Devastation
Avengers: Reforged III: Devastation
Earth- 199 621, 2023
New Asgard
"Brother, what could you have possibly forgotten that is this critical?" Loki hoarsely asked his brother from the corner with arms crossed, studying Thor who was currently rummaging around his old living space in New Asgard, Norway.
Originally, the two brothers had gone off with the Guardians of the Galaxy, but when Loki fell ill with something due to his new sickly stature a week ago, they had to return to New Asgard for Aesir medicine. While Thor planned to return to his interstellar comrades, Loki was to remain on Earth. He had no qualms however, as he and Valkyrie- Asgard's now-formal Queen since her coronation a few days ago- had begun a beautiful courtship. Currently, Thor was searching for something within his old housing.
Thor didn't answer Loki's question, instead now moving from his old chair to a wooden chest in the opposite corner from Loki. The God of Thunder cracked it open and suddenly the smell of old, stale beer blew out of the ancient box. Loki was actually taken aback by the scent- the God thought that his constant exposure to Thor's recent state, as well as his blossoming romance with Queen Valkyrie- the new term was actually quite fitting- that his tolerance to the toxic scent of alcohol would be stronger.
He was mistaken. Loki began coughing, almost doubling over if he hadn't grabbed his new polished redwood cane that rested against the wall. He brought his elbow to his mouth, not only to censor his cough but also the offensive, horrendous scent.
"Oh, sorry brother," Thor apologized, turning the chest away from his weakened brother slightly, as if it would ease the odour. Still, the gesture was appreciated. Loki took a steadier hold of his walking cane and flipped his lustrous black hair back as he approached Thor, resisting the smell. Thor was still ravaging the chest until he pulled out a small dark wood box, decorated cleanly with golden rims and screws. Thor blew a thick layer of dust off of the lid and popped open the left of two golden snap-locks.
When he opened the second the whole lid came with it, staying attached by only two dusty hinges that creaked with every movement.
Inside the box rested a platform of gentle velvet, untouched by age and dust thanks to its being sealed. On the velvet rested a lock of clean, thick black hair attached to a sturdy pin.
"Is that…" Loki trailed off as Thor removed the long clip of hair from the box by the pin before sticking it in his own hair. He straightened and adjusted it repeatedly, using his own long hair for a reference of how his brother's hair should sit. Eventually, when the lock was properly aligned Thor began braiding it with a handful of his own. He twirled and looped the hair all the way through until it sat properly. He turned back to his younger brother before gently clasping him on the left shoulder.
"I'm worthy of it again, brother, and I intend to prove it." He moved out of the room, summoning Stormbreaker with an open palm. Loki followed silently after a moment, his cane tapping with every other step. He felt oddly honoured by Thor, but he wouldn't allow it to get to his head, as his Queen would have more than a few things to say for him if he did.
He smiled at the prospect.
Wanda's Room, Avengers Warehouse
There his goddess lay, exuding raw passion from every surface of her pearly flesh; flush and red with a heaving blushing chest of his cause. Legs trembling and shaking with the most despondent, primal, fiery need from his cause. Vagina swollen, desperate and glistening from his cause. He knelt above her carnal body as if a brutally carnivorous angel descending from Heaven itself, as if a hungry, holy missionary hell-bent on a single mission; Make Wanda beg for him to begin, then to make her beg for him to continue, and finally force her to beg him to stop. It happened like clockwork every time they made their beautiful love; Vision would have Wanda at his complete, crippling mercy at the end, her body drained and exhausted and barely clinging to consciousness but impossibly deep in the most suffocating realm of love and passion.
And that's the realm of which he would deliver her tonight if it killed him.
Vision ran his hands down Wanda's creamy thighs, occasionally squeezing and massaging the inner muscles and making her squirm and pant in the best way possible. She whimpered desperately under his iron grip that was still gentle enough to only restrain her and show her who was in control, as well as leaving her begging for him to touch her more. She was tumultuously rubbing her thighs together, doing her best to give herself pleasure.
"Vizh… Please!" She begged quietly, spurring his actions to slow. He rubbed slow, carnal circles on a bone that was dangerously close to her radiant entrance, her radiance pounding his hand both in heat and glory. He smiled as he slowly drifted his finger up her inner thigh, the warmth strengthening as he became closer to her vagina. Wanda was carefully counting every torturous, painful millimetre he crossed, waiting and silently begging for him to just touch her. Tears stung her eyes as she released a sad, desperate moan. She looked to him with a broken face and choked out,
"Please, Vizh… Please. I need it," Vision smiled provocatively, slyly beginning to crawl up her body. Teasingly, he quickly slid his hand up her bare slit and flicked her clitoris, causing her entire body to convulse unnaturally as she shivered. Goosebumps rose all over her heavenly skin. He dragged his textured tongue over one on her dry, rock-hard peaks, forcing Wanda to bite her lower lip as to not alert the others to their activity. Vision dragged his mouth over her chest, across her collarbone- nibbling on the apex ever so- tormentingly slowly up her fine, deliciously pale throat as he suckled tantalizingly on her small vein, then past her jawline before finally reaching her lips, on which he placed the gentlest of kisses as her hot, swollen mouth begged for him.
Vision took hold of Wanda's bottom lip in his teeth, teasing her to her limit. He was torturing her in the best way possible, and it kept getting better but worse.
As if this torture couldn't increase further.
Her nipples were burning and aching with hardness and her vagina was on fire, flaming and spewing embers as Vision continued his painfully slow labours. He pinched the other of her reddening buds in two fingers, rolling it in between them and flicking it occasionally. Wanda's moans grew more hearty and throaty as slight tears of desperation pierced her jade-tinged eyes. Her gasps and moans were filled with tense passion, so tense it was almost unbearable. Soon, she would break past her limit and fall from the ever so precarious ledge her sanity teetered on, plunging into her deepest depths of mind-numbing orgasm.
"Say it, Wanda." Vision commanded, casting one of his arms down her side. He slid down her chest and under her sweater that fanned out across her mattress, counting the ribs as he passed. He fell onto her torso and continued falling until the plane swelled with Wanda's strong shapely hips and the band of her black skirt around them. Vision squeezed her bone, eliciting yet another quieted, desperate sob. Wanda looked to him with bleary eyes, her mouth curled downward in a painfully tense and edging lust. Her head fell back in a stifled moan and a sniffle as she begged,
"Vision…." Her voice was breaking and gentle, salty tears rolled down her almond face. Her glossy pink lips quivered with passion and tension before a shaky, sharp breath when her android lover rubbed a quick, calculated circle on her clitoris, her spine turning to ice.
"Say it." He commanded again, his voice edging with a rigid force that sent dominating shivers up and down Wanda's entire body. Her back arched, her breasts pressing against his tight pectorals. Her straining orgasm crawled ever closer.
"Vizh-" She begged, her eyes pleading for Vision to bring her to her desperately close climax.
"Say. It. Wanda." Vision ordered, stopping his ministrations altogether- at Wanda's weak, pitiful rebuttal. A pressure was building in her stomach, one that would roll over the Earth if it wasn't released. It needed to be quenched. It needed release.
She needed release.
"Mark me! Fuck me, Vizh! Make me forget who I am!" She cried despondently, her voice cracking like glass. She cared not if anyone heard, now only seeking the touch of her lover. Her mouth quivered violently as she spoke, and her eyes begged him to complete his side or the deal as she admitted what he so desired to hear.
