Also thank you for all the reviews! I try to reply to the ones that I can, or ones with questions I can answer. I really appreciate all of you sticking out with this for so long xD Especially after this two month long hiatus.
I would also like to thank and credit Kaeliee on DeviantArt (Glass in the Mirror on ) for the new cover of this fic! It's such a wonderful piece and I still can't get over how awesome it is.
Chapter Fifty-Five
✭
For three seconds, I could only watch, stunned. Brandt, pupils burning, skin molten, strutting out of the bar of screaming people. Tony Stark, hands cuffed behind his back, running like a scared wombat straight into Savin.
Savin, pulling out a pistol. Taking aim was what finally got me lunging into action. "Hey!"
Luckily, Harley was on the ball. Before I even reached Savin, the boy had fired his potato gun — nailing Savin right in the ear.
Savin's recoiled, his shot going wide. Tony Stark dove for cover behind a gray sedan. Before Savin could recover and turn for Harley, I plowed my shoulder into him like a linebacker, slamming him back into the car he just stepped out of. The door crunched beneath him on impact.
Still on my feet, I made a sharp heel-turn and went for Tony. Over my shoulder, I called, "Peter, take care of him!"
"Got it!" Peter called, followed by a sharp Thwip! Savin, groaning, was just pulling himself out of the car when he took a face full of web, smacking him back into the car.
"Mr. Stark!" I called, sliding in behind the trunk of the sedan Tony Stark was currently crouched behind. Brandt was still walking up to us.
Stark looked up at me, alarmed, shoulders shaking as he struggled with the handcuffs still hindering his movements. "Beanstalk? What the hell —"
"Hey, that's the guy from the boat!" Peter called from somewhere behind us. More thwips, crunching, and grunts as Savin was besieged by the amazing jumping spider.
Tony's eyes flicked from him to me with an increasingly distressed expression. "I thought I told you kids to stay put!"
I didn't bother to explain myself. Instead, I grabbed Stark's shoulder, turned him away. Grabbing the handcuff chain, I ripped it all off with a quick jerk of my arm. Metal tore apart easily in my hand, clattering to the tarmac. "You're welcome!"
Tony Stark spun back around, staring at his free hands in front of him, then back up at me, one eyebrow quirking up. "...Huh."
He might've said something more, but didn't get the chance — when I grabbed his shoulder again, forced his head down right before the sedan's rear light exploded.
Tony yelped; The gunshot rang in the air and I shoved him back. Tony did a reverse somersault onto the sidewalk. At the same time, I launched to my feet, spinning around and intercepting Brandt. Hands went up, wrapping around the hot pistol, her hot wrist, and twisted as hard as I could.
Brandt let out a grunt as I plowed my shoulder into her at the same time, flipping her over my back as I kept a hold on her gun. Her skin, red and charred, blackened, before cracking off completely. With one last yank, I ripped off her hand.
The sight startled me so much I actually yelped and dropped the gun. It hit the ground and went off, right before I kicked it away. Then I wanted to kick myself. Stupid! I could've used that!
I didn't have time to dwell on regrets. I whirled around just in time to take a reformed fist to the face.
Brandt sneered as I went down hard, my head cracking against the tarmac. Squinting through the pain, I managed to see Tony Stark disappear through a dark cafe while her back was turned. Good. At least he was out of danger.
I, however, was still screwed.
Brandt lifted her heel and slammed it down towards my face. I rolled out of the way as she said, "God! Damn! You! Always getting in my way!"
"Hey!" Harley's voice echoed somewhere behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see him pointing at Brandt, gaping at me. "She has the same haircut as you!"
"Harley, get down!" Peter swooped in and tackled Harley before Savin could grab the kid, swinging away again down a side street.
Back to Brandt — pushing myself back to my feet, I avoided another kick to the ribcage. My head was still ringing from the fall. I stumbled back, trying to recollect myself in time. I could barely remember what she said to me.
Pushing hair out of my face, I huffed, "Sorry, can't help it. Just another teenager with attitude."
It was a stupid line I heard from somewhere, couldn't remember it at the moment, but I hoped it was enough to distract Brandt for a moment longer. I wasn't good at quipping. If I wanted quipping, I would've brought Peter —
"A fucking nuisance is what you are!" Brandt snarled, kicking away the gray sedan as she came after me, her movements slow but furious. Her pupils were so red they were almost white. Her decapitated hand had already completely reformed. She flexed it, as if just shaking off a muscle ache. "All that training, all that time in the Crucible! They told me you would be the best of us! They told me all the effort will be worth it! A loyal and obedient soldier that would never turn! You know what I got instead? A disappointment!"
