Chapter Seven: Guess Things Happen That Way
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Peter Parker
"Dr. Banner!" I hiss in as loud a whisper as I dare.
Shit. Shit, where the hell is he? Oh man, my first (and hopefully last) off-world situation with the Avengers, and I lose the Hulk. Who loses the Hulk?!
I slide the small toggle on my right lense that switches it to night vision. Everything becomes illuminated in grainy greens, but at least I can see a heck of a lot better.
I drop from the tree, landing in a crouch on the jungle floor. My senses are all on high alert, straining for any sign of the missing scientist or a possible threat.
Outside, I'm the epitome of epic superhero, ready to hunt down his missing partner.
Inside, I am freaking the hell out.
My eyes peer around me in all directions, and then I catch sight of the broken branches littering the ground, indentations all around it in the damp earth, all the foliage disrupted and smushed like something had been dragged across it.
Dr. Banner.
I make to follow the path when I hear a slight rustling so faint, I almost miss it.
Freezing in place, my eyes lock onto the thick foliage in front of me.
But that's not foliage. That's an armored back, a series of menacing spikes protruding down a curving spine. My eyes follow it down to its long arms, and gripped in its hands...an unconscious Dr. Banner, curled up and trapped inside a thinly woven net.
Ohhhhh crap. Here goes nothing.
"Hey, ugly!" I call, shifting into a defensive position as the alien turns, looking over its shoulder at me. "That's mine."
I aim a web at the net in its hands, my fingers barely a centimeter from the trigger in my palm, but the alien is just staring at me, waiting.
I probably should have expected the attack that came from my right.
Natasha Romanov
In the time it took us to gather reinforcements and figure out what the hell was going on, the aliens had gotten a massive head start. Extra worrying, since it seemed their home planet, or at least the planet they are taking their captives to, is located in the far reaches of the universe.
Completely geared up in the high tech combat leathers T'Challa had provided for me, I stride to the front of the craft where Okoye is manning the controls. The others are all meandering the hull, either gearing up themselves, discussing plans, or getting familiar with their new weapons.
"It suits you," Okoye comments without looking at me.
I lean against the controls to her right, careful not to nudge any of the delicate looking equipment or levers behind me.
I glance down at the assortment of army green and black leathers armoring my body, straps and buckles securing the suit, weapons hidden within the built in slots. The armor is thicker than the uniforms I am used to, but I find it supple enough to move freely in.
"Thanks."
I take a moment to examine all the tells in her face, in her body language. Her grip on the control wheel is tight, but not white-knuckled tight, and she holds herself straight, more stiff than is comfortable. Okoye's gaze is even on the view in front of her, and some might even call it expressionless, but I know better. The corners of her mouth are pressed down ever so slightly, and the rigidity of her jaw tells of clenched teeth.
"Are you done examining me?"
"Sorry. Course of habit."
"Is there something you wished to ask or did you come up here for the view?" Okoye asks, arching an eyebrow.
I glance back at the multitude of lights streaming past us in a multicolored rush of electricity, something I'd only ever glimpsed in sci-fi movies, though they couldn't possibly do it justice. Traveling at this velocity and speed is the only way we will reach the alien planet in a reasonable amount of time.
Reasonable, considering that if we flew in real time, our children's great grandchildren would be old by the time we got there.
"What's your stake in this?" I ask her.
The woman gives me a derisive look. "I am here to protect my king and avenge my people."
There. The crease between her brows deepened when she said "avenge".
"It's more than that for you," I murmur, frowning.
Okoye's eyes are sharp on me. "It is. Not that it is any of your business."
"I don't mean to pry. Just trying to understand."
The warrior heaves a silent breath. "My mother's elder sister was a member of the Dora Milaje. She was one of the ones taken fifty years ago."
My lips press together in a grim line. "I'm sorry."
