WAR OF HEARTS ➵ scarletfrost

three.

- CHAPTER THREE -
❝ HOPEFUL ❞

A trickle of sweat dripped from her forehead, and she wiped it away furiously, hands intently clenching the handle of the hammer as her elbow slammed back and forth repeatedly. Her mind was strayed elsewhere, despite her desperate attempts to guide it towards the slabs she was slamming against the windows and doors.

She pierced the wood with her fury unintentionally, soft pants tumbling from her lips as a weakened arm fell to her side, and she stumbled back ever so slightly to prop herself up against the rickety table behind her.

Feeling nausea stir unsettlingly in her stomach, she wiped away beads of sweat from her neck, hanging her head lower as she leant her body wait against the table, the floor beneath her croaking in protest at her movements. Gods, she felt sick, was she going to be sick? Her nerves were firing up, and she could feel her blistered fingers sting as she pressed them against the scratchy wool of her sweater.

Slowly, her heavy breaths soothed into a normal rhythm, but the discomfort did not disperse from her tense frame as she clutched at her clothes, pulling the slightly rough material away from her neck as it began to feel too tight. As if it were restricting her breath. She supposed there were other things restricting her breathing in that moment, though, and it certainly was not her clothes.

"Wanda," a voice tore through the silence, and she turned towards its source, "It's time."

She sentenced him with a curt nod, trailing behind him as they walked to the chosen mission room. Everyone stood scattered around, random appliances strewn haphazardly around the room. Banner stood amidst them all, watching an open brief case intently as it buzzed with sparks of energy, the reflection shining in his hardened eyes.

Wanda caught sight of Pepper leaning against the doorframe, hand cradled gently to her chest as a film of glossy tears shone in her eyes. Frowning, she trapped her lip between her teeth, the taste of metalic blood following soon after.

The woman had half of the suit she had worn during the battle on, the mask down as she stared on longingly. Whilst the avengers with suits and masks were suited up, the rest were to protect themselves behind the scattered furniture in the room.

Wanda decided she'd just set a layer of her own scarlet energy between her and the effects of the stones. Tearing her eyes away from Pepper, her gaze travelled before landing on Clint, whom she made a beeline toward.

He welcomed her with a weak smile, wordelessly stringing an arm around her shoulders as she pressed into his side with a content sigh. Noticing the distant look in his eyes, she gently nudged the man, coaxing him to glance down at her.

"Clint, this is going to work," the false reassurance felt bitter on her tongue as it tumbled out of her lips, desperate to wipe off the crestfallen look on his face. He offered her a languid shrug, and she looked away. He didn't need reassurance, he needed proof, he needed it to work. Well, didn't they all?

Wanda bristled, a hand tucking strands of hair behind her ears before her hands balled into fists at her sides. Bruce cast a final glance around the room, ensuring everyone was in their positions. Wanda cast a shield of red in front of her and Clint, and it sputtered with light sparks of red.

A few of the others raised their masks, ducking behind furniture, heads peeping around the corner. With a nod, Bruce watched as a slither of golden energy wrapped possessively around each stone, slotting them carefully into each compartment in the burnt and worn gauntlet.

Once they were all placed, it vibrated with the intense energy, slithers of coloured energy running down it. Eyes fortifying with steel, he clenched his jaw, a large, green hand slipping into the gauntlet as it adjusted to the size.