With that, Brandt bent down, slipped her hand under the sedan's bumper, and slung the car at me.
"Shit!" I ducked and rolled, hands over my head, as the car when careening across the street behind me. The sound of metal screeching and civilians screeching followed.
Back to my feet, I narrowly avoided the follow-up volley of a molten street trashcan — the corner dinged me across the shoulder and I nearly tripped on the curb. Son of a bitch!
"Well, I'd apologize, but that'd just be lying," I called back, scanning the area for anything I could use. People were still fleeing the area. Brandt dragged her hand along the line of parked cars, setting off their alarms in a rising cacophony. I'd hoped I'd given Tony enough time to return with back-up, but I had the sinking feeling I was on my own here. "And honesty is part of the soldier's code of honor, right? Or did we skip that class in the Crucible?"
I had been backing up the entire time, further down the road, away from both Tony and Savin. They had completely disappeared from sight, along with Harley and Peter. I hoped they were safe. Right now, it was just me and Brandt, duking it out in the middle of Main Street, Rose Hill, Tennessee.
Not my idea of a final showdown, but what can ya do.
Brandt just laughed. "Stall all you want, Amelia, but you can't delay the inevitable. Every time we meet, you keep running away, but there's gonna be a day where you can't run anymore. The Crucible will catch up. They will always find you. And when you run out of places to hide, you're going to wish you gave yourself up all those weeks ago in Sokovia."
My back hit the brick wall of the storefront behind me. Brandt was closing in.
Our eyes locked. I clenched my jaw. "Who said anything about hiding?"
And I slammed my foot into the fire hydrant next to me.
A geyser of freezing water exploded from the busted cap — striking Brandt full on in the face. She let out a shriek, knocked off her feet from the blast.
Now with Brandt on the ground, I lunged for her. It got me soaked in the process, but I wasn't cold, and it was worth the advantage.
Breathing hard, blood pounding. Hands around her throat, skin chilled and hardened by the water. Her kicking and struggling underneath me.
Just like the nightmare. Except nothing at all was the same.
My jacket hung heavy from my frame, pulling at my hair and shoulders. Shows soaked instantly, leaving me with the uncomfortable sensation of clingy wet socks. My knees grating against the pavement as I pinned Brandt down. A pair of steaming hands wrapped around my wrists, trying to yank me off. But Brandt couldn't hurt me, and I wasn't scared of her. I wasn't going to run. I wasn't going to hide. I came here for a reason. And this was where it was going to end.
One way or another.
The thought, as soon as it hit me, sent a chill through my veins so frigid not even the icy water could compete.
Brandt kicked and choked, gasping for air, trying to speak but unable to. She slapped my arm, begging for me to yield.
God. I could kill her.
I wanted to kill her.
And who would stop me?
The answer came to me just as a truck came careening down the street.
I saw the headlights at the last second. I tried to get up in time.
The grill clipped me just as I tried to jump out of the way. But at forty miles an hour, it's never just getting clipped. The impact sent me flying down the street.
My fall was only softened by landing not the flipped sedan Brandt had thrown earlier. Its metal undercarriage bent as I bounced off and crumpled to the tarmac.
I looked up just in time to see the truck, which had hit the brakes upon striking me, get blasted forward onto its front wheels. It had run over Brandt and paid the price.
All I saw was the driver's terrified face right before the truck skidded on its front wheels into the busted sedan. With a cry I scrambled out of the way. Something warm was seeping down my face. My shoulder felt pretty fucked up from my near-death experience with Ford Motors.
The truck tipped and landed on its side, crashing into the sedan before finally coming to a stop. It hit an electric pole and knocked it over, the lines coming down with an ominous crackle. A transformer exploded.
I stared at the wreckage, astounded. Fuck. The road was completely blocked now.
The driver, still alive, struggled to pull himself out the broken window of his vehicle. On the other side, Brandt was getting up — tire treads across her face and chest. It would've been funny if it weren't for the look of murder on her face.
"Now that," she sneered, wiping at her lip as her crushed head reconstructed itself. "Was not Amelia Fletcher. Amelia Fletcher isn't a killer. You think I don't recognize that look? That of someone who could end a life without a second thought, without an inch of regret. I see it every time I look in the mirror. At least I don't lie and hide it behind a poker face."
