So, I'm acknowledging the fact that some of you guys don't actually read any of the PJO series, so I've decided to be gracious and write this crossover (yes, I know this means that I have more on my plate to finish, but meh). In order to deliver more happiness, along with a bit more cringeness, I am writing this crossover. Read on my Dorkchops. UWU

Chapter 1: En Garde!

Steve's POV

Rogers was sitting down at a long table in between a scowling Tony and a slightly amused Natasha. It had been approximately two months since the Chitauri had been swept away, and none of the Avengers had seen eachother since (well, except for the occasional run-in). Steve had been called by Fury that afternoon for an urgent meeting, though none of them knew what it was about yet.

The director in question was sitting down at the head of the table, staring in an aggravated way at a small, two-paper file.

"What is this about, Fury?"

Steve turned towards Banner, who had broken the silence from across the table. "I have to agree with ; why have you called us here, if I may ask?" he helped.

He looked up from the papers, stood up, and then threw both papers onto the table. Nat snatched one up, holding it upright in front of her so that those sitting near her could see; her eyes moved from left to right, reading the file. Steve decided to follow her example, reading the file in her hand:

"S.H.I.E.L.D. Report

"Multiple individuals have been seen in the past week tormenting the people of New York, along with Manhattan. All agents should be aware of the fact that they usually wear red clothes, favoring white masks with an upside down red eye in the middle. Witnesses have informed the authorities (some being under-cover agents) that these offenders usually wield weapons such as scyths, bows (with arrows), swords, and an assortment of weapons that are believed to have originated in Asia. So far, ten victims have been found (dead), while some missing persons are believed to share the same death. Every victim shows evidence of being quickly searched before being dumped in an area not too far away from the scene of the murder. No items have been observed to be taken yet, but that is still being questioned.

"It is under speculation that the offenders are well trained assassins, considering the fact that each of them wear the same clothing, except for a select few that are taller and show a more muscular appearance (note:these few only wield a large, two-handed katana-style sword). Some witnesses have stated that they were able to observe them speaking among themselves in an unknown language; witness Elman Odbang (this is a Evillious Chronicles character, btw) described the language as 'oddly close to Japanese, but possibly jointed with Latin,' prior to becoming a victim to the possible-assassins before further investigation.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has already been informed of the situation, and is trying to investigate away from the public eye. All agents have already been informed and deployed to their proper stations until further notice. All of New York and Manhattan, along with all surrounding areas, are regularly being patrolled and inspected in order to find any of the suspected assassins."

Steve looked up from the paper at the rest of the team, observing their reactions. Just as expected, most of them portrayed faces of shock and disgust, some even looking at it like a stain on a white shirt; a nuisance.

"Okay, so if I'm correct," Tony exclaimed sarcastically, obviously amused, "we are dealing with the Foot Clan. I wonder if Shredder will autograph my suit!"

Everyone stared at him blankly.

"What? You guys haven't heard of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles before? Come on; I can understand that Capsicle wouldn't, but that's just tasteless-"

"As much as I love your references, Stark," Fury sighed, "I do not want to hear them while we are being threatened by unknown assassins."

He scoffed. "Thanks, Eyepatch. Speaking of eyepatches, may I say, yours looks lovely today. Have you ever considered using pink? It would just go perfectly with the lack of color in your wardrobe. Oh, wait; you don't have much of a wardrobe, do you?"

The half-blind man narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw to keep from saying something that he would regret. "On with the problem, we are concerned about the fact that these assassins are Hydra agents."

"They do where red . . ." Nat thought aloud.

"Correct, Agent Romanoff," he praised. "We have no other information about them than what is in that file. None of them wear the Hydra emblem, so it is still debatable as to whether they are an independent group or not. But we do know one thing, for sure: they are definitely targeting someone, or something."

"What makes you think this?" Thor asked, sitting at the opposite end of the table.

"Well," Fury explained impatiently, "as the file stated, all victims found so far showed signs of being searched quickly, and none of the valuable items they possessed were taken. That file is currently being updated, but another witness that was later murdered told the police that they overheard them speaking, in english, about how they had to find a 'relic' that could help them defeat a certain person. Whoever that person is, we're also searching for them; they may be the end of this problem, one way or the other."

Steve stared, wide-eyed, at him. "That's . . . wrong, Fury. You . . . you aren't going to use the person as a peace offering, are you?"

