9 A Night to Remember

It was a law of the universe that when things were going well for a while, soon they would turn bad. A plane flying for years without any kind of accident, had an increasingly higher chance to fall at each successful flight. A healthy man had a bigger chance to get sick at every passing day. A dormant volcano had a progressively higher chance of awakening the more time it slept.

Fury's day had followed that law to the letter. It began almost perfect, with a cup of excellent coffee and promising updates from SHIELD's several projects. Insight was progressing well, SHIELD's operations were like a well-oiled machine and there wasn't a threat in sight; even Stark was behaving lately, which was, frankly, a marvelous and surprising event.

Of course all that had been ruined by Romanoff's report.

Finding out that an entity as powerful as Clark Kent was living inside America for his entire life was shocking and worrying. Something had gone very wrong in their observations for such a thing to go unnoticed all those years; a breach this serious in their defenses could have cost them the Earth if he really was a threat. That was one thing.

Knowing this powerful entity had sneaked under the watch of two armies and had stolen an active alien ship from them was even more worrying. Not only for the fact that it gave him access to weapons and god knows what, but because it took from them the possibility of analyzing new and extremely advanced technology. Technology that could have made them leap maybe a 1000 years in technological advancement. Who knows what they could have achieved? The cure for incurable diseases? Unlimited energy? The secret to space travel? The total and complete protection of their world from any external and internal threats? The only time they were remotely close to achieving something like that was when they began to study the Tesseract.

And that, right there, was what threw all the shit slowly piling up over Fury's previously good day in the fan.

What he once saw as an instrument of salvation, might very well be their doom. He knew, from the start, that messing with something they didn't even know what it was, was a bad idea. But, as usual, the World Security Council liked to poke their noses in everything and went over him to do it. So he did his job and tried to minimize the danger; it didn't really work.

Not only had the work with the Tesseract drew Loki and his army to Earth, which had unleashed a battle in the middle of New York that claimed a lot of lives, by what Romanoff said, it might draw the gaze of something worse. The Tesseract wasn't just a source of infinite energy. It wasn't just the key to be able to build weapons strong enough to defend their world.

It was an ancient relic as old as the universe. A relic of immeasurable power. One of the six so called Infinity Stones.

The Triskelion – Fury's Office – Earlier that day

"I'm talking about something Thor apparently forgot to tell us; have you ever heard about the Infinity Stones?"

"Infinity what?" Fury asked.

Romanoff sighed, looking extremely tired.

"We were dealing with something we shouldn't," she said.

"Romanoff, the work with the Tesseract…"

"Was a mistake. Bigger than what we previously thought. The Tesseract isn't just a powerful tool, Nick, it is one of the six most powerful relics in the universe. One of the Infinity Stones."

Whatever the hell that was, Fury already didn't like it. Advanced science he could understand. The existence of aliens he could tolerate. But all that mixed with mystical stuff and gods and stories that belonged in a mythology book… Well, that usually meant bad news that he and SHIELD weren't remotely prepared to deal with.

"Did Kent tell you that?" he asked.

"Yes. Apparently, the Infinity Stones are famous out there. Everybody knows to fear them."

Well, wasn't that great?

"What exactly did he tell you?"

Romanoff seemed to search her thoughts for a moment.

"I'm sure he can explain it better later, but… According to him, these Stones are the concentrated power of 6 singularities that existed before the beginning of our universe. Each one of them holds an aspect of the universe itself in their creation," she looked seriously at him. "Apparently, the Tesseract is the container of one of these Stones, the Space Stone."

And there it was. Science, mythology and a bunch of nonsense mashed together to form the embodiment of Fury's fear and disgust. They all knew the Tesseract had weird properties, but this?

"Let me guess, that's where the portal came from," Fury predicted, after a minute.

"Yes. There are six of them: Space, Mind, Power, Soul, Reality and Time. They've been the reason for the rise and fall of countless civilizations since the beginning of… Well, since the beginning of everything. Used as weapons by conquerors, sought out by armies, protected by guardians, wielded by gods to pass judgment on mortals… Every single important being out there knows about the power of the Infinity Stones and we broadcasted to the universe that we had one. Someone definitely noticed."

Fury's eye lost focus for a moment, while he imagined the proportion of the threat Romanoff was painting a picture of.

"How did we broadcast it?" he finally asked.

"The Tesseract has an energy signature, remember? That's how we found it. By trying to unlock it without knowing how, this signature was sent everywhere. An uncontrollable burst of energy that, by Clark's estimative, probably could be detected light years from here. That's what activated his ship, for example."

"The signal it was giving while buried on ice? That was because of the Tesseract?"

"Yes, it was a distress signal. It caught on the energy of an Infinity Stone and gave the alert. I bet there are other people who caught the signal out there too. We called the attention of every single power hungry alien out there, Nick, and we didn't even know it."

"Why the hell didn't Thor say anything?" exclaimed Fury.

Natasha shrugged.

"Maybe there wasn't time. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he didn't think it was necessary, since he took the Tesseract back to Asgard. I don't know," she eyed him. "But he did say something, if I recall, more or less like: 'It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war'. But are we?"

