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“This looks a lot like Rand Enterprises.” “No shit, Danny, every building owned by rich people looks the same.” “Uh, no? This is at least more tasteful than the places Goldman Sachs owns.” “You’ve been to-? Actually, you know what, I don’t care. Just shut up, Danny.” Stepping into Stark Avengers Tower is a strange experience. There’s no one in the lobby, just a set of elevators, and Luke’s trying to figure out where the receptionist is when the ceiling starts talking , and sweet Christmas, he does not like that. “Greetings, Mr. Cage, Ms. Jones, Mr. Murdock, Mr. Rand, and Mr. Castle. How can I be of assistance?” Matt jumps into a defensive pose, Danny looks up, and Frank’s hand immediately goes to what Luke guesses is a gun concealed in his waistband. Luke and Jessica meet each other’s eyes, communicating a silent ‘What the hell?’ Jessica answers the question with two of her own. “Who the fuck are you? How do you know who we are?” “I am JARVIS, the personal AI of Mr. Stark. As the security system for the tower, one of my duties is to identify and determine the intention of any individual that enters the building. I have access to almost every online database on the planet, including those of most police forces. Each of you has been photographed or recorded at one or more police stations, and facial recognition has allowed me to verify your identities.” “Cool, I’m talking to a robot. That’s not creepy,” Jessica mutters. “Ms. Jones, I’m an AI, not a robot. The sophistication of my systems is far beyond that of the average robot,” the ceiling says, and does it sound offended? It kind of sounds offended. “Alright, whatever. We’re here because Barton said we could be here,” Jessica tells the empty air, rolling her eyes. “Very well. Give me a moment to confirm your access to the Avengers’ communal areas,” the ceiling (Jarvis?) says, and while they wait, Luke wanders around, trying to figure out how exactly the AI works. “I have confirmed with both Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton that you may enter the building, and those on the Avengers’ floors have been alerted to your arrival. Please enter the second elevator on your right. Mr. Murdock, may I inquire as to whether these directions are adequate?” “How do you even know I’m blind?” Matt snaps, and really, he’s a Catholic lawyer, and he can’t even be polite to a computer? Luke is questioning the man’s sanity. Though he also dresses up as a devil and beats people up, so… okay, maybe this is his normal. Who knows. “Once again, Mr. Murdock, I’m an advanced AI with access to police, public, and personal records. Your blindness is well documented. However, I do not know the exact nature of your abilities, so I am unable to come to a concrete conclusion as to how you perceive your surroundings.” Jessica and Danny have already started walking towards the elevator, so Luke follows, and he hears Frank’s heavy footsteps and Matt’s lighter ones behind him. Matt sighs. “Okay, I should have realized that. I can generally follow any directions you would give a sighted person, unless they’re color based. That isn’t something I can tell apart.” They pile into the elevator, and Luke’s honestly starting to wonder if this is real life. This is real, right? He’s not dreaming, or hallucinating, is he? “Noted. This elevator will take you to the Avengers’ communal areas. It is only accessible to those who have been approved by Mr. Stark, and will go into lockdown if any unauthorized individuals are detected. Going up.” The doors open in under a minute, which is truly unbelievable because Luke’s pretty sure they’re on one of the top floors of the tower and that was so fast, and Jessica leads them out and down the hall to a large open living room area. They’ve only had a moment to look around when the elevator dings. Frank’s hand goes back to his gun, and really? Is this going to be a thing? “Hey, you actually came! And wow, you actually managed to get ass-stick here! Thank fuck, too, because I really wanted to see that perky ass again,” Clint Barton says, and Luke is confused, because this guy is an Avenger? Really? Huh. Frank lowers his hand from his waistband. “Well, you offered booze, and even Catholic Guilt can’t refuse a good drink,” Jessica answers, and starts pointing to each of them in turn. “This is Luke Cage, Frank Castle, and Danny Rand, and you’ve already met Alter Boy.” Barton looks them each up and down, and Luke’s a little uncomfortable, but Barton just shrugs. “Cool, well, I think you’ll each find someone you can get along with here. Frank, you and ‘Winter is Coming’ will probably be best friends. Come on, everyone’s in the gym training if you want to meet the rest of the team.” Barton leads them down the hall, tossing open one of the doors and stepping through. “Hey, I brought the Avengers prequel, check ‘em out!” he calls out, and the people around the room turn to look at them, and Luke is seriously feeling out of place here now. Tony Stark is the first to approach them, ducking out of the boxing ring and walking towards them, arms out wide. “Welcome! Barton told me he invited an asshole that likes alcohol, is that you?” he asks, pointing at Jessica, and she nods. “Damn right. You better have some good whiskey, too, I’ve been drinking nothing but the