1| Silver & Gold [Pietro M.] ✔

03. Old & New Friends

"You know what? Nevermind, just...come on. I've got places to be." There's another long pause between us as I fight with whether or not I should run for it. But considering all variables, it's more likely I'm seen as HYDRA right now and Stark won't bat a lash as he ends my life if I were to try and run. So I make the smart choice and allow myself to be escorted from the building onto the waiting Avengers jet outside the main building. I just can't shake the feeling of being watched on our way out.

As I approach the awaiting jet, I'm tempted to jump over the castle wall. I do NOT want to get into another flying deathtrap this soon after the last. And that was what? Literally an hour or two ago? Honestly, what am I doing with my life? I was trained to be a highly skilled infiltrator with the ability to slip in and out of a highly surveyed area without so much as a sneeze. Yet here I am. Getting on board a jet filled with the whole Avengers team. I must be severely out of practice.

"Uh, Tony, that's not the enhanced girl." Steven Rogers. The Captain America. Iced Americano. America's OG Dairy Queen Blizzard here in the flesh. Not sure if I should be offended by his statement or not.

"What do you mean this isn't the enhanced girl? Look at her eyes." Self-made inventor Tony Stark scoffs while closing the ramp behind us, effectively shutting us in. "JARVIS, take us home." The billionaire vacates his position behind me to take point at the head of the aircraft. Guess he figures I'm not going anywhere surrounded by this group. That or now the Captain is taking charge since he's coming very, very close.

I back up a few steps until met with a chilly metal behind me. I'm forced to look up into the patriotic eagle eyes of America's collective Husband MaterialTM. The skepticism vanishes with a blink as he takes in the one abnormality which immediately gives me away as someone who is enhanced — my eyes, the gateway to my soul and abilities. A dazzling pale gold which rivals the sun in all of its brilliance. "Who are you?" He asks with his deep authoritative voice. I, however, am too starstruck to actually answer. Now I'm stuck in an anxious stupor staring into the eyes of a man who I looked up to when I was trying to mold myself into a good person.

"Come on Cap, give the kid some room. She's freaked out." I can't say I saw the one and only Hawkeye leaping to my defense like this. For all he knows, I'm a HYDRA operative. Anyways, I always thought of him as the angsty-broody one who hides away in the shadowy rafters like a shady secret government agency... Then again, he may be totally doped up on morphine considering he's laid out on a gurney with a gaping wound on his side. Ouch.

"JARVIS, tell me what you can." Tony requests from the pilot's capsule as Mr. America backs off and goes to speak with Stark. I'm afraid to say something...but I always thought that prisoners are supposed to be handcuffed. Or restrained in some way. Not that I'm going to complain. But this just seems like poor planning. What if I was a dangerous criminal with a hunger for revenge? I mean, I don't know. I'm just getting that vibe from everybody watching me.

In an attempt to maintain some sort of tense peace, I move to the center of the aircraft so I'm fully visible. The Widow, ever the loyal friend, meets me halfway to Barton with a scowl and crossed arms. I stare right back as I hold my ground. "You need to cover the wound," I tell her flatly before my eyes flicker over to Clint. "Something sterile. Petroleum jelly, gauze, primapore."

"Why should we trust you?" Dr. Bruce Banner. The man, the myth, the legend, the extremely scary Veggie Giant. I must've glossed over him since he'd been hiding away in one of the wings.

"You shouldn't. But you should trust basic first aid unless your friend wants to catch a nasty infection. The air can be a cesspool for infectious disease, you know." I shoot him a wink before turning to lift a brow at the fiery Russian. "Do what you want with that information." I can sense her hesitancy to turn her back on me, but my words must carry enough weight for her to turn and tend to Clint's wound. I take a good look around the jet. This looks much less safe than a commercial aircraft so I quickly find the nearest seat and buckle in. Thor happens to be sitting a seat away from me. "So how's Asgard this time of year?" I offer a side-long grin in an attempt to strike up a casual conversation. The dark look of suspicion lifts from his face. He brightens up like a ray of sunshine, but before I can get the low-down on Asgard we're interrupted.