DISCLAIMER: Avengers and PJ don't belong to me. Obviously.

Story plot suggestions are appreciated too. So are Reviews.

The broccoli says 'I look like a small tree', the mushroom says 'I look like an umbrella', the walnut says 'I look like a brain', and the banana says 'Can we please change the subject?'

Edit: This is the new and improved version, okay? I read it and decided it was shitty and was like screw this! I'm going to revise! I'm not done yet so excuse the mistakes.

Edit on the edit on the edit: paintedbones, thank you for pointing that out. I meant "airy" actually. That was a dumb mistake of mine.

Edit on the Edit: HAHA! I'm armed with new adjectives and one more year on my belt (I recently turned 13 )! YAY! Revising again, don't mind me guys. ^_^

Screams echoed off the subway walls. Faint streaks of sunlight streamed in through the glass on the ceiling (who puts glass in an underground tunnel?) and cast a deceptively ambient glow on the puddles of blood and crowds of bodies (both dead and alive) on the platform. Safe, the police said.

Safe as my ass, Nancy thought when the grey-haired man standing three steps away from her collapsed with a gaping, bloody hole in his chest.

Two Chitauri lumbered around the exits, while six more strutted on the podium, seeming to take amusement in watching them run like headless chickens and occasionally firing a shot into the crowd.

Before the story continues, the author would like you to think about something.

Have you ever had that feeling after reading some rape, kidnapping, or murder story in the news and being like pshh, I'm so ordinary, this will never happen to me! Which is a fair conclusion to arrive at, considering the odds of you getting murdered is pretty small. You leave your doors unlocked, the garage door open, and precious items in your car because those bad people are in a different dimension and everyone here is a decent person. I mean, if you see an iPhone in a car, you're not going to take a rock and break the window to steal it, are you?

It was for this reason, because Nancy Bobofit thought of herself an ant in an ant pile, that she assumed that the chances of any one of those malevolent guns hitting her were next to none.

Which may have also been the reason that, at that moment, a beam ricocheted off a metal bar and took a sizeable chunk of her leg off.

-S-

Tony destroys the Mothership with a magnificent explosion composed of an unorthodox combination of Chitauri guts, Stark glory, and estranged metal. The explosion is silent, with no air to travel through, allowing Stark to marvel at the beauty without any distractions while propelling in the opposite direction at breakneck speeds, no friction whatsoever. He sees the wormhole into Manhattan- it looks like a 2-D disk with the tops of buildings printed on front and back, suspended in empty space like one of the many pieces of alien ship rubble.

Then he floats around in empty space, bombardments of completely useless theories and facts about the universe he comes up in the moments of his life where he literally had nothing to do (he could think of a lot of things he could have done) other than come up with useless theories and facts about the universe flitting across his mind.

Theories that could be tested, right here, right now, in this empty vacuum filled with alien debris.

Theories that he would test, if, say, he wasn't slowly dying of oxygen deficiency.

-S-

Someone was killing the Chitauri. Nancy could spot the figure past the distortedness of her tears, sweeping past the podium, decapitating monsters by swinging something similar to a bronze baseball bat. He had finesse and grace and dexterity while Nancy had tears and one and a half legs.

People started scampering out like swarms of mice the moment the Chitauri blocking the exits were killed. They paid no heed to anyone- not Nancy, and certainly not the other dead bodies scattered on the floor. It was a mass of panic and fear and pain, all rushing out in multiple waves.

Nancy laid there, the right part of her blouse underneath her armpit stained with the crimson of the blood left by the man killed moments before, the 100 dollar pair jeans she and her mother took an hour picking out a mangled mess of flesh, cloth, and blood.

This is how she's going to die.

She remembers only strong arms and the feel of a navy blue jacket. His voice warm, light and airy, in a good way.

"You're going to be alright."

She knows him.

-S-

They all watch as the portal, the one their fellow comrade went through and didn't come back out, closes. It closes gradually- certainly enough time for him to fall back to earth, yes?

Tony Stark may have been a narcissistic asshole at times, and an all-around unpleasant person to work with, but when it came down to it, he had, deep, deep down inside past all those levels of sarcasm and animosity, brilliance and pure(if a bit askew) morals.

In short, he was a friend. And a damn good one at that.

Steve Rogers stood in the center of a lopsided circle of collapsed chitauri, standing rigid while glaring holes at the wormhole, willing the bastard to fall back through. His teammates stand in scattered positions up and down the street, each looking equally grim.

Then the Hudson explodes into an arc of putrid brown water, a giant murky fist of water protruding and racing towards the sky, thousands of feet up, and into the worm hole. The river is sucked dry, leaving only the remaining trash and algae and unknown debris resting on the river floor.

It snakes out moments before the hole closes, a certain red-and-gold clad figure submerged inside the fist.

"Son of a gun," Steve mutters, already racing towards the next street over, where the polluted water fist seemed to be dropping Tony. He spots, on the rooftop of a strip mall with minimal damage, a teen in a navy blue jacket with his arm outstretched in exact synchronization as the one from Hudson.

Vivid green eyes meet Steve's from under tufts of raven black hair. The boy retracts his arm and ducks away. Steve loses sight of him as the watery arm dissipates and drops Tony Stark from 20 feet off the ground. The water flows by itself up street back into the river, an odd phenomena, but after seeing a hole in the sky open to thousands of alien invaders on hoover boards, he's honestly more concerned about the wellbeing of his team mate.

Natasha shakes and slaps him in an attempt to wake him up. No avail.

Bruce tries a few pressure points. No avail.

Clinton suggests Natasha do mouth to mouth. No avail.

Thor thumps Tony on the back. Tony jerks upright and coughs up brown water mixed with some algae and a dum-dum wrapper, a sight at which he groans.

"That's disgusting," he says hoarsely after a moment. The phrase seems to kick start their brains again, and Natasha suddenly kneels to embrace him. "Idiot," she says. The others pitch in with their part, all you idiot, what were you thinking? on the outside disguising an I'm glad you're okay.

They're all grinning, encircling Tony with relief and acceptance, while he just smiles bewilderedly.

"Shwarma," Steve says. "On me."

I'll change the second chapter during the weekend. Until then, this is all you gonna get. I'm not going to take it (the 2nd chapt) down for revising cuz im too lazy and there's always the possibility that I'll forget and leave this on hiatus for months on end again. ._.