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Talking Makes It Better"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Talking will make it better."
"You know that it doesn't with me."
Tony sighed, getting frustrated. How the hell did Bruce stay so calm? Especially now, after what had been done to him? "Bruce, I know this stuff. I've been there. If you tell me exactly what happened, we can put his ass in jail!"
Bruce shut his eyes tightly, and Tony knew that he just didn't want to relive it. Tony understood. He understood, but didn't approve.
"You've been locked up in here for days, Bruce. You need to tell us what happened, or at least tell Fury! We saw your situation when we ran in there, it was bad! You were shaking and- and twitching, you couldn't stand on your own! But if you want those guys locked up, you have to tell us exactly what happened."
"Why the hell not?" Tony demanded. Bruce was silent. The other man just held his head. "Just...will you at least take a shower, or something? You're filthy!"
Water, just water, up to his waist, making him
The Avengers: Making Him LaughTony walked into the lab. It wasn't a surprise to see Bruce in there, working his butt off.
"This really isn't a good time," the frustration was evident on Bruce's face. Tony considered leaving.
"Please," Bruce almost pleaded and looked at Tony directly in his eyes.
"Fine. I'll come back later... hopefully when you're in a better mood."
Tony left the room without another word coming from Bruce or himself. He decided to skip the kitchen and the 'hanging out' room of the heli-carrier, and instead head to the target range.
Tony grabbed his repulsor arm from a case inside one of the vaults of the ship and headed back upstairs to go test his armor. Tony wasn't very surprised to see Hawkeye also practicing in the room.
"Good evening, Barton," Tony acknowledged the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.
"Hello," Clint looked at Tony and shot his arrow at the same time, still getting a perfect bullseye. Tony smirked, hooking up his armored a
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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