With time growing closer to midnight, the crowd started to thin out. By eleven on the dot, the last duo invited had left, shouting a drunken wave to the Avengers, who were lounging on the couches on top of the platform.
Natasha and Bruce took up part of one couch, talking together; Maria and Helen Cho were giggling beside each other; Tony and James Rhodes, or Rhodey, as I learned to call him, sat arguing about tech of the Iron Man suits; Thor and Steve were on the couch I sat against, their conversation unknown to me, since I was too caught up in my own.
Clint Barton and I were sitting on the floor opposite of each other, our feet stretched underneath the coffee table, entranced in a conversation about the Chinese food we ordered.
"Sweet and sour sauce for the win, man, I'm telling you," I argued, stabbing a chopstick through a piece of chicken and dipping it into the sauce beside me.
"Wrong," disagreed Barton, flipping a pair of drumstick around his fingers, "Soy sauce is the real luxury."
"Old man, please," I teased.
"Old man? You want to talk about old men?" asked Barton. He stopped flipping the drumstick and pointed behind me, presumably at Steve. "You're dating one, kid."
I rolled my eyes. I finished off the chicken and set the empty box on the table, placing the sauce beside it. My hand bumped into the hammer, expectedly, it didn't budge.
"It's a trick," muttered Barton.
I glanced at him, following his gaze to the hammer. I shook my head. A party trick wasn't all the hammer could be reduced to.
"'Who shall ever be he worthy shall haveth the power,' whatever, man, it's a trick!" he mocked.
My giggling at Barton's terrible impression of Thor's voice caught the attention of everyone. Their conversations ceased, focused on ours.
"Be my guest," offered Thor.
Barton looked to him. Thor held out his hand in the hammer's direction, tempting him to give it a try. Barton's drumsticks clattered on the coffee table as he stood.
"Clint, you've had a tough week, we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up," said Tony.
Barton, one handed, gripped the handle. "I've seen this before," he told the team. He pulled. He strained. "But I still don't know how you do it," he chuckled.
"Smell the silent judgement?" asked Tony.
"Please, Stark, be my guest," said Barton, irritated, while he sat back down.
Tony raised his eyebrow cockily. He stood, releasing a button on his jacket.
"I'm never one to shrink from an honest challenge. It's physics," he claimed. While wrapping his hand through the band, he asked, "So, if I lift it, do I get to rule Asgard?"
"Yes, of course," agreed Thor.
"I will be reinstituting Prima Nocta," announced Tony.
The joke went over their heads, leaving them to look at me for clarification, being the only person to give a quiet chuckle.
"In the past, it was rights used by nobles that said they could have sexual intercourse with the wife of a man newly married on the night of their wedding," I explained.
An awkward pause occurred. I took a long chug of my beer to look busy. I learned the pause was because of me. Tony hadn't touched the hammer, because his eyes were on me.
"How do you even know that?" he asked.
"I was supposed to be a history teacher," I muttered shyly.
Steve noticed my discomfort and looked at Tony. "Stark, it's all you."
Tony waited no longer to prove his worthiness. He made an unnoticeable grunt of extreme effort, to no use. He unwrapped his hand.
"I'll be right back."
He returned with a hand covered in armor. The hammer continued to stay still. Tony requested that Rhodey grabbed his suit hand.
While pulling upwards, Rhodey panted, "Are you even pulling?"
"Are you on my team?"
"Just represent. Pull!"
On Bruce's turn, he stepped onto the table, with both hands pulled. Jokingly, although we hadn't known at the time, he growled and jumped down, teeth bared.
I watched him, debating on whether or not I should be smiling, or worried about his sanity.
Steve decided to take a shot, stepping across me, rolling his sleeves to his elbows.
"Honestly, if anyone was going to lift it, it would be Steve or Little Miss Sunshine over there," said Tony thoughtfully.
"Really? Come on, Tony, there are such better nicknames than that," I countered, shaking my head in disappointment.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Am I hearing right? Is that negativity? That's unlike you, Smiles."
"There you go," I smiled.
I heard a squeak against the table, snapping my attention to Steve as he pulled. He released, bringing his hands up in surrender.
"I believe it's your turn, Clara," he said.
I took his hand. He brought me to my feet. I slipped my hand through the strap and curled my fingers around the handle. I pulled. Nothing happened.
"What a shame," I announced. I put my hands on my hips and performed a fancy curtsy. "I could see myself as Queen of Asgard."
Unaware of the mild shock I'd caused with my statement, I plopped back down to my spot on the floor, only to look at the team and find everyone watching me, various types of amusement on their faces.
I sighed. "What did I say now?"
"I'd be honored, my lady, but I'm afraid my heart is with another," Thor clarified, smiling fondly at me. "And I believe yours is as well."
Tony was oblivious to Thor's reference, which all except him understood. He spit out a fast, "What?" but he was drowned out by Bruce asking Natasha if she wanted to give the hammer a try.
"Oh, no, that's not a question I need to answered," she denied.
"All difference to the man who wouldn't be King, but it's rigged," claimed Tony.
"You bet your ass," agreed Barton.
Maria pointed at Barton, eyebrows raised. "Steve, he said a bad language word!"
"Did you tell everyone about that?" groaned Steve.
Tony ignored him. He wasn't paying attention to the conversation. His genius mind still analyzed the hammer.
