chrysalism. n.
the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension...
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New York, New York. June 28th, 2017. 11:46 PM.
"Very good, darling," he smiled at her. She stared at him, and then to the destruction that laid a few yards in front of them. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, pulling her close. "Soon, you will have your own kingdom. Where we will be judge, jury, and executioner."
She matched his evil smile, waving her hand once more to blow away the Asgardian warriors that sprinted towards them.
Malone tossed and turned, tangled in the sheets of her bed. Her sweat soaked her bedding and hair, matting to the pillow. She cried and whimpered, but despite her efforts to wake up, she was trapped in her personal hell.
Kenny's eyes flew open as he heard small cries coming from somewhere on the floor. He panicked, springing from his bed and throwing the door open. He heard the faint whimpering coming from across the hall, his little sister's room. "Malone," he called as he threw the door open. His eyes didn't have time to adjust to the darkness of her room before a warm glow was thrown towards him, engulfing the side of his shirt in flames. He quickly dropped to the ground, effectively putting the flames out before the burn went from minor to a first degree. Malone awoke with a scream, and Kenny scrambled from the floor, still slapping at his T-shirt.
"Malone! Malone," he panted, rushing to her side. "Malone, you're okay." Her big brown eyes stared up at him from where she sat, absolutely terrified.
"Kenny?" She squeaked. "Oh my god, did I do this to you?" Her hands went straight to the black, charred holes burned into Kenny's old Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt.
"Malone, it's okay," he sighed, pulling her into a hug. "You didn't hurt me, I don't think," but that statement was soon disputed as Kenny hissed when Malone tried to wrap her arms around his torso. "It's okay, remember how Mom taught us first aid? The burn isn't that bad, just relax. I'll be right back." Kenny stood and walked into Malone's bathroom, wetting a washcloth with cold water and pressing it to his side. When he returned to the dark bedroom, he saw Malone curled up in a ball, chewing on her nails. "Tell me what happened."
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Oymyakon, Russia. June 29th, 2017. 1:29 AM.
The team descended into the thick forest, trying to stay as quiet as possible. They had discovered a small compound in the middle of nowhere, and they assumed this was their best bet at finding Rumlow and hopefully, Cole.
"Three guards," Steve whispered into his headset. Bucky peeked around the tree he hid behind, locking on the closest guard with his scope.
"I can make two," he whispered.
"No, Nat's on it," Steve replied. He watched as Natasha snuck up from behind the guard and silently knocking him out and taking his gun. She nodded at Bucky from inside the fence, and he sprinted towards her.