Vision smiled erotically at her relented cry before he crushed his body against Wanda's in a romantic embrace. He removed the hand from Wanda's wrists, allowing her hands to clasp themselves onto his strong, finely-cut shoulders. She quickly glided her hands over his bones and down his edges, reveling in the feeling of her free hands.
She shivered violently when Vision thrusted his middle and index finger into her vagina. Her arms clamped around his body and she bit into his invincible shoulder. He grinned at her shuddering as he began to slowly drag his digits back out, scraping the walls of Wanda's slick, tender opening, the edges of her vice clamping on his fingers. He had just reached out as far as his fingertip before slamming them back in.
The force and pleasure of the thrust had clearly been almost too much as the woman threw her head back and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Vision smiled and sped up his ministrations, pleased as Wanda repeated his name quickly in ecstasy. The frequency was increasing as was the pitch as her release became more and more pressing. Her skin was blushing further and beads of sweat built on her elegant, alluring, meaty thighs. She was digging her nails as hard as she could into her lover's back- so hard, in fact, that she knew her black-painted nails surely would have drawn blood had Vision been human.
With a final, loving thrust Wanda shot forward and bit into Vision's shoulder, her body wrapping around his like the most powerful magnet, heat radiating off the both of them. Wanda's legs shook uncontrollably as her climax froze her, keeping her being in a state of orgasmic paralysis.
Vision slowly dragged his fingers out, reveling in the feeling of the hot film of Wanda's sultry fluid on his fingers. The brunette's spasms slowly shuddered to a stop nearly five intimate minutes later, but her breathing was still deep and heavy, the harsh orgasm clearly straining her breathing in her favourite way.
Wanda looked up into her synthetic lover's eyes and found what was a mirrored expression of lust satisfied and the deepest, most mind-and-body-numbing love. Unadulterated, passionate, deeper than any substance ever created by any being, known or unknown.
"O muză de o frumusețe de neimaginat. Culoarea viziunii mele," Vision whispered in Wanda's native tongue, caressing her cheek with a gentle hand. She sighed, her lip quivering slightly. She licked her lips before responding,
"Un bărbat frumos născut din voință, sacrificiu și pasiune. Textura a ceea ce ar trebui să fie omul." Vision's expression settled slowly as he repeated,
"Om?" He smiled warmly as the word escaped him, comforting him as Wanda Maximoff- his lover, his truest passion, the reason he fought for the world now- curled her nude form against his own, fading fast into a sleep of purity and peace.
Ever since the bombing of her apartment seventeen years ago, Wanda had suffered from horrendous nightmares. They had only become worse in 2014- when she had been effectively tortured into developing her psychic powers, again in 2015 with the death of her brother and the destruction of her home, and yet again in 2018 at Vision's two deaths- one of which she had been, at the cold, unloving demand of the universe, forced to cause. And then, the end of her life she found herself silently weeping and begging for many nights came and sealed her soul into a stone of death. She typically stayed alone until her nightmares were unbearable alone and she asked Vision to be with her, but recently she had been able to fall to sleep on her own again, her mind perhaps healing into a slight realm of normalcy since returning to a peaceful life. Well, as peaceful as possible, anyway. He knew that if tonight- any night- her dreams proved too hellish, he would be at her side until day broke, until her mind allowed her peace. Even then, he would stay her beloved, stay her lover.
Stay her Vizh.
Vision kissed the top of his sleeping woman's head before phasing himself out of her grip, allowing her to rest in peace. Her arm fell to the bed as Vision stood and rephased his clothing- a black sweater with a white, collared shirt underneath as well as brown slacks and black dress shoes. Perhaps too professional for casual wear, but it was comfortable and familiar enough for him.
As he went to open the door, he heard Wanda whimper in her sleep. He turned quickly, and what he saw sent him into a panic he hoped he would never feel again.
Wanda's face was contorted in pain, her eyes wide and glowing red under a thick veil of tears. Her lips were twisted in sadness and her cries were subdued and quiet, almost like they weren't hers. Vision was immediately at her side, doing his best to shake her awake without hurting her.
"Wanda! Wanda!" She shot up, the red light disintegrating. Her eyes spouted tears more fully as her arms wrapped around Vision. Her breathing was quick and shallow, filled with sobs. He embraced her tightly, trying to calm her. However, she pulled away and looked into his eyes.
"Wanda?" Vision asked in confusion.
"It's Natasha. Something's wrong," She stated hurriedly, holding her head to ease the fresh headache.
Common Room
Sam and Rhodey were discussing something solemnly and quietly, Steve, Bucky and Peggy stood silently behind them. Sam had arrived just a few minutes ago, clearly to deliver bad news. Steve had just called Natasha up from her redecorating spree.
Bruce and a freshly-dressed Natasha rushed into the common room, everyone but Sam turning to them silently. Bruce steeled himself and Natasha looked on in confusion as Bruce walked to Sam, who stood to meet him. Wordlessly, Sam handed Banner a small folder, which he took and quickly read. About halfway through his expression dropped somewhat and he looked back up to Sam, who looked down and nodded.
“Guys, what’s happening? It’s not my birthday for a while.” Natasha joked in a deadpan with her hands on her hips. Her joke caused only a smile in Rhodey, but even then it was a sad and contemplational one. Bruce finished the packet and returned it to Sam before turning around and pulling Natasha into a comforting embrace. His breathing was steady yet uncomfortable.
"What is it, Bruce?” It was a quiet moment only punctuated by Steve’s mumbling something quiet to Bucky before Bruce responded,
"Laura… Killed herself, earlier this morning…"
It felt like a gunshot to her fucking chest.
At first, she found out she couldn't breathe. Her lungs were frozen, stuck in time as her body continued to flow through the sand. Then, a slow, painful freeze crawled up her legs, shiveringly slow as it climbed, like icy vines wrapping their thorny arms around her calves. Bruce kept her steady as the paralysis cut up her thighs, slicing her hip, carving through her organs as the feeling sank in. Her ribs cracked as the icy touch continued, callously dodging her heart. Natasha choked as her collarbone turned to ice and her neck slowly lost feeling, continuing onto her jaw and her face, reached all the way down to the darkened ends of fresh-cut shoulder-length flaming hair. It was extinguished, thin wisps of smoke hissing as her soul cracked.
Natasha stood still in the confusing embrace- Bruce exuded warmth and empathy as usual, while her own body passed an uncomfortably familiar cold, dead, apathetic aura- her brain failing- simply denying- the fact that Laura had… that she… she had done… this. Her mind was simply not accepting it, denying it fruitlessly, to the point where legitimate anger was rising.
"Wh… What?" She asked silently, separating from Banner in confusion. She looked to the rest of the group. Sam nodded solemnly while Steve stood a little taller with Peggy in his arms. Rhodey sat and sank into one of the chairs. Natasha gripped Bruce harder. Sam looked to the floor while he stood, allowing the news to course over her.
Natasha stumbled into a seat as she reimagined her lover's calm, dreadful words.
'Laura killed… Herself,’ She thought it over again and again, not quite accepting the truth yet knowing it to be true. It was… She put her hands on her face as she thought about it more and more. She didn't want to ask, but she needed to know. She had a dull feeling to know how, but what was more important,
"Why?" Natasha slowly asked, looking up to Sam. He sighed heavily before taking a small sheet of lined paper out of the small packet he gave to Banner. He handed it gingerly to Natasha, who gently folded it open.