I swallowed, hesitating for a second before double-backing along the street, away from the wreckage and the still-escaping driver, hoping to draw Brandt away from him. She was too close now. My clothes were too heavy, wet, rubbing in all the wrong ways.
"That's why you can't escape the Crucible, Amelia," Brandt continued, clearly enjoying this triumph. "Because it's been inside you all this time. A parasite in your brain, eating away at you, all that's left of you, until all your thoughts, dreams, and instincts belong to it. And it's already won."
My throat was thick; I couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, in a moment of building frustration, I finally ripped off my jacket — the feeling of my now-unhindered arms gave me a brief moment of respite, enough to clear my head.
I matched Brandt's sneer with one of my own. "Do you ever shut up?"
She snarled and lunged at me.
This time I was ready.
One thing I was starting to learn about Brandt was that she always telegraphed her punches — and this one was no different.
My first move was to pull out my pocket knife, which was exactly what I did — killer instinct or not, I wasn't going to put moral superiority over my own life. Fuck that.
Caught her punch in one fist, snapped out my knife in another. Slammed it into her side, between her two lower ribs.
Brandt grunted, ripped her hot fist out of my hand and swung the other at my head. I jerked back, avoiding it and yanking out the knife at the same time — the metal already hot and steaming from contact. I had to force myself to keep holding onto it, taking two blows to my chest and hip before slashing back.
Missed the first time, but the second slash cut across Brandt's arm as she tried to block. It sliced through her skin easily. But even as I readied for another strike, her skin pulled back together, healing almost instantly.
Brandt just gave me a molten grin. It didn't even look like it hurt.
Pow. Fist to the face, knee to the gut. I barely had the strength to remain standing. Stumbling back, my shoulder hit a parked truck behind me. I saw Brandt's incoming fist and, withholding the urge to upchuck, ducked and rolled.
I slipped past her legs as her fist went through the driver's window. Shattered glass went everywhere. I turned around just as I heard the sound of metal tearing. Brandt whipped her arm back out, slinging at me the gear stick she tore out.
It glanced off my arms when I raised them, protecting my face from a messy end.
The smell of singed cloth reached my nose. I had no idea how badly she burned me, but I could feel the places where she'd struck. Pulsing, stinging. Brandt was still rearing to go — nothing I did seemed to phase her.
When Brandt came at me again, I tried going for her knee. But apparently, she anticipated that, as when my blade embedded into her exposed skin, she just enclosed her fist over it, yanked it out, and held on.
For a split second, terror kept me frozen, until Brandt let go with a shove. Knife still in my hand, I looked down to see that she had melted the entire shaft of the blade, turning it into soft, cooling mess. No longer sharp enough to stab or cut with.
Shit.
I retaliated by stomping on her foot, then bringing my elbow down on her head. I refused to let the knife go. As far as I was concerned it was still a weapon. After all, if it had been the Winter Soldier, he wouldn't have let it go until he had completely rendered it useless.
Brandt recoiled from the blows, her exposed toes getting the worst of it, but they too healed as she stepped back.
Roundhouse kick to my head. Again, telegraphed, too flashy — I caught her heel before it met my face and twisted her foot off.
That just grew back again in the next few seconds. It didn't even knock Brandt over. It just made her angrier.
I absorbed the next three blows; left arm, right thigh, face. My muscles were starting to burn with effort. Goddamn, I was already feeling fatigued, and help still seemed like it wasn't coming. I wished for a gun, for something, just blow Brandt's head off, but now I wasn't sure if even that could finish her off.
Brandt charged at me, her arms out. Hot, melted knife still in my left fist, I flipped it, reverse grip, and slammed it into the back of Brandt's shoulder as she tackled me.
We went down hard. She let out a cry. My bare arms and shoulders scraped against the cold tarmac as Brandt landed on top of me.
And didn't move.
Gasping, I managed to peer up. My hips and back stung with road rash, shirt riding up, but that was nothing compared to the sight of my knife sticking out of Brandt's spine at the base of her neck.
I gasped, suddenly able to hear the blood pounding in my ears, even though it had been there this whole time. In a surge of panic and relief, I pushed Brandt off of me, scrambling away and to my feet. From there, I was better able to see what I had done.
"You...you bitch." Brandt spat, panting hard and spluttering, in either pain or shock. Hard to tell which. She just lied there on the ground where I shoved, arms splayed out, limbs unmoving. "You f-fucking paralyzed me."
