Bree Phoenix || An Avengers Fanfiction ✔

Chapter 2

You're coming to an end-

When I woke up, I opened my eyes to see the same room in the same chair, only I was tied to it this time. Along with being cuffed, my ankles were tied against the chair's legs and my torso to the back. Okay, this must be illegal. Before I could take in my situation, the same man with the eye patch had walked in, taking a seat at the table, he placed multiple files down. Spacing them out in a line before he spoke to me. Like always, I kept my head and away from his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, his voice not sounding genuine. I rolled my eyes as I kept to myself. I furrowed my brows down towards the files. I was more than furious at this point. These people are holding me hostage for no good reason.

"Don't talk much, I see," I ignored his comment, beginning to feel irate, I pulled against the rope. The replacement cuffs metal were digging again into my skin, probably making my wrist bleed. I pulled against them just like I did early and POP. I broke another one of their cuffs. The pop from the chain caught the guys glared at his attention. I gazed up at him as I met his shocked eye. I tried to overlook it. Bringing my arms around, I folded them over my chest. The man flinched before noticing I wasn't doing any harm.

"Impressive," He began as I kept my eyes on him. They softened as I examined his form. Bald with an eye patch. I knew I'd seen him before. I only stared at him as he did the same. Maybe he was observing my whole self. Who I am, what I was from my looks.

I'll admit, this was awkward, even for me. He was just watching me as I looked anywhere else but him. I tried not to show emotion but damn I was uncomfortable.

I looked back to the sound of him clearing his throat as he picked up one of the files.

"So from what I heard from earlier, you weren't familiar with the name, Amanda Rose, correct?" His voice comes out with a value feeling, telling me he's not in the mood for doing this. For dealing with me. Slowly nodding, he picked up another file, discarding the last one.

"Does Daisy Dawson ring any bells?" I shake my head, no.

"How about Dakota Michaels," Again, I shake my head. He picks up another file.

"What about Anya Phoenix?" Then, my heart stopped at the name and he saw the hidden emotions behind my eyes.

"Does that sound familiar to you?" His voice echoes in and out of my ears. I haven't heard that name in years. Out of desperation, I reached my hand out, causing him to flinch back. I motioned that I wanted the file. I watch as he hesitates but eventually gives it to me. And I soon opened it to see the face of my mother, Anya Phoenix, age 32, deceased.

My breathing hitched and the man looked at me with curiosity. Deceased? No. No, no, no, no. What? No. She can't be. How? How did she-

Cause of death: Overdose on Opioid.

I could feel my heart quicken as I started getting hot and nauseous. I brought my hand up to fan myself yet I didn't work right away. I struggled against the rope, pulling forward as I began to break under the pressure.

I heard the man's voice again as my breathing became louder and quicker.

"Hey, calm down," but that didn't help at all.

With a sudden irrational fear, the fire appeared on the tops of my arms, running down to the rope. Burning it into ash, I'm free shortly after. I stand up from my still holding the file as I go through it. In the corner of my eye, I see the man take caution, jumping back as I get up and back up towards the exit door. I walked to the farthest corner of the room, crouching down and sitting on the ground, I flipped through the pages. Reading after on each page.