"That's… That's her… note. Careful with it," Everyone was silent as Natasha read over the note, Bruce over her shoulder reading it as well. The handwriting was messy, clearly written by a shaky, sobbing band.
'To whoever finds this first,
I don't think I can do this any longer. I miss him every day, and it's starting to hurt. More than any wound, more than childbirth. They're his too, and I can't even look at them without seeing… him. I want to see him again, I can't live without him. I'm sorry.' The handwriting continued to worsen, scribbles and shakes making it nearly unrecognizable as Laura's. 'And if Natasha Romanoff ever reads this;
This is your goddamn fault.'
Near the bottom of her words was a few small splatters of dried, dark orange… specks. Laura's dried blood speckled the bottom half of the note, cutting off abruptly just below a fold line.
Natasha dropped the note, allowing it to flutter to the cool floor. She hardly noticed, the bottom of her eyesight being consumed by stinging tears. She cupped her hands over her mouth as cries echoed from her throat. Her shoulders shook as Bruce placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, coaxing her to allow her emotions out. Natasha turned to the man and stood before burying her face in his chest, allowing herself to cry. She hadn’t actually cried this heavily within her memory, in fact the only times she remembered crying was when things either got to her- like when she had told Bruce she was sterile- or when she was to fool her enemies back when she was… What she was… before her Avenger life.
Sam slowly bent down and picked up the spattered note before refolding it and placing it back within the package. He threw the sealed folder onto the coffee table. Rhodey carefully took the packet in his hand and studied it absentmindedly. It was a plain brown folder with Laura's note, photographs of the scene inside a sealed plastic bag, a rather thick booklet of paperwork and something else that was oddly heavy within. Rhodey reached into the packet and grasped the object, which was within another plastic bag. Sam's brown eyes suddenly shot open as Rhodey pulled out the item.
"Wait don't-!" He was silenced by the thump of a dark-coloured, bloodied, scratched revolver hitting the table. The muzzle had a spattered ring of darkened and dried crimson blood wrapping the end of the short barrel. All six chambers were empty. Rhodey had dropped it in surprise, but now he rushedly tried to put it back in the bag after a near silent “Oh shit,”
Natasha stared at the gun in tears, watching the muzzle intently.
“No, please don’t.” She begged tearfully. Rhodey looked at her eyes, their stare begging him to leave it. As he rested the gun back down it seemed to grow slowly, the blood pooling around the barrel of the gun, overtaking the face of the table slowly, like endless, murderous syrup. Splashes echoed ravenously in her ears as they slammed into the ground, cracking the cement below. The blood didn't stop flowing, slowly filling the room. The crimson fluid fell down the stairs, flooding the lower levels first. As Natasha stood, waiting for the blood to begin rising around her she felt a hand on her shoulder. She felt that it was Bruce’s, but even he had no effect on her drowning mind. Eventually, Natasha felt a small tickle on her ankles. She looked down, seeing Laura's blood slowly rising, but quicker than before. Back to the gun her eyes fell, and now blood was gushing, gushing out of the barrel as it waterfalled to the floor, consuming everything. Steve, Bucky, Peggy and Rhodey, as well as Sam and Bruce all seemed to not notice it, or they were- like Natasha- indifferent.
Indifferent as the blood slowly crawled up her calves, Natasha allowed her tears to fall. They splashed into the wave of blood now halfway past her knee, nearing her hip and consuming her unpainted, shiny nails. She looked back to the black-sheening revolver, now floating on top of the pool. Still a fountain of warm blood sprayed, continually filling their new base. Sam and Rhodey were now up to the breast in the liquid, their heads just above the level. Natasha felt her loose shirt cling to her body as the blood came up faster, reaching the curve of the bottom of her breasts in only a few seconds.
She was indifferent as the couple on the chairs went under, small bubbles of their breath the only things confirming their existence had even occurred. Bruce beside her floated away, sending ripples of blood away from his body. The ripples brought more blood, alerting her to the level just below her soft jawline. She brought up the hand that lay limply at her side to the side of her neck, tracing her index over one of the many scars she had received during her Avenging career.
Ever since Clint had spared her from death. She pushed herself to save people, to fight for their right to survive and to live. But now, the one person who needed saving above all was dead. Natasha had secretly vowed to protect her friend's family- the three kids and Laura. But she had failed- no, in fact, she had killed herself- and Laura blamed her. Natasha sighed shakily as the blood licked her lips and passed her face. All she could smell, taste and see was the red, coppery flavour of blood. It was overwhelming, heartless and cold as Natasha felt her lungs burn in retort as the blood passed her nose and sealed her eyes shut, overtaking the top of her head and finally sealing her within a womb of her friend’s blood. Natasha felt herself suffocating as the blood hardened around her, her skin dying the same rosy colour as the liquid seeped into her, sapping every ounce of her own blood from her veins. The last thing she felt as her final breath left her was a feeling of true and accepted numbness, a feeling of peace despite the chaos.
Her eyes suddenly snapped open, and everything was back to normal. There was no blood, she wasn’t drowning, she wasn’t dying.
But still, the revolver lay on the table. Taunting her. Teasing her. Torturing her. Natasha’s imagination went wild as she imagined diving for the gun, pointing it towards her own temple and-
“Natasha?” Bruce asked quietly, breaking off her thoughts. She looked to him, her eyes threatening to cry again. Her stomach dropped and she almost threw up as his eyes looked into her sadness. He kept his distance from her, knowing she might want to be alone for a while, despite the opposite being true.
‘He’s scared.’ Her subconscious whispered coldly. ‘He’s terrified of you, and why shouldn’t he be?’ She stayed silent as the voice continued. ‘You’ve killed so many, and now you think serving liars and killers will spare your sins- your red ledger?’
She wanted the voice to stop, to leave her be, but there was a part of her that knew it was right. It was right: Bruce had reason to fear her. They all did. She was a monster, more than anyone else on the team.
'The team that doesn't need you.' She reminded herself. She was human, mortal, unskilled in comparison to her team. Gods, beasts and heroes, all defending a puny, psychotic, bloodthirsty assassin. An idiot who wholeheartedly believed that working with and for people whose body counts matched or even surpassed her own would spare her damnation.
She was very wrong.
"I-I have to go." Natasha whispered as she left abruptly. Bruce moved to follow her but was stopped as a deadly whap of thunder cracked the sky above the base. A white, strobing light flashed across the front of the building before it faded. There was silence, accompanied only by a faint knocking and indistinguishable bickering from the other side. Rhodey rose to answer, but clearly it wasn't fast enough. The doors swung open, a mix of hot white and lime green light piercing the drowning, depressing aura. Bucky shielded himself with his arm, Steve threw himself in front of Peggy, Rhodey spun to the ground and activated a small nanobot wrist-mounted SMG, pointing it at the new threat and Sam ducked behind a chair to use as cover as he pulled out a discreet nine-millimetre from the back of his jeans.
Thor and Loki stood in offensive positions before them, ready to battle. Thor had Stormbreaker at the ready, the sharp weapon shooting righteously blue lightning off of every curve. Loki stood somewhat unsteadily behind Thor, his royal golden horned helm and two silver daggers at the ready.
“What threat faces us now?” Thor shouted. Rhodey sighed and deactivated the SMG and rose to his feet. Sam put away the gun and rose as well as Thor and Loki calmed down. Thor’s lightning slowly dissipated and Loki summoned his wooden cane again, sheathing his daggers.
