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            Then, a shiver runs through the thing’s metal body, like some kind of internal shockwave, and you think, yeah, there it goes. There’s a screeching wail, like metal under too much stress, like the sound the Titanic makes in that documentary Sitwell accidentally bought instead of the feature film he was supposed to get, and then you shout, “Timber!” because you’re fucking hilarious, and then the whole monstrosity comes crashing to the ground.

            When the dust clears and you stop coughing, Tony announces gleefully, “We beat it!”

“I beat it,” you point out.

“Whatever,” he shrugs, and you’re about to tell him exactly whose arrow it was that brought the thing down when Natasha steps in between the two of you.

“We did come here for a reason, you know,” she tells you.

“Oh. Right.”