You don't even remember getting to the tower and you definitely don't remember Bruce Banner plugging you up to the machines, but you do remember one phrase he uttered in your clouded state of mind.
"Y/n, you're dying..."
You also remember the red glow in Wanda's eyes, the way her anger towards the doctor, who she targeted her blame, made you feel, and the sadness in them every time your eyes met.
Another thing you don't remember is leaving the tower, but somehow, you ended up at your father's apartment building in Queens and instead of taking the dingy elevator, you climbed every step to the fourth floor.
You were wearing a pair of jeans, untied sneakers, and a tank top under a hospital gown, but it barely looked like one since it was from the med bay and not some emergency room in Manhattan. Your eyes were red rimmed, and your hair was a mess, you looked like you just crawled out of hell yourself, but you were damn determined to get to the bottom of all this.
You could hear murmurs of voices on the other side of the door when you got there and you recognized your dad's voice, but it sounded like he was talking to a woman.
There was never a warmth that came with your visits like this place used to bring you when your mom was alive, but there was a familiarity to it that had vanished since the last time you had come here only months ago. It was colder than New York had become in the late December days and it was terribly uninviting, so much so, it was almost radiating a warning to stay away.
"Open up, asshole!" You yelled angrily, banging your fist on the door, and the voices ceased the second you did, "I know you're in there!"
You waited exactly ten seconds before you stepped back and lifted your leg to kick the door as hard as you could. A moment before your foot hit the wood, the door swung open, and you stumbled forward a bit.
"Y/n, what're you doing here?" His rough voice croaked out and if it was possible, he looked worse than you did.
His clothes were torn in places, they were dirty, and his face was covered in soot, sweat, and a bit of blood. He looked weak and exhausted like life had come to collect but left him barely standing on his own two feet.
"You dick," You spat, shoving by him, and searching the small apartment frantically for the source of the second voice, but you came up empty, "Where is she!"
"Where is who?"
He tiredly crossed his arms after he shut the door and stood there like you were a minor bother in his day, but if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was almost content with you being there.
"I heard her!" You shouted from his bedroom, ripping the closet doors open, and finding only clothes.
"Who?" He called back and you stormed up to him.
"You know what's going on and you don't even-" You cut yourself off when you noticed a hammer next to his tools and you went over to grab it, "You don't want to tell me?" You chuckled darkly, eyeing the wall you missed that one day you tore the rest down, "Then I'll find her myself."
"Y/n, what're you – what're you doing!" He shouted the last part when you went for the wall.
It was going to take a while, but thankfully, you knew the super downstairs had a sledgehammer, not because you borrowed it without asking before, but because you spotted it in passing.
Stealing is wrong, kids.
You tossed the hammer across the room and pushed by a confused or shocked man, you didn't care which it was, to go down to the bottom floor.
You could hear your heart beating in your ears, your blood felt like it was on fire, and there was a distant chittering coming from your dad's apartment that shot fear right into your chest, but you ignored it all.
"I've lived in fear for too goddamn long," You muttered angrily when you returned and pointed the hammer at him threateningly with wild eyes when he moved closer to take it from you, "If you try to stop me, I swear I'll take this to your head, and I won't stop until the floors are painted in your blood."
He widened his eyes at your words and how you were seething, meaning it all in whatever manic state you were in right now, but in all honesty, you've never been clearer headed.
You could feel you were close to finding the truth, finding out exactly what happened in this apartment that made your mom lose her goddamn mind, and you weren't going to stop, even if it killed you.
You swung it as hard as you could and you kept going, panting heavily and sweating in minutes, but you could taste the truth on the tip of your tongue.
You didn't take in the other side of the wall that would put a hole in the apartment so you could see outside or what was inside it on the floor until the first part was completely down. You felt so invigorated and the adrenaline pumping through your veins gave you an energy you could never match otherwise, but then it was done.
"What is this?" You mumbled, dropping the hammer off to the side and reaching forward to trace the black ash on the wood that gave way to a picture with the tips of your fingers, but your dad didn't answer, so you repeated yourself louder this time, "What the fuck is this?"
"I'm so sorry, Y/n," He choked out and the cock of a gun had you focused, "But you weren't supposed to find her."
"Timeless." You whispered out the same time he pulled the trigger.
And once again, your world went black.
