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Yesterday's weaknesses are today's strengths

Steve had just returned from some pickpockets on the streets, happily counting the money it had earned him when he saw the cops nearby. He hid first, and once he found it safe, he ran to the abandoned hotel and made his way down to the -1 floor.

"Quick, hid all the stuff. There's cops on the corners and they gonna come here."

In a quick frenzy Natasha and Loki immediately started hiding pillows, blankets, food they had and their personal belongings, hiding them in a hinged trapdoor, flush with the surface of a floor. Tony, Thor and Clint dragged the mattresses out of the stage to the backstage where they'd find a good place to hide them.

Once Natasha and Loki were done hiding their stuff on the trapdoor, the two ran to meet the others in the backstage. They found each other in no time and quickly agreed that they'd split up after leaving through the hotel's door.

"They're coming." Clint said anxiously in a low tone of voice. His eyes closed, sensing quiet steps walking closer and closer, steps that no-one else could listen so far.

After Clint's words, they all started running but were more advanced than poor Loki, trying to catch up with them. Steve stood behind upon noticing that Thor was just running away, confused (this of running from police was new to him) and completely forgotten about his little brother. He grabbed Loki by the waist and carried him in arms, running slower, but still faster than what Loki had been running.

Once they were out of the door, Loki realized he had lost his brother and was looking around like a maniac. Steve exited the building, put the kid back on his feet and after a quick head nod, he disappeared around the corner. Thor grasped his brother hand and forced him to run at his pace.

Bruce returned to the hotel. Having entered by the back door, he was far from suspecting that the police was there. He had 20 dollars in his pocket, a smile on his face and his stomach was somewhat full. It had been quite a productive day of stealing coins from beggars and picking up food from fruit stalls. He heard many voices coming from the theater and quickly knew that that wasn't any good. He stopped by the door and quietly peered. NYPD agents were in there, rummaging through everything.

He need to get out of the there.

Bruce wanted to exit out of the main door when he heard people making their way down. They were upstairs too, so he couldn't leave. And if he couldn't leave it only meant he had to hide. And he was an expert on that. He was used to hide from his father when he wanted to beat him up, so hiding from (apparently) harmless NYPD agents would be a bit easier. Still, they were too many so he needed a good hiding place.

Firstly, he hid under a card box abandoned on the hallway. He was balled up, listening to the strong footsteps of agents passing by the box, completely unaware of him underneath it. When there was no noise of movement, he carefully lifted up the box and examined the hallway. He was just feet away from the theater's entrance, where dozens of agents were. Bruce smartly crawled by the shadows of the hallway, having one goal in mind: slide down the laundry chute.

He was just about to climb inside it when he heard more police officers coming and so he hid the elevator. But he couldn't hide in there for much long. It was old and out of service elevator, shaky, and one abrupt movement could end up on crashing the elevator cabin on the bottom of the shaft. Not to mention that the door was a collapsible door and they'd notice him in short time.

"Let's take a look over here." A man's voice spoke, coming closer to the elevator.

His steps were coming closer. Bruce's heart was untamed, pounding fast and hard on his chest. His chubby hand covered his mouth so that he could hold his troubled breathing in his mouth. He gasped, distressed as memories from his childhood came to his mind.

"Bruce!" He heard his father's drunken yell.

The little boy shook like a leaf on the wind and he quietly yelped. Bruce's eyes filled with tears as flashes of his father's angry figure haunted his mind. He gripped his hand tighter around his mouth, terrified by the delusions of his raged father.

Bruce squeezed himself even more to the corner of the elevator, standing on the tip of his toes, as the steps were closer and closer.

"Oh, come on, Mike," Another man said. "we're nearly at the end of the hallway. Who'd be the idiot to hide in there?"

Bruce let out a relieved sigh when he heard the rubber outsoles squeaking, rubbed against the tile floor, as the man swirled on his heels and walked away.

Fearfully he put his head out of the elevator and peered. Seeing no-one near, he left his hiding place and walked to the laundry chute. He hurried in opening it and jumped to reach to climb it up. His legs wiggled on the air because the laundry chute was built-in a rather high place of the wall. He didn't have time to shut the metal door because he immediately started sliding down the duct.

Luckily he didn't fell on his face when he dropped at the laundry on the floor below, but he did staggered a lot to not fall down, all due to the excessive force he had to exercise over his legs to cushion the fall. He was ready to fall on his feet because he knew he wouldn't have laundry to fall over as he had seen in many movies on the TV.

