Elevate the Dark // One-On-One // CLOSED (sort of a Marvel rp)

Looked like it was going to be dumpsters again, he realized, suppressing a sigh. Gross, but nothing to do about it. He'd just have to find one that was empty, maybe, or filled with something besides rotten food and decay. They did exist, he'd found them before.

"Ugh, fine." Blythe hung up the call with Fury. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., set up a tracker signal on this 'Bridger'. I'll find him quicker that way." She assumed that this Bridger was a guy, but she could be wrong.
"No need, Blythe. Bridger Clyde is only a few metres away."
"I'm sorry, what?"

Bridger had no idea of the impending doom hovering above his head, though he always had a sort of expectation to be confronted about his abilities someday. He'd never stopped to consider exactly how he'd handle that situation, though.

"Below, near a dumpster." F.R.I.D.A.Y. essentially took over control of the suit, gliding her down and landing her in front of a boy. The helmet identified him as 'Bridger Clyde'.

Bridger saw the suit in-coming, and watched it land, one of his eyebrows slowly creeping higher with every second.
"Hi?" he asked hesitantly. "Can I help you."
Come to think of it, he'd thought he'd been hearing voices, but he'd thought nothing of it.

"Um… Bridger Clyde?" Iron Soldier asked. Under the helmet, Blythe was lowkey freaking out. It wasn't like she could back out now: he'd seen her.
How could he not, she was literally right in front of him. And now that she'd asked his name, he'd know she wanted something to do. Fuck! She thought to herself.

"Is the state of my well-being dependent on my answer to that?" he asked cautiously. He knew better than to give away too much information about himself right off the bat, especially to random suits of armour that land in front of you. "Who are you, Iron Man?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, I'm not Iron Man," Iron Soldier replied, voice slightly annoyed. "You're needed for something. Something big, I'm told. You need to come with me." Blythe figured he wouldn't come easily, but he appeared homeless. She decided to use that. "If you come, you'll have a roof over your head for a few nights."

"Okay…." Bridger considered his options. It sounded really sketchy, and on any other day he would have said Hell naw and boogied on out of there. However, he was tired, over-confident in his ability to protect himself, and, well, who was he to turn down free housing.
"Okay," he said more decisively. "Why not? I'm down."

"Unless you can fly, I'm going to have to carry you," Iron Solider said. Blythe was hesitant about this: she might have super strength, but she had no idea how heavy Bridger was. And she still had yet to carry someone while flying in her suit.

(Oh, my god, I didn't reply to this?? I'm so sorry, I thought I had ages ago!)

"We could take a bus?" Bridger offered, sharing many of her concerns. "I have a little money, I'm sure I could get us at least close to where we need to be."

(oh it's fine, i do that all the time)

"No bus will take us where we need to go," Iron Soldier said, reluctance evident. "If you can't fly, I unfortunately will have to carry you."

(Thanks <3)

Bridger sighed. "Okay, great. Welp, might as well get it over with."
He was seriously beginning to wonder if he hadn't made a bad decision, but there was no going back now.
"So, if you aren't Iron Man, who are you?"

"The name's Iron Soldier," The suited Blythe replied. "But you could say that I am related to him." She sighed. "Now, how will we go about this?" She said this more to herself than Bridger.

""I'm sorry, you what?" Bridger raised an eyebrow. "Can we just take a second and you explain to me exactly who you are and where we're going and why? After that you can give me a hug and haul me off to the sky r whatever you're planning, okay?"

Iron Solider sighed loudly. In a split second, her helmet melted away to reveal a girl with black hair in a plait.
"My name's Blythe. Blythe Stark Rogers. Tony Stark is my Papa."

Bridger's eyebrows crept higher with every word. This is not at all how he'd expected his day to go, but…here it was going.
"Oh," he finally said. "Okay. Sure. And…what do the Avengers want with me?"

Blythe sighed again. "The Avengers want nothing to do with you as far as I am aware, and I can't tell you who really wants you. You'll get told when we get there. And if you're implying that I'm an Avenger, I'm not. I'm my own person."

"Yo, why can't you tell me?" Bridger argued. "If I'm gonna find out anyways. I'd rather know, y'know? I swear, I'm not trying to be difficult, but I need to make sure I'm not getting dragged into a trap or something. And if you're not with the Avengers, then who are you working for? I'm very concerned for my own safety right now."
He glanced down at the ground, trying to hide the fear from showing on his face. He hoped his elevated heart-rate wasn't obvious to this girl. He'd never been put in this sort of situation before, and his innate curiosity and adventurous nature was battling with the panic born from self-preservation.

"Look, I can't tell you. It's slightly classified information to the public and someone could hear. And it's none of your business who I work for, capiche?" Her helmet came back, and she could see that he wasn't going to come easily. In a split second, she reached out and hit one of the vagus nerves in his neck, causing him to pass out. She was then able to pick him up and beginning flying towards S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ.

Bridger woke up later with a confused groan.
What the..
He looked around, trying to remember what happened and where he was.

"Oh good, you're awake," A voice boomed. This voice belonged to Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D. "Sorry about the way you were brought here. We don't normally bring people in like that, but Blythe said you were being a bit uncooperative."

Bridger about jumped out of his skin at the sound of Nicks voice, bolting upright.
"What the heck, man?" he asked. "Uncooperative? I just didn't want to get killed or anything. That stuff's real after living on the streets for ten years, what the heck do you want?"
He glared at the man, refusing to be intimidated.

Nick simply stared. "We don't appreciate noncooperation here," He said sternly. "I understand being unwilling, but S.H.I.E.L.D. does not run like that."

Bridger sputtered indignantly. "Uh-well-I-didn't-am-not that's not fair! I didn't sign up for anything! S.H.I.E.L.D.? What does that make you, Nick Fury?"

"The one and only. Although I thought the eye patch would have given it away. Now. You need to show us what you can do. There's a possibility that you could become a valuable asset to us. But we need to see you in action."

"And what if I'm not interested in being an 'asset?'" Bridger asked quietly. "What do I get out of it?"

"Unfortunately, you don't get a choice in the matter," Nick said. "You're going to do this, whether you like it or not. The question is: do you want to do it the easy way or the hard way? Cause I wouldn't mind the hard way."

(I'm back, thanks for your patience!)

Bridger shook his head, internally cursing himself. What an idiot he was, accepting random invitations on the street.
"There won't be any need," he said coldly. "I'll play nice." For now, he silently added.

(it's honestly fine)

Blythe walked out of the shadows, unaware that Bridger was awake. Her suit was gone, into her body, and it had revealed what she was wearing underneath. Her clothes really did not match the aqua suit she wore. She had tight black jeans on paired with a black leather jacket. The jacket was unzipped and revealed one of her Papa's famous lines - Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist - which was a joke gift from her best friend. Her shoes were custom aqua Doc Martens that had multiple studs on them. Her black hair was tied into a tight plait like before, but this time it was wrapped into a bun.
"Oh, you woke up."