Stiles against Ultron

The boogeyman (9)

Stiles sat on a tree stump, twirling his dagger in between his fingers. It had only been a few hours after Thor left. The team had been twiddling their thumbs, not knowing what to do. Steve and Tony were across the yard, chopping wood. Why? Stiles had no idea. It seemed a bit dramatic, if you asked him.

You're one to talk. You're sitting all emo, twirling your dagger.

Leave me alone.

Stiles, you're going to have to talk to me.

No. I don't think I do.

Mieczyslaw. The longer you don't talk to us, the more disconnected we will become, the more unstable you will become.

Oh, you're here too. Lovely.

Stiles, please-

Is the all powerful, eternal fox demon begging me? Oh, how fun.

Stiles! For the love of everything shut up and listen to us!

Mhm, let me think. How about I take a page from your book and just not talk to you for months and months, leave you alone, and then come back with no explanation! Yeah! I like that. Well, I'll see you then!

We had to!

Ok. Fine. Why? Why you have to leave?

There is someone coming.

Who?

There was no answer.

I hate you both. So so much.

Stiles huffed as he stood up, putting his dagger away. Stiles looked across the field to see Steve ripping a log of wood apart with his bare hands.

"Ok Cap!" Stiles laughed, clapping. "I see you!" But when he saw the look on Steve's face, he immediately regretted it. "Oh! Bad timing! My bad! Sorry Cap!"

Stiles turned around and went back into the house.

Can one of you tell me something.

No answer.

Please!

A loud ringing ripped through Stiles' ears causing him to double over in pain.

"Not this again,"

He passed out.

Mieczyslaw. Wake up, please.

Oh, he doesn't do well with that phrase.

And who's fault is that?

Hey!

"what the hell?" Stiles rubbed his eyes.

"Hello," A man stated.

"Who the hell are you?" Stiles asked, getting up from the ground. He wasn't where he had passed out.

"Oh, come on, Stiles. You don't recognize us?" Another man said from behind him. Stiles flipped around.

"Scott?" Stiles gasped.

"Unfortunately, no," The copycat Scott said. "But this was the friendliest form I could take. My natural form, well, last time it didn't go well." 'Scott' chuckled.

"Foxy?"

"You know it," Foxy finger gunned towards Stiles. Stiles turned back around to the other man.

"That makes you T," Stiles concluded.

"That it does," T smiled. T seemed to be taking the form of a human. The man wore a black suit and had long dreads down to his back. Yet, the one give away of his true identity was his tesseract colored eyes.

"I'm going to assume we are in my lovely, brilliant, gorgeous brain," Stiles boasted.

"Correct again,"

"Not the whole gorgeous bit. Quite lackluster if I do say so myself," Foxy mused.

"I hate you," Stiles sighed. "Why am I here?"

"We needed to speak with you somewhere you couldn't ignore us," T spoke.

"You did it first," Stiles crossed his arms.

"You're a child," Foxy grumbled. "We needed to."

"Yes because someone is coming," Stiles shook his arms in mock horror.

"He is dangerous, Mieczyslaw,"

"So I've been told," Stiles rolled his eyes. "What makes him so dangerous?"

"His goal,"

"You're being very cryptic here and I do not appreciate it. Either tell me or leave me alone."

"We can't, Stiles," Foxy huffed.

"We can only warn. If we share too much, it will affect the balance of the timeline," T said.

"Timeline?" Stiles questioned.

"Yes," Foxy said. "All we can say is your brother worked for him. It's why he came to New York and that the man that is coming is behind a lot of this shit."

"You're giving me nothing here," Stiles said. "You're telling me be scared of the boogeyman. That's the dumbest thing I've heard in a while. And I've heard a lot of stupid shit. I'll be scared when he shows up. Is that all?"

"Be careful," Foxy and T said at the same time.

"Always am," With that, Stiles went back to reality

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Very short. Very rushed. But I gotta get this book rolling again. Hi. Hello. Thank you all for 500 followers. I love you all. Stay safe, have a good day, go eat food.

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