This chapter is very Clint (the real marvel Hawkeye with hearing aids) and Tony heavy This is also my very first avengers fic, and i am taking prompts because i will need help coming up with ideas for certain letters (A to Z), so please review and be kind :D

Enjoy!

A for Asphyxiation

Part 1

"Well, Fuck me."

Clint laughed into the com system, only slightly out of breath as he leaped across low-rise rooftops. "You kiss your mother with that mouth, Stark?"

"Fuck you, Barton," came the playfully gruff retort. Tony Stark weaved and bobbed, dodging the tendrils of the thing that had just crawled its way out of the Hudson. It was disgusting, to say the least. Just the sight of it made Tony's stomach give a little flip flop. Black, and oozing (of course it had to be oozing, shit can never just be a normal kind of gross), the monstrous blob seemed to be belching toxic fumes and leaking dark brown pus from huge blisters that covered it from head to ass…or ass to head… seriously either combination would have been believable; it was goddamn ugly. Its mere resemblance to a squid had the billionaire superhero swearing off calamari to his dying day.

Needless to say, Iron Man's "Fuck Me" was a well-timed and appropriate sentiment at the sight that met the whole team when they arrived in downtown Manhattan. Immediately, Captain America had started rambling off directives for each member. The civilian evacuation was well underway - S.H.I.E.L.D. had taken care of that before the call had even come in. The early warning system Stark Industries had helped put in place in New York (a complicated system of charts and radars deemed necessary after the last attack) had given the organization plenty of time to ensure the safety of the citizens. In addition to the proactive system being exemplary, the monster was also just slow as shit. After all, it was a big black ball of snot - not exactly hitting top speeds.

Captain America and Agent Romanoff took to the streets immediately after landing the Quinjet a safe space away. A quick radial thermal scan showed that the neighborhood was, in fact, clear of all possible residents. Steve let out a relieved breath. There was nothing he hated more than civilian casualties. This way, he would be able to focus more on directing his team and ensuring their safety without being preoccupied with collateral damage.

"Hawkeye, get in position." Steve's voice rang clear and commanding into his mic. From his vantage point, Hawkeye held his finger to his earpiece and nodded down at the rest of the group to show his understanding. Quickly, he skirted across another building top, his keen eyes searching for the perfect spot to set up his roost. Nestling atop an arch stone on a well-situated ledge, he drew his bow from its resting position slashed across his chest, notched an arrow and waited for the command to fire. He had a perfect view of the playing field.

"Widow, you're with me. We need to keep the fighting in front of the evacuation perimeter. It gives us a little flexibility, but not much." A steady but slight nod from the red head showed her understanding. Out of the corner of his eye, Captain America saw her flex her shoulders and run her fingertips over her weapons and her utility belt. She was never unprepared.

The sound of thrusters now drew the Cap's full attention. Tony wasn't engaging the beast, but he was certainly pissing it off. They could all hear his giddy breaths and exclamations over the com system as he made narrow escape after narrow escape. He was such an adrenaline junky.

"Stark, Don't. You have your orders. Do not engage. And that includes making it angry."

It was Bruce's voice that interrupted the line this time. "Yah, Tony, not everyone is cute and cuddly like me when they're upset." His sarcasm was always made funnier by the lulling tone of his voice. Tony laughed; even Romanoff's lips tweaked upwards a little bit. Bruce was safely stationed in the Quinjet, monitoring everyone's vitals and logging as much information about the beast as possible. He had a labyrinth of scientific equipment in place that would be measuring its radiation levels, oxygen saturation, chemical emissions, and a bunch of other jargon Steve had attempted to understand. Bruce would remain in the Quinjet unless the team had no choice but to use the Other Guy. This was Manhattan, and since the battle of New York, the government had been rather…sensitive about Avengers-Induced property damage. Regardless, bringing out the Hulk was a last resort on this mission.

The Walking Booger, as Tony had so nobly dubbed it, was huffing and puffing and sliming its way towards the team. Coming in on the jet, it had looked big, but standing here on the ground gave them all a new perspective. It was huge. And Christ it stank. With a slow and blistered turn of its head, the monster revealed a black slimy eyeball that locked on to the spot where Captain America and Widow stood. It roared a deep, moist gurgling sound that was nothing short of repulsive. From his position, an involuntary shiver ran down Clint's spine. It was just gross.

The monster, fixated on the two Avengers it could see clearly, began to charge. It was pulling and sliding itself towards them at a surprisingly fast rate, ferocity, anger, and malevolence clear in its movements. Without a flinch, Widow had her handguns out of her belt and in her palms, firing, before Steve could even raise his shield. Bullet after bullet struck true and straight, lodging in and around the monsters single eye, effectively blinding it. The Booger Beast screamed in agony and fury, but only increased its speed. Steve ran to his left and jumped atop an abandoned newspaper stand, throwing his shield with all his superhuman might. It struck the beast, and a spray of brown blood accompanied the cacophonous sound of putrid blisters being popped as the shield ran across them. The monster stopped its charge and reared up, thrashing in gushed freely from the splits in its hide. It was like some sick version of bubble wrap.

