Second Chance

Chapter 3

I take that as a sign that he is through conversing. I grab some night time clothes and go to my bathroom. I turn the shower on, get in, and let the water rush over me. Soon I can feel tears falling down my cheeks. That vision. His future. Part of it was so dark. Sad. Depressing. I have been trying to steer clear of anything too dark, but I guess I have to see it in my line of work. The images of the sword making its final strike. His last breath. Thor's immense sadness. I can hardly bare it. But what am I to do? Do I tell someone what I saw? No one on my team would really care, they see him as a villain. He practically destroyed Manhattan. He has given me no reason to care, but why do I? Is it because I saw the brighter side? Deep down, I truly believe everyone deserves a second chance. I know that if I wasn't given a second chance, I might not be where I am today. I'd be somewhere much darker. But what if he doesn't even want a second chance? What if he doesn't want help? I brush the thought aside and get outta the shower. I get dressed and take this alone time to clean my mask. The mask looks to be simple, but really the design is very intricate. Three paracord lies lace up the part on the back of my head. The design is a sleek black runner material equipped with an electronic defense system. If someone tries to take it off, one of six painful scenarios happen to their hands. Laser shock, needles, torching, etc. And if that doesn't stop someone, there is a DNA unlocking system that can only be accessed by both of my thumb prints being pressed to the sides of my temple, just right above my ears. And it's waterproof! The only time I take my mask off is when I shower, with the door locked, or when I am living my life without the mask. The life that only few know about, but at the same time the whole world knows who I am. The mask keeps my other life safe, while it also allows me to save lives. I look in the mirror once more. Taking in my facial features before putting the mask back on. Tan skin, hazel eyes, and a small brown birth mark at the ridge if my hairline. The mask only covers from underneath my eyes and down, but it is enough that so far, no one has even made a connection. Not even the Avengers know who I am. I lace up my mask, and lock it before heading out of the bathroom. I hang my mission suit in my closet. I check my phone, answering all missed text messages before finally crawling into bed.

"Do you ever take off the mask?" Loki asks while looking up at the ceiling.

"When I am not here yes."

"Do they know who you are?"

"No. No one knows. And I like it that way." And with that I snap my fingers, shutting off the lights. I cocoon myself into my blankets and start to drift off. The last thing I remember thinking was, do I really like being so secretive..
I wake up to a strange pounding sound. I roll over, noticing that the sun is just now peaking over the ground, and I check the time. 6:30 am. Great. I only slept for six hours. I look around and everything is quiet. Loki is asleep, and slightly snoring. I go to my closet, throw on a pair of jeans, a simple red shirt and a leather half jacket. I throw my hair up in a ponytail, adjusting my mask accordingly, and I quietly exit the room. Not wanting to wake Loki yet knowing good and well he would make a comment about it. I look around and there is no one outside of the room. And there it is again, that odd pounding. I head down the hallway and there is nothing to be seen. I hear it again, coming from the next hallway. I turn the corner, but again, nothing. I go a little further to the entrance of the training areas. The sound is getting louder. I look through several windows. Target practice, Bruce and Tony's lab, Wanda's observing room (don't ask), and then I find the noise. The last room. The workout room. Steve is in there, hitting a punching bag. Sweat pouring down his face, hand trembling after every punch, and you can see the bags under his eyes. It's easy to see he hasn't slept. Steve is a simple yet complicated fellow. He is very kind, and sweet, yet he also has this side of him that you don't wanna mess with. He is very mission oriented, he always fights for justice, and he is always there to lend a hand. I step inside the room. I close the door quietly as to not startle him from his fist-flying trance. He makes one final punch, sending the bag clear across the room. He stands there, breathing hard, and I clear my throat to get his attention.

"Good morning. Well it is for me. But you obviously haven't slept." He looks over at me and starts taking the tape off of his hands.

"Why are you up?"

"Why don't you ask the presently deceased punching bag?" He chuckles.

"Sorry for waking you." He starts to walk passed me, but I stop him.

"Steve, what's going on?"

"I'm just having trouble clearing my head." He tries to leave it at that, but I grab his arm.

"You're not getting off that easy soldier." I smile at him. "Look, I know there is no way I'm gonna get you to go to bed, but would you like to accompany me to the lounge for some coffee?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you there. Just need to change." He smiles.

"No hurry. See you there." I nudge him as I leave the room.