#fallenandlcst

You don’t always win. Phil knows this, and he’s been struggling lately. Certainly he’s respected in the Agency but he knows when the wind abruptly changes which way it’s blowing. He lets those he care about know and he’s gone.

Possibly it’s just paranoia, fueled by stress and sleep deprivation. Maybe once he gets some distance, feels safe and can rest, the situation will become more clear. He doesn’t really care. He’s got a lot of places he could go, but he doesn’t really consider it, and heads for Pittsburgh. Winter has asked him to visit more. Now he can. He’d left his duty phone emptied and shut off, so he’s got a burner phone and ends up just turning up, knocking gently on the door.

Maggie had been tagging along with her aunt Madeline to the top-secret Avengers HQ where Madeline worked. Seeing as how Maggie had been on winter break and the sitter cancelled, Madeline had had no other option than to bring Maggie.

Despite being told to stay put, Maggie took to wandering, taking the elevator up a level and then following the sounds of what she hoped was a television. When she found a room, she paused at seeing a man with a metallic arm. She paused and made a curious face, “Is that really your arm?”

“What is it, Winter?” He asked a bit harshly. Ever since Bruce had hulked out in front of the other, he had been kind of keeping his distance. “I’m working.”

He startled immediately as he felt the younger man pin him down. He tried to shove the younger man off–his instinct was to go for the throat until he realized who was tackling him.

“…I have done things that might give you nightmares.”

“Okay you can have it, but don’t you think it’s a little snug around your pectoral region?”

Warehouse, check.

Tony wouldn’t mind some heat-vision goggles, but her preliminary sweep shows no guards, just the automated security system, the likes of which she can take down in her sleep. It’s almost too perfect, manufacturer’s merchandise that doesn’t seem to be too frequently accessed, but should have the tech she needs. She checks the building, follows procedure even though there’s no one to punish her for failing anymore, and makes her entrance on the second floor.

She disables the alarm, climbing up the side of the building the old-fashioned way and slipping inside, dropping down to the ground floor with a soft thud. Towering shelves of boxes line the walls and make up a grid in the cavernous space, and she flicks on her flashlight, starting to check the shelf numbers and product labels, aisle by aisle.