shock.
Natasha cursed under her breath, knowing that she was going to need some help getting him to safety in his condition. "Steve!" she called, hoping that the Super Soldier had been able to get into the warehouse. But the first floor was silent.
Which was also a good thing. She knew that the archer couldn't have possibly caused this injury to himself, and with all of her senses on overdrive, she knew that the two of them were alone. Whoever she had seen on the security feed, whoever had attacked her best friend, was nowhere to be seen.
The assassin turned her attention back to Clint, focusing on the arrow in his chest. If he was going to be moved as safely as possible, that would have to be broken down. She couldn't risk jostling it at all, not with its location…
Natasha sighed, reaching out and grasping the arrow shaft with both hands. It wasn't the first time she'd been in this position. There had been a couple of times on missions, one in Budapest that she remembered vividly, where she'd had to help him tend to the arrow wounds like this when he'd been injured. But not on her own. Not when the arrow was in such a critical spot. Not when his condition was already so grievous…
She shook her head slightly, taking a deep, steadying breath as she attempted to calm down. She had to for his sake. She couldn't be distracted. If she should slip…
It was a thought she shut down immediately. It was one she couldn't afford.
"I'm sorry, Clint… This is gonna hurt," she whispered. She held her breath, waited for her heartbeat to even out. Then, keeping the arrow as still as possible by the entry wound with one hand, she quickly snapped it with her other.
A violent tremor traveled through Clint's body at the action, and distress crossed his face as a pained whimper broke through his lips. At least there was a sign of life… His trembling became more severe, his breath came shakily as he gasped for air.
The assassin reached out for him after she tossed the piece of the arrow aside and set the flashlight down, seeing that her hands were covered in his blood, and carefully brought him close to her. She cradled his head against her shoulder, wrapping her other arm as securely as she could around him so as not to cause any further injury as she attempted to keep him as still as possible.
"It's all right, Clint. I'm right here," she murmured, resting her forehead against he top of his. "Help will be here soon… okay? You're gonna be fine…" At least, that's what she had to tell him. For herself. She closed her eyes, unable to do anything more as he continued to shake against her, his breathing growing more and more labored.
"… Don't you dare leave me now, Barton…" she hissed angrily. "So help me God, I will never forgive you if you do…"
Then, she lifted her head a little when she heard that he was mumbling something, his weak, rough voice anxious. "What? Clint, I can't hear you…"
Clint took a few more rapid breaths before he tried to speak again, his lips trembling with effort. "… B… B-Barney…"
Natasha's eyes narrowed when she heard the name of his older brother, knowing that whatever he'd seen involving him because of the gas couldn't have been good. She gently shushed him, brushing her fingers through his hair in a calming motion. "Not even close, it's Tasha," she quipped quietly, chuckling a little as she tried to keep her tone light for him. He'd been through hell, he didn't need her freaking out on him, too. "Nice try, though."
A minute passed before Clint's eyes slowly fluttered open. Her heart could have broken open in relief. His harsh breath quickened a bit as he looked around them with wide, glazed eyes until his gaze landed on the assassin's face near his. He stared up at her for a long moment, his brow furrowed in confusion, and he looked around them one more time before he came to rest on her again. She wondered if her blonde hair and the mask covering half her face were making it harder for him to recognize her in his state. While she hadn't seen any of Fennhoff's hallucinogenic gas on the second floor, she couldn't risk taking the mask off, just in case. She couldn't help him if she were to be exposed, too.
But then, his eyes cleared ever so slightly when they focused on here. "Ta… Tasha…?"
Natasha tightened her hold on him, careful of the arrow. "Yup, you got it," she said brightly. "How are you feeling, Clint?"
The archer didn't move his gaze from what was visible of her face for another moment before he reached out a weak, trembling hand and touched her arm. As though he was trying to reassure himself that she was real. When he seemed to accept that she was, the creases in his forehead eased a bit, and he allowed his still shaking body to relax a little in her arms.
The assassin breathed a sigh of relief. "Clint, just hold on for a little longer, okay? Help should be on the–!"