"I never met her," Okoye continues in her rich accent, her eyes lost in memory. "But my mother told me so many stories of the fierce warrior my aunt was, how she led the Dora Milaje without fear, how she was the first to strike back when those foreign monsters attacked. She is one of the reasons I worked my entire life to become a part of the order."
"She sounds like an incredible woman."
"She was," Okoye gives me an even look. "I have a chance to enact justice for her life, the lives of all the warriors we lost that day, and I will take it."
I nod in understanding. Revenge is a concept I am intimately familiar with, and the ferocity I see burning in her eyes will serve her well on the battlefield.
"Can you tell me anything more about the aliens that attacked?" I ask after a moment.
Okoye eyes me. "You were the one who fought them face to face. All I have are accounts from history. What can you tell me?"
I give her a small, approving smile before I focus on everything I learned and observed. "I assume you saw footage of the attack."
She nods.
"Then you saw how well trained they are. It was as if they'd been born to fight, and yet they were holding back on us until the end, until they took the others."
"I've been wondering why they did not just kill you if you were not the ones they were after."
"I don't think we were deemed important enough to kill," I reply with a frown, remembering how the one I'd fought had acted as though I was a fly that landed on its shoulder. Not even worth squashing. "Were any of the Dora Milaje enhanced?"
Okoye's brows furrow. "Not to my knowledge, no. Why?"
"They were only interested in the big players, those with abilities. Why take the Wakandans fifty years ago if they didn't have superhuman abilities?"
I'd thought about this a great deal. Thought of all the reasons the aliens would have to take that select few; experimentation, extraction of enhanced abilities, scientific study and dissection, slavery, mind control, some kind of sadistic, underground alien fighting ring.
I'd also chosen to tell none of these to Stark.
"I believe Wakanda's advanced technology and vibranium weaponry is what drew those creatures to us," Okoye says finally. "That was during a time before the Avengers, before inhumans and enhanced individuals became public. Our defenses should have ensured Wakanda was invisible not only to the rest of Earth, but to other worlds as well. But they failed."
It makes sense. In a world not brimming with super powered individuals, at least not public ones, the aliens would have set their sights on the one spot on Earth they might find something different, something...more. Wakanda's warriors are formidable, as is their technology. Perhaps the only reason they were not targeted a second time had been the creation of the Avengers.
I've been prioritizing, delegating in my head, putting away the inessential worries and gut wrenching fear to focus only on my actions, my planning, preparing for this fight.
But that doesn't mean the thoughts don't slip through.
Vision and Wanda, just coming back from their hiatus traveling the world.
The kid, who'd been through more ordeals than anyone should have to face at his age.
Bucky, whose silent, brooding presence had become somewhat of a constant, our relationship growing closer and steadier within the past couple months, even going so far as to train together or mock Steve when he's being...well, Steve.
The last image I have of Steve Rogers is two of those aliens bearing down on him, the Captain fighting them off valiantly until a violent blow from a spear had sent him crashing lifelessly onto the ground.
And Bruce...
After over two years of searching, wondering, Bruce Banner had fallen from the sky like a goddamn star out of heaven, and a week later, he'd been snatched right back as if he had never returned. A week, where he'd spent most of his time debriefing and trying to jog his memory. A week, where we'd had exactly three conversations.
I open my eyes to find Okoye staring at me intently.
"Are you done examining me?" I ask with a smirk.
Okoye gives me a knowing look. "It seems I am not the only one with a high stake in this mission."
Wanda Maximoff
Pain.
My head is throbbing with it, shards of glass slowly sinking deeper into my brain. The damp heat of the jungle makes me feel feverish, covered in sweat.
Vision keeps me steady, one of my arms thrown over his shoulder, his right arm encircling my waist. I insist that I remain walking. I am not gone enough to warrant him carrying me like a damsel through the jungle. But I know without his help, I would be a crumpled heap beneath one of the large trees in this godforsaken jungle.
"Just a little farther," he urges quietly.
