WINTER SOLDIER
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"Who the hell is [y/n]?"
When those words left my mouth, the boy looked as if I had done something terrible. I wouldn't exactly be surprised by that, because I have done many terrible things, but this was different.
He seemed heartbroken.
"Do you really not remember?" He mumbled, "don't you recognize me?"
"I don't waste my time on remembering a face," I frowned, holding out my hand, "now give me that projector."
"Why?"
"Because it contains footage of me, and I have to destroy it."
Anyone else was supposed to cower in fear just by seeing me, but this boy just stood there. Instead of giving me what I wanted, he shoved the projector into his pocket and took a step closer to me.
"I can't let you take it," he said, "and I can't let you leave."
"You idiot!" Loki yelled into my speaker, "I told you to leave!"
"Oh, shut up," I growled back at the god, "I need to destroy that evidence."
The boy wrinkled his nose, "who are you talking to?"
"Fine, take the evidence and leave. Quickly!"
"Stand down," I spat out, dropping the tesseract case next to me, "and give me that projector."
Unfortunately, as soon as the case hit the ground, it popped open, and a glowing, blue cube came rolling out. Both of us were silent for a second, until the boy spoke.
"Is that the tesseract?" He gasped, "are you stealing the tesseract?"
"None of your damn business," I said, rolling my eyes.
Grunting, I grabbed my knife and began to run towards the boy. As soon as I leaped towards him, he ducked down, and I went tumbling to the ground. His reflexes were surprisingly quick. I lunged again, but missed.
"You don't have to fight me," he said, "we're friends, [y/n]."
"Stop calling me that!"
"This isn't you, you're under their control."
"Shut up!"
"You're my friend, listen to me!"
"I don't have any friends," I grunted, swinging an uppercut towards him.
Instead of punching him, he grabbed my metal arm, twisting it, and pulling me closer to him. I collided into his chest, our eyes completely level. His comfort in touching me, made me want to scream. I hated being touched, more-so by a stranger who pretended to know me.
"I'm Peter," he begged, his voice shaky, "try to remember me, please."
"I don't remember anyone," I frowned.
Catching him off guard, I kneed him in the stomach, kicking him onto the ground. He scrambled onto his feet, holding out his palms towards me.
"I'm not going to fight you," he stated, "I won't."
"Then stop resisting."
Snatching up an object from the table next to me, I threw it towards him, watching it crash right into his face. He fell to the ground, choking on his own voice. Kneeling over him, I whipped out my knife, holding it to his throat.
"Where did you find that footage of me," I interrogated, "spit it out."
"In your room," he responded softly, "you took the videos yourself."
"Liar!"
"I'm not lying, I would never lie to you."
"Stop pretending that you know me!"
"Good," Loki sneered, "now kill him, and get out of there."
As I lifted my knife into the air, I caught a glimpse of fear in the boy's eyes. His lips quivering, he put his hand against my chest, and let a tear roll down his cheek.
"I'm not going to fight you," he said softly, "you're my friend."
I didn't understand any of it. He kept calling me his friend, and telling me he didn't want to fight. He was weak around me, and I should have used that to my advantage.
He whispered again, "you're my friend."
"And you're nothing to me," I exhaled, bringing my knife down towards him.
STOP.
Someone yelled at me, my eyes blinded by a flash of light.
I made a promise to myself never to kill again.
That voice... it was mine.
What the hell? That wasn't even one of my thoughts. It was like a voice was echoing through my brain, except it was my voice. lodged deep into my subconscious.
I blinked, suddenly coming back to my senses. My dagger was centimeters away from the boy's chest, but I didn't touch him. I stopped before I could do what I had to.
Never kill again.
There was the voice again.
"I can't kill him," I mumbled under my breath, "I can't kill."
Slipping from my fingers, the knife toppled onto the ground, a clatter echoing around the room. I stared at the boy's hazel eyes, shocked that I couldn't bring myself to do what I had done so many times before.
Who was he?
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I'm so, so, sorry."
Before I could figure out what he meant, I felt a blow to my head, and I fell over. The last thing I could see was the blurry figure of him hovering over me.
Then I blacked out.