Behind the mask [Discontinued]

Chapter 7

By the time the weekend had come, Kahira had somehow managed to tell the whole compound about Clint's little secret. He didn't know how, no that was a lie, he knew exactly how. She was Tony's daughter. Maybe not by blood but she was him alright. In every other way. Like father, like daughter.

The accident in the lab however had remained a secret. It was the one thing Kahira was able to keep a secret. Or rather willing to. Especially from her dad. It wasn't like it was hard. She'd barely seen him since she'd got home from school on Monday night. Between her being out and him being at work, they'd missed each other. But now it was the weekend and neither of them had an excuse to avoid the other.

And so, Kahira found herself within the training quarters. The one place her dad hardly ever came. Sure, he visited on a rare occasion when he wanted to add some new tech or check she hadn't poked her eye out on one of Nat's weapons. But he was the infamous Tony Stark. He didn't need to train. So it was a good job she needed to.

Placing her finger against the cold screen of the training room, Kahira pulled at the brand new bow and arrow that sat upon the edge of the room. As she pulled it off it's hook, she cradled the smooth black metal between her fingertips as though it were some precious metal. Although it kind of was. Her dad had somehow managed to find a small part of vibranium that his father had managed to keep. So he'd made Kahira a bow. One she intended to one day use outside of the compound.

Not going to happen.

Kahira rolls her eyes at the voice that rings in her head, it's thick sokovian accent one that was far too familiar to her for its speaker or rather enchanter to keep hidden. Her eyes glance over her shoulder, up the large white staircase, and through the glass windows where two red eyes glow.

Might want to be careful who's head you're getting into Wanda. You're supposed to be on the run.

The pair of red eyes curve upward at the corners, Wanda's face becoming visible within the shadows of the compound. Her frame was small compared to the large window and her hair was messy. What used to be glowy skin was now pale, the usual rosy int she had on her cheeks faded from the lack of sleep she'd had over the past few months.

Ever since Steve Rogers had broken Wanda out of the raft, she hadn't had one solid night of sleep. Maybe it was her consciousness, or the fact that she had to keep moving every two minutes. Or maybe it was that she was missing Vision and the rest of her family.

And you're supposed to be taking it carefully. I guess we're both breaking the rules.

A smirk tugs at the corners of Kahira's lips. Both she and Wanda knew neither of them was ever very good at following rules. It was in their nature to do what they thought was best. Even if it meant breaking the law from time to time.

Be careful, Wanda.

You too, Kahira.

Just as quickly as Wanda's glowing eyes had appeared, they fade back away into the shadows leaving Kahira alone once again. When a ping comes from behind her and the training room doors slide open, Kahira spins on her heel, grabs a quiver of arrows, and then heads inside the dark room.

Closing her eyes, Kahira takes a deeply composing breath whilst she grips her polished boy tighter in her left hand and holds it in front of her torso. With her right hand, she reaches into her quiver that sits upon her right shoulder, her thumb and index finger grasping the narrow metal end of the arrow. She pulls the arrow over her head and places it perfectly within the curves of the bow. Brushing the bowstring beside her face, Kahira pulls it back and turns on her heel to aim it upward. Any minute now.

Glowing orange lights begin to spark around her, mingling together to form the silhouette of a man. At first, the silhouette remains frozen in place but as Kahira spins to face it, the man charges for her at an incredible speed. Silently, Kahira narrows her eyes on the target, evaluating her range, distance, target, and the breeze that somehow radiated into the room. Tony must have installed new tech to mimic the crosswinds outside. It was about time.