Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! My gift to you is the update! I know it's taken forever, but I have no intention of abandoning this story. Luis is my baby and I've already put him through enough.
I own nothing except my OC's.
Sunday, Day Nine
My life has been a series of hardships. It's not easy, and the few times it has been something horrible happens after. For example, go to fancy charity event at the MET and then end up killing step-father. It's been cruel, and it seems that I've been set up to fail since birth.
I can't remember the first time I was ever hit – it's happened so much it's all just blurred together. Flashes of bruises and the memory of flesh hitting flesh; none of them bring me happiness. And why would they?
I used to bottle those emotions up because I didn't want to burden others with my problems. I became the most sarcastic, arrogant guy in my year because if I wasn't that guy, then I was the abused kid. We had kids like that; kids who came to school sullen, they'd make their friends practically beg them for the truth on why they were so upset. It was usually small things like they got slapped for sneaking out.
I would get so angry and jealous of them. What did they have to complain about? Only the night before I got punched and spit on because Lupe knocked over a glass, and they're crying about one little slap. So, then I would smirk and lean over to Alejandro and say something mean and cruel about the kid.
"If he's that over dramatic all the time I would fucking slap him too." And it hurt me to say those words, but we would both laugh and I would pretend everything was okay. We would both act like I didn't have a black eye the week before or a bloody nose that wouldn't stop bleeding that morning. Looking back, I'm ashamed. Domestic abuse isn't a contest on who has it worse. Getting hit is getting hit; it usually hurts emotionally more than physically. Still hurts like a bitch physically though.
Looking back I regret a lot of things. I regret not taking that painting course at the youth center. I regret that my first girlfriend was Giselle Vicario. I regret not being more open with Tony and fighting with him hours ago. I regret arguing with my mom and making my sister cry. I'll never be able to fix the things I've done, but the past is in the past, and I'm pretty sure I'm dying anyway.
The burning from the hydrogen peroxide injection has faded, but that side of my body is now completely numb. I've lost too much blood, and I've been water boarded for so long I don't know if it's been for minutes or hours. Charlie left to get another two gallons. So far he's used four in total.
"Luis?" I hear the scared whisper through the darkness. The rag has fallen off my face and I'm thankful. "Luis, are you okay?"
I don't have it in me to answer, or lie. I can't move my lips; I can barely think straight. But, somewhere, deep down inside me, I find a few words. "You're going to be fine," I hear myself say. My voice is raspy and the words only come out as a whisper. "Marta, I swear to God you will be fine. You're going to get out of here and live a good life."
"What about you?" Is her reply and I have to bite back my immediate response. I'm not going to be so lucky.
"I'm alive, aren't I?" I mean for the words to sound light, playful, but they come across bitter and broken.
"You don't want to be. I heard what you said to the man." Marta says, voice cracking.
I open my mouth, but before I can speak Charlie storms back in and I snap my mouth shut. When he comes into view I see that he's carrying: A syringe full of sickly dark purple liquid. I almost groan at the sight of it. I can't take much more of this.
"Don't worry, Luis." Charlie seems to notice my horror. "This isn't for you."
"What are you -?" I don't finish, but panic rises in me when I see him approaching my tied up sister. "Don't. Please don't do this. Give it to me. Don't do this, Charlie! You've taken almost everything from me! Just leave me my sister!" I'm screaming, straining against the binds with the last of my energy.
He flicks a steady finger against the vial as he bends down by Marta who whimpers and cowers against the wall. "I've left you with your life, isn't that enough?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Then kill me," I plead, eyes stinging.
He pauses, considering it for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I think this will be much more fun. Besides, you super dad didn't win the game. The Chitauri are loose in time square right now. They were too late."
"NO!"
But the needle is already in her arm, and his finger is already pushing down the plunger, filling her veins with Chitauri blood. I can't hear my heart shatter or my cries over Marta's glass shattering screams. I can't stop the tears as I hear her pain and see her jerk and twist, trying to find a way to get the poison out.
Wanna know what I regret?
I regret not being able to keep my dying promise that she would actually live.
How long have I been here? Hours? Minutes? Seconds? Time has become one big blur of pain and screams. Awhile ago Marta became very quiet, only the occasional cry or groan comes from her direction. I feel dead inside. My body reacts to the pain like it's supposed to, but my mind barely registers it.
Is this how all the greatest people get their beginnings?
Is this how martyrs meet their ends?
I don't know which I'd prefer at this point.
Charlie rips the rag off of my face suddenly and I'm once again assaulted by the bright over head light.
