Tortured Genius (A Marvel Fanfiction: Reader Insert)

Chapter 18: The Art of the Compromise

Unfortunately, now was not the time to exchange sob stories, and now was definitely not the time to get held up.

You were already behind.

So, saluting and clicking your heels, you grinned wide, hiding everything else behind the smile. "You can't hold all this crap in," you imagined Theyel saying, once, Mr. Fizzles giving you that blank stare. You snorted. "Watch me." "Sorry, Coulson." Came your voice. "I know you want to catch up and so do I, honestly I do. But I hate to break it to you that I've become a rather busy person."

"(Your name)," he started, his own smile deteriorating with each second yours materialized, but you hushed him.

"I've got a bank to rob."

***

One thing to note about being an ice shooting, blue veined, pale faced, white haired figure in your twenties wearing mostly grey (okay, all grey), was that everything you'd ever done and would do in the future was bloody conspicuous.

Like walking into a bank, for example.

Not your idea, obviously, as yours would've been top of the line and precise. Nope.

This was Wade's idea.

"Rob the bank, he said. It'll be fun, he said," you made a face, scrunching up your nose and pressing your hand to your ear as inconspicuously as you possibly could. "Well it's a bloody carnival in here, buddy. I love being bait. My favorite thing. Haven't been almost dead multiple times, no, definitely not."

"D'you want Peter Parker's help or not, you frozen pack of sass? The Avengers want you, S.H.I.E.L.D. wants you. You're dead in the water if you don't call in all your favors. What did you say the chessboard was looking like on Loki's side again? Did I mention that Hydra is very salty about their missing shard? You don't happen to, oh, you know, have that literally on you, do you? Demons Run definitely doesn't care about that at all, am I right?"

You frowned, but he was right. "Touché."

Analyzing the interior decor with the bodies inside it, you absently rubbed your shoulder where a scar had appeared, light blue glowing around the edges, becoming lost in thought.

Which is, of course, where you'd been pierced through with the shard and your powers enhanced.

And try as though you might, you couldn't understand it's purpose. What was it doing here? Loki's scepter had been a neato toy, yeah, but that was over, long gone. There'd been one and only one. The shard was a fraction of the real power. Whoever had the rest was sitting on quite the pretty penny, not to mention the fact that, well, they were bound to figure out it's strength eventually.

Your shoulder slammed into another figure, both of you stumbling, resisting gravity for balance.

Something inside your scar and yourself practically screamed in pain and your mouth opened, a gaping emptiness of surprise and shock. Turning, you gazed into the face of the man with a cap and not yet shoulder length black hair and your eyes swiveled to his arm covered by a tan leather jacket.

A clang. Faint, but there nonetheless.

You heard it, he heard it.