[A/N:] Happy Fourth of July to my fellow 'Mericans!
THIS CHAPTER HAS A TRIGGER WARNING. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
[Steve]
My cheek stuck to the blue, vinyl mat of the boxing ring uncomfortably as the Phantom pinned me down to the floor even though I was three times her weight and muscle.
"What is this, the third time?" I panted, feeling her knee digging into my spine, her right foot holding down my right arm as her left hand pinned down my left wrist. Her touch seared against my skin as I laid there.
"Sounds about right." she smirked. "So, you gonna tap out or what? I'm getting bored."
With a grunt, I flipped us so that she was the one being held down by me, my hands wrapped firmly around her wrists. She now faced up, a scowl taking the place of her previously victorious expression.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked innocently, eyes wide.
The air was knocked from my lungs momentarily as she brought her feet up and kicked me hard in the stomach, loosening my grip. She sent me rolling to the side and easily stood, pressing her foot against my throat.
"I win." the Phantom deadpanned, face expressionless but gray eyes glittering.
"Fine, fine. You are the victor." I said breathlessly as she let me rise to my feet. I grinned despite my aching muscles. "Good fight."
"You, too." she said, exiting the ring and grabbing a water bottle out of a fridge that stood by the benches leading to the locker room.
I didn't mention that I had held back, not wanting to hurt her in her already fragile health. Quinn was a fighter, though, I would give her that. If she was in her peak physical condition and I wasn't holding back, she probably would've won, regardless.
"So, where are you heading after this?" I asked, wiping my sweaty face down with a towel after I had returned to the benches.
She shrugged, slipping her socks and shoes back on as she made her way over to me.
"Probably going to hit the shower and then go to the roof, try to figure out Vermont's next move."
I nodded, throwing my things into my forest green duffel bag. "I'm going to search through the League files again for the fiftieth time and see if we missed anything. I hate this, waiting to see what will happen. But it's not like we can burst into Fycon City's city hall and raid the place and arrest everyone known to be in the League. S.H.I.E.L.D's protocol states that we have to have solid proof or a known, verifiable threat with plenty of evidence."
"Protocols." Quinn scoffed. "Protocols and rules get you nowhere. The only thing that's keeping me from busting into city hall is my judgment, which tells me it wouldn't be wise to march in and demand to know what the League is up to. Surely someone would salvage whatever plan the "Instructor" has for them and just enact it at a different time. Vermont's cunning, he has backup plans in case whatever scheme he has fails."
I frowned at her. "Then why are we focusing on taking down just him and whatever's happening at the moment?"
"Because Vermont's cocky enough to include himself as a vital part of all of the plans." she replied simply. "Also, it's likely that he hasn't given full details about any plan to a singular member of the Inner Circle, just fragments to different members. That's a mistake on his part because when he dies, there will be confusion within the League about how to revive the plan. Take the base away from the tower and it crumbles."
When he dies. I thought, the phrase sticking out to me as there was also an implied statement hanging in the air. Corvus Vermont's death equalled Quinn's death, the grim fog lurking in the back of everyone's mind, the same that hovered on the future's horizon.
It was curious how Quinn was clearly not the bright and shining heroic type yet the Avengers were all working to try and save her from her impending death. Not just because if she died countless others would be at risk from the possible surge of energy from her soul breaking, but because we all genuinely wanted her to live, see more days.
Yet, we didn't even know the real Quinn. I was still unsure whether the mask covering her true self was the Phantom or Quinn. Maybe Quinn and the Phantom were one, the hard, unbreakable shell that I was trying to crack. Yes, I knew basic details about her past, about Talia. Somehow, I got the sense that Talia had died in the basement of her own home along with her little sister, Sophia. Talia Vermont had died the second she had become the Phantom, Quinn, when her soul was torn apart and roughly sewn back together.
I refused to believe that Quinn was completely hollow on the inside, though. There was more to her than what she thought there was, and I wanted desperately to find it. Why? I had no idea. Maybe it was because I felt the small spark between us of understanding, the connection that linked us together invisibly.
We're both out of time. Her in the figurative sense, me in the literal.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I realized that I was in the room alone. Quinn must have slinked out of the room while I was lost in my thoughts. Sighing, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed to my room to take a quick shower before I needed to get back to work and try to predict Vermont's next strategical move.
It was going to be a hell of a night, I could feel it.
[Quinn]
Curling fog rose from my breath and into the frigid air, blending into the gray sky as it dissipated. Winter wind whipped my dark ringlets against my face, my cheeks flushed from the bitter cold. My eyes slid shut as I took in the cacophony of sound that was New York: shouts, car horns, the quiet chatter of people, and the occasional airplane humming through the February sky.
Blocking out the noise, I focused on my sense of touch, pushing past my initial awareness of the smouldering scorch of my soul turning my own body to ash.
Focus. What do you feel? Physically, not emotionally. Emotions hinder you, they weigh you down.
The stinging of my skin against the icy, metal rails, my dry, chapped lips burning, the prickling warmth that still lingered on my wrists from Steve's skin.
Sighing, I opened my eyes, blocking all thoughts of him from my mind. Somehow, they still sifted through as I stared at the sky that was quickly darkening, the waning light filtering through the heavy clouds in faint hues of tangerine and violet.
I knew that I should have been thinking about ways to stop the League and Vermont. Time was running out until the "Instructor's" plans were enacted, until I dropped dead and potentially killed those around me.
What does it matter, though? a tiny voice whispered from the dark depths of my mind, from the corner of pain I kept under lock and key. Against my will I listened to it, and it grew stronger. When you die, Vermont dies. Easy as that. The League will weaken; S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers will take care of the rest. You trust them enough to at least know that.
The hiss continued, growing in strength, feeding on my vulnerability of not being able to act.
That son of a bitch, loyal lapdog Silas will be lost without his master. You don't have to worry about him. He has nowhere to turn.
But he betrayed my trust, I protested. He violated me, he watched as Sophia was killed. I have to see him and Corvus and the League to the end. For her.
So you'll be a coward and hang onto the last thread of life until you murder them and then murder countless innocent others when your soul overtakes your body? Sophia wouldn't want people to die simply because you didn't have the self-control, the courage to do what you know has to be done. Stop fooling yourself. Your last act will be an act of cowardice if you wait until your soul devours you.
My eyes opened slowly, taking in the now dark surroundings of night, lit by the haze of city lights. I could feel my shoulder blades expand as my wings tumbled from my back, ebony feathers gleaming.
You know what you have to do, Quinn. You'll feel the wind rushing through your feathers and then nothing. Better than suffering, watching helplessly as you burn from the inside out. Vermont will die either way, you will still murder him and enact your vengeance with your death.
Lithely, I climbed to balance on top of the railing, turning so my back was to the edge of the building. My eyes fluttered shut.
Numbness had consumed me, turning my body to ice. Not from the freezing air, though. From the grief that had been suppressed in the furthest corners of my consciousness and was now leaking out in a flood that consumed my anguished mind.
I could feel the soles of my shoes rocking lightly against the circular bar of the railing, the only thing separating me from the open sky.
Cold air rushed into my lungs and released slowly from my cracked, parted lips. My wings expanded, my arms spreading from their relaxed positions at my sides until they were even with my shoulders.
One shift of your weight is all it will take. Like blowing a feather out of your palm with the slightest breath.
I tipped backwards just as I heard the rooftop door creak open, footsteps coming to an abrupt halt.
Steve's panicked voice yelling my name was drowned by the howling wind as I fell, the bitterly cold air welcoming me in a glacial embrace.