-Chapter 6-

"So what's the agenda?" I said. This floor—which I apparently wasn't allowed on without Natasha's supervision—was again filled with technology I'd never seen before, and would never have if I didn't stumble into this entire mess.

"Just one thing." Natasha punched in a series of commands on a white remote control, which I couldn't understand from where I was standing beside her. A soft hiss, and a series of small, winding platforms pushed themselves out of the wall, jutting out into the air and connected by stairs of differing heights. I wanted to be surprised, I really did. But at this point, after all those tests and the passage … meh.

She gestured at me to follow her up the stairs.

"Do you know what these are for?"

"Training?" I said, already growing a little breathless from the climb halfway through. I was already un-athletic as a normal teen; two months of coma with no moving had done me in.

Natasha had no such problem. She may as well be walking up on air, from what I could tell at her effortless strides. "Yes, but that's the point of this entire floor. The reason why we have these platforms here specifically is to simulate certain city terrains, where there can be many stairs and buildings."

"Makes sense you guys built this here, then," I said. "Since it seems like you mostly operate in urban areas. At least publicly."

"That is correct," Natasha said.

"Am I even allowed to know this?" I snorted. With all the things they were keeping from me with the tests already, I'm surprised that Rogers even—

She paused and turned to look in my direction without expression. "Since you are already living in the Tower, you will inevitably know more than the ordinary civilian. You know that, Ava, without having to ask." I looked down, pressing my lips together, a weird spike of embarrassment running through me.

Finally, we reached the highest platform, near the ceiling. I tensed when I peered over the abrupt edge, lined with no fences or chains. This floor was perhaps the combined height of three or four stories. A small slip of attention, one trip, and I could break my neck.

I turned to Natasha, the prickles of fear mixing with the rush of excitement into a heady cocktail. "Now?"

Her eyes were cool. "Now, you fight."

"Wait, what?" I blinked. "But I don't know anything—"

"I want to gauge your ability."

"That's fair, but I don't think I'd last against you long enough for you to learn much."

"You won't be fighting me." Natasha pointed to the opposite wall. "You'll be fighting that."

My gaze followed the direction she pointed toward until it met a—

I couldn't comprehend what it was first, because all I saw was a strange man, figure oddly still and sharp and lifeless despite motion, floating through the air towards me. Then it got closer, and the raised metallic panes and wiring became clearer.

"This is a training droid," Natasha said as it landed heavily onto the edge of the platform.

"You guys … really have everything." I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, as I realized the thing was over a head taller than me, and much broader.

She shrugged. "Tony designed them for one of his projects—as defense droids, I believe. These are just prototypes, though. He'd abandoned them here for us to practice against when he started working on newer models."

"Will it s-shoot at me?" I couldn't keep the stutter from the word.

"No. You will fight hand-to-hand. Your goal will be to push the droid off one of this platform. Until you succeed, the droid will try to shove you off. You must stay on this platform, or one of the others."

I stared at her, incredulous. "I thought we would start with something basic. Like, I don't know, warm-ups. Before we moved on to fighting evil tin mans."

"I won't force you," Natasha said, and I shivered slightly. Her expression and voice were calm, but there was a sharp, unrelenting edge in her eyes that scared me. She would stop teaching me if I refused.

This wasn't the person who helped me settle into my room, or bought me pizza and soda for dinner, or found my nylon bag for me. At the moment, she was the woman who broke Moore's nose and flung the blade into the Hydra agent's hand with barely a blink of an eye.

I considered her carefully in a way that I would not have dared if I could be seen. Fighting the droid would be beyond stupid. I might as well just volunteer to jump off myself. But even with the way she was right now, I didn't believe Natasha would purposely try to get me killed.

"Fine," I said, straightening my back. "I'll do it."

She nodded. "I will wait from below. You'll know when the fight has begun."

And I did, the moment its eyes lit up in a strange orange-red glow. My muscles instantly locked the moment its head tilted stiffly, assessing me, tracing the best strategy to throw me off and defeat me.

