Pull | Infinity War

Chapter 18: "Get off the ship. Now."

Now Playing: Coat of Arms: Jonathan Thulin

What do I live for? Can you tell on my face

What my heart beats for do the words that I speak

Show it to the core, does my glow outshine the stars

Can you see my coat of arms?

Iris probably should've thought this through. She'd never controlled anything to this scale, not even close. The biggest thing she'd lifted was a school bus full of kids (don't ask, different story for a different time.) After directing that bus to safety, Iris nearly passed out but managed to make it to her apartment down the road.

That was almost three years ago. The situation she was in currently was much worse, she'd slap herself for her stupidity if she could.

The instant Iris reached and latched onto the ship's gravitational pull, the muscles, tendons, everything in her forearms, biceps, shoulders, even down her back tightened so much they screamed in pain. Iris grit her teeth together from screaming out loud herself. It was like receiving dozens of Charlies Horses at once, all in different places. The breath in her lungs hitched as she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. Sweat broke out on the back of her neck and her forehead. And oh God, it hurt, everything just burned, throbbed.

This. Is. Stupid.

I gathered that much, thanks.

This is entirely your fault, you decided to be the hero and save the day.

I didn't know it would hurt this much.

Nobody noticed her state of pain and concentration until she shifted her kneeling position and hissed.

"Supergirl? You good over there?" It was Tony's voice that spoke first, and the first that acknowledged her state.

Iris tried to answer, she really did, but she knew the moment she'd open her mouth, screams of pain would erupt out of it. So instead of replying to Tony, Iris let him figure out her predicament on his own. "Supergirl?" Now his tone held a certain uneasiness to it, and it caught the attention of everyone else, including Stephen.

He turned his head over his shoulder, looking at her with a questioning gaze. "Iris?" Iris found the strength to grit out a few choice words.

"Not now, Stephen." That had caught his attention. Strange let his hands fall to his sides, turning a full one-eighty to face her, shields still standing.

"Iris?" Panic nudged at the edge of his voice like he was worried she was going to do something heroic (or stupid, whichever way you look at it) again.

Stephen ran to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder, and Iris hissed in pain, biting her tongue a little too hard. Stephen's attempt at comfort had only added to her agony, yes, at this point, she could call it agony. It was like his hand had left a print of fire where it touched her skin. It tore through her shoulder, to her spine, to her arms, to the tips of her fingers.

"Iris, talk to me." If Iris had the strength she used to mutter at Strange before, she'd use it now to roll her eyes in exasperation of the highest level.

I'm clearly in pain, you idiot, she mentally yelled at him, Now is not the best time.

Oh yes, that'll help.

Shut the hell up and help me. 

Peter's voice, laced with curiosity, interrupted Stephen's questioning.