The nondescript van pulled up to the curb and they exited, the vehicle rocking slightly under their weight.
Tapping a crowbar in his hand, the leader looked up at the building and then nodded once. His three companions nodded back and then they all moved towards the nearby alleyway.
They were here tonight to commit a murder. While they harbored no particular malice towards their target, they were professionals and had received very specific instructions.
There was work to do.
Mary Jane turned up just after breakfast with Gwen in tow, which made Tony nervous. On the scale of dangerous redheads, the teenager ranked up there somewhere near Natasha - not with her, nothing on earth (with the exception of maybe the Hulk) was more dangerous than Natasha - but she was high on the scale.
"We want Peter and Doreen to attend M3," Mary Jane announced. Behind her, Gwen became very interested in the ceiling.
"Ah," Tony began, "That is, this sort of thing is Pepper's department and -" Pepper shoved him into a chair. "And I am going to shoulder that responsibility because I love her and we are a team." Barton snickered. Tony ignored him. "So, let's have it."
"Peter told us that you didn't know where he and Doreen would go to school. M3 is the perfect solution. Peter is already a student there and Doreen is also used to the public school system. M3 is one of the highest ranked schools in the city and Doreen is skilled with cooking, satisfying the school requirements that you have aptitude for the arts or sciences. M3 alumni include several city officials, the state treasurer and the current Atlantic City City Manager."
"Ms Watson is correct, Sir," Jarvis told him. "In fact, city wide, M3 ranks only behind Metro Science and the Tomorrow Academy, your Alma Mater."
"Thus satisfying the educational and prestige requirements," Mary Jane said smugly, crossing her arms.
"What about security?" Pepper asked. "As soon as we put our names on the registration, everyone will know."
Mary Jane smiled. "Thought of that." Her hand flashed out and she snapped her fingers under Steve's nose. "What is Tony Stark's actual name?" she barked.
"Ah . . . Tony - no - Anthony! Anthony Stark."
"Who is he married to?"
"Pep - I mean, Virginia Potts!"
Tony pulled out his wallet and checked his driver's license. It did say that his name was Anthony. "I thought I changed my name."
"You never signed the forms," Pepper murmured.
Mary Jane pointed at Tony. "What building is at three fifty fifth street? And no asking Jarvis."
Tony thought about it. "I have no idea," he admitted after several minutes.
"Really?" Mary Jane asked. "It's right out there." She pointed out the window. Tony followed her finger and found himself looking at the Empire State Building.
"I don't get it," Steve said. "No offense, Miss, but I don't follow."
Mary Jane smiled. "Come back to school, the paparazzi is going to be looking for Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. What they won't be looking for is Peter Parker and Doreen Green, whose legal guardians are Anthony E. Stark and Virginia Potts. It goes like this; during Back to School, every student, new and returning, has to turn in their registration cards, where the names and addresses are verified in the computers. But with nearly 900 students and a bunch of other things to do, the office ladies don't do much more than look at the card to see that everything is filled out. They don't have time to read the cards and after the first hour, they're too busy to give them much more than a glance. Since it takes roughly three hours to process everyone, we just slip them in at the two hour mark."
"But won't someone notice if they say they're living in Stark Tower?" Bruce asked.
"Stark Tower, yes. Two hundred Park Avenue, no," Mary Jane replied. She pointed out the window. "This is New York. We don't think of addresses unless we absolutely have too. That's not Three Fifty Fifth street, that's the Empire State Building. Everyone knows where the Empire State Building is, and, there's nothing in the postal code that says the address has to include the building name." She shrugged. "So long as they don't get into trouble, no one is gonna pull up their records."
"Except they will get into trouble," Coulson spoke up. "It's a good plan, Miss, but you missed a part; Green is a mutant, and visibly so. Sooner or later, someone, teacher, student, or parent, is going to say or do something and then what?"
"Oh. Right." Mary Jane looked downcast.
Coulson smiled. "I said you missed something, I didn't say you should throw it out," Mary Jane's face brightened. "A solid plan always takes into account the people who can mess it up. So, you have to ask; who are the troublemakers?"
Next to Tony, Bruce leaned down. "Is it my imagination, or did Coulson just take on a student?"
"Imagination," Tony said, perhaps a little too quickly.
Pepper sipped from her coffee cup and looked over at Coulson. "You feeling okay, Phil?"
"Of course," Coulson replied.