I tried to push through the sudden fog in my head, but the droid already made the first move. I instinctively flinched back, steps clumsy—and for one horrible second, the back of my foot scuffed against the edge, brushing empty space. Heart stuttering, I leaned against the wall and pressed my palm against the surface, trying to stay upright. It loomed closer, the slow, smooth movements of its joints strangely hypnotizing.

I could almost feel the rush of air as I fell.

But I couldn't do nothing. I just let it happen. That would be lame.

With a strangled cry, I hurled myself towards the droid. A brief flare of triumph, exhilarating in its uncertainty, flickered as the droid reeled back, clearly not expecting the move. It did not last long. Because the moment my already sweaty fingers brushed against the metal plates of its arm, fumbling to get a grip, it had already recovered.

The droid's hands, mechanical and cold even though my long-sleeved shirt, clamped around my upper arms. It swiveled to the side and marched forward, pushing me ahead.

I lowered my weight and dug my feet into the surface, pushing with all my strength against the droid, and tried to wrench my arm from its grip with another yell. Its hands were too strong, but I knocked it off course. We staggered to the ground—and I landed on top.

Panting, I tried to half-push, half drag the droid closer to the edge, but it wouldn't budge. Throwing a glance to my left, I did a messy calculation in my head. I was still panicking on whether or not I should take the action when the droid bucked, nearly throwing me off.

No more time. I wrapped myself around its body and closed my eyes—and rolled left.

Its weight dug into my chest and I choked on my breath. A second later, I was lying on my side, the droid still facing me, its back in line against the edge.

"You fucking bastard." I grinned for a moment, the movement less a smile and more just baring my teeth, and shoved against it with my legs, hard.

It didn't budge. It didn't even sway.

I stared into its face, the light of its eyes suddenly seeming harsher against my own. "Shit."

Its hands were still clasped around my arms, digging into my skin. I struggled against it, but it was too strong.

The droid turned, still dragging me by my arms. It was going to hurl me over.

No no no no no no. I couldn't tell if I was actually saying the words or if they were just streaking across my mind. I kicked at it, flailed, but I couldn't find purchase anywhere.

A familiar blank roar filled my ears, and the world was suddenly a blur that was too strong, too bright, I only wanted to escape from, if only I could—

I fell.

Wind rushed past my ears shrilly, gravity dragged me down, harder and harder. Squeezing my eyes shut again, I braced for the worst.

It never came. Something caught me, and I felt momentum drive my back into the object.

I stayed curled up, my face still buried in my hands, for some time. I could bring myself to open my eyes to see thick, crisscrossed ropes.

A net from the ceiling, that somehow shot out while I fell and caught me. I looked down and saw less than a foot of distance to the ground. Less than a foot before I—before I could—

"Well done." Natasha's voice, clear and succinct, broke through my daze.

"I—I—" I tried to climb out, and nearly tripped down. "I lost."

"Yes," she said. "But most people would on their first try." She handed me a cup of water, and I took it, clutching it in my hand but not feeling well enough for a sip.

"And I panicked," I said, huffing. Now that I was thinking more clearly, something hot and ashamed swelled inside. I thought of my resolve to become better, stronger, and the bitterness curdled even more. "I can't believe myself."

Natasha shook her head. "There were reasons I made you do this today, and none of them involve you having the situation under control."

"Then why …?"

"To show you a taste of what combat really is," she said. "Many young people go into it thinking about victory and glory, and whatever else it is they want. They're wrong. It's not pretty or exciting, or even heroic. It's harsh, devastatingly so."

"And that shows what fighting truly is—survival. And to survive, you must have a clear mind. Physical techniques could be taught, but the ability to maintain control of oneself is much harder to learn. Although you reacted well at times, you lost control of yourself towards the end. And so you lost."

When she spoke again, I had a sense that she was reciting something. "Those who control themselves control the fight. Those who control the fight wins."

A/N: Hi guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to post more frequently with shorter chapters from now on. Thank you for reading, and please leave a comment if you liked this story :))))