"As much as I wouldn't want it to come to that, it might."

Clint sighed in annoyance. "You really are heartless, sometimes."

"I didn't ask for you opinion, Agent Barton."

"We have freedom of speech in this country," he deflected, crossing his arms and leaned back in his chair, "and I like to use it."

Banner cleared his throat, trying to stop something violent. "What exactly do you want to do about them?"

Fury's eyes snapped in his direction. "Well, I would like for you to stop them from attacking more people, and find out what they were trying to find. And when I say like, I mean-"

"-it's our job and you hold us accountable for any more murders. Yeah, yeah, we know," Tony interrupted. "And I'm sure that we all agree, right?"

Everyone at the table scanned each other's faces, considering such. Steve definitely had to agree to such; they couldn't just let these horrible people run around killing people. Not only was killing a person wrong (under most circumstances, that is), it was messy and would cause panic all around the country; even if it was just in those two places. Word could spread quickly, and it was only natural for common people to spread rumors and run around like chickens without their heads.

"See?"

Link's POV

The young hylian stared expectantly at the forest in front of him.

"Farore told you that the Yiga were trying to find a weapon in another world," Princess Zelda had told him, a worried look in her vibrant-green eyes. "I may be a descendant of Hylia, but that doesn't mean that I'm above the other goddesses. You must go there, even if I fear for you. Just be careful, please be careful!"

He sighed; he felt awful going on another question. Not because it would hurt him-he was forged to keep on fighting-but because he didn't want Zelda to worry about him again. Although they'd both made it out of the Calamity's malice alive, it had still taken its toll on both of them. Hyrule Castle was already being reconstructed-in fact, it was almost completed, and both were able to live there-and, because of Zelda being the remains of the Royal Family, she was trying harder than ever to reestablish the once-decaying kingdom. They were regaining the army, a court of well trusted individuals was already in function, and the representatives and Champions of each race had already been acknowledged and selected. All that was left was another quest, even if it further tormented them.

Link blinked himself out of his recollection of the events that had transpired in the past two months. Hyrule was surviving strong and steady, similar to the heartbeats of each of its residents; they could not fail now. The Yiga Clan were still around, but they were scattered and their numbers had depleted greatly in that amount of time. So, when the two Triforce-wielders discovered their plans, they had no other choice but to follow what Farore advised them to do.

Taking a step forward, he felt the moonlit dew on the grass slide on the leather of his boots. This forest was so familiar to him . . . it was the place where he learned how to hunt and cook again, along with how to fight, too. The Old Man-no, King Rhoam-had taught him these things with a still heart, his intentions to help the suffering-hero being pure (no, I am not shipping them; I'm acknowledging the fallen).

The snap of a twig made his ears twitch. Link turned in the direction of the sound, seeing a hog that hadn't noticed him yet. He had no need for a meal yet, so he let the creature stroll away, probably to eat some berries, or something. Making sure it was nowhere near him anymore, the hylian was on his way to Mount Hylia. Farore had told him before that if he wanted to stop the Yiga, he would have to find a portal at the King's gravestone. This would be his third time visiting earth; a land similar to his, but not quite. The cities smelled like pollution, and the buildings were the source of such a thing. Every street was bustling with odd carriages-cars, Farore called them. As part of his own safety, the portal only opened at night, and the goddess had taught Zelda and him as much about the place as possible.

After thirty more minutes of walking, he was able to feel the crunch of snow under his feet. Luckily, he was already wearing the Snowquill Tunic that he had obtained in Rito Village; he still had the doublet he had earned from King Rhoam, but it was torn and damaged in so many places that it wasn't worth any money or use. Link didn't want to sell it, anyway; it was something he had earned from cooking, so he was in no hurry to part with it.

He arrived at the gravestone that the King had once been standing next to; three small stones, with a tall and narrow one placed upright in between them. Link brushed the snow away from its surface, as if expecting there to be words engraved in the stone. It was a tradition that he had come up with for each time that he visited the mountain. It had no true meaning, really; it just felt right to do. Link looked to his left at a now-formed portal.

His brilliant blue eyes looked sea-green from the glow of the magic. "Goodbye, Hyrule," he muttered in Hylian Tongue under his breath.