“Thor-” Steve attempted to begin.
“What is the emergency?” The god asked again, his weapon humming with movement towards the Captain. Steve sighed and moved to the table, but he hit the ground as two gunshots went off from behind him. Thor dove in front of Loki, assuming at least one of them was aimed for his brother. However, both shots hit the wall. In reflex, Steve took hold of the upgraded Wakandan shields and threw one to Thor, who deflected three more shots as the device expanded on his wrist.
“Oh. Thor,” Natasha sighed with a breaking voice, lowering her two guns. Her face was pale, thin tear tracks down her face. Her eyes were red, puffy and clearly sore. Thor lowered the shield slowly, peeking over the sharp point of the weapon. Natasha rested her elbows on the railing of the staircase and put her head in her hands, sighing emotionally. Bruce moved over to her, doing his best to comfort her.
“Brother, your arm.” Loki said all too casually, pointing to the grazed bullet hole Thor had received from Natasha’s deadly reflexes. Thor looked to his arm with a small glance but ignored the divet in his bicep. Instead, he approached Steve and handed the shrunken shield to him while asking,
“What’s wrong with Natasha? Is it Barton again?” Steve shook his head and took hold of the small folder on the table. He took out the most critical piece- Laura’s note- and allowed Thor to read it. He looked it over, his uncovered eye widening. He looked back up to Steve in shock who nodded slowly in response. He nodded slightly and returned the stained sheet before looking apologetically to Natasha, now being cradled with a most careful fragility by Bruce.
After a moment of silence- of which Thor used to fill Loki in- Thor slowly moved over to Natasha and Banner, resting Stormbreaker gently against the wall. Loki took a quiet seat next to Bucky, who had seated himself on the couch after the commotion. Neither of them knew Laura even existed, but they did their best to mourn with the others nonetheless. The two shared a look and a silent handshake offered by Bucky.
Natasha separated herself from Bruce as Thor approached. Thor and Banner shared a look before a brotherly hug was also shared between them. Bruce moved away as Thor stood next to the grieving redhead. She didn’t even hazard a look to him, knowing that the God’s newfound empathy would break her yet again.
“Natasha… This isn’t your fault,” He carefully began. He wasn’t allowed to finish though, because Natasha whipped out a small pocket blade and stuck it in Thor’s hefty shoulder before she took her exit down the stairs again. Thor looked at the blade sadly with a small groan before removing it and flicking it to the floor. It wasn’t meant to hurt, it was simply meant to dissuade him from following.
Loki approached his brother, resting his hand on the God of Thunder’s uninjured shoulder. Thor looked to him with a worried expression, but Loki simply responded,
“She’ll come around brother. She always does.”
One Week Later…
It had been just over a week that Laura had been pronounced officially dead by suicide; Gunshot to the right temple. The mood of the New Compound was like an overhanging blade, ready to drop and slice through the collective neck of the recovering heroes. Both Thor and Loki had remained at the New Compound, apparently awaiting a call from Queen Valkyrie to return to New Asgard, as the Guardians had decided to dock there temporarily.
Sam had since left quite abruptly, saying he had business to deal with. Rhodey had gone every other day to visit Tony in the hospital, both to talk to his unconscious friend and to deliver the horrible news about Laura. Currently, he was in the kitchen with Vision discussing current events. Wanda and Peggy were cooking within the kitchen. Vision had offered multiple times to assist in cooking, but had been kindly denied by Wanda, who joked that there was no fire alarm yet installed.
"Rahat. We don't have the cheese the recipe needs," Wanda muttered as she looked through the extensive cheese variety. "The one kind we don't have."
"I can grab you some. What kind?" Rhodey asked, standing from his seat.
"Uh..." Peggy scrolled through the cookbook with her finger. "Pepper-jack. Alternatively, we could use regular monterey, but it'd alter the taste of the entire dish.
"Sure. Back in fifteen." With that, Rhodey exited the Compound and climbed into his old, black truck and drove away.
Steve and Bucky were standing before the holographic table, doing their collective best to understand how the damn thing worked. Together they managed to pull up the blueprints of the New Compound with a little assistance from FRIDAY, and were now overlooking the electrical wiring systems. Steve sighed while running a hand through his thick, luscious beard and Bucky absentmindedly tapped his mechanical fingers rhythmically on the hard case of the table. Apparently, the old building had been retrofitted with a gigantic subterranean Arc reactor, and was entirely self-sufficient, at least in terms of electricity consumption.
Thor and Loki were attempting to spar behind the facility, but unfortunately Loki was at an obvious disadvantage, even more severe than usual. His leg was still mysteriously damaged and his limp affected his fighting. Every time, the sparring ended with Loki under Thor's boot. Currently, Thor had swung Stormbreaker a bit too hard and she was embedded within the concrete. He was fighting with his fists only, and Loki was somehow winning. He dodged a particularly strong right swing and countered with a punch to Thor's side. The God of Thunder was expecting it however, and caught his brother's arm. He twisted Loki's arm and flipped him onto the ground. Loki groaned- more in frustration than pain- as Thor placed his foot on his weakly chest. Loki coughed hoarsely before Thor helped him to his feet. He brushed himself off and summoned his axe before demanding that his brother rest. Thor turned- his blood-red cape fluttering with his movement- and returned inside, leaving Loki to his own.
Loki sighed and summoned his cane, having it reform from an umbrella with his illusionary magic. He was tired of having to use this cane, he was tired of having a limp. How did this even come to be in the first place?
A beating of wings attracted his attention from his malcontented thoughts, though he assumed it was just a low-flying bird. However, when he looked up he spotted a majestic, pearl-white winged horse descending before him, almost as if a gift to him from above- from the so-called 'Heaven' Midgardians talked of so much. On its back was an equally beautiful woman, athletic and lean yet strong and nimble. Her skin was a beautifully smooth light brown, blending inexplicably with her dark chocolate eyes and shining dark hair. She was dressed in a pristine cream-and-silver outfit with a billowing blue cloak. In a matching cloth sheath was a sharp, thin silver blade that matched its user in both grace and elegance.
Valkyrie landed in the small courtyard rimmed by chain-link, her pegasus whinnying knowingly to Loki. He approached the beautiful creature and laid his hand against its nose, calming it gently. The Queen hopped off of her animal and approached Loki, her stride angry and her fists ready to meet a surface of flesh. Loki backed up ever so as she approached, taken aback by her anger.
"What happened?" He asked rushedly, worried his absence caused some ripple in New Asgard. As his belle stood before him with their ten-inch height difference feeling less and less significant as time ticked by, she threw a quick slap to his face. He guarded against it with his cane, looking at her quizzically. She usually only tried to hit him when she was frustrated with him particularly.
"What happened?" She parotted, her look of rage shifting to one of simultaneous worry and relief. She suddenly grabbed Loki's collar and pulled him into a relieved kiss. It lasted for only seconds, yet any embrace with her felt like thousands of them to him. She parted, but stayed close, staring intently. Behind her eyes, Loki could see, a dark cloud of lust formed.