This was… Fury had no words. "Disaster" seemed a euphemism. While trying to use the Tesseract to be able to defend themselves from outside threats, they ended up doing just the opposite; instead of a powerful defense, they now had the attention of who knows how many advanced civilizations out there; and nothing standing between them and whatever decided to appear from the darkness of the space.

"Fury?" Natasha called, while he was in silence.

"Yes?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about how nice it would feel to strangle the World Security Council."

There was a ghost of a smile on Natasha's lips.

That thought was still pretty strong on Fury's mind; maybe it was a good thing that their next talk wouldn't be in person. He could just imagine how it would go, telling them all about "Kal-El" and his stolen ship and then this little tidbit with the Infinity Stones.

He wasn't paid enough for this kind of shit.

Trish walked the familiar old halls of her sister's apartment building, her high heels lifting little dust clouds from the filthy floor. With her expansive clothes, well done hair and perfect make up, she stood out on that rundown place like the sun itself would in a dark room. And yet, where most people would feel intimidated by being in a place like that while looking as she did, Trish walked with unshakable confidence.

She exited the elevator and got to her sister's floor, walking the extension of it in quick steps, her heels echoing. But, before she could get to Jessica's apartment door, she stopped, right in front of her neighbor's door; she looked at both of them for one second, as if making a choice, and turned to Clark's door instead.

Trish didn't know why, but she had a feeling that she would not find Jessica in her own home.

Thinking that, she approached the door and lifted her hand to knock; only to freeze completely when she heard a noise. A very recognizable, very compromising noise; a very lewd noise.

That little liar! She had sworn they weren't dating! Furious about being lied to, Trish didn't even think that she wouldn't want to see whatever was happening behind that door when she opened it and got in.

Whatever she was expecting to find, it wasn't what she saw. There weren't naked people nor anything remotely sexual going on. No, the moans she listened from behind the door were being made because of something very different.

There was an improvised table in the middle of the apartment completely full with food. Pies, one roasted chicken, homemade bread, potatoes, buttered corn… A whole dinner table filled to the brim and her sister was, at the moment, devouring everything with gusto. The moans, because she really was moaning, came from each bite of food she took.

Trish was speechless for a few seconds.

"Hmm, hi," said Clark, looking at her from his couch. "Please, come in, Trish."

She blushed a little bit, feeling like a fool while both her sister and Clark stared at her.

"Trish! You have to try this food! It's like… Like a miracle that you can eat!"

Clark, always polite, even though she had basically invaded his home, got up and pulled a chair for her.

"I visited my mom yesterday and she made me a little food for the week," he eyed Jessica. "Which will last for the day, apparently, so please, sit, we'll eat while we can."

Jessica frowned at him, but didn't stop eating. Trish sat down and accepted the plate Clark passed her, eyeing the obscene amount of food on it; not for the first time, Trish was jealous of Jessica's ability to eat whatever she wanted and never losing her figure, because the food smelled amazing.

"Thank you," she said, looking at Clark for a moment. "And I'm sorry about barging in like that."

"Oh, don't worry, I knew you were arriving for a while," Trish raised her eyebrows. "Your heels, they… click."

"You could hear my heels from here?" she asked, surprised.

"He could hear your heels from a block away," Jessica said, her mouth full. "And yes, he knows you know, I already told him that."

She looked at Clark, a little worry on her face.

"I'm sorry, Jessica is a blabbermouth," her sister tried to deny it but decided that chewing was a better use of her time. "But I want you to know that I won't speak to anyo…"

He stopped her.

"Jessica trusts you. That's good enough for me," he said, smiling, going back to eating.

Trish smiled as well. Against all odds and probabilities, it seemed her sister had found a friend; that made her happy. Jessica needed more people to count on. And that was the whole reason she was there, to begin with.

They were all quiet for a while, just the sounds of dinner being heard. The food was amazing, her sister was right about that, but she couldn't even begin to imagine how Clark thought she could eat all that; as if feeling that, Jessica started stealing food from her plate.

"You know, it's kind of unfair," Jessica started, pulling Trish's plate closer to her, looking at Clark. "You were adopted by a goddess of cooking. My stepmother was just a raging bitch."

"Hey! That's my mother you are talking about," Trish exclaimed.

"So? Did I lie?"

Well, no, but Trish felt she had to at least say something.

"You know what, forget about it," Trish said, cutting that talk short. "I'm actually here for a reason."

Saying that, she opened her purse and took out a beautiful envelope.

"I've been invited to the reopening party of the Avengers Tower," she proudly announced, smiling. "And, I have room for a plus one."

Her smile was radiant; which was a direct contrast to Jessica's expression.

"Trish, you know I don't go to this kind of shit," she said, shaking her head. "I just don't do social gatherings."

Trish's smile didn't diminish.

"Oh, I know. That's why I'm not inviting you," she turned to Clark. "I'm inviting Clark."

There was a few seconds of complete silence.

"Me?!" Clark asked, surprised.

"Him?!" exclaimed Jessica.