Link didn't understand why the humans of earth favored so much technology over nature. The few animals he had seen looked either too pampered (similar to their owners), or digging desperately in a dumpster. It broke his heart to see such, but he had been told to not interfere with such, so he kept his mouth shut about it. And the people; they were almost an exact reflection of such. It was . . . horrible, to say the least.

However, the real reason why he was there was to bring an end to the Yiga; not poverty. They were searching for a piece of technology that had been left behind by a race that had tried to invade earth a few months prior, so-naturally-Link was sent to bring that all to an end.

He was standing on the top of an old, abandoned building (it's always the abandoned buildings, eh?), waiting for them to arrive. Whether they were planning on assassinating a person there, meeting a person, or scavenging for the artifacts, he had no idea; all he knew was that they would arrive and that they were driven by something impure. The muffled tapping of feet on the pavement next to the building caught Link's attention.

"So, are they here yet?" a deep voice rumbled.

The hylian moved towards the edge of the building quietly, peeking hesitantly over at the source of the noise. Standing below were two men; one being tall and broad shouldered, with dark skin, and the other being a few inches shorter with a thin, pencil like appearance. Many people in suits milled around them as discreetly as possible, carrying boxes and capsules with them into the building.

"No, sir," the thinner man answered obediently, readjusting the fedora on his head. "But, do not stress anything; we are a tad early."

Sophisticated speech and clothes; they must be wealthy or of high respects to be doing business with the Yiga, Link noted. Well, that is if they are trading with the Yiga.

The man who seemed to be his employer huffed in annoyance. "Alright. But if they aren't here by eleven, sharp-like I requested-the rest of it will be up to."

"What do you mean, if I may ask, sir?"

"I'll return to base, Abelard," he growled, turning around on his heel; not before rolling his eyes, though. "Abelard" followed behind him, dodging a few of the many men running around with packages; he looked awfully nervous. "Did you make sure to bring all of the equipment I requested for the exchange?"

"Y-yes, sir! I checked over everything with the Hydra agents; we managed to scrape together a few-"

"Good. Are their any-ah . . . setbacks?" he interrupted.

"No, sir. We have found no signs of them sabotaging the exchange."

"Wonderful," the man exclaimed, flashing a cruel smile. Abelard opened the door to the building for him, and he stepped in. "Hail Hydra!"

"Hail Hydra!"

Link stood up and stretched; short he may be, but that didn't mean that crouching down like that didn't aggravate his muscles. Thanks to the dark night, none of the people noticed him. He walked back over to the small, glass roof opening and looked back down. A few of the men from outside were now setting many instruments up around the space of the top floor, six or seven draping white lab coats over their shoulders. Link had no idea as to why they would need such for a simple trade (if it could be called that), unless they were going to provide a demonstration. Whatever happened, he knew blood would be spilled.

He turned his head to one side, listening to a new conversation below. Even for his pointed ears, it was very hard to hear, but he managed. All he caught was arrived, so long, and come in. Taking that as a hint enough, he deduced that the Yiga had made it. Horrah.

Link looked back down, red meeting the black and white of the room-only in the form of clothing, though. There wasn't much to do now but wait for them to trade and leave; then the hard part would begin.

Thor's POV

"Can you please explain to me why we can't bring Sir Banner, again?" Thor asked from the back of the van.

Tony sighed impatiently, fiddling with the buttons on multiple screens. "We want to keep the damage to a minimum, alright? Do you recall what Manhattan looked like after the Chitauri?"

"To be fair, that wasn't his fault."

"Eh, so-so."

He fidgeted uncomfortably; a van this size was definitely not appropriate for a man-or god-of his size. Why did the assassins have to take so long?

"Thor," Lady Natasha called from the passenger's seat, up front, "please stop bouncing your knee; you're making the van shake."

Thor noticed that he was moving so much and obliged. "Sorry," he muttered under his breath. Steve leaned forward in the driver's side seat, then looked back at them.

"I think they're here," he exclaimed.

Clint, who was sitting on one of the benches across from the god, made his way to the front, looking through the windshield. "Are those Hydra agents, Nat, or am I going insane?"

The spy raised an eyebrow, probably considering this, but answered him. "Yes, those are definitely Hydra personnel."

Tony pressed his hand to the collar of his metal suit, resulting in the head piece folding over his face. "So, are we going to attack, or what?"

Sir Rogers drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, obviously trying to decide. "Nat?"