I don't answer him. I can't. Not when I am using every available bit of energy to keep myself from passing out.
Reading the alien…
No. Don't think about it. Not yet.
Focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Do not become a burden. Do not become the weak link that gets them killed.
The jungle becomes a blur of red streaked shadow, wavering at the edges, beckoning me to oblivion. It's Steve Roger's voice that jerks me back. Even though he speaks softly, the sound is like needles to my ear drums.
I should not have read that alien.
"No signs of pursuit," he murmurs. "I scouted ahead. There's a cave not too far from here that juts out from the stream. We can rest there."
Rest. My knees nearly buckle at the word.
Reality comes and goes in feverish waves, with every throb of my headache. One minute I am stumbling through the jungle in Vision's arms, the next, I am locked within the alien's mind, image after image flooding through me in a horrific replay that makes no sense at all.
I think it's raining.
No.
No, those are tears streaming down my cheeks.
Pull yourself together, Wanda, I hear Pietro's voice murmur from my right, a smile in his voice. You are an Avenger now. Don't be such a girl about it.
"I'm not being a girl about it," I mutter back, stumbling over a large root. I don't fall, not with Vision's arm secured around me, but I feel the weight of his concerned stare, of Steve's.
I'm being settled down against something hard and damp, darkness all around me. I sigh as I lean heavily back, savoring the lack of red light, of the coolness inside the cave, the smell of rock and water and salt…
Something damp and cold is pressing against my forehead, and I let out a relieved sigh.
"Is that better?" murmurs Vision.
"Yes," I breathe.
His touch grounds me, brings me back to my trembling body huddled in the mouth of a narrow cave, scarcely big enough to house all three of us within it.
"Are they coming?" I ask, feeling Vision's body beside me and leaning into him.
"No one followed us," Steve replies firmly. "We should be safe for the night."
With every passing second, I begin to feel more and more coherent. The headache lingers, sharp and throbbing in my skull, but the feverish feeling begins to dissipate as focusing on the present moment becomes easier and easier.
"Are you alright?' Steve asks, worry thick in his voice, in the lines of his face.
"I think so," I wince at a particularly sharp stab of pain at the center of my forehead.
"Reading doesn't usually take this much out of you," frowns Steve, his blue eyes barely visible in the darkness.
"I don't usually read homicidal aliens," I murmur dryly.
"What did you see?" asks Vision, who keeps his voice soft for my sake. "What did you feel?"
My chest constricts, squeezing my lungs. "Death," I whisper, closing my eyes against the onslaught of images.
So much death.
Reading it had been like delving into a raging river, currents tossing me this way and that, wrenching me deeper into its mind even when I wanted to pull back. Images had thrust themselves at me, overlapping and vibrant in their horror. And I could feel the very essence of the alien...the need for victory, the overwhelming bloodlust, murder and mayhem and apoplectic rage…
I feel tainted by it, even now. Like traces of it linger on my skin, in every throbbing stab in my head. It makes me shudder, makes me want to scrub my body raw.
Not just the images, the emotions, but the moments where I swear it was my hands gripping the spear, driving it into my prey's gut, savoring the spill of their blood, the pained horror in their faces as I watch them die, another trophy for me to claim, to lord over my brothers who had failed to kill such a creature-
Stop. Not me. Not mine.
The heels of my hands are pressing into my eyes, my breathing ragged. The others are waiting for answers, and I can feel their concern like a weight upon my back.
"They've been doing this for centuries," I begin, my voice strangled as nausea surges in my stomach. "Going planet to planet. Striking so that the fiercest warriors are drawn out. Then they take them, bring them here, and hunt them."
"Hunt?" Steve's voice is sharp.
I nod, cringing at the pain. "So many," I whisper. "They've slaughtered so many."
"What is the purpose?" Vision asks evenly. "Why hunt the warriors they take? Why not just kill them?"