"In my, um, scientific opinion," Bruce softly chimed. "That's really gross."

A slew of mumbled expletives and a small gag could be heard over the com. "You okay there, Barton?" Widow teased as she reloaded her guns in a swift movement.

"Oh yeah, I'm just peachy." Barton's pained swallow was audible. "Really, guys, I think we should all go out for a huge lunch after this. All of us, everyone, someone call Thor down from the heavens, unless he's busy brushing his hair - hell, lets even invite Phil. Sushi, maybe, or some raw slimy octopus on marinara sau-"

"Featherface, if you don't shut your mouth right now I will fly my pretty iron ass to your rooftop and vomit on your head." Much to everyone's relief, Clint stopped talking.

Back to the task at hand and barely able to withstand the urge to cover their noses, Steve and Nat fired everything they had at the beast from ground level. Barton followed suit from his perch. Tony looked on, pained at his own lack of involvement, but his orders were clear. He couldn't engage until they were sure conventional weaponry wouldn't do the job. Still, it was torture for the hero to just sit there and watch his teammates grow more and more frustrated. But, to their credit, they continued on: shooting, throwing, firing, piercing, and slashing – to no avail. Though the Boogie Monster was obviously disoriented and in pain, nothing seemed to be really internally damaging it. At this rate, it would take a week to kill it. Steve let out a huff of frustration. Dammit. Time to call in the big guns. If only the big guns weren't so smug.

"Widow, disengage and rendezvous with Hawkeye. Tony, engage, but be careful. There's not much we can do to that thing if it gets a hold of you." His voice, though controlled, was full of tension. "Don't do anything stupid, Stark."

Please be careful, Tony.

"Don't get your pantyhose in a bunch, Miss America."

I'll be ok.

"Idiot."

You better be.

With a steadying breath in, Tony prepared to take to the sky. "JARVIS, put another 10% into the thrusters. I want to hit this guy and hit him hard."

"Absolutely, Sir. And may I advise caution, if only for the propriety of the sentiment, knowing full well that you'll ignore me regardless."

Tony grinned. "Yes, JARVIS, you may advise it."

The rest of the Avengers watched the metal suit fly low to the street, parallel with the pavement before pulling up swiftly underneath the beast's chin. With the gauntlet curled into a tight, unforgiving fist, the punch that struck the beast from below caused a sickly squelching sound, but it did its job. The monster roared onto its rear tentacles and swatted blindly into the sky, trying to knock Tony to the ground. Without its vision, the monster failed miserably. Tony swooped under and over, left and right, ellipses and swan dives, punching the beast and shooting mercilessly and strategically with his repulsors. After only a few short minutes, the beast gave a gurgling cry and collapsed to the ground, its tendrils spasming in apparent death throes. Tony planted himself firmly on the street. "Level complete," he muttered under his breath and laughed.

He retracted his faceplate to reveal his telltale smirk. Steve just rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile on his face. It was a successfully completed mission. Nobody dead, nobody even scratched. How often did that happen? They all patted Stark roughly on the back of the suit, congratulating, joking, and teasing.

With the all clear, the S.H.I.E.L.D. ground crew came storming in from behind the perimeter. In contrast to the battalion's hurried and harsh SWAT-like movements came Bruce Banner with a smile on his face and a few water bottles in his hands. His jaunt was light and relieved, as he politely stayed out of the paths of the scuttling agents.

The Avengers stood together in the middle of the street, watching as order was restored. This was always the unseen part of missions, of the group as a team: The sweat and the exhaustion and the recuperating. Bruce tossed the first bottle to Nat, who gratefully accepted it, sipping slowly to rehydrate and rid herself of the bad taste in her mouth. That monster had left a very bad smell that would probably linger on their clothes and in their hair for weeks, no matter how many times they made Coulson do their laundry. Bruce threw the next bottle to Tony, whose sweat was visibly running down his hairline, his dark curly Italian locks sticking to his forehead. Bruce eyed him, slightly concerned.

"You good, Tony?"

"Oh, yah," the engineer nodded, "this." He gestured absentmindedly to his sweaty face. "I needed another 10% in the thrusters; JARVIS had to cut the AC for the power distribution. It gets surprisingly warm in a metal box." Tony gulped down half the water bottle in one go, content to savor the rest, then instinctively tried to wipe the sweat out of his eyes with his gauntleted hand. Instead, he succeeded in hitting his unarmored forehead with the smooth titanium fingers hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Ah, screw it." And with that, he had JARVIS unlock his gauntlets and his helmet. He stripped off his gloves and placed the suit's head piece at his feet, stretching his fingers and rolling his neck. Tony ruffled his hair, slicking it back and out of his face. It was a hot day, early august in New York City. All five of them were looking forward to a nice cool rinse back at the tower. They certainly couldn't stand to be down here any longer, the smell really was horrid. It had that raw putrid fish smell mixed with waste - like as if a mermaid crawled into sewage pipe, vomited, and then died.