"It's just that you have the same look on your face that my dad did the first summer we kids all went off to summer camp at the same time and he and Mom would be alone in the house. Then again, he also had that look whenever my brother Parker was out of sight for more than two minutes."
Coulson raised an eyebrow. "Special needs?"
"Holy terror."
"Ah."
"I do appreciate this, Phil, but I would have thought that you'd be off with the Avengers."
Coulson shrugged. "It's not my op, it's Sitwell's. They should get to know him." Pepper's raised eyebrows invited further explanation. "I got lucky, Potts," Coulson told her, gently touching his chest. "Next time, I might not be."
"Sitwell's your successor."
"Yeah." Coulson looked up at the descending numbers of the elevator. "A handler must be absolutely trusted by those he handles because sometimes, the orders given can't be explained, because there's no time to do it. In a perfect relationship, the agents follow orders because they know the handler wouldn't be giving them otherwise. Which means they have to know each other." He cocked his head. "Rogers is a professional, Romanov and Barton have worked with Sitwell before, and even if Morse wasn't sleeping with him, she could care less who's in charge as long as she gets to fly. Thor and Banner will follow Rogers' lead, which leaves Stark as a potential problem."
Pepper smiled. "'Potential Problem' is not a label I'd assign to Tony." The elevator doors dinged as they opened onto Stark Industries' offices in Stark Tower.
Coulson made a noise that might have been a chuckle and then he shifted his body language as they came in sight of the waiting room, falling into the role of corporate drone. However, he was studying the two people seated there. The man sat in a simple metal wheelchair, dressed in a plain blue suit. His hands were folded in his lap and his head was devoid of any hair, including eyebrows. Although Xavier's file stated that he'd been in the chair for close to twenty years, he was still lean and trim, with bright and alert eyes. His companion had skin the color of pure chocolate, with hair white as clouds and eyes the color of sapphires. She was clad in a simple suit over a lean, slim body.
She was the most beautiful woman Phil Coulson had ever seen.
"Professor Xavier, Pepper Potts," Potts said, holding out her hand. "This is Phil Anderson from Stark Legal."
Xavier's handshake was firm, skin slightly on the cool side. "Thank you for your time, Ms Potts," Xavier said. "This is Ororo Munro, the Institute's legal counsel."
"I am pleased to meet you," Munro said. Her voice had a transatlantic accent, a slight bass. Like Rogers, she had the sort of voice that people turned to listen to. Her grip was also firm, warm skin, and Coulson could feel the calluses and small scars that told of a fighter. Someone like Romanov. How interesting.
"Shall we?" Potts asked, gesturing to her office doors.
"Professor, let me just say once again that this is just a informational meeting," Potts said. "No decisions will be made today."
"Of course," Xavier replied. "As your husband is part of the Avengers, I assume that you've reviewed the reportedly extensive file Shield has on me." His eyes flicked sideways to Coulson.
"I've been briefed," Pepper replied, her face a perfect mask of friendliness.
"Then to answer your first question, I believe that the future of all mankind rests on the cooperation of humans and mutants working together and the Xavier Institute was founded out of that belief. Every student of the Institute is taught to use their gifts to benefit mankind and help push our species forward."
"Including combat training?" Coulson asked. It was probably a tactical error, but that side look at him had told Coulson that "Phil Anderson" was fooling no one.
"As a means of self-defense or to protect other people," Xavier replied blandly. "A mutant with say, the ability to command fire would be wrong to use it on someone who could not defend themselves against it, mutant or no. Understand, Ms. Potts, I do not condone violence or war. I have seen far too much of both. However, as much I hope for humans and mutants to come together in peace, i know it will not be that easy." He smiled. "As to your next question, I'm afraid that's a proprietary matter." Xavier's face turned grim and very serious. "If the key to how I find my students ever fell into the wrong hands, nothing could protect them and I will die before I allow that to happen." The smile returned with such ease that Coulson wondered which expression was genuine or if either of them were.
"Should I bother asking my third question?" Pepper asked lightly. "You seem to be reading my mind, Professor."
"That would be an invasion of privacy," Xavier replied. "But these sort of meetings tend to follow a certain order. To wit, the Institute offers its students the chance to be themselves, wholly themselves, without fear of being the different one. The outsider. But by the same token, the students must also live in the world and so we've partnered with Westchester High School, which not only provides them with social interaction outside the institute, but also educational opportunities. Furthermore . . ."
