Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or anything affiliated with them. All of what you recognize as belonging to Marvel, most likely does. The O/C and any words that are not English nor any other language (feel free to check) belong to me. I do not own the quote, either.
"Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?" {Abraham Lincoln}
"Are you hungry?"
Doctor Banner held out a hand questioningly, standing just inside the large cupboard. He was asking me. Oh. My stomach grumbled morosely. I was hungry. It had been three days since I had paid any attention to that particular necessity, three measly days since telling my life story...And catching up on information about certain people.
"Um, yes...actually." I answered, staring at the small smudge marks on the glass tabletop. I looked up at him, half-listening to the explosive bangs and crashes coming from one floor below. The others were in the training room. Doctor Banner, however, had respectfully declined to join them. He had said that it would be 'too dangerous'. Suspicious, so what could this small, mild-mannered Doctor do that would be dangerous?
Doctor Banner walked over to the table, pulling out a chair and passing me a sandwich. I smelled it tentiatively. Ham, cheese and mayonaisse, nice.
"Thanks," I said appreciatively, munching on my sandwich as he sat across from me. I swallowed as he began picking at his sandwich. "If you don't mind me asking, Doctor Banner. What is it that you can do that you describe as 'too dangerous'?"
A ghost of an emotion I couldn't place flashed behing the Doctor's dark brown eyes. I looked closer, not letting my expression shift so as to make him feel uncomfortable. His eyes looked slightly tortured and world-weary. There was a certain darkness about him that seemed to give him his own secluded space. The rest of the Avengers seemed to respect his large personal bubble as if it were something usual.
Shock replaced the calm, serene look on his face, it cleared and he looked slightly uncomfortable. I cleared my throat, sandwiches lying forgotten on both of our plates.
"If you would rather not tell me, it's okay" I said hurriedly. He shook his head.
"It's not exactly what I can do. And it would be easier if I showed you, it isn't something I am completely comfortable with, though" The Doctor looked down at his sandwich, then up at me again, and I smiled reassuringly.
"You don't have to show me unless you want to, Doctor Banner"
"Call me Bruce"
"Of course" I got to my feet, taking my half-eaten sandwich with me. "I am going to go down and watch the others train."
"I'll come with you" He got up, taking his plate to the sink. I followed suit. I followed him down to the training room, where the scraping sound of metal against metal echoed down the hall. The door slid aside to let us in. Prince Thor and Steve Rogers were in the center, fighting strong. It looked as if neither was tiring, or was going to any time soon. Agents Barton and Romanoff were up on the rafters. Stark was on the floor, fiddling with what looked like a red helmet. It clicked then. Mr Stark was the ever-spoken for Iron Man, Captain Rogers was the sleeper-in-the-ice, Captain America. That...Bruce...Bruce was the worldbreaking Hulk...Oh.
I was in the presence of certain death...if they chose, which they wouldn't unless I screwed up...Right?
Everyone stopped, Romanoff smiled, jumping down from the rafters. I laughed lightly, looking up at Barton, still poised there.
"Since when does a Hawk sit in the rafters?" I called up. He jumped down.
"Since now, wanna face me, Forrest?" I didn't get the joke, neither, apparently, did Thor or Steve. I raised my fists playfully.
He dropped his bow and I stowed my amulet back away under the cover of my Firtik uniform. I walked onto the mat as Tony looked up, half-heartedly putting his helmet down to watch.
"You don't stand a chance" Hawkeye said, and Thor, who now stood beside Steve at the far wall, laughed throatily. I put my hands down at my side and closed my eyes, bowing until my torso was parallel to the floor.
"Rek yuni qua fiatir, fir ak Gheits" I said loudly. I paused before translating into English, having forgotten that they didn't understand. "We fight with honour, for the Kings"
Barton rolled his eyes as I straightened. I steadied myself, one foot behind me. I put my fists up steadily. I smiled as the pink, fleshy colour of my skin paled, my fingertips quickly turning red, the colour faded to a transparent yellow at my elbow. In the reflection of the steel wall I saw my blood red pattern that practically cut through it. A thin, red line crossed diagonally over my left eyelid, the bridge of my nose, ending on my right cheek. I much preferred this look to my disguise, my normal slender nose and almond shaped eyes fit my thin face better than it had the round, boisterous face that Father had chosen to be my disguise. My eyes burned brightly, my stare was sharp. One orange eye, one blue. The mark of a defected Byfredonnian. No-one's pattern was ever the same, but no-one had eyes the same colours as mine. Mother used to say it was what made me special...I hated it.
