HellFire's Rider Of Vengeances

Chapter Four: A shield or loaded gun?

                    Clarke groaned as she pushed herself up from the medical bed, the cold air of the med bay brushing against her bare skin. EKG electrodes clung stubbornly to her chest, and she winced as she peeled them off one by one. Cracking her neck, she muttered under her breath, "Why are the hot ones always bad?"

                    The door to the med bay slid open with a soft hiss, and Dr. Helen Cho rushed in, her face a mask of concern. Her worry melted into relief when she saw Clarke sitting up, very much alive and well. Dr. Cho let out a long sigh, shaking her head. "Must you do that?" she asked, her tone a mix of annoyance and exasperation as she switched off the EKG machine.

                    Clarke offered a sheepish smile. "Sorry to scare you, Doc. How's Barton? Is he still kicking?" She reached for her black and red skin-tight tank top draped over the chair beside the bed, the fabric cool and familiar in her hands.

                    Dr. Cho's expression softened as she replied, "He's going to be fine. With my machine, there's no possibility of deterioration. The nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous. His cells don't even realize they're bonding with a simulacrum. If Tony had brought him to my lab, the regeneration Cradle could have done it in twenty minutes."

                    Clarke chuckled as she pulled the tank top over her head. "I'm sure the old man had a joke about being made of plastic."

                    A smile tugged at Dr. Cho's lips. "He did, though I'm positive his girlfriend won't be able to tell the difference."

                   Just then, Tony strolled into the room, his trademark smirk firmly in place. "Oh good, you're up. I expect to see you at the party on Saturday," he said, his tone light but commanding.

                   Clarke rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, goody."

                    Several nights later, Clarke stepped out of the elevator into the living room of the Avengers base. The soft hum of the elevator doors closing behind her was drowned out by the lively chatter filling the room. She wore a loose black Gelso shirt, two buttons undone to reveal her dog tags, and dark gray high-waisted, double-pleated wide-leg pants. Her brown wingtip Oxford shoes clicked softly against the floor as she moved. The living room was a sea of unfamiliar faces, a mix of laughter and conversation creating a vibrant atmosphere. Clarke's eyes scanned the room, taking in the sight of people she didn't recognize. She made her way towards the bar, where Natasha was expertly mixing drinks. As she approached, Clarke's ears caught snippets of a conversation nearby. "Well, you know, the suit can take the weight, right? So, I take the tank, fly it right up to the General's palace, drop it at his feet, I'm like, Boom! You looking for this?" Rhodes' voice carried over the din, but Stark and Thor just stared at him blankly. "Boom! Are you looking...Why do I even talk to you guys? Everywhere else that story kills," he said, exasperated.

                    Clarke shook her head with a smile as she reached the bar. "Hello gorgeous, work here long?" she asked in a flirtatious tone, causing Natasha to roll her eyes with a smile.

                    "What's your poison?" she asked, reaching for the bottles.

                    "A godfather, please," Clarke replied. Natasha's hands moved with practiced ease, mixing the whiskey cocktail and pouring it into a tall glass within seconds.