cheap shit and I’m bored of it.” Stark almost looks like he’s in love. “You’re my new favorite. Alright, follow me, I think I’ve got something you’ll like.” He gestures to the doorway behind them, and Jessica follows him back out of the room, looking mostly at ease, and seriously? Is Luke the only one who feels out of his depth here? “Great, so, why are we here again? I was told to get my ass here or I wasn’t gonna like the results by one scary fucking lady, but now what?” Frank asks, and Luke’s glad that there’s someone here with even less tact than him. Barton shrugs. “I mean, just wander, check the place out, whatever. You’re not trapped here, you can leave, Terminator, but I figured you guys might also enjoy a new set of assholes to argue with and some cooler weapons to mess with. Seems a little boring to me, being a vigilante and just sulking at home all the time, but hey, I’m not you, I’ve got a personality. So do what you want. Me? I’m going to go kick another bird’s ass,” Barton says, and then he’s walking up to Sam Wilson and squaring up to spar. Luke glances at Frank, Matt, and Danny, looks around the room, and decides to just do it. He’s already here, might as well. So he heads to the corner Barton’s in, and starts walking around the room. It’s a huge room, and he’s impressed not just by all the heroes in the room, but also by the room itself. There’s a row of huge, expensive looking punching bags, three large boxing rings, a shooting range through another door, some kind of obstacle course, weightlifting equipment, and some weird climbing structures that reach the ceiling that Luke watches a teenager scale, touching the ceiling before jumping his way back down the structure, leaping from one little protrusion on the structure to another. Luke gets about a third of the way across the room when someone taps his shoulder, and he turns to see Captain America beside him. “Hey,” the Captain says, “I don’t think Tony or Clint bothered to introduce any of you, or any of us, for that matter. Steve Rogers.” “Luke Cage,” he says, and Rogers nods. “Nice to meet you. What do you think of the place, so far?” Rogers asks, and Luke shrugs. “Don’t know what to make of it, really. I feel out of my depth.” Rogers laughs. “Yeah, I get that. Would you be up to spar with me, or…?” “I don’t know how well I could keep up with a super soldier, I might not be as good as you’re hoping.” Luke’s also not sure how to feel about the fact that he’s just been asked to spar with Captain America, but he ignores those concerns. “Doesn’t matter, someone new is still someone new, and I have a feeling you’re wrong anyway. And please, just Steve. I’m not a fan of all the weird formalities.” “Alright. Steve then. Sure, why not. I’m here.” Steve looks way too happy about this, but Luke follows him over to an empty area, squaring up. This will be fun. Luke wanders off, and Danny takes that as his cue too, and decides to head straight for the row of punching bags. They look funky, and Danny’s willing to bet they’ve been specially engineered or something. One punch to the bag on the end proves Danny’s suspicion right, because the bag barely moves, and he’d started with a pretty decent swing. Danny tries a few more experimental punches before calling on the Fist, and then he starts slowly building up strength with his punches again, and it’s not until he hits it with a decent Fist punch that the bag actually swings with the force he would expect from a good hit on a normal bag. “That’s an interesting trick,” an appreciative voice says behind him. Danny turns, and it’s Bucky Barnes, arms crossed in front of him. “Not a trick, just energy,” Danny corrects, because he might be a little in awe of the people around him, but he might as well give them the right information. Maybe they’ll even believe him, too, they’ve probably seen even weirder shit. “Energy, huh? Like what, solar? Wind? Nuclear? Pop-tarts?” Bucky asks, and Danny laughs. “No, like chi. Life energy. But, to wield the Fist, you have to fight a dragon. I do like pop-tarts, though,” he adds, and this time Bucky laughs. “Yeah, pop-tarts are pretty good. Fruit tastes different than it used to, including artificial fruit flavors, but they’re still good. So, a dragon? Sounds like some Lord of the Rings shit to me, but I’m also a genetically modified organism, so I don’t think I get to talk.” Danny already likes this guy. Frank hesitates in the doorway, and so does Matt. “What the fuck are we doing here, Red?” Frank asks, and Matt shrugs. “Honestly? We’re here because Jones is terrifying. I don't know. I guess I’m going to walk around. I’m not going to be rude enough to just leave as soon as I arrived,” Matt says, and Frank sighs. “Fine. Yeah, okay. What could go wrong.” Frank heads towards the shooting range, because at least that he knows. Guns make sense. People? People are unpredictable, unreliable, and frustrating. Guns are consistent, non-judgemental. Frank can handle guns. When he gets into the shooting range, there’s only one other person in the room, and she’s on the furthest lane down, so Frank just looks at the wall of weapons (there’s even a bow and arrows, Jesus Christ), picks an old-fashioned, double-barrel shotgun and grabs some shells, then sets up at a lane three lanes down from Romanoff’s and starts shooting. He doesn’t bother putting on goggles or noise-cancelling headphones, partially because he doesn’t need them but mostly because he doesn’t trust these people enough to leave himself vulnerable like that. Frank doesn’t really get to use old-fashioned shotguns often, just because they’re impractical when you're going into a fast-paced, volatile situation, but he does enjoy the consistency of them, the two shots and then empty, reload, shoot, repeat. He’s gone through about 30 rounds when he realizes that Romanoff has stopped shooting, and he sets the shotgun down, turns to look, and finds her watching him in fascination. