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This Seems Familiar | Bek & Clint

Having half a floor of lab space to herself in Stark Tower was an exercise in living the dream for Bek. Oh, she had a lab of her very own before, but there was always a strict menu of things she was permitted to work on at any given time. This was a playhouse, her very own domain to build whatever the hell she wanted, whatever she thought might be of help. The freedom had made her giddy at first, especially when she got to raid the wreckage of the Triskellion and other out of commission SHIELD and/or Hydra bases for anything dangerous or useful. When it came to things collected by either group, sometimes items fell into both categories. Instead of the restrictions she faced at SHIELD, now she got to design and build whatever she wanted, when she wanted, and with music playing as loud as she liked -- the latter was something she had tended to do anyway.

At present she was working on something a little more personal, although in theory it could be of use to others in the event of a horrible accident. Bek was wary of the device herself, even as she planned the blueprint. The fact of it was that it was a big thing to consider, and not something she could back away from if she went through with it. Controlling a prosthesis that interfaces with one’s own brain was something that one had to get the hang of, she had been doing fine with something so small as her eye. An entire arm was different. It was working all right, but the mechanic in her knew she could have much greater control if she was willing to have this device implanted in her skull. It was a signal boost of sorts, a secure network that would support better communication between brain and arm. The real trouble was that she wasn’t sure she was ready for the fact that part of the interface would likely have to be exposed, a visible panel on the side of her head. She ran her fingers along the lumps where a metal plate replaced a section of bone under her scalp, the less visible souvenir of the day she lost her eye as a teenager.

She wasn’t entirely resigned to accepting her tabloid identifier as “Iron Man’s new cyborg girlfriend” just yet, there were still a few models that she had in mind to run diagnostics on. But so far, a glowing blue undercut was still the most likely option on the table. Unless sometime in the next few months, someone with a soviet robot arm resurfaced and was open to her having a look at it, she was on her own on this one. She gestured to expand and pull apart the components of the device, hoping to tinker around with the makeup a little more. She focused on the music, dancing slightly to Close to Me by The Cure as she manipulated the hologram and edited the design.

#this seems familiar #itfeelsworse

A Choice Offered || Clint and Jen

Things were finally smoothing out with the Heroes Initiative. Everything she had worked on with Steve and Tony was coming together, people were working together. The X-Men were even on board, albeit temperamental at times about what was “mutant business” and what everyone else should get involved with. But there were loose ends, people who were missing, her own cousin was among them. But it had been decided that Bruce could come back on his own time, he seemed to be enjoying the Himalayas.

After some discussion on the point of who should reach out to Clint in Natasha’s absence, it was decided that someone who didn’t actually know him might put him more at ease. An old teammate might put him on the defensive if he didn’t want to come back, after all, shame clearly factored into his motivation for leaving. Jen had spoken to Erik Selvig before coming, wanting to better understand what Loki’s thrall meant. The physicist had been utterly destroyed by the control, and he had not been made to kill under it. Jen was new to the Avengers, she had never been part of SHIELD, a new hero reaching out to a veteran might have been the best way to go -- or it could backfire. Still, it was worth trying.

Clint had been picked up on satellite imaging a few times over the past year, never far from the same location in Iowa. Given that the SHIELD files stated it was where Clint had grown up, it helped build a picture. The old farm house Clint had been living in and working on was either his parents’, or a foster home he had actually liked.

Jen drove the rented Audi up the gravel path, she had been grateful for the cruise control on the long drive from the airport. The country air was crisp, she could smell grass, and she remembered that there is actually life outside Manhattan. She parked the car outside the gate and stepped out, dressed simply in jeans, a t-shirt and boots. In her usual half-hulked state, she was green, near enough to six feet tall, and her muscles were defined beneath her clothes. She used the stile to get over the fence, and began to approach the house.

#itfeelsworse #a choice offered