Vengeance [Avengers Fanfiction]

[Chapter 16]

[Steve Rogers]

    Fury left us to our own devices for the rest of the morning, saying that he would brief the rest of us about the gala later. Tony and Bruce were in the lab with Lucius, inventing new weapons with the vibranium and sharing ideas while they worked. Romanoff and Barton went about their duties, doing whatever high security clearance agents of S.H.I.E.L.D did. Probably nothing I want to know about.

    After gathering her weapons, the Phantom accompanied Thor and I to the mess hall to eat breakfast. To my relief, Quinn had put her hood back on, sparing me from her piercing, silver gaze.

    We strode down to the mess hall without talking, the pressing silence upon us only broken by agents nodding, saluting, or greeting me respectfully. Sometimes I hated the red, white, and blue uniform I was wearing now. Just because I was Captain America didn't make me any different or cause me to do anything more important than all of the agents on the rest of this base. I knew many of them had done more important things than me, but weren't recognized for them to the public for the reasons of secrecy.

    Thor seemed to be deep in thought about something as we walked, so I didn't bother him. By the look on his face, I could tell that his pained thoughts had wandered to those of his brother.

    We arrived at the mess hall then continued to get a plate of food and sat at an empty table in the corner. I noticed that Quinn hadn't gotten much to eat again, just some scrambled eggs, toast, and a glass of water, but I didn't mention it.

    Thor and I made small talk, mostly about Asgard and what had happened in the time since the Battle of New York, as it had come to be known. I told him about the rebuilding the city had started and the progress that had been made. The ground zero of the battle had yet to get back to where it was, but it was getting there. Shops had been reopened and repaired, and visitors had started to trickle in, many from other parts of the country who wanted to see where the battle had taken place. New York had started to get back on its feet, and I was proud to see the resilience in which the residents had to be able to cope with the shock of the event.

    "Excuse me, Thor?" A male agent in his late thirties wearing the standard S.H.I.E.L.D. suit asked the god, face going slightly paler as Thor turned to him and the agent saw his bulking figure. I had to admit, even I was a bit intimidated by the big guy when we had first met.

    "Yes?" Thor boomed in response.

    "You have been requested by Agent Coulson to discuss some of your friends on earth, Miss Foster and Mr. Selvig, I believe?"

    Thor nodded. "I shall see you later, Captain Rogers." He then followed the agent down the hallway, towering a good foot and a half over the poor, nervous man.

    "Ah, look who it is. Just the people I was looking for." Said a voice from behind me. I turned to see Vincent Crowe, who was smiling tightly at Quinn and I.

    "What the hell do you want, Crowe?" Quinn snapped coldly. I could tell that she and the Agent weren't big buddies, and I didn't blame her. I wasn't particularly fond of him either, something about him rubbed me the wrong way.

    Crowe smoothly slid into the seat in front of us that Thor had just occupied, his smile looking more forced than before.

    "So, I heard that the mysterious, elusive Phantom showed her face and revealed a little secret. Or, so a little birdy told me." He smirked, his fingers smoothly tapping the table. A few agents near us stopped their conversation, their curiosity piqued by Crowe's words.

    So, he had heard about Quinn's wings. Of course he had, he was pretty high in command and was working on finding out who the Phantom really was by order of Fury.

    "Really? I heard that if you don't leave in the next ten seconds, I may not be able to restrain myself from slitting your throat." Quinn replied evenly, not missing a beat.

    Amused, a small smile spread across my face.

    Vincent's smile faded and his jaw clenched, his eyes briefly flickering to the daggers hanging from Quinn's sides. "Fury wanted you both to know that he'll brief you about the little party you'll be attending before you head out to hunt demons tonight." He stood to leave then turned back, the sly smirk returning.

    "I heard that you two will be having lots of fun at the party." he then left.

    I really didn't like that man. Slightly peeved, I stood and turned to Quinn.

    "If you want, we can go get changed and then I can show you the gym. There's lots of equipment we can use."

    She nodded, also rising from her chair and throwing away her trash. "Good idea. For some reason, I'm in the mood to punch something."

    That would make two of us.

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[Quinn]

    I grunted as I threw my body weight into the punch, hearing the satisfying slap of skin against the punching bag and the soft rattling of the chain the bag was hanging from. Keeping my arms close to my body, I twisted around and kicked the bag, causing it to swing.

