Who Am I? » [Stucky]

136. First Impressions

The Bus was tightly parked in a compact hangar; constricting the breadth and length of the plane. The nozzle of the mechanical bird nearly kissed the frontal wall and the wingspan was a hair's breadth away from scraping the wall: it had been expertly navigated into the tight cavernous cavity. The pilot glamorously strutted down the stairs and came to join the team where they stood at the threshold of the aeroplane.

"Team, I'd like you to meet Melinda May..." Phil's cheeks perked up smugly as he introduced the skilled martial arts expert who strode imperiously to greet them.

"Why if it isn't the cavalry herself," Clint spilled the words, in esteem of the famed living legend. He'd hear the rumours and fabrications when training with SHIELD - only warped and exaggerated whispers.

Expressionless, she snatched his breakable wrist, squeezed it painfully at the ball-socket joint, knotted it up - inverted - against his back and sent him clattering to his shins subordinately with a sharp kick to the bend of his knees. She had him instantly immobilised and wincing, bent forwards at her mercy.

"Martial arts expert, pilot, long serving SHIELD agent and a pretty face. And not just some ridiculous story that they toss about at the academy these days. Apologise and I'm sure May will have the decency to let you go, Barton..." Phil rocked back and forth on his heels, rather entertained by the spectacle.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He hissed, grimacing and wriggling to try and untwist himself from the contortion. She unclasped her hand and allowed him to regain some dignity as he swayed to his feet.

"Natasha Romanoff... An honour to meet you, ma'am," Natasha said with great reverence, a resounding look of veneration in her evergreen eyes.

May gave her a wordless head tilt, her face still emotionless. Natasha could tell just by looking at her that she carried a lot in her heart. She kept her face blank, but her reactions had a strong sense of emotion imbued into them

"May, you're obviously familiar with Barton and Romanoff after my various anecdotes about Budapest, and I'm sure you know Rogers, Banner and Stark. But let me introduce you to Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes," he said, extending an arm in a sweeping motion, evocative of the tide, to gesture to the newest additions.

May spent a few seconds trying to figure out if she should place her trust in the recruits, but tipped her head at Bucky. "You're the one from the Howling Commandos..." She drawled in monotone, speaking for the first time, something akin to curiosity glowing in her eyes. A half-smile twitched onto her lips. "You should go and speak to Agent Triplett later if you can find the time," she suggested. "Nice to meet you, now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to retire for the evening..." She strutted off contemptuously, her heels clicking on the floor as she went, similar to the plips of raindrops leaking through a roof. Her walk was merciless and remorseless; immediately they knew she was a force not to be messed with.

"What's her problem?" Clint grumbled, trying to pinch and massage the life back into his throbbing shoulder.

"She doesn't like being called 'the cavalry'. For good reason too. So if you could avoid making unwise comments for once Clint, I think the pair of you could get on very well. It's amazing how some things never change..." Phil huffed. "Now if you can all follow me, there's a few people I know who are dying to meet you."

The Avengers trailed after Coulson like a trail of ants, but marching in pairs, holding quiet private conversations: although Clint's mutterings about Melinda May didn't fall deaf on anyone's ears. They were strung up with rucksacks and bags like cart horses, carrying overwhelming loads like tortoises and plodding along with just as much elegance: none.

"In all fairness you shouldn't have called her that, Clint..." Natasha admonished, giving him a slanted sideways glance, her fiery hair bouncing at her shoulders.