"They don't care about conquest or the domination of worlds. Not yet. They seek to become the greatest and fiercest warriors in the universe. With every hunt, they learn, they adapt, they improve their technology or their strategy. They're building an army of perfect, unbeatable soldiers until they become unstoppable."
"My god," Steve breathes.
"We're just the newest season," I scrub the tears from my face, willing my headache to pass. This is no time to fall apart. "They will hunt us down, slaughter us, and move on to the next planet. And that isn't even the worst of it."
They watch me, waiting, but the words are drowning under the weight of the alien's memories warping themselves through my mind.
"I've...never read something so malicious," I admit finally. "Even Ultron, who wanted our annihilation, who was ready to exterminate the human race so that they could evolve. This alien, its race, there's no calculation, no focus on the endgame. They take pleasure in the hunt, they revel in it. And most of their kills are not quick, not merciful. They-"
I can't say anymore. Not with the sickening enjoyment lacing the rage and revulsion writhing in my chest, echoes of the creature's mind. I know I will never forget the things I saw, that I will likely see them every night in my sleep for as long as I live.
For a moment we stay silent as we try to absorb the horror of our situation.
"We're not going to give them the chance," Steve says evenly, and I open my eyes to watch him in the darkness. "We have to find the others."
"If they are not already dead."
Blue eyes bore into me. "I have to believe they're not. We're going to find them, and then we are going to put an end to this once and for all."
Vision and I exchange looks. "What do you mean?" I ask. "Shouldn't we be focusing on escape?"
Steve rises, moving to the mouth of the cave, bracing himself with one arm against the stone as he looks out into the jungle. "They're just going to keep coming. We can't let them do this to any more worlds, to any more people. We have to stop them."
"We fought them once and failed," Vision reminds him. "Half of us were captured and the other half left on Earth."
"We killed two of them in the jungle."
"Two," I shake my head. "Steve, there are over a hundred of them on this planet alone, hunting in pairs or small groups."
"The odds of escape are painfully slim," adds Vision. "But staying to ensure their destruction? It's impossible."
"The Avengers have done the impossible before," Steve replies firmly, turning to face us. "We owe it to our world to try. You said it yourself, we're likely not getting off of this planet alive. Maybe we will. Maybe we won't. But I say we take as many of those monsters down as we can."
I don't want to die here.
I don't want to die alone or forgotten, my body some kind of trophy for an alien hunter.
Fear cinches my insides, making my fingers curl. I want to go home. I want to live, I want to-
Doesn't matter what you did, or what you were. If you go out there, you fight, and you fight to kill. If you step out that door, you are an Avenger.
I take a deep, steadying breath.
I am an Avenger.
They may have locked me up like a criminal, like an animal, but I am neither of those things. I am not prey to be hunted. I am a predator. And I will not let them do this to anyone else.
I push myself to my feet, Vision rising at my side, and then I look Steve straight in his eyes and ask, "What is the plan?"
Peter Parker
May's trying to drag me out of bed.
Not cool.
I frown, eyes still closed and heavy with sleep, and mumble my protest as she yanks the bedsheets out from under me, except I'm sliding with them. And she's still pulling.
What the hell?
I drag open my eyes, the lenses of my mask going in and out of focus for a moment before it all comes flooding back to me.
Oh man.
I'm curled up on my side in a near fetal position, stashed in a super tightly meshed gray net, the holes so small I can barely slip my fingers through. I tilt my head back to see one of the alien hunters striding easily through the jungle, the top of my net grasped firmly in its right hand.
Another glance shows its compadre walking alongside it, dragging a second netted prisoner behind it.
Dr. Banner!
Oh god, we've been captured. I'd let them get the jump on me like the raptors got that australian dude from Jurassic Park. Only their attack had been so fast, there hadn't even been a chance to say "clever girl". How could I have been so stupid?!
"Ow!" I cry as they drag me over a patch of thorn covered ferns with pale, tropical flowers bursting from their spiky stalks.