"Yes; Clint, take out any sentries. Thor, if we go and there are any hostiles in the way, you know what to do (I felt like a spy just by writing that)," Natasha advised.

Thor's grip on his hammer tightened, ready to bash some heads in (Tyson rip-off, I know). "Yes, Lady Natasha."

"And, what about us?" Tony asked, gesturing towards Nat, Steve, and himself.

"Do the rest," Steve answered.

"What is 'the rest-'"

"He means we'll bargain for information and end the mission," the spy answered, her lips tugging upward.

"Wow, that was such an elegant description, ! Have you ever considered being an orator?" Tony beamed sarcastically.

She turned around to glare at him, her green eyes boiling with temporary resentment. "Don't."

Thor stared at Clint, who had just ended four or five sentries, without batting an eye. "Do you need any help?"

The agent glanced at him, amusement glittering in his eyes. "No."

"Alright, then."

Natasha opened the door, which was now vacant of any security. "After you, gentlemen."

Thor walked in first-being the braun, and all-and looked down a long, winding hallway. No doors; no agents. Nothing.

"That's . . . quite out of the ordinary," he exclaimed.

"What is out of the ordinary?" Steve asked.

"There's nothing here."

"What?" Tony shoved past him, standing directly in front of him-he didn't have to see his eyes to know that he was inspecting either sides. "There isn't anything here!"

"Did you think that I was wrong?"

Silence. "Maybe."

Clint pushed past Thor and walked to the left, an arrow noched and ready. "Slowpokes," he muttered in an amused tone under his breath.

Thor followed, cursing his tendency to pull them off track; it was obnoxious to all of them. The archer in front of him took a sharp turn to the right, his grip on the arrow visibly tightening. As the god turned the corner, he had to walk to the side in order to not run into him; he'd stopped in the middle of the hallway. The hallway they were in was short, and opened into a larger room filled with equipment, weapons, and . . . blood.

"What the hell . . . ?" Tony murmured from somewhere behind them.

Clint took a deep breath and kept moving, inspecting the mangled corpses that crossed paths with him-or was it the other way around? Thor followed his example and made sure to continue on with confidence, even if he was shocked by the new grimness of the situation. He saw the bodies of men dressed in red jumpsuits, some having sicles or another weapon hanging loosely from their limp hands; the other bodies were of men wearing once-clean suits, which were now drowned in crimson and an endless amount of gashes. Each one of them were completely limp, their eyes glazed over and their ears listening to nothing.

"Looks like we aren't the only people chasing down those assassins," Natasha observed, placing one of her hands on her hips.

He could almost hear Steve beam with realization. "Didn't Fury say that a person overheard them talking about an enemy of theirs'?"

"Yeah? Why do you ask?" Clint asked, turning his head in his direction.

"Well . . . this is just me assuming, but . . ."

"You think that this 'enemy' is the one who slaughtered the assassins, along with a bonus of Hydra agents?" Tony finished for him, impatience sharpening his voice.

"Yes, but if the sentries outside were untouched until we came, wouldn't that mean that the person could still be inside?"

The noise of an arrow hitting its mark sounded from behind them. On instinct, Thor turned just in time to see an assassin with an arrow jutting from his throat, and a figure running down the opposite hall at an inhuman speed. Thor ran past the part of the group behind him, chasing after the person, despite their shouts of protest. He was not scared of this person; he knew that he should, but he just couldn't find the dignity to feel such. If they really had done that to their enemies, then he was ready to set things right. One way or the other.

"Stop!" Thor bellowed, preparing himself to throw his hammer. "I will attack you!"

The person paid him no mind and rushed down another corridor, the pace they chose not changing in the slightest. True to his word, he chunked the hammer with all of his strength, but it missed the target greatly; it fell unceremoniously to the floor, but not before slamming into one of the walls. He ran past it, knowing that he could just bring it back to his hand with little effort.

The person took another turn, stopping in front of a dead end. He turned back towards him, giving Thor a good enough look of him; he was wearing a black and white cloak, a light blue tunic, beige pants, and brown boots. However, because of this, Thor was not able to see what the person's face looked like. All he could tell was that the person was most likely male, and not very broad shouldered (which he took as a hint of the person probably being a teenager). Splattered blood tainted the blue of his tunic, and whether it was his blood or that of the people he had slaughtered, Thor did not know. A bloodied sword and shield complimented his clothes well.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" the god questioned, his expression turning more hostile by the second. "What do you want from these people?!"

