Mirror ∞ Marvel ∞ bk. 1

Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Paige looked the main man right in the eyes. He was a burly white guy, muscular, tatted all over. She liked tattoos. She wanted one. But his were ugly, and had ugly meanings.

"Get out of here, witch," he ordered her angrily. "We know how you've been attacking our other groups. We're ready."

She didn't respond at first. Her right hand was in her pocket, ready to press play on her music whenever she decided the time was right. Instead she cocked her head. "Why do you think I'm a witch?"

"You've got unnatural powers, chica," said another man beside the first to his right. "We know you've been blowing up our weapons caches."

Paige smiled softly. "Don't call me chica, please."

"Is bitch a better term?" bit back the first man. "Rhymes with what you are."

"Clever," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Listen. I'm here to put a stop to your little games. I know you know I'm here to do that. So let's get started." She pressed the 'Play' button on her music app. Her left earbud started playing "Say Amen" by Panic! at the Disco. She smiled.

"Fine with us, chica," chirped the second man. "We're prepared."

She saw them pull their guns and immediately her arms went up to protect her face. A blast of energy pulsed from her, knocking them to the ground. Paige gasped for breath. Concentrating again, she sent a burst of flames from her outstretched arms at the first three men to start getting off the ground. They shrieked.

"-Oh! It's saturday night-"

To the beat of the song, she fired shot after shot of fire and ice at the gang members. A bullet grazed her arm and she glared in the direction of the man with the gun. She stalked towards him furiously.

"-swear to god I am never gonna repent-"

She thrust out her arm and a shadowy smoke shot forth from it. It strangled the man until he fell to his knees, and from there, died on the ground. With a quick turn, Paige dodged a punch. She grabbed the man's face and heated it until he fell, dead, his skin burned unrecognizably to the ground.

"-I pray for the wicked on the weekend-"

As she tangled with the main guy longer than she wanted too, she heard a gun go off and spun around to find the "chica" guy fall dead to the ground, a bullet in his head. Paige glanced around in surprise. In her distraction, her foe knocked her to the ground. She groaned as her head hit the pavement. It a moment of pure instinct, she raