Cherry || b.barnes

49 || Safety

When we enter the Quinjet, I'm once again reminded why I don't really enjoy rides in this vehicle. The lighting situation could be better, and although I have improved vision, I see shadows lurking from the dark corners of the metallic casing, nasty creatures stretching their claws forth. It's not exactly that I feared them; it's more of an inconvenience to always be on alarm in a place you should at least half-way be able to relax.

Tony is in the middle of its belly, thick glasses covering his pecan eyes while he melts the gold-titanium alloy of his suit back into shape. Brown hair disheveled, one glance upon him is enough to know his mood isn't exactly one for a toast. He's tensed from head to toe, not in form of defense but of stress, the dirty white tank top he's wearing leaving the strained muscles on his bruised arms uncovered. It smells of hot metal in here, and of something else I can't really place.

Not yet, however. It's faint, but it makes me stop right in the door frame, causing Steven to bump into me from behind and push me another step forwards. Wide-eyed, I glance through the room, trying to find the source of this ebony scent lingering about. Raising my left hand, I point at the others to halt, what they do immediately in my back. The smell of several drops of adrenaline mixes up with the strangeness of things I inhale, me probably having set their defense systems off, too. 

Tony stops in his motions, registering we're here above the noise of his blowtorch. Slowly, he lowers the device, placing it on the table in his front before nodding a greeting into our direction, taking his diving goggle-like glasses of, brushing them to the top of his head.

And that's when I hear a silent shuffle, unrecognizable if it wasn't for my advanced hearing. I have a second in which I push Steven out of instinct back to the stairs leading into the plane, back outside into the bright light, before something comes crashing down on me and drops me to the ground like a domino. 

With something, I mean a body. The body that has this ebony scent sticking onto it like a second skin, just as sweat and dirt. While I fall, all I see is longer, braided blonde hair swinging through the air and someone admittedly strong in a white suit, black, armless jacket pinning me down. Heart beat going from zero to one-hundred and eighty in the matter of a second, I am just able to roll to the side before a pale-skinned fist would've broken my nose. Turning back and putting effort into getting above said person, said girl, I attempt to grab her wrists, but she's faster than I expected. I may instantly recognize she's nothing more than a human, but I must confess I kind of underestimated her. 

But honestly, I couldn't have known. The pattern of her fighting is something that opens up for me, clears up not in the first second with her, but in the second. Catching her fist mid-swing as she goes for my nose again, I fold my legs, get a good position on her lower stomach instantly right past her hip bones – which aren't that easy to find with her thick clothes – and push her up, making her fly through the air and crash into the ceiling above me, leaving a body-shaped bulge in the dark metal. Taking the short time window this leaves me, I'm up on my feet again the second she drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

There's more shuffling and voices behind me now, but I don't have any time to listen to them. Although the young woman is coughing, she's back on her feet again. I have barely time to examine her face; strong jaw, roundly shaped form of her head, average sized nose and plump, rose lips. Eyes the color of a soviet forest, a dark pair of narrowed eyebrows above them which wrinkles in its middle from concentration. Then she's in for it again, trying to land punches.

I block most of them, although the connection from her leather-covered knuckles with my chin and mouth doesn't feel pretty. Landing a few hits myself, I soon have scarlet-dripping hands, the porcelain of her face cracking with smeared streaks of crimson. Just as she ducks, hoping I wouldn't see that coming but surprise, I did, I grab the snake that is her hair and pull her up with it, connecting my knee with her jaw. Stumbling, she shakes her head, but I can't block her immediate elbow strike into my side, making me see stars for just a second.