Bruce felt like his chest was going to burst. He braced himself against the counter, his palms already slick with sweat, and tried to battle off the memories of the hospital and the house and the court. The scar along his side began to sting, like it was ready to split open all over again.
“Bruce, are you sure this is safe?” Natasha said, her face impassive except for a slight flair of her nostrils, a blaring indicator of fear for anyone who knew what she looked like afraid. It wasn’t the world around her she was scared of. It was the possibility of the Hulk.
“I’m fine,” he said shortly.
“No, you’re not,” Alessa said, not even sparing them a glance before whistling, the noise intermingling with the breathy whistle of air flowing through the walls. “Valtiel! I know you’re around here somewhere…”
The room groaned, shifting on itself, contracting like a muscle. The door leading to the living room swung open, metal grinding against metal, the fleshy walls and floor shifting wetly into a different form, one made of rusted grating and industrial fans.
“We’re not alone. Someone’s trying to track me.” Alessa’s shoes made loud tapping noises as she walked across the grate, despite the fact she shouldn’t have been able to exert any weight on it. “Keep close.”
The next room barely looked like Tony’s living room at all. The space was the same, but the walls were a complicated series of interlocking gears and wheels and fans, turning and grinding against each other despite copious amounts of rust and steam rising from the cracks. Mostly shrouded in darkness and obscured by a lattice of rusty metal, two pairs of legs dangled through the ceiling, twitching and convulsing in pain for every slow rotation of the gears, choking noises coming from above. The legs looked different to everyone. One, belonging to the mother figure of the beholder. The other, the closest thing to a female symbol of sexual frustration to them.
Bruce looked like he was going to be sick. His hands were shaking and his throat was constricted and his chest was tight and why did they come back here--
And Steve saw nothing but an empty room with Stark’s usual machinery beeping softly on the walls, like someone had peeled back the plaster and shown off all of JARVIS’s inner workings.
“That’s Valtiel’s machine. He’s probably working upstairs.” Alessa ignored the legs and cupped her hands around her mouth. “VALTIEL!”
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“Bruce, are you sure this is safe?” Natasha said, her face impassive except for a slight flair of her nostrils, a blaring indicator of fear for anyone who knew what she looked like afraid. It wasn’t the world around her she was scared of. It was the possibility of the Hulk.
“I’m fine,” he said shortly.
“No, you’re not,” Alessa said, not even sparing them a glance before whistling, the noise intermingling with the breathy whistle of air flowing through the walls. “Valtiel! I know you’re around here somewhere…”
The room groaned, shifting on itself, contracting like a muscle. The door leading to the living room swung open, metal grinding against metal, the fleshy walls and floor shifting wetly into a different form, one made of rusted grating and industrial fans.
“We’re not alone. Someone’s trying to track me.” Alessa’s shoes made loud tapping noises as she walked across the grate, despite the fact she shouldn’t have been able to exert any weight on it. “Keep close.”
The next room barely looked like Tony’s living room at all. The space was the same, but the walls were a complicated series of interlocking gears and wheels and fans, turning and grinding against each other despite copious amounts of rust and steam rising from the cracks. Mostly shrouded in darkness and obscured by a lattice of rusty metal, two pairs of legs dangled through the ceiling, twitching and convulsing in pain for every slow rotation of the gears, choking noises coming from above. The legs looked different to everyone. One, belonging to the mother figure of the beholder. The other, the closest thing to a female symbol of sexual frustration to them.
Bruce looked like he was going to be sick. His hands were shaking and his throat was constricted and his chest was tight and why did they come back here--
And Steve saw nothing but an empty room with Stark’s usual machinery beeping softly on the walls, like someone had peeled back the plaster and shown off all of JARVIS’s inner workings.
“That’s Valtiel’s machine. He’s probably working upstairs.” Alessa ignored the legs and cupped her hands around her mouth. “VALTIEL!”