    Since I couldn't let my soul energy out for the fear of S.H.I.E.L.D locking me up for testing, this was the next best thing to using my energy. Well, close to the next best thing. When I want to blow off steam or when I can't sleep because of nightmares, I usually go out and find a street fight or a cage fight to vent some anger. Yeah, I know that it isn't the ideal anger management solution, but it's better than accidentally wiping out a building if I can't control my energy.

    I had taken my jacket and hoodie off but left on my dagger belt, leaving me in a long sleeved gray t-shirt as I trained. My hair was pulled back in an unruly ponytail, a few strands of ebony hair sticking to my face as sweat started to bead my forehead.

    Captain America stood about fifteen feet away, watching me. He had taken a break from his own punching bag a few minutes ago and now stood transfixed, observing me as I pounded the red punching bag in front of me.

    I paused, taking a few breaths to cool myself down. I glanced up to see him looking at me.

    "What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Steve blinked, realizing that I had directed the question to him. "I was just thinking that when you punch, you turn your body a little bit to the left. If you kept yourself straight, you could put more power behind your punch." He explained, looking slightly sheepish.

    He strode over and stood in front of the bag as I backed up a little, giving him room.

    "Like this."

    He hit the bag with his right fist, making it swing backwards and the chain holding it to the ceiling groan in protest.

    "See?" He inquired, catching the bag as it moved back towards him.

    I nodded, then did as he had shown me and hit it, my knuckles sore from punching it so many times before. As I drew my fist back to my side, I noticed the improvement in my punch.

    "Thanks." I said while unwrapping the white cloth wound around my hands that protected my fists. I made sure not to make eye contact with him, not wanting to fall into them like I had last time.

    "Anytime." He replied, also avoiding my gaze and looking slightly bashful.

    At that moment Barton strode into the room, glancing around the room until he spotted us.

    "Fury wants us to all meet in the weaponry in an hour and a half to look at the new weapons Fox designed and tell us about the mission." He informed us, then took in our sweaty states. "You may want to use that time to take a shower." He smirked, then left the room.

    Steve nodded, taking off his boxing gloves and putting them back.

    "Maybe we should take his advice." He chuckled.

    We made our way to our rooms, walking through a sea of busy agents who didn't even spare us more than a glance, even though I had put my hoodie back on but left the hood down.

    As we climbed onto the thankfully empty elevator and the doors slid shut, burning pain suddenly sliced through me, radiating from my core.

    Blood slowly dripped onto a concrete floor, running down my pale skin and staining it red. Cold, harsh laughter rang through my ears. I laid on a shiny, metal surgical table, the chrome surface icy against my skin as I struggled, the itchy, elastic straps holding me down, restraining me.

    "Hey, are you alright?"

    Steve's voice snapped me out of the flashback, pulling me back to the present. I stared straight ahead, ignoring the deep blue eyes filled with concern. It was then that I realized I was gripping the handle of one of my daggers so tightly my knuckles were white.

    Slowly, I unwound my fingers and hung my hand by my side and resisted the urge to curl it into a fist, watching my movements in the slightly distorted reflection on the shiny, chrome door of the elevator.

    I was spared from answering as the soft chime of the ding! that warned of the elevator door's opening rang through the tiny room.

    Moving quickly, I strode down the hall to my room, Steve trying to keep up from behind me.

    "Quinn!" He called as I shut the door, effectively blocking him from speaking to me.

    His soft footsteps halted outside of my room, hesitated for a moment to leave, then faded away as he entered his own room.

    I sighed, sliding down the door and onto the floor, my head in my hands as the pain started to fade.

    That, the pain, was my soul ripping itself in two, an unexpected result of my father's experimentation with me. He had torn away a piece of my soul in order to stitch on the part of the raven's soul that had been attached to mine. Then, he had sewn the part of my soul onto his in an attempt to become immortal. He had the insane notion that if he died, he could still live by using the part of my soul that he glued to his.

    What he didn't expect was that by doing so, my soul would attempt to reattach itself to the part it was missing, causing my soul to slowly separate itself from its other half, the soul of the raven.

    He also didn't expect that my soul would still be connected to its missing half by a thin strand of energy that bound them, meaning that if I died, he died, and vice versa. Too bad that since my soul was destroying itself, I was dying. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

    As if I didn't already have enough problems.