Chapter 1

*Munich, Germany*

Mike breathed out heavily before taking a steady step across the wire.

“Very good,” Clint said, smiling with approval. “Looks like all those ballet lessons paid off.”

Mike smiled, carefully walking down the wire suspended thirty feet off the ground.

“Remember, your feet are just as good as your hands. You need to be able to see with them because your hands will be awfully occupied.”

Mike nodded as he walked across the wire. He turned his head listening.

He turned sharply, pulling an arrow into his bow and taking aim. And again. And again. He hit every apple that Clint threw at him. He knew that he hadn’t hit them all exactly in the center, though.

He would have, if he hadn’t been blindfolded. 

“Nice work, twinkle toes.”

Smiling, Mike jumped off the wire, catching it in his hand as it let him down gently to the floor. He pulled off his blindfold. “Hello to you too, Santana.”

She smiled at him and that was his first clue that something was off. Usually she rolled her eyes or smirked.

The second clue was that her hair was short. She took great pride in the length of her hair and now it was hanging just above her shoulders.

And the third was that she was alone. She never visited him without Brittany.

Clint noticed as well. “Santana, what happened?”

She took a deep breath. “Loki came. With his brats. He...he took an amulet from mom. She said that you’d know what to do?”

Clint’s expression hardened. “Is Natasha okay?”

Santana nodded. “As okay as either of us can be. They...they took Cedes and Britt. They tried to take me too, but I cut my hair. But mom’s gone off to talk to Banner and Artie.”

Clint nodded. “We need to get to Manhattan. Mike, pack your things.”

*York, England*

Natasha smiled at the familiar cottage. The daffodils were in bloom. Those always had been Gwen’s favorites. She knocked on the door.

Bruce opened it, his eyes widening in surprise as he took her in. “Natasha! What are you--” He caught her expression. “Come in.”

She followed him gratefully into the kitchen. 

“Auntie Tasha!”

She smiled. “Artie! 

He wheeled around the kitchen island and she leaned down to hug him. “Is Brittany with you?” he asked excitedly.

She smiled sadly. “Um...that’s what I’m here to talk about...” She filled them in on the current situation.

“So the band’s getting back together,” Bruce sighed.

Natasha nodded, grimacing. “Manhattan. Two days. The trouble is, no one knows how to get a hold of Thor.”

“I do,” Artie said suddenly, eyes hardened from the news.

Bruce and Natasha blinked at him in surprise. “You do?”

“Of course. Sam and I talk all the time and we have Call Of Duty tournaments every month. I’ll give him a call.”

“Thanks, Artie,” Natasha smiled. “It means a lot.”

“Anything to get Brittany back.”

*Miami, Florida*

“May the force be with you, my friend!”

He could practically hear Artie rolling his eyes through the phone. “Sam, it’s urgent. Mercedes and Brittany have been kidnapped.”

His stomach dropped. “What?”

“It has to do...with your uncle and your cousins.”

Sam almost snapped his phone in half. “What about Santana?”

“She got away. Natasha’s fine too.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Well, can you get your dad to Manhattan in two days?”

“I’m on it. See you there, Abrams.”

“See you, Thorson.” 

Sam snapped his phone shut.

Sebastian, Jesse, and Quinn had Mercedes. He knew it was probably Jesse’s idea to grab her and the others had went along and tried to grab the other two as well.

He threw his cell phone against the wall.

Then proceeded to wreck his room.

Jane ran upstairs when she heard the commotion, to find her son’s room in shambles. “Sam, what on earth--”

“Mom, I need to find dad. Dear Uncle Loki is back.”

*Brooklyn, New York*

Kurt frowned, pulling his wrench this way and that, trying to get the screw on straight. Frustrated, he lifted the car up with one of his legs, trying to get at it from a better angle.

His leg shook from the weight, but he breathed calmly through his nose. He could do it this time, he just had to--

“Not bad.”

He jumped and lost hold of the car. It came crashing down towards him, but stopped inches from his face. He rolled himself out from underneath the car, glancing briefly at the muscled arm holding the car up effortlessly. Glaring, he stocked off to grab his water bottle off another car.

“Kurt.”

“What do you want, Rogers?”

Steve sighed. “I wish that you wouldn’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer? Sir? Captain? Great-grandfather?” 

