imafuturist | How Many Warehouses Are Even In Queens Honesty, Early Sunday Morning

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How Many Warehouses Are Even In Queens Honesty, Early Sunday Morning

The problem with waiting for HYDRA to make the first move was that, once they did, it was a scramble to get into action. Especially when Clint's team was occasionally a little hard to find to call for back up. Stupid magic.

Luckily for Tony, he could make sad eyes at a few people on the island to help keep him alive to stop whatever the hell the Red Skull was planning this time.

He took a quick scan of the warehouse (it was always warehouses) to see what sort of opposition they'd be running into and was a little disturbed and distrustful over how few guards they had.

[Expecting two for all the slowplay!]

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They were so painfully dramatic, weren't they? It was some WWII precious moments shit right there.

"A shame you have already lost it here," Schmidt said, stumbling back to take another shot at Steve. He was... strategically backing away. Yes.

"Can't really see how that's the case," Steve gritted, coming in even closer.

"The death of Captain America at the hands of his team." And a hired assassin. Whatevs. "So many years of fighting against you and all it took was stepping back to watch."

Yeah, he had the usual crazy eyes about the situatiom. And continued to back away, pulling Steve further from the others.

Steve rolled his eyes. "It wasn't his team," he said fiercely. "Tony was set up."

Yes, Steve, explain justice to the creepy Nazi.

"Tell that to to the rest of the world, Captain," Schmidt said with a toothy grin. Because lack of normal skin. But also because he was a creepy Nazi. "When I take your counterpart's body as my own, I'll save his death for last."

That was going to earn Red Skull a shield to the face. "You don't touch him."

Hey, he was gloating here!

He styled back, trying shake off the blow to the head. "Struck a nerve, Captain?" Schmidt asked, smug look disappearing into something that looked like bit into a lemon as he looked past Steve to the alter.

"It's a little thing called basic respect for the fallen," Steve snapped.

"You would know best about the fallen, wouldn't you, Captain," Schmidt said, taking another careful step back as the few remaining soldiers rushed in between them.

Steve tackled them, trying to get to Schmidt. "You coward!" he spat.

"Give the boy my regards." Which was threatening no matter how you took it with the status of Bucky Barnes' survival.

But with that he laughed in what could only be described as a maniacal fashion before beating a hasty retreat.

Stay classy, Schmidt. You just stay classy.

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How Many Warehouses Are Even In Queens Honesty, Early Sunday Morning

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