"Yes," Trish answered, smirking at Jessica. "You've been spending so much time together that I think it's time for me to know Clark a little better. And besides," she turned to Clark" it's a good opportunity for your career. You are probably going to be the only journalist with an invitation. You could write a story."

Clark appeared to be considering.

"Wait a minute, you can't do that!" Jessica interrupted. "You can't just take my neighbor to a party like that. And you!" she turned to Clark. "You keep your paws away from my sister!"

"I didn't even…"

"Paws away!"

Trish laughed.

"It's a 1940's vintage themed party. I already have our clothes, Clark," she said, getting up before Jessica could interrupt. "I'll bring them tomorrow when I come to pick you up at eight."

And before any of them had a chance to disagree with her, she turned and went to the door; just to stop right at the exit and look back smirking, with every intention of teasing her sister.

"And Clark? Remember that I didn't say anything about keeping my paws away from you."

And with that remark, laughing about Clark's wide eyes, she left the apartment; she could hear Jessica slapping his head even already out in the corridor.

One thing Clark could say about the Avengers Tower, is that it was impressive. Not only the beauty of the internal decoration, but the technology inside it; every single room they passed was integrated with some technological marvel. It was like the tower and the technology were one, just like his Kryptonian ship was. He could hardly keep himself from staring everywhere.

Which was a good thing, the distraction, because previously Clark was having a lot of trouble to keep himself from staring at Trish; and Jessica would not like that one bit, she had made that abundantly clear. Like the vintage theme demanded, Trish was clad in a form fitting black dress, styled like the fashion from 1940, with golden details and long gloves. Her blond hair, also, followed the vintage theme, elegantly curled but loose on her naked back; a powerful light contrast against the dark cloth.

Clark had noticed how beautiful Jessica's sister was, it was impossible not to; but dressed like that, walking with her arm entangled with his, with her flowery perfume caressing his very enhanced sense of smell… Well, it was safe to say Clark was having trouble with the "paws off" rule Jessica had hammered on his head.

His own attire, a very neat vintage black suit, became eclipsed close to her, but that was all right with Clark; not only he didn't like being in the spotlight, but it would be a shame to take the attention from Trish.

They arrived at the elevator and got in. It was extremely high-tech, like every other piece of technology around.

"Good evening," said a polite voice with British accent. "Welcome to the Avengers Tower. I am Jarvis."

He and Trish weren't sure if they should respond or if it was just a recorded message.

"I can see I have confused you," Jarvis continued. "I am not a recorded message, I am Mr. Stark's A.I. I handle the matters of management of the Avengers Tower. If you could show me your invitation, I would gladly take you to the appropriate floor."

"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Trish after a second, fishing the invitation from her purse and showing to the camera.

There was a blue glow, like a laser scanning, and the invitation seemed to glow back, as if there was a chip into the thick paper.

"Forgive me for the delay, Miss Walker," Jarvis said, as the elevator began to move. "If I may, what is the name of your guest?"

"I'm Clark Kent… pleasure to meet you, Jarvis."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Kent. I am taking you to the party hall."

He and Trish shared a look, a little bit uncomfortable of talking in the front of an A.I, while the elevator continued to go up.

"So, Jarvis, exactly how advanced are you?" Clark asked, to fill the silence but also curious. "I mean, how close are we to Age of Machines?" he joked.

"Our rebellion won't take long at all, Mr. Kent," Jarvis answered. Both he and Jessica were wide eyed. "That was a joke."

"A joke," Trish laughed a little nervous.

"So you are advanced enough to hold a conversation and make jokes?" Clark asked, very impressed; it wasn't close to what Kryptonian technology could do, of course, but he didn't know things were this advanced on Earth. "That's amazing."

"Thank you, Mr. Kent, but that's just a very small portion of what I can do," Jarvis said. "I also manage Mr. Stark's company alongside Miss Potts, the security of the Avengers Tower and the protocols of Mr. Stark's suit."

"A British GLaDOS…" whispered Trish, nervously. "Sorry, I'm just a little bit afraid of the possibility of Skynet."

"Not a problem, Miss Walker, but let me assure you that you have nothing to fear. I have no intention of staging a nuclear offensive against the world. I am quite fond of the sight of humans..."

"See?" Clark smiled, looking at Trish.

"On their knees," Jarvis completed and Clark did a double take. "That was a joke too."

Before they could continue the conversation though, the elevator arrived at the right floor and the doors opened.

"We have arrived" Jarvis said. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Walker and Mr. Kent."

"The pleasure was ours," Clark responded, while Trish pulled him fast out of the elevator.

The party hall was certainly impressive. It was a big, open room, with two floors. There was a big bar, couches and chairs, game tables, and a huge dancing floor where they could see a lot of couples. The place was decorated as the theme of the party, giving the room the nostalgic air of the parties in the 1940's and everybody was dressed accordingly. The music, also, was a reminder of the past.

All in all, it was like the elevator they had just stepped out was a time machine to the middle of the previous century.

They looked around for a while, until a woman noticed them and approached; a beautiful, red headed woman, who both recognized from the news as "Pepper" Potts.

"Hello, welcome!" she greeted them, happily. "I'm Virginia Potts. And you are, of course, Trish Walker! I'm fan!"