“Look,” Steve tried again. “I know that we haven’t been on the...best of terms--”

“I’ll say,” Kurt snorted.

“But there’s an emergency. Natasha, remember her?”

“The Black Widow? Sure.”

Steve licked his lips. “Well, two of her daughters were kidnapped by Loki and he also took something that is extremely powerful and potentially dangerous. The old team is getting back together to stop him.”

“Okay, as fascinating as all of this is, what does it have to do with me?”

“Another Avenger’s children were taken from her,” Steve said seriously. “Doesn’t that make you feel anything?”

“Why would it, I never knew them.” Kurt said shortly. “You never brought me to any of your little reunions, remember?”

“Still...I know our relationship has been tense, but you should come anyways. Tomorrow. Stark Tower at noon. Be there.”

“I’m not a soldier, you can’t just give me orders!”

Steve sighed. “Look, we’re all bringing our children--”

“So bring your children. Oh, wait! Grandpa and mom are dead so I’m the last resort. I get it, Rogers, you don’t have to put on this charade. You want me to come otherwise you just look bad without anyone there behind you.” Kurt turned around angrily and tugged off his coveralls. He ran a clean rag through his hair and pulled a tee shirt on. 

“Your country needs you, Kurt.”

“My country hates me,” Kurt snapped back. “Just like you always have until five minutes ago.”

“I never hated you, Kurt, I just...”

“I get it. You’re a 40s boy. It’s fine.”

“Look, Kurt. You’re special--”

“Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“And you’re needed.”

“I’m needed here,” Kurt said with finality as he walked towards the door.

“I paid for Burt’s hospital bill last year.”

Kurt froze, hand on the knob. His hand clenched. The knob molded to the inside of his hand. “Seriously? You’re going to guilt-trip me into going?”

“I didn’t want to play that card--”

“Save your breath. Don’t worry, I’ll be there tomorrow. Noon. Now kindly get the hell out of my garage.”

Steve left with another heavy sigh.

Kurt punched his car, leaving a sizable dent in the hood. He hissed in pain, shaking his hand out.

He was strong, but not that strong.

*Stark Tower, Manhattan, New York*

“Hey, Squirt!”

Blaine groaned and refrained from bashing his head against the computer screen. “Don’t call me that.”

Cooper breezed into his room, smile as brilliant as the self-sustaining lamps. “Did you hear about the big news?”

Blaine rubbed his eyes in frustration. “No, dad just sent the plane to Dalton to pick me up. I’ve been trying to get Jarvis to tell me for the past hour, but he’s been mum. 

Cooper smiled, sitting on his desk. “Remember Natasha’s girls? Santana? Brittany? Mercedes?”

Blaine frowned, trying to recall the last Avengers reunion. It had been a ball five years ago. “Yeah, vaguely. Why?”

“Well, Brittany and Mercedes were kidnapped by Loki and his kids, so the Avengers are coming together to fight again, or whatever.”

Blaine stared at him in shock. “Wait, seriously?”

“Duh. Why’d you think dad called you home from school?”

“I don’t know, a benefit or something?”

Cooper rolled his eyes. “Please, why would he do that? No, it has to be something really big to bring you home.”

Yeah, didn’t have to tell Blaine twice. He knew that his father vastly preferred Cooper to him. Cooper was practically a clone of Tony--handsome, charming, charismatic, a playboy (though Tony hand tampered that one down since marrying Pepper, their stepmother), a lover of limelight, egotistical, a dangerous streak, and a brilliant engineer. 

It was why he’d been named Tony’s successor and was now the CEO of Stark Enterprises. 

Meanwhile, Blaine was the other son, the one sent away to school, the one who wasn’t quite as remarkable and relatable as Cooper, so he was stuffed in the background. 

“And they’re saying,” Cooper went on. “That maybe some of their children will fight. You know what that means, right?”

Blaine knew, but he didn’t answer. Didn’t want to.

“It means dad might be finally giving me the suit! Really let me fill his shoes, right?”

“Yeah, Coop, sounds great,” Blaine muttered, going back to the equations on the computer screen.

“You don’t sound very excited for me.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled.”

“Wouldn’t kill you to show it.” And with that, Cooper left his room.

Blaine sighed. “Jarvis, why is my father such a narcissistic selfish bastard?”

“I have been searching for that answer to that question for decades, sir.”