"Now I see. The demon is me."
Lisa May Stark is so much more than the child she used to be when she and her father were kidnapped in Afghanistan five years ago. She's Iron Man's daughter, she's the Red Raven, she's, well, you know who she is...
stand down, drop these weapons now we're walking this lie you know i try, try to compromise we're walking in this high cloud ─── elias
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seoul, south korea may 5, 2015
"There. It's a truck from the lab."
"Right above you guys. On the loop by the bridge. It's them. You got three with the Cradle, one in the cab. I could take out the driver."
"No! Don't!" I hurriedly argue, scowling down at the truck as it drives closer into my view.
Steve quickly agrees, "That truck crashes, the gem could level the city. We need to draw out Ultron."
Steve and I run down the side of the cement road and only come to a stop to follow Clint's directions. My eyes squint as we both look over the lengths of our shoulders, seeing the truck streaming down the highway. Steve lets out a puff of air before bouncing on his feet a few times as if he's preparing himself for something. My eyes widen and I let out a dejected sigh as I quickly realize what that is when he snatches onto my arm and then leaps the both of us over the guardrail and off the road. Our bodies land down hard onto the roof of the truck, causing a two loud thuds before we roll head over heels and then end up gripping onto the back of the vehicle.
"Give me a little more of a warning next time, would ya?!" I grunt as I struggle to hold on, giving him a look.
He offers me an apologetic shrug.
A strange pulsing begins humming in my brain and I scowl at the doors of the truck, knowing that this feeling must be coming from whatever Doctor Cho said Ultron has cooking in the Cradle.
"No, no, no, no," I heard a robotic voice grind out, building in rage as he screams, "Leave me alone!"
A huge red orange blasts shoots through the doors of the truck, sending Steve and me both flying in opposite directions as the doors snap back. Our bodies smack against the exterior of the truck before I grunt and kick the door forwards again. My legs are just smacking into Steve's when suddenly another blast collides into the metal doors, forcing us to leap up and then crash back down onto the collapsed doors.
"Talk about anger management issues," I mutter, grunting as I kickstart my bootjets to make holding on easier.
"Yeah, he's definitely unhappy!" Steve calls out over the comms, "We're gonna try and keep him that way."
Clint's voice rings in our ears as he says in such a purely honest tone that it hurts, "You're not a match for him, Guys."
