Vengeance [Avengers Fanfiction]

[Chapter 37]

[A/N:] Warning, this is unedited. Please point out any mistakes if you find them :) I'm going out of town for several days, so I won't update until the middle of next week. We're so close to the end that I can see it on the horizon! :D Oh, and I'll dedicate a chapter to anyone who makes fan art i.e a banner, cover, etc! 

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[Tony]

    "Your move, Banner." I smirked, watching victoriously as the doctor scowled.

    My eyes narrowed as Bruce and I stared each other down evenly. His deep, brown eyes blazed with the heat of war. We were locked in a battle of wits, one that only one could rise from the ashes and triumph over their foe.

    In other words, we were playing chess.

    Bruce ran his fingers through his hair as he stared bleakly at the black and white, marble chess board, his gaze fixating on his remaining, dispersed troops that were scattered across the checkered playing field.

    "Give up, Banner. There is no way for you to succeed!" I exclaimed dramatically, voice low. "Forfeit to me or be the cause of your own death!"

    "Never!" he protested viciously. "I shall never succumb to your traps!"

    Bruce's eyes landed on his black bishop and my heart jumped into my throat as I saw a small smile creep its way onto his lips.

    The damn bishop. I forgot about that. I thought,  mentally cursing my stupidity.

    "You might have foiled all of my other plans, Stark, but you forgot one thing. My bishop."

    Grinning, he glided the bishop across the board with his fingertips, taking the place of my king, which he snatched greedily from its place.

    "Checkmate." he chuckled over my loud groans of misery.

    I pointed at him fiercely. "You have bested me this time, Banner, but I vow that you will rue this day!" 

    "Best two out of three?" suggested Bruce, leaning back in his chair, a smug expression on his face.

    "Oh, you're on."

    "Sir, Miss Monroe just jumped from the roof and so far it seems like she has no intentions of saving herself." JARVIS's voice rang from the ceiling, interrupting our banter.

    "Wait, what?" Bruce gaped as we scrambled to our feet, the chess game forgotten.

    "JARVIS, deploy Mark VII, now!" I ordered, running to the window and looking out of it, seeing a dark form flash past. "If she doesn't stop, catch her!"

    "Quinn jumped!" Steve panted as he barreled into the room, eyes wide with panic. 

    "Elevator!" called Bruce, gesturing for us to get into the glass elevator so we could get to the ground level quickly. We did so, the atmosphere strained as the tiny room shot downwards.

    Rogers was clearly tense because I noted that his hands were clenched into tight fists, muscles coiled.

    "She wouldn't let herself hit the ground, would she?" he croaked, looking between Banner and I.

    My eyes met Bruce's and we shared a grim look, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

    Yes, she would.

    With a chirpy ding that was completely inappropriate for the situation, the doors slid open. Three sets of feet pounded the sleek, marble floor as we raced outside of the Tower, the bitterly cold wind like a slap to our cheeks.