Feel My Soul Avenger

Hail Hydra

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Suicide by Cyanide, Mention of crime, Mention of Sex

        "I'm right here asshole." Tony snarked at the men, as he took in the situation that he had walked in on. I was so relieved that someone had come. That one of them had felt my fear and anger through the bond. I ended up not looking away from him for a full minute. His righteous anger was stunning in the face of the adversary we were both staring down. That didn't stop me from wishing he had brought back up though. As ridiculous as it might sound, the last thing I wanted was for him to get hurt.

        I was in for a surprise though, because it wasn't just Tony who had come. Standing with him, were Steve and Clint. He had brought backup to my relief. Even superheroes need a hand every now and then. Plus now there was less of a chance of one of them coming to harm. Together, all three of them were taking in the violent scene with looks of disgust on their faces. Then, like it was as easy as Pi, they switched on spy mode, and their feelings were hidden. The only way that I could tell what they were feeling, was by looking at their eyes, and by feeling it through our bond.

        All that was going through my mind at that moment was thanks and praise. Wherever the Good Lord was at this moment, no matter if that was in heaven. In this room. In a church. Or even on a tortilla down South. Wherever he was, he must have heard my prayers. All three of them stood there lined up in a row, looking like rage was about to overcome them. I felt no pity for what was about to befall these pigs who had ruined my otherwise perfect day. Did that make me a bad person? I hope not, because these guys deserved every gut punch they were going to receive, and I hope they got plenty.

        You couldn't tell by just glancing at Clint, but the tick in his jaw, and the fire burning behind his eyes, was all that I needed to see, to know that he was about to kick some serious ass. Or kill someone. I didn't know the difference between those two looks or moods yet.

         Tony stood to the far left of their superhero lineup, and was closest to me. He was wearing jeans and a skin tight Metallica tank top. If we would have been in any other situation, I wouldn't have been able to take my eyes off of him and the muscles he was displaying. As it was, I only had time to spare him a glance. His black oil stained arms, and grease stained  fingers, left little doubt in my mind, that he had run straight out of his lab to get here. He was staring at me intently, and the more he stared, the angrier he seemed to get. I honestly thought at one point, that his head was going to explode from all the rage he was exuding.

        Last but not least, standing right in the middle and looking like the soldier he was, was Steve. He gave nothing away. No emotions, no thoughts on what he was feeling about the situation, nothing. The only exception to that, were the few stolen glances he gave to me. He stood stoically, tall, and proud, as he assessed the situation in front of him. I couldn't have been more thankful for his calm demeanor at that moment, because my heart felt like it was going to pop out of my chest. Even if there was an inferno of anger in his eyes.

        "Here I was expecting only one of your boy toys to come to your rescue sweetheart. Instead, I get all three. What a happy surprise!" The leader clapped his hands together in mock glee, as I fought even harder to get away from his buddy. The guy sounded absolutely bonkers, and I had no desire to be anywhere near them when the fighting broke out. And yes, there would be a fight. I could almost sense it in the air, and see the longing for it in all of the "bad guys" eyes.

         The hand that was currently wound tightly in my hair disappeared suddenly, and moved to wrap around my neck. Restricting all of my movements, and cutting off blood flow. This guy was getting on my last damn nerve. I was just about to say something, when he squeezed my throat lightly in warning. My airway closed partially, and to try and free myself, I dug my fingernails harshly into the flesh on the back of his hand. My attempt to try and remove the hand that was cutting off part of my air supply was futile. It only ended in his hands being bloody, and my nails breaking and splintering into tiny pieces. My eyes closed at the feelings of pain and helplessness that overtook  me. His grip, though light and not enough to kill, was warning enough. "Don't try anything funny." the warning nonverbally said. Trust me, I had no plans to . . . yet anyway.