As Xavier talked, Coulson studied Munro. As yet, she'd hadn't spoken, but Coulson was fairly sure that she was one of those people who didn't speak unless she had something to say. Hill was the same way and then he blinked as he suddenly realized that whatever Xavier was actually up to, Munro was his second in command. For a moment, his handler instincts kicked in and he felt his hands twitch towards his phone to order a strike and cut off the head of Xavier's snake. But then Munro did something he'd only ever seen Romanov do.
She looked at him.
It was the same look he'd seen Romanov give hundreds of times. It was a look that very simply said, "Don't."
Coulson was not the sort of man who shrank back when threatened, but neither was he a fool, and no one could give that kind of look without being willing and able to back it up. It was simply not the sort of thing you could fake. For a moment, he weighed his options. Romanov, he knew, would be able to get to him before he would be able to send off the message, but he didn't know what Munro was capable of.
"Excuse me, Ms Potts," Jarvis interrupted, saving Coulson further deliberation. "But Mr. Stark has just informed me that the Avengers are five minutes away and that he is bringing an addition to the family."
Pepper was up and halfway to the door before she remembered that she had guests. Coulson was already past her and throwing open the door.
"It's quite all right, Ms Potts," Xavier said. "I was about to suggest a break anyway." Which they all knew was a total fabrication, but Pepper nodded her thanks for his understanding and ran out.
In the waiting room, she saw Chris setting some papers on the secretary's desk and grabbed his arm. "Chris!" She pointed at her office. "Show Xavier and Munro to the V.I.P. lounge and see to their needs." She ran off.
"Ooookaaaay . . ." Chris muttered and poked his head into the office to see a bald guy in a wheelchair and a (really hot) woman. "Uh . . . Ms Potts asked me to invite you to the V.I.P lounge and um . . . refreshments?"
Pepper arrived just as the Quinjet was rolling into the hanger. Her emotions were a whirl as she hovered between being ready to strangle Tony and trying to figure out what to say to the new boy or girl Tony had seen fit to promise the moon to without consulting her.
"What the hell?" Coulson murmured, staring at the Quinjet's fuselage. It was then that Pepper noticed the blast marks and the scorches on the wings and her need to strangle Tony turned into fear. Fear that grew as the jet reached the turntable, rotated around and she saw the hatch had been badly damaged.
With a groan, the hatch fell open and Steve emerged first, his arm around a man whose arm was in a sling and a very attractive woman at his side, talking to the man very softly, her hands on his good arm trying to comfort him.
"Get that over here," Steve snapped at the med team which was normally there for Bruce, "we have injured here! And send two more teams."
Down the ramp came Banner leaning on Barton while Sitwell, a bandage around his head and a split on his leg was carried by Thor. They were followed by Natasha and Tony who were escorting a man whose hands were bound behind his back, had a black eye, and his lip was swollen. Were it not for the fact that he'd been badly beaten, he'd have been handsome.
"Hey, Phil," Tony called out as they approached. "This is my new pal Markie. Say hello, Markie." The man snarled something in Portuguese and Tony's grin got bigger. "What's that? You want to be alone with the Black Widow?" The man visibly shrank in on himself, looking fearfully at Natasha. "Now say hello, Markie."
"Hello," the man said in a tired voice.
"Marcos Trinidad," Natasha supplied. "Arms runner and small-time crime lord. We apparently parked the Quinjet in his territory, so he tried to claim sovereignty over it. Sitwell and Morse objected. The civilians are Maria and her husband Tomas. Maria was Banner's neighbor back when he lived in the area and they provided shelter and local intelligence. Tomas was injured trying to help and Stark offered them employment here in the states."
"See, Markie?" Tony said, "I was right. What does crime pay?"
"Nothing," Trinidad sullenly replied, as though by rote.
"Barton and Stark spent the trip back amusing themselves with Trinidad," Natasha continued, sounding slightly annoyed. "We brought him back because some of the weapons he had were old Hydra designs with similarities to Phase Two."
"And we taught him a pirate song," Tony added, "wanna hear?"
"Later, maybe," Coulson replied tiredly. "What about the primary target?"
"Neutralized," Romanov said promptly. "The Neogenics lab was being funded by drug sales. Shield Brazil is handling cleanup, but when we went looking for the lab head, all we got was a name; Arim Zola. He'd apparently hired himself out to the Secret Empire and was using the drug to "recruit" test subjects for the Neogenics project. The drug was addictive enough that the victims would agree to do anything for a fix. Rogers is not happy."
