It's been 573 days.
573 days and ten people crossed off her list— ten people across three continents, five countries and nine cities.
Still, Seventeen was hardly satisfied with her efforts; a scowl on her face as her eyes flickered over the pages of the current New York Time's issue. A familiar name in the article that should be about her piqued her interest, though, and the girl sat up straighter on the old, leather couch stood in the middle of the abandoned warehouse she had called home for the past few months.
Captain America
— it read in bold letters, catching her attention from the moment she laid her eyes on it on the streets.
She was used to seeing her name — well, her deeds, more likely — spread out and described in detail on the front pages of numerous newspapers; even spotted them on TV every now and then whenever she came across one.
Though, seeing someone else's name printed in bold letters in an article about the justice she had served didn't sit right with her. Once more, her eyes flew over the lines in question.
Captain America to track down notorious serial killer targeting high profile individuals.
Seventeen smiled, lips turning upwards in a mocking manner. Simultaneously, her hand absentmindedly patted the space on the couch beside her, inviting the black cat sat by her feet to join her on top of it.
Her eyes only diverted from the paper for a flicker of a second, throwing the animal a glance as it curled up beside her, head resting on her thigh and content purring audible just a moment later. She continued reading.
Captain America to track down notorious serial killer targeting high profile individuals.
After the tragic and untimely death of Alexander Hopkins (Defence Secretary of the United States of America), Captain America is to put an end to gruesome killing spree spread out across the globe.
A source confirms Steve Rogers (Captain America) himself has brought it upon himself to finally eliminate the threat after years of citizens and high ranking officials alike living in fear for their own lives—
Seventeen rolled her eyes at the words, closing the newspaper and throwing it onto the small, wooden coffee table before her in annoyance. They knew exactly who had to fear for their lives— who had her coming after them.
She had never laid a hand on just any ordinary citizen. She knew that just as much as they did. Though, enforcing fear seemed to be a far more viable option than just letting the world know Seventeen was simply serving justice to those who had failed her.
Her eyes darted over to the little journal on the table, the newspaper she had thrown covering half of it. A noise of complaint escaped Gin's mouth as she reached for it, and as if offended by her movement, he curled up on the opposite side of the couch they were sharing.
As she untied the lace that held the pages of the black, leather-bound journal together, she couldn't help but inhale a sharp breath, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse— bouncing off each wall as if to taunt her.
Her gaze didn't tear from the pages; the names that had been imprinted in her mind for the rest of her life smiling back at her brightly; as if to taunt her.
She wouldn't let them.
Every single one of those names — some crossed out, while others, to her dismay, were still perfectly intact — carried a little bit of who she was with them; Why Seventeen was Seventeen— how she became to be who she was today.
Oscar Weinfield — a kind-looking, skinny blond with glasses — was the first on her list, the first out of seventeen to pay for what they had done to her. It only made sense in her eyes.
Weinfield was her first point of contact to them, the first to approach her, and the one who accompanied her to their compound when everything had been settled at the orphanage.
He had kind eyes, she remembered. Immediately after, she also remembered he had to have kind eyes in order to convince her what she could sign up for would eventually change the lives of millions— for the better, of course.
What he didn't tell her, then, when she was mere twelve years old, was that after she would pour her entire life into their vision of the future, undergo numerous procedures to serve them to the best of her abilities and survive what fifteen people before her hadn't, they'd shut it down and leave her with nothing.
What he didn't know, then, was that those same brown eyes belonging to the child before him would be the last thing he'd ever see before he shut his forever;
The number one carved into the skin behind his ear just like they had tattooed the number seventeen behind hers.
Oscar Weinfield was the first.
The other nine simply followed. And the missing seven were still to come.
Her eyes fell on Alexander Hopkins again; Victim ten, and his name freshly crossed out of her journal. He was one of the many men who thought corrupting a young, naive teenage girls mind would help them make the world a better place, one murder at a time— foolishly so.
Seventeen was convinced she only delivered whatever Karma had been coming their way for at least a decade now.
She also knew that for number eleven to go as smoothly as ten did, she had a limited time frame— had to execute it perfectly like they had taught her to for years. Especially with Captain America on her tail.
In all honesty, Seventeen had expected any of the Avengers to show up at the warehouse a long time ago. Though it seemed they cared about dead government officials as little as she did— she wasn't quite sure what it was about this one that made them finally pick up on it.
For a moment, she was almost giddy, wondering whether Steve Rogers would be the first fair fight she had engaged in, in a while; the first one who posed a challenge— a threat, even.
Because even though Seventeen didn't know much, just like everyone else, she knew about Rogers.
And she was tempted to let herself get caught just to find out if what they've been saying about him and his team was true.