I winked at Barton, his eyes were wide. He noddded quickly. I smiled as he swung his fist at me. I flashed up an arm, blocking his swing with my forearm. He grinned snarkily as his left foot tried to quickly unbalance me. I jumped over his leg as he dropped. I flipped backwards, dodging the next swing of his leg. I landed catlike, he had a fast, hard swing...It was very hard to dodge him. He raised his fist, we began circling.
I threw my fist quickly, he moved his head out of the way, returning with a harsh roundhouse kick, I didn't bother to move and I tensed as his shin collided with my thigh. My grin widened as he clutched his leg. On instinct I quickly lowered my hands and waited, neutral as he recuperated. He froze as he stood. He eyed me closely.
"I was down, why didn't you finish it?"
I smiled kindly "I only fight if the other has the same advantage of readiness" I bowed and walked off the mat.
Tony got to his feet "Alright, my turn, kiddo" I turned on my heel, nodding at Stark as we both got onto the mat. He put on his helmet and the faceplate slid up. I laughed and raced over to the weapons display. I gestured to a aluminium pole.
'May I?"
"Sure" Stark said. I pulled the bar off the stand with a click. I held back a breathy laugh as the chant from some 20 years ago reverberated through my head.
Weirdo, Wierdo, Kami can't fight, no.
Strange one, strange one, Kami's power came undone.
"Ready?" He asked. I felt a strange sense of foreboding, but the exhilerated feelings overrode it. I nodded. He raised his hand and a high-pitched whirring sound followed. The circle of light in the gauntlet brightened, before sending a jet of light straight towards me. I used the aluminium pole to deflect it, and the pole hummed oddly as the electric blast made contact. The hum sent slight tremors through my arms, travelling trough my body until they reached my feet, then they recirculated. Curious...
"Stark, again!" I called, and I could hear the smile in his voice when he replied:
"Okay, kid. Get ready"
"Aim low!"
"Whatever you say"
Again the blue beam shot towards me. On a whim I dropped the pole, oblivious to the others' cries of shock. I stuck out my hands and waited for the beam to make contact.
When it did, it merely disappeared into nothing. I felt a small wave of disapppointment rush through me. It kept bouncing back and increasing as it made it's way up and down, up and down. I then realised it wasn't disappointment, but power. The power that I felt runing through me was trremendous, terrribly wonderful. It surged through me, a cool sensation that wasn't entirely unwelcome. As it made it's way up to my hands, I shouted to Stark.
"Look out!"
I clapped my hands together before me, and there was a great crackling of electricity and an explosive crash.
Long tendrils of energy issued from between my hands, reaching out like long, slender fingers to Tony Stark, who stood motionless. It was like watching a Tesla coil overload, the trails of energy flickered across the room, almost as if they were dancing, dancing a violent, scorching tango. I felt my energy begin to drain away, as if someone were deliberately pulling it out of me, piece by piece.
In one final surge, the force of it pushed me backwards, and I skidded backwards across the floor, before falling and landing on my hands and knees.
"Guys, what just happened?" I asked, exhausted. I got wearily to my feet.
No answer.
"Kamietro, your Amulet!" Steve called, and I looked down at it just in time to see it slip to the floor, the chain burned and broken.
I cried out, one short yell. It contained all of my negative emotions, loss, disbelief, anguish. But most of all, pain. A great tug of war game began in my chest, ripping, tearing. My hand clutched feebly at the front of my shirt. I gasped in agony as another part of my chest tore itself away from the whole, and an icy cold loomed over me, spreading through my defeated body.
It was as if a black veil had been draped over my eyes, steadily getting darker as the team rushed over to me, too slow, much too slow.
I was unconscious before my head hit the floor, and dead not a minute later.