*5* - Meet and Greet

10.1K 280 92
                                    

My "freedom" doesn't start for another few days thanks to my stubbornness and trust issues

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

My "freedom" doesn't start for another few days thanks to my stubbornness and trust issues. But once I am allowed some time away from my room—cell, whatever you want to call it—I don't feel as appreciative as I should.

I know why: because I have to be babysat.

Black Widow is my assigned babysitter for today. I grudgingly follow alongside her as she gives me a slight tour. I'm dressed in baggy clothes that I wore from the night before, my hair is a little less tame than I'd like.

"What's your game?" I break the silence.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I'm asking." My eyes roam everywhere even though we're just going down a hallway. "Why are you treating me like this?"

"We have our reasons."

"Look, if it's for me to join your extensive band of misfits, no thank you. I have my own band back with Hydra."

"Hydra, the people who haven't come for you, and it's been a little over two weeks."

I grit my teeth. "They're just planning a good rescue mission."

"And you know this, how?"

"I just know it." My parents, if they survived, wouldn't abandon me. I'm their little girl, their only child. They can't deem me a lost cause. Until I can find a way to escape and avoid capture, I've got to play along. Not exactly what I had in mind, but what other options do I have?

Black Widow and I take an elevator, and she leads me into a rather busy kitchen area. There's a massive table, with various plates, cereal boxes, silverware, and cups sporadic about. I also smell French toast, which sends my stomach rumbling. Despite being in the hands of the enemy, I will openly admit their food is a million times better than the food I was given for the past seven years.

"Hey, look who decided to come out of hibernation," says the annoying voice of Tony Stark. I glare at him. "Hey, direct the glare elsewhere. For all I know, you can turn me into an ice sculpture with one look."

"No need to worry, I know the extent of my powers," I say flatly. My mind has the fleeting thought of heading back into my room.

"Does that include hair dye? It's not as blonde. If anything, you're almost a brunette now."

Right. I sometimes forget that when I use my power, my hair turns blonde—almost platinum. It slowly reverts back to its natural color the longer I go without using my abilities. Depending on how much I use, sometimes I'll only get frosty-blonde highlights. "It's a glitch."

"Are you feeling any better?" This question comes from Captain America himself, who looks like your Average Joe when he's not wearing his spangly outfit. Honestly, he looks model ready with that chiseled jaw and spiffed-up blond hair.

Bad Blood {*Pietro Maximoff*}Where stories live. Discover now