I didn't really feel all that bad about it. I was just surprised at how fast it was over. Sometimes the best finishing moves were the quickest ones.
I just leaned forward, hands on my knees, taking a second to catch my breath. I hung my head, almost laughing. Was it...was it over yet?
CRREEEEEEAAAAAAAKK.
The long groan of fatigued metal breaking rattled through the air, so deep it shook the ground. Brandt and I froze, staring at each other wide-eyed before spinning around to see —
The water tower, less than a block away, toppling.
Its long, spindly legs pulling and pending, its massive top-heavy basin tipping forward and down — towards Main Street. Towards us.
The water tower landed with a tremendous crash. I barely had time to drop the ruined knife and start running before the tidal wave came pouring over the rooftops.
I ran for the opposite end of the street. Maybe if I could make it up that building, I'd be safe —
But I'd never make it.
I felt the tickling of mist on my heels right before the wave slammed into my back. The water swallowed me before I even got the chance to scream. Then I got slammed into the very brick wall I'd been intending to climb.
For three seconds, I couldn't breathe. Water surrounded me, kept rushing, forcing me against the wall. The left side of my face burned. Not from Brandt, but from the brick cutting into my skin. I was going to be so pissed if I ended up looking like the Golem from Dragon Quest after this.
Then, as quick as it began, it was over. The basin quickly emptied and soon the water was down to my shoulders, then my knees, before trickling away at my feet, draining further into town.
I slumped against the wall, choking and gasping for breath, clutching at my chest. I couldn't believe I almost drowned on dry land.
If I was wet before, I was completely soaked now. Dripping head to foot, my breath clouded in front of me, huddled on the ground in my bloody and torn shirt, I was actually starting to shiver. The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, and now my body grew heavy. I slumped to the sidewalk, breathing hard. God, I could use a nap. And a warm bath. And some hot chocolate.
The air was quiet, aside from the slight crackle of electricity, the rushing of distant water, cheery Christmas jingle playing from tinny speakers somewhere down the street.
I rested my head against the wall, closing my eyes, just taking deep breaths. Maybe I could just fall asleep right here, wait for the authorities to arrive…
The sound of scraping had my eyes flying open.
I whipped my head around to see Brandt, spasming to her feet. Movements jerky, arms and fingers twitching, her head at the wrong angle. The knife still buried in her neck. Her eyes, burning pupils, pinned on me.
"...did you think…" Brandt snarled, lips pulled back in a savage smirk, no humor. She straightened up, back arched, limbs askew, a fiery marionette on twisted strings. "...that was going to stop me…?"
My heart skipped a beat and I jolted backwards, only to hit the wall behind me. My fingers were completely numb, frozen. I could only hold my hands out weakly in front of me. I tried to tell my legs to move, to get beneath me, to get up, but I was so tired, everything hurt, no more adrenaline, just wanted to lie down now…
Brandt hobbled forward on uneven legs, the water steaming off her as Extremis coursed through her body again, healing all the damaged nerves. But how much damage was too much? Had the knife cut too deep? Was it too late to remove it?
Her footsteps splashed. The street was still partially flooded. Between us was a large puddle, a river really, where the water remained thanks to a natural dip in the road. I remained dry (more or less) on the sidewalk, curled up and with nowhere to run.
"What, t-too tired to get up?" Brandt asked, clearly already guessing what was up. I was still pushing myself against the wall, trying to help myself to a stand. I had to fight her. I couldn't just die on my knees. "Why don't you just make it easy on yourself, Amelia? You can't last against me. You'll never be strong enough."
A light flashed in the corner of my vision. I didn't look at it, though. Just carried myself up against the wall — still putting too much weight on it, unable to stand on my own two feet.
Hands pressed against the brick. Hair dripping in front of my face. I didn't break eye contact with Brandt.
"Good thing I don't have to be."
Brandt gave me a funny look, hesitating.
But not before she stepped in the puddle.
And that's when she saw it, too.
The car crash. The fallen electric pole.
The broken lines floating in the water.
The water was ankle-deep. Sparks flashed against her skin.
Brandt's eyes flicked to mine, her mouth open to scream. Only no sound came out. I had only a second to acknowledge this before diving for cover.
Her body began to spasm again, only uncontrollable, fast, skin growing white hot. Her face turned completely black as the matter underneath glowed like starbursts through the cracks.
A gun, overheating.
"N-no —!"
Brandt's scream cut off with a strange, inhuman shriek.
Then her entire body exploded.