She dove in again, grabbing his collar and dragging him to her horse, pinning him against the soft, feathery wings. She bit his bottom lip, taunting him. With a quick move, Loki flipped bis Queen over and resumed, sliding his tongue up and down her neck to just under her round jawline. He found purchase on her jugular when a gentle bite earned a stifled, desperate moan. Valkyrie quickly escaped his grasp, her chest heaving and face flushed. The Queen looked away from his confident smile before she continued,
"You haven't come back, that's what happened! I've been summoning you for three days! I've been… worried." Loki's look shifted from confident arousal to one of confused shock and shook his head. He had received no messages nor any contact from New Asgard since he had reached the New Compound thanks to Stormbreaker's Bifrost-summoning powers.
"My love, I've received no correspondence from our home," He responded, retaking a steady hold on his strong cane. His queen returned a look of confusion. "That's impossible, I've sent three separate warriors to gather you and Thor. They all returned and said they couldn't find you! Have you been here since you left?" She asked, dangerously serious. Though, it was hard for him to be intimidated when she licked her lips with a flick of her tongue, desiring another, deeper kiss.
"On my life," He responded calmly, warding off his romantic thoughts- for now. "What warriors did you send?" He asked.
"That doesn't matter. What matters now is that you and Thor return immediately to Asga-" There was a sharp plunk, almost like an air-pop gun, followed quickly by sharp, short hs. Valkyrie's eyes dilated and rolled into the back of her head before she toppled over onto Loki. A small, wooden dart with a clear plastic window and brown feathers stuck out of his Queen's neck. Inside the dart was a lime-green liquid quickly draining into Valkyrie's neck. Loki quickly pulled it out and threw it to the ground, shattering the plastic screen. He allowed his cane to fall to the ground and scooped his lover up, ignoring his leg screaming in retortion. Gently, he shook her body.
"Valah?" His pet name for her- which usually was used tauntingly to earn himself a gracious smile under a poor scowl- was instead used in paranoia. She didn't move, she didn't smile, nothing. "Valkyrie!" He shouted. Again, nothing. He steeled himself before limping at a quick pace towards the front of the Compound, and when he reached the front he dashed to the door of the Compound and threw it open.
"Banner! Banner, help!" He shouted panickedly, his leg yelling almost louder than him.
Downstairs
Thor knocked on the door Banner had said was Natasha's, waiting patiently for a response. When none came, he knocked again. This time, she did respond, though not in the manner he had wanted, yet unfortunately had expected.
"Leave me alone," Her voice was hoarse and rough, a bit more emotional than usual. He heard her clear her throat, but no other words came. He swallowed his fear and told her back,
"It's um, It's Thor, Nat. Can I… Can I come in?" Again, silence. But, after a moment of dejection, the sound of her door's lock clicking open told him to let himself in. Slowly, he opened the door and peeked in her room.
The sight was downright depressing.
Natasha herself was pale, almost cold-looking, even though she was under a white comforter. Her hair had lost its flaming luster and burning tenacity, now a faded orange. She was thinner than usual, not having eaten much at all the whole week. Even from his vantage, Thor could see her cheekbones more prominently than he remembered or liked to remember. She was shivering, even under her blanket. But, it wasn’t just the woman herself that made the sight so pitiful.
Her white pillow was greyed under her face from a week's worth of crying, and the two mirrors on her small desk in the corner were shattered, small droplets of days old dried blood dotting the wood surface. A drawer on the corner was hanging open, a pair of bloody tweezers, countless bloody cotton balls, a bottle of medical disinfectant and a wrap of slightly blood-stained bandage fell near the front, easily accessible. A shallow tin full of fine, bloody shards of crystalline glass sat under the tweezers.
He knew what happened.
"You saw her didn't you? In the mirror?" He asked, stepping into the room and quietly closing the door behind him.
When no reaction part a deep, shaky, cry-suppressing sigh came from her he decided to continue. “I know how it feels, to think that you killed your friend when-”
“You have no goddamn idea how it feels. I know you’re trying to help, but you just can’t understand. These are mortal problems, Thor!” She responded callously, perhaps more harsh than she meant to be. She wanted someone else to understand, more than anything else, but her anger was making her irrational, mean…
Murderous, just like she was before.
Despite her rage, Thor managed to stay calm. “Actually, I do understand. I may have a longer life span, but one day, I will die. Like my father, and his father, and his father before him; I am mortal. And yes, I know what it’s like to be blamed for the deaths of loved ones. Loki- more than once- my father, even-” His breath suddenly caught itself. Thor steeled himself and looked away. He carefully approached Natasha and took a gentle seat on her bed. After a moment, he continued,
“I had four grand friends on Asgard, and my sister- Hela- killed all of them. But, really… I did,” Natasha turned and glared at Thor with a piercingly enraged look, but allowed him to continue, “They were… Good people, and they died because I was too weak, because I was too arrogant.” Thor’s voice cracked, tears welling in his eye. Natasha’s anger slowly faded as the god started cracking, She looked away as well, not allowing him to see her new tears as she thought of Laura yet again. She brought her left hand from underneath her cover, seeing her knuckles wrapped professionally in bandages and cotton, some red still bleeding through her defenses.
“So yes, I know how you feel. But, Laura isn’t your fault, Natasha," He turned back to her, and put a steady hand on her pale shoulder. "We all only have so long to live- even I- and you can't spend it on survivor's guilt. I did, and now…" He trailed off, tempting Natasha to look at him. She rolled over in place, looking Thor up and down.
His belly was round, his hair and beard were both long and scruffy, his previous godlike muscle was gone. Yet, underneath he was still Thor, still the God of Thunder, still an Avenger, still a hero.
Unlike her, though, Thor had always been a hero. Always a Prince of Asgard, willing to fight and die for his people, even if the move he took to do so was the wrong one. She, on the other hand, was never a hero. Always a villain bent on bloodlusting murder and sharp-edged cruelty, laser-focused on bringing pain and death. She was a lump of cold-blooded assassin clay in the shape of a hero, however many unnatural bends and twists it took to form it. He, on the other hand, was like a fine sculpture erected in an even finer museum, molded out of the very finest clay and shaped with the sharpest of tools, every bend and curve completely perfect, natural and heroic, even in his current form.
"What were their names?" She found herself asking. Maybe a distraction would help keep the voice away. She had tried all week to find distraction; Games, cleaning, reorganization, sleep, sex- nothing had worked. Thor sighed heavily, but nodded understandingly.
"Um… Fandral, one of Asgard's finest swordsmen, he- he, um… He was far too polite for a warrior of his strength. Strong, charming, a will of iron. Famous with the ladies. Then there was Volstagg, a man who's large heart could only be beaten by his stomach. Jovial, he was, right up until his death. And of course, Hogun. Hogun was all business, always serious- Hogun the Grim we called him. But a good man, Heimdall told me of his brave offensive against Hela- my sister. Valiant, all right until their last breath," Thor finished, choking back a sob in memory of his great friends.
Natasha, however, recalled Thor's previous words.
"You said there were four."
Thor looked at her, mildly shocked. He steeled himself and nodded. "Yeah, there was… Uh… Lady S… Sif. Her name was Sif," He was clearly struggling, even with just the memory he was in pain. "She… Well, Heimdall just said that she was on Asgard when it… Uh, when I blew it up. She didn't make it, and she…" Thor choked on the word, coughing into his arm. But Natasha got the blatant hint. "I guess Heimdall didn't tell me because I would have gone for her, even if it killed me, even if it killed all of Asgard. Because he knew. He knew that I… Uh, that I…" He wasn't able to finish.
"He knew you liked her," She replied evenly. Even she was mildly shocked at how calm she was, given her circumstances of the past week.