Clint suddenly tensed, a quiet cry of pain breaking through his lips as his face paled further. A couple of violent tremors racked his frame as he grasped t the arrow still in his chest. Natasha lightly took his hand and moved it away from the wound so that he wouldn't accidentally hurt himself further before she attempted to steady and calm him as she carefully secured her hold around him.
"Whoa, Clint, try not to move so–!"
"N-no… no…" The archer seemed not to hear her as he then started to frantically try to push her away, though there was no strength behind the action. He quickly looked around them again, his eyes slightly wide as he appeared to be on the lookout for some sort of impending threat. "N-Nat… you have to… you ha-have to g-go…"
Natasha's eyes narrowed as she kept her hold on him despite his efforts to make her leave. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm not…"
"N-no… You don't understand…" Clint continued, once again speaking right over her. His words came out in a rush between his gasps for breath. He pushed at her arm again, desperate to get her away from him. "He'll be… he'll be back… Nat, he wants m-me dead… n-not you…"
"Clint… I'm not going anywhere," Natasha murmured, and the archer gave up on trying to get out of her hold as he weakly collapsed against her. "No one's going to hurt either one of us." At least, she didn't think so. She hadn't seen any sign of any hostiles, and neither Sam or Vision had seen any indication of anyone else when they'd been in the warehouse.
He briefly shook his head. "Can't… can't you hear m-me… Ta-Tasha?" he asked quietly, his voice hardly more than a whisper now as he stared blankly ahead of him. There was a slight rattle to his breath now, and speaking sounded like it was more difficult for him. His lips were starting to take on a blue-ish tinge. "You… you ha-have to… to get o-out… to safety… I-I… I can't let him… h-hurt y-you... I'll be a-all right… P-promise…"
"And just like we swore to each other years ago, I'm not leaving you behind." Natasha hoped that if anything would get through to him, the promise they'd made to each other when she'd first joined S.H.I.E.L.D., after everything they'd been through together with Fennhoff, would. But her mind went back to the first thing her best friend had said, and she knew exactly who he believed he was trying to protect her from. Even if he wasn't really there.
Barney.
Natasha felt a thin line of tears threatening to form in her eyes, but she forced them back. That's who he was so convinced was there, who he believed would harm her if she didn't leave. The gas must have made him relieve the rough patches of their relationship, all due to the guilt she very well knew he'd always harbored about what had happened to the older man. But just like the archer when his mind was clear, she was also very aware that Barney Barton was dead and had been for quite a few years. She had been on the hospital rooftop the night the older archer had given his life in a hail of gunfire to protect Clint. She had been with her best friend during his memorial, holding his hand all the way through when his guilt had threatened to devour him alive. There was no possible way that the real Barney Barton had been roaming the halls of the warehouse that night.
"Clint… this isn't real," she murmured gently, unable to keep her voice quite as controlled as she wanted to as she reached out and calmly stroked his hair. "None of this is… Barney… it isn't real. Fennhoff's gas is making you see him. Don't let him win. Please, listen to me now. You need to save your strength."
All of the fight seemed to leave Clint then as he relaxed under her touch. For a moment, the assassin believed she'd finally managed to get through to him as his eyes began to droop closed.
But then, Clint's body seized up as a rough scream of pain escaped from him, and he gripped his head as tightly as he could and squeezed his eyes shut. Natasha tightened her hold on him.
"Clint, what's wrong?" she asked anxiously. Her main concern had been the arrow in his chest. She'd nearly forgotten about the blood that had been leaking from his ears or any potential physical side effects of the gas itself.
"It…" The archer tried speaking before another weak pained sound escaped from him. He then looked up at the former KGB agent, and she could see the look of wide-eyed horror pass over his face. "I… N-Nat, I… I can't… hear you… Just…" His sentence ended in another soft cry of pain.
Natasha's brow furrowed with worry. "You can't… Have you been unable to hear me this whole time? Clint!"
The only answer she received was a whimper followed by a frustrated sound.
