Tili Tili Bom (An Avengers fanfic)

Chapter nine

I'm awoken the next morning by a screaming, scarlet noise. My eyes fly open and I cover my ears as well as close my eyes so that the disorienting colored fog will lessen before I grit my teeth and screech for Jarvis to stop. The bright red haze immediately vanishes with the noise. A moment later, Jarvis chimes overhead. "I'm sorry miss. I needed to wake you up, and you weren't in the bed so I couldn't vibrate you awake. All Avengers are to report to the training room at seven forty-five for sparring bouts. Your shower is ready when you are." I squirmed out from under the bed and yawned. "What time is it?" After a moment, I added, "Is anyone else up?" I picked myself up off the floor, the bloody red noise still ringing in my ears as Jarvis responds. "I'll wake them up in about fifteen minutes, so they should be out of their rooms in thirty minutes. It's about six thirty." I look down at myself, astonished to see I'm wearing the same clothes as last night. You're losing your edge, Charlotte. I hastily tear off the sweat-stained sundress and walk into the crystalline bathroom, the ringing finally dissolved.

Jarvis continues to speak as I wash my hair with the same sweet soap I used yesterday. I notice that the various bars of scented body wash have vanished, replaced by a single packaged bar of scentless Dove brand soap, also the type I used yesterday. "Miss, if you'd like, I can replace the alarm with a different method of waking you up. Perhaps a vibrational blanket?" I pause for a moment before nodding. "That would be much better." A few minutes later I step out to a foggy wasteland as Jarvis turns on the fan. He makes a sound like an indrawn breath, a sign of hesitation. I roll my eyes as I step into the adjoining closet. "Jarvis, if there's something you need to ask me, just do it." As I pull out a pair of dark blue jeggings, debating proper sparring gear, his voice comes through the speaker. "Is there a particular reason you acted so badly to the alarm clock? I know it might be bad for people with PTSD, but you don't seem to have the symptoms." I slip on a pair of black leggings as I begin to respond. "I have synesthesia . My brain associates sounds with color, so when I hear a sound, I see tangible colors in the air around me. The alarm clock made a haze of bright red, and it was loud, so the haze was very thick and..." I struggle with my explanation for a moment. "I didn't react well to it." I pull on a tight, white t-shirt with a lavender chevron pattern emblazoned across my stomach. I grab a brown ponytail holder from a basket of hair ties and put my hair into a high ponytail, leaving myself barefoot as I walk out of the closet. I stop in front of the bedroom door to collect my sundress and put it into a corner. I'll do something with you later.

I saunter to the elevator as Jarvis chimes overhead. "Would you like me to tell the others? It may help them to be prepared for noisy missions. The kitchen's on floor three," he answers to my unspoken question. "Is there anything you can't eat? Allergies and whatnot?" I sigh, my annoyance as tangible as the gauzy cream elevator music. "Just pineapple. I'll eat anything; I'm not picky. And yes, you can tell them." It's not like they'll be around long enough to use the information. A few moments later, I step into the bright kitchen to find a small plastic container on the counter, condensation still rolling off of its sides. I pick it up to find an odd blend of dried oats, sliced strawberries, jam, and an unidentifiable white gel, with a plastic spoon lying next to it. I pop off the lid and take a bite, my senses overwhelmed with sweet fruit and bitter gel. I savor it as I grab the spoon off the counter, bringing it out of the kitchen. Someone calls from upstairs. "Ptitsa!" I... I flinch and take a breath. This is the second time this has happened since I've arrived. I need to get back more than ever; if this keeps up, I could be in real danger during fights. I thank Jarvis hastily for the wonderful breakfast and throw out the cup before hopping back into the elevator and asking directions to the training room.

It's beautiful.

