a little death ➴ ᵏᵃᵗᵉ ᵇⁱˢʰᵒᵖ

𝟸𝟶

➴

Remy's head throbbed. The cold metal of the chair she was bound to pressed into her back, and every muscle in her body ached. She blinked through the pain, trying to focus on her surroundings, but all she could see was darkness, interrupted only by a single beam of light above her.

She could feel the dried blood on her temple from when Hanover's men had ambushed her outside campus— right as she was retrieving some equipment from her dorm. She'd barely seen them coming. And before she could fight back, everything had gone black. Now, here she was.

She was alone. Clint wasn't coming. Kate and Yelena weren't coming. And, judging by the sheer emptiness of the room, he wanted her isolated, weak, and afraid. Effective, to say the least.

"Ramona," Hanover's voice dripped with mockery as he strolled closer, the smell of expensive cologne making her stomach churn. He crouched down to her level, his face inches from hers. "You know, I thought you'd be more prepared for this. But you look... rattled."

Remy bit the inside of her cheek, masking her fear. But she was rattled— more than she wanted to admit. Hanover stood, circling her chair slowly like a predator stalking its prey.

"I overestimated you," He laughed. "You were on TV— nearly took down the great Kingpin. I thought, surely, you'd have a little more fight in you," he said, pausing in his place. "You've been careless— messy."

She tensed. He knew. Somehow, he knew everything— about Clint, Kate, Yelena, all of it.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

Hanover straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced. "Your little band of misfits?"

She kept her mouth shut, but inside, her mind was racing. He knew. Of course, he did. A.I.M. was always watching.

"You're working with Hawkeye, and the Bishop girl." he mused, his eyes gleaming with arrogance. "And yet, for all your scheming, you've still failed."

Remy glared at him, her jaw clenched. "I'm still here."

"Hardly," Hanover smirked. "But that's not why we're having this little heart-to-heart, is it?"

"Uh-huh."

"You have something I want," he said, his voice smooth, confident. "Your mother's research. Hand it over, and maybe I'll be kind enough to let you walk away from all of this."

He thought she had it. The research—the key to her mother's legacy, the thing A.I.M. had been after for years— Hanover still believed she had it in her possession. But the truth was... she didn't.

She met his gaze, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't have it."

Hanover's smile faltered. "Don't play games with me."

Remy shook her head, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them. "I never looked for it."

For a brief moment, the room was silent, as if Hanover himself was trying to process what she'd just said. Then, his face twisted in a mix of confusion and anger.

"You're lying."

"I'm not." Remy's voice cracked. She could feel the weight of her confession settling in her chest. "I didn't want it. I was scared."

Remy's breath hitched as Hanover took a step closer, his face hardening with fury. "Your mother's work is the most valuable thing in the world to people like me. People who understand the power it holds. And you let your fear stand in the way?" He grabbed the back of her chair, forcing her to look up at him. "Do you have any idea what you've cost us? What you've cost yourself?"