Rise || Marvel

《5》Too Late

《 Tia's POV 》

The building exploded.

It was the loudest noise I had ever heard. It felt like my ears exploded along with the building. I was flung backwards all the way to the footpath from the force of the blast. Screams tore through the air. Bits of rubble were crashing to the concrete.

I lay face-up on the path, blinking slowly in shock. My ears were ringing. My head ached.

I was too late.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Slowly, normal sound was returning to my ears. I could make out the desperate shouts of passing civilians... The wail of emergency vehicle alarms as they sped towards the devastating scene.

A pair of hands grabbed at my arm, dragging my upright. I shook my head in disbelief.

"Are you alright?" A female voice was demanding, tugging at my arm. I allowed myself to be pulled to my feet and rubbed my jacket sleeve across my (now dust-covered) face.

"Hey, can you hear me? Are you alright?" The voice was more urgent now. I turned to face whoever was still gripping my arm. The woman had short-ish blonde hair, and looked inexplicably like Brie Larson.

           
I spat out mouthful of dust. The woman exhaled, and waved for someone over my shoulder.

"We'll get you patched up, don't worry," The Brie Larson woman assured me before turning her attention back to the smoking building with a slight scowl, "And we'll get everyone out of there."

A sudden 'thump thump' or footsteps sounded behind me. When I turned to look, I saw a middle-aged woman was staring at me grimly. She had grey-streaked brown hair and was adorned in what was clearly a medical uniform.

"I..." I couldn't formulate words. I directed my gaze back up at the ruined building despairingly. The Brie Larson look-a-like patted my back comfortingly and nodded to the medical woman.

"Come along now, dearie. You don't seem to have been injured too badly... Just this cut on your arm, but it doesn't look too deep. We're setting up an emergency medical station to treat injuries just near the park over there. Come on," The brown-haired said softly, deliberately steering me towards the cluster of ambulances I could now see just a little down the block. Already, a small crowded had formed around it.

I allowed the ambulance lady to lead me over to the tents, where she sat me down on one of the park benches and extracted a bottle of thick liquid and a small roll of bandages from a pouch on her waist. I turned away as she uncapped the bottle, but winced when she dabbed some of the ointment on my scrape. It stung. The woman quickly and expertly wrapped the bandage around the wound.

"There we go. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go help other patients," The woman said gently. I nodded numbly and leaned back on the bench. The screaming had subsided somewhat. I took a steady breath in, briefly closing my eyes.

If only I had remembered sooner. Dammit...

Upon opening my eyes again, I tilted my head sideways. If I remembered the movie correctly, Natasha and T'Challa should be somewhere nearby. I scanned the area intently. Medical personal were hurrying around, tending to wounded civilians and politicians from the meeting. I couldn't see any bodies covered by a blanket, but there, near the edge of the fray, a familiar man was sitting on a park bench. As I watched, another figure joined him, this time female.

Silently, I pushed myself to my feet and walked slowly over to them. Even from a little distance away, I could see the Wakandan Prince, T'Challa, fiddling with his ring, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened.

As I approached, their conversation filtered into my hearing.

"...could run forever..." T'Challa was saying. Natasha nodded in understanding.

"That sounds very peaceful..." She murmured.

"My father thought so," T'Challa replied. He slipped the ring onto his finger, tone hardening, "I am not my father."

Natasha's eyes suddenly glinted in a warning way, "T'Challa. The Task Force will decide who brings in Barnes."

T'Challa abruptly rose, a new air of determination rippling around him as he looked at the red-haired assassin beside him, "Do not worry, Ms Romanoff. I will kill him myself."

Without waiting for a reply, he strode away from her. Natasha looked like she wanted to say something, but sighed heavily.
With a jolt, I realised T'Challa was walking in my direction. As he passed, he glanced at me.

"I'm..." I swallowed, "I'm sorry for your loss..."

The dark-haired man faltered, regarding me through narrowed eyes. There was a drawn-out silence. He exhaled and nodded. I bowed slightly (because that seemed like the right thing to do) and moved on. I heard the slight crunch of gravel as T'Challa did the same.

Turning my attention back to Natasha, I realised she was now on her feet and in the process of lowering her phone with a pained expression. It took me a moment, but then I remembered that Steve had called her about tracking Bucky.

The assassin pursed her lips, staring at the rubble of the building with a frown. Deciding that it was now or never, I hopped over to stand beside her. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Sighing, Natasha glanced at me.

"You have red eyes."

I have what now?

"Are you serious?" I muttered, "Great. Perfect."

"Your voice... You were the one who called me, weren't you?" Natasha demanded quietly. When I nodded, she motioned to the bench. We sat, me trying to figure out a way to not end up on the assassin's bad list.

"Let's start simple. How did you know about the bomb, and how did you get my phone number?" She asked. Her face was calm and composed, but I could read the subtexts of her tone. One wrong move and I was screwed.

"Um, I saw suspicious movement and stuff earlier... And it was a bomb..." I improvised, deciding that it was probably not the best idea to start ranting about how Natasha and the others were just fictional characters and I was a crazy fangirl.

"Mhm, and my number?" Natasha inquired. I groaned internally. It was quite clear that she did not believe a word I had said. Friggen' heck.

"I got your number from Friday..." I admitted. Well, at least that isn't a lie.

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed, "Friday?"

"Y'know... Friday the AI system?" I said uncomfortably.

"You mean Tony's...?"

"Yep."

"You know Tony?"

"...Yep."

Natasha leaned back in the seat, surveying the emergency vehicles still rushing past, "I guess it's time to give Tony a visit, then."

Tony's instructions of "Don't get into any trouble" suddenly floated lazily back into my brain.

Ha... Yeah, about that...