The person didn't show any sign of acknowledgement, the grip on their weapons tightening.

"Thor?" Steve asked, the rest of the group behind him as he rounded the corner. "What-" He paused, noticing the person in front of them.

The person now chose to acknowledge their numbers, the (in the) hood of their cloak moving a bit, showing that they must be looking around them for an escape route. Obviously, considering the fact that he was cornered, there was no other way to go; despite this, he still held his weapons at the ready. Seeing this as inspiration, Thor charged at the person, his hand out to catch his hammer. When he went to go strike the person, though, they were no longer there. He slammed into the wall, turning around in time to get a kick to the face.

Alright, he thought as he turned around all the way, his nose spurting blood. Martial arts; I can work with that.

He spun around quickly, again missing the prefered target. The person jumped back, then stabbed forward with the well-crafted sword in their right hand. Thor managed to dodge, yes, but the person flicked it skillfully, grazing his ribs. The god glare menacingly at them, his eyes darkening with pure rage. Before he could humiliate himself further, however, another arrow found its mark.

The mark of the arrow happened to be in that person's shoulder

The person stumbled, bringing their left hand to their bloody shoulder; the sword in their hand now hung loosely at his side. Besides this, the person ignored the wound, switched hands, and ran in the direction of the rest of the group. Tony's blaster (can't remember what it's called, just gonna go with that) hummed in high pitched tone, glowing brighter in little time. The person merely jumped over him, front-flipping before landing gracefully on their feet; he didn't even waste a moment before he started running again. The soldier had to aim his hand at the roof to avoid hitting the rest of the team. Clint let loose another arrow, but the person dodged and kept on running, quickly evading Steve's attempt to subdue him.

Natasha, however, had a better plan. She quickly performed a quick draw with on of her pistols, shooting at the person while running after them. Contrary to logic, the person moved faster than her, slipping past each of her attempts to shoot him. With all of the team chasing him, he had little to no place to go; in fact, the only exits were either the front or the glass ceiling, as far as Thor knew. The person turned so sharply that Thor almost tripped and fell, but managed to turn in a less extreme way. Before he knew it, they had burst into the area where all of the bodies were.

"Stop!" Steve demanded, slowing down a bit.

They kept on running, their pace not changing.

The soldier flung his shield in the direction of the person, the red-white-and-blue surface barely missing their head. They skidded to a halt, dodging the shield a second time as it returned to Cap.

"Stop," he asked again in calmer tone.

He may have stopped, but his weapons still gleamed threateningly in the moonlight.

"Drop your weapons."

He did not drop his weapons.

"Drop you weapons," Steve repeated, emphasizing the words for a little more effect.

He heard a sigh of annoyance from their direction, and based off of the situation, Thor guessed that he had gotten the closest thing to the person talking outright.

"Have it your way." He quickly moved his shield to the side, revealing a tranquiliser gun; as expected, he fired without hesitation. The intended target batted the projectile out of the air with no signs of struggle, and turned back to him. Thor glared at him; was this man vulnerable to anything?!

Wait . . . those assassins . . . they were looking for a relic . . .

Before he could completely get his shit together, Tony snapped. "Why did you kill them?!" he asked, gesturing towards the mauled corpses. "Who are they after?! Why won't you answer us? Better yet, who are you?!"

The hood twitched a bit, showing that the person was probably regarding the bodies; he could almost feel him frown. "You're him, aren't you?" Thor asked, the explanation dawning on him; he felt like holes were being drilled into his head. "You're who they were looking for; their enemy."

The person took a step back, obviously confused.

"If that is so, then you need to come with us," Thor explained. "We can help you fight them, if you want."

Another twitch of the hood; he was looking around, again. "I wouldn't recommend running away. You'll get your ass kicked," Tony stated.

He twirled his sword in his hand in defiance, giving off the message of: Does it look like I give a f***?