Letting out a slightly shaking breath, Natasha carefully pulled him closer to her. Clint reached out for her, grabbing her hand weakly. Like a lifeline. She held his tightly as she ran her free hand through his hair. She watched with fear as he left out a shuddering, rattling breath while his eyes rolled back into his head, unable to do anything as he fell back into the depths of his darkest memories, too far out of reach of her.
"… Barney… I… I'm sorry… B-Barney…"
Feeling tears threatening to return, Natasha held his hand securely between them as she tightened her hold on his trembling body in effort to provide warmth, to keep him as still as possible, as he slipped further into shock. "I'm right here," she attempted to soothe him, even though now she wasn't sure if he could hear her or not. She hoped her presence would be enough. "Don't leave me, Barton… Please… Remember our promise."
It was then she heard hurried footsteps coming from the floor beneath them. She tensed, every sense on high alert as she made a mental note of where all her weapons were and which would be the easiest to grab in her position.
Her pistol was…
"Nat!"
The assassin let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sound of her name, closing her eyes as she briefly rested her forehead against the top of Clint's head before raising it again. "Steve!" she called back. "We're upstairs! Hurry!"
A moment passed before she heard his quick, heavy footsteps on the staircase nearby. The Super Soldier appeared a moment later, and he instantly paused when he took in the amount of blood on the floor around them as well as the archer's condition.
"Oh, my God…"
"We have to hurry," Natasha told him urgently, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "He's in shock. But you have to be careful lifting him… Besides the arrow in his leg, there's this… this other one… If it gets moved too much, it could puncture a lung, or…"
Steve hurried over, dropping to a knee and picking up the assassin's flashlight to get a closer look at Clint. His face, or at least what she could see of it with the mask, was grave as he studied the archer's ashen face and trembling frame along with the amount of blood coming from the two arrow wounds. "What about this?" he wondered, pointing to the thin trail of crimson that leaked from his ear.
"I… I don't know…" Natasha cleared her throat. "Ruptured eardrum, maybe… His other ear's the same. He said he couldn't hear me…"
The Captain nodded as he lowered the flashlight. "All right. I'll take him from here."
All the former KGB agent could do was watch without a word as Steve reached out, carefully taking Clint from her arms and slowly lifting him into his, ensuring that one arm was secure behind his back and the other beneath his knees so that neither arrow wound would be jostled too much as he rose to his feet. The archer's head lolled limply against the other man's broad shoulder, not making a sound as his body continued to shake. The Super Soldier glanced back at where Natasha was still kneeling on the ground in the puddle of crimson, seemingly in shock herself.
"We need to get him to the jet," he gently reminded her. "Vision and Sam already have Wanda and Lang settled in there."
The assassin simply nodded, her voice seemingly lost to her as she watched Steve carefully take Clint away from her as they disappeared down the stairs. She easily trusted him with her best friend's life.
It took her a moment longer to move, having to remind her uncooperative limbs how to do it, but she finally managed to push herself to her feet and looked around at the dark, silent hall. She picked up her flashlight, seeing that her hands were nearly stained completely red with Clint's blood before she wiped the moisture from her eyes with her sleeve. She'd blame it on the layers of dust in the warehouse to anyone else besides the Captain who happened to see.
At the sound of Steve's voice calling her name from below, Natasha felt herself spurred forward as she followed him, leaving this place of tortured memories behind her.
Tony hummed quietly to himself as he picked the light green colored pencil from the box and started filling in the scales of the fish in the coloring book he had, sticking his tongue between his teeth in concentration and swinging his short legs while he worked. His godmother had left the coloring book for him while his father was in a meeting with other important S.H.I.E.L.D. officials, though he felt like it was taking a little longer than expected. He knew Howard had many important things to do since he was a big part of what kept the organization running, but he wished that he wouldn't have to be here so much. He wished that he could see him just a little more. He'd been sitting alone in his office since he'd eaten lunch and had hardly seen him all day.
A light, gentle hand on his back caused him to gasp, startled. But the touch was familiar and welcoming, and he leaned back into its warmth.
"How's my little man doing?" the kind English accent he'd been expecting asked.
