"Come on, I know you can do better than that,"Natasha scolded as she managed to wrap her legs around my waist and take me down. I blinked, twisting my torso to look up at her.
"So this is what it's like to be on the other side of that move," I mused out loud, throwing her off. Then I had to take a hasty leap backwards to avoid a rubber tipped arrow that landed and bounced off of the ground where I had just been.
Deciding that trying to take it easy on Natasha was stupid, I used every trick in my non-mutated-abilities arsenal. Since it was only her and Clint, there was no reason for us to dumb down training to hide my identity. With that in mind, our fighting sped up.
She was just as good as Matt, which meant I got my ass soundly handed to me between her and Clint. Still, they didn't slow down and I loved it. I managed to sweep Natasha's ankles out from under her, but she turned that against me by slamming one of those feet up at my face, slamming her palms on the ground to break her fall before smoothly rolling back up and coming at me again. I had barely dodged her insanely fast kick, just in time to catch her next hit and throw her. She took the flight gracefully, flipping and landing on her feet before we were at it again.
One of Clint's rubber arrows barely whizzed past my nose as I curved under it, taking a page out of Natasha's book and using the momentary disruption of my balance to my advantage as I lifted one leg off the ground with my movement, and successfully landed my first solid kick to the redhead's side. She went tumbling, but got up immediately with a nod.
"Good—"
"What is going on?" A familiar voice asked, equal parts confused, annoyed, and angry. I flinched, having taken out my hearing aids to avoid them getting broken in the spar. Clint jumped down from his spot up high to join me and Nat as we turned to face Bucky.
My hero was standing with both arms crossed, and mouth in a taut frown. Luckily, he was the only one there so there was still the chance of containing the secret. Still, Bucky would have to be let in on it after the spar he had just witnessed, or else he might tell on Natasha and Clint for going too hard on someone he thought was a rookie— thus exposing my identity to everyone.
"I need a beer," Clint announced, setting down the practice arrows and quiver he had been using. "You know how, on Thursday, Steve and Tony made the announcement about Hebi being Peter's unofficial emergency backup since she found out about Spider-Man?"
Bucky nodded. It was Sunday, three days since that discussion, meaning it was the first required training session needed before I could start actually being backup.
"Good, then let's go up to my floor," Natasha interjected. "We'll all have something to drink, and Stark doesn't watch my cameras," Tony was too smart to be that suicidal. "And we can clue you in to your number one fan's own secrets."
Bucky looked over at me, but I turned my head away. This was a nightmare.
Five minutes later, and we were all sat around Natasha's kitchen counter. Clint had a beer, Natasha had the Danger and Spice tea (steadfastly ignoring my amused look as she brewed it for herself), and Bucky had a cup of the Meditation blend tea. I opted for just a cup of water, afraid I'd spill anything else and make a stain.
"Okay, explain," Bucky said after his first sip of tea. He was visually calmer, but I knew that didn't mean much. His form was still tense, and his gaze slid over to me every few seconds. "That spar was way too advanced for a rookie," called it, "And she responded too well to actually be a rookie."
Go away, pride. Don't take that as a compliment, he's angry at you damn it, I thought to myself at the swelling of warmth in my chest. It disappeared swiftly at the realization that I had to explain a lot of my past to him. Out loud.
Bucky Barnes.
Yeah, happiness successfully demolished.
I sighed, running a hand down my face as I thought about how to start. Luckily, Nat was one step ahead as always. She stood up, walking into her room and coming out a moment later with a thick file. She handed it to Bucky.
"The summary is the first three pages, everything else is more in depth," she explained. The supersoldier raised an eyebrow, but flipped the file open.
"Dryad?" He asked. "What does this have to do with…" he had obviously read the first few lines, likely explaining that Dryad kidnapped orphans with the goal of training child assassins. His wide eyes flew up to mine before his gaze hardened and he looked back down to read the file.
I forced myself to remain still, my face carefully blank even as I could feel the unsteady beat of my heart in my chest.
No weakness. No emotion. No matter what his reaction was, I wouldn't be affected. I couldn't be affected.
