Tony was on his hands and knees on the floor even before the gunshots went off, looking for his handheld. Thank God it wasn't a movie theater, he thought as he put his palm flat down on the floor so he could stretch himself out to reach for the small device - which was suddenly kicked out of his reach by a woman's black patent leather pump as the pop-pop of the gun touched off screams and jostling throughout the audience. He scrambled after it on all fours, tempted to bite the ankle in his way as he narrowly managed to pull his hand out from under a wickedly pointed high heel.

"Oh, these are such good seats, Tony," he said in a sing-song falsetto, mocking Pepper's speech earlier in the car as he worked his way another few inches forward. Where was it? In his own voice, he called out, "JARVIS!"

"Here, sir."

The AI's voice was cool and collected, belying the increasing seriousness of the scenario in the opera house. Tony spotted the soft blue glow of his handheld under a seat and flattened out on his belly to stretch his hand beneath to retrieve it. He had to scrabble a bit with his fingers, but he finally got a grip on it. This time he did get stepped on, and he let out an indignant yelp as a heavy foot tread on his back.

"Hey, this tux is Armani!" he barked. Struggling up, he grasped the back of the seat in front of him with one hand for leverage, his handheld clutched to his chest with the other.

"Sir, based on preliminary analyses, I can generate a series of counter-frequencies that should dampen the anomalous signal for a short time, but they will be effective only within two feet of your receiver. You and Miss Potts must stay very close to one another for it to be effective for both of you."

Close to Pepper? Definitely not a problem, Tony thought. At least, that's what he was thinking until he got a good look at her face, which was a rather intimidating mixture of fear and anger. Everything was going to hell around them. Was that an arrow in the damned stage? What the hell? He scanned the dark boxes along the side walls as he pushed his way toward Pepper, who'd just backhanded the man who'd been sitting next to them with her little beaded evening bag. From his handheld he heard a faint whine, which somehow made his teeth feel itchy.

"JARVIS, find me the quickest path out of this madhouse and tell Happy to get the car over to the exit. Oh... and make sure he's got the case ready for me."

"There is a map on your screen, sir, and I can give you additional audio directions should you become lost."

Tony jerked his head back, letting Pepper's purse whiz past his nose rather than smack him in the cheek. He caught her wrist, pulling her close to him. She tried to yank back, but he held on firmly. "Pepper, baby, I love you, and when we get back to the hotel, I'll be glad to talk about whatever's got you so pissed off. Right now we need to get out of here before something freaky fries our brains..." he glanced around again, "or we get shot by the love child of Phantom of the Opera and Robin Hood. Either way - not good."

As if on cue, a body came hurtling from one of the upper-tier boxes, the man's jacket fluttering as he plummeted toward the main floor. He landed with a loud, sickening crack across a row of seats. Pepper gave a squeak and wrapped her arms around Tony's neck, now mostly scared since she was inside JARVIS's area of influence. Tony thrust the handheld into Pepper's grip and swept her up in his arms, elbowing and shoving his way down the aisle toward the exit at the front of the auditorium.


"Sir, assuming this is in fact the Siren technology, I believe I can counter the signal effects, but there is a potential problem."

Coulson turned from his own monitor. The young analyst looked at him silently, as if waiting for permission to continue speaking. He raised both eyebrows and gave him a "come on" hand gesture.

"According to the CIA's reconstructed notes, the intended target of the technology's effects is the amygdala, which is in the antero-inferior region of the temporal lobes of the brain."

The analyst gestured vaguely around his own head. "It affects long-term memory modulation, which means the way we store things in our memories, and major emotions like love, fear, rage, sex drive, and possibly even sexual orientation. On some levels it's exceedingly primitive, generating an animal-level fight or flight response. Experimentally, direct electrical stimulus of the amygdala has elicited violent aggressiveness, sometimes to the point of self-destruction, which was the basis of-".

The senior agent held up a hand, palm out. Dryly, he said, "Let's cut to the chase before they're dead, please."

"I can send a burst through their comms that should counteract any effects they're currently experiencing. It will fry the remote equipment in the process, so we won't know whether it worked until they activate alternate contact. Besides the equipment, there's a chance one or both will end up deaf or brain damaged. Sir."

Coulson could see the hard facts of the scenario for himself. The mission was scrubbed. Both Hawkeye and Black Widow were potentially compromised. Maybe that had been true from the moment they'd arrived. He certainly didn't want to lose either agent or see them come to any harm, not on his watch. He considered them friends as well as colleagues. However, the reality was this: when it came to fight or flight survival, neither was the type to run away. That was a consequence he didn't even want to imagine for the civilians on the scene - a consequence S.H.I.E.L.D. could not afford.

"Do it," he said flatly.