Tony smiled as he looked up at the beaming face of his godmother. His gaze passed over her ruby red lipstick, shining eyes, and slightly waved curtain of dark hair. It was a face he loved. "Okay," he answered, swinging his legs a couple more times. "Thanks, Aunt Peggy. I'm just a little hungry."
Peggy Carter smiled back. "Well, it just so happens you're in luck," she told him. "A field agent is always prepared."
The little boy watched as she produced a juice box, string cheese, and fresh apple slices from behind her back. His grin broadened as he reached out for the snack. "Thank you!"
Chuckling, Peggy ruffled his hair before she leaned forward to get a better look at the coloring book. "That looks like a very interesting fish," she said.
Tony followed her gaze as he sipped from his juice box. "I don't know what color to make the rest of the scales," he muttered. "Or the fins."
"Hmm." Peggy's brow furrowed, a sign that she was deep in thought. "How about…" She reached for the box of colored pencils, pulling out a dark purple one. "This one?"
"Purple?" Tony scrunched his nose before shoving an apple slice in his mouth. "Why?"
"Why? Because it goes very well with green." Peggy laughed when she saw him arch a critical eyebrow. She couldn't help but think that he looked so much like Howard when he did that. "Don't believe me? Watch."
Tony reached a small hand out to stop her, but she was quicker as she swiftly filled in a scale next to one of his green ones. She then pulled back with a triumphant smile. "See?"
The little boy leaned a bit closer to the coloring book, scrutinizing her neat work. He then nodded, taking the purple pencil from her and coloring more of the left over scales. "What about the fins?" he wondered.
"Hmm, well, let's see…"
But before Peggy could choose a color, there was a knock on the open office door. Tony looked up to see a couple officers he didn't recognize. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Agent Carter, but there's a matter requiring your immediate attention."
"Thank you, I'll be right there," Peggy said. She watched the two men leave before turning back to her godson, seeing that he was looking back up at her with a long face. She sighed. "I'm sorry, little man," she murmured, setting a manicured hand on his shoulder before leaving a light kiss on top of his head. "I'll be back as soon as I can, all right? Maybe I'll urge your father to cut his meeting short, it ran a little over."
Tony just nodded, leaning into her. "It's okay. I understand. I know it's urgent and you can fix whatever it is."
Peggy laughed. "You're a little charmer, just like your father." She set a hand on his cheek. "One of us will be here in a little bit. Okay?"
"Okay." Tony watched after her as she left the office, sighing before popping another apple slice in his mouth and returning to filling in the rest of the scales with the purple pencil. He was just starting to work on the string cheese and trying to decide what color he should use for the fins when a lightly accented, cheerful voice came from behind him.
"How about a nice red or black?"
The little boy quickly looked up, seeing that the older man's face was hidden in shadow. But he could feel his kind smile and twinkling eyes, and he grinned up at his friend. He reached out for the pencils he'd suggested, and the man chuckled as he set a wrinkled, secure hand on his shoulder.
"That a boy."
Fennhoff stood against the wall of the small room, absently watching as people under his employ moved out all the props that had recreated the Stark family living room, including the large chessboard his captive had thrown all over the place. That was something he was going to miss using– it was a good tool to show Tony what he'd lost, and what could still be lost– but it just wouldn't fit well in the next phase of the plan. He could possibly use it later, but it was time for a scene change.
His gaze then moved to the man in question, seeing that Tony was still lying unmoving on the floor where he'd passed out. The tears had dried on his cheeks, but distress crossed his wan features as a tremor moved through his body. His lips moved frantically as he mumbled something in his sleep, his brow furrowed the words hardly more than a breath.
The doctor then watched as Arsen and Bao entered the room again, back to being in full costume. The latter stopped by the thermostat near the door, turning it way down, before they both joined him. "Where is your third partner?" he wondered.
Arsen chuckled, brushing some of his dark hair out of his eyes. "He'll join us in a bit," he told him. "He's having a little trouble with the prosthetic and white wig."
