Question: if Loki had a kid on earth, what do you think his name would be? (hehehe need some inspiration *wink wink*)

Bucky's night from across the hall was unpleasant. I could hear his groans of phantom pain and mumbling of horrors he saw in his nightmares. It was followed by him puking his guts out.

I blocked out his emotions, clasping my hands over my ears as he kept sobbing, I knew he was quiet for everyone else, but the silence from other rooms was making even the quietest sounds too loud.

As the sun rose I could hardly see the difference between the bright, burning star and the moon. My mind was slightly foggy and my eyes were drooped. My limbs felt as if they weighted a ton, I flinched at the pain that came with empty stomach. It was a gentle, pinching feeling at first. But I knew it would get worse.

As I felt the gentle vibration of footsteps coming closer to my room, I snapped my eyes open and stood up, staring at the door expectedly.

“--you big headed, small eyed little annoying -- oh he's up.” “no shit, genius. How long have you been up for?” Clint asked as he stepped inside the room, he was already wearing his work clothes I noted. Which means, he's either just gotten back from a mission or he's having early training. “he ain't gonna answer you, smart ass.” Pietro snapped, leaning against the door as he rolled his eyes.

His orange shirt was uglier then the one yesterday. Not that I knew anything about fashion, just thought it didn't fit him that well. Guess Clint was the one who had lended him clothes again. I caught the clothes mid air that Clint threw at me. “go change, I can't believe all those people in this building haven't given you other clothes.”

That's how I found myself back in the same lab I had been yesterday, I could finally relax slightly. The smell of chemicals (even thought they were a bit different then the ones back in Hydra) and the humming of computers was familiar, safe surroundings. I stood in the tall box, a couple of lights above me made me see the tinted glass and the object that I had to place my head on. “now, close your eyes and don't move so we can get a good picture, if you start feeling any form of anxiety, there's a button on right wall, press that and all will be shut down. You will not feel a thing, it's a simple scan, Atlas.” i took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Bruce's smooth voice counted to three and I could hear the whirling above me.

It didn't hurt, the whole procedure, I could hardly feel a thing. He took a picture of my teeth and did a brain scan. Bruce was making me show him my claws, he was pretty impressed by the dark and long talons.

Bruce Banner was an interesting human being. His voice was always collected, calm and thoughtful. He was down to earth, his eyes never wavering, only filled with wonder and thirst for answers. He spoke, or more like murmured all the time, he asked me questions, only to end up nodding every time when he was met with silence again.

“I'm very confused, there are small, like pumps, or holes in your teeth. They could possibly be venom glands, like snakes and komodo varaans have. I wonder... Have you ever bitten anyone? Yes? No? Don't remember? It's alright, if possible, I would like to get an example.” the quiet hiss of door opening made me clamp my mouth shut, almost biting Bruce's fingers. He clicked his tongue as he turned towards the door.

“FRIDAY said you wanted me here, so, what's up Bruce?” Clint asked, making himself comfortable on Bruce's chair and spinning around with it, throwing his head back and looking at us upside down. “ah, right. That was like, an hour ago, Clint.” the doctor said, frowning at the grown up man who was currently pushing himself off from the wall as he wheeled towards the other wall with the spinning chair. “ah, but you see, I'm not late, the clock is just too early.” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “By the way, Steve left you some waffles kid. They're in the kitchen waiting for you after Bruce here gets done with his... Whatever doctors claim to be doing.” he said, as he shot back towards us with the chair.

That seemed like fun, I promised myself to try it out whenever or if I happened to be alone in this lab. “alright, sure. Take off your shirt Clint.” the assassin threw his hands in the air “Woah Banner! Never thought you'd swing that way and so boldly! Ah, you see, I'm not into guys, Sorry Bruce.”
“Clint.” The wiser of the two said accusingly, making me even more confused. “ah fine, I was just testing the kids humour level, guess he's a harder nut to crack then I thought at first, he didnt even blink.” the assassin murmured, pulling off his shirt.

“I knew it.” Bruce said thoughtfully, pushing up his glasses as he looked closer a scar that was on Clint's side.

Only one scar?

“What? I know I'm in shape and all--” “Atlas, mind coming here for a second and showing me your back, I just want to be sure.” I followed the doctors orders, feeling slightly uneasy. Okay, Clint had more than one scar.

“do you see Clint? The tissue, its done recently, but it matches the one you have. It's done professionally.” Banner stated, letting me take a step away from the two and hide the scarring on my back. “oh I see Bruce, I may be deaf but I'm certainly not blind.” Clint said dryly. Yet again, there was a red hue of anger I could feel from him.

I tensed, waiting for him to lash out. These people had anger issues, they really did. Clints lips were in thin line, his hands balled into fists. “You know what could possibly be cause of such... Damage?” he croaked, flickering his eyes up to Doctor Banner who sighed and massaged his temples. “I think it could have been a long and thin object. Lashing perhaps, or maybe it was... No, I don't know anything for sure Agent Barton.” the older man answered, his voice defeated.

“we'll figure it out.” “No wonder he doesn't say a thing, look at him. Like a stray dog waiting to get beaten.” The assassin exclaimed, his eyes filled with pity as they stared at my shoulder, I could tell he was almost searching for the scarring under my shirt. A stray dog? What did he mean by that?

“Look, it's bad, I know it's bad. But I think we are in bigger trouble then I first thought.” Clint perked up, looking at Bruce suspiciously. “okay, I hope you're talking about like I-forgot-my-10-o'clock-coffee kind of bad, and not the aliens-are-in-need-of-another-orbit kind of bad.” the assassin asked, standing up from the chair he had been wheeling around with earlier. “the only kind of machine that could great a tissue like this, was done by Tony. And there was only one example, that too was in the hands of SHIELD until all the Ultron mess broke out. Then Stark took --or knowing him, stole-- it back. The question is, if we have the only machine that could do that, then how does Atlas have wounds that have been healed by it? And so professionally as well?”

“oh, damn Bruce. We gotta tell Steve. But it could be easier if you could tell us who healed you up all nice?” the assassin asked, his eyes staring at me intensively.

I stared back, feeling slightly anxious under his stoic stare.

“we have to tell the others, there could possibly be hydra spies in the system again.” the assasin growled, heading towards the door.

A/N

I've never thought of myself as a busy person. But damn, lately I've gotten back to dorm at 9pm.

Hope you weren't disappointed by the chapter, I'll try to make the next one longer.

Uh, my friend has been missing couple of weeks. She attempted suicide, and I don't know what she is doing or where she's at. Last I heard she was at the hospital. I don't know guys, I'm worried. I didn't... I mean, she didn't seem that bad. But maybe I should've paid more attention.

Thank you for reading my story, love you guys.