Steve sighed in annoyance. "Have it your way; AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE!" he shouted. Thor let loose a war cry, tossing hammer at his target. As expected, he dodged easily ran towards him, his sword ready to slice him to ribbons. However, instead of attacking Thor, he merely jumped over him and pommeled him right in the middle of his back. Stepping to the side to temporarily let his teammates through to their opponent, he watched as Tony was judo flipped into Steve, and Nat nimbly dodged away from an attack, trying to find an opening. As this happened, Clint fired arrows everytime that there wasn't a person in the way; none of them were successful in their purpose. Thor summoned his hammer, a plan working in his mind; if he could get him in a difficult place . . .

If one of my comrades were to hold him in place . . . no, he could just pull them in front of him. Maybe if he dodged at just the right time, it would leave him open for a few seconds . . .

He watched the battle carefully, waiting for the right moment to issue his attack. Tony crawled off of Steve, who helped him up and stared at the battle intently. Clint fired another arrow, which was swatted aside. Finally, Natasha lashed out with one of her knives, aiming for the person's neck, only to be stopped with a swift disarming technique. She made a jab at their face, and they bobbed and weaved (basically ducked in another direction while standing in the same place) quickly, slapping her on the upper arm with the flat of their blade.

Wait for it . . .

Nat, obviously finding this to be an annoyance, drew another dagger, looking just about ready to murder him viciously. She slashed violently, taking a step forward in order to give him less room to dodge. Thor, anticipating his next move, tossed his hammer with a limited amount of force; enough to leave quite the injury, but not enough to kill him. As if a blessing, the hammer slammed into the person quickly, sending them into a stack of wooden crates. They cracked and splintered on impact, the person temporarily going limp in the pile of destruction.

Did I . . . ?

He removed the hammer from his chest, dropping it in an agitated manner beside them. He stood up, cradling a gash on his lower arm; in fact, it was the same arm that was still being used as the home of an arrow. Blood seeped through his light blue tunic in the area around his ribs, causing Thor to suspect that he had cracked or broken a few. Despite his considerably fatal injuries, he stood up straight, sword in hand, and raised it in a defensive stance.

"Please don't make me do this," Steve begged in a stern tone.

Again, he heard a sigh, but this one was different; it seemed to be filled with disappointment and remorse, more than anything. He raised his weapon, as if waiting to meet another attack. I'm still standing; as long as that lasts, I will fight back his form seemed to say. Thor couldn't help but admire is determination; however, that did not mean that he didn't find it to be foolish. This person was bleeding in great amounts, obviously in a lot of pain, and smart when it came to combat. Seeing as this, he could tell that this combination would make him stubborn and desperate to escape from the fight.

He was trying to run away, and we cornered him here. We are the ones forcing this fight. We should have never tried to-

"Surrender."

Thor tilted his head to one side, listening to what Fury was instructing him to do (you thought that was Link talking, didn't you?). "Surrender?" he heard Tony mutter incredulously under his breath.

"Yes; we now know what this person looks like-more or less-and what their fighting style is. They obviously know where to find our enemies, too," he reasoned in a slightly interested voice.

"But, with all due respect, why can't we just take 'em to base?" Steve asked.

Thor was vaguely aware of the sound of shattering glass. "Well, number one, Rogers: If we want to establish an alliance with a person who has the same enemies as us, do you think that it would be a good idea to 'kidnap' them?"

"No, sir."

"Exactly, and number two: He's already running away."

His head snapped in the direction of the place where their "enemy" had been standing a few seconds ago, finding it empty. One of the windows above was shattered and damaged, some of the surface scratched, even. "What if he brings public attention?" Thor blurted out.

"If we didn't know about him until now," he explained, "then I'm sure that he will be able to stay out of the public eye."

Link's POV

"Ow."

Zelda continued to stitch up the deep cut on his arm, not looking up to inspect his pained expression. "If you would stop getting yourself into fights, things like this wouldn't happen," she deadpanned, finishing another stitch.

"To be fair, I didn't start the fight, Your Highness. In fact, I tried to get away."

Her brow furrowed, showing that she was trying not to throw some choice words at him. "Alright, alright. But, what does Farore have to say about it?" she asked, glancing up at him with a smug look in her green eyes.

He bit his lip, not wanting to share that information. "Her Grace Farore mentioned that they were part of a group called the Avengers-earth's version of the Champions. Farore-Her Grace Farore told me that they were very well known and loved among humans."

"Continue."

"Her Grace also mentioned that they were searching for information on the Yiga Clan," he stole a glance at his injury, choosing his words carefully, "and me."