"It went all right by the harbor, and I am certain it will again," Fennhoff muttered. He then reached out a wrinkled hand and straightened Arsen's black tactical vest and wiped a smudge from his metal arm before ensuring that Bao's blue Captain America helmet was on securely. He then glanced behind them to see that another of his men was bringing in the old computer monitor– equipped with some very specific security footage that a grieving Helmut Zemo had been able to retrieve and that his men had been able to procure a copy of– that would prove very useful in the next stage of operations.
The old man glanced down at Tony once again as he shifted a bit on the floor but didn't wake. He inclined his head a little, able to make out what he was saying this time.
"… D…. Da-Dad…"
A grin spread across Fennhoff's face. "That a boy," he said, mainly to himself. "Don't fret, Mr. Stark. I believe you may be seeing him again a bit sooner than you may think."
He then turned to Arsen and Bao. "Get in position, we are nearly ready."
They both nodded. "Yes, Doctor."
Fennhoff then made his way toward the door, leaning on his cane with each step, just as a couple more of his men came in carrying a couple of large, heavy bags. He sighed under his breath, knowing it was going to be a pain to clean up, but also knowing that it would be worth it. His eyes moved up to the vents high on the walls above him as he reached the door, and his grin broadened.
"Let us begin."
Rhodey shook hands with the two police captains as they rose from their seats. "Thank you again for voicing your concerns with us, Colonel," the ginger man said. "I appreciate that you're keeping us up to date on what's going on with this… bizarre Tony Stark case. Not just with him being alive, but especially since you think a couple officers on our force are somehow involved…"
"At the very least, they're complacent," Rhodey replied. "Which still isn't a very good look."
"Not at all, we'll definitely be keeping an extra eye on everyone's movements," the blond captain assured him. "Especially the ones you have particular concerns about."
"I appreciate that. I just want to bring Tony home." The colonel absently rubbed at his chin in thought, the attack on him down at the harbor not far from his mind. "I appreciate y'alls help. The more eyes we can have on this, the better. We need as many people to bring this man in as possible. He's incredibly dangerous, from what I've been told. Especially if he's infiltrated other institutions. It's apparently something he's skilled at."
"Will do, Colonel. We'll alert you of anything we find here."
Before Rhodey could say anything more, both captains were alerted to an emergency call. Straining his ears a bit, he could just make out that it seemed to be some kind of vehicle explosion incident.
"Sorry to have to cut this short, but we have to take this," the red-haired man muttered, shaking Rhodey's hand one more time. "Pleasure as always, Colonel. We'll keep in touch."
"No problem, I can show myself out." Rhodey smiled as he shook the second captain's hand again, too. "It's always a pleasure, gentlemen." He watched as they both took off to take care of the call before grabbing his lightweight coat and draping it over his arm as he made his way out of the office. As soon as he stepped out into the hall, he stopped abruptly as he bumped into another officer.
"Sorry about that." But then, he inclined his head slightly when he took a closer look at the younger man. He looked familiar. "You're the kid from down at the harbor. Peterson, right?"
Peterson straightened up when he realized just who it was he'd bumped into. "Yes, Colonel Rhodes, sir," he told him.
Rhodey chuckled. "Please, it's just Rhodey," he muttered. "How is everything going down at the harbor?"
The young officer's gaze faltered. "A little slower since Mr. Stark's body was discovered," he answered. "Clean up efforts are still going, there have been some disturbance of the peace issues down there… Although…"
The colonel arched an eyebrow. "Yes?" he prompted.
Peterson met his eyes. "I have my suspicions about a couple people in the force," he muttered, his tone low as though he weren't supposed to speak about it aloud. "Possibly a reporter or two. I've got no hard evidence of it, but…"
"You've seen some suspicious things down there?" Rhodey wondered. When the young man nodded, he passed a hand over his face. He found it interesting that somebody, especially this rookie kid, shared in his view. Though he hadn't expected Fennhoff to have a hand on the media, he shouldn't have been surprised since that was a good way to drive the narrative of Spider-Man being guilty. If it were true. "Have you told anyone?"
"No, sir."