"What's wrong, Luis? Am I boring you?" He sounds annoyed but I can't be bothered to actually look at him. My throat burns too much to answer so I just lay here, staring at that light until there are spots in my eyes.
My head jerks to the side as it comes into contact with his hand, and a low groan of pain escapes me.
"Too good to speak to me now?" He asks, bringing his hand back as if to hit me. I wish I could tell him that I've lost my voice somewhere. Maybe it'll never return again. Gone is the sharp tongue I've used as a weapon and the arrogance I've used as a shield. It's been washed away in a new form of baptism; I've been re-born into a dying man's body.
As he brings his hand down he stops right before he actually hits me. A look of understanding set onto his twisted face.
"It's different, you know." I'm not sure what he's talking about. "The dose of Chitauri blood I gave your insufferable father was enough to increase his strength… If I'm being honest I'm not sure what it'll do to her. Thank God she's finally quieted down."
Maybe it's one last of defiance, or maybe it's my last act of stupidity. But my voice returns to me, briefly, like it's gifting me with only a few my words before I meet my end.
"He wasn't my dad."
Charlie's voice sounds surprised when he answers, "Oh? Oh, yes, you're real father is Stark. I don't know how I could've made that mistake."
Charlie get's up and runs a hand through his dark hair. "You and I are alike Luis. We are. You don't have to deny it. I too once had a taste of the life you were living with Stark. Parties, women, money, and technology. Power in its rawest form; until it's ripped away from you." His voice is bitter, and I vaguely remember what Tony told me about him. Kicked out because he tried cutting Pepper's finger off.
He laughs loudly, "Well, that was-." His voice breaks off and he watches Marta in the corner intently.
There's a sound, like the whooshing of air, brief bit frequent. Marta is making a noise, like she's screaming through her teeth. I try with the last traces of my energy to move my head to look at her, but my head's turned to metal and I barely move. From my position, I can see her bare foot. Her bare foot that is… metal? Rock. Wood. Magma. It changes, changes with each whooshing of air.
"Dios mío," I mutter, stomach turning. This is a result of the blood. This – this – whatever this is. I feel sick. I'm seeing double and my head feels to light, probably from the blood loss. My eyes shut briefly, but I force them open. Stay awake. Gotta stay awake.
Charlie chuckles, "Well, well, well, Luis." He turned to face me, eyes bright. "Looks like I just found an even better form of power."
I lift my head before it falls back with a heavy thump. The only thing I can think of before I finally pass out is how I hope I don't wake up.
That would make this so much easier.
I wake up to the loudest boom I've ever heard in my life. Loud enough that it shakes the walls, causing dust from the ceiling to rain down on me. I don't know how long I've been out, but I don't think it's been long. If I had to guess probably like ten minutes at the least; my eyes still are heavy and my head is spinning.
I hear shouting in the distance, somewhere beyond this room. What even is beyond this room? Damn it, how long have I been here again? No, I need to stay focused. Noise there was a noise and now I'm awake and dying. Right. The building shudders again, I can practically feel the walls shaking. I'm scared they're going to collapse and crush me, but I guess that wouldn't be such a bad way to go… Who am I lying to? That would suck.
There are only two explanations to this: Either Charlie's finally going to kill us, or someone's here to save us. I refuse to get my hope up for the latter. I don't think I'll be able to take the disappointment. I try opening my mouth to call for my sister, but my throat is so dry my voice barely makes a noise. Besides the boom this rooms been eerily silent and I've learned from experience that that's probably not a good thing.
Light erupts out of the corner of the room, and I see the silhouette of a person standing in a door frame. The new sight makes me dizzier and my head drops back to the table. Dots dance before my eyes as the figure approaches, quickly, gracefully, and I know only one person who can walk like that.
Natasha.
She finally approaches, face one of stone cold determination, but her eyes betray her relief. I dig up a smirk from somewhere within me to give her. Maybe to assure her that it's okay even though it's not, and it's obvious by the panic on her face that she knows it's not upon seeing me. I must look like shit.
"Hold on, Luis." She pulls a knife from her belt and begins cutting through the thick leather strips holding me down. My vision blurs again, but I will not fall asleep again. I want to be awake for this. I need to be awake for this; if I'm going to die I want to die in a hospital, not covered in my own blood while lying on a filthy table.
She manages to free one of my arms, but it's not like I can move it anyway. It's my right arm, on the same side as the two cuts Charlie made earlier. I think I've lost two much blood. Natasha is about to move onto the strap holding down my right angle before her right arm whips out, throwing the knife. There's enough light for me to the Barbie doll form earlier move out of the way just in time to not be hit.
