"This isn't funny, Joker," Tony Stark said sharply, his voice laced with irritation as he glared at John, who was still laughing uncontrollably.
Though Stark's expression was hidden beneath the expressionless plating of the Iron Man helmet, his anger seeped through his voice like steam hissing from a boiling pipe.
John, clad in his signature clown getup, bent forward in laughter, holding his stomach like he'd heard the best joke in the world. His shoulders shook with mirth. The metallic groan of Stark's armor as he took a step forward silenced him.
John's laughter cut off like someone had flipped a switch.
He turned his head, slowly, eyes flickering between Iron Man and Black Widow.
Not a word.
Instead, he raised a phone with a message displayed on the screen. It was simple. Taunting. The kind of absurd message you'd expect from a lunatic who didn't take the world seriously.
Then, as if his point had been made, John spun around and took off running—arms flailing, knees high, bouncing like a broken wind-up toy. His limbs moved too dramatically to be efficient, but somehow he moved fast.
From behind, he looked like a clown who'd just robbed a candy store and bolted straight out of a three-ring circus.
Black Widow narrowed her eyes. She remembered that grin all too well.
She'd chased it once before, only to be fooled, humiliated, left with nothing but smoke and shadows. That smile had burned into her memory like a scar.
She didn't need to say a word. She launched into pursuit.
Then—
Boom!
A sudden, deafening blast echoed through the street.
A cluster shell detonated without warning. The sound rattled the windows of nearby buildings and threw up a column of gray smoke.
Black Widow came to a sharp stop, one arm rising instinctively to cover her face. She coughed, eyes watering from the dust, and spun around furiously.
"Tony! Are you insane?" she yelled, coughing through the smoke.
"I aimed carefully," Stark replied coolly, stepping out of the haze like a machine risen from a battlefield. "The cluster artillery has a wide radius but low penetration. It's all flash. No fatalities."
"You think that's the issue?!" she snapped. "All you've done is make him run faster."
Her tone was sharp, edged with frustration.
She remembered the last time she'd seen John disappear right before her eyes. It hadn't made sense then, and it didn't make sense now.
"He couldn't have escaped that," Stark said, his voice calm but laced with self-assurance.
Black Widow shot him a doubtful look.
"I'm telling you, Natasha, no one walks away from a direct hit with that kind of firepower."
Stark's confidence was practically dripping from his words. He wasn't just stating a fact—he was making a declaration.
He didn't even wait for her response. With a mechanical hiss, he took a few heavy steps toward the crater left behind by the blast.
The ground had cracked, chunks of concrete tossed aside like paper. Smoke curled up from the impact zone.
Lying at the center of it all was a man in full clown makeup, sprawled out unnaturally. Limbs askew. Still. Silent.
"See?" Stark gestured with one hand, armor clanking. "Told you. Game over."
There was a touch of satisfaction in his voice. As if the universe had just confirmed he was right.
But Black Widow didn't move.
Her eyes were fixed on the body. Her instincts were screaming again.
"Impossible..." she muttered. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was heavy.
She knew Tony's cluster cannons. She also knew John. The man didn't play by the rules. He didn't play by physics or probability either.
Something wasn't sitting right.
"You saw it," Stark said, gesturing again. "There's the body. What more proof do you need?"
She rubbed her temples, a headache already blooming behind her eyes. "Fine. Then I'm taking him back to S.H.I.E.L.D."
Tony's demeanor changed instantly. "Hell no. This guy's mine. I'm making it public—press conference tomorrow. I'll show the world I caught the psycho who bombed my bank."
"You can't do that!" she protested, stepping in front of him.
"He broadcast my vault going up in flames. Millions in damage. I think that earns me first dibs."
Black Widow crossed her arms. "And he assassinated my primary target in Berlin. Or have you forgotten that?"
"That's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mess," Stark snapped. "I've got a bigger audience."
Then, without warning, he moved to grab the unconscious figure.
Black Widow reacted instantly, a wire shooting from her wrist to wrap around his gauntlet. She tugged hard.
Stark stepped back, and for a second, they stood toe to toe. The tension between them could've shattered glass.
"Let go, Natasha."
"You let go first."
Stark narrowed his eyes inside the helmet. "If this keeps up, I'll just fry him where he lies."
He didn't mean it. But she didn't flinch.
Then, to his surprise, she dropped the line. "Fine. Take him."
Tony hesitated. That was far too easy. But he wasn't about to question a gift horse.
He stepped forward, bent down, and grabbed the clown's collar.
The body was lighter than expected.
Just as he lifted it—Boom!
The explosion wasn't as large as the first, but it was sudden and close—right in his hands.
"Shit!"
He flew backward, armor scraping across pavement. Black Widow was knocked off her feet too, skidding across the ground.
It wasn't lethal. But it hurt like hell.
The ringing in their ears was real. The heat. The pain. The disorientation.
Stark groaned as he pushed himself upright. "You've got to be kidding me..."
Natasha rolled onto her side, coughing, face streaked with soot. "Please tell me that wasn't what I think it was."
Together, they looked at the blast zone.
No body.
No blood.
Just a small jack-in-the-box.
It had burst open in the aftermath, spring extended, a clown head bobbing at the top. Tongue out. Eyes wide. As if laughing at them.
Tony Stark: "..."
Black Widow: "..."
"Damn it," she muttered.