The blast hit the sedan I hid behind with the force of what felt like a thousand suns. I gasped as the tires popped and glass exploded, car shifting against me. I covered my head and hunkered lower to the ground, praying I had put enough distance between us.
Whoosh.
The heat passed, leaving my skin feeling tingly and warm, and not in a good way. The part of my body not against the car was steaming dry, my hair actually a little static-y. The other half, still wet. The dry scent of ozone hung heavy in the air, coating my mouth in an almost numbing sensation, but stinging my eyes and nose. I tried to wet my tongue but found my mouth dry as paper, and unable to swallow.
It took me three long seconds to look past the car bumper, and see what remained of Brandt.
The puddle was gone. So was the front half of my car. All that remained was rubble, a blackened crater in the earth.
And one shiny button from Brandt's fancy blazer.
I slumped to the ground, head in my arms. Breath shuddering, tears came to my eyes unbidden. Finally, it was over.
"Mia?" A voice called my name in the distance, so far away and lonely. Then, sharp, and close, running footsteps. "Mia!"
Hands landed on my shoulders before I could even lift my head. My foggy brain had just identified the voice when the hands lifted me up and I saw Peter, his expression gaunt with horror, panic. "Oh, my god, I thought you were dead!"
"Mmm, no," I mumbled, smacking my lips a little because my mouth was still dry. Maybe that blast messed with my head more than I initially thought. I gazed up at Peter through unfocused eyes. "I... I'm okay. Are you — is Harley —?"
"Harley and Mr. Stark are fine!" Peter informed me in words almost too fast for me to comprehend. Clearly, he was still in battle-mode, ready to fight. His face was covered in ash and I noticed his jacket pock-marked with new singed holes. Peter brushed at the errant hair in his eyes, adding, "I tried to keep the water tower from falling but I wasn't fast enough. I knew you were here and I just — god, I thought — I can't even think it. Are you sure you're okay? Jesus, all that blood, and you face is — what happened to that Extremis woman? Brandt? Where is she?"
I couldn't answer all those questions, still slumped on the ground. Peter supporting me was the only thing keeping me up. I just pointed one, slightly trembling finger down to the crater.
Peter stared at it for a long moment. Then to me. Then to the crater again. What remained of the water and the electricity pole. He seemed to piece it together on his own. "The electricity combined with the water must've overcharged her...how did you know that would work?"
I just gave him a dull look. My hand fell limp to the ground. "I didn't."
It took Peter a moment to absorb that and, perhaps not knowing what to do with that encouraging notion, simply shook his head and said to me, "Come on, let's get you up, before someone comes around and sees you."
"What? I do not need your help, Peter —" I complained, offended, as Peter began to lift me to my feet. My whining ended there, however, as Peter was stronger than he looked, and I lacked almost all strength to stand on my own. I ended up slumping against him, one arm over his shoulder.
I just hung my head, defeated, as he led me down the street. "At least tell me you killed Savin."
"Oh, yeah, Mr. Stark took care of him," Peter nodded emphatically, grinning a little. "One arc reactor blast to the face, bam! He was gone. You shoulda seen it, Goose, it was an awesome fight! Savin couldn't even touch me, and Harley came in clutch with his little Cricket grenade thing—"
"Yeah, real shame I missed it," I mumbled, basically just letting Peter drag me at this point. I looked over, saw my star tattoo on my exposed skin and jumped a little, saying, "Oh, shit, my jacket —"
"What?" Peter paused, turned around with me, scanning the streets for wherever I dropped it. Then he raised his free arm and with a quick Thwip! Snatched up my jacket from across the street with his web-shooter. Peter handed it to me with a grin. "Here, doesn't look too ruined. Although maybe you should let it dry first…"
I just laughed a little, taking the jacket and letting my arm fall again, exhausted. "Let's just get back to the garage. Tony Stark still doesn't know anything about Extremis or Killian."
"He probably has some idea now," Peter snorted. Already sirens were arriving. County police? How long did it take to get to a crime scene in the middle of a small town? The two of us ducked down a side street, back to Harley's house. Peter threw an anxious glance over his shoulder, then back at me. "You think we made the right decision in coming here?"
I wasn't sure how to answer that for a moment. All the trouble we caused, just getting here, just trying to tell Tony Stark what he needed to know. The lying, the sneaking, the fighting.
All that damage. The death.
Putting our own lives at risk.
I sighed. "I think it'd be a lot worse if we hadn't."
