A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for sticking in there and reviewing/subscribing! I really, really appreciate it! ^w^
Not too long between updates this time, of which I am especially proud of. Chapter eight is on its way, and then we get into the stuff that I've had written for a year, but didn't have a proper build up for. A few more chapters (twoish?), and then Loki!
There seem to be lots of cameos in the next chapter, so look out for them!
As always, a huge shout out to my beta BigTimeHiddlestoner!
After pedaling all night and spending a few hours asleep in the back of delivery truck, Tony had made it into the city. He'd avoided riding through most of the traffic, and he'd needed the couple of hours to rest his legs. Just because he'd been riding his bike every day didn't mean that he could spend three hours going without a break.
Once he'd gotten out of the truck and gave the driver a twenty, Tony walked his bike down the
sidewalk and tried to get his non-existent bearings. He'd spent a lot of time around Central Park, and had gotten very good at avoiding detection while looking for food and shelter. It didn't look like he was anywhere near Central Park at the moment, though he recognized the street signs he'd passed when running away from his apartment and the sounds of gunshots inside.
Taking a deep breath, Tony steeled himself to retrace his own steps, marking each street sign and intersection in the back of his mind. At one point, he got on his bike, weaving in and out of the few pedestrians on the sidewalk, until he found it.
The apartment building was obviously for the rich, save for the one apartment on the corner with
boarded up windows and faded police tape. Dr. Yinsen's words echoed in the back of Tony's mind as he stared up at the boards.
I love you, Anthony. You will always be my son.
Grow up to be a good man.
You have a very special heart.
Tony wasn't too proud to admit that he was crying, until he could scrub away the tears with his dirty hands, and then he hadn't cried in the first place. He was physically torn away from his musings when someone plowed into his back, sending him toppling in a heap with his bicycle off the curb and halfway into traffic. Too stunned to even move,
Tony had no idea what was happening as a pair of hands sporting a darker complexion appeared
in his peripheral vision, hooking under his armpits to drag him back to the sidewalk just as a truck appeared to run over the poor bike.
"What the HELL?!" Tony yelled as soon as his ears stopped ringing. Unable to get his footing, he fell backwards onto the sidewalk, the contents of his duffel bag digging uncomfortably into his back.
Looking up, he found two teenagers looming above him, studying him with a scrutiny that left the
hairs on the back of his neck standing up.
"You new around here, kid?"
Tony craned his neck to examine the teenager who spoke, finding a lean, blond teenager with blue eyes and a purple shirt with holes in it, coupled with black cargo pants and dirty sneakers. He was older than Tony by at least two years, and apparently had a bone to pick with new kids.
"Is your face new around here?" Tony spat, knowing that he was only making things harder on himself. His mouth always got him into trouble.
"Last I checked, nah," the teenager replied, as if Tony hadn't just been an ass to him.
"I should really check you for a concussion," the other teenager chimed in.
Craning his neck, Tony looked to the other side to stare at the taller of the two, whose skin tone was darker, with messy curls that nearly concealed his eyeglasses and brown eyes. He was wearing a green button up shirt and some ratty brown corduroys (at least, that's what Tony thought they were) and beat up loafers. Even older than the blond, he seemed a little fidgety, but his hands were sure when he helped Tony to sit up and shined a light (that appeared totally out of nowhere) in his eyes.
"I've had those before," Tony remarked, vaguely fascinated with the way the teenager was checking him over. It felt like he actually cared, which was probably a lie, but nice while it lasted.
"Why'd you guys bowl me over? That bike cost money, y'know," Tony growled.
"Wasn't us," Purple Shirt retorted, his tone defensive.
"What Hawkeye meant to say," Mr. Curls interjected, "was that we weren't the ones that knocked you over, though we did drag you out of the street, so you didn't have to die with your bike."
Tony pushed away the guy's hands, moving to stand up. He was a little woozy, but nothing he hadn't experienced before; several swirlies in a row could achieve the same effect.
"Come on, Doc. Leave him. He's obviously a tough guy," 'Hawkeye' spat, as if Tony had gravely offended him in between not-dying and meeting strangers.
"You know we can't," 'Doc' replied.
