Chapter Twenty-Six

NOTE: This chapter is very, very long, and contains mild drug reference/content.

Rosie:

After the horrifying terrorist's broadcast, I won't lie, I bolted from the table almost immediately. No one was able to stop me either—they were all in too much shock from what we all had just witnessed.

This week was swiftly going from worse to nightmarish. Not even ten minutes after all of the world finds out that I'm the daughter of Tony Stark, a chilling man threatens all of America. And if America is threatened, so are the Avengers. And if the Avengers are threatened, they are all in danger. And if they're all in danger, that meant so was Tony, which meant that I might as well paint a giant target on my forehead for all the terrorists in the world to see.

The thought chilled me. I thought of rich Ian Ald. He would know how much this terrified me. What if he then formed some sort of alliance with the terrorists?

I shuddered, wiping the sweat from my brow. Like my dad, I turned to work to clear my head. When I fled the table, I made a beeline for the garage, firmly locking the door behind me. My back slid down the door, and I landed on the floor with a clumsy thud. I buried my head into my hands, fingers tugging at the roots. I was sick of being surrounded by danger. Not only was I a level seven—a danger by myself—but now I had to be concerned with Alistair and the rest of the gang, as well as being up for grabs by all the enemies of S.H.I.E.L.D..

Could this week get any worse?

I sighed deeply, trying very hard to keep my blood pressure from getting too high. After a while, I pulled myself to my feet, and decided to rummage around the garage a bit. It was full of shelves, stocked with different appliances and tools, some of them ordinary instead of extravagant and advanced. I found a red toolbox behind an old cardboard box of ratty clothes. The toolbox brought a sort of smile to my face. Rolling up my black sleeves, I turned to my truck, and began working. Submerging myself into the engine of my truck had become a ritual for me whenever I felt mad or upset.

I guess Pepper was right. I was more like Tony than I thought.

That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, don't get me wrong. Granted, Tony was a stubborn asshole sometimes, but it was undeniable that I had inherited certain traits from him. I delved into my work, and instantly all thoughts of the terrorist were cleared from my mind. All thoughts of Fury, of S.H.I.E.L.D., of everyone and everything were gone, all except my baby's engine. My poor truck. The old thing was always needing to be tinkered or repaired. His exterior was that of a tank, but his insides were delicate and fragile, breaking much too easily. I smirked, working the screwdriver over the engine. That was why I loved my old truck—he was more like me than I knew.

I leaned back up, taking an elastic from my wrist and pulled my hair into a sloppy braid, looking at my truck long and hard. It was sad that I had a better connection with my truck than I did with most people. Of course, my truck didn't make me angry, which didn't set me off, which wouldn't send me into a wild rage that surged the darkness into my heart more. I sighed. If only there was a way to stop the darkness—

Wait.

I cocked my head to the side, looking over my tank of a truck thoughtfully. I still had a full tank of gas. We hadn't used too much to get to the carnival, seeing as it was just a couple miles down the road. My eyes flickered to the scars on my wrists, then back to my truck. Maybe…

No, Rosie. The rational side of my mind scolded. That is an absurd idea.

The other side, the rebellious, sarcastic, more dominant one, scoffed. Absurd, my ass. What's absurd is you standing here over a truck when you should be figuring out what to do about this darkness. You know the facts, use your head! This stuff will kill you if you don't do something about it.

Use my head? I am using my head! The rational side nearly shrieked. What do you want to do? Go running to them for answers and quite possibly get yourself killed? That's dangerous, Rosie!

Danger is your middle name. You're a level seven, remember? You're practically the most dangerous thing out there.

And also the stupidest if you go through with this plan. It's ridiculous.

You're ridiculous.

How mature of you, Rose.

I threw my messy braid over my shoulder, sighing at the argument going on in my head. Both sides had valid points, but only one could be the winner. And I knew which side I was going to listen to. A heavy creak filled the stale air as the door opened. I glanced over at the newcomer. It was Bruce.

Shit.

"Hey, Rosie," Bruce said with a cordial smile, gently closing the creaky door behind him. "Thought I might find you in here."