He found himself at the old laundry on the basement. It was all dark, filled with spider webs everywhere. There wasn't anywhere to go. The division that shared walls with the laundry was the pantry where he knows many insects live and where there's nothing now. There was, although, an internal staircase that led to the floors upstairs, which he'd have to use.

He opened the heavy metal door, worn out by the time and lack of use. Before him, two flights of stairs without any light. All the darkness and absolute silence scared him and awakened in him deep fears.

Bruce breathed in and started running upstairs, terrified, feeling to be chased. Eventually the fear crushed him. His legs failed and he fell on the stairs' platform. His face hit the ground and he couldn't get up anymore, weakened by frightening noises and ghosts that his mind saw floating to him and penetrating his body. His heart pounded uncontrollably and he whimpered, scared.

He knew there was nothing there, but his childhood fears were making him picture horrific things. He heard his father's voice, his mother's screams, things being shattered during a heated fight. He could picture before his eyes the drunken and raged image of his father walking to him. Even all those ghosts and characters from horror movies were coming to his mind.

He balled up and cried until he realized that all that was surrounding him was darkness, silence and coldness. There were no demons or ghosts, no creepy voices. It was all just a product of his imagination.

Bruce got up, at last. Firstly he was up on his knees but then back on his feet. He wiped away the tears and snot to the shirt's sleeve and continued to climb upstairs. Every once in a while a sob came out of his mouth, uncontrollably, making his not-yet recovered body shiver.

By that time, the police was exiting the building, taking with them some junkies and homeless that were too slow to hide. The police knew that there might be kids living in that abandoned hotel, but they didn't find any and New York needed them for to solve more important problems other than to be chasing after homeless kids.

Bruce arrived just in time to the theater. All the drug addicts and homeless were rummaging through everything, hoping to find something that they could steal from the kids, to sell or keep.

"Hey!" The kid shouted at the top of his lungs. "What are you doing?" Bruce ran to them, worthlessly trying to stop them. "Hey, that's ours!"

No one paid attention to that miniature of human being. But they did paid attention to someone else.

"No-one leaves until I say so." All the junkies and homeless stopped upon listening to Fury's ear-piercing and roaring voice.

"Nick!" Bruce shouted relieved, running to him, hiding behind him.

Once Nick Fury knew that the abandoned hotel was being searched by the police, he immediately made his way to there. Someone had to tip off the cops or else they wouldn't have conducted a search. Fury watched from afar and once the police left, he entered the building. He was sure none of the kids were there, but he knew that the others that live in that building would soon start going through their stuff to take them away.

Fury pulled him by the arm, taking a good look of his face. "Which one of them hit you?" He asked mad, noticing Bruce's red cheek.

"No-one."

"You don't have to be afraid of telling me. Which one was?"

"You told me to never stomach anyone hitting me again. No-one hit me, and no-one ever will."

Nick let out a slight sigh and said. "Damn right, kid. Now," He raised his look at the others there. "who call the cops in here?"

None of them spoke a single word. That upset Fury even more. He pulled out of his gun from the holster and pointed at them.

"Whoa, dude, put it down!" A middle-aged guy said, raising his hands, visibly stoned.

"Who called the cops?" Fury repeated his question, emphasizing almost every word.

"It must have been The Bulldog. Now," The woman continued. "just put that thing down, man. We ain't nothin' to do with him!"

"Who's The Bulldog?"

"Frankie Basque. He was pretty pissed about ya girl havin' steal his food."

Now Fury was getting even more heated. "Was he the one who stung her with syringe?"

"I dunno man. Just let us go!"

Fury put his back in the holster and left the warning. "Any of you mess with any of my kids again and I fucking put a bullet in your head. Now, all of you, leave everything you've picked and leave."

Upon that order, each and every person walked away, cursing Fury in a low voice.

"Now," Nick said, placing his hand over Bruce's shoulder. "how about I pay you something to eat? The others won't come back until the night fall."

"Uhm, I rather stay here, Nick. I've gotta guard our stuff."

"You're sure you'll be fine here on your own?"

"Yes. I'm a big man."

Fury chuckled. "You're a big young man." He ruffled his hair. "See you then, big man."

"Bye."

All thanks to Tony they had light in the theater. He managed to catch hold of the city's public electricity system and deviate some power electricity to the theater, so Bruce wasn't scared of staying there all alone. He entertained himself putting everything back on its place.

When, one after one, the kids returned to the hotel, had the night already fallen over the city, they found their stuff put back on their right place and Bruce peacefully sleeping on his mattress, wrapped on his blanket.

On upcoming chapters: the fourth is about Loki, the fifth about Steve and the sixth about Clint.

Hope to have readers.