"Lane. Get up."

I resisted, shutting my eyes tighter.

"Go 'way." I mumbled, gripping the sheets.

There was a hand on my shoulder, squeezing urgently. Fingernails dug in.

"Lane."

I recognized that tone of voice. And given where I was now-who I was now-there were few reasons why it would be sounding in my ear before dawn. Immediately, I shot up, rolling out of bed and heading to my dresser, beginning to strip.

"What happened and how long do we have?"

"Now you move." Natasha shook her head. "You really need a new earpiece. The Project. Downtown. We've got seven, except we really don't, so pick it up."

I pulled on my fitted bodysuit, slipped on gloves, and tugged on thick, steel-toed boots.

By the time we left my room, the grogginess was gone, replaced by the focus of a sharpshooter. By the time we reached the helicarrier, it felt as if I'd shot up with adrenaline.

The boys were already seated, on-edge.

"Are you sure it's best if we bring her along?" Steve asked, nodding in my direction.

I would have been offended, except he was right to question my effectiveness this time around. Nonetheless, I bit my lip, determined to prove him and everyone else who doubted me to be wrong.

That included myself.

"She's battle ready." Clint spoke up for me. "And besides, she's a tactical asset. She's something they want, for whatever means."

I saluted sharply. "Resident berserker and bargaining chip, reporting for duty." I sauntered over to take my place beside Bruce, keeping my head high and my words easy. I would have to deal with these control issues sooner or later. But I was forever betting on later.

"Natasha filled in the bigger blanks, but what exactly is going on?"

"The Project sent us a calling card." Tony said. "And I'm thinking they're not wanting to meet up for smooth jazz over martinis."

I closed my eyes, leaning back, feeling metal bite into my spine and shoulders. "No, the only alcohol they keep is pure and in glass bottles. It's a damn shame, too."

"Damn shame." Tony agreed solemnly.

We spent the next few minutes bouncing around battle strategies, debating whether it was in our best interest to make the first move. I joined in where I should, basing my commentary on my time with the Project. I tried to make it less obvious I was also gripping the edge of my seat and trying to find a center of gravity so I could face whatever the Engineers had laid out for us.

When we got on site, it turned out to be an abandoned warehouse. On the surface, there were only cobwebbed crates, metal shelves, and sawdusted floors. On the surface, there was nothing there of use to the Engineers. Which was dangerous, because it meant their threat was solely for the purpose of isolating us out here.

"This is sketchier than a blind date in a dark alleyway." Natasha said, shifting her weight, tensed to strike as soon as the moment called.

"Why exactly did we agree to this, again?" Bruce asked. He didn't seem too concerned. Then again, the Other Guy was better than any life insurance.

"Because Fury has reason to believe this is our best chance at crippling the Project before they can develop their operation any further." Steve said.

"Well, unless they're collectively moonlighting as a building, I think it's safe to say we've been ding dong ditched." Tony.

I shook my head. "No. They don't play games like that. If they said they're gonna be here. They're gonna be here." I paused. "Or they at least left something to trip us up."

Clint nodded. "Right. How about we Scooby Doo this?"

We split up, scoping the place out, looking for the snake in the roses. Or rather, rusty piles of iron. The warehouse was about as inviting as the tetanus shot you'd need to even consider touching the place. Natasha tagteamed with me, though I couldn't tell whether it was of her own volition or not. Someone didn't trust me to be on my own.

"Radio silence." She said as we came to another dead end.

"Not quite."

I spun, on a hair trigger, looking for the source of the voice. "What direction did that come from?"

"Did what come from?"

"That voice."

"Lane—I'm not hearing what you're hearing." We exchanged a tense look.

"I'm not crazy." I shook my head. "Not any more. We're not alone."

Natasha nodded. "Let's do this, then."

"But I want you alone." The voice sounded again, but like before, it didn't send ice up my spine. It was too familiar. There was motion just on the edges of my peripherals when I pinpointed who I knew it from.

"Jenny." I put myself between Natasha and her as she seemed to trickle from the shadows. Literally. Light caught on the curves and planes of her, liquid metal taking the shape of one of my former allies. One of my best friends. The metal pooled at her feet, revealing a strikingly human form. She wore something akin to a stark white romper, and impractical heeled boots. She didn't need external gear to be battle ready. The Impossible Girl. Where I was the finest weapon the Engineers had ever forged, she was their Mona Lisa. Their synthetic Gaia.

"Lane." Her white-blonde hair rustled without wind as she approached. It had been an intimidating noir before the Project. And that was the least of the changes they made. She put on a slight, serene smile for me now, but when she was not Genesis, she had a personality like the fire whiskey puts in your stomach. I had loved her for it. Needed her for it, even.

"Why did they send you?" I asked, giving Natasha a low hand signal to alert the others. Genesis was eternally at peace and pretty. Harmless and clueless, she was not.

"Their earlier invitation was admittedly a bit crude. I'm here to retrieve you, Lane." She stopped a few yards away, giving me space. "I can't shape my world without my Architect. My best Architect. The one I've got could get the job done, but I'm betting on you."

I shook my head. "Tell me, how far gone are you, Jenny? Just enough to make it through without self-destructing? Or did they burn you like a CD?" I whispered.

"Lane, are you sure it's wise to engage right now?" Natasha said, low.

"She's just stalling until the others get here." Genesis said, unbothered. "They won't get here, though, Lane."

My heart skipped a beat. "What did you do, Genesis?"

"Every quadrant of this warehouse is filled with traps, Lane. Microscopic traps to brush against. To breathe in." She flexed her fingertips, and Natasha fell abruptly. I didn't take my eyes off Jenny as I checked her vitals.

"What did you do?" I repeated. Her heartbeat was steady. She was just unconscious. I imagined the others lying in all corners of the dimly lit building, simply…turned off.

"I'm making this easy for you, Lane. So you don't feel all these moral trifles. So it's easier to let yourself go." She advanced, and I tensed, ready to fight no matter how unwilling. I slipped my glove off, letting it fall to the floor.

"We both know I'm not a soldier, Lane." Genesis smiled softly. "That's your role." She stopped just short of me, and I wondered why I didn't react. I should be taking her out. Instead, I stood, not paralyzed, but stationary. I'd lost all capacities. I grasped at my chest—gasping silently- as my heart slowed.

She extended her hand, lightly brushing my face with her fingertips. The edges of my vision began to blur, then grew ochre.

"I think I would want to be sorry." She murmured as I fell to the ground. "If that counts for anything."