"Hey," I said, throwing the words over my shoulder as I turned my eyes back to my baby, snatching the wrench from the toolbox. "How's it going?" I asked, eyes glued firmly to the engine. I heard him take several steps towards me, and my body tensed. Bruce could read me like a book. I didn't want turn to greet him, let alone dare to meet his eyes. The absolutely preposterous plan that was forming in my head was one that he would be able to figure out easily, just by taking one look at me. I couldn't have that. My life literally depended on it.

"I'm alright, I guess. Same as everyone else," Bruce said. "Just a bit shaken up from the broadcast. Everybody is." He moved to stand next to me, and I could feel his eyes burning into my face. A blush crept to my cheeks. It was nervous blush, a bad-nervous blush, different from the one I had with Steve. I busied my hands quickly, dirtying them with the grease of the engine.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Hm?" I said, feigning like I hadn't heard him, like I was too entangled in my work to comprehend his question.

"With the Mandarin's broadcast," Bruce said. "I mean, he's an enemy of the Avengers now, which means he's an enemy of Tony…"

"The Mandarin? Is that what they're calling him?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound too intimidating. Kind of reminds me of salad dressing. Or oranges."

A low chuckle rumbled in Bruce's chest. "You do have a unique way of looking at things, don't you, Rosie?" he said, and I could tell that he was smiling.

"Yup," I said, popping the 'p,' my voice flat as stone. I could almost feel Bruce's smile disappear. I kept my eyes on the truck's engine, trading the wrench for a fine screwdriver.

"What's wrong, Rosie?" Bruce asked. "You know you can talk to me if you want. I promise I won't judge you."

"I'm fine," I said, and glanced up at him for assuring emphasis. But I had answered all to quick. I scurried to cover up my mistake. "I just need time to work. And think. And tinker. And work." Well, that was convincing. "Look," I said, running a hand through my hair. "Life isn't exactly going my way right now. I'm stressed, I'm dangerous, and I might be dying." Bruce flinched at the last part. "I just need some time to be alone. And think about everything. Wrap my head around it all, you know?"

I made sure to say the words slowly, accentuating in all the right places. Still, I had an odd feeling that Bruce wasn't convinced. "It's alright, Rosie. I get it," he said comfortingly. "But just know that I'm here for you if you ever need to talk, or if you need help with anything." His eyes fell to my truck. "Except for that. I think that's more Tony's area of expertise."

I gave a short laugh and a small smile, which the Avenger returned. I watched as he, without another word, turned on his heel and headed out the door. Five more steps… Four… Three… Two… One…

The moment that door closed, I slammed the engine hood shut. I threw the toolbox to the ground, hastily wiping the excess grease from my clammy hands. I hurried over to the garage door, lifting it open as fast as I could. The warm breeze hit my face, and I scrambled over to my car.

This was mad! This plan was utterly, purely mad!

And yet it was brilliant.

I was so going to be caught for this.

But it would be worth it.

The sun shone brightly into the garage. I jumped into the driver's seat, nearly slamming my foot in the door as I closed it with haste. My truck roared to life like a dying beast, and I saw the door to the inside open just as I pulled out of the driveway. I didn't so much as look back, putting the petal to the metal and racing down the driveway as fast as I could, leaving a trail of dust in my wake.

It was time to go the once place I knew best, to the people who knew my darkest secrets.

It was time to go to Blackberry Boulevard.

Bruce emerged from the basement, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Rosie had seemed… Off. Distant, somehow. When he had come into the garage, she looked surprised, like he'd pulled her out of some very important thoughts. She had barely met his gaze the entire time he was down there, even tensed up when he went to stand by her.

Was there something going on? Did she know something he didn't?

"Bruce," Steve called, pulling the man from his thoughts and back into reality. The super soldier's blue eyes were wide with concern. "You alright?"

"Fine," Bruce said, waving his hand as if he were waving away a fly. "Rosie's just acting a bit strange. That's all."

Steve stiffened at his words, his eyes going from concerned to viciously alert, as they always did when Rosie's name was mentioned. "Strange?" he asked, his voice slightly alarmed. "What do you mean, strange?"

"She was tense when I went in there," Bruce explained. "Wouldn't look at me, kept her eyes on her car the whole time." He paused for a moment, and Steve's eyes bore into his, demanding more information. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she was hiding something."

