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Steve, Thor, and Bucky were the only heroes allowed to ignore quarantine, as they couldn’t spread COVID-19 (or anything else) and thus were still able to move about the city, distributing supplies to those who couldn’t dare to leave their homes right now, along with keeping an eye out for the few mini-riots that had begun to break out.
But even heroes have to rest, and they all returned to the Tower for a late dinner and, as Thor put it, the sharing of heroic tales of how they’d conquered mighty foes.
It had gone around the table: Steve’s fight against Red Skull, Bucky’s early days in the army, Bruce’s defense of a small family while they’d been hiding from raiders, Natasha’s first mission with SHIELD, Clint’s thrilling escape from an ambush, Tony’s defeat of Stane—
—and then, as Pepper opened her mouth to add her own tale, the encounter with Killian, Thor raised his glass and said, “A toast to Lady Potts!” and then, as the rest amiably raised their glasses, added, “Praise the Norns for granting Tony a helpmeet in dealing with the traitorous Stane! Perhaps someday she will have conquered villains of her own, and have tales of her own to share!”
Briefly, and without letting her smile slip, Pepper mulled over the many problems with Thor’s assertion, and how she could decisively counter each issue. But as she looked over the faces around the table, she didn’t see a single expression of doubt or defiance, nothing to indicate that anyone was troubled by Thor’s assertion on her behalf.
So when she heard Tony draw breath, she elbowed him lightly and accepted Thor’s backhanded praise. And Tony had the sense to take her hint, and just get out of her way.
It would take at least a week to set up, Pepper thought as she lay her head on her pillow that night. But oh, her revenge would be glorious, and they would never again think her a passive afterthought.
Clint always hit the target range before breakfast. His first shot struck dead-on—and the target exploded in a gush of purple foam that he was too startled to avoid.
After the spray had died down, he blinked, wiped his face, and tentatively sniffed his hand.
Grape soda. Clint scowled; he hated grape soda.
Steve got up early for his morning run, but when he slipped his foot into his sneaker his toes unexpectedly poked out the far end. Upon further inspection, his shoes turned out to be three sizes too small, and both had had their tips carefully sliced open.
Bucky wiped the sleep from his eyes, took a quick shower, and went to get dressed.
When he reached into the pile of clean shirts, they suddenly reached out for him!
Once the adrenaline reaction died down, he inspected the garments that were stuck to his arm. Powerful magnets had been sewn into the seams of every cuff.
After her morning ablutions, Natasha dried her hair, dressed, and headed for the door, her stomach already rumbling.
The doorknob zapped her so hard that she stumbled back a pace, and when she gathered herself she found that her hair had gone frizzy.
Natasha was seated at the table, eating her oatmeal in an especially grumpy manner, when Thor showed up, cheerfully ignoring everything and everyone in his quest for Pop-Tarts.
But when he tipped a pair of them into his hand, his face went puzzled. Examining them more closely, he found them to be some sort of plastic replica. (He tried a bite anyway, but spat it out in disgust.) The same for every other box he went through—dozens of them.
He sat down at the table with a most woebegone expression, and Natasha wordlessly slid over her half-finished bowl of oatmeal.
When Bruce turned on his laptop, he was bombarded with the theme song for Barney the Dinosaur.
He couldn’t lower the volume.
He couldn’t get it to log off or even hibernate.
He couldn’t get it to turn off, even after he’d opened the back and removed what he’d thought was the battery.
Even plugging in headphones had no effect.
Eventually, he shoved the laptop into the fridge and left to find Tony. His neck was turning just the slightest tinge of… purple.
Pepper woke from her dream with a grin on her face, only to have it fade as she realized the problem: Thanks to the widespread effects of the Coronavirus on the global economy, shipping services had been diverted to handle necessities first and foremost. Medicine and health care supplies, tech and office supplies so that more people could work from home, food and takeout bags for the innumerable people who weren’t making their food entirely at home even now.
Custom supplies to run a variety of pranks were pretty low on the list and, to be honest, at the moment, a little selfish.
Pepper sighed as she stretched out, beginning her own morning routine. There was no hurry. Her perfected vengeance could wait another couple of months—or another year, if need be. And, in the meantime, she’d just have to get a little more creative with the supplies she had around the Tower.