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17

The suit kept talking, but I didn't really hear a word it said. That was, until I heard the words "I had to kill the other guy".

Peter, I thought, and almost instinctively, my eyes shot to Pietro. He didn't need me to say anything before he ran off, almost invisible at his speed. The suit didn't even seem to notice.

Pietro was back in an instant and nodded at me slightly, almost imperceptibly. I breathed a sigh of relief. Peter was okay, asleep in his room.

The relief I felt was brief, however, because the next thing I was conscious of hearing was my dad's voice coming from the thing in front of us.

"I see a suit of armour around the world."

"Ultron?" Bruce said.

"In the flesh," said the robot. "Or no, not yet. Not this...chrysalis. But I'm ready. I'm on a mission."

I didn't really hear anything that was said after that. Instead, I scanned the room, making sure everyone was preparing for a fight. Maria cocked her guns, and red whisps appeared from Wanda's hands.

And then, more of the Iron Legion came in, glass shattering around them. I saw Uncle Rhodey thrown through a window and Poppa jumping on the back of a legionnaire.

"Hey dad?" I yelled over the fighting.

"Yeah?"

"Are these things waterproof?"

"I mean, ideally but—" he yelled back, sounding perplexed.

"But was all I needed."

I focused as much as possible and pulled all the water I could out of the air and pushed it deep inside the legionnaires around me. They all fell to the ground, but then another came out of my blind spot and knocked me down the stairs. I tried to grab the railing, but it was wrenched from my hand. I heard a sickening noise and felt a burning sensation.

I was laying in a pile of glass, and Ultron was monologuing again. All I heard was "extinction of the Avengers." Not a great sign.

And then, he was gone.

Dad, Poppa, and Pietro all ran to me once they saw me at the bottom of the stairs. I sat up, inspecting myself for injuries. My left shoulder was sitting much lower than it should have been, and I couldn't move my arm.

Fuck.

"Give me your pocket square," I said to Dad when he reached me.

"What?" I asked incredulously. "Tess, I think you dislocated your shoulder."

"Give me your pocket square. And you," I gestured to Poppa, "give me your hand."

They obliged, all three of them watching me with furrowed brows. With my right hand, I placed the pocket square between my teeth and grabbed Poppa's hand. And then, I closed my eyes and focused. My shoulder started to move back into place and I bit down hard on the pocket square, just barely holding in a scream.

When I was done, they all looked at me, both concerned and impressed. Dad shook his head.

"Teenagers scare the living shit out of me."