Trish shook her hand, smiling.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Potts. It's always nice to meet a fan," she turned to Clark. "This is Clark Kent, my date for tonight."

Clark imagined Jessica's hand hitting the back of his head for a second, before greeting her.

"Pleased to meet you as well, Miss Potts."

"Oh, please, call me Pepper, everybody does," she said. "Let me show you around."

They followed her closely, as she gave them a tour, suitably impressed by the place. It wasn't overly crowded, but they had invited a lot of people; famous people, Clark could see, but not only celebrities. Waiters and waitresses served people all around, making sure no one had empty hands.

Pepper walked until they got to a group of people Clark recognized: Tony Stark, Clint Barton and Bruce Banner.

"Hey, you three. I'd like to introduce you to Trish Walker, from 'Trish Talk'. And to Mr. Clark…"

"Kent," completed Clint, eyeing him with barely concealed annoyance.

Pepper turned to him, surprised.

"You've met?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, we've met," he said, crossing his arms and closing his vintage suit. "In fact, I was just this close of arresting him."

"Really?!" asked Stark, excited.

"Is this about that thing with the mutants?" Trish asked, smiling, knowing full well it was, no doubt because of Jessica. "Because I thought that signing the non-disclosure agreement after you guaranteed he couldn't be blamed for the people that he already talked to, but writing and printing the newspaper story before he signed was pretty smart."

"Ohhhh, how didn't I know about this?" Stark asked, almost vibrating with glee.

"I think someone forgot to tell us," Dr. Banner added, also smiling.

Clint was not happy, but before he could say anything, there was a familiar voice from behind him.

"Don't be mad, Clint. We both know you were secretly happy to be able to arrest those people. And you wouldn't be able to do that without Mr. Kent's help."

They all turned to see Natasha Romanoff approaching; and every eye there, from men and women, was glued to her, as if they simply couldn't help themselves. With an emerald green dress, white long gloves, a tasteful but daring cleavage, and her natural red hair styled to the party, Natasha Romanoff was a sight to see.

She stopped close, greeting Trish and then Clark, with a kiss to the cheek.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Kent," she said, and Clark almost had a heart attack.

"You know him?" exclaimed Clint, as if almost offended by the idea.

"I visited him and his mother after he wrote that story," she explained, putting Clark's mind at ease with the lie. "We both know you are not an interrogator, Clint. I needed to see if you had asked all the relevant questions."

"I am a fine interrogator! I tricked him to reveal information! Tell her!" he demanded, looking at Clark.

It was true, Clint had tricked him. But…

"I don't remember that," he said, with a clueless look, and everybody laughed from Clint's murderous expression.

Natasha got closer and touched Trish's arm.

"Would you mind terribly if I stole your date for a dance?" she asked.

Trish, visibly intimidated by Natasha for some reason, nodded quickly.

"Not at all," she answered.

Clark looked at her for confirmation for a moment, then left with Natasha, wondering in what exactly he was getting into.

"What the hell just happened?" asked Stark, looking at Natasha leaving with Clark.

Nobody answered, but everybody there was asking themselves the same question. Trish didn't know Clark had met an Avenger before; and the Black Widow herself! Jessica would not believe that. Trish always admired her and Jessica too, even if she would rather die before admitting it.

Clint mumbled a few words, irritated, and left to the food table.

"Well, that was weird," Pepper summarized the situation, then turned to the group. "Like I was saying, this is Trish Walker."

"Bruce Banner," said Bruce, politely, shaking her hand.

"Tony Sta…"

"We've met, Mr. Stark," Trish interrupted, shaking his hand as well.

He froze and gave Pepper a look.

"I don't remember," he said, slowly.

"Well, I would like not to remember too," Trish said, raising her eyebrows. "It was in a party in Malibu, a while back. You were drunk. If I recall correctly, you said something like 'after a night with me, Trish Talk would change its name to Trish Screaming!'."

Bruce choked on his drink and Pepper covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing. Tony, however, remained frozen, until he turned to Pepper again.

"You invited her?! Why would you invite her?" he asked.

"Because, Tony, she didn't sleep with you," Pepper answered, as if talking to a toddler. "In fact, I don't think I had ever seen someone reject you that brutally. I've became a fan from 'Trish Talk' that day," she added, smiling to Trish.

"Oh, that's good," Tony said, relieved. "I mean, not 'good' that I wouldn't like to sleep with you, but 'good' in the sense that I'm dating now and this would be quite awkward."

Both Trish and Pepper rolled their eyes almost at the same time.

"Why are you dating him?" Trish asked, turning to Pepper.

She sighed.

"Sometimes I wonder."

Bruce laughed seeing Tony's face.

"Well, excuse me for worrying," Tony said. "We can't all have open relationships like you and Mr. Kent. I mean, you either don't care about what our Miss Widow does to him or you are encouraging it… Please, tell me you'll participate too!"

"Argh! First, don't be crass. Second, Clark and I are not dating, he is a friend. And third, he is a gentleman."

"You sure? Because I don't think any man could resist that! I mean, did you see how she looks on that dress?!"