"Sure we can. He's got nice clothes, had a nice bike, probably has a nice life, dontcha' short stuff?" Hawkeye asked.
Tony scowled at him, shaking off the rest of his vertigo to form a coherent reply."You can go screw yourself."
"Oh look, Doc! Kitty's got claws!"
"Knock it off, Hawkeye," Doc said, sighing in a way that meant he'd dealt with Hawkeye's mouth before. "Pay attention. He's got used everything. Jeans, shirts, shoes. He's been out in the sun, has a suspiciously large duffel bag, and he had a bike. Where's he going in the city with that stuff?"
"To the Y? Why the hell would I know?"
"What's your name?" Doc asked, his smile a little lopsided, but without malice.
Tony hesitated; names gave people power over other people. He couldn't be Tony Stark. He couldn't be Tony Yinsen. Maybe he could just be Tony, and find something else later.
"Tony."
"That it?" Chirped Hawkeye.
"What's your full name?" Tony asked in turn.
"Nunya. I asked you first."
"What are you, twelve?"
"No, are you?"
"Maybe!"
Tony shook his head, irritated with the teenager and his attitude. He had somewhere to be, and Hawkeye and Doc weren't helping him get there. Brushing himself off, Tony raked a hand through his hair, resettling his duffel across his back. He had only lost money in his bike, and he could probably buy another from a consignment shop.
"How about this," Doc interjected, "do you have a place to stay tonight, Tony?"
"Sure."
"Liar," Hawkeye crowed.
"Why don't you guys just leave me alone?" Tony complained, taking a few steps back.
"We can do that, can't we Doc? Tony will be fine all on his own."
Doc's expression kind of reminded Tony of Ms. Munroe, and how she looked when he talked in puzzles or was caught getting into fights with the older students. She'd been conflicted between punishing him or giving him a hug, though the odds were about fifty-fifty. Her hugs had been pretty great, though.
"We do have to get going," Doc conceded, "keep out of trouble, and try not to get run over, okay?"
Tony nodded, taking another step away from the older kids. Doc seemed nice enough, but Tony had met enough kids and gotten thumped enough to know that Hawkeye was an asshole and maybe a bully.
"Yeah, sure."
Doc walked away, glancing over his shoulder once before ducking into an alley. Hawkeye walked backwards, flicking Tony off before he followed Doc and disappeared.
Sighing, Tony stepped off the sidewalk and into the street, looking both ways before fetching his mangled bike. There'd be no salvaging without a workshop, so he found the closest alleway and dragged it over, the screwdriver and wrench from his duffel already in hand. He took the screws and bolts, a few of the spokes, then stripped the brake wiring with a pair of needlenose pliers. It only added a little bit of weight to his duffel, not noticeable enough to make it a bad decision.
Standing up and wiping his forehead with his sleeve, Tony stepped onto the street to get his bearings. The warehouse district was somewhere near Koreatown. Maybe. If he headed that way, he might get lucky and find the Avengers kids. If not, he'd start at Central Park and ask around. Couldn't be that difficult, could it? After all, he knew how to fight now, and he had money so he wouldn't starve. He could do this.
Tony hadn't been too dirty or scruffy to get on the buses that traveled across the city, and he'd saved time riding instead of walking or even riding his bike, (may it rest in pieces.) He got off in time to catch dinner at a hot dog cart, and wandered in the waning daylight to see if there was anywhere that screamed Hideout for Runaway Kids!
Crumpling up the paper from his hot dog, Tony turned down a side street, not really paying attention while he stared up at the skyscrapers around him. It made sense that he would smack right into the chest of someone, though he didn't expect to be shoved into the nearest lamppost.
"Watch where the fuck you're going," growled a teenager in a nasally voice.
Tony looked up, his teeth bared at the boy who looked to be his age. They were the same height, though the kid had stringy dirty blond hair that was combed over weird, and glasses that made him look like a jackass. His clothes looked better than Doc and Hawkeye's, but Tony could tell that he didn't live in an apartment or in a house.
"Why don't you make me?" Tony barked, knowing he was getting himself in trouble.
"I do believe I will," the guy replied, his voice grating to Tony's ears. Knowing he was going to get into a fight, he tightened the strap on his duffel, shifting into the stance Logan had taught him.
