024. the statue of liberty

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❝ makes you wanna
run and hide ❞

❝ makes you wannarun and hide ❞

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024. the statue of liberty

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓. It didn’t ask for permission, didn’t second-guess itself — it simply consumed. Spark by spark, flame by flame, it moved with unrelenting purpose, devouring everything in its path.

Ingrid was no different. Patience wasn’t just a foreign concept to her; it was a nuisance. Stillness felt like shackles, binding her, stifling her. Like fire, she thrived on action, on movement. The idea of waiting, of doing nothing, set her nerves on edge, a relentless itch beneath her skin.

And yet, here she was, forced to pace the cramped lab of Midtown High, waiting for a signal from Peter, all to grab some mystical artifact and continue doing nothing. The oppressive silence in the room made her chest tight, her fingers twitching with the urge to move, to act, to do something.

Her boots thudded against the tiled floor in a steady rhythm as she paced, the sound filling the suffocating quiet. Each step matched her breath, an attempt to stave off the growing tension coiling inside her. It wasn’t working.

Ned and MJ weren’t helping. They were uncharacteristically quiet, their usual banter absent. MJ leaned against a desk, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but focused. Ned, meanwhile, sat in a swivel chair, nervously fiddling with the sling ring like it might combust in his hands.

The silence felt heavy, unnatural, like the calm before a storm. Ingrid let out another long, weary sigh, her breath fogging up in the cool, sterile air of the lab. She shot a glare at Ned’s hands, as if his fidgeting was to blame for her growing frustration.

“Ned, could you not?” she snapped, her voice sharper than intended.

He froze, holding the sling ring in mid-air like a child caught red-handed. “Sorry,” he muttered, though his fingers resumed their restless movements almost immediately.

Ingrid gritted her teeth and resumed pacing, her boots echoing louder now, a steady beat against the rising tension. The unspoken weight of what lay on the other side of the mission gnawed at her, though she refused to acknowledge it. If she did — if she let herself think about Peter, about the battle raging wherever he was — she might lose focus entirely.

The faint buzz of a portal opening broke through her thoughts like a spark igniting dry kindling. Her head snapped up, heart pounding as a glowing circle of light bloomed in front of Ned. He blinked at it in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. Even after successfully opening a few portals, the shock of his own abilities hadn’t worn off.

MJ straightened beside him, her stoic mask cracking just enough to reveal a small, relieved smile. The tension in the room seemed to lift for a fleeting moment, like a breath held too long finally exhaled.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑, avengers²Where stories live. Discover now