Well I've been trying to keep these chapters around 1.5k words but this one wanted to be a longer and there wasn't a good way to cut it in half... So here's an extra long chapter let and I'm adding a bit more drama too. Hope you all enjoy! - Ali
As I walked back towards the room I was staying in, I suddenly felt frozen, as if my legs had turned to stone. There was an odd red light swirling around me, and I heard a voice from around the corner.
"Who are you and how did you get in here?"
A girl who looked a few years younger than me stepped into view. The light was coming from her hands and I couldn't imagine what it was or how the delicate movements of her fingers were controlling it.
"My name is Y/N. I was in an accident last night and Captain Rogers offered to let me stay here until Dr. Patel releases me to stay alone," I responded, "Please, just ask him."
"I don't have to," she said, as she lowered her hands and freed my legs, "You are telling the truth. I apologize."
"It's perfectly alright," I replied, "I would have done the same thing if I had... Powers..."
"My name is Wanda Maximoff," she said.
As I looked into her eyes I realized she was probably more nervous then I was, so I smiled gently in an attempt to put her at ease.
"It's nice to meet you Wanda. If you don't mind my asking, how did you get your extraordinary abilities?"
"HYDRA experimented on me," Wanda replied in a slightly cold tone.
"I'm so sorry," I replied.
"I volunteered," she said softly.
Was that guilt or defiance? I couldn't tell. "Well I'm sure you had good reasons," I said, "And if you're here that must mean that Captain America and the Avengers trust you, so I do too."
Wanda looked at me as if she was seeing deep into my soul. "I can read and control minds," she added hesitantly.
"That's really cool."
She had just the faintest hint of a smile, and her whole body seemed to relax, "Nice to meet you, Y/N."
I smiled back, "You too, Wanda."
We went in our separate directions and I wondered what had happened to her to put that haunted look in her beautiful eyes.
I shook my head gently and focused on getting my pistol. Back home I was considered an excellent shot, but I was sure I'd seem like a poor shot compared to the Avengers. Certainly I would if compared to Hawkeye, but I hadn't seen him around. I popped into the room, picked up the purse and headed out. I didn't have any extra ammunition but I was sure the Avengers had plenty of bullets of every caliber.
When I walked back out I saw a... man? His face was red; not red as in blushing red from exertion or embarrassment, but actually bright RED, with silver metal on the sides and top of his head and a glowing yellow gemstone in the center of his forehead. Despite that, his eyes looked human and seemed kind. He was dressed in a sort of tight blue bodysuit with a golden cape hanging from his shoulders.
"Hello Miss Y/L/N," he said when he saw me, "I am Vision. Captain Rogers informed me that we have a guest. I hope you are feeling better this morning?"
"I'm much better, thank you," I replied, "I'm sorry it's probably rude to ask but - are you an alien?"
"It is quite alright. I am an android, created in Dr. Cho's regeneration cradle from vibranium bonded with synthetic organic tissue."
"Wow." I said, mentally cursing my inarticulacy.
"May I escort you to the training area?" Vision asked politely.
"Yes, thank you." I replied.
As we walked I marveled at everything that had happened in the last 12 hours. So far I'd met a super-soldier from the 1940's, a man who can fly, one of the world's greatest assassins and spies, a girl who can read minds, and a polite British android made from vibranium. If I was still working for the paper-which-must-not-be-named I would have stumbled upon the story of a lifetime, but I wasn't a reporter anymore. Still, I wondered if maybe I should write a piece about my experience for the blog I would have to start. Titled something along the lines of, "72 Hours at the Avengers Facility"... Then again no one would ever believe me.
By the time we arrived the Avengers had already started training. I saw Wanda and to my astonishment she was flying through the air, with the red light I'd noticed earlier streaming from her hands. She seemed a bit uncertain and her flight was somewhat choppy, but hey, flying is flying. Steve and Sam were doing some American Ninja Warrior-esque obstacle and strength training, and Natasha was shooting at a military style target. After watching her for a few minutes I began to regret my decision to practice with them. Even when I was practicing every day she would have made me look like an amateur, and I hadn't shot a gun in over a month. She stood there calm and poised as she passed the gun back and forth between her right and left hands, striking the bullseye of the target with such accuracy that I couldn't even tell which was her dominate one. If Black Widow was this good a markswoman, Hawkeye must even be more incredible than I had imagined.
Vision must have sensed my anxiety because he leaned towards me and said with a smile, "This is not a competition Miss Y/L/N. You do not need to be intimidated."
I was surprised that an android could be so perceptive of human emotion. All I'd ever seen about androids and robots in movies had lead me to believe that they were unemotional, non-empathetic and, well, robotic. No pun intended. I smiled my thanks and hoped that my crippling social anxiety wouldn't get the better of me as I walked nervously over to Natasha.
She placed the now-empty pistol down on a small table next to an identical one. "What kind of gun do you have Y/N?" she asked.
"Glock 19," I replied.
She nodded approvingly. "Glock 26," she said, gesturing to her pistols.
"Nice," I replied. Nice? Seriously? Do better Y/N!
"How many magazines do you have with you?" she asked.
"Just one. 15 rounds. There's a bullet in the chamber too."
She raised an eyebrow slightly, "Expecting trouble?" she asked.
"Not necessarily expecting trouble," I replied carefully, "Just ready for it."
She nodded again and handed me a pair of safety glasses and tactical ear muffs as she said, "We have plenty of ammunition so just ask for a new mag when you run out."
"Thank you," I replied.
"Let's see how well you can shoot that thing Y/N," Sam called out. I turned to see that everyone except Wanda (who was standing on the ground now levitating some weights) had stopped training to stand around and watch me.
