Chapter 9

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"Please, just keep your cover," I whispered to Peter as we walked into the small grocery store. I searched the giant room quickly, taking in different exits and things to use as a weapon if it came down to it. Green walls, tan tiled floor, displays and bins full of food and free samples, this grocery store seemed pretty stocked for being in a medium sized town. The store clerks greeted us with warm smiles and kind voices.

Peter gave me a thumbs up before leaving in the other direction. The purple beanie on his head covered most of his brown hair and he tried to hide his face from the people he passed. I kept my head held high and strolled into the dinner isle. My clothes rubbed against each other, for I was wearing Steve's clothes that was a size or two bigger to keep my cover. My black hair fell into my face and I blew it away. Since we got to Tony's, Natasha and I sent Bruce and Peter out to pick hair dye. I dyed my hair black and Natasha became a blonde. It made it easier for us to remain hidden. The boys, on the other hand, were out of luck.

The news played over the trendy music on the speaker system. An anchor woman's voice dominated the debate, "The Avengers are terrorists. I'm sorry. They bombed Chicago and are guilty of it."

I curled my hands around the box of food I held and scowled. I could see how easily a civilian could be convinced it was our fault, but they were fed one of the biggest lies in superhero history.

She continued over the speaker, "They ran from the government for months. Running only means they did something bad. Once they're put in jail, they escape and slaughter some of the innocent guards. The Avengers should be in jail for life."

A man jumped in on the conversation in a heartbeat, almost cutting her off towards the end, "What happens when the world needs saving again? Are you going to have the same mentality?"

I picked up a few cans of food and started heading to the front of the store. Peter's job was to get snacks and drinks. I listened to the news intently, my blood starting to simmer.

"Yes," the anchor woman declared in a dead tone. "My mind isn't going to change. I had family in Chicago. And they killed them."

My heart sank immediately. Lots of people died. I knew that. What I didn't think about were the families that had relatives in the city. God, they must hate us. They wanted us to save them and we failed. We failed more lives than just the ones we lost.

Peter nodded when he saw me and headed to the cashier. I glanced over all of the snacks he put on the conveyer belt and rolled my eyes. There were more snacks than we actually needed. I didn't blame him, though. It had been a long time since we enjoyed food we liked. I aimlessly picked up the first newspaper on the shelf as we waited.

"Heroes Stuck in a Villain's Web of Blame: Nuke in Chicago Not Their Fault. Stark has stopped production of Stark Industries Nuclear Weapons according to his contract. Anyone could have acquired a Stark weapon on the black market or from a private seller and put the blame on the Avengers. To read more, turn to page 46."

I contemplated with a sigh. At least someone is thinking outside the box for other possibilities. Heroes bombing a city? What's the point of trying to save them, then?

Out of the store and with groceries packed in the small car, we were ready to head back home. I stopped at my car door and peered at what sat on the sidewalk. Peter followed my gaze and spotted a payphone. A small smirk spread across his lips. "Of all the payphones that haven't been closed down, this one happens to be one of them. I think our luck is turning."

I used the sleeve of my shirt to hold the phone and put in the change needed to make a call. The other end rang after dialing the number.

Ring.

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