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Foreign Recruit Snippets

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Tony was staring at him like he was a novelty to the human species and it was starting to irritate the crap out of Ichigo.

“The Soviet Union? Bill Clinton?” Tony squinted at him, wiggling his eyebrows. “James Bond? Please tell me you know who James Bond is.”

“I know, alright? Now why the hell are you asking all this for anyway?” Ichigo snapped. Tony shrugged.

“Read in your files your world is different from ours. Different history, different people. You know, the major things in life.”

“You consider James Bond to be major?” Ichigo asked flatly, not even surprised.

Tony grinned, hands forming finger guns before pointing offending appendixes at Ichigo. Being the man-child he was, Tony audited out fake pow pow noises in fast succession as he cocked his hands.

Ichigo resisted the urge to facepalm.

Sighing, Ichigo shook his head. The sooner he answered, the sooner the man would probably leave.

“Honestly? So far from what I’ve researched and seen, there’s not much differences in our worlds. Same wars, same governments screwing people and themselves over. Other than the advancing technology and the fact this world is six years ahead of mine, everything’s pretty much the same.”

Tony looked thoughtful before smirking. Ichigo was instantly suspicious.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep asking till I know what those differences are. Universe travel is still a new subject, considering you and Thor are the only proof of it.” Tony said with a gleeful tone.

Ichigo wanted to punch the rather smug look off of Tony’s face but didn’t think it was worth it. Somebody would probably do it later for him seeing how Tony had the insatiable urge to annoy the hell out of everyone he ever interacted with.

Besides, considering how curious and bullheaded the scientist usually was, he was actually getting a free pass here. Despite how agonizing the man could be, he never pried into Ichigo’s past and he appreciated that.

“Right.” Ichigo grunted. “Well, I’ve answered your questions today, so leave me the hell alone Stark.”

Tony snorted, thankfully turning away to leave.

“Fine. Be that way. Stay stuck in your room and listen to Taylor Swift and her breakup songs.” Tony said mockingly.


Tony halted in his tracks, face suddenly horrified.

"No. It can't- that's not- are you kidding me?" Tony whirled around, face disbelieving. "How the hell do you not know who Taylor Swift is? The iPhone I can understand, but this?! What rock have you been living under?"

"Well sorry to disappoint Stark." Ichigo snapped defensively. "Whoever this person is whether doesn't exist in my world, or wasn't that important. Deal with it."

Tony shook his head with dismay palatable on his features.

"This is a fucking travesty. We need to educate you on pop culture because this is just sad."

"I'll pass." Ichigo responded dryly, not really seeing what the big deal was. At the back of his mind, he wondered if Taylor whoever existed or not. Not that he had ever paid attention to social media.

History, yes. Pop culture? It was a world away to him. He wouldn’t touch it with a ten feet pole.

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Ichigo wanted to bang his head against the nearest flat surface because this was getting fucking ridiculous. After hearing about Loki’s rather stupid, oh-my-fucking-god-what-the-hell-were-you-thinking actions, Ichigo was now seriously considering strangling the Spirit King for dropping him off at such a damn, troublesome world with gods who seriously have issues.

“Oh my- Seriously?! Another one?!” Ichigo spouted out incredulously. “Kami, I thought I was through with emo idiots with existential issues! Ulquiorra and Aizen had been bad enough!”

Loki looked thrown off, clearly not expecting such a reaction.

“What?” the god blurted out, usual eloquence gone.

Ichigo groaned and dropped his head onto his palm.

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe this.” He muttered. “Okay, okay. Let me get this straight. You went on a damn rampage that almost got everyone killed, committed genocide, nearly killed your brother Thor, all because your dad didn’t tell you you were adopted?”

Ichigo shook his head. “Are you a fucking retard?”

Loki bristled, seething.

“He’s not my father.” He spat. “He lied to me my entire life-”

“Because he didn’t want you to think you were different.” Ichigo growled. “Look, I’m not saying I agree with what he did. But for god’s sake, that doesn’t justify killing off an entire race and having a temper tantrum that destroyed a friggin town in New Mexico dumbass! God, what are you, five? I thought you were a few damn centuries old!”

Good grief. Among centuries old shinigamis who act like a bunch of hyperactive children with bizarre personalities, was he really going to get stuck in the role as the only sane man alive again? Was this really his life?

“Couple thousands.” Thor murmured behind Loki with a sheepish look, the usually loud man having been quiet the entire conversation. Ichigo nearly gave himself a whiplash when he shot the thunder god a flabbergasted look before rolling his eyes so hard that it actually hurt.