Slowly, the familiar feeling of detachment slid over my mind like a blanket, numbing me slightly to everything physical and emotional. I wasn't as conscious of the fact that the room was kept at a cooler temperature than the rest of the building, or that the leather sofa was stiff and squeaky under me to give away the fact that it was hardly used.
I let my gaze drift away from Bucky as he read, focusing on the smoothness of the walls. The impersonal decoration. The suspicious redhead watching my face closely.
"Now flip to page twenty," Natasha spoke. I didn't look at my h— at the former assassin sitting across from me, reading.
It seemed simultaneously like an instant and an eternity before he finished, and set the file down. "Hebi," he said softly, and I turned to look at him. Something made him frown deeply, and he leaned forward over his knees without ever disconnecting his eyes from mine. "Hebi," he repeated just as softly as before, but more firmly. "You can talk to me."
I blinked, examining his expression. His frown lifted into the world's tiniest grin.
"Come on, we're all former assassins here, we all have really shitty pasts. Off with the mask."
My shoulders relaxed without my approval, and I took a slow breath. The light in the room seemed to get more intense, which I knew was just a sign that my disconnection was wearing off and things were coming back into focus.
"I'm sorry," I blurted, suddenly having no filter. "Natasha and Clint knew, and I figured that was good enough for now, and I don't want anyone to think badly about me. I'm really trying to get better, I really am. But it's hard, and sometimes I regress, and Daredevil is always a little disappointed when I almost kill someone so I really do try hard not to. I remind myself that you went through a hundred times worse, and that if you did it then I should be able to get through my shit just fine and—"
"I was already an adult and a war veteran when I was kidnapped by Hydra," he interrupted firmly, and I snapped my jaw shut. "And I'm not fine. None of us are, really," he admitted, running a hand through his long hair. "It's okay to not be fine. But you can't compare yourself to me. By the time I was taken, I had the willpower to resist so they had no choice but to brainwash me to get me to…" he sighed, and none of us needed him to complete that sentence so he didn't. "But they got you when you were already emotionally vulnerable, and before you were even old enough to have the kind of backbone needed to refuse to do what they told you. That's not your fault."
I grit my jaw, looking down.
"Yeah, you're like a knockoff version of Nat," Clint interrupted, grinning although his humor was subdued and his eyes were solemn. "That's why she's such a cold bitch to you, she—"
"Stop talking, Barton," Natasha interrupted, voice steely. He stopped.
"Never call me a knockoff again, or I will knock off something very precious to you from your body," I threatened blandly, my face in a deadpan. Clint visibly (probably dramatically) shivered.
Bucky snorted, grinning. He leaned back, tapping the folder on the counter in front of him with one finger.
"This file says you are Enhanced, but it's suspiciously missing a power profile. Wanna tell me more about that, or do you wanna keep that secret?" He asked. I appreciated the sentiment, but he both knew that "secret" wasn't really an option with my powers, not if I wanted to train them properly with these guys.
"Oh yeah, the power profile page," Clint said happily, snapping his fingers and ignoring Natasha's glare. "That's the one you burnt, right Nat?"
The redhead only glowered and sipped her tea, despite me suddenly blinking at her wordlessly.
She burnt it?
I had so many questions. None of which I actually planned to ask. Instead, I forced myself to look back at Bucky.
"Uh, yeah. Enhanced strength, more focused on muscle contraction than for lifting or hitting. I have a habit of crushing gun barrels with my bare hand," I explained, moving at an even pace as I spoke. "My linear bones—tibia, fibula, etcetera, have been replaced by vertebrae because of the experiments," I lifted one arm to demonstrate, curving it into an S before straightening it back out. "My sense of smell is extremely heightened, to the point of being able to track somebody across the city if necessary. I usually need an item from them if I'm not familiar with the person though, which is why I didn't link Peter to Spider-man right away despite meeting him a month before school started. I wasn't familiar enough with his scent back then," I continued. "My hearing is shit, but I have internal ears that can pick up only low frequencies, a few lower than what normal humans can hear," I tapped the back of my throat where my internal ears were. "My eyesight isn't twenty-twenty, but it's passable most of the time. I do have heat pits under the outermost layer of skin on my lips and under my nose though, so even if I'm blind or in pitch darkness, I can navigate by heat vision," I took a sip of water, and opened my mouth again, Bucky chuckled.