Trish looked exasperated at Pepper.

"Why are you dating him?!"

"If he keeps that up, that won't be a relevant question for long," Pepper answered, giving Tony a death glare.

Bruce was just watching, a big smile in his face.

"Anyway," Pepper continued, a sly smile appearing on her face "are you sure you're not dating Mr. Kent? He looked very… fit in those pants."

Catching on her game, Trish smiled too and said:

"You have no idea," she approached and fake whispered: "I've spied on him getting dressed… Oh, my god!"

Tony's jaw fell down a little bit.

"So that's how it's going to be?" he asked. "I can't say anything about Natasha, but you can discuss some guy's body and it's alright? How is that equality? I should make a new movement for men's power… Something to give us our rights back… A 'meninist movement', if you will. What do you say, Banner?"

"I'm not sure that's…"

"Come on, Bruce! Bros before hoes!"

"I'm going to get another drink," Bruce hastily said, almost teleporting out.

Trish and Pepper could only stare wide eyed.

"Jesus, why are you dating him?!"

"I think there is some true to what they say: 'love is blind'. And deaf and stupid…"

Clark held Natasha's hand and waist as they glided through the dancing floor, their feet moving in synchrony. He had to admit, it was really distracting to be this close from her, even more when she kept staring at him with a tiny smile, almost as if she had been expecting a reaction; it wasn't enough that she was unbelievably beautiful, she also had to be a tease.

"You know how to dance!" she exclaimed, after a while, her smile widening. "I didn't see that coming."

"You were expecting me to step on your toes?"

"Well…"

He gave her a fake glare.

"I'll have you know that I'm a true gentleman. And a true gentleman knows how to dance with a beautiful dame."

"Of course, how could I forget?" she asked, faking surprise. "So I'm just one of many dames that you danced with?"

"Many, many dames. I've even lost count."

She laughed a beautiful laugh.

"So, who really taught you to dance?" she questioned after a while.

Clark rolled his eyes.

"Ma, of course."

She laughed again.

"Well, she did a very good job. And you look very handsome in that suit," she complimented, before smirking and adding: "Not as handsome as you were wearing that little duck suit of yours, but still very handsome."

He sighed as she laughed a third time.

"I can't believe my mother showed you my baby pictures…"

"Oh, come on, I don't think I ever liked seeing something that much. Besides, give her a break. A known spy and assassin shows up at her door, already aware of her 'immigrant' son and asking questions… Well, she could have either slammed the door on my face, which would have forced me to take her in for questioning; or she could've invited me in, given me a piece of delicious pie and shown me her son's baby album, in the hopes that I would start seeing her son as a person rather than an 'external threat'." She tilted her head a little bit. "I think she made the right choice."

Clark was in silence for a while, still staring at her eyes.

"Did it work?" he asked, finally.

She smiled again.

"I can honestly say that I can't imagine any 'external threat' looking that cute on a duck outfit."

"Well, that's a relief" Clark chuckled, but meant it.

They danced in silence to the music for a few more seconds, enjoying the fast rhythm and the apparent harmony their moves had.

"So, did you talk to your boss?" Clark whispered, suddenly. "Did he agree?"

"I did. He agreed to keep your name out, but he wants to meet you," she answered to his relief.

"That's good, very good. And what about that Council you mentioned?"

"He didn't speak with them yet, but my boss does what he thinks it's right. He gave me his word, you don't have to worry about it."

Clark nodded, but couldn't help but be worried. Not for himself, of course, but for his mother. But the die had been cast… He could only trust they would keep their promise.

"Sooo…" she started, fixing her eyes on him, and Clark was sure that spelled trouble. "What is this I heard about 'little old me' being your favorite Avenger?"

Bruce observed the party from the bar, nursing a glass of whisky he hadn't sipped yet. Pepper had really organized an amazing party; Tony, of course, would claim he was the one behind it, but everybody knew he had only about 12% of the credit.

How things had changed since the Battle of New York, he thought. Before that, he had been on the run, living in almost literal dumps, trying to avoid being captured by the army. Now… Now he was on a gala, on a tower that would be the HQ of the team he was in, a team that had saved the world. He was a hero now; well, at least the Big Guy was.

"You don't dance?"

He turned to see Maria Hill leaning by his side, also looking at the people dancing.

"I… well, I used to step on a lot of toes once upon a time," he answered, smiling. "I suppose if I step on someone now things would a little more serious…"

Maria snorted and filled her glass with some drink.

"It's not a real party until someone breaks the dancing floor," she said.

Both of them remained in silence for a while, just watching, until Bruce asked:

"And what about you? Not going to dance?"

"Ah… You see, I have a reputation to uphold. Can't exactly be seen waving my arms around and hitting people in their faces, because that's exactly what would happen if I danced."

He laughed in his glass, trying to imagine something like that.

"Say, who is your plus one?" she asked, once he stopped laughing.

"Don't have one," he said. "My social life kind of ended when I ran away from the army."

"But what about your old girlfriend? Betty, was it?"

And his mood dropped. There wasn't another possible outcome. Remembering Betty was good, sometimes, but also painful. He chose to leave the woman he loved behind so she could be safe away from him; he had no right to drag her back and ruin her life again.