So he was afraid to speak out. Probably didn't know who he could trust. Also not surprising. Though it sounded like it would be good information to have. Rhodey took a step closer to the kid. "How about this?" he wondered, giving him a conspiratorial smirk. He had a trick up his sleeve. "How about you share your concerns with me since I have some similar ones. I've seen some shit down there, too. It can be… I don't know… we'll say Avengers stuff. How about it?" He hadn't forgotten how excited the younger man had been to meet War Machine.
Peterson's face brightened up despite himself. But before either of them could say anything more, Rhodey sighed when he felt his phone vibrate with a call. He pulled it out of his coat pocket, expecting to just disregard it, but his eyes narrowed when he saw it was Steve's untraceable phone.
Why would he possibly be calling?
… Unless it had something to do with Fennhoff…
"Sorry, son, but I gotta take this," the colonel said. "Give me a minute, and then we can talk?"
Peterson nodded. "Yeah, sure thing, Colonel."
"Thanks." Rhodey took a few steps down the hall so that he could have a private conversation before answering the call and bringing the phone to his ear. "What's going on?"
A moment passed as he listened to the Captain on the other end before his eyes widened in horror.
"Oh, God…"
Happy took a slow sip of his Mountain Dew, watching with bemusement as Peter started on a second crunchy taco across the table from him. They'd gone inside the Taco Bell after the incident in the parking lot since they'd promised the cops that had arrived to the scene that they wouldn't go far so they could still answer any questions they'd had about why his car had suddenly combusted, and the interior of the restaurant was abuzz with excitement over what had happened.
"Seriously, kid. How much can you eat?"
Peter took another bite of the taco, shrugging as he chewed and swallowed it. "Honestly, I didn't eat much at the diner," he told him. "But even if I had, I have a really fast metabolism after the whole, y'know, spider thing."
"Of course you do." The head of security reached out and took one of the cinnamon twists off his tray and stuffed it in his own mouth. "You don't need that."
Then, his cell phone rang, and Happy reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled it out. Glancing at the screen and seeing it was Rhodey, he quickly swallowed and answered. "Hello?"
"Where's Peter?" the colonel asked.
Happy glanced at the teen, hearing the urgency in the other man's voice. "Sitting across the table from me, stuffing his face with Taco Bell," he answered. "Why? What'd he do now?" Peter scrunched up his face and pointed at himself, causing the man to roll his eyes.
Rhodey sighed. "Nothing, jackass. Just needed to make sure he was safe."
The head of security frowned. "Yeah, we're find now," he told him.
"Now?"
Happy sighed. "See, I knew you were gonna freak. But really, it's nothing," he muttered, glancing around at the full restaurant lobby. "I'll explain everything more later, but something in the trunk of my car exploded, and–!"
"Exploded?" the colonel repeated. "That was you guys?"
"You heard about that?"
"I was at the police station when the call came in," Rhodey told him. "Of course it was you guys… Why am I not surprised?"
Happy rolled his eyes.
"So what exploded?" Rhodey pressed.
That's what we'll talk about later," Happy replied. "Now's not a good time. But what's going on? Why'd you need to know the kid was safe?"
"You need to get Peter to the Tower now," Rhodey explained.
"How? My car exploded," the head of security grumbled.
"Right, I'll pick you up. I'm on my way there now. Steve and the rest of his crew are, too. I already placed a call to Helen Cho at the Compound…"
"Cho?" Happy's brow furrowed at the doctor's name. "Is something wrong?"
Peter slowly stopped chewing another bite of his taco, hanging on every word since he could faintly make out the colonel's voice on the other end of the phone.
A long silence came from the other man. Happy sighed. "Rhodey! What's wrong?"
Another moment passed before Rhodey's response came, and Happy and the web-slinger exchanged wide-eyed looks.
"Clint's down."
Author's Note: Fennhoff's moving into another phase with Tony, Clint's not doing well, everyone else has been rescued, and everyone's gonna regroup to figure out where to go next. There were some little clues in here, which will continue as we move ahead now. We're starting to gear up for the last arc of this story, so it's only get crazier from here. All right, guys! With that said, your reviews are always much appreciated! Until next time, guys!