Chapter 7 of Arbitrary.
A/N: After this chapter, updates will stop for a week or two, as I am going to band camp.
"Has he changed at all, Panther?"
"He has stabilized somewhat. The effect of whatever our adversary used seems to have weakened."
"What did he use?"
"I am not so certain." The Wakandan faced him, hard-lined face impassive. "Tony is radiating the same signature of the abnormal one I detected in the apartment."
Captain nodded, lost in thought. After a moment of silence he spoke.
"Do you think the… kid would be able to help?" When the king turned to look at him in disbelief—or as close to disbelief as he would get—Captain sighed and crossed his arms. "I know it's crazy, T'Challa, but whatever he used on Tony is fatal. What if he was affected? Wouldn't he have a cure?"
Panther turned away, lifting his mask over his face. "I cannot express my opinion on your inquiry, Captain. We do not know why we were attacked or where this bizarre adversary has come from. His intentions are not clear and are erratic, therefore I an unsure." He paused, but not long enough for Captain to reply. "If he was affected, however, it could be possible for him to have a remedy to this unnatural illness. But why he would help us, I do not know, and I think it is highly unlikely."
"I was thinking you would say something like that." Captain inhaled and exhaled deeply. "I'm going to check on Hawkeye and Hank. Tell me if he worsens or… you know."
"If you wish."
My body was in pain.
No. Not pain.
Torment.
Every spare moment was used to attack me with everything he had. Fire raced through my veins, white-hot rage blinded me. It was impossible to breathe; my heart attempted to bore a hole in my chest.
Everything burned; every inch of my body was percent by his rage. My chance for survival was low, and he knew this.
It was the only thing able to save my life.
And he knew it.
If he destroyed me, there would be no other body powerful enough to be his host.
Ironic? Maybe.
Lucky?
Ha. Luck.
What a waste of time.
The room was noticeably colder, enough so they could see their breath crystallize before them.
"Why's it so cold?" Hawkeye complained, rubbing his arms. "It wasn't even this cold in the apartment."
"I wouldn't know," Hank responded calmly, having recollected his temper, as he loaded the syringe with sedative. "I hadn't arrived until of late." His gaze traveled back to their captive and he sighed and shook his head. "He's worse?"
"You can't see so yourself?" the archer snapped. "What are you, blind?"
Hank turned, hazel eyes examining. "You were the one who watched him—or did you?"
"Yes, I did." Hawkeye rolled his shoulders, joints audibly cracking and popping back into place. "Do we have to wake him?"
"It would be better. His body, fully awake, could absorb the medicine better."
"I don't think 'fully awake' is an option, Hank." Hawkeye approached the unconscious teem slowly, eyes narrowed. "He may be unconscious and experiencing a nightmare, but he's out of it. Now way he'll be able to absorb the sedative." He backed away from the teen, facing the scientist. "We'll have to wake him ourselves."
"I know."
"How?" The archer's icy blue eyes flashed.
"That's what I'm still trying to figure out." he began pacing, muttering beneath his breath. After a moment of somewhat irritated waiting, Hawkeye spoke.
"What are you doing?"
Hank continued muttering, now locked in an intense staring contest with the wall.
"Hank—"
"Electricity!"
Hawkeye froze and stared. "What?"
"We can use electricity to wake him up. It'll jumpstart his systems."
"Hank, he's not a machine. The shock would overwhelm his heart."
The scientist shook his head. "No, no, no." he faced Hawkeye, hazel eyes bright. "The kid's—he's clearly not human. The charge won't kill him; only do so enough to shock his body the right amount so the heart and nervous system send a message to the brain."
"You lost me at 'kill him'."
"What—?" Hank glared at the archer. "An electrical shock won't kill him, it'll wake him."
Icy blue eyes rolled. "Could've said that."
"Honestly, Hawkeye, I don't know how Tony puts up with you."
"Are you sure this will work?"
"Ninety-nine point nine percent, actually." The scientist had his back to Cap, rushing back and forth as he set up the equipment needed for his test.
"What if it doesn't work?" Hawkeye snapped. "Are we just going to keep trying or let him wake up himself?"
"Someone's cranky," Wasp muttered, grinning nervously when Hawkeye glared at her.
"If it doesn't work, we'll have to try something else," Hank said calmly, "But I don't know what." He faced Captain and Panther. "Are you ready?"
They nodded, getting into their assigned positions. Hank approached the teen, adjusting the conduits on his body.
"He's not made of metal," Hawkeye observed rather obviously.
"Clearly, but the iron in his blood will be magnified by these," Hank retorted, motioning to the clamps that replaced his restraints.
"He'll break free from those if he wants to attack," Hawkeye stated.
"Barton, I swear if I hear another word out of you," Hank warned. "Panther and Cap, into your positions and be ready. Anything could happen." They nodded, and the scientist threw the switch.
The lights flickered and the sound of crackling electricity filled the air. Hank watched, his eyes bleached. They all watched, wary and nervous.
"He's moving!" Hawkeye hissed, nodding at the waking teen.
The others got into defensive positions, taking out their weapons.
Hank stared, his hazel eyes cold and examining, as he cut off the machine. It was eerily silent; no breath was heard. Everyone had their weapons—Cap his shield, Panther his vibranium, Hawkeye his bow, Hulk his fists, Wasp her rays, and Hank his suit—and were ready, should something occur.
The teen's eyes shot open.