Princess Zelda blink in surprise, looking up at him to make sure that he wasn't bluffing. "How . . . how do they know about you?"

Link drummed his fingers on the chair uncomfortably. "I'm . . . still trying to figure that out. One of them-a tall, well built human in armor-tried to ask me if I was 'the one they were looking for'. So, I'm guessing that they heard something from the Yiga, or something along those lines. Other than that, I'm sure that they aren't fully aware of who I or the Yiga truly are."

She considered this gazing absently at a random portrait on the wall of her study; a portrait of the king. Her green eyes traced the details of the shading before returning back to Link's arm. "Why do they have any interest in you? After all, they had not a clue of your importance until earlier."

He looked in another direction as she finished another stitch. "I feel that they understand my resentment towards the Yiga."

"How so?"

"Her Grace Farore informed me that they have lost ten civilians to the Yiga. Although they are not fully aware of what they are trying to go up against, they are probably trying to jump into the frey out of blind devotion to their people. I was able to observe that they were rational in most of their actions, even going as far as to ask why I disposed of the cursed assassins."

"And did you answer them?" Zelda asked, picking up the scissors on her desk to cut the dissolvable-thread.

Link stared at her blankly. ". . . No."

She calmly cut the thread, place the bloody needle on the medical tray, and picked up the roll of gauze. After a few seconds of the only sound being of the bandages stretching out and snaking around his partially-healed arm, she stood up and stood at his left side. He looked up at her in confusion, his cerulean blue eyes staring at her blank Persian green ones (yes; Persian green is a color) in an innocent and puzzled way. Instead of the wise words he expected, she elbowed him harshly. "Are you insane?"

"That's debatable-"

Zelda glared at him in an amused way. "Link . . ."

"Her Grace Farore told me not to interfere, and you're already acquainted with the fact that I don't favor socializing with my opponents, Your Highness."

She flashed a concerned look in his direction. "I understand that, but, Link? Would you please try to avoid getting yourself injured next time? As brave as you are, that does not make your immortal (BotW quotes, benches)."

"Yes, Princess Zelda."

"And try to make peace with these 'Champions of Earth'?"

"Yes, Princess Zelda."

"And please stop calling me 'Your Highness' and 'Princess'? Such a subject is not something of great importance, but it makes me feel above people in a vain and unsophisticated way," she asked, folding her hand neatly in front of her.

"Yes, Princess Zelda."

Zelda rolled her eyes playfully, picking up a book on her desk. She flipped through it, squinting at a few of the sloppy handwriting that she created when she was rushing to get work done. She turned a few more pages, then stopped on one, walking over to Link-who was now standing on the other side of the small room-with the leather-bound book.

"What do you think about these interviews?" the princess asked, showing him the pages.

Much like her reaction to the chicken-scratch Hylian letters, he squinted at the page, tipping his head to one side in confusion. In the end though, he was able to get the message well enough.

"More malice?" he guessed.

She nodded solemnly, her long golden hair twitching from the movement. "It would seem such. To add to that . . ." she flipped the page to show a list of monsters, "A few of Ganon's fiends are coming back. Do you recall when the last blood moon was?"

Link thought back to the last one; he usually remembered certain occurrences by events or what he was thinking during that time. What had happened during the most recent blood moon? He vaguely remembered being in Kakariko Village . . . "Three weeks ago, Princess," he said, his mind returning to reality.

Princess Zelda nodded, scribbling down a few notes in more formal letters. "People have reported a worrisome amount of monsters and malice (that sounds like a good book title) inhabiting specific parts of Hyrule. Although they seem to be in small numbers-so far-they could pose as a threat in later cases. No one has been injured or maimed in any way, but we still must be cautious. I'm expecting that the Yiga Clan are trying new methods to ally themselves with reinforcements; you know what that means, correct?"

"They're gaining numbers for preparation for war or battle."

"Yes, that seems to be the case. What action do we suggest that we take?"

Link was slightly flabbergasted ('been waiting for a while to use that word) by the request to voice his own opinion, but obliged, nonetheless. "I feel that we are already doing all that we can by trying to foil their plans. However-if it would serve as some sort of aid-we could position a few soldiers near the borders of each Hyrulean village and stable that is in need of protection, if the threat grows. We could also consult and compromise with each race's leaders to set up borderline protection and stay on high alert for Yiga spies (I have been taught by HW, thank you)."