'It's because you have no heart,' The voice hissed.
"Liked?" He scoffed sadly. "That's one way of saying it. She… Liked me, ever since were were children sparring with old branches, but I always thought it was just a childhood crush, you know? But, it stayed with her for all her life. And then Jane came along and she… Well, Sif endured the heartbreak and I think- if we had just had a little more time- we could have-" He stopped himself before he got too far. "But, instead, I killed her- I killed them all. I didn't even get to say good-bye, or tell Sif that I really did- really do, still lov-"
Thor was cut off by his brother yelling from the level above. "Banner! Banner, help!" He was distressed, clearly, but why was Bruce needed?
"Loki?" Thor got up to leave, but when he halfway out the door he stopped and turned back to Natasha. "It will get better eventually, I promise. You need to stand tall, look your demon in the eyes and tell it to go to Hel. Tell it you’re in control. We’re all here for you, Nat." He stated as he opened his hand. Stormbreaker came rocketing and the God was off to help his brother. "Loki!"
Natasha remained alone, alone to her thoughts. Thor's words were surprisingly helpful, even if they weren't an instant fix. She swallowed her sense of drowning paranoia as well as the newfound and passionately uncomfortable sense of mortal existentialism and followed Thor, ready to do anything to keep her mind off of Laura.
'You're stalling the inevitable,' The voice whispered coldly.
Natasha pulled together everyone's words- Thor, Sam, Steve, Rhodey and Bruce's- to repel her demon. She wiped her eyes with her hand and clenched her fists before steadily saying,
"Fuck off." She stated, with a clear tone of finality. She held her head high as she exited her room and followed Thor up the stairs to the commotion.
She felt a wave of power surge through her hair as it reignited, flaming orange once again.
Upstairs
Loki stood, his caramel-skinned queen still unconscious from the dart, his leg screaming in dull, throbbing, near unbearable pain had it not been for the adrenaline. Bruce rushed over from the small kitchen, Vision hurrying beside him. Wanda and Peggy abandoned their nearly finished dinner cooking by turning off the stove while Steve and Bucky came from the table, of which now had an examination of the blueprints for the old Stark Tower in New York. Immediately, Bruce concerned himself with Valkyrie's fainted form.
"What the Hell happened?"
"She was hit with a dart, I don't know from where," Loki responded, his accent amplifying his panic. Vision plucked the dart out of the Queen's neck and analysed it quickly, his steel-blue eyes glowing yellow and spinning quickly as he worked. Wanda watched with almost childlike wonder as he worked.
"It appears to have contained a powerful sedative, though I'm not quite sure one of any Earthly origins could neutralize an Aesir with such a small dosage." He phased his fingers through the dart and collected a small sample. Again, his eyes glowed and spun, before resulting in, "I can isolate a very powerful tranquilizer- one that will easily incapacitate a large animal, say a moose or bear, but there's a certain enhancement that I cannot quantify. Surely the additive increased the effectivity, as the tranquilizer alone could not fully neutralize Miss Valkyrie. Perhaps something akin to severe intoxication but-"
"What does that mean?" Loki looked to Banner worriedly. Thor suddenly came up the stairs and straight to Loki. He looked to Valkyrie's incapacitated form silently before looking back to his brother.
"It means that she's just knocked out, but I don't know much else. I- I need more data before I can…" He trailed off, his mind lighting up. "I got it. Tony's lab had a bio-organics section he designed for me. He specifically had a full-body scanner built in to help check my gamma levels," Vision nodded in understanding, but everyone else looked on in confusion. It was then Natasha emerged from the staircase, her eyes hard-set with a new steely determination.
"What does that mean?" Wanda asked, all the science-techno talk going so far over hear head she couldn't even see it. Vision gave her a small smile, opening his mouth to give her a real answer before,
"It means we have to haul ass to Stark's lab, Red." Steve nodded to Natasha quietly while Wanda smiled at Natasha’s new gaze. Rogers took hold of the improved Wakandan shields and slipped them on, then he began the move out to the Quinjet, followed by Wanda, Peggy, Bucky, a slightly embarrassed Vision and a limping Loki, who was still cradling Valkyrie's limp form, her cobalt-shaded cape nearly drifting along the ground. Bruce, Natasha and Thor still remained within the Facility.
"Are you sure you're up for this, Nat?" Bruce asked, bringing her close to him. Thor stood with Stormbreaker in hand, watching the couple. Natasha squirmed into a hug, facing towards Thor.
"No. But I know I don't wanna be alone, and I know that I want to be with you, Bruce. I go where you go," She mouthed to Thor, 'He went to Hel,' The God nodded surely and gave her a thumbs-up. He knew her recovery would take so much longer and so much more effort than that, but it was a sure start.
Bruce and Natasha separated, and Bruce stayed behind when Steve called Natasha to help piloting. Thor and Banner shared a look as Natasha took off towards the jet.
"Thank you, Thor." Bruce said. Thor looked to him earnestly and nodded. He turned back to Natasha, just seeing her exit the New Compound with a look over her shoulder to the two of them and a "Come on, boys,"
"Of course, Banner," Thor responded nonchalantly. "Anything to help Nat through this. You're a lucky man, you know,” He snickered before continuing. “Not many can say they've been bitten by a Black Widow and live to tell it,"
"What?" Bruce asked quickly. With no words, Thor simply pointed to a dull set of reddened teeth marks creeping out from under the neckline of his shirt Natasha had set last night. The God laughed heartily and started towards the ship. Bruce felt his face grow hot, wondering how many of the others had seen the bite.
But then it hit him.
That should have healed by now. Bruce stood for a few moments, contemplating the question of why the marks were still present, when he suddenly felt a warm pair of hands grab his own. He looked up to Natasha, who were a temporary smile.
"Let's go, before I give you another set. God knows I want to..." She whispered in a low, haughty tone that made Banner's face grow ever hotter. The redhead and the scientist exited the building and entered the jet, which floated off the ground before soaring to the coordinates of Tony's currently unused lab.
Five minutes later, Rhodey pulled up to the compound and entered with a plastic package. He walked in and shouted,
"Hey Wanda, Peggy, I got the cheese you said you need-" He then stopped and stood still for a moment. Slowly, he exited and stared at the place the Quinjet once stood. He then realized they left for somewhere without him.
"Oh, Hell no."
Stark's Lab
Bruce entered the lab's tight hallway first, followed by Steve, Natasha, Wanda and Peggy. Loki remained in the center with his brother, who was now gently carrying the still incapacitated Valkyrie with Bucky guarding them from behind. The God of Mischief had Valkyrie's small hand clutched within his own. Vision levitated above the ground, casting a bright light down upon the darkened facility from his eyes. Steve checked his watch quickly, revealing the time to be a little past nine PM.
"Bit late for dinner," He whispered to himself. Peggy smiled slyly from beside him, carrying a small derringer revolver in her lithe fingers. However, the two were interrupted when Vision's light struck a particularly shiny piece of equipment. Two voices rapidly began hushing each other and giggling, almost like two giddy school children. There was a sound of zippers, leather shifting, pneumatics hissing and metal clanking before dead silence. Steve quietly initiated the two diamond-shaped shields, holding them in front of himself. He turned back and signalled to his team to be silent before he moved forward slowly. He jumped at the sudden sound of insect wings flitting past him, as did Peggy and Bruce.