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen anyone use that piece, it’s not the most practical for battlefields,” she says, as casually as if she’s just commented on the weather. “Definitely not practical, but it’s steady, repetitive. There’s something nice about that, even if you can only do it in your downtime,” Frank says, and Romanoff nods. “Agreed. Natasha Romanoff. Just Natasha works though.” Natasha holds her hand out, and Frank steps forward, shaking her hand. “Frank Castle. Frank is fine.” “It’s nice to meet you, Frank. Are you thinking of coming back again? Because I’m not opposed to a shooting buddy. It’d be nice to have someone else who can appreciate a good gun,” she says, and Frank nods. He has a feeling that she might feel the same way about both guns and people as he does, and the idea really does sound nice. “Yeah, I think I can come back again.” When Frank walks away, Matt’s left in the doorway by himself, and he really doesn’t know what to do at this point. He partially just wants to leave, but he still doesn't want to seem rude. He finally settles on just exploring the weird structures he’s sensing in the middle of the room, because he can’t actually figure out what they are, and it’s bothering him. He walks up to the one without someone on it, and places a hand against it, feeling the vibrations from the ground caused by everyone walking around, and it helps give him a better picture of what it is, but it’s still not great. It’s a weird shape, twisting and winding its way up to the ceiling, but there’s little bits of it that seem to be sticking out, and he seriously doesn’t know what it’s supposed to be. He’s still trying to figure it out when he hears someone walking up behind him, and he turns, head tilted to the side. “What can I do for you?” Matt asks, and the person stops abruptly. “Dude, did you feel me coming up behind you? Wait, are you kind of like me? Do you have like spider senses or something? Because if you do, that’d be cool, but also weird, because I thought I was the only one,” the person says, and Matt’s confused. “Spider senses? Like Spider-man?” The person’s heartbeat picks up speed. Excited? “Yeah, that’s me! Oh, uh, Mr. Stark says I need to get used to using my actual name with other heroes. Peter Parker,” he says, and Peter makes some kind of hand gesture? Matt’s not sure. “Nice to meet you, Peter. I think Jones and Stark are going to get along great, because they definitely sound pretty similar. Daredevil, or Matt Murdock.” There’s a pause, and Matt doesn’t understand why, and then there’s another hand gesture, and oh, he was probably holding his hand out, oops. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were holding your hand out,” Matt says, holding his own hand out this time, and Peter hesitates for a second before taking it, and then it seems to don on him. “Oh! You’re blind! Okay. Sorry! Also, wait, so you do kind of have spidey senses! Probably? Maybe? Right?” Matt tilts his head to the side. “I don't know what ‘spidey senses’ are, but I have enhanced hearing, taste, smell, and touch, so if that’s how ‘spidey senses’ work, then yes.” “Oh. No, mine just let me know if there’s danger, or like possible threats I guess? But I don't have that, but that’s cool! Doesn’t it get overwhelming though? That probably gets overwhelming.” Right now, Matt just thinks Peter is a little overwhelming, but that’s alright, Matt’s dealt with more annoying people that had worse intentions. “So, tell me about you! You’re a whiskey person. Barton seems to think you’re pretty cool. What else? Cool powers? Anything fun? Oh, and what’s your name?” Tony leads Jessica to the dining room, walking over to an actual alcohol display case (this guy seriously likes alcohol, apparently), and pours both of them a good amount of whiskey. “Jessica Jones, private investigator. I’m strong. I’m only fun if you just came from a funeral, but at least I’m not a lawyer, they’re fucking boring.” Jessica takes the glass Tony offers her, giving the drink a sniff before tossing it back in one shot. Tony laughs and takes a more casual drink of his own, and holds the bottle out to Jessica so she can pour her own. She fills the glass to the top, and hands him back the bottle. “Actually, you already seem pretty fun to hang out with, so I think you’re underselling yourself. But what do you mean by strong? That can mean a lot of different things.” “Strong, as in I can lift a car with my bare hands, and I can lift the back of a car and prevent it from going anywhere, even if you floor the gas.” Tony sets down both the whiskey bottle and his own drink. “Interesting. Sounds a lot like Patriot and Cyborg back there. Does that impact your metabolism? Do you, I