"You're still going?" He asked, eyebrow raised. I grinned back at him.
"Almost done, promise," I said with a raise of my right hand. "My skin is sensitive to vibrations. I can detect a person's heartbeat from the opposite outside wall or floor of a building if I focused. The rest of my abilities are more inactive. I can control my metabolism. I can only speed it up about five percent faster than a normal human, but I can slow it down to operating at only thirty percent of a human's normal metabolic rate. Don't tell my dad, but I've actually went two weeks without food before and been just fine," I admitted. I twisted my mouth, thinking I was missing something. "Oh yeah, I'm partially cold blooded," I sighed, looking away in annoyance. "It's more of a nuisance than anything else. I think my body temperature is usually at a solid ninety degrees though, which is about eight degrees lower than a normal human's, so… yeah that might give a doctor a heart attack if they don't know," I said slowly. "Other than that, I have translucent scales over my eyes that go into shed and render me blind for one week every month. Hence the sunglasses and the stalling from coming over."
Bucky's eyebrows both rose at that last one, along with Clint's. Okay, so that hadn't been in the file that Clint had read before Natasha burned my power page. Good to know. Dryad had probably had the power page to give to customers in order to be more likely to "sell" me as an assassin, and therefore left out my weaknesses.
"When was your last shed?" Natasha asked, tapping her fingers on the counter. I blinked, remembering that one of Boa's fights had actually made the front page the previous week, and looked away with an overly casual expression on my face.
"Last week," I mumbled, sipping at my water. The redhead sighed, and Clint choked a little.
"Wait, what's wrong?" Bucky asked Natasha, making all three of us suddenly realize something.
Boa wouldn't have been in those outdated Dryad files.
I coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. "Uh. You know that Vigilante working with Daredevil?"
Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. "That Boa kid? What abo—" his face suddenly went blank. "You're kidding."
I smiled sheepishly at him, making jazz hands in the air. "Surprise!"
The older man wasted no time smacking his metal hand on his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, and groaning miserably. "We do have to deal with another trouble making vigilante kid," he despaired. Clint immediately burst into laughter at that, Nat smirking into her tea, as I was completely lost. And then I remembered—Spider-Man.
"I guarantee you I am not as bad as Pete."
—*—*—*—*—*
Having Bucky in on everything turned out to be a good thing. For one, he was a Supersoldier. Hence, he could match Hebi's Enhanced strength in ways Natasha and Clint couldn't. After making extremely sure that nobody could enter the room they were training in without them knowing ahead of time, they went back to it.
Bucky actually decided to lead her over to the corner of the gym with the weights, looking over them. "Do you know the upper limit of your lifting strength?"
She blinked, and tilted her head in thought. "I don't remember the testing results," She admitted. "But those would be outdated anyway, so no. Like I said, most of my strength is meant for crushing, not lifting."
Bucky nodded. "But you're gonna need to know your lifting strength as a vigilante. It's not all fighting, you're gonna help on rescues eventually and lifting debris can be a big part of that. Knowing your limits is essential to not overdoing it," he lectured.
"Let's start off small," Natasha suggested, patting the end of a five hundred pound weight. Hebi nodded, walking over and wrapping her hand loosely around the pole. It was meant for bench pressing, but Hebi knew it wasn't near enough for that for her. Experimentally, she lifted it with one hand before putting it back down and shaking her head.
"Way too light," she confirmed their suspicions. They moved to one of Steve's bench press weights, about a thousand pounds. Hebi went ahead got on the bench that time, just in case, and pushed up. "Nope," she said again, setting it back down. "Still light."