Couple- for fuck’s sake.” He snarled out, hand itching for his sword so he could chop off both of the imbeciles’ heads and maybe Odin's too. It didn’t help how Shiro was practically egging him on to do it, jeering in the recess of his mind.

Sometimes, he really wanted to question his mental state.

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“SON OF STRAWBERRIES!” Thor’s voice boomed. Ichigo was going to fucking kill Stark for telling the thunder god about the screwed up translation for his name. “LET US CELEBRATE OUR VICTORY WITH A ROUSING DRINKS AND SONG!”

“I think you mean the other way around.” Bruce commented mildly with a humored smile, because the man was secretly a sadist who enjoyed watching Ichigo slowly go stir crazy because of the team. Ichigo’s pretty sure it’s payback for all the stress the shinigami has caused the gamma scientist.

Barton snorted over his beer before tossing his head back to drink. Natasha slightly smirked over her shot of vodka while Steve looked like he was trying hard to stifle a grin. Both looked perfectly unaffected after drinking a rather impressive amount of alcohol, Natasha for her Yoruichi-high alcohol tolerance – and wasn’t that a scary thought – and Steve for the serum that made it impossible for him to get drunk.

And thank the fuck for that. If all else fails, at least someone reliable would have a clear head among the chaos.

Tony was definitely buzzed and slightly slurred when he spoke up.

“Yeah Mr. Fruit basket.” Tony mocked because he apparently had a death wish. “Stop being a responsible stuck up and get wasted already. Relax and get that stick out of your ass.” Tony’s eyes squinted at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “Hang on, are you even old enough to drink? Eh, who cares. Drink away. Hell, even capsicle’s loosening up and god knows how long it took for that to happen.”

“No.” Ichigo stated flatly. “I have absolutely no interest in drinking myself to an early grave.”

Loki, who was lounging around on one of Tony’s expensive couches, idly swirled his glass of fine wine and quirked up a brow curiously.

“Truly though, can you drink? You’re twenty one, yes? I believe that’s the legal age of being able to drink in this country?” Loki pointed out with a wicked smirk.

“That doesn’t change anything.” Ichigo scowled and crossed his arms. “I’m not drinking and that’s fina- OOMPH!”

Thor somehow snuck up from behind him – a mystery seeing how big and loud he was – and wrapped his arms around Ichigo’s arms and body, making him immobile, before tossing him over his shoulder. Thor’s grip was firm and made it impossible for Ichigo to escape, which made Ichigo snarl like an outraged tiger.

“THOR! Let go of me you fucking- Loki! Do something!”

“Why should I give you my assistance? This is the best entertainment I’ve had in quite a while. Thor, do go on.”


“When I get out of this, I’m going to murder you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Good job Shakespeare! Now where did I put those sake bottles... I’m sure I have them here somewhere...”

The rest of the team watched the pandemonium unfold before them.

Loki was right. It was pretty hilarious to watch.

“Ten bucks says Ichigo’s a lightweight and that’s why he’s saying no.” Clint betted with a grin.

Bruce smirked as the others started to bet how long it would take for Ichigo to get drunk. Nobody needed to know that Ichigo actually had a pretty high tolerance and had one time outdrank five people under the table at the age of eighteen when he and Bruce somehow ended up at a bar and needed money at the time. The flabbergasted shock on the bar’s occupant’s faces who had betted Ichigo’s loss had been priceless. It had been quite an enlightening experience.

So Bruce had put in his two cents and waited patiently for the night to end so Ichigo could prove everyone wrong. Besides, the extra cash couldn’t hurt.

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“Look, this is nonnegotiable. You need to care about your public image!”

Both men glared at each other, neither giving an inch. This was an old argument, a topic that nearly drove Tony mad from how completely, mind-bogglingly stubborn the teenager was. Contrary to popular belief, Tony knew what he was doing (well, most of the times... okay, maybe not even that much but still).

But this kid here didn’t even give a shit. And while Tony would usually approve such an attitude, he really didn’t like it when it was affecting the team and him. Especially him. Seeing how he was the face of the Avengers, barring the Star Spangled Man who, shockingly enough, had quite the potty mouth on him. Put Ichigo and the Captain alone in a conference room together was a nerve-shuddering nightmare Tony would never let happen. Ever.

Just thinking about it made Tony the atheist want to pray.

Ichigo’s infamous scowl broadcasted quite clearly how much he loathed the idea of looking good. Tony will never understand him.

“Like hell I do. I don’t give a flying fuck what people think. Never have, never will.”

Tony tried hard not to throw his arms up in exasperation, for once feeling like the only sane man in the room which just wow, wow. What the hell was this team doing to make him the responsible one? Was it age? It had to be age.

(He found grey hair in his beard this morning. He will not speak of it.)