"No, he wouldn't be."
Not to interrupt," Pepper broke in, "but Jarvis mentioned a new addition?" She looked down as she felt something cold and wet touch her leg. At her feet was a dog, the very definition of a mutt. His fur had visible matting and his eyes were warm and brown. He could clearly use a bath, but he seemed friendly.
"Pepper, this is Science. Science the science dog. He's the Avengers new Mascot." Tony grinned at her and again Pepper felt the urge to strangle Tony, this time for misleading her.
"Banner befriended the animal during his time in Brazil," Romanov explained. "When Maria married and moved across town, Science followed."
Pepper sighed. She supposed a dog was better than a third child, but she still intended to tear a strip off of Tony later that night. "You're responsible for getting him cleaned up and fixed, Tony."
"Fixed. You mean . . .?" Tony asked.
"Yes, Tony. That."
Sometimes, it seemed like Chris' entire life had been a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Such as being the first person Stark saw as they rode back up to the Penthouse,(Chris had been getting on to go down) then being handed the leash and a S.I. credit card and told to have the dog fixed and cleaned up. What kind of name was Science for a dog anyway?
Fortunately, Science had accepted the visit to the vet without complaint, and even the bath had gone well, though now, as they rode the elevator back up to the Penthouse, Science kept sniffing himself and then looking at Chris with a puzzled, slightly accusatory expression.
"Don't look at me, Pal," Chris warned, shifting his grip on the bundle he held in his other hand. "I didn't decide that 'Sherbert Delight' was a good choice for shampoo."
Science cocked his head, and Chris sighed. The girl who did the grooming for the vet had been a major hottie and Chris had been more interested in trying to score points so he'd agreed to all of her suggestions without question. So, technically he had decided. And he hadn't gotten her number either.
As though reading his mind, Science's mouth dropped open in a definite grin.
"Oh shut up," Chris grumbled as the elevator opened to reveal Stark and two teenagers, a boy and a girl. The boy was kind of puny looking, and the girl had a squirrel tail . . . Chris stared for a moment and then gave it a mental shrug. Phil's habit of going to fast food places in costume was just as strange and this was New York; He'd seen even stranger than the girl and Phil put together. A moment later, it occurred to him that these were the fabled Stark Children and he should probably forget that he ever saw them as soon as possible.
"Well hello!" The girl exclaimed, dropping to her knees and running her fingers through Science's fur. Science, sensing a soft touch, promptly licked her from chin to hairline, making her giggle.
"Don't touch the back of the neck," Chris warned. "There's flea stuff there. It's gotta sit for a few more hours."
"Adorable, isn't she?" Stark asked.
"Yes sir," Chris agreed. "She's very pretty."
"She's also fifteen."
"Which is totally not my type," Chris replied without hesitation.
Stark gave him a hard look before nodding. "I thought that dogs had the cone thing when they got . . . snipped."
"That's in two weeks, the vet didn't have time today for more then an exam." Chris reached into his jacket. "I have the papers for that as well as his registration and license and . . ." Chris took a look at Stark's face and then put the papers back in his jacket. "And I will give them to Ms. Potts."
"You know what, Igor? You're okay. Now, what's in the bag?"
"Stuff for Science." Stark grinned. "The dog," Chris clarified.
"Dogs need stuff?"
"Yes, Tony," snarked the boy from where he was filming the Squirrel Girl and Science with his phone. "Dogs need stuff."
"Food bowl," Chris pointed out, pulling it from the bag. "And food to go with it."
"So the custom diamond doggy dish and personal chef are out?" Stark asked.
"I thought rich people stayed rich because they were cheap."
"Lies. Lies told by people who are not me."
"Incoming projectile," Jarvis warned.
"What?" Stark's head snapped around just as the window exploded inwards.
"STARK!" roared a new voice, deep and bull throated. "It's time you answered for your greed!"
Science, once again demonstrating his intelligence, bolted from the room.
"Peter! Doreen!' Stark yelled. "Bunker! Now!"
Standing in the window was a man in blue and silver armor, a long metal tube in his hands and standing atop some sort of hovering disc. "Did you think you wouldn't be found out? Did you think your murdering all the people those drugs could help would go unnoticed?" The intruder pointed his staff at Tony, who dodged the blue and white blast by diving behind one of the couches, the blast leaving a large hole in the backrest.