They all turned and jumped, however, when a heavy metal clang echoed from outside the lab. Duller clangs were heard as the doors of the Stark Center were opened. They became louder and louder, getting closer and closer, heavier and heavier. Peggy pointed her gun down the thin hallway in preparation to shoot.
An updated version of Tony's Iron Legion Protocol roboticized suits from 2015 stepped into view at the end of the hall, illuminated by Vision. It was a dull, matte light grey with blue lines of paint and the number '003' painted on the chest. The bot raised its right hand and the high-pitched whir of the repulsor embedded within shot out. The bot spoke with an even, mechanized voice.
"Intruder alert. Please leave the premises immediately. Captain Steven Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Sergeant James Barnes; you are all under arrest for the violation of the Sokovia Accords. If you all come quietly, your sentences will be far more lenient," The bot warned. Natasha pushed the hammer of her gun down, Wanda readied her powers and Bucky tightened his robotic fist, but Cap waved them down with but a hand.
"Current date?" Steve asked simply. The bot's eyes shifted and readjusted behind the mask before it answered,
"December sixteenth, two-thousand-seventeen," Suddenly, there was an even heavier clang outside the lab. The automatized suit turned as well, with only slightly quieter sounds following. They became closer, and as the other bot came into view, the first lowered its hand.
"I require assistance apprehending these crim-" The other suit suddenly jumped onto the first, wrapping its legs around the midsection. As the two came into Vision's light, the second suit revealed itself to be Rhodey, equipped in an old version of his heavy War Machine armour. The minigun on the left shoulder had clearly been replaced, and the light grey mask had a large, dark, faint stain from what could only have been ancient oil.
The newer-model minigun on his shoulder suddenly opened fire upon the bot's face. The piercing sound of thick gunfire bounced off of the enclosed wall painfully as fresh brown-black shiny oil splattered everywhere. Sharp metal fragments fell to the ground alongside complicated robotics and pieces of machinery. Rhodey released the now dead robot from his grip and began hovering, the older technology roaring in comparison to the updated repulsor tech. Rhodey slammed down on the ground, cracking the strong tile beneath him.
"You guys fu-" A silver disc with three sharp prongs and a red, glowing light whizzed past and hit Rhodey's suit, and he suddenly disappeared in the middle of his comment. There was a moment of silence, and Rhodey didn't respond or reappear.
"Rhodey?" Steve called. Vision suddenly left the group, leaving them all in unilluminated darkness. His light shone down upon a very small figure as he picked it up. Rhodey was now about the size of a pencil eraser.
"What the hell-" Steve's thought was interrupted by a hard punch against the back of his head. Within a quick second the Captain whirled around and swung the now full-size shield on his left wrist.
Nothing was there.
Natasha was suddenly flipped onto her back, but again; nothing was there. Steve watched as Natasha's arm was pinned behind her back and held by some odd force, leaving her unable to even move it. She shot one of the charges from her wrist-mounted 'Widow's Bite' but the electric taser just flew and hit the wall, fizzling out.
"What the Hell is going on?" Bucky shouted as he put his back to the wall. Whatever was attacking them, it knew how to fight, and Steve could tell from the fading throbbing on the back of his head, they knew how to punch.
Meanwhile…
"Hope!" Scott cried as Hope pinned one of the thugs' arms behind their back, using her new 'Wasp's Grapple' to keep it there. She nearly dodged a taser bolt fired from the wrist as her wings sprouted from her back and began flittering. For some reason, that move felt familiar to Scott, but he didn’t know why.
"What the Hell is going on?" Another shouted. So far, from his miniscule stature, Scott counted nine of them: six male and three female. Hope had just pinned one of the females to the ground, but with how agile and nimble the thug seemed it definitely would not be for long. One of the other thugs- it somewhat looked like one of the women, but it was too dark to tell- suddenly shot the ground with a revolver, sending shards and grains of tile flying up. Hope very nearly dodged one and blew up another with a blast of super-compressed air from the ‘Stinger’ on her wrist.
“Scott, get the one on the wall!” Hope shouted, going to attack what seemed to be the leader. Scott signalled for one from their army of ants to assist him. His loyal flying ant for the last few weeks- who he named ‘Ant-oinette’- quickly fluttered down beside him. Scott mounted her small saddle and flew up to the large, very muscular male thug who pinned himself against the wall. He approached from the right side- at least, he thought so, it was incredibly dark, and he couldn’t make out details.
It was then that the Iron Legion bot he had shrunk with the Pym Particle disc earlier tackled him off of Ant-oinette, but of course that wasn’t enough. The machine took aim at the helpless creature he had been riding on and opened fire, killing her in seconds. Hope gasped as Ant-oinette’s guts- as well as Scott’s cries- flew past her. She turned to Scott only to see him ready his gauntlet to grow large, irrationally preparing himself to avenge Ant-oinette.
“Scott, wait!” She cried, yet it fell on deaf ears. Scott enlarged himself and kicked the small bot to the wall, cracking the white-painted surface and sending the machine into the insulation underneath with a puff of pink cotton-like fluff.
All of a sudden, a bright light shone down upon Scott’s enlarged form. It felt just like when he got arrested after returning the Ant-Man, and now it felt like he was going to be prosecuted. The memory kept him in place, but he readied his fists to fight. He couldn’t see past the light, but he knew that twenty eyes were on him. His eyes were hidden by the helm of his suit, but the suit itself was recognizable enough on it's own.
“Scott?” He recognized that voice. The voice of a leader. The voice of a hero- the voice of his hero. The voice of…
“Captain America?” He asked. The light ahead of him shifted, indeed revealing Captain America, dressed in casual wear- a white shirt under a leather jacket and brown jeans with powerful boots. His hands were hidden by tall diamond-shaped black sheets of metal, with ornate silver lines decorating the surfaces. Behind him was Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff- who he recognized all too quickly as ‘the girl with the shock collar’ from his time at the Raft after the Leipzig incident- and Thor, as well as Bucky Barnes, who was currently pressed against the wall and Natasha Romanoff, who was the one Hope had pinned on the floor. Thor had a hand cast before his brother, Loki, and had a light-brown skinned unconscious woman in his other arm. His axe, Stormbreaker, was attached to his back under his cape.
There was, however, another new girl who he didn’t recognize at all; She was just a little taller than Natasha, with nut-brown hair and eyes matching. She carried a small, double-barrelled derringer revolver, still leaking a thin stream of silver smoke from her shot. She was lithe and athletic, with an almond shaped faced that was as straight-laced and serious as the Captain's.
"What?" Hope asked, growing large just behind Scott. Her pointed mask receded into its half-ring around the back of her neck as she stared at the casually dressed Avengers. Even Natasha had managed to worm herself to stand behind Thor, her arm still tied to her back. "Oh, sorry about that," Hope mumbled. She flicked a small control on a panel that controlled the grapple. The four small hooks at either end of the rope released and allowed Natasha her arm back. She flexed her fingers and nodded a sarcastic thanks.
"Wait, if you guys are here, then who-" Scott suddenly recoiled to the side and shrunk down, disappearing from sight. A small explosion came from Hope's waist, specifically a glowing circle in the center of her belt- her regulator. She pressed the button on her right glove, but nothing happened. She pressed it again, and again and then rapidly. Nothing.
"Shit!" She twisted open her sparking regulator and toyed with a few wires. "No! The wires are completely fried! Scott! The regulator’s broken!” She fell to her knees, searching for Scott. She was nearly hit with the Iron Legion bot, but she managed to catch it.