"The handle is like an imprint, a-a security code? 'Whoever is holding Thor's fingerprints' is, I believe, the literal translation," he disclosed.
"Ah, yes. I have a simpler one," said Thor, sweeping the hammer briskly from the table, "You're all not worthy."
Teasingly, Maria and I booed him.
A sharp ringing shot through our ears seconds later, drawing pained gasps from a few people. The echoing ringing in our ears turned into a deep voice, one that sounded lost, pained, as though it was attempting to find itself.
"Worthy... No... How could you be worthy? You're all killers."
Steve was the first to stand, causing a domino effect to occur, everyone rising to their feet.
At the higher level, I saw where the voice originated: a broken bot.
Pieces of wire strung lazily through his middle, stringing him together, just barely. He was missing an entire arm, leaving the other bent, laying against his chest. He stepped towards us, waddling, similar to a child learning to walk.
"Stark," warned Steve.
"Jarvis," said Tony in return, his eyes glancing at the ceiling expectantly.
As the robot spoke, a blue light formed into a line moved up and down, a makeshift mouth. "Sorry, I was asleep... Or... I was a dream..."
"Reboot, we've got a buggy suit," tried Tony. He spoke to Jarvis, who wasn't responding, according to the way Tony furiously tapped on his phone.
"There was a terrible noise... And I was tangled in... in... strings... I had to kill the other guy... He was a good guy."
Steve's shoulders tensed. "You killed somebody?"
"Wouldn't have been my first call," defended the robot. What was in tact of his shoulder seemingly gave a shrug. "But, down in the real world we're faced with ugly choices."
"Who sent you?" asked Thor.
A recording came from the robot, the voice Tony's. "I see a suit of armour around the world."
"Ultron!" gasped Bruce.
"In the flesh. Or, no, not yet. Not this... chrysalis... But I'm ready. I'm on a mission."
Sensing things were about to take a turn, I curled my fingers, readying them.
Maria Hill had caught my motion. Conspicuously, she grabbed her gun from the table.
"What mission?" asked Natasha.
Ultron's head swung to us. "Peace in our time."
On his command, four robots, under his control, crashed through the wall behind him, their goal to destroy.
Steve's hand pushed at my waist, shoving me out of the way of an incoming robot. He took the hit himself.
Maria fired from behind the couch. She ducked, using her free hand to help me to my knees.
"I can get you out of here," I offered.
"I'll be fine, go," she said.
Helen Cho cowered behind the piano across the room. Her quickly moving eyes, searching for help, found my own. I held up my finger, readying myself to run for her.
I jumped over the couch, leaped over the railing, and I was hit during my time in the air by a robot. I hit the bar. I narrowly avoided clashing with Bruce and Natasha. They sprinted up the stairs.
"Clara!" called Bruce.
Natasha grabbed the collar of his dress shirt and ripped him from where he stopped. She dragged him to safety.
I popped up over the bar, scanning for Helen. My eyes stopped on Tony. He was running across the walkway in front of the windows, wielding a metal chopstick. He searched for a robot to disarm.
Explosions and gunshots were sending debris flying my way, originating from where Bruce and Natasha were trapped behind a pillar at the top of the staircase.
"Stark!" I shouted.
He whipped his head to me.
I curled my fingers, opening a portal next to him, its exit behind the hovering robot attacking Bruce and Natasha.
Tony's lips split, glancing back and forth between me and my portals, greatly confused.
Despite the situation, I let out a giggle. Barton was right: his reaction was kind of worth the wait.
"Yes, I made those, now go!" I yelled.
Tony tossed in a piece of debris, ensuring the transport was safe, before he jumped in himself.
"Clara!" yelled Steve. He sprinted towards me.
"Helen!" I called in return.
I flicked my wrist. I created a portal to her location in front of him. He jumped just in time to avoid tripping over the brim of the portal.
The last unattended robot I planned to take care of. I slid over the bar. I hit the ground without checking to see if it was clear of debris. Somehow, I hadn't noticed my missing left shoe, either. I took no more than four steps before I dropped to the floor, the bottom of my left foot shooting a stinging pain up my leg.
On the balcony in front of the lab, Barton called out, "Captain!" and proceeded to toss the shield to Steve.
Analyzing the situation, I decided I had a better path than the intended one. I threw up a portal in front of Steve. The shield flew through a portal, bounced off the wall at a special angle, which sent it straight at the neck of the last robot. The robot split in half.
"Well, that was dramatic," sighed Ultron.
Steve deduced that the final Ultron robot posed no immediate threat. He sprinted to my aid. From the floor, he effortlessly brought me to my waist. He accepted a majority of my weight as I tried to stand.
"I'm sorry, I know you mean well, you just didn't think it through," said Ultron. "You want to protect the world, but you don't want it to change. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to evolve? There's only one path to peace: the Avengers' extinction."
Nobody else seemed to be thinking about taking action. I designated myself to do it. I struck my hand through the air, creating two portals on either side of him. I crushed him between them.
Doing so brought the scattered Avengers attention to me.
"I was getting a little impatient," I defended.
"What the hell was that?" snapped Barton.
Bruce's brow creased, his eyes automatically flickering to Tony, who didn't bring his eyes up from the wrecked robot. With Tony not responding, Bruce felt the need to explain to the group.
"Ultron. That was Ultron."