Chapter 7: Chaos

Natasha had barricaded herself behind a bank of computers, preventing the roomful of enemies from shooting at her. Saving her ammunition for Lupe Santos, who was also well concealed behind computers and equipment, Natasha limited herself to kicking or punching when the clones came close, driving them back and knocking them down, but not doing much damage, because she never had time to finish one off before another attacked.

There were a lot more than two clones in the room — two dozen at least. It was hard to count, the way they were milling around, trying to protect Lupe and her equipment, trying to overwhelm Natasha, running into a back room and coming out with weapons and now turning to prevent the other Avengers from entering.

"What took you guys so long?" Natasha called, unruffled by facing an army of clones on her own.

"We were trying to be polite," Clint returned. "You know, ladies first?"

"I'm willing to share," Natasha offered magnanimously, as she vigorously kicked a clone into the center of the room.

Lupe's fingers flew across a keyboard. Emilio — the original? — stood in an old telephone booth that had been repurposed. It was hooked up to the computers and to clear vats of bubbling chemicals in a variety of colors. Lupe slammed her fist on a button and piercing violet light filled the booth, making the Avengers shade their eyes.

Veiled by the glare, Emilio screamed in agony or ecstasy or both, then the yell became two yells. The light shut off and another clone stumbled from the booth, leaving the original panting and shaking.

"They aren't clones!" Barton spat. "They're fucking photocopies!"

Emilio straightened himself when he saw the Avengers. "Again!" he yelled to his sister in Spanish (which all the Avengers present understood — what Tony didn't understand from his years in California, Jarvis could translate).

"But..." she started in concern.

"Again!" he demanded.

"I love you," she said sadly, and began typing again.

"I smell magic," Thor announced, literally sniffing the air.

Well, that explained why the genius engineer couldn't wrap his mind around the science involved. Fuck it, Tony thought.

"Thor, smash!" he ordered, pointing at the booth.

The Asgardian laughed. "We'll see if I can do as well as our green brother!" He leaped toward the equipment. The clones swarmed to stop him. Black Widow sprang from her cover to join Iron Man and Hawkeye in clearing a path for the Asgardian.

The clones swarmed over the team brandishing all manner of improvised clubs. Tony's repulsors pushed them back, but even if they slammed against the wall, they just got up and rejoined the fight.

Two clones broke away, charging at Thor's undefended back with heavy metal bookends held high.

"Enough of this," Natasha said. She pulled her gun and fired, at the same moment Clint loosed an arrow at the other man. Because the clones were barely armed, the agents fired to wound. Each clone was hit in the arm that held the weapon and, when punctured, each clone popped like a goo-filled balloon. A drab green slime spattered everywhere and dripped to the floor.

"What the hell?" Clint exclaimed.

"That didn't happen in the other room," Natasha said blankly.

Tony's brain whirred at lightning speed. "The original clones must ... must have been stabilized in some way," he announced. "With the new ones, there wasn't time."

"Works for me," Clint said with a grin. Instead of putting his latest arrow in his bow, he began to stab with it. It was satisfying to see each clone burst at the merest prick. He didn't feel like he was fighting people any more — people didn't pop like that. These were dangerous things.

Natasha kept her gun to defend Thor, and took her knife in her left hand to defend herself.

Tony switched from the ineffective repulsors to the smallest missiles in his epaulets and fired just one over Clint's head into a mass of clones. The burst shattered clones and splashed Clint with slime.

"Ewww ... urk!"

A mass on his chest reformed into a hand and grabbed the archer's throat. He dropped his arrow and grabbed the disembodied hand with both his. The thing was inhumanly strong. Clint's face was turning purple when Iron Man reached him and tore the hand free, then dropped it and stomped it into a smear with his metal boot.

"Let's not ... do that ... again," Clint panted, bent over to clutch his knees.

"Right, bad idea," Tony agreed. He stood guard, giving the archer a moment to steady himself, repaying Clint for his protection earlier.

Natasha saw her partner was OK and breathed a sigh of relief. Carrying knives in both hands now, she whirled through the crowd of clones in something like a combination of a Cossack sword dance and a buzzsaw. She spun and sliced, keeping out of the spatter as best she could. Her path was marked by collapsing clones and then her knife sank deep into one's arm and stuck in bone. It snarled at her.

She'd found the last stabilized clone.

To Be Continued

A/N: Next chapter, things get even weirder. (Yes. Really.)