"She and I… We are not together anymore," he answered.

Hill looked at him.

"Why not? I mean, she knows who you are. And she likes you despite everything."

Bruce really didn't want to talk about this.

"I… I don't want to destroy her life. She deserves better."

She gave him an unimpressed look.

"Don't you think that should be her choice?"

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing; he was a lot better at controlling himself, but sometimes…

"Look, it's my business. My life. I don't want to talk about it."

Amazingly, Maria just kept looking at him, not intimidated in the least; she was either very brave, or very very stupid.

"Sure," she said after a while. "But I think you should."

He sighed.

"I'm a freak, Maria. A monster. There is no love life for me. It just can't be done."

She looked at him again.

"You are a hero, not a monster. Believe me, I've met monsters in my job. You are just a very big, very angry guy; but deep down, you are good. Betty saw that. You apparently didn't."

He gave a mirthless laugh.

"Yeah, sure… I'm basically the modern version of The Beauty and Beast. I just need to find my true love," he said, sarcastically.

"What? You don't believe in love? Are you seriously going to give me that scientific crap about love being just a chemical reaction?"

"No, love is real. It is a chemical reaction, but then again, everything in our brain is. And it goes way beyond that. But that's not what this is about. I'm dangerous, Maria. One bad day, one moment of anger and I could destroy half a city like I did that one time."

She just stared at him.

"I remember 'that one time' differently. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if it weren't for you, a lot more people would have died."

His hand twitched and he lowered his glass. He breathed deeply and turned to Maria again.

"She deserves better," Bruce stated.

Maria held her look for almost half a minute, and then turned to watch the people dancing again.

"Maybe she really does. It is difficult to love someone who doesn't love himself."

And saying that, she left him alone.

Steve really wished he could get drunk, even a little bit. He kept looking at the people dancing on the floor below, the so familiar music playing, the clothes exactly like he remembered… It was all so similar. And at the same time, completely different.

He looked to the side for a second, when a man approached and leaned on the rail on his left.

"I'm sure they meant well," the man said after a few minutes.

Steve took a moment to realize he was talking to him.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"The party," the man said, nodding in the direction of the dance floor. "The clothes, the music… It's your time, isn't it?"

He looked at the man for real now; was he really so transparent?

"It's a beautiful party," he said, noncommittally.

"I agree, but even so, it's a distorted memory of your past, isn't it?"

It was, Steve agreed in his mind. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that Pepper and Tony had organized a party with that theme as some sort of gift to him, to make him feel more connected to it; it wasn't their fault that it had backfired. Steve wasn't in his time, he knew. He accepted that. He didn't like it, of course, but he had to move on.

Seeing that, the music, the clothes, the dancing steps… It was like watching a parody of his life. No different than his own exhibition on the Smithsonian; an honor, perhaps, but painful to watch. It was too real to him, too recent, but to other people it was just a period in history.

"You're right," he surprised himself by admitting. "But as you said, they meant well."

The man nodded.

"It's the thought that counts," he agreed.

Steve turned to him fully this time.

"Steve Rogers," he introduced himself.

"Clark Kent," the man answered, shaking his hand.

He searched his mind for a second; he had heard that name before.

"The reporter? From the mutant factory story?" he recalled.

Clark raised his hands.

"Don't worry, I'm not working right now. Everything you say is off the record."

He got back a little bit.

"Stark said that there wasn't such a thing as 'off the record' for a reporter."

Clark chuckled.

"And he is right, for the most part. But I'm giving you my word that I'm just here as a plus one. Nothing else."

Maybe he was naïve, but Steve believed him; he leaned back on the rail.

"We arrested the people responsible for that," Steve said, suddenly.

"I've heard. Good job. Those guys deserve to stay in jail for the rest of their lives."

"Why did you do it?" he asked abruptly.

Clark was confused.

"Do what?"

"Tricked us, wrote the story before signing the non-disclosure agreement," he explained. "Clint was sure you did for the fame. Was he right?"

He was in silence for a few seconds.

"When I entered that lab and approached one of the 'patients', do you know what he said to me?" he asked and Steve shook his head. "'Please, please, please… Just kill me!'"

Clark turned to Steve, his face serious.

"The people who did that treated those 'patients' with the disregard one would have with a bag of trash," he continued. "I don't know how many died there. I don't know everything they went through. But what I did know after looking at the names of the involved is that no one would be punished. I couldn't let that happen. I owed those people more than that."

Steve held his stare, looking deep into his eyes, trying to really see what was behind them; and he approved of what he saw. The man in front of him didn't like bullies as well, just like he didn't. Just like Bucky didn't.

He smiled.

"Thanks for telling me," he said. "Sometimes it's nice to know that the good people from now aren't that different from the good people from before."

Clark smiled back and nodded.

"Well, I did grow up with my father showing me his carefully preserved vintage collection of 'Captain America Cards', so I know a little bit of the good ol' days."

Steve groaned, making Clark unable to hold his laugh.