"Here, let's use Stark's special one," Clint suggested. "We used it to measure Pete's strength. We can manually adjust the weight electronically— due to a bunch of science mumbo jumbo I didn't understand," he waved his hand dismissively, and Bucky pulled over the right one. He popped it into place on the bench press, and Hebi took her position again. Natasha set it for one ton. Hebi lifted it, shook her head and Bucky added another five hundred pounds. It took them a good twenty minutes, not wanting to push Hebi too hard and making sure to take breaks when she started to slow down towards the end. Finally, she struggled as she pushed up the lump of metal, her arms shaking. She set the thing back down with a clank, huffing.
"Yep, there it is," she confirmed before sliding out and stretching her tired arms. "What'd we get?" Bucky whistled appreciatively, tapping the digital display.
"Five tons," he responded. Sure enough, the numbers read: 10,000 lbs. "Not too shabby," he grinned. "Steve can lift roughly one thousand three hundred pounds, maybe one and a half if he puts more effort into it. I'm right about a thousand, even," he said, his hand teeter-totting in the air to show it was an approximation. "I'm not as strong as he is, since Hydra's serum was just a remake and not quite as good as the original, but the gap isn't too huge."
She blinked, she could lift almost ten times Captain America and Bucky could? When not putting forth maximum effort or running on adrenaline, anyway. But still. Then Hebi realized the machine had been used to calculate Peter's strength, which meant he had to have been just as, if not more, crazily enhanced with physical strength.
"What did Pete get?" The teen asked curiously. Natasha snorted.
"You're not gonna be the strongest anytime soon," she said, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. "Right now he's at about twelve tons, but he's still growing and getting stronger every day so there's no telling what he'll cap out at as an adult."
Hebi shrugged. "That's fine. I can settle with being the most flexible," she said easily, before blinking. "Shit. I forgot, I also have a really low oxygen requirement," she told them, remembering her most recently discovered ability. "I've been able to hold my breath about twenty minutes, but it might be longer if necessary."
"I thought we were done!" Clint teased, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. Hebi snorted. She knew she had a lot of little abilities, but not many were very strong and most of them had specific applications, so it wasn't like she was super strong overall or anything. Plus, the shed thing put a damper on most of her abilities for a solid week every month, so.
"She's also extremely fast with strike and reaction speed," Natasha piped up, eyebrow raised. "You saw that one, Barton."
Bucky blinked, and looked at Hebi again. After a minute, he nodded to himself. "Okay, let's spar."
Hebi froze for a moment, eyes wide. She stopped breathing without realizing it, a veritable statue. Clint turned his head, snickering to himself. Bucky rolled his eyes. Yeah, he liked Hebi, but he wasn't gonna go easy on her. She'd get over the hero thing eventually, like Peter did with Tony and Bruce.
"Come on," he said as he walked over to the large open area of the gym. He patted her shoulder with one hand as he went, as gently as he could. That minor contact was more than enough to wake her up, sending the girl jumping. After coming back to reality, she let out a slow breath and composed herself.
"Alright. I'm just gonna get my ass beat by Bucky Barnes. Totally fine," she muttered to herself. "Not super cool or anything. Nope."
Bucky shook his head at her, and got into position. Hebi followed suit.
"Remember," Bucky spoke softly. "I'm more durable than the other two. Use a little of your strength or I'll mow you over," he warned. Faced with that reality, Hebi calmed down the rest of the way and slipped into her fighting mentality.
He was right. She shouldn't get distracted by who he was to her. This was a spar, for however long it lasted she had to pretend that he was not a friend or idol or she would be at a disadvantage. In order to make sure she didn't get distracted, she utilized that skill that Stick had pointed out so long ago already. She detached herself like she had done earlier, but to a much more minor degree. Focusing on Bucky's face, she acknowledged all the emotions it brought her and temporarily shoved them into a mental box and slid the box away. She would reopen it when the spar was over.
Natasha called start. Hebi and Bucky both sprung forward, both of their enhanced speeds blurring their figures. Hebi was much smaller than Bucky, which gave her an advantage considering she was also stronger physically. But what he lacked (compared to her) in speed and brute strength he made up for tremendously in pure skill.