Clint had just gotten to the punchline of a really dirty joke (that undoubtedly would end with a reference to the smell of fish) when the screams began.

The team whipped around in fighting stance to see what the noise was about: a lurch, clearly visible, of a lone tentacle as it crawled on the hot pavement. Then, the body of the beast, giving a resilient shudder, and a small groan that grew both in volume and aggression echoed off the abandoned buildings surrounding. uh-oh.

Barton was the first to chime in. "So, Not dead?"

Nat, curtly: "Not dead."

Agents were running back toward the perimeter as more parts of the monster started to move. The tendrils' movements became stronger, more aware, and more purposed. They snaked and lanced and lashed, trying to kill anything they could reach. Bruce, with an apologetic look at the team, also retreated with the crowd. He would come only if called. "Damn," Steve exclaimed reaching down to pick up his shield. The whole team rushed to brace themselves for round two. Tony almost didn't even have time to smirk at Cap's bad language. Almost.

"Watch your mouth, Steven, lest mother find out." Tony, that cheeky bastard.

"Now isn't the time Stark, we need to focus."

"I know, Capsicle, I know. I just need you to be wary of my virgin ears - that's all."

"Stark, I swear to God, I….."

Nat and Clint were reloading and preparing their weapons, filtering out the banter to their left so that they could focus and keep wary eyes on the beast that seemed to be growing more aware every second that passed. Clint drew his bow and reached around for his quiver – but it was empty. He mentally chastised himself. He had fired arrow after arrow while Cap and Nat were still engaged with the monster. He didn't realize that he had used his whole bloody stock.

Goddammit, mother-, Barton stopped. His eye caught a very familiar flash of silver twenty feet in front of him. It was an arrow head, an explosive impact detonator (or a "boom-boom" as Tony liked to call them) to be specific. He must have forgotten to arm it when he shot it. Either way, there was still a charge in that thing, it just needed another impact. With one eye on the monster, Clint sprinted towards the arrow head, determined to not be defenseless. He wasn't a superhuman, or a robotic genius. He needed tools to fight. He needed his arrows.

Steve tried to call him back, seeing how dangerously close he was getting to the thrashing creepy crawly, but Clint was already halfway there. Sliding on the pavement, his Kevlar cargo pants allowed him to painlessly skid to where the arrow head lay. Clint picked it up, notched it and leapt to his feet, running back to the safety of the group where he could fire a shot.

That's when all hell broke loose.

Clint was already turned around and couldn't have seen the tentacle arching above his head. Nor could he have seen the tendril shoot down at him, its point curling in the wrap itself around whatever it touched and squeeze the life out of it. Clint did not see those things. But Steve did. Nat did. Bruce did.

Tony certainly did.

Clint was only about 15 feet away from safety, but Tony knew it was 15 feet too far. Tony dropped the gauntlet he was trying to quickly reattach and allowed his bionic legs to cover the distance in two strides, catching only a flashing glimpse of Clint's shocked and confused stare when Tony literally plowed into him, knocking him off to the side. Clint felt the air leave his body, his back sandwiched painfully between pavement and a titanium alloy weight. His head smacked the concrete, and he saw stars. One, no, two of his ribs groaned dangerously under the crushing load that was Tony Stark.

But then the weight vanished, gone as soon as it had appeared. Clint, in a painful daze, blinked several times to clear his vision, feeling as though he was missing something. He could pick up muffled yells and cries from around him, but everything seemed dampened. He brought one uncoordinated and slightly shaky hand up to his ear – ah, shit. There was the culprit. Stark had knocked out his damn hearing aids. He steadied his arms and put the small plastic tools back into his ears, making sure they were undamaged and situated more firmly. The five seconds it took for him to do this may have well been five years, for all that he had missed; because when he flicked the little dial in his ear to turn his aids on, the first thing that shook and resonated in his skull made his heart stop and his blood run cold.

Steve's voice sounded above all others, bathed in panic.

"TONY, NO!"

TO BE CONTINUED

PLEASE READ THIS ITS IMPORTANT:

Okey dokey folks! So that was my first Avengers fic ever! Obviously this one will be 2 parts, but i swear the rest are just oneshots. I'll try to update at least twice a week If you have any letters that you want me to do with specific prompts, like B for blown up or W for Windstorm or C for car crash or anything just please leave a review! these kinds of fic series are really fun to do and they are really fun to read, i find. Some of these will be missions like this letter, but most will be everyday things or freak accidents where being a superhero isnt even relevant. the important thing is, Tony will be in pain for this whole thing. and I'm an evil sadist who will enjoy every second of it. Who doesn't love a little Hurt!Tony.

THANK YOU AND PLEASE REVIEW MY LITTLE CUPCAKES.