"Hey!" Stark yelled. "That's a Lawrence Terra! Direct from the man himself at his gallery!"
"Is that on Madison?"
"He moved to Third and Midtown two months ago. What drugs? Jarvis, do I know anything about drugs?"
"Only the kind on the top shelf of the bar, Sir."
"There. See?"
Another blast split the couch in two and the man leapt off his disc. Seeing his chance, Chris sprang. "Run, Mr. Stark!" he yelled, wrapping himself around the armored man's body. "I got him!"
"Do you?" The armored man asked and then pried Chris off himself and threw him at the window. An unbroken part of the window and Chris covered his face with his arms. This was going to suck. It was (more or less) according to plan, but it was going to suck.
Tony stared at the second hole and then focused his furious glare on the man. "I'm not going to kill you for that," he snarled. "Not at first."
"You think I enjoyed that? Do you think this gives me pleasure?" Another blast. "This is about accountability! About responsibility! About you and everyone else like you learning that your greed doesn't pay!"
"Okay, one, there's no one else like me, two, maybe you haven't noticed, but I regularly put on an armored suit and go fight bad guys, so I really don't know where this whole greed thing comes from. Three, and again, what drugs? I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Sir," Jarvis reported, "those blasts are composed of Beta Particle energy." And then in Tony's ear, Jarvis continued. "Captain Rogers and Agent Barton are en route, eta six minutes. Thor has not responded, but his locator beacon shows him moving in the tower's direction, eta two point five minutes. Agents Romanov, Coulson and Morse are moving into position via the stairwell. " A pause. "Sir, the Beta Particle blasts have caused significant interference in the tower's internal communication network and I am limited to the Avengers Comnet. I cannot summon your armor, ascertain the location of the children and Ms. Potts, or lock down the building."
"Any good news?" Tony muttered.
"The Giants have scored two runs in the fourth inning against the Red Sox and Stark Industries stock stands to close for the day with three point gain." That was good news. 'If I may suggest, Sir, try to get him talking to buy time until Thor arrives. Eta, two point three minutes." Which was probably a better plan than trying to run for it.
"So you're the heart patient," Tony said out loud. "I gotta admit, that surgery robot, those micro servos, you build all that? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm impressed, but I gotta ask, one engineer to another; A Lassetter array for the micro servos? Seriously? You do know that a Brensen setup is better in every way, right?"
"Silence!" the man bellowed and was then knocked aside by a red blast of energy. Standing in the window was a man in black armor. "What?"
"The what is kicking your ass," the man replied in a hollow, almost robotic voice, "and the why is throwing that guy out the window. Lucky for him, I was there to dump him on the nearest roof." There was the sound of metal against metal as the gauntlet on his left wrist popped out claws. "The name is Darkhawk, who the hell are you?"
"My name? My name is CARDIAC!"
"Hey, Blackbird Pie," Tony called out. "Do me a favor, find out how he said his name in all caps like that."
Cardiac snarled and fired off a blast in Tony's direction, and Darkhawk moved in, leading with his claws and carving three deep gashes across Cardiac's gauntlet. Cardiac responded by punching Darkhawk in the face and they settled down to trading blows.
"Sir, is it wise to point out out the design flaws of someone's engineering when that person is trying to kill you?" Jarvis asked.
"One, I was trying to get him monologuing, two, have you seen a Lassetter array? They suck in every way possible and then go ahead and invent new ways." Tony scrambled to a heavy chair, eyes on the door. "New, horrible sucky ways."
"Indeed, Sir, I have the complete schematic on file," Jarvis replied. "However, monologuing usually results from the villain explaining their plan resulting in either a fatal flaw being exposed or the hero being given time to act in a decisive manner to achieve victory." Out on the floor, Darkhawk threw Cardiac into an end table. "It does not," Jarvis continued," include insulting the villain's design sense except possibly in cases of trope aversion, lampshade hanging and deconstruction."
"What hanging lampshades?" Tony asked. "And why do I feel like I'm getting a lecture from Stephen Fry?"
"I have been studying the TV Tropes website and episodes of Jeeves and Wooster. I have found both to be highly instructive."
"Stark," Coulson broke in, "What's going on?"
"Cardiac wants to kill me, Darkhawk is fighting Cardiac, and my computer is hanging lampshades and talking like Stephen Fry. Where are Pepper and the kids?"
