☑ THE SHADOW | Peter Maximoff

t h i r t y - s e v e n

~ 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚 ~

The explosion of the gate was loud in Amara's ears as she approached. Smoke sizzled from the now dented bars that once made up a protective barrier for the base, and she stepped through it, keeping her head high.

Alarms immediately wailed. Men screamed orders to each other in the distance before shots fired her way, but she redirected them back to their starting points, then blew up the weapons entirely.

She blasted down the first set of doors she saw and hopped up the set of stairs, her mind slowly coming to a small conclusion. If there was any time for her to use It, it would be now. Not completely, but... she could use It's help.

Really? It gasped in excitement. You'll let me help?

"Only if you still let me be in control," she muttered.

It chuckled darkly. Of course, Kahuna.

Amara had to stop in her tracks at the sudden influx of enhanced emotions. Anger. Hatred. Rage. But, most of all, a dangerous amount of hubris. They enveloped her and drove her to crave things she wouldn't normally want. After a month of captivity, she was the one that was in charge, and she was excited to watch these men bleed.

Peter needed a distraction, so a distraction was what he was going to get.

Her vision hadn't gone completely dark and blurry, which was the only sign left that she was still somewhat Amara. That was enough for her to keep going.

She used her energy to blow up a hole in the ceiling and take down a couple of walls, and the unfortunate people that she happened to see were quickly disposed of.

Every time she entered a room, it was pristine and depressing, and every time she left, the paintings were ripped apart, all the furniture was in pieces, the people were dead lumps on the floor, and more often than not, the ceiling completely caved in when she exited and moved on to the next.

There was a second thing she had to do to fulfill her part of the plan.

The muttering of a nearby man made her stick her hand out. Her power yanked him directly to her, and she wrapped her hand around his throat, tilted her head and squinted her eyes. He was an ugly man, with a crooked nose and matching crooked teeth, wrinkly skin, greying hair, and bloodshot eyes.

She watched a bead of sweat drip down his face as she leaned in.

"Where's the hangar?" she hissed, squeezing harder.

He stuttered something in Russian, and she quirked her eyebrow.

Her other hand stuck out to push the stomach out of the guard that tried to rush into the room guns-blazing, causing the one still trapped in her grip to shout in fright.

"Airplane," she said, holding out her palm so she could make her mutation form a tiny plane.

"O-O-Oh," the man chuckled nervously, swallowing thickly and nodding his head. "S-Sam-ol-let."

She threw him into the wall and pointed to the door. "Let's go!"

The man scrambled up and rushed out of the room, but he turned around to make sure she was following.

Amara knocked down every wall she passed and killed every person she saw. Their bullets didn't come anywhere near her, and there was an assortment of limbs thrown everywhere. She couldn't forget she was still the distraction. She had to make her presence known, and extreme beyond belief.

Her guide showed her down a wide range of turns and through quite the amount of doorways, but she followed without hesitation. She blew a hole into the floors of the three levels above her and finally the ceiling, threw a platoon of guards up it, but didn't bother to see what happened to them after that.