don't know, need more food than normal, or need more alcohol than normal to get drunk, and do the effects not last as long?” “Whoa, slow the fuck down, I’m not your fucking science project,” Jessica says, and Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, you’re right, rude of me. Change of subject. What’s up with your team back there? Because you all seem almost as crazy and chaotic as we are, and if that’s the case, then you guys definitely need to hang out here more, because I’m always accepting other annoying assholes, that’s kind of the cornerstone we built the Avengers on.” Jessica shrugs, chugging the rest of her whiskey and leaving the empty glass beside Tony’s still partially filled one. “We’re just a bunch of idiots trying to help other idiots. I don’t really want to do it, but at this point, everyone and their dog thinks that I’m supposed to be able to help them because I’m some kind of freak. I just want to expose rich people that can’t keep it in their Armani pants and buy alcohol, but now I’m stuck in this Twilight Zone fuckery, so.” Tony looks like he’s going to answer, but a voice from the ceiling interrupts. “Sir, Dr. Banner is coming down from his lab. Should I advise him of the current happenings on the floor?” “Yeah, tell him that me and one of the new people are coming to meet him at the elevator. Shall we, Ms. Jones?” Tony asks, and when Jessica nods he leads the way to the elevator. The doors open, and a dog comes stepping out of the elevator, looking left and right, and stops to watch Jessica for a moment before going back into the elevator, this time coming out with a nervous looking man beside it. “Brucie! This is Jessica Jones. Jessica, this is Bruce Banner,” Tony introduces, and Bruce holds out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bruce says, and Jessica shakes his hand. “Same to you, I guess? I don’t actually know much about you. I also didn’t know you had a dog?” “This is Smash,” Bruce says, “And I think the other dogs are around here somewhere, aren’t they?” “Other dogs?” Jessica’s maybe a little worried by just how excited Tony looks when she asks that. “Hold on, I’ll have Jarvis call them! J?” “The dogs are on their way, Sir,” the ceiling says, and Jessica’s still not used to that, but she’s a little more preoccupied by the sudden rush of fur and paws barreling out of another room down the hall towards them. Sparring with Steve is a lot of fun, Luke discovers, and he actually holds his own better than he thought he would. They’re taking a short break, Steve having offered him some water from a small refrigerator in the corner of the room, and just as they’re about to start up again, there’s a shouted “incoming!” from the doorway, and then there’s a rush of activity as five dogs come running into the gym, tearing off in different directions. “Verity!” Steve calls, and a yellow blur rushes towards them, slamming into Steve’s chest and knocking the man to the ground. Steve laughs, trying to push the dog off. “Okay, okay, easy girl!” the dog, presumably Verity, climbs off of him, and walks over to sniff Luke’s hand, giving it a quick lick before going back to Steve, running in circles around him. “So, this is normal then?” Luke asks, and Steve nods. “Yeah, it’s starting to become pretty normal. Natasha decided to start getting everyone service dogs.” Steve scratches Verity behind the ears. “They were all taking a break while we were in here, but I guess this is our cue that it’s time to call it a day.” Another dog runs up to Luke, an all white dog, and sniffs Luke’s hand. Luke watches as the dog runs back to the doorway, nudging the hand of a man beside Tony and Jessica, and then the man steps into the room, looking around. “Time for lunch, folks!” Tony calls, and, like kids coming in after recess, everyone just stops what they’re doing, heading for the door. “You coming?” Steve asks, and Luke turns to look at him. “Probably not. Wouldn’t want to intrude.” Steve shakes his head. “You wouldn’t be intruding at all.” “It’s fine. Maybe next time.” “I’ll hold you to that,” Steve promises, and he walks away. Luke looks around the room, and the only people left are the people he came here with today. “So are we doing this again?” Danny asks as they all head towards the elevator together, “Because I’d love to do this again.” “You’re weird,” Jessica tells him, “But probably. Stark has really good whiskey.” “I guess so,” Matt says, and Frank shrugs. “They’ve got a nice shooting range. I’d come back for that.” Luke thinks about it for a moment before answering. “Yeah, I’d do this again.” “Cool,” Danny says, grinning. “We could make it like a team building thing!” There’s a collective groan. “Jesus, Danny, we’re not a fucking family.” The elevator reaches the lobby, and they all step out. “C’mon, Jess, it’d be fun! Guys, we could be such an awesome team! Like the Avengers are! We could be like, I don't know, the Defenders, or something.” Matt sighs as they step out onto the sidewalk. “Danny, that sounds stupid.” “No it doesn't, it sounds cool!” “You call yourself the Iron Fist. I don’t think you get to decide what ‘cool’ is.” “Says the guy who goes by Daredevil!” “I didn’t pick that name!” “Neither did I!” “You’re both stupid. Shut up or I will throw you into the fucking street, I swear to god.” “...Sorry Jess.” “Whatever.”