Hebi caught his metal hand in her own, squeezing to keep it still since she knew it was made of vibranium and wouldn't break even under her grip's pressure. It was almost funny to see her stop it, considering her hand was less than half the size of his. She continued with the movement fluidly, jumping and twisting in the air so her legs came up behind his neck. Before she could wrap him, he swung his arm aside and ducked under her legs, aiming a strong punch to her abdomen with his flesh fist. she gasped, letting go and flying several feet. Getting ahold of herself, she twisted to land on her feet. Once she did, Bucky was already back and hammering more hits towards her. She was ducking and twisting and jumping around his strokes, but a lot still glanced her. With his massive strength and the help of a heavy metal arm, even glancing strikes sent her reeling. At one point she had managed to balance on Bucky's metal arm with her hands, relentlessly kicking at his body with her other limbs even as he shook her off.
"Oh, I forgot about the perfect balance," Clint's voice came up from the background.
But she didn't let up, she kept coming back and back and back, shooting kicks at his knees and grabbing at his hair like the petty street fighter she was inside. Her hair was shorter than his, meaning he didn't really have much of anything to grab on in retaliation and had to deal with the abuse to his scalp with a grimace. He spun, gripping her wrists and throwing her off. She flipped, kicking off the wall he had thrown her into before she could truly impact on it. She had put all her strength into her toes there, sending her at him faster than he could dodge. She managed to wrap around him completely, but he jammed his fingers into a pressure point on her neck before she could start to squeeze too hard. That made her loosen enough for him to toss her down, pin her, and stop his metal fist just a few inches from her face.
They were both panting, but a few seconds was all that had to pass before Bucky pulled back and got off of her. Once he did, the box in Hebi's mind popped open and she couldn't stop her smile. That smile turned into a laugh of glee that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Still laughing, she grabbed his hand and let him help her up before stretching her back to work out the kinks she had gotten in it during the fight.
"Holy shit that was great," she said, shaking her head. Bucky rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms.
"You should still spar with us every weekend," he said. "You rely a little too much on your—"
"Excuse me, but Peter, Captain Rogers, and Boss are headed up to see how Hebi did on her first day."
Hebi cursed, running over to the center of the ring again.
"—abilities," Bucky finished with a sigh. "Okay, let's pretend to still be sparring normally. Barton, clear the bench press."
The adjustable weight still boasted Hebi's result, which disappeared once Clint shut the thing off and put it away so there was no evidence of it having moved.
When Steve, Tony, and Peter arrived, Bucky was busy dodging all of Hebi's strikes. She was going fast and professionally, but not superhumanly. Bucky was also attacking on a low level, and Hebi responded well. She made a show of getting hit once or twice on purpose, but for the most part it looked like they were keeping the spar even.
The dumbed-down spar ended in Bucky's win, obviously, and that was when Tony decided to clap his hands to get their attention (as if he hadn't already had it, but he didn't need to know that).
"So! What's the verdict?" Tony asked briskly. "How many months of training are we looking at before I have to worry about her risking her neck?"
Bucky and Hebi straightened up, and Nat and Clint walked over to join them.
"None," Bucky answered after sharing a brief glance with the other two adults. "Hebi was just getting tired, so we went easy that last spar. She's surprisingly advanced."
"We want her to still train with us every week," Natasha interrupted, hands on her hips. "But we're clearing her to be Pete's emergency backup effective immediately," Hebi pumped her fist in the air with a silent cheer as if she hadn't already known their decision.
"At this point, she's only gonna get better with lots of sparring and practice," Clint admitted. "We'll drill her in different scenarios she might encounter too, but her raw combat skill is up to par."
All three men had their jaws dropped. Some more obvious than others (being that only Tony kept his shock subtle, the other two were embarrassingly open books). The blonde of the group was the first to recover.
"Really?" He looked over at Hebi. "Well, that's amazing! Those three are extremely picky. Now how about we go and have dinner, they've probably worked you hard enough to starve you," Steve joked. Hebi rolled her eyes playfully, grinning. Peter was still gawking.