“You little bastard!” She shouted, curling her hand around it securely. Scott suddenly appeared beside her, the left lens on his helmet cracked with a small shard missing. He was panicking, trying to hit the retracting button on the side of the helmet.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit! Hope!” He cried, hitting a different button out of desperation. There was a hiss, and he pulled the helmet off entirely. He looked at the broken plastic in fear. Hope struggled to contain the tiny bot, when suddenly Steve stopped her.
“That’s not a bot, Hope! Take the disc off!” She looked at him unsurely before reluctantly and hesitantly flicking the disc off of the arm of the tiny robot. The figure grew instantly, hovering above Scott and Hope’s crouched forms. Rhodey put himself between Scott and Hope and the rest of the Avengers, activated every active weapon system within the War Machine suit; a right-wrist-mounted SMG, a left-wrist-mounted rocket launcher, the shoulder minigun, a small mortar loaded with fifteen projectiles- three across and five down- in the left shoulder, a large missile about as wide as Hope’s arm from the right, two large belt-loaded machine guns from a compartment in either leg and a small laser from between the suits’ eyes to signify where the armaments were aimed.
The dot fell right on Hope’s heart.
Hope felt her blood run cold and her throat lose all water when the mouth of the minigun looked her directly in the eyes. She instinctively clicked the button on her right glove, but all she received was a dull buzz and a fizz of sparks from her regulator, telling her there weren’t enough Pym Particles to shrink down. This was the first time in her life she had looked down the barrel of a gun without a way to escape and she was scared. Rhodey was irrational, angry, ready to kill, as proved by the leaking bot down the hall and Ant-oinette.
Rhodey hovered for what felt like hours before he asked, “Okay, so two questions for the two of you. One; what the Hell? And two; what- in the Hell- are you two even doing here?” He asked, Hope sitting completely still as the dot hovered over her chest while Scott's brain was working overtime trying to figure out the best move to both not die and keep Hope safe. But if it came to it, he would prioritize the latter.. When neither Hope nor Scott responded, Rhodey added, “You both got five seconds,” And almost impossibly fast, came beside Hope and aimed his left arm at her right temple. "Or Buzzy dies." He used the weapon to hit the same button Scott had during his panic, loosening Hope's helmet. He then smacked it off, revealing Hope's teary face.
Cap argued in rebuttal but only received the wrist-mounted gun pointed towards him and the rest of the group. Easily, they could overpower Rhodey with minimal casualties but the message was clear.
“Okay, okay, we came here to make more Pym particles, we’re running out! Hank gave us the formula to get us out for a while and he said he moved all the tech here!” Scott shouted, throwing every subtle, sneaky idea out the window and pushing Rhodey, putting himself between him and Hope. In his hand was a black security card with white text- illuminated still thanks to Vision’s light- that read ‘STARK’, the same as the one Steve had in his back pocket. Reflexively, Rogers checked his back pocket and found that his card was indeed still there.
“Then why- again, in the Hell- did you attack?” Rhodey shouted, his weapons clicking as they became live. Scott and Hope both panicked further as the high whirring of the spinning missile in Rhodey’s right shoulder ground their nerves. Hope was scared silent, but her eyes shot open further behind Scott. She was frozen to the spot, but had she Particles to fight with, she would shrink down and punch Rhodey right in the face, making sure she penetrated the armour. But as it was, she just had to hope her lover kept his cool.
“Because when we threw the light out and couldn’t see shit we heard gunfire! So yeah, no shit we’re gonna attack!” Scott shouted in anger. Hope had tears of fear edging her eyes, scared that too much loss of control on Scott's part would cost him his life. Even when Rhodey moved closer, Scott still stood between his lover and The War Machine, the laser piercing his chest. The weapons weren’t going down, but neither was he.
“Okay, look. I used the rest of my particles in the fight,” Scott brought his right hand in front of him and pressed the button, the only response a quiet, low buzz. Nothing.
“See?” He whispered, putting his arms down. Rhodey stayed still for a minute, keeping Hope and Scott on the harsh, cold edge of existential paranoia. Hope was shaking in fear, now more worried for her lover than herself. Rhodey's minigun was still forever, and the entire time Hope couldn’t bring herself to speak, only releasing a dry puff of air when Scott looked to her. Scott returned his gaze to the minigun, awaiting a movement, a twitch, something to signify his fate.
But what he surely didn't expect was it to begin spinning and suddenly belt out bullets. Orange flickers lit the hall and the roar of the old rockets was deafened as the supersonic metal projectiles tore through the fabric of the Ant-Man suit, sending spatters of blood from the entry wounds. Scott's placement fulfilled his goal; only a few bullets made it through him, and none of them hit Hope. She felt her heart die nonetheless as Scott's blood painted her face. She watched in silent horror as Rhodey's minigun slowed to a stop, the six inner barrels sending out streams of smoke. Scott's fading body fell back, his head falling into her lap. Drops hit his dying forehead as Hope cried silently. Scott's jade eyes begged her to not die, to let him live, to give him a second chance. But, powerĺessly, Hope watched as all the light died behind his eyes. He breathed one last time before he fell utterly still and silent. Hope swore she heard an ominous bell tolling Scott's death, drowning out her cries.
Hope's living nightmare was shattered when the silence of the roaring rockets sharply ended and Rhodey suddenly slammed onto the ground and retracted all of his weapons, closed the doors of his shoulder compartments and allowed the shoulder-mounted minigun to fall into its neutral position, pointed skyward. The machine guns clicked as they folded into themselves before they folded back into Rhodey’s legs and the laser disengaged, allowing Scott to breathe again. He was whole, still standing and perfectly fine.
“Cool. Maybe say ‘hello’ before trying to kill everybody next time." The mask of the old suit altered Rhodey’s voice to sound even more menacing than usual. He turned towards the entry of the lab a few metres ahead and walked ahead of the others..
Scott helped Hope over to the side of the tight hall, allowing the others to pass. Natasha warranted a somewhat empathetic look to Hope before quickly moving on. Only Scott stayed behind with her. She stared straight ahead at the blank wall, still shaking from the tension. Scott could tell, the sound of those weapons arming would be something that Hope would unfortunately never forget. He was shaken, but after three years in San Quentin and a month in The Raft, he wasn’t so easily broken.
But Hope, even though she was certainly tough, she had never seen down the barrel of a gun without a way to escape. Even as the Wasp, she always had her instincts and the Pym Particles to save her.
“Hope? Hope, look at me. You’re okay, you’re good,” He assured, taking hold of her face with both of his hands. She looked at him, shaking, her dark olive eyes tinted with tears. She gingerly wrapped her arms around Scott's midsection, searching for her imaginary bullet holes she had watched open. She looked up to Scott and threw herself forward onto him, placing her hips on his. Her knees made contact with the tile as she grabbed Scott's shoulders and crushed her lips against his. Her tears rolled down her face onto his as he grabbed the back of her head.
A few long, hot moments later, when her lungs began burning, she separated with a quiet smick. Scott stared at her, his colourful green eyes glowing as they widened. Hope's chest rose and fell at the same pace as his, synchronized and even. He brought up his hand and wiped her tears away with a finger before lovingly placing his hand on her cheek. She laughed shakily as he leaned up into a softer, more conservative kiss.
“You’re okay, Hope.”
To Be Continued...