Vengeance. Loki

Chapter 22

Ugh why can't I just not do dumb things. Here is another one putting up with me :)

Chapter 22: the thirst for kills

I checked into a hotel across the street from the infamous Avengers Tower, the place I used to call home. Wait, what was I thinking? My mind was a fog, memories slipping through my fingers like sand. I shook off the confusion and glanced out the window of my hotel room, watching tiny figures move about in the Avengers Tower windows. Disgusting. I felt a surge of resentment for those who had kept me away from my true home.

"Hail Hydra," I muttered to myself, my voice low and determined. I double-checked the file, making sure every detail was etched into my memory.

Hours later, I sat in a dimly lit coffee shop down the street, the aroma of brewing coffee filling the air. Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the ground, sending tremors through the street. This was it – my chance. I sprinted back to the hotel, swiftly changing into my Hydra uniform, a sinister remix of its original design with red coloring and silver accents.

As I approached the chaos, the Avengers wrapping up their battle, I walked around the corner, daggers drawn from their sheaths. The blades glimmered in the sunlight, a deadly dance awaiting its cue. My boots echoed on the hot concrete ground, each step a heartbeat building anticipation.

"Wisty," Tony Stark said, confusion etched on his face. Anger surged within me. Why did he speak to me like a friend, like someone I should know?

Without hesitation, I rammed into him, knocking him to the ground. With bare hands, I tore open his helmet, my fists raining down on him until he succumbed to unconsciousness.

"Wisty, what are you doing?" Clint yelled, his voice filled with disbelief. I conjured a dark purple shadow between my fists, hurling it at the archer. He dodged, urgently calling for backup.

"Avengers, I found Wisty, but... she isn't acting normal. I need backup!"

I sprinted at Clint, daggers raised. A quick exchange, his bow clashing with my blade, and I overpowered him. Boots slammed against the ground behind me. Shoving Clint to the ground, I kicked his head, rendering him unconscious, resisting the urge for a more painful end.

I spun to face Steve, dodging his shield attack. Catching it, my palms glowed with a dark purple energy as I shot it toward him. He barely caught it, a tear in his armor staining it with blood. A wicked smile played on my lips.

"Wisty, what has gotten into you?" he gasped, breathless.

"I don't know you like a friend, Captain America. Stop treating me as such," I grumbled.

My short sword emerged, striking him over the head. Rain began to pour on the streets of NYC, the battle coming to a haunting pause. Sheathed, I tried to walked away, raindrops dancing on the blades of my daggers, senses alert. The grip of my rope dart reassured me, promising control. In the distance, the city hummed with life, unaware of the shadows that clashed within its heart.

But mear seconds later Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, emerged from the mist like a specter. His metal arm glinted ominously, and his gaze locked onto mine with a predatory focus. As he lunged, I sidestepped with the grace of a dancer, the razor-sharp daggers in my hands meeting the cold, unyielding surface of his prosthetic limb.

The night was shattered by Natasha Romanoff's sudden appearance, her red hair a beacon of danger. The Black Widow moved with feline grace, a deadly dance partner in this symphony of combat. The twirl of my rope dart cut through the air, a serpentine extension of my will, deflecting Widow's Bite and creating a fleeting barrier.

The trio moved in harmony, a chaotic ballet of strikes and counterstrikes. Bucky's relentless aggression clashed with Natasha's calculated finesse, and my rope dart wove a dangerous web between them. Rain-soaked pavements mirrored the intensity of our struggle, each step a calculated risk.

As the rain intensified, I seized the opportunity to slip away. With a swift movement, I twirled my rope dart, creating a diversion. The daggers in my hands became a blur. Then, like a shadow in the night, I bolted towards an alleyway.

The echoing footsteps of pursuit faded into the distance as I navigated the labyrinth of alleys. My breath came in measured intervals as I melted into the darkness, leaving Bucky Barnes and Black Widow behind. The alley swallowed me whole, and I disappeared from their sight, leaving only the sound of rain to mark my passing.

I had gotten away, I had to return to hydra knowing that I would be punished for my incomplete mission.