Iron Beta 3: What to do When your World Explodes

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next morning, the first thing I hear is a bang.

My instincts wake up before my brain, and I grab the pistol under my pillow and point it at the bedroom door. And my brain jump starts as I blink the sleep out of my eyes and realize I've got a gun trained on the blue light of an arc reactor — my dad. I click the safety back on and set the gun on the nightstand as I rub my eyes and look around the room.

Natasha is somehow fully awake and alert, standing next to her air mattress at the foot of the twin beds and just lowering her pistol to set it on the foot of Darcy's bed. Darcy is in that zombie-like state between awake and asleep, her half-lidded eyes fluttering as she drops her tazer.

"Uh, sorry. I just wanted you to know that Clint, Steve, and Bruce are making breakfast downstairs. Blame Clint, he told me to come wake you up." my dad mumbles before spinning on his heel and racing back towards the stairs.

I yawn as I untangle myself from the sheets, trotting over to my bag and looking for some clothes. Darcy murmurs something unintelligible and falls, face first, back onto her pillow. Natasha is moving around the room like she's been up for hours, not minutes, though she is just a bit slower and her normally pristine hair is a mess.

I finally pull out an old tank top, some worn out jeans, and a purple sweatshirt with an arrow pierced heart on the front and 'Hawkeye' in big block letters, sports jersey style, on the back. It's not mine, technically, but Clint let me borrow it a few months ago and he hasn't asked for it back. I don't think he will anytime soon, I'm pretty sure he likes me wearing it.

I grab the clothes and head out of the room to the small bathroom down the hall, quickly changing clothes. I make sure my hair is not a complete rat's nest — not that anyone cares otherwise — and banish my morning breath before jogging downstairs towards the sound of people.

I follow the laughter to the main kitchen area, padding quietly out and leaning on the doorframe to observe and wait until someone sees me. Clint spins around with a box of cereal in one hand and a skillet with eggs in the other about a minute later and smiles, causing everybody else to notice me, Betty beckoning me to sit next to her at the dining room table. I smile at the biologist in a Culver university hoodie and accept the coffee she pushes my way.

I wince as I sip the coffee — cheap and watery, but we can't exactly make a milk run to the store right now, not with at least one government branch putting a price on our heads. "What do we have in terms of breakfast?"

"Clint is scavenging eggs, Bruce is on sausage duty, and Steve got stuck organizing cereal. I think Thor found some pop tarts, though." Betty replies quietly, her voice still edged with sleep.

I nod. "Leave it to Thor to find the pop tarts even when our lives hang in the balance."

Betty smiles slightly, her eyes darkening a fraction at the reminder of our fugitive status.

I cringe at my words, and I open my mouth to correct myself somehow, but Betty just smiles and pats me on the shoulder with a look that says she forgives me. I breathe a sigh of relief as I get up to gather my breakfast, kissing my boyfriend on the check as I pass him on my way to the cereal. I pick up a generic corn flake brand and douse it with a generous amount of milk and shoving a spoon in the bowl as I make my way back to the table.

Natasha and Darcy soon join us, Darcy still in her sweatpants and an old t-shirt, Natasha fully dressed and with a gun at her hip. Next is Jane, her eyes still semi-bleary and her fiery hair in a messy bun.

Once we're all awake and fed, we migrate slowly over to the couches. I'm sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning against my dad's legs, watching Bruce slowly flick through static-filled channel after channel, when Natasha slides a black tote towards me. "Here. I thought you might want to put this together."

I peek into the bag and a grin lights up my face as I recognize a pile of black metal parts. I gently dump the parts on the rug, letting my hands fly over my new puzzle as I tune out the room.

A~A~A

"-swarming around Stark Tower."

I look up sharply from where I'm screwing on the barrel onto my almost finished rifle. The room is silent, everybody has their eyes focused fully on the grainy T.V. screen depicting a familiar building in New York.

"Government officials arrived on scene yesterday, stating that they were there to see Mr. and Ms. Stark for matters regarding the newest Stark project. The tower, however, was deserted — the Starks as well as the rest of the Avengers were nowhere to be found. Did something happen? Is the government involved? Will we ever see our beloved heroes again? If you have seen or heard anything regarding this matter, please call NYPD at 555-678-9101."

Someone pauses the T.V. at an overhead shot of the tower, a crowd of suited men and women creating a ring around the base level. The lobby doors are held wide open, agents pouring in and out constantly.

I inhale deeply as I watch my home being overtaken by the last people I wanted to do so. Everyone in the room is wide awake now, emotion making the air almost hum with everything from anger to worry to fear. I clamp my mouth shut as I exhale through my nose, anger at S.H.I.E.L.D. being smothered by worry. If they know we're not home, they also know we ran. They are probably hunting us as we watched this, fully prepared to drag us all into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody kicking and screaming and bloody if need be.

Steve is the first to clear his throat, making everyone but Clint and Natasha jump a foot in the air. "Well, they found where we aren't. Now we have to be prepared for them to find where we are."

I glance down at the rifle I had been building as Steve begins to pace. "Clint, Natasha, is there any way to get eyes inside of S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Steve asks.

Clint and Natasha tilt their heads with thoughtful looks on their faces. "Well," Natasha starts hesitantly, "I think there are a few people who would help. What about May-"

"No, she had been acting weird when we left."

"Okay. Hill?"

"No, too close to Fury."

"Oh right, yeah, stupid idea. Um..."

"Stillwell?"

Natasha looks pensive as she considers this. "Well, according to the legal paperwork, he was our handler when we left, so maybe he'll help us out...yeah. I'll give him a call."

"Steve, we have our eyes inside. Jasper Stillwell."

Steve nods at Clint." Good. Now we can be kept up to date on positions, locations, and traces. Keep you guards up, people."

And on that happy note, we a settle down to watch a movie that's coming on. I sigh and return to my rifle.

I'm going to need it sooner than I thought.

A/N

Please do not call the number I put above. It is fake.

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