Some people might have claimed that Gotham was a den of villainy and crime. Those people never heard about the wonders of the small island state of Madripoor, just south of Singapore. Those people would have, however, probably had more common sense than to book a drunken portal there.
(
Sadly, none of the boys involved were terribly gifted in common sense. )
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His... very bright... wing.
"The hat?
Or the vodka? Warren was already losing track.
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Another beat.
"And where is my shirt?!" The last part involved some maidenly covering of his chest. Or possibly just the chunk of glowing metal there.
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"Natasha showed me how to work the camera on my phone, did I tell you?" he asked. "It even takes video." Then he raised it, ready to take photos to send to everyone he had ever met. Even the Soviets. He had his other hand on his pistol butt, though, because this was Madripoor and he wasn't stupid.
Steve didn't encourage him, but he didn't tell him to put the phone away, either. Instead he raised his fist to knock on the iced-over door. "Tony? Boys? It's Mr. Rogers, you can open the door now."
"Or we could kick it down," Bucky suggested cheerfully.
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