You can't even look me in the eye
Oh, I can tell, I know you're lyin'
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I woke up at four in the morning from the fact that someone seemed to have ordered me to do this. My eyes automatically opened, even though I really wanted to sleep. It was as if I was watching my actions from some distant point and couldn't understand what was actually happening.
It was incredibly scary to watch how out-of-control hands pulled that same ill-fated black suit made of elastic material onto unruly legs.
It all seemed like a terrible dream from which I am not able to get out.
It was as if my body knew that what it is doing at the moment is the only correct action. The extremities turned cold, hit blood in my head when I took a gun out of a cardboard shoe box and started charging. A sensation of vague deja vu suddenly flooded.
What the hell is happening now?
Before getting out of the tower, I looked at myself in the mirror, so that, as it seemed to me, I was sure that I was fully prepared for something: my eyes were burning with insane horror, in my hair, hastily combed, there was still some kind of yesterday's curls to in the evening, and the skin turned pale.
Yes, I look like a real maniac, if not worse.
Getting out of the Avengers Tower turned out to be a surprisingly easy task. The first time I regret that I am not a criminal. Although, who knows, it is entirely possible that now, while I am not in myself, I will do some things.
Yes, such that Tony Stark with the "Avengers" will not get me out from jail.
If my body turned against me in itself, then it was damn smart action. No one paid attention to the girl in the hoodie with the hood on her head.
Even at such a time (I'm really not joking, it was half-past four in the morning) the people on the streets were enough. Basically, of course, the principal inhabitants of the streets at the moment were homeless people, drug addicts and prostitutes.
Soon after, the primary keepers of New York, the wipers, came to their service. I turned into the alley and slightly increased my pace.
My horror was somewhat feigned than real.
Against my will, everything that happened seemed commonplace and nothing more than another ... task? For some reason, this particular word came to mind when I wanted to characterise my actions.
The underground didn't work right now, and I had to walk about forty minutes, and then with a quick step. Sweat came out from such an active walk on my forehead and back, and I wanted to slow down, but not a single limb obeyed.
Soon the fright was replaced by a thrill at what awaits me when I get to my destination.
What awaits me there?
What should I do?
Ten minutes later it seemed to me that I had come. In the alley between the houses, I found a fire escape and, pushing it in, started quickly sorting through icy extremities — first, second, third and, finally, the fourth floor.
My heart missed a few beats before I opened the window further and got inside.
It was the most common apartment of the average New Yorker. Everything covered the gloom, but it was quite realistic to see a bookcase, a coffee table, a nightstand with a TV on it, a long nap carpet and two single beds against the wall, on which someone was lying.
They attracted the special attention of those who told me to come here, and I got closer.
Should I just rob the poor people? What I saw struck me deeply.
The people who were sleeping peacefully on the beds turned out to be the Maximoff twins. My heart sank for a moment and then started up with a new force — someone who, and they wanted to harm me least of all.
I leaned toward Wanda, who was sleeping peacefully. She seemed so helpless with a messy scythe and such childish, sleepy features. She looked like a porcelain doll.
Her brother was much more interesting for the people who made me come here. Pietro's hair was randomly scattered over the pillow, and from that, it was even more silver. Maximoff seemed so ... fragile.
If I kiss him on the cheek or run my hand over his neck, he will break into a thousand small pieces.
For the first time, the gun seemed so heavy to me. I tried as best I could to lower my hand, but as if someone else was directing a naughty limb and making me aim straight at Pietro's forehead.
I internally shrank, and a tear rolled down my cheek. A shot is about to break out in the head of a man who yesterday as if a boy kissed me at sunset, but I couldn't do anything. Moreover, the trigger will press exactly my hand, which doesn't falter.
"Pietro!" I closed my eyes when Wanda's scream rang out in the ringing silence of the apartment. Pietro's blue eyes opened instantly, and we met each other. I wanted so much to at least whisper "I'm sorry", but my legs themselves carried me to the window.
The people who control me at the moment are not as smart as I thought. It's so stupid to run away from a person with super speed. But I managed to slip out again along the same fire escape to the roof from the startled twins.
But my escape didn't last very long.
When I was about to jump onto another building in front of me was one of Tony's drones, who pointed all his guns at me.
At the same moment, Maximoff was instantly cheered up on the roof, who was looking at me with complete incomprehension.
I myself would like to know what is happening. Suddenly, I came closer to the edge of the roof.
Head spinning, and the beautiful dawn, along with the skyscrapers of New York mixed in one pink porridge. Suddenly, the ground disappeared from under my feet, and I began to fall like a stone.
And once again slipped a barely perceptible feeling of deja vu.
My head cracked madly, and it seemed that several volcanoes began to erupt at once inside me. I was shaking all over and almost nauseous when I found myself tied to a bed in the company of three Avengers, Maria Hill and Pepper. As soon as I widened my eyes, I tried to break free from the shackles, which, naturally, was not crowned with success. There was a complete mess in my head, and I would really like to get an explanation.
"What's going on? I shouldn't be tied to a bed."
Everyone looked at me very strangely.
Wanda supposedly saw in me the culprit of all the world's troubles and problems, and more and more clung to her brother.
Pietro himself looked at me in such a way that he wanted to turn into a pile of ashes right here in the bed. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at me.
Tony's eyes expressed universal condemnation and misunderstanding. It seemed to me, or was there still and...pain?
"Are you still asking?" Stark came closer and seemed about to hold back and spit in my face. "Can you tell whose thing it is?" I focused my eyes on the thing he showed me. Having made some conclusions, I with some doubt held out:
"Well... This is my gun," in the end I was bored that everyone in the room dissected me with a look, and I asked the main question that tormented me: "But what happened, do you want to tell me at least?"
"She still asks," Pietro's tone very offended me, and I even grunted. "You tried to shoot me."
It struck me like thunder.
"The fuck?" I can bet that I first turned pale, then blushed, and then turned pale again. "What are you talking about?"
"Unfortunately, this is so," with these words Maria brought on the screen recordings from surveillance cameras. They could clearly see how I made my way past Tony's security systems with the help of my access cards, and then climbed the fire escape into the twins' apartment. It was impossible not to recognize me even in the hood.
"But I ... I don't remember that!" I frowned and looked at everyone with prayer in my eyes. Pepper shook her head wearily. I was also ashamed in front of her. As if she is my mother, and now she scolded me for another offense.
"Do not lie!" Tony suddenly switched to a scream and hit his fist on the table. I shuddered and squinted my eyes. But I really didn't do anything like that! "You don't leave us a choice, Y/n. Wanda, read her mind!"
The witch, with a sigh, began to come closer to me.
"Nein!" I curled, as if already in bed. It seemed to me, or did Wanda really whisper something like "I'm sorry"? Soon I realised that all my actions were absolutely useless and resigned. "I am sorry that you will feel the same pain as me." My whisper disappeared into Wanda's blood-reddish flashes.