Chapter 6: Small Dick Energy

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Warning: More swearing than usual. And I don't know why??? Like?? My potty mouth today?? Anyway, soz, please continue.


Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.


The clock above us is patient, takes its time with its obnoxiously loud ticking and tocking. The ring finger of my right hand, however, is not so laggard, tapping restlessly against the metal table top separating my long time best friend Allison Renegade and I.

After coming face to face with the blonde ghost of my past in the midst of a mission, we collectively decided that the battlefield is, perhaps, not the best place to catch up on old times. It didn't take Tony long to infiltrate the base and locate the sceptre, however, being so struck and dumbfounded over the reappearance of someone whom I thought was living a fairly normal life now that I am no longer in the picture, I almost missed the shaken, guarded expression of the billionaire once he returned to the ship. Tony definitely saw something, what, I'm not sure, but add that to the growing list of things I need to sort out and interrogate people over.

Back in Braga, way back when we first encountered the Muffinmax twins, we didn't know Jack about them. After today's fairly successful mission however, I'm starting to get a better idea. With abilities born from an infinity stone, it's no wonder they aren't to be trifled with; Steve even said Wanda threw him down the stairs when he confronted Strucker earlier on.

Another reason to break the bitch's nose.

Sure, my heart goes out to them in a way – they're from a war torn country, riots and revolutions abound at every corner, lost their family to a bomb shell – but shitty circumstances and a shitty past doesn't excuse shitty behaviour whatsoever. I should know, I am competing for the title of Shittiest and Most Traumatic Childhood™ with Nat after all. Almost every good hero I know has had it rough, but look at them now, they're heroes, not criminals. If you want to be bad, be bad, but don't hide behind a past littered with nightmares and trauma and expect your actions to be excused as a result.

Anyway, the ride back was frankly awkward as hell. Ally and I just stared at each other, wanting to wait for a moment in private to discuss the whole situation, the others equally as awkwardly greeted her after a minute of scepticism, before realising that there's no reason she would be dead in this new timeline-universe because she didn't have me to drag her into this HYDRA shit (no, she just went and did that on her own, dumbass).

Bruce and her had the most uncomfortable chat in the world, Bruce genuinely happy to see she's well, but not knowing how to react to seeing what she's like now, and it's clear to me that Ally has long since outgrown her youthful infatuation with him. I've barely spoken to her and already I can see how different she is; she used to be the brightest ray of sunshine, capable of blinding others with her smile, and now a blanket of thick, dark clouds shrouds it, where you know the sun exists behind it all, but don't see the clouds clearing up anytime soon.

On top of all that awkwardness, Speedy Gonzales spent half the trip tied up vexingly poking and prodding at any hero that came into range, mouth running faster than he ever could. After an hour of it, I had quite enough, and slammed my mask over his mouth, letting the device attach itself to his face and turn the sound off, rendering him entirely silent thank father.

Which, I suppose, brings us to now; back at Avengers Tower, Ally and I sat across from one another, coffees in hand courtesy of one Anthony Edward Stark, with no sound between us aside from the obnoxious clock and my equally irritable tapping finger. Both of us are dressed casually now – me in a simple denim jeans, Doc Martens and Slim Shady t-shirt ensemble, Ally garbed in black and grey active wear and one of my black hoodies – after a nice shower, so there's no putting off the inevitable now.

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