Tortured Genius (A Marvel Fanfiction: Reader Insert)

Chapter 15: Had Way Too Many Drinks

"I'm afraid you won't be getting one."

Looking to your right, you saw a figure in the shadows. You couldn't quite make out who it was, but the voice was definitely male. "Yeah," you said, slowly shrugging. "That's usually how it goes. And who might you be?"

They chuckled. Their hand, in mere seconds, flashed over their shoulder and an arrow was suddenly nocked at their black compound bow. "(Your name), you have failed this city."

It was your turn to chuckle. "Oh ho. Playing vigilante, are we, Oliver Queen?"

"No. That would be you. And thanks to your service, we now know it works. If you survive this, feel free to track us down." You opened your mouth to reply, but the arrow sang out and your comment-to-be was cut short by your scream as the flesh-tearing point sank into your skin: on your left shoulder above the wound.

"Alright, honestly," you wheezed, wishing with all your being that you could take it out as you watched dark blood seep from the wound. With a gargled cough, you felt more dripping down your chin. "That was rude."

The figure said nothing and retreated to the shadows farther down the hillside. So many strange people . . . Loki was definitely involved somehow. He might have been that archer too, pretending to be the Hood. But since when did he start archery practice? And gosh that arrow felt painfully real.

That's when you heard a sound that chilled your soul to the bone. What blood you had left ran cold, and your pale, bloodied hands shook in fear. Yes, you were afraid.

Because down the track, only moments away . . .
Was the sound of a train.

Flashing into action, you went back to work on the chains on your hands for a third time. They couldn't be power proof.

They couldn't be.

In a snap, the left restraint fell away; you furiously struck the next one and it too opened and you had your freedom. Sitting up, you attempted to stand and run when you moaned and shook your head. "No, no, no, no! I'm so out of it! How could I forget?" The bindings on your legs stared you right in the face. You hadn't been attacking them at all. They most certainly wouldn't release you with ease. It would take minutes, at least.

The train honked its horn, rushing closer every second.

"I don't have minutes," you growled, smashing the one on your right leg in vain. Your shoulder throbbed, your head ached. Your eyes wanted to close, your chest heaved in pain. You'd come back from a lot of things. But this?

You were most certainly going to die.

As the haunting reality hit home, you quit struggling. Behind you, almost as if in another world, you heard the train try to stop on its brakes; the screeches reached your ears. They sounded like the shriek of a banshee, or the reaper coming for your life. Hum. Not much of a life left to come for, really.

Closer and closer it came. More honking, more screeching.

You waited for the impact, cringing inside.

Maybe it would be like the movies, where the hero closed their eyes and everything was just a dream. Maybe you'd be saved in the last few seconds, and all would be well. Maybe the impact would never come.