I look up at the glass and concrete building that looms over my head. I grit my teeth as I drop my gaze back down to the glass doors before me. I can already see it's a madhouse inside and it takes everything in me to make sure I don't turn and walk away.

After deciding on what I hoped to be the 'right' choice, I had to limp at least 8 more blocks back uptown. I can't tell you how many times I was sarcastically singing 'Makin' my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass, and I'm home bound.' Note all that sarcasm.

It had taken me about a little over an hour just to walk all those blocks. The looks I got as I struggled down the street made it seem as though the zombie apocalypse had begun. Then again, my wind-swept hair, limp, grunting, and groaning didn't help my case. Oh yeah and the bruises. Or maybe they just thought I was a junkie? Honestly, I couldn't care less.

Frickin' robots and their dumb rebellious phases.

At one point on my journey, some kid nudged his mother before pointing and whispering. By then I was ready to just tear something to bits with energy. So I turned toward the kid and his mother and grinned cruelly before limping toward them quickly, making the best zombie noises I could. Given all the pain I was in, those zombie grunts sounded hella real. Like, The Walking Dead real. The lady's face was beyond priceless. That and the kid's overly girly scream. Honestly, I could've died right then and felt at peace. But alas, I did not, and the woman and child rushed down the street in a big commotion.

Best day ever.

Not.

Clenching my jaw, I curl my right hand into a fist while I use the other to shove open one of Stark's front doors. "Honey, I'm home." I quietly declare to myself, sarcasm practically dripping from each word. My facial expression is dead, cold, and tired. Frankly, I look like a psychotic robot myself. I mean, we're both fed up with the Avenger's crap, maybe wanted to smash some stuff, create a little damage, and murder a --

"You're dead!" My palm swiftly rises and smacks my forehead as I groan. The lady that was previously freaking out behind her desk managed to lift her eyes long enough to notice me. I sharply turn my head so that I'm looking at her.

"Really? I didn't even realize that! How could I ever have walked 8 blocks to get here if I were dead?" My rough voice sounds so shocked but my expression gives away the fact I'm not. I think woman.exe stopped working with all the tired sarcasm I'm radiating. She stands there looking in between horrified and ready to call the cops. You know, if her phone wasn't short-circuiting right now.

I let out a low huff and struggle past her desk and towards the elevator. Her eyes follow me the entire time. It's all too obvious that she isn't truly processing what's happening. Instead, she just lets her mouth hang open, a perfect target for flies. So it doesn't even surprise me when I hear her starting to choke on a fly.

My finger strikes the elevator's 'up' button as I silently chant 'please work' to myself. I'm delightfully surprised to find the elevator seems to still be in working order. Obviously, whatever happened once I fell had caused some sort of power outage. I'm just glad they had enough time while I was away to get it back up. However, after waiting a few minutes in the lobby for the elevator to arrive, listening to the lady continue to choke on the fly, I soon come to the realization that the elevator isn't working. Just the light behind the button is.

Just my luck, right?

Groaning in frustration, I tell myself I am not walking all those flights of stairs to get to the top floor. I would die after maybe five or six flights. So I hatch a rather far-fetched plan. I reach forward and place my palm flat against the elevator doors and let a surge of energy jump the wires of the elevator. I grunt when a considerable amount of energy passes out of my hand and into giving the elevator enough power to work.

Once the elevator drops to the lobby's floor, I trudge into it. I then turn and click the highest floor listed. From there, I lean back against the handrail that wraps around the inside of the metal elevator. I let my head hang heavily, my chin flush against my upper chest. The only thing alerting me that I have arrived at my destination is a small 'ding' as the doors slowly begin to creak back open. While the doors slowly open, I lift my head and prepare for the worst.

Hopefully, it isn't too bad.

Heads perk up and turn to the elevator only to see the last person they expected to be seeing so soon. Little ole me. The team looked to be having a chat up in the lab where a fried robot is laying out on a table. That could possibly be my fault...possibly. A puff of air passes by my lips as I struggle to move my feet, which feel like lead, out of the elevator.

My appearance is probably frightening in itself, to say the least. I must look like I just crawled out of a crack leading straight to hell. Gently, I lift one hand and rest it on my bicep of my opposite arm. "Surprise, you soggy biscuits. I'm not dead." I declare with a grumble, hoping they'll be able to make out my words through my gravelly accent. My nose twitches slightly and I turn my head towards the glass I had crashed out of not too long ago.

I hope they don't expect me to pay for that...

Then I shift my eyes back towards the elevated lab. I nearly jump as a brooding Thor and Iron Man storm towards me after descending a small flight of stairs. My breathing hitches and I swallow a forming lump in my throat. I'm probably about to get a serious beat down. And for what? Saving their tails? Hell no.

I suck up my fear and lift my chin, my eyes ablaze.

If they want to fight, I'll give them a fight.