There's a treadmill in the corner, and a small enclosed shooting range. Racks of weapons adorn the steely walls, ranging from swords and spears to paint grenades and an AK-47, repurposed, or at least I hope. The room is mostly taken up by a wrestling stage with shiny, pitch-black mats, surrounded by benches like an arena. In the corner closest to me is a brown punching bag, which, to my unhappiness, the Captain is whaling on, white bandages wrapped around his hands. I slowly begin backing out of the room as Jarvis chimes softly. I'll get you for this when HYDRA comes. As I crouch down, he looks up. "Yes, Jarvis? Does Tony want me to go do something else? I know I haven't eaten yet, but he knows I'm not.." Jarvis interrupts. "You're fine. I actually need to give you a message about miss Charlotte." I begin waddling backwards as he continues. You little... "She told me this morning that she reacts poorly to loud noises because of her synesthesia. I'm just giving a PSA so everyone knows for missions." The Captain steps back and begins unwrapping his hands, depositing the linen-ish material in a trashcan by the weapons rack. "I'll keep that in mind. What time is it, by the way?" I'm finally outside the door, so I stand up and press myself to a wall, still within earshot of my enemy. Jarvis replies quickly, with, "It's about seven o'clock, but I'm afraid you won't have the room to yourself much longer. Miss Charlotte is almost here." Maybe you aren't such a little devil-bird after all, Jarvis.

I straighten off of the wall and, holding myself high, march into the training room. The Captain looks up and nods as I enter. I wave back, trying to look a little overwhelmed. He'll underestimate me, and that'll be on him. I step into the shooting range and select a proffered gun and pair of earbuds. I lose myself in the destruction of the targets, the recoil a familiar friend, the blasts creating bright pink fireworks that fade in the air. I'm finally startled out of my violence-induced trance by a tap on the glass behind me. I swing around, stifling the urge to raise my gun as I see the doctor standing in a purple button-down and a pair of khakis. Don't you ever change clothes? He points behind him to the ring, where Romanoff and Barton are sizing each other up. I hastily pull out the earbuds and put my gun back on the shelf before tossing my hair and stepping out.

The fight between Barton and Romanoff is a delicate dance, designed for maximum destruction, but a thing of beauty nevertheless. I'm awestruck by how well they respond to each other, and it reminds me of how Racks and I used to act during combat sessions. The bout finally ends with Barton, in a headlock, yielding to Romanoff. As they descend from the arena, Stark stands up from his seat. I look around to see everyone's eyes on me. Der'mo der'mo der'mo. I stand, albeit nervously, and rush up the steps to the stage. What's his game? A buzzer sounds and I rush at Stark, my tactic at this point to survive long enough to get his strategy and to then use it against him. I begin by dodging behind him as something coats his hand in a red metal.

What in the world...?

The Captain stands up immediately as the red metal begins shooting pulses of blue light at my head. I duck and weave, unable to do anything as the blasts continue. Stark has a look on his face of barely-masked rage, and as a pulse shoots by me, I realize that the Captain is climbing the stairs to our arena. As I realize this, a pulse sings by my head, just touching my ear. I suck in a breath through my teeth, my ear ringing with pain. Stark's face turns white for a moment before he continues firing. I duck to the side before running up and ramming into his stomach. I'm not very heavy, so it doesn't do much, but it gives me an opportunity to squeeze his hips, throwing him off balance. The Captain freezes on the stairs as I grab Stark's hand and pull off the glove and put it on. Stark jolts to a stop as I aim it at his head and grit my teeth against the pain.

"Like I said," I whisper so only Stark can hear me, "sweet little girl with a gun."

The bout is over in five minutes.

I throw the glove on the ground and watch as it recedes back to a red bracelet before descending the stairs, clutching my burnt ear. The Captain follows me as I race out of the training room. "Charlotte!" Der'mo. "Charlotte, are you alright?" I spin around and run backwards so I can talk to the Captain.  "I'm fine! I'm fine! I just need some bandages!" As he stops, it takes me a moment to realize I've reverted to Russian. I repeat myself in English as I race into the elevator. Once the doors close, I slump to the floor and put my head in my bloody hands as Jarvis chimes. "Miss, I'm bringing you to the infirmary. Don't move, and whatever you do, don't go into shock." I put my head in my knees and begin to hum Tili Tili Bom, the pain in my ear growing worse by the second.

The elevator doors ding open as Jarvis directs me to a doctors table to sit on. As I finally notice how bloody my hands are, two robotic arms descend from the ceiling with a roll of gauze and a tube of antiseptic. After a few minutes, they retract to the ceiling and I wearily walk back into the elevator. "How many more days until my chosen favor comes into effect?" I ask Jarvis. He responds immediately, with, "Only two, miss. Hang in there."

Two days seem like an eternity of rain to wait for a ray of sun.

Too long for something that you can't quite believe is worth it.

But I'll wait.

I'm a patient girl.