"Look at you, Mr. Boxer. D'you think you're gonna hit me?"
Those were the last words he got out before Tony punched him in the face with a right hook, catching him on the jaw with an uppercut as a follow up. The guy staggered backwards, making a stupid whiny noise as he covered his face with his hands.
"What the hell?!"
"You shouldn't pick fights if you can't take a punch!"
"I don't think I'll be the one punching after all," the teenager replied darkly, straightening his glasses as he uncovered his face.
Tony glanced around, a trill of fear racing down his spine as a teenager wearing a hockey mask appeared out of nowhere, moving to stand next to the guy with glasses. He was tall, but he'd either grown out of being gangly, or he just worked out. He wore what Tony would call a forest green long sleeved shirt, with camo pants, with combat boots. Great.
"No hard feelings, kid. No one touches Justin Hammer and gets away with it," Guy with Glasses explained.
"Justin Hammer shouldn't talk in the third person," Tony suggested, keeping his hands up, eyes never leaving Forest Green.
"Victor? Would you like to teach this punk a lesson?"
"Doom would enjoy it," replied Hockey Mask.
"Do all of you talk in the third person?" Tony asked, his voice cracking a bit. He knew he wasn't going to win, but he'd be damned if he didn't go down fighting. Logan didn't waste his time teaching cowards, and Tony wasn't going to start being one just because a serial killer teenager was about to beat the shit out of him.
"Doom" took a step forward, then moved into Tony's space far faster than physics suggested he should have. Tony had semi-expected the blow to the side of his head, though that didn't stop his ears from ringing as he staggered backwards.
Doom moved in again, and while his head still felt off kilter, Tony slid under and away from the teenager's grasp, moving into a position where he could use Doom's weight against him. When Doom reached to smack him, Tony used the opportunity to jump and wrap his arm around the guy's neck with one arm, then grabbing the other arm to hold out straight underneath his chin. With Doom facing away from him, Tony shifted his weight and hip checked the guy, flipping him over his shoulder and onto the concrete sidewalk.
Doom gasped behind his mask, stunned long enough for Tony to turn and face Hammer, who suddenly looked very unsure of himself.
"I don't like bullies," Tony stated, advancing on him. He knew that he only had a bit of time before Doom caught his breath, and Tony intended to take advantage of it.
Before he could do anything, a loud whoop echoed against the walls of the buildings around them, and in the next instant the sidewalk was teeming with kids of all ages, led by Hawkeye and Doc. Hammer took a step back, glancing quickly at Doom, who was getting to his feet.
"We don't like bullies either," Hawkeye said in a too-cheery tone, leveling Hammer and Doom with a glare. He was carrying what at first glance looked like a machine gun, though Tony was well acquainted with the brand of airsoft gun (Xavier's kids had wicked aim.)
"Good to see you again, Tony," Doc said, his voice deceptively pleasant. Tony could tell that he was kind of pissed off, and instinct told him to behave.
"Hi?"
"Do you rejects know this kid?" Hammer asked, gesturing to Tony.
"We've met. Are you picking on pedestrians again, Hammer?" Hawkeye replied, leveling his gun at first Doom, then Hammer.
"Don't even say I started it," Tony growled. "You're the jackass who wanted to fight. Not my fault you can't take a punch."
"Why, you little-" Hammer began, then yelped when Hawkeye sprayed him with pellets.
"Shove off you two," Doc warned, his voice pleasant and light. The kids in their group were stony faced, standing side by side in a ring that wouldn't let Doom or Hammer escape in any direction other than the way they came.
Hawkeye brandished his airsoft gun as an incentive, dramatically wiggling his trigger finger as the two teens backed away.
"You haven't seen anything yet, Tony," Hammer sneered, finally turning his back on the group when he and Doom deemed themselves far enough away. He yelped again when Hawkeye sniped him, which was impressive for a gun like that, but didn't come back.
"Are you guys crazy?" Tony asked once Hammer was out of range.
"Debateable," Doc said with a firm nod.
"We weren't sure 'bout you, short stuff," Hawkeye said, ruffling Tony's hair, which was still short from the last mandatory haircut at Xavier's. Tony allowed it, if only because the guy's aim with his gun was kinda terrifying.