The blonde clicks her tongue, "Natalia Romanova, is that how you greet an old friend?"
Natasha's face flashes with remembrance, enough to make her open for an easy attack. The blonde charges forward, swinging her leg up in a perfect ark. Natasha dodges, but the kick still clips her in the chin enough for the Blonde's heel to have drawn blood.
"Dominika," Natasha greets, "It's been a long time."
"It has," Barbie, or should I say, Dominika agrees. "But I must admit I am happy that after all these years I have a chance to kill you, traitor."
Dominika moves to strike again, but this time Natasha's ready, and easily deflects the hit. She grabs the other woman's hand and twists hard enough that the crunching of bone fills the air along with a scream. Natasha easily, pulls her forward, using her other hand to land a hit to the stomach. She does it all with the graceful precision of a trained professional, flipping Dominika over easily.
"It seems even you strayed from the KGB once they fell. What are you doing working here? Taking mercenary jobs?" Natasha asks, as she turns on her widow bites.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" The woman spits. She rises to her feet, blocking a punch and then another. She's taken a defensive stance, but she's favoring her right arm, holding it too high, making it easy weak spot due to her hurt hand. Natasha uses this to her advantage, feigning a left hit, but really striking with her right, and landing the punch right on the other girls ribcage. Dominika jerks violently from the electricity, convulsing and falling to the ground.
And then the wall above Dominika gives out.
It happens in slow motion, I open my mouth to yell, but it's too late. The wall is tumbling down and falling, bricks and chunks of cement hitting the ground in a plume of smoke. Natasha lunges out of the way just in time, but Dominika isn't as lucky. She hits the ground, covering her head, but a single chunk of cement is what hits her in the ankle. Her face is one of surprise as the chunk makes contact with a sickening crack.
Her face contorts into one of pain as she cries out, knocking away the cement with her hand. She brings up her leg and touches the ankle before yanking her hand back and hissing in pain.
"Are you okay?" I manage to croak out, but I don't think she hears me because she doesn't reply. She just looks up, and as I follow her gaze I see a figure on top of the rubble.
Tony Stark.
Almost immediately when he sees me he flies down. His mask rises, revealing his panicked face.
"Luis! How are you? Are you okay?" He's panicking at the sight of me, I can tell. He raises his hand and a laser shoots out, burning off the strip on my left angle and wrist.
"It's okay, you're gonna be fine," he mutters. I could almost cry, in fact, I almost do cry. Am I crying? I can't tell. I'm starting to feel numb. Everything feels like slow motion, and the room is once again spinning. I want to open my mouth, want to say how happy I am, but I have more important things.
"Can you walk?" He asks me. All I can manage is a shake of my head. Darkness keeps clouding my vision. He tries lifting me up, and almost immediately a sharp pain blossoms from the two gashes below my shoulder causing me to groan.
"Shit," He curses, "Shit, shit, shit. I'm sorry, but this is probably going to hurt." He lifts me, suddenly and the pain almost causes me to really lose consciousness, but I fight it as best as I can.
I try opening my mouth to tell him he can't leave yet. I want to tell him Natasha hurt her ankle in the blast, and that he can't forget my sister.
Oh God.
The wall. The wall fell. She was – oh shit, she was chained to the pipe on the wall, and the – and the fucking wall fell. The wall fell.
The wall fell.
I use the last amount of adrenalin I have to struggle, much to his confusion. I have to get to her. She could be crushed. She could be dying.
"My sister," I say, struggling, but to no avail. "My sister. She's under the - under the -." I'm crying now, I realize. Crying as Tony's face turns into one of sheer horror.
"Romanoff, are you ok?"He calls out over my rambling.
"Yea. Go, send agents back for me." I hear her reply.
I'm sobbing, curling in on myself in his arms because after all this pain. After all this work, after finally getting out of this hell hole this can't be how it ends.
It isn't fair.
My vision tunnels, and my weak kicks and punches are dying down as my strength leaves me. Darkness takes me, and as it does I can't help but reflect on one thing I thought about earlier. My life has been a series of hardships. It's not easy, and the few times it has been something horrible happens after.
I finally get saved.
My sister is crushed under a wall in the process.
And it's all my fault.
I know Luis is feeling sorry for himself a lot lately, but can you blame him? Kids been through a lot. Anyway, sorry this one took forever, but school is fucking crazy, and finals were giving me a heart attack so I didn't have time to write. I was also taking a creative writing class so I was busy writing short stories for that, but it's over now so Peeling it all away is officially back in business! Anyway, please leave reviews because they really motivate me to update quicker!
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