Snapshot (фотография)

II

Tony Stark was feeling odd. He hadn't felt this odd since the 90's. Holding his fingers out, he looked them over, wiggling them slightly. They looked blurry, and his mouth dropped open as he watched them grow feathers and turn into red and gold bird's wings.

"Pepper!!" He called, violently jerking his fingers. "Ohhhh Pepper, I've got wings!!!"

Pepper Potts entered the room to find her boyfriend flapping his arms and running around like a three year old. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Grabbing him by his shoulders, she felt his forehead, which was practically flaming. His olive skin was clammy, his pupils were dilated, and his face was flushed. His breathing was slow and shallow.

"Really, Tony? How long did you stay in that lab?" She called out to Steve, who had just entered the living room, holding a mug of coffee. Steve's eyes went wide as he took in the scene.

"Golly." He said, watching Tony jerk himself around before the billionaire noticed him.

"Capsicle!" Tony cried. "You have wings too!" His voice became higher and higher until he sounded like a balloon losing air. Cap looked at Tony, who was valiantly struggling against Pepper's tight grip- he was losing- and then looked at the exasperated blonde woman who had to put up with him.

"He's delirious." She explained. "Can you take him down to Bruce, please?" Pepper looked so tired and hopeful that Steve couldn't say no. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he glanced over and assessed the situation. Reaching forward, he took Pepper's place. She gratefully left, calling back over her shoulder to him.

"Oh, and Steve?"

"Yes?"

"Don't hesitate to use any force necessary." He gave her a humorous smile, pulling Tony over his shoulders for a fireman's carry as the man wiggled even more. These, however, didn't seem voluntary, like he was trying to fly. These were violent, and they rocked Cap back and forth as he boarded the elevator. He grunted as he tried to keep Tony still, holding down his shoulder in an attempt to stop the convulsions.

"Oh dear." Bruce commented in a monotone as Steve tiredly plopped Tony down on the resting table. "Hold his shoulders down. This looks like a seizure."

"Heyyyy Brucie boyyyyyyy." Tony slurred, his arms moving violently.

"Hi Tony." Bruce replied distractedly, holding his shoulders down. Tony's lips were turning blue, and Steve began to panic.

"Why are his lips turning blue, Bruce?! Why are they turning blue?! Are they supposed to be blue?!!!!"

"I don't know, but you need to calm down." Steve immediately complied unthinkingly, sitting down in the chair in the corner. Bruce twisted his mouth, quickly grabbing a blue device that he injected into Tony's bloodstream to knock him out. He went still, and Bruce then gathered his pipettes and syringes to gather a blood sample from Tony.

"What are you doing?" Steve quietly piped up from the corner. Bruce shook his head to indicate that he would explain later as he watched the slow moving dark red liquid move through the tubes. Stopping it when two were full, he put Tony on an IV and inserted a sample into the processing system. As the computer beeped, the tension in the room rose.

Steve began to get jittery, his foot rocking back and forth on his crossed legs, and Bruce began pacing as he resisted yelling at the computer to run faster. Finally, the program stopped and F.R.I.D.A.Y's voice came over the speaker.

"You might want to look at this, doctor."

Bruce practically ran over, scanning over the screen with horror.

"Cyanide poisoning." The computer read. "89% chance of death"

Steve fainted.

-----

Peyta sat on the squeaky bed, his arms propping his head up as he waited for the devastating news of Tony Stark's death. His communicator dinged, and he eagerly opened the message. Scanning the Russian characters, his heart dropped down to his stomach.

The directive had come straight from his inside source. He quickly jumped out of bed and pulled on a shirt and his wig. Paul Stone wasn't supposed to have any friends and while the bored teenager at the front desk might not care, he couldn't take any chances. Peyta was invisible, and he was supposed to blend in, like the colour black in the night.

"Noir." Karine's voice came through his comm. "There are armed men approaching from about a block away."

"Weapons?" Peyta asked, pulling on his red wig and packing up whatever things he had left around the room. He stripped the sheets, putting anything that might hold any chance of DNA or fingerprint identification in his small briefcase.

"Rifles." She informed him. "I believe that they are SWAT officers."

Peyta swore, surveying the room for any other objects he might need to take. When it was determined there was nothing else, he put his pistol into his waistband, and covered it up with his jacket. Grabbing his bag, Paul Stone walked down the stairs at a tense and leisurely pace, trying not to attract suspicion.

"Hey, man." He greeted the bored teenager whose name tag proclaimed him 'Eugene'. Dropping the keycard on the desk.

"Just want to check out." Eugene gave a noncommittal grunt, typing a few things into his computer.

"Did you find everything to your satisfaction?" He didn't sound like he cared, but Peyta smiled anyway and nodded, trying not to seem like he was rushing. His muscles tensed and he felt his hand drift towards his gun out of instinct as the familiar tingle of danger and adrenaline ran up his spine.

"Okay, you're all checked out. Have a nice day."

"You too, Eugene." He smiled again and began making his way to the door, checking for any agents in the trees as he left. A man in a grey suit walked past him, greeting him with a smile, and before the doors closed, Peyta was able to hear his name.

"Phil Coulson? I'm checking in."

Walking just a bit faster, he put his hand in his pocket to access his quick switchblade disguised as a pen. Rolling his neck, Peyta pretended to take in the sights. There was no way this was a coincidence. Someone had to have tracked him down. Without watching where he was going, he found himself bumping into a blonde woman on the street.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "I'm so sorry." Quickly helping him up and trying to gather his belongings off the street, she continued apologizing, but she stopped when she caught a look of Peyta's face.

"Peter?" She asked. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Sorry, ma'am, I think you might have me confused with someone else."

She smiled ruefully, shaking her head. "You're right. He doesn't even have red hair. I'm Gwen, by the way."

"Don't worry about bumping into me. It's my own fault. I wasn't watching where I was going. Lucky that I wasn't or else I would have crashed into a beautiful lady like yourself." She blushed as Peyta laid into the charm, winking as he picked up his bag. He tried to ignore the deja vu he received at the name Peter.

"You have a nice day, ma'am." Continuing on his way, he moved more quickly, with two fingers in his pocket instead of all of them, so in case he did run into anyone again, he could bring his hand out for balance. Gwen did seem familiar though, and he didn't like the way it felt.