"Potts was last seen escorting Xavier and his associate to a secure location," Coulson replied. "No info Parker or Green. Sorry."
Tony nodded and pushed away his concern. "The one in black is a friendly, I'm pinned down and Jarvis can't summon my armor. I need an exit."
"Copy," Romanov said. Moments later, she burst from the hallway with a gun in each hand. She might not be as good as Barton, but she came damn close and bullets clanged off Cardiac's suit.
Cardiac whirled to deal with the new threat and Darkhawk cut three new chunks from his armor. Snarling, Cardiac elbowed Darkhawk in the throat and returned fire.
"This is Agent Phil Coulson of Shield!" Coulson shouted as he and Morse emerged, "Cardiac, you are under arrest, drop your weapon and stand down!"
"STARK!" Cardiac bellowed and began firing, switching targets rapidly and forcing Tony to seek cover behind an overturned coffee table as Morse and Coulson opened fire. Darkhawk tried to wrest the staff from Cardiac's hands, but the armored man was too strong and Darkhawk was hit by several shots and got thrown, leaving a trail of green blood, and landed behind an overturned love seat.
"You okay there, Blackbird Pie?" Tony called out.
"Yeah! Just . . . just . . . oh sonuvabitch! Just . . . owwwww . . . j- jus . . . oh, god, g-gimme a minute."
"Thor ETA is ninety seconds," Jarvis informed him.
"TONY!" Carrying the Mark 8 between them, Peter and Doreen ran out of the hallway, slinging the coffin-like case between them as only a pair of super strong teenagers could. "We got him!"
As the case slid across the floor, Peter and Doreen leapt at Cardiac, Peter covering the man's face with webbing, while Doreen went for the legs, trying to knock him over. Tony knelt as the case scanned him and then began unfolding into the Mark 8 armor. He was suddenly furious with Cardiac and he really wanted to beat the man to a pulp. Rising from his crouch as the HUD came online, he scanned the room. Romanov was down, and Cardiac was ripping the webbing from his face with glowing hands. Behind the bar, Morse, and Coulson were reloading and he couldn't see Peter or Doreen. "Cardiac!" Iron Man shouted, stomping over to Cardiac and punching him in the face. Then, just because, he hit him again. And then a third time.
"So be it," Cardiac replied and jabbed Iron Man in the chest, going straight for the Arc Reactor, which was well shielded and was unaffected. A second punch, however, briefly scrambled the HUD in Iron Man's helmet.
"Jarvis, memo to me; Mark Nine is to be more capable of hand to hand." Tony grumbled as he jabbed at Cardiac's shoulder.
"You may also wish to bestow the same improvement on yourself, Sir," Jarvis replied. "You have lapsed in your hand to hand practice with Mr. Hogan."
I gotta go with what I do best, J."
"I do not believe that the ability to drink a bottle of scotch in ten seconds would be of any help here, Sir."
A bolt of lightning flashed between them. "Cease this now!"
"Thor, buddy, you need to-" Iron Man stopped. Hovering just outside the window was a woman in a silver costume, held aloft through a massive tornado, her white hair whipping in the breeze and glowing eyes. "I said, cease!" She commanded and fired another bolt of lightning to make her point.
"Hold, Villain!" Bellowed Thor's voice. "For Asgard!"
"Thor, no!" Iron man called out.
With a crack of thunder, Mjolnir hurtled in, striking the silver woman in the back and throwing her forward into the room.
"Damnnation!" Cardiac snarled and shoved Iron Man backwards, before leaping onto his hovering disc and flying out the window.
"That's the bad guy, Thor!" Iron Man yelled, firing his repulsor beams. "On the disc! On the disc!"
Thor's bellow of rage faded as he took off in pursuit.
"Ugh." Darkhawk picked himself up off the floor, his wounds gone. "Did we get 'im?"
Iron Man raised his visor. "Nope. And also, the 'I saved the guy from falling and put him on a roof' line? Seriously, Igor? That's so Saturday Morning."
Darkhawk stared at him. "Hell."
Iron Man looked around the room. "Yeah, that about sums it up."
Author's Note: No, I did not make up Darkhawk and Cardiac, they're actual characters from the 90's era of Marvel. Darkhawk was the first comic series I collected regularly, so he has a special place in the cold shriveled lump of coal that is my heart.
As far as Cardiac, this isn't the last you've seen of him. You can look him up, but, spoilers . . .