Great. Oh well, it's just like a gymnastics meet. Except this isn't gymnastics and they aren't gymnasts and they're basically celebrities and I'm out of practice and I've had a crush on one of them for years and they can probably all shoot better than I can in their sleep. So kinda like the meet when my ACL was sprained. Except 100 times worse. Fun.
I put on the protective gear and picked up my pistol, taking it off safety with it pointed at the ground. I wished my arm wasn't broken, but I knew how to shoot with one hand so I hoped it wouldn't be too much of an issue. I lifted the gun slowly and steadied my breathing as I stared through the sights. Just like I would back home. I let it all fade away, focusing only on the target. For just a few seconds nothing else mattered and all I could hear was the sound of my heart beating as it slowed down to an even pace. I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as I pulled the trigger. Bang! The gun recoiled as the bullet whizzed through the air and buried itself in the target, just a few centimeters away from the X in the center of the smallest circle. I grinned slightly. I'd forgotten how good that felt. To only have to focus on a red dot and a trigger, to measure my success by such a simple standard - a hit or miss, no grey area, no "maybe" or "almost." Bang! bang! bang! I fired again and again and again, emptying the mag. I was definitely rusty, but at least the bullets were grouped pretty tightly. I laid the gun down on the table and removed the ear muffs.
"Pretty damn good for someone who's out of practice," Steve said.
"Language Cap," a man's voice called out, making Steve roll his eyes and sigh in annoyance.
I spun around to see a dark haired man in a Black Sabbath t-shirt with a cup of coffee in one hand.
So this is the infamous Tony Stark.
"Who is this lovely young woman and why is she here?" He asked, pointing at me as his gaze swept boldly over me. I'd always thought the rumors about him were exaggerated but apparently they were true.
"I'm Y/N," I said, "I was in an accident near here and Captain Rogers found me and brought me here. I hope that isn't a problem..." I trailed off nervously.
"It was partly Cap's fault," Sam quipped, "He was running too fast and distracted her."
"That is absolutely terrible," Tony said, giving me the elevator gaze one last time, "But I'm glad Cap recused you. What do you do?" he asked.
"I'm a journalist," I replied.
A look of surprise and maybe a little suspicion crossed his face, "Where do you work? What paper? Times?" he asked.
"I'm currently unemployed."
"Well that sucks," he said with a sort of pout, "I'll talk to Pep, see what I can do. Keep shooting that thing. You're pretty good. Cap? Can I have a word?"
Steve nodded and walked over towards Tony.
"I'll come too," Natasha said, then turned to me, "You're welcome to keep practicing Y/N. Sam can show you where the mags are."
They exited the training area together and I couldn't help but wonder if they were talking about me. From the look on Tony's face when I told him I was a journalist, I assumed they may have been worried that I was there undercover to get information for a story about them. Wrecking your car and breaking your arm just to get a story is pretty extreme though, even for the most hardcore investigative journalists.
Sam showed me where the magazines I needed were, and I noticed that they did indeed have an extensive selection of high quality ammunition. I'd expect nothing less from the Avengers.
Wanda joined me and practiced levitating knives and throwing (is it still called throwing if you use red magicky stuff?) them at targets. She was terrifyingly accurate, and didn't talk to me any more than was necessary. I couldn't decide if she was nervous and socially awkward, or hurt and bitter, but for whatever reasons she seemed closed off and intensely focused on her training. I tried not to think about her much, since she could read my mind and I didn't want to hurt her feelings.
Sam, who was flying through obstacles and Vision, who was using the yellow stone on his head (which seemed to emit a sort of laser beam) to cut large blocks of concrete, stopped every now and then to call out encouragement.
After emptying two more magazines, I noticed my aim was getting sloppier so I decided to go back to my room. I would have loved to stay longer but given my concussed state I chose to use discretion. I thanked the remaining Avengers for their help and for letting me train with them and shyly complimented each of them on their incredible talents. Wanda smiled softly when I spoke to her, and I noticed a sadness in her eyes that made me determine to try to befriend her as much as possible within my 72 hour stay.
I was actually in a pretty good mood as I walked back to the room, until I overheard a conversation about me.
"She could me a damned spy for all you know and you just pick her up and bring her here?"
"She was bleeding and unconscious on the side of the road, Tony, what the hell was I supposed to do, leave her there?"
"I hate to say it Rogers but I have to agree with Stark on this one. We don't know anything about her and she's awfully good with a gun."
"Exactly! Cap, did you even think to ask her why she was on that road in the first place?"
"The girl was unconscious, Tony. What, do you think she totaled her car and broke her arm and nose just so I'd pick her up and bring her here?"
"Maybe, I don't know. It's not 1945 anymore!"
"I'm painfully aware of that. If it was 1945 we wouldn't be standing around here arguing over whether or not it was right to save a young girl from a car crash."
"Boys! It's not going to do us any good to stand around arguing. No one's saying it was wrong to help her, Rogers. We just need to know a little more about her if she's going to stay here for the next two days. She said she worked at a paper right?" There was a pause in which I assumed Steve nodded. "So we ask her the name of the paper. That's easy to check out. Tony can run a background check on her. If she is a spy we'll deal with it."
After that the conversation dropped to a lower tone, and I had no desire to hang around and listen any longer. It was worse than I had imagined. They didn't think I was trying to get a scoop for a tabloid, they thought I was a spy! I headed up to the room and waited for the inevitable interrogation. I didn't have a criminal history, but there were questions about my past that I didn't like to answer. Oh well. Leaving would have only made them more suspicious, and my car was totaled, which meant that even if I didn't have a pounding headache, I'm wasn't going anywhere any time soon.