She was hiding something.

That was all it took. Steve went, bolting from his friend's side. He was running to the garage as fast as his legs could carry him, which was very quickly, as a matter of fact. He threw the door open with a considerable amount of force, hard enough to dismantle it from the wall. The huge garage door was open, sunlight and summer air pouring through the gaping opening. His eyes searched the spacious garage vigorously, but there was no denying it.

The red truck was gone. And so was the red-haired girl.

A fading object caught his eye. It was a trail of dust, rippling down the driveway. His brows furrowed. Then he realized it—She'd taken off.

"Dammit, Rosie," Steve mumbled under his breath. "What are you doing?" He quickly went over to his black motorcycle, which was gleaming in the corner. What was she doing? What was she thinking? Where was she going? Mumbling under his breath, Steve fired up the engine. It purred like a kitten, filling the garage with the sweet sound. Then, without another word to Bruce, a second thought of where Rosie was going, he took off after her.

Rosie:

Almost forty minutes later, I arrived on Blackberry Boulevard. I recognized the sign from miles away, streaked with gang colors and symbols. It was exactly the same as I remembered it, not that I was expecting it to change. Gang members lined up and down the street, all of them with very powerful weapons concealed under their baggy pants and leather jackets. Bandanas were wound around heads, arms, and thighs, all signaling loyalty to the gang that owned Blackberry. Some of them hooted and hollered as I drove by, making makeshift guns with their fingers. I kept my eyes on the road, slowly pulling up to park in front of an alleyway off of Blackberry. An alleyway I knew too well.

I climbed out of the car without hesitation. Sadly, these were the people I'd grown up with. Throw the right names along with the right words and people would back up immediately. I knew what to say to these people to save my ass. Still, I double-checked that the car doors were locked.

Pulling my hair out of my braid, I mussed it up with my fingers. I made my expression hard, unreadable. Lesson one of living on Blackberry—be expressionless. Always. It made you less of a target that way.

I made my way down the darkened alley, boots clacking against the uneven cobblestone. I already knew they were down there. This was their meeting place—it had always been, as far back as I could remember. I heard giggling laughter as I went further into the shadowy alleyway, and tiny flames began to appear at the end, no doubt from cigarettes or cigars.

"Grave Robber," I called out, my voice strong and demanding. I knew full well that Alistair was at the end of the alley, along with a dozen or so other gang members. The giggles and laughter faded away, and I was met by six or seven prying eyes, all of them reclining on a dumpster scoured with graffiti.

"Hey, who's that?" a girl with long blonde hair asked. She was no doubt a gangster, but one that I hadn't seen before.

"You a newcomer?" said a teen boy with a blue spiked Mohawk, joint in his hand.

"Please, Wires," a black haired girl said with a flick of her wrist. "She's probably here to collect money from Grave Robber. He probably did her last night."

The group of gangsters snickered, and I snarled. "I'm no prostitute," I said, my words biting. "And I'm no newcomer. I was part of Blackberry's gang when all of you still had a seven-thirty bedtime."

"Ah, Missy Krueger!" Alistair exclaimed, unfolding from the shadows, mock excitement to his voice. "I knew it was just a matter of time until you showed up again. Just can't stay away from me can you?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes at my pathetic excuse for an ex-boyfriend. "Like the new recruits?" he gestured to the small group of teens. "Just getting to know them before I send them out on their first hit."

I snorted. "First hit? Robber, they look like they could still be in middle school."

"Middle school?!" the blonde from before shouted, jumping to her feet, cigarette flying from her hand. "I'll have you know that I've had sex with twenty men! And all of them paid me!"

My face twisted into disgust. "Isn't that lovely," I said sarcastically. "People like you make me happy that I'm still a virgin."

"Oh, don't pay any mind to Desire," Alistair said, rubbing the blonde prostitute's back sensually. "She's only a couple of weeks old."

"I'm a month old now," Desire huffed. Bad move. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, causing Desire to yelp.

"I don't fucking care," Alistair growled into her ear, and the girl cringed, like I once had when I was one of Alistair's puppets. His green eyes lifted to mine, looking up and down my body like I was a sort of prize. He made me sick.