"But-Buh-but," He stammered, his hands flying everywhere in odd gestures that meant nothing. "But I've been training with them for almost three months now and they still say that I wouldn't be cleared for patrol if they were judging from pure technique!" He complained, then his head dropped into his hands and he groaned. "Howwwwwww?"
Hebi laughed at him unrepentantly. "I've told you since I first met you," she reminded him cheerfully. "I'm a badass, and I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"Black eye, still healing cut," he argued, pointing to her face. Her black eye had stopped swelling as much, and was more of a green than a purple, black and blue now. She touched it gently, and tilted her head.
"I told you. Three guys, caught me off guard. You can't block every hit," she defended herself, shrugging.
"I guess that just gives us a reason to teach you crowd control," Natasha spoke up deviously. Hebi paled for the first time in a while. "We can all attack you at once. How about next Sunday, same time?"
"I'm gonna die before graduation," she groaned miserably, sighing. "Yeah, I'll be here for you to beat up," she agreed reluctantly.
Tony looked really annoyed. "Damn it. I thought the training would stall you and snap you to your senses," he grumbled. "Whatever. I've handled one teenage vigilante, I can handle him and a teenage backup for said vigilante. Do me a favor and don't die."
Hebi met his surprisingly serious eyes, and rose her eyebrows in response.
"Cheer up old man," she drawled. "I'm hungry, let's go eat."
She left the room, but nobody missed how she refused to promise Tony that she'd live. They stood there in somber thought for a moment before deciding to shrug it off and follow her.
All except Natasha, Clint, and Bucky, who shared frowns behind their friend's backs. They'd have to work on Hebi's possible death wish next.
—*—*—*—*—*
"You are fucked," Foggy said kindly. Shaking his head as he looked at me. I groaned, slamming my head forward in the desk.
"I hate to say it," Karen spoke up, "But I agree. One vigilante thing going on? Fine, you can barely handle it but fine," she rationalized, pausing to pat her papers against the table so the stack was even. "But two? And you get beat up by Matt on Saturday only to go and let avengers beat you up on Sunday?"
"I'm not actually getting a second vigilante identity or anything," I protested, sliding a drawer shut as I helped Karen with filing. "No special suit, no code name, I'm basically a benched backup. Most of the Avengers haven't actually seen me spar, so they are going out of their way to make sure I won't need to help Pete out. It's not a problem," I told them stubbornly. It was Wednesday, and Peter had been complaining to me about his family keeping closer tabs than usual on his patrols in order to prevent her from having to actually do anything.
"Murphy's Law, Hebi," Matt warned, reading something in Braille. "It'll become a problem soon enough. Just wait."
"You are not helping," I said as I turned and pointed at him accusingly. "You were on my side just the other day. You said, 'good job thinking on the spot, Hebi,'" I mocked, making my voice gravelly in an imitation of his Daredevil voice. It made Foggy bark out a laugh.
"Yeah, but that's because I thought it would be a while before the Avenger's were actually out of the city, and that they might have known about Boa by then," he admitted. "But half of them are overseas for a mission today, and the other half is doing something undercover somewhere very classified,"
He reminded her. "Only Tony and Bruce are still here, and Tony is running communications and mission control for both halves of the team. If anything—"
"Don't say it," I warned him, knowing he was about to tempt the universe. "Don't—"
"I'm just saying that today is the kind of day Murphy's Law likes the most," he finished. Not ten seconds later, an explosion rocked the building from down the street. I glared at him.
"I told you not to," I said, throwing my hands up. "I fucking told you."
"It's okay Hebi," Foggy said consolingly, getting up and going to look out the window. "Hopefully it was just something normal. Explosions don't always… Yeah never mind, get your phone out."
I raised an eyebrow. I pulled out the device. "Why—" no sooner had those words left my mouth did the phone ring. "Oh my god, you've turned into a psychic," I said blandly, answering it. "Yeah?"
