Vengeance [Avengers Fanfiction]

[Chapter 17]

[A/N] Sorry for the slightly late update! My weekend has been busier than I expected. :/ I promise that I'll really start to kick the plot off soon, I know you guys are getting bored. If you spot any typos or grammar mistakes, make sure to tell me. Well, onto chapter 17!
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[Quinn]

    I stepped out of the shower and put a clean pair of black skinny jeans on, accompanied by another one of my gray hoodies and my leather jacket. My dagger belt was on under my jacket, and I had all of my usual weapons tucked away and hidden in various places in my jacket and clothes. I'll spare you the details.

    Steam hung heavily in the air of the tiny bathroom, making it warm and humid. I glanced up, seeing my blurry reflection in the fog coated mirror. Slowly raising my hand, I wiped the steam from the mirror, my fingers gliding over the smooth, cool glass.

    What I saw wasn't very surprising. Dark, heavy circles hung under my eyes, which were slightly sunken. My cheeks were faintly hollow, and my skin was extremely pale. I sighed. My health was failing. The strain on my body from my broken soul was starting to take a toll on me physically.

    Holding out my palm, it ignited with silver energy that danced and ghosted across my skin, lightly twining through my fingertips. Then, the light flickered. It was so small that no one would be able to tell if they weren't carefully observing it, but I knew what I was looking for.

    A few months ago, I had been healthy. Well, as healthy as I could get considering I was locked in a basement for a year and had yet to gather my full strength. Then, I noticed little flickers in my energy. Then came the pain. It was infrequent at first, usually only little flashes of pain. A little bit after, it turned into dragging seconds of agony. After that, my health had started to rapidly decline. Now, it was a small, constant reminder of what was happening, that my time was running out. The pain was always there, pushed to the back of my mind where I could almost forget about it. Almost. Two weeks ago, the moments of pure anguish started.

    By my calculations, I didn't have much time left. A month, at most. That's why I decided to stay and cooperate with S.H.I.E.L.D, knowing that my time was running out and I was so close to killing my father, to causing the down fall of the League and claiming my vengeance.

    Sensing someone approaching my door, I walked out of the bathroom and into the main room. There was a soft, almost timid, knock on my door. "Hello? Quinn?" The voice of Captain America called. "It's time that we get going."

    My heart jumped into my throat when I heard it was him. Wait, what was that? I was probably just nervous. I mean, who knows what would happen if Fury found out about my real identity and the rest of my powers. Quinn, stop being so jumpy around these people. I chastised myself. Get in, get what you need from them, and get out. That's the plan.

    Quickly braiding my hair back, I pulled on my combat boots and flipped my hood up again, not wanting to raise anymore suspicions if someone happened to notice my failing health.

    I opened the door by pressing a small button beside it, and the sleek, chrome doors slid open.

    Steve stood there, in a casual outfit of jeans and a blue and white plaid shirt. His eyes flickered to my hood.

    "Uh, it's time to go so we can get to the weaponry." he explained, already turning to leave.

    I was thankful he didn't mention my hood, not in the mood to ignore questions I didn't want to answer.

    We strode briskly down the hallways, neither of us attempting to make any conversation, which was fine by me. Finally, we reached what was assumedly the weaponry, yet another one of S.H.I.E.L.D's large rooms full of dangerous and sharp toys of all kinds.

    The room was huge, with a shooting range off to one side and rows upon rows of weapons laying on shelves neatly lined against the concrete walls. Blades, bows, guns, and weapons of all kinds glinted in the harsh, fluorescent lighting, giving the room a nice, yellowish glow. All in all, the room gave you a nice, warm, fuzzy feeling. Not.

    The rest of the team was already gathered, along with Coulson and Lucius, who were conversing pleasantly. When Steve and I entered the room, Tony glanced at me and saw that I had my hood up.

    "Hey, Tinkerbell, why are you wearing your hood again? I know you like to maintain the dark-and-creepy persona, but you might want to tone it down a little bit before you're mistaken for the Grim Reaper."

    Annoyed, I took it off and cocked my eyebrows. "Better?" I asked, a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone.

    "Yup. Sorry, didn't mean to ruffle your feathers." He smirked.

    Steve, Bruce, Clint and Natasha all rolled their eyes. Once everyone settled down, Coulson turned to the room to address everyone.

    "Today, you all will be testing the weapon prototypes made by Mr. Fox, Dr. Banner, and Stark. Except for Cap, who already has his shield, Quinn, who has her daggers and god-knows-what else," Coulson deadpanned, shooting me a look. "And also Natasha, who will be assisting Quinn in finding an appropriate outfit to wear to the mission. Cap, another agent will be helping you."

    I wasn't too happy about the fact that I would be working with Romanoff but kept my face carefully blank, casually looking over to see that Romanoff felt the same as I did but was also keeping it hidden.

    She gave Coulson a quick nod and motioned to the door, implying that I was to come with her.

    "Follow me." The redhead demanded, already stalking out of the room. Grumbling mentally at the prospect of being ordered around, I followed her down the hallway until we reached a room a few floors up filled with women's dresses of all the sizes, colors, and styles you could possibly imagine.

    The room was well lit and had wall to wall clothing racks filled with expensive material, ranging from silk to velvet and tulle. A small, black curtained changing room was off to the side. A tall mirror stood beside it.

    "I've been on lots of these missions before." Natasha stated, already looking through the racks of gowns. She quickly looked at me, mentally calculated my size, and went back to browsing. "I actually met Tony on a mission. I was posing as his new personal assistant." She smirked.

    "How did he react when he discovered you were an assassin?" I inquired casually, leaning against a wall.

    "Let's just say he still can't tell when I'm acting." The agent replied. "Now. For your disguise you'll get a pair of contacts that change your eye color to green, so I'm thinking of a dress that will match your eyes. We can't have it extremely extravagant though, so as to not draw any extra attention. Any ideas?"

    "Something with long sleeves?" I realized that if I was going to have to wear a dress, I was going to need to cover up the scars that trailed and crisscrossed my entire body, especially my arms. Nothing says 'not normal' like not even an inch of your body not being covered in pure white, slightly raised scars that labeled you as an immediate freakshow the second anyone saw them.

    Natasha didn't comment, just nodded and strode around the room gathering a variety of dresses, all in different shades of green, and stacked them in her arms as she walked. Then, she hung the pile of gowns on an empty silver rack outside of the dressing room.

    "We'll start here. Once we get your dress, we'll move on to shoes, then clutches and accessories, then makeup and hair." she stated.

    Seeing my slightly horrified face, she chuckled. "We have a lot more to do. The dress is just the beginning."

    My eyes lingered on the mountain of gowns she had lined up for me to try. I had the feeling she was going to make me try on all of them at least twice, if not three times.

    This was going to take forever.