Sunlight filters through the jungle canopy above, and my stomach sinks. It's already daytime, which means we've been knocked out for who knows how long.
Why did they capture us? If my theory about being hunted is right, why didn't they just shoot us or stab us when they had the chance? Why stuff us into nets and drag us through the jungle? It makes no sense.
Unless…
An almost painful shudder runs through me as bits and pieces of the movie Predators replay in my mind, the only experience I could base this situation on. Hadn't there been a part in the movie where the predators had laid a trap using one of the men? But...the group of soldiers and mercenaries hadn't fallen for it because one of them had admitted to laying a similar trap before.
Make a man suffer, make him call out for help, and when the others come, slaughter them all.
My blood runs cold. I may have the quote wrong in my head, but I understand the general idea. And now I am almost positive that they plan on using Dr. Banner and myself as bait for the others.
It would make sense.
Maybe they considered us the weakest of the group. I'd be indignant about that, except for how ridiculously easy it was for them to take us down.
Ughhhh if I get out of this, I'm never letting myself live that one down. Although Dr. Banner had been unconscious when I'd gotten myself captured so easily, so maybe I can still salvage my reputation by coming up with an awesomely epic story of how I'd tried to fend like twenty of them off at once.
Priorities, Parker, I have to remind myself again. You have to actually live through this if you want to lie to save your dignity.
I begin squirming within the net, using my strength to try and pry at the mesh surrounding me, trying to tear it apart. The wire like threads dig into my fingers painfully, but they don't split or fray.
Come on, come on!
I'm sweating profusely, but this time I think it is more from terror than the heat.
I don't want to be tortured. I don't want to be bait.
I have to get out.
I'm thrashing more earnestly now, my muscles trembling with the effort of trying to tear through the net, even as the alien keeps dragging me through the dense foliage.
"Dr. Banner!" I hiss, but he is silent where he lays curled up in his net. "Dr. Banner, we could really use the Hulk about now!"
Pain explodes in my side, and I flinch and cry out as the blunt end of the alien's spear jabs hard into my ribs.
Eyes watering beneath my mask, I clutch at my undoubtedly heavily bruised side and peer up. The alien still has one hand clutching a handful of the net, its other gripping its spear. Black and red eyes glare furiously down at me, and it raises the spear again, as if warning me what will happen if I don't stop struggling.
I come up with a very rash, very stupid idea.
"My aunt can hit harder than that," I tell it. I don't think they understand english, but I'm pretty sure it will understand if it is being insulted. "I thought you aliens were supposed to be intimidating. Even the friendly blue aliens from Avatar are scarier than you."
Taunting it goes against every single one of my instincts. These aliens are intimidating and scary as hell, and I can see that my quest to piss it off has succeeded.
Dark eyes narrow as it flips the spear in its hand with a deft twist so that the bladed end is aiming straight down towards me. I'm fairly certain it won't kill me, not yet, not when I could potentially be bait or used for some other kind of sport.
I swallow thickly.
At least, I'm pretty sure.
It thrusts the spear down. I guessed right, and it aims straight for my side where it had jabbed me before, seeking to hurt, not kill. I roll to my right, still confined in the folds of the net, and the sharp, jagged blade tears through the top layer of mesh, missing me by less than an inch.
Yes!
I roll back, grabbing the spear just above the blade and slam it upward so that the blunt end slams into the alien's masked chin. Its head jerks back, and then it is falling to the ground from the blow.
Heart hammering in my chest, I try and twist the spear within the net so that the blade slices through more of the tight mesh, but my arms get tangled in my panicked rush. Folds of netting constrict my arm, narrowing my depth of movement as I frantically try to-
The tip of something sharp taps against the center of my forehead.
I immediately go still, the spear still in my hands, both it and my limbs tangled within the the net. Slowly, I drag my eyes up, going nearly cross-eyed as I stare up at the spear pressed against my head, the second alien having dropped Dr. Banner's net to loom over me.