While he said this, she wrote it down in her book. It wasn't that Link was the smartest out of the both of them-quite the opposite, actually-but he was more educated in war strategy and the Yiga than Zelda, making him the most promising candidate to turn to when in need of advice. Snapping the book closed, the princess stared at him for a few seconds, as if waiting for him to burst into flames. "Anything more?"

He smiled smugly, a mischievous thought making his eyes beam with humor. "Tell Riju that our efforts are sure to seal the deal (you had to see that coming at some point)."

Banner's POV

Bruce poked a piece of equipment with the gel-pen he was using to record his observations. To his dismay, the machine sputtered and sparked, coughing miserably. He sighed with just as much of a lack of satisfaction and more so disappointment. Trying again to get an exceptional reaction, he click one of many buttons on its surface, resulting in similar results to his first attempt at making the machine work. Fury had told him to work with the wretched piece of technology to see if it could be remodeled into the prototype of an important gadget, but his efforts were proving fruitless, so far.

The slam of a door from behind him saved him from having to deal with any further disheartening results. Half-turning to hear Tony grumbling something to himself (which would be bleeped out by any TV show), he assumed that they had returned with information and a solution to the current crisis.

"So, how did the mission . . . go." Banner hesitated, looking Tony and Cap up and down. Tony's suit was scratched and dented in a few spaces (which was honestly really common), and he looked agitated and ready to explode on anyone who dared to speak to him. Steve, on the other hand, had only a few cuts and bruises in places and an absent minded expression, obviously trying to analyze something in his head. "What happened? You look like you got your asses handed to you."

"We did," Thor confirmed, ducking under the short doorframe to come in. Much like his teammates, he looked disoriented and suffering from minor injuries. The only difference was that he had a tampon shoved up his nose (he wasn't even gonna ask about that [tampons help with nosebleeds, waifus]) and he looked harshly dispirited.

"What exactly happened, then?" Bruce asked, placing his work to the side in order to listen.

Cap cleared his throat. "You see, we took out the sentries outside of where Fury told us to go. When we explored the inside of the warehouse, though, we found that multiple assassins and Hydra Agents had been ripped to pieces-"

"What he means is that there was a lot of blood and gore," Tony interjected, scowling dejectedly at the floor.

"Yes, thank you, Tony. Anyway, we were then attacked by a man dressed in medieval styled clothes. He was really good at fighting, and-as you can see-even landed a hit on us."

"'Medieval styled clothes'?" Banner asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, he was wearing a blue tunic, khakis, boots, and a plack cape with a hood. Not only that, but he attacked with a sword and shield. At one point, Thor was able to knock him into a pile of crates-which was amazing, by the way," the god flashed a confident smile, "and he was injured. Before we could actually do anything else, though, Fury told us to surrender."

Banner was shocked by this; Nicholas Joseph Fury not trying to use a person as a human-pincushion for tranquiliser darts?

Interesting . . .

"Do you suspect that this person was who the assassins were searching for?"

"Without a doubt," Tony said, rubbing one of his eyes in a tired way. "The style of their clothes and their fighting style confirmed that enough for me."

Banner nodded, considering these traits. "Are Clint and Nat alright?"

"Indeed, they are," Thor reassured him, yanking the tampon out of his nose and then proceeding to throw it in the nearest trash can. "Clint is untouched; he was able to get one shot on the person during the ordeal. And Lady Natasha is of good health, too; they are currently giving a mission report to Fury. As for us . . . well, you already know that."

He almost breathed a sigh of relief; he didn't know why he was so fearful for their safety. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they had no idea of what they were doing, despite the fact that they were armed with four-or five-strong superheroes who were willing to defend the populace from harm. "Then . . . what are we supposed to do now?"

End of 1st Chapter

I wanted to make this chapter longer, but it's 1:00 am, and I'm tired, so you get a cliffie (sorry not sorry). To be fair, I now have to live with juggling THREE crossovers at once (yay . . .). I'm emotionally drained from the prison we call "school," so sorry if I appeared to be half-asleep while I wrote certain parts of this (gomen-nasai *bows*). To those of you who may be wondering (which I'm sure none of you are), I know a limited amount of martial arts because of me taking Taekwondo when I was six 'til I was nine (recommend it). Anyway, good night. Sayonara.