"Glad to know you're on our side, Tony," Doc said, though he was preoccupied with counting heads, letting out a positive hum when all of the kids were accounted for.
"What side is that?" Tony asked, rubbing the spot where Doom had cuffed him. Jerk.
"The side that's not into bullies," Hawkeye filled in, his gaze sweeping the street around them before he looked at Tony. "You're a scrappy little shit. I've never seen Doom go down so quick, unless Hulk is around."
"Hulk?" Tony asked, then shook his head. "I hate bullies. But why does that matter?"
"It just does. You got a place to sleep tonight? And don't lie to me, shorty."
Tony glared at Hawkeye, then weighed his options. He probably wouldn't find anywhere to sleep that wasn't in an alleyway, and then he'd spend time turfing out a spot for himself in the next few days.
"Will you kill me in my sleep?"
"Only if you snore," Doc replied, smiling.
"Who are you guys? Can you stop with this mysterious shit?"
"Oh my," Hawkeye gasped, clutching his gun against his chest, "Tiny here hasn't heard of us!"
"It's Tony," Tony grumbled. He wished they'd stop jerking him around and just get on with it.
Doc stepped away from the other kids, who had taken up chatting quietly with each other, then held out his hand to shake. Tony took it, his brows furrowed.
"I'm Bruce, AKA "Doc". I'm second in command of the Avengers."
"Uh," Tony mumbled, knowing he sounded stupid as he shook hands with an actual Avenger.
"Don't hog all the limelight, Doc. I'm Clint AKA Hawkeye, 2nd Lieutenant to Doc's Lieutenant. He just doesn't want to sound cool. He's secretly an old man in a teenager's body," Hawkeye stage whispered, smacking Doc's hand away to pump Tony's hand twice before spinning away.
"Alright, rugrats. Scatter to HQ, doubletime!" Hawkeye shouted, brandishing his gun.
The kids around them laughed, pushing each other in their haste to scramble down different streets, presumably all headed to the same place.
"Ignore him. He's mostly harmless," Doc apologized, running a hand through his messy curls. "We have an extra bed if you'd like to stay the night. Cap would never let us hear the end of it if we let a kid who stood up to Hammer sleep on the streets."
Tony nodded dumbly, because there was nothing else he could do. He'd expected to find the Avengers somehow, but not for them to find him.
Shrugging, he followed Doc down the street and through a maze of alley way and side streets that eventually led them to the gate of a warehouse surrounded by brick walls at least eight feet high. Tony calculated the height and weighed the probabilities of jumping off of it and surviving, trailing after Doc as he stopped in front of the gate and made some weird bird noises. After a moment it opened, and they were escorted to the warehouse by a somber pair of twins (who didn't actually sport the same hair color). The one with silver hair shot Tony a quick grin, but it went away when Doc glanced at him.
"Relax," Doc murmured. It didn't do anything to stop Tony's nervous twitching. Logan hadn't said the Avengers had a teenage power structure going on, or that he'd feel like he was being led to a firing squad. No, Logan had just thrown money at him.
The main door to the warehouse rolled open on squeaky wheels, revealing a miniature tent city the spanned the entire floor plan. A few tents were actual tents, but most of them were sheets held up by sticks or hung on a clothesline that ran across the whole warehouse itself.
A few kids ran up and down the rows, laughing while they chased each other. Others were curled up on ratty pillows reading battered copies of books, chatting quietly, or even wrestling. At the back of the warehouse, three tents were raised away from the others. Tony guessed they belonged to Doc and Hawkeye, since two tents were purple and green, though the third red, white, and blue tent probably belonged to "Cap", whoever he was.
A kitchen area dominated one corner of the warehouse, full of beat up appliances and a stove that looked like it was about to collapse in on itself. Card tables that looked older than the warehouse were set up right outside, lopsided chairs, step ladders, and buckets serving as seats for all the kids. Various metal trash cans were set up around the warehouse, and it was obvious that they used them for warmth or light at night.
Tony wondered how they all managed to not catch on fire, but his pondering was cut off when Doc led him to the Fourth of July tent. He indicated for Tony to stay where he was, while he ducked inside the tent to fetch something or someone.