"Saw your face on the news today, Krueger," Alistair said, his voice smooth again. He slowly came closer to me, more into view, his handsome, angular features twisting into a smile. I found Clueless rising to his feet. I hadn't realized he was behind the boy with the Mohawk.

"Yeah, you were on the news today!" Clueless sniggered, the sidekick on Alistair's side, repeating everything he said like a mindless four-year-old. As usual.

I didn't even roll my eyes at the ignorant man. "Shut up, Clueless, before I put a bullet through your useless skull," I growled at the idiotic brunette before turning back to Alistair, my eyes narrowed. "What about it?" I asked, my voice freezing.

"Tony Stark's daughter, huh?" Alistair said with a low chuckle, repeating the words of the reporter. The new gangsters behind him snickered. "I would've loved to know that tidbit of information back in the day. Maybe I could've got you to do a bit more shit while holding a gun to dear ol' dad's head." He smirked evilly. "So what're you doing now, Krueger? Laying in pools of money, sipping champagne, and bathing in liquid gold? Being daddy's little girl, I suppose?" he taunted. "Is that where you've been hiding out for these five months since your folks died?"

"I haven't been hiding out," I growled. "And I am not daddy's little girl, so don't even try to play that card with me."

"I'll play whatever card I want with you," Alistair growled, the smile running away from his face. "Especially after what you did to Bloody Maria."

His words caught me off guard. "What happened to Maria?"

"She's been in the hospital since the day we saw you at the carnival," he eyed me menacingly. "Ever since your little explosion. Whatever you did burned out both her eyes."

"Burned 'em right out," Clueless said, like an echo.

I raised an eyebrow. I didn't think I was that powerful. Thor must've been right. The darkness had gotten much stronger. "And what about you?" I asked, looking at the two gangsters carefully. "Neither of you were injured?"

"Wrong," Alistair said, and yanked up his pant leg to reveal a very badly burned calf. "You got me in the leg and Clueless in the chest."

I nodded in approval. "Good. You deserved it."

Alistair scowled. "I don't know what's happened to you, K. What you did wasn't human."

"How observant of you. Anything else you'd like to add, Captain Obvious?"

"Why have you come back?" he said, his tone flat. There was no fear evident in his eyes, but I could tell that his fingers were itching towards the gun secured in his jacket.

I sighed. "As ridiculous as it is, I actually need your help," I said. It pained me on the inside to say those words. I felt pathetic. Beyond pathetic—I felt worthless. Running back to my enemies? People that would try to kill me? Pretty desperate, aren't you, Rosie?

Alistair's mouth thinned into a fine, hard line. He was trying to decipher what I could possibly be talking about. Clueless, however, was staring at a butterfly in the distance. And that's why we called him Clueless.

"What kind of help?" Alistair asked. "If you're talking about me shooting you up I have no problem with that."

"I need drugs," I said, blurting the words out. "Drugs for controlling anger issues."

I figured that it'd be better to let it gush out rather than discreetly say it. Say it fast, rip it off like a band-aid. But it didn't make me feel better to get it done and over with. Actually, my hands began to shake at my sides. My stomach curled as Alistair's lips twisted into a smile. It wasn't a nice smile. It was a chilling one, one that I had learned to associate with when he wanted someone killed.

Shit.

"Drugs for anger issues, huh?" Alistair said. I swallowed hard before answering him.

"Yes. Preferably strong ones. One's that'll keep me calm all the time," I said, and my hands began to shake more violently. Thanks to the gloomy shadows, Alistair had no hope of seeing me trembling.

"Give her the Fool's contract!" Clueless said, suddenly snapping back into reality. That was the first time Clueless had said anything that really intrigued me. I narrowed my eyes at them.

"Yeah, the Fool's contract!" Mohawk boy shouted.

"Fool's contract!"

"FOOL'S CONTRACT!"

Alistair raised a hand, and the rowdy new gangsters behind him fell silent with frightened obedience. "Hm," Alistair mused, looking thoughtfully over at Clueless, his many facial piercings flickering in the dim light. "Fool's contract, eh? Clueless, I think that's the most intelligent thing you've ever thought of."

I raised an eyebrow. "Fool's contract?" I said suspiciously. "That doesn't sound too promising."

