"Maybe if you quit being such a fucking hardass I could—"
Without warning, Truth struck out with a roundhouse kick, her foot on course to hit Michael's temple only to be thrown back onto the mat by the strength of her own force as a warped, bluish field projected itself in front of him.
Truth huffed in annoyance, hands flat on the mat as she lifted herself up with a wince.
"I thought we agreed no powers," she rasped.
"A fucking bruise is one thing, but you're out of your mind if you think I'm just going to sit and look pretty for a concussion," he retorted, stepping around her to speak directly to her face. His next words were a little softer as he crouched before her. "I get I'm a little rusty and everything, and maybe I'm not making it easy for either of us, but I'm not about to fight ten of you out in Serbia and it's not going to help much if I'm injured before I even get out in the field."
Gritting her teeth, Truth sat up, avoiding eye contact with her brother as she raised a hand, a clean towel flying into her palm.
She hated it when Michael was right. In the moment, it only made her that much more pissed off, but she acquiesced his point by beginning to unwrap her right hand.
Taking that as a sign that their spar was finished, Michael sat down nearby, legs crossed as he tried to get a read on her.
"Why don't we talk about it like normal people?" he suggested.
Truth snorted.
"We're not exactly considered 'normal people,' are we?"
There was something stemming behind those words, but Michael saw through her too easily to ignore the more pressing issue.
"When's the last time you talked to her?"
The last time Truth Castello had talked to Natasha Romanoff had been the day after Valentine's Day.
Natasha had been reeling from the day's events, fully ready to stumble into her apartment and sleep for the next twenty-four hours. Truth had disappeared a while ago, refusing to leave Anfisa out of her sights after the injuries she'd caused. Natasha had been left with her brother and, after a very terse conversation with Agent Clarke, they had been dismissed from the case altogether.
The two had talked a little bit once it had all died down. Natasha hadn't had a clue of what was going on, but Michael had assured her that whatever was to happen from that point on was out of their hands. He'd also gone out of his way to mention that Truth's behavior likely had more to do with the circumstances than it did with her, but...Natasha just couldn't shake this feeling that something wasn't right between them again.
Whether that was any fault on Natasha's part or whether Truth simply wasn't in the mood was the mystery.
And, granted, it was completely reasonable for Truth to be upset. Not only had the interrogation done a number on her, but coupled with the sight of Coulson held at gunpoint...
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𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙
Fanfiction𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧. 𝐀 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐰, 𝐢𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫...𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞...
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