"Oh good, Hebi! Hey, uh," Peter's voice came through, following by sounds that were suspiciously familiar. I took a slow breath, walking next to Foggy to see what he saw. There, all the way down the street, was Spider-man fighting what looked like a guy with mechanic tentacles. I felt my eye twitch. They were heading away from the office, but that didn't mean much. "Well, Octy here might have ran us both straight through a building and d—Stark is busy, and Hulk wouldn't help right now. So, uh. Emergency?"
I felt like crying. "This is your fault," I said to Matt. "You had to jinx it," I turned my attention back to Peter. "Yeah, I'm guessing you want me on rescue?"
"Pretty plea—oh shit gotta go!"
He hung up on me. I sighed through my nose, tossing my phone to Matt and running to backpack. Inside was my hearing aid case, which was new. One side held my normal ones, which I put away and quickly replaced with the ones on the other side that had access to Spider-Man's comms. Then I slipped out what looked like a metal sphere, clicking the button and slipping the motorcycle-style helmet over my head.
"Yeah, no mask," Karen teased, but her face was tense. I waved her off.
"I'm just in rescue. You guys should go home just in case. Carefully. And you know, maybe Daredevil can remain on call," Matt only nodded tensely before I ran out into the street without another word. High-tailing it, I went straight into the crumbling and fire-ridden building. Apparently the crazy's metal arms had sparked a wire as he sent him and Spider-Man through it, starting a fire.
Great.
I grumbled in annoyance. Rescue was… not my strong suit. Combat, yes.
Saving people?
Uh.
I needed a 101 class for that. Spent too much time learning the opposite.
Nonetheless, I ran right in and acted on as much logic and common sense as I had available for me in that situation. I pushed out anyone I ran into as I made my way up to the top floor of the tall building, grimacing as I could feel the instability in every floor of the building.
"You okay, Hebi? We're coming back you're way so be careful!" Peter's voice sparked to life through my hearing aids. I grunted in acknowledgement, having one passed out adult slung on either shoulder.
"I'm fine for now," I responded. The helmet covered my mouth, thankfully, and was equipped with an air filter to prevent me from breathing in smoke. "Thank your dad for this helmet by the way, because there is so much fire and I am thankful to not be coughing my lungs out right now."
"What do you mean, fi—oh, I see it, that's bad. Give me a se—heads up!"
I jumped out of the front door, putting the two people I had carried down in as safe a spot as I could find in two seconds. That was when Spider-Man came flying over my head to crash into the wall.
"Smooth," I muttered over the comms. He got up almost immediately, his head not even turning to me. "Toss me through the top window real quick?" I asked, already running towards him.
"Wait, what?" He said, but caught my ankle from where I jumped into the air anyway, and threw me up. The villain with the octopus arms managed to get there just in time for me to kick his face on the way up to catapult myself into the still burning building. I smiled to myself as Peter snorted over the comms before the sounds of fighting took over again. Trying incredibly hard to decipher the vibrations in the building, I steadily continued ferrying people down from the top to the bottom of the building. Once I got what I thought was the last person or and everyone that could still walk was helping the others get away, I saw a woman looking around frantically and searching for someone in the crowd.
Her body language was absolutely child's play to read. I groaned, running back into the building. First floor—no fresh human scent. It was hard to sift through the cloying, gag-worthy scent of smoke, but I forced myself to do it anyway. I kept sprinting up the stairs, finally picking it up.
Boy. Approximate age twelve, no vibrations except the very subtle thus of a heartbeat.
Well shit. Unconscious kid.
"Hebi?" Peter's voice came through my hearing aids. "Where are you? Karen says the building is structurally unsound and bound to fall any moment!"
I was extremely confused. Karen? But Peter had never met Karen. What was he talking about? "Who?"
"Oh, uh, the AI in my suit," he explained hastily. "I named her Karen— seriously, where are you? Doc Oc out here won't stay wrapped up long!"
I kicked down a door, rushing inside despite the fire being so close that the heat was drying my skin, sending my inner instincts flaring. It wanted out, it was threatened. It thought I couldn't protect us well enough, and wanted to take our survival into its own hands. I kept it down firmly.