Well...it was worth a shot.
I let go of the spear, putting my hands up within the net in a 'I surrender' gesture. "Uhhh...call it even?"
The alien I'd hit is on its feet now, snarling beneath its mask, wrenching its spear away from the net above me, all of its muscles coiled with rage. It starts for me, spear raised, and the alien pinning me down swings its own spear up to bar its path.
The two seem to converse for a moment in a series of almost dinosaur-like sounds, intermittent with sharp clicks and hissing snarls. One is clearly in favor of slaughtering me on the spot, and the other seems to be keeping a level head, insisting on the probably already agreed upon plan.
I'm caught between terror and amusement. Clearly I possess the ability to royally piss people, or aliens, off, and it is kind of funny how badly this one wants to kill me. Or, it would be funny if I wasn't so worried the other alien would give up and let him.
I mean, even if I hadn't been trying to escape, that alien had that hit coming. My ribs freaking hurt.
The argument escalates, the furious one shoving its partner in the chest. It lets out a low growl in response, twirling its spear in its one hand, a blade emerging from its wrist on the other.
Oh, hey, maybe my plan is working, just in a different way than I thought! Maybe the aliens will end up killing each other, and then I can inchworm over to one of their spears and cut myself and Dr. Banner free! Or...the angrier, larger alien will kill its level headed partner and be free to do away with me.
Shit.
As they continue snarling at each other, their postures becoming more and more aggressive, a shadow moves somewhere above them. The movement is small, almost unnoticeable, but my eyes focus on it anyways.
There's something crouched in the tree above us, but the leaves and branches are too dense and tangled to see through. I only see glimpses. A large shadow. A glint of light.
The aliens move so close to each other, their foreheads nearly touch, their growls and hisses growing to deadly roars. Beneath the din of their clashing, my ears pick up a soft thump of sound.
That's when the aliens suddenly stumble away from each other, their snarling turning into hissing inhales as they clutch at their armored stomachs. My eyes widen as I see black, jagged knives embedded into each of their guts.
And crouched in between the aliens on one knee, his hands wrapped around both of those knives, is Bucky.
He lifts his head, his dark hair parting for me to glimpse the deadly wrath on his face, and then he is moving. Silently, he rips the knives free, black blood spurting all over the leaves beneath him, and in a swift move, the Winter Soldier is on his feet, turning to slam a boot into one of the alien's wounded gut.
It shrieks, a rattling sound that hurts my ears, and Bucky whirls, raising his metal arm as the other alien stabs down with its spear. He blocks the blow, kicking out at the creature's shin, and it buckles, going down on one knee.
Bucky swiftly and efficiently slashes its throat.
My stomach lurches with nausea, and I look sharply away from the blood pouring from the gash.
Flipping the dripping knives in his hands, Bucky turns, his eyes dark and furious as he advances on the other alien, who crouches in a defensive stance, ready for him.
I notice suddenly that my hand is actually through the small rip in the net. I wriggle my fingers, elated in my small amount of freedom, and then I am aiming my webshooter.
Just as the alien charges at Bucky, I fire, the web attaching to the alien's spear with a soft thwack. I yank back my arm, but I can only go so far. My arm gets stuck in the net, but the shot did its job, the alien's spear now on the jungle floor several feet away from the battle.
Bucky takes a running leap into the air, spinning so that his elbow connects with the alien's forehead in a violent blow that sends it stumbling back. Bucky keeps coming at it mercilessly, slamming his metal fist into the alien's stomach wound again before slashing out with his knife.
The alien lurches back, its own knives jutting out from its wrists, bringing them together in an X to block another stab of Bucky's blade.
I look for an opening to help, but they are moving too fast, their fight too deadly. I could accidentally web up Bucky in my attempt to give him an advantage against the alien. But Bucky doesn't need my help.
In a series of badass moves too quick for me to follow, his knife is suddenly sticking out of the alien's chest, and with another slam of his fist into the alien's masked face, it collapses to the ground.