Hawkeye sidled up to Tony without making a single sound, nearly scaring the electromagnet straight out of his chest. Rubbing the front of his shirt, Tony let out the breath he'd been holding in, glaring up at the older teenager.
"You're a dick, you know that?"
"With a capital 'D', little man."
"Why do they call you Hawkeye?" Asked Tony, switching tracks. He really hated short jokes.
"I'm an expert sniper, Tiny Tim. I got great aim, and I happen to be badass with a bow."
"Compound or recurve?" Tony asked absently, recalling the different types that he'd learned about at the mansion for their archery courses.
Hawkeye made a happy noise, his eyes bright when he turned to face Tony. "You know the difference? Dude, that makes you the first. I'll never afford a compound, even second hand. I've got a takedown recurve. Highly portable. That's it, shrimp. You're my new favorite."
Tony squawked when he was pulled into a rough hug that let Tony know that there was some muscle to the gangly teenager. Still, he didn't fight it too much, because he missed hugs and maybe Hawkeye wasn't so bad except for when he was being a dick and making short jokes.
"Cap's not feeling so hot today," Hawkeye explained when Tony stared at the Tent of Patriotism. "I'm sure he's gonna let you stay, because he's got a bleeding heart and all that."
"What's wrong with him?" Tony asked, peering up at Hawkeye.
"Nothing 'cept his health."
"Oh."
Doc finally emerged from the tent, followed by a tall blond who looked to be older than both Doc and Hawkeye. He was wrapped up in a blanket, layered in several hoodies, and had all the appearance of a teenager who needed bed rest and some chicken noodle soup. The first thing Tony noticed was how pale Cap was, with dark rings under his blue eyes that left him feeling uneasy. His hair was combed over in a wholesome way that reminded Tony of the old films he'd watched with Dr. Yinsen, though he really didn't want to think about that.
Dragging his mind back to the present, Tony snapped out of it just in time to catch Cap's introduction.
"I heard you punched Hammer and flipped Doom right over your shoulder," Cap began, a severe note in his voice. Despite the tone, Tony could see the uptick of a smile at the corner of Cap's mouth.
"He had it coming. I accidentally ran into him in the street, and he got nasty right off. I've spent a lot of time being bullied, and I could spot him a mile away. Then he sicced that crazy hockey guy on me!" Tony explained, embarrassed when his voice cracked.
"That's Victor von Doom," Cap explained. "He and Hammer run in the Red Skull gang that's based out of an orphanage. Still can't believe a little fella like you flipped him."
Cap wheezed out a laugh at that, but he apparently didn't let it drag him down. "Anywho. The Avengers welcome anyone who stands up against bullies. We've got a spot for you around here somewhere, but we'll have to talk if you stay long term."
Glancing around the warehouse, an idea formed in the back of Tony's mind. The Avengers were obviously the safest option, but their base camp could use a lot of work. It was convenient that Tony was good at that kind of thing.
"I fix things," he blurted out. Cap raised an eyebrow, and Doc suddenly appeared at Tony's other shoulder with the same kind of stealth as Hawkeye.
"Like what?" Cap asked, obviously humoring Tony at that point.
"I fix cars, electronics. I can wire up some decent electricity. Get a hot water tank. Fix your stove. I could weld some stuff, and maybe like...bunk beds or something? Just give me a chance," Tony pleaded. He hadn't realized how desperate he was until he heard his own voice.
"You can do all of that? You're only like, twelve," Hawkeye pointed out.
"I'm smart for my age," Tony shot back.
"No harm in giving him a chance," Doc stated, exchanging glances with Cap. Some kind of agreement happened, and Cap eventually looked over at Tony again.
"You'll be put on probation. The least we can do is put you up for awhile for fighting Doom. If you do what you say you can, we might be able to make you an official Avenger," Cap explained with a smile.
"He could lead the Tiny Tots!" Hawkeye crowed, grinning broadly. "Tiny Tony and the Tiny Tots! Yes!"
Tony shook his head, warring with the urge to punch Hawkeye in the face or in the nuts. Giving up on the archer, there was only one thing he could say.
"Deal."
Thanks for reading! Reviews are always welcome!