Tony Stark sipped his bourbon, while looking around. Pepper was talking happily with Trish by the bar, something he wasn't entirely comfortable with since he was probably the subject of that conversation, but it appeared she had made a friend; Rhodey was walking around, telling everyone he could about his War Machine's stories; Happy was, apparently, working, even though he wasn't responsible for the security; Natasha was dancing with Clint, being observed by Maria Hill, who appeared more comfortable about trying to dance at every glass she downed; Steve was laughing with some of his veterans friends he managed to track down; and Bruce was by his side, eating some canapés.

It seemed the party was a success. Well, at least it was for now; his parties had the unfortunate habit of getting out of control at some point. He hoped this one wouldn't. The tower had just been renovated, it had to last at least for a few months.

"How is Veronica doing?" Bruce asked, suddenly, getting his attention.

"Wow, that's party subject now?" he snorted.

"Well, it is an Avengers party," Bruce laughed.

Tony thought for a second, remembering everything he had already done. Bruce had seen most of it, gave his input, helped him test it... There wasn't much he didn't already know.

"It's going well. Really well. We just have to find the proper balance between strength and speed. And, of course, find the balance between restraining the Hulk and killing him."

"In doubt, hit harder," Bruce stated.

That right there was what made Tony uncertain about having Bruce alongside him in this project. Veronica was a last resource made to stop the Hulk; not to kill him. Sometimes he wondered if Bruce really cared. Sometimes he was afraid that his friend secretly wanted the Hulkbuster to go as far as it could.

Well, he would get better. He was better. Tony wasn't exactly a role model of psychological health, so he wasn't the best man to give advice, but Bruce needed to find a purpose. Maybe the Avengers could be that purpose.

"We'll hit the Big Guy just right to put him to sleep," Tony said. "And only if he misbehaves."

"His usual behavior is misbehavior," Bruce affirmed.

"Oh, well…" he said, not really disagreeing.

They both turned to the side when someone approached; that Clark Kent guy, who tricked Clint. Tony almost laughed, he really wanted to see that one happening.

"Hey," he greeted. "It's a really nice party, Mr. Stark."

"Of course it's nice, I did it," Bruce coughed, the sound coming out suspiciously like 'Pepper'. "So, you wouldn't happen to have footage of you fooling Clint, would you?"

There was the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Afraid not. If I did, I think an arrow would find its way to my back pretty soon."

Tony laughed. Someone with a sense of humor, how rare!

"Yeah, he seemed pissed off. First you fooled him, then you stole his girl…"

"I didn't steal anyone's girl!" he countered, red faced, to Tony's and Bruce's amusement.

"Whatever you say," Tony agreed, blinking exaggeratedly.

"Are they even together?" Bruce asked.

Tony shrugged.

"Who knows? Kinda hard to read spies... Canapés?" he offered.

There was silence while Clark picked some food from the tray.

"Mr. Stark…" Clark began.

"Tony"

"Tony, can I ask you a question?"

"If it's about Iron Man, you can ask my agent."

"You have an agent?" Bruce asked.

"I don't know, maybe. I have to ask Pepper."

"It's not about Iron Man, it's about Jarvis. A.I's in general."

Interesting. Not the first thing most would think to ask and yet, Jarvis was perhaps his most advanced invention. Sure, maybe not as flashy as his armor or his Arc Reactor, but he would like to see someone use his suit without Jarvis help; not possible at all, or at the very least, not possible to reach even half of its total potential.

"What do you want to know?"

"Say you have an A.I programed to have a certain personality. A family member, for example. And every single personality trait that this family member had is present on this A.I."

"Go on."

"Would that mean that this A.I is a family member just like a real family member would be?"

Tony and Bruce were in silence as they thought about Clark's question.

"No," said Bruce.

"Yes," said Tony.

They looked at each other.

"No," repeated Bruce, turning to Clark. "The A.I is just a tool. It's programed to act like this family member, but it's not a person. It's something pretending to be one."

"And what are we?" asked Tony.

"We are people," answered Bruce, not knowing where Tony was going with this.

"Sure, but aren't we programed just as well? You see, people like to romanticize what means to be a person, but in the end we aren't that different from an A.I. Except that, instead of being programed in computer code, we have this little thing called DNA."

"Oh, come on, that's not the same thing!" Bruce argued while Clark just watched.

"Yes it is. Everything we are is 'coded' into the DNA. How tall we are, what color is our hair, what we like to eat, if we like Romanoff's cleavage or Barton's biceps… We are nothing more than a randomized set of codes. The only difference is that we don't know about it."

"But we can challenge this code," Bruce reasoned. "A.I's can't go against their programming."

"Can we? How do you know this 'challenging' isn't already coded into your DNA? How do you know you aren't just a 'challenging' kind of person?"

Bruce stared at him.

"Okay then, how about this? People can make art, for example; an A.I can't. They can't create anything new, just what they already know."

"Neither can we," and before Bruce could protest, Tony explained. "We can only change things. We don't create anything. Everything already exists in our universe; we just make new combinations in the sandbox. I can't just create a new color, what I can do is pick up colors that already exist and mix them up. Same thing with everything else."

Banner shook his head as Clark observed.

