A vigilante and a superhero what could go wrong. Secrets are revealed and trust is tested, Tony Stark and Y/n L/n find themselves on a collision course, unsure of where it will take them, after all anything can happen.
I woke up the next morning in my bed. Memories of last night flashed through my head.
I shook my head trying to shake off the empty feeling. Instead turning on the news.
Reruns of my last mission were playing it was the usual, a reporter warning everyone of the act in a very dramatic way.
As I watched the news, I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from the events that had unfolded. It was like I was watching a movie, detached and unaffected. The reporter's voice echoed through my room, describing my actions in vivid detail, painting me as a ruthless criminal.
I sighed heavily, feeling the weight of my actions settling on my shoulders. I knew what I did was wrong, but it was necessary for my survival in this line of work. It's not like I attacked the general public for fun or was killing babies even I had my limits. The empty feeling in my chest only grew, and I wondered if this was what it meant to lose your soul.
I turned off the TV, unable to stomach any more of the news. My mind was clouded, and I couldn't focus on anything.
I got out of bed slowly, feeling a dull ache in my body from the events of the previous night. I took a deep breath and tried to gather my thoughts. As I stood up, I could feel the cold wooden floor beneath my feet. The room was quiet, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the air conditioning.
I stumbled towards the bathroom, my legs feeling weak and unsteady. When I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I was confronted with the physical evidence of what had happened yesterday. My face was pale and my eyes were bloodshot, and I could see the cuts on my skin that needed tending to.
I got into the shower first as the warm water hit my skin, I closed my eyes and let out a sigh of relief. It felt soothing and comforting, almost like a gentle hug. I stood there for a few moments, letting the water run down my body.
As I opened my eyes and looked down, I saw the scars and bruises on my body, some fresh and pink, others old and faded. Each one had a story, a mission behind it but I couldn't complain that was the job, it's what kept the bills paid, food on the table, clothes on my body and a roof over my head.
I reached for the soap, lathering it onto my hands before gently rubbing it over my skin. Shortly after, I got out of the shower and began patching up the most recent marks.
My apartment was small, you'd think with the money I had earned by now that I'd have a decent enough place, but there just weren't enough nice places in new york that accepted cash as rent.
My landlord was a very kind old man, every time I'd meet him for the rent he'd be concerned for my well-being, He'd school me on fighting back against whoever was hurting me, the poor guy thought I was being abused.
I'd always dismiss him trying to come up with some lie about a mugging or fall but the relationship was hollow, he didn't protest too much when I'd asked to pay the rent in cash he was almost grateful as banks weren't really his thing.
I got dressed and made my way to the kitchen to make some breakfast. As I sipped my coffee, I opened up my laptop.
I logged onto the underground forums, it was how I communicated and received orders from clients. These online marketplaces were designed to be anonymous and untraceable, providing me with a secure platform for the operations I took on. I scanned over my next few missions "This shit is just getting more and more dangerous" I whispered to myself.
Did I like what I did? I don't know.
Did I do it anyway? Yes.
Was it the reason I had made it this far? Also yes.
So was I going to complain? Just a little.
"I need to step my game up"
I closed my laptop screen thinking of what I could do to improve the quality of my work.
When you work with more high-profile cases words spreads around within that community. I was now getting more risky work and my fighting skills and guns alone were not cutting it.
I thought back to a mission last week where I was in hand-to-hand combat with someone, I lost my balance and fell onto the floor when a small device was attached to my back.
The control was handled by the man I was fighting, he electrocuted me roughly 15 times in 20 minutes. It was nothing like what it felt to be punched, kicked or slapped.
I had to slice off the device to detach it from my back. I shuddered at the memory feeling at my back to feel the scabbed over cut. I wracked my brain thinking of what I could do to boost my game.
"I've got it"
I need more high-tech equipment and I did not have the brains or resources to build them myself. That's when a dangerous idea began to form in my mind. I could steal the high-tech equipment I needed to complete my work and the only place that came to mind with the best technology was Stark Tower, owned by the infamous Tony Stark.
I knew it was a risky move, but the allure of finally having the tools I needed to succeed was too strong to resist. I began to research the security systems and layout of the building, trying to find any weaknesses I could exploit.
As I delved deeper into my plans, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of my mind but I quickly pushed those doubts aside, telling myself that this was the only way to achieve my dreams.
I took a deep breath, ready to take possibly the biggest risk of my life.
If the world was advancing why can't I.
"Desperation could make you do a lot of things"
♥♥♥
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listened to midnight rain and vigilante shit on repeat whilst writing this 🌃💫
