136

There’s no way you’re breaking up your rescue mission minutes away from victory, so you shake your head at Tony and shout, “Tasha first!”

He nods his understanding (Tony Stark, listening?), and calls back, “Well if time is going to be an issue,” and breaks out some crazy laser weapon thing embedded in the wrists of his armour, searing across the field of battle in every direction and taking our pretty much every agent in the vicinity.

“Holy fuck,” is all you can say when he’s done and you’re standing on slag that was once a truck cab, “why the hell didn’t you do that first?”

            He laughs. “Save it for when I need it,” he explains. “I only have the one.”

“I liked this jumpsuit,” a new voice says plaintively, and it’s Natasha, burn mark clearly visible in the fabric of her sleeve. Tony just rolls his eyes and says, “Come on, I’m going to drop you off and go get Steve,” and you decide if he’s got all of that under control, it’s about time someone went to help the others, so you toss off a half-assed salute at them and get moving.