"Eighth floor. Front of the building, fourth window from your— left, I think," I recited, finally seeing the boy's small form. His breaths were shallow and labored. "If I jump out the window will you catch us?"
"Us?" He asked. "There's someone else? Hebi, Karen says the building is starting to fall! Jump now!" I grunted, having been intimately warmed of that two whole seconds before he could, having to shove aside a beam that had fallen between me and the kid. If not for super strength, we would have been separated far too well. Ignoring the new burns on my hands, I hadn't had time to put on gloated, I picked the boy up in a bridal hold and sprinted to the window.
"Coming out now!" I warned my friend, turning so that my back was the part of my body that burst through the glass. For a long moment that left me giddy with adrenaline, fear, and a creeping sense of resignation that I determined to firmly ignore the existence of, before a surprisingly strong arm wrapped around my waist. A short pendulum swing into an alley later, and Peter put me on the ground. I thanked him absently before running out to return the kid to his parent. I'd have time to thank him properly later. I didn't stay long enough for the frantic woman to thank me, above the boy into her arms and jogging away. I still managed to hear one choked sob and relieved sigh of a name, but got out of range quickly.
I was at home twenty minutes later, letting Foggy slather my hands in burn ointment, when a knock sounded at the door. I looked over to Matt.
"Who is it? My scent receptors are still too clogged with smoke," I asked him softly. He grinned, and went to answer the door without answering me.
"Hello?" He asked, playing his usual part.
"Oh, hi Mister Murdock. Is Hebi here?"
"Oh, Peter!" The jerk acted surprised, making me glower at the back of his head. "Yes, she's here. Do you want to see her?"
"Yes please. I just heard that she got asked by Spider-Man to be emergency rescue aid, and I wanted to check up to make sure she was okay," he rambled, unaware that Matt knew his secret, and Foggy was bound to make the last few connections after that awkward speech. I hadn't told him or Karen who spider-man was, only that I found out his identity and decided to be his nanny like with Matt.
My dad led my friend over to me, and I smiled up at him despite his wide eyes at the burns on my palm, clearly displayed with his Foggy was still treating them.
"Hebi!" He scolded, sitting next to me and taking one hand in his to look it over better. "Dad said you were supposed to back off the moment you got even a minor injury!"
I snorted. "First off, did you honestly think I'd listen to that?"
"I had hope," he said, sounding resigned. "I had very optimistic hope."
I laughed at him, shaking my head. "Besides, worry wart, I got these right before getting that last kid. So, technically, I did back off right after getting hurt. Just had to push some hot debris away from him, nothing major," I assured him. He sighed, relaxing.
"We need to get you heat resistant gloves," he muttered. "At least the mask filtered out smoke."
The substance, but not the smell, I acknowledged silently with a mental funeral for my poor abused scent receptors.
"Anyway, thanks for helping out," Peter said, smiling widely at me. "It means a lot to— I mean, it probably means a lot to Spider-man, to have help like that when he's in a tough spot, you know?"
I stubbornly held back my amusement, smiling back.
"Look at that, you're all taken care off. Wrap up your hands to keep the ointment on, don't do anything stupid. Matt and I have to get back to work now," Foggy said, winking at me very unsubtly and making Peter burst into a dark red blush. I rolled my eyes as he dragged my dad out the door, and I turned to my friend.
"Don't thank me," I responded finally, leaning back. "You caught me, I owe you. Even if I did give you warning," I shrugged. Peter shook his head.
"That's my job though, you didn't have to help. But it means a lot, I don't think I would have gotten to everyone in time with that creep being so hard to take down. But you did waste a lot of time, so maybe Uncle Bucky and Aunt Mat can help you get better at rescue later," I shoved him playfully with my shoulder, and he laughed. "I can help you wrap your hands," he offered, taking up the gauze and doing the simple job for me. I let him.
"Not too bad for my first time helping out a vigilante though, huh?" I mused out loud. Peter shook his head happily.
"Nope, you did great."
It felt good. I didn't fight, I didn't hurt anyone. For the first time in a very long while, I only helped. I only saved.
It felt really, really good.
