PANDORA'S BOX ▷ s.rogers [2]

(19) I FEEL LIKE A MONSTER

THE RIDE WAS LONG AND SILENT.

Eris didn't trust herself to speak. Sometimes, Ophelia would throw a quip or statement over and it was all she could do to ignore it. She tried to pretend she wasn't inside the Avenger's quinjet, riding off to some secret base with her enemy.

She tried to pretend Ophelia couldn't get bored of her any moment. Couldn't turn her into something dark and mindless.

Instead, she tried to focus on who she was doing this for. Sam, Natasha. Her team, her friends. Those who had placed their trust in her.

Steve.

Blue eyes, so innocent and trusting.

But instead, she saw the pain in his face when she defied his orders and demanded to be the one to infiltrate the Ten Rings. She heard the door close as he left.

She felt the hope that had died in her chest when he hadn't come back and he hadn't been waiting for her.

You're not going to lose me, Spangles. I promise.

The words tasted bitter on her tongue now. Some kind of venom that she'd allowed to consume her words at the time, lost in the moment. The taste of his lips against hers.

You're not going to lose me either, Winky.

The quinjet hit a bump. She grunted and her eyes flew back open, toward where Ophelia sat across from her, green eyes dancing. It was like she knew what was going on in her mind.

"You could've stayed with them, Pandora."

"I'm not going to put my friends at risk."

"And you think helping me build up the Ten Rings won't do exactly that? You'd be lucky if it takes them longer than a few months to track us down again."

Eris clenched her jaw and didn't answer. If she had anything to do with it, it would take a lot less than that.

"But by that time, I have high hopes you'll remember what side you were created to fight for," Ophelia continued. "Not that of the heroes, Pandora. People like us weren't created to be on the side of the angles."

"I didn't have a choice in how I was created," Eris bit out. Something flickered in the dark-haired woman's eyes and for a moment, her smirk faded. But only a moment. Then it was back and more venomous than ever.

"But what would you be without your past? Dead, most likely. Or old. Powerless, weak."

Ophelia wasn't wrong. But being old meant she would have lived a long, free life. Being dead meant would have she never been created a monster.

"You don't ever regret it?" She asked. "Our past?"

"I like the control. The power."

"The nightmares?"