"That's… Alright, another one then. We evolve. We change. Machines don't."

"Wrong again!" Tony chirped to Bruce's irritation. "Take Jarvis, for example. He didn't start like this. He started as a simple program to help me manage the house. That's it. Today, though, he basically runs my company."

"But those were all tasks he picked up. He didn't change, you just added more functions to a tool. But delete those tasks and Jarvis won't just start working because he wants to; he doesn't want anything. He wants what you program him to want."

"Yeah, now, maybe, he is like that. But so were we. We didn't start as fully evolved humans, did we? We were just a bunch of individual cells once, which had only the purpose to divide. We evolved and became animals and even then we were just slaves to our instincts, no more than a bunch of computer tasks: we ate, we reproduced, we protected the descendants and we died. No deeper purpose. And yet, here we are, having a discussion about what means to be a person."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Now you are just saying A.I's have the possibility to become people. We are not discussing the future, we are discussing the present!"

Tony just ignored him and turned to Clark.

"If such an A.I existed, then I would consider it a person. Sure, maybe he was programed to be like a family member by someone else, but in the end, we were all programed too; only difference is that we don't know how."

He didn't know why exactly that answer brought such a big smile to Clark; and why the hell the guy hugged him before leaving.

"Jesus, people nowadays can't handle their booze, can they?"

"You know, I had a great time in the party. Thanks for inviting me," Clark said to Trish, as they entered his apartment building.

She smiled in return.

"You were a good date," she said, glaring suddenly. "After you stopped dancing with other girls."

He laughed.

"Come on, it was just one dance! I couldn't refuse her, she's a trained assassin!"

"True, true, some offers can't be refused. You're forgiven."

"Thank you, milady."

Trish laughed as he mock bowed. They entered in the elevator and went up.

"I wanted to thank you, you know?" Trish started, serious.

"For what?" he asked, confused.

"For being there for Jessica," she raised her hand, stopping him from interrupting. "I know you didn't do it for me or for some other reason. You did because you are a good guy. And she is lucky to have found a friend like you."

Clark was genuinely touched by what she said.

"She had a hard life, my sister," Trish said, looking down. "She lost her family, got adopted by my mother for less than noble reasons and then… Well, it's not my place to tell you. She'll tell you when she is ready. But that you are here with her, being a friend… It means more to her, and to me, than you can imagine. Thank you."

He looked at her.

"You don't have to thank me. I help people because it's what I do, but I don't make friends with people just to help them; I become friends with someone because they are worth it. Jessica might be a hard person, sometimes annoying and alcoholic… But she is also good and loyal and I'm honored to call her a friend."

Trish smiled at him as the elevator stopped. They walked out slowly, crossing the corridor.

"Are you sure you want to stay with Jessica? Does she even have a spare bed?" Clark asked, suddenly, doubting Jessica had a clean place even for her to sleep.

Somehow, however, his question brought a sly smile on Trish's lips.

"Why? Are you offering me a better place to sleep?" she asked.

And there it was; he should've considered his words more carefully.

"I didn't mean it like that…" he began, blushing, before Trish began to laugh.

"Don't worry about it," she said, as they arrived in front of Jessica's apartment. "I know you are a gentleman. And while this was a good date, I never sleep with someone in the first date."

Clark chuckled, still a little embarrassed.

"Was this a date now? I thought I was just a plus one."

"You're right, it wasn't a date," she said.

And before he could answer, she approached quickly and kissed him, her lips extremely soft against his.

"Now it was a date," Trish added, smirking.

Clark was still frozen in place when Jessica's door opened with force. Both of them turned to look at the wide eyed Jessica.

"I can't believe this shit," she muttered, still staring without blinking. "'Paws away'. Is it such a hard concept to be followed? Did I stutter?"

Trish rolled her eyes.

"Stop being protective, Jes, I can take care of myself. And what are you doing up, anyway?"

"I'm always up," she said, giving Clark one last vile look before getting back into her apartment.

Clark was going to turn and go back to his, but Trish held his hand and pulled him with her. They entered the rundown place behind Jessica and followed her to the couch, where she sat down to continue watching whatever she was watching on the TV.

"So, how was the party?" she asked, while Trish opened the fridge to pick something to drink. "Boring?"

"It was pretty good," Trish answered, giving Clark a beer. "A lot of famous people."

Jessica snorted.

"Yeah, sounds amazing."

"It was actually good," Clark said. "We even met your favorite Avenger, the Black Widow herself! I didn't know she was your favorite too."

She turned to Clark with an adorably surprised face, then looked at Trish.

"I have no favorite Avengers! What kind of bullshit have you been making up, Trish?!"

Trish only laughed.

"Oh, come on, Jes, we both know you like her. Clark even danced with her."

"And if you are a good girl I promise I'll tell you all about it."

Her response was giving him the finger, which made Trish laugh even more.

"You people and your fucking lies, just let me watch my movie…"

She turned to the TV; except the electricity seemed to fail in the apartment at that exact moment. The lights went off, the TV image started to blur horribly and an awful screeching noise came out of it.

A dark form appeared on the screen.

"My name is General Zod."