Fuck, he needed a vacation. Maybe on a deserted island with only Pepper and alcohol. Take a leaf out of Captain Sparrow’s book.

Though Pepper was a red head. Which was totally better than any blonde of the day. (Take that Keira Knightley.)

Hmm... There was a thought.

“Just think about it. People need to know you’re not gonna go off on some rampage and kill everyone.” Tony paused for a second, rapidly trying to grasp onto an argument the kid couldn’t shut down. He snapped his fingers when it came to him like a godsend.

“Okay, picture this. People need saving. They see you and scream and go hysterical because that’s what civilians are prone to do. Now how the hell are you supposed to get them to safety when they refuse to get in a five feet radius from you?”

Tony should’ve known what Ichigo’s response would be.

The teen’s response was instant.

“I would knock them out and drag them off whether they like it or not. There. Problem solved.”

Tony resisted the urge to scream.

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“I am getting you drunk if it’s the last thing I do tonight.” Clint said determinedly. The last attempt had been an utter failure, the young Japanese drinking all of them under the table with a steady pace. The smile Banner worn when they woke up the next day with the mother of all hangovers was practiced beautification in art form. Clint would hate him more if he hadn’t been in the kitchen with Tyenol and Gatorade at the ready.

Ichigo looked up over whatever Shakespeare book he was reading this time and gave him a look, unimpressed.

“You’re not gonna leave me alone until I say yes, aren’t you?” he made it sound more like a flat statement than a question. Clint cheerfully grinned.

“Nope!” he popped the sound out with delighted exaggeration.

Ichigo sighed. Miraculously, he closed the book in an attempt at humoring the resident archer.

“Fine.” He jabbed a finger at Clint. “But you’re paying.”

“That’s fine by me.”


Clint was the insistent curious type, so he wondered the entire day before night hit what kind of drunk the kid was. He was veering towards the grumpy silent type who brooded over their glass, as if it held all the answers to the universe and he just had to stare hard enough to find it.

He was wrong. God, he was so fucking wrong.

Ichigo was swaying in his seat, whole body nearly slumping over the table as both hands animatedly swished through the air and dangerously close to sweeping the shots off the table. There was a fever brightness in his eyes that only seemed to grow brighter and hotter the more he drank, an inextinguishable fire that was roaring with indignation and anger.

He was completely, utterly sloshed.

“It’s so- so stupid!” the man with bright colored hair slammed a fist on the table, inside voice completely shot to hell. They were attracting quite a lot of stares. “The world is just, one big pile of stupid! Everything’s stupid!”

“Uh,” Clint was still inwardly deciding whether this was the best or worst idea he’s ever come up with. “Ichigo, I think you should stop drinking.”

Ichigo dramatically pointed at Clint, his scowl not sharp as usual, and hiccupped loudly. It was perfectly, comedically timed.

“Fuck you.” He slurred out, blinking slowly. “You-you’re like everybody else. It’s stupid!”

“Yeah,” Clint said dryly. The man’s been repeatedly using that phrase for the last ten minutes. “So you’ve said.”

“It’s- everybody just- nobody cares.” Ichigo wailed. “Like fuck that. People are stupid and bad. And I wanna- I’ma gonna punch every single one of them. You know what?” suddenly, Ichigo stood up, nearly tripping over his own feet while doing so. “I’m gonna get right to that. Yup.”

Without any warning whatsoever, Ichigo swiveled around and punched the guy behind him.

Clint swore.

A few people screamed as the guy crashed to the ground, completely caught off guard from the sudden attack. Ichigo was completely unfazed by the reactions around him or the lady that had been sitting with the other at the table, and stomped a foot on the man’s chest. Hard.

“This guy,” Ichigo twisted his heel, causing the man to yelp in pain from the action. “was harassing this woman. And nobody’s fucking done anything. Like, all of you are like, so stupid or indif-fre-ferent. You whether knew it was happening, or didn’t notice.” He made a horizontal swiping gesture with his arm to encompass the whole room. The look on his face had the same effect as Steve Roger’s you-should-be-ashamed-of-your-self-son stare, all judgement and disapproval. “Anyway, stop standing around like a bunch of shitheads and do something idiots.”

Ichigo was, Clint noted kind of absently, a very articulate drunk when he wanted to be.

Ichigo abruptly turned to the woman and gave a little bow, unsteady and not as straight-backed as usual. “Sorry for the mess.”

“It’s fine.” She replied faintly, utterly lost. Clint couldn’t blame her.

Ichigo nodded his head repeatedly, doing a good impression of a bobble head, and proceeded to stumble out of the bar.

Clint glanced down at the two leftover drinks, and downed them both without hesitation.

He’s gonna need it.