"Look, Krueger, here's the deal," Alistair drawled, stalking towards me. My back stiffened as he came closer. "There's only one way I'll give you your drugs. That's with the Fool's contract. It's not as bad as it sounds, really, just makes sure that you hold up your end of the bargain."

"And if I don't want this Fool's contract?"

"Then I assume you'll just have to find a way to get your drugs by prescription," he said, pouting his lower lip in mock disappointment. "Although I doubt any of the drug stores will have anything half as strong as what I can give you. But you knew that already, didn't you, K? That's why you came to me in the first place isn't it?"

I chose not to answer that—he already knew he was right. "Tell me about Fool's contract," I said firmly.

"Well, we'll give you the drugs," Alistair said. His pale hand reached inside his dark jacket, dangling a vial full of white pills between his fingers. "In fact, I'll be a good man. I'll give them to you right now."

He tossed me the orange bottle of pills, which I caught in one hand. There was no label on the bottle, just clear, orange plastic. "Now," Alistair went on, pulling my gaze back to him. "Since we all know that you're the daughter of one of the richest men in the world," he gave a mischievous chuckle. "We all know that you can afford to spend a little extra money." His eyes bore into mine, and I glared back.

"I want twenty thousand."

My eyes widened. "Twenty thousand?!" I exclaimed. "Are you insane?"

"Yes," Alistair answered simply. "But you knew that already, Krueger. Don't waste your pretty breath on things you already know."

I glanced at the bottle in my hand, then back to my gangster ex-boyfriend. I needed these drugs. Literally, needed them. The doctor's office was unable to prescribe me any kind of drugs that would be as powerful as the ones in my hand. I had to have them. My very life depended on it. It I took these drugs, they would keep me from getting angry. And if I didn't get angry, my heart rate wouldn't rise, which would only mean that the darkness wouldn't surge to my heart.

I could have a chance at living.

"Fine," I said. "You'll have your twenty thousand. Just give me a couple days."

He smiled again, making my stomach perform frightened somersaults. "Good," he said. His eyes were triumphant. "I'm sure daddy won't even notice it's absence, hm?"

I growled at him. His smile grew broader. I turned on my heel, boots sounding as I stalked away from the gangsters, gripping the drugs firmly in my hand. The vial dug into my palm. My mind was reeling at what I just agreed to. How was I going to snatch twenty thousand dollars? But this was Grave Robber and Clueless we were talking about. Well, maybe I could just rip them off—

"Oh, and Krueger," Alistair called from behind me. I stopped, turning my eyes to the gangster man again. "Just so you don't try and snub me, remember that you agreed to the Fool's contract."

My eyes narrowed. "What's your point, Grave Robber?" I hissed.

"It's Fool's contract, Missy Krueger," Alistair said with a Cheshire grin. "And you're the Fool." My eyes glared daggers at him, telling him to continue. He breathed a sinister laugh.

"If you don't give us the money, we'll take your eyes."

My breath caught in my throat. "Just a bit of payback for Bloody Maria," Alistair added, a malevolent glint in his eye. I wanted to scream, but all the air had abandoned my lungs. "Sleep tight, Krueger."

Clueless broke into crazed, sadistic laughter then, to which Alistair eagerly joined in. The rambunctious newcomers behind him took part in the cackle. I took off running, as fast as my feet could carry me, the sound of their manic laughter echoing down the alleyway, chasing me back to Blackberry Boulevard.

"Give us the money or we take your eyes! Give us the money or we take your eyes! Give us the money or we take your eyes! Ahahahahaha!"

I've been going on a writing binge lately… Hehe, and I've also started a new Avengers story called Mirage, which I uploaded yesterday. I hope some of y'all check it out, because eventually the main character in Mirage and Rosie will cross paths. Anyway, I hope y'all liked the chapter, and I'll update soon as I can! Please favorite/follow/review, and great big thanks to all those who do! Until next time!

-Charlotte

In response to reviews…

ReadPaxJoy—I don't even know what to say except thank you! It took me so long to try and get the Mandarin part right, because I wanted it to be scary but still stay true to the actual broadcast he made. And I don't think I stress this enough, but thank you sooo much for reviewing:) I hardly get any reviews, and it means so much to me when I do so THANK YOU:3