Breathing heavily, he stands over it for a moment, his shoulders heaving with the force of his breaths. Then Bucky adjusts his grips on his two knives, and turns to stalk towards me. I nearly flinch at the intensity of his expression, the murderous look lingering in his eyes, the black spots of blood splattered on his jaw.
But then he is kneeling beside me, his gaze softening slightly, his lips curving up into a smirk. "Told you I'd find you, kid."
A/N: Told you I'd find you. :D
FINALLY! I know you all have been wondering where the heck Bucky was, and I've been anxious to bring him back in, but I had to do it in an epic way. ;)
As you guys know, I like to keep a few chapters ahead of what I post, and I had your beta, PippinStrange, look over the newest chapter yesterday, one I've been DYING to write for ages now, and her reaction was GOLDEN. If it is any indication to how you all will react, you guys are in for a freaking treat. lol. But we have a ways to go before we reach that point! So, onward!
PippinStrange, I couldn't do this without you. Your work is so inspiring, every time I read/reread it, which is often, I get inspired with new ideas and an urgent need to write. Your reactions and responses to my writing are the freaking best, and seriously, make me beyond happy. If you readers haven't read Down Came the Rain or Where They Go, you are seriously missing out.
Yes, I know, I am the Queen of Cliffhangers and teasers. I think maybe I should change my author name to that? Queen of Cliffhangers? XD What do you guys think? lol
And now, a few words to my bomb review squad ;)...
sparklydog7: :D I mean, you know he's with Bucky and Peter again! But you'll have to wait for more until the next chapter. ;)
Jeyfeather1234: Steve and Wanda and Vision together make me so happy! :D
Shoyzz: Totally could see Pandora from Avatar! Only the sinister, creepy version! And look! I gave Peter a break! lol. Your reviews are, as always, a delight, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
LoonyLovegood1981: Eeee thank you! The fangirl squealing feeling is the BEST, and I get so giddy to think that people feel that way about my stories! Thank you so much for your review, and look! Peter is now not only NOT alone, but with BRuce AND Bucky. Sometimes I can be nice. ;) Sometimes...lol! Lots of love to you as well!
Kairianna864: THanks so much! Hope it answered all your questions!
AppleSpongeCake: *Urgently counts teeth to make sure they are all still there*... XD
cargumentluv: :D
Web-HeadSuperFan: OMG Thank you! As to your Star Wars question, you're referring to the animated series? I've seen bits and pieces, a couple episodes here and there, but haven't seen most of it or watched it all the way through. Are there really a lot of references? THat's crazy! And completely unintentional! I love long reviews, so never apologize! The more thoughts I get to read, the better :) As far as scheduled release dates, I could do that! Maybe start posting every Monday if I am able? I'll see what I can do.
StarStepper: Of course not! I'm just...a sick author. XD
Seawell: LOL totally! Bucky was totally fine on his own. XD
GinaBoo: Thank you so much! I try to come up with new ideas and am always thinking up new scenarios for these characters to tide me over from Infinity War. lol. SO glad you are enjoying this so much! I love your reviews!
Guest: Thank you so much! I will do my best!
Writer-at-Heart0: Thanks!
bgib99: Ahhhhhh thank you! That's always the best compliment, when someone says its like an avengers movie. :D I wish!
gandalf537: (AKA Bomb Review Squad Member 1002083354839) LOL that cracked me up, and I wish there were that many! lol! Yes, I definitely accept that title as Queen of Cliffhangers. I am a cruel, cruel writer, and I love it. XD Holy crap your reviews are so fun to read. THank you so much!
COMING UP
Chapter Eight: Flesh and Blood
Bucky is reunited with Bruce and Peter, Clint and Tony have a heart to heart, and the other Avengers lay a trap of their own...
If you guys thought the cliffhangers in the past were bad, you have no idea what's coming...