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The Avengers ( plus Peter) arrived right on time for the concert. No, they were a little late, but that’s okay.
“Nobody is allowed in when the show’s goin’. You’re all about 57 minutes late,” the old man sitting at the desk said.
Well, maybe they were a lot late. No matter. They were the Avengers (and Peter). An average-sized man (even with the heel lifts), wearing tinted Tom Ford sunglasses and a sharp suit stepped forward.
“Excuse me. I’m Tony Stark, I’m sure you know who I am. We would like to enter the concert,” he said with a sniff.
“Well Mr. Stank, I’m sure I’ll remember you sometime next week,” the old man stated unperturbed, leaning back in his seat. A teenager sniggered, whispering something to the man wearing a military uniform next to him (a colonel?!?), who tried not to laugh (unsuccessfully). A buff blond man wearing a baseball cap raised his eyebrows, also trying not to smile. The shorter, sandy-haired man next to him wasn't even trying to hide his full-blown laughter. The redhead next to him just rolled her eyes. The short man with messy hair pushed his glasses up and smirked (and was that a lab coat? Who wears a lab coat to a concert!). An extremely tall, really buff dude with his hair in a bun, looking like he stepped out of a Shakespeare play, appeared to be confused.
Tony sighed, ignoring the peanut gallery's antics behind him, smoothly pulled out his wallet, and slid a couple of hundred dollar bills towards the man.
“How about now?”
“Mr. Stank! You're being preposterous! Do you take me as a person that can be bribed?” the old man exclaimed.
“Yeah, Mr. Stank!” the teenager with the fluffy blond hair echoed. Exasperated, Tony ran a hand down his face.
The old man continued, “Who are you to bribe an official like me? I’ll call the police, better yet, I’ll call the Avengers!”
“Nay, good sir, we are the Avengers!” the extremely muscled gun with the bun said (he even talked like he just walked out of a Shakespeare play!).
The old man scoffed. “If you guys are the Avengers, then I’m Captain America!”
The buff blond fellow looked offended. “I am Captain America.” He took off his hat.
“Oh I know where I’ve seen you before, you’re the guy that acted in that knockoff Captain America documentary.” The old man laughed, pointing a finger at the blonde buff dude wearing an extremely small t-shirt.
“What-- I am the real Steve Rogers.” The redhead rolled her eyes again.
“You don’t look like him.”
“Yeah, knockoff Captain America!” the sandy-haired man echoed.
The colonel raised his hand, ready to add to the chaos. “I’m Colonel Rhodes, aka the Iron Patriot.”
“Nuh-uh, I say it’s War Machine. You stole my suit, so I get to name it,” Tony said pointedly.
“Yeah, you let me steal it!”
“Semantics.” Tony waved his hand at the colonel.
The teenager’s eyes widened. “Wait, are we revealing our identities? Then I’m Spider-Man. That’s Spider-Man with a hyphen in it!”
“What the fuck Peter?” Tony groaned. “We don’t just go revealing our identities?”
The curly-haired fellow raised his hand shyly. “I’m Bruce Banner.”
Tony, still yelling at Peter, exclaimed, “Peter! There’s a reason why you have a secret identity!”
“But I thought we were revealing them!”
The sandy-haired dude was rolling on the floor with tears of laughter. And the buff, buff dude with the man bun had suddenly procured a hammer out of nowhere (however, later inspection showed a suspicious hole in a window).
The tight-shirted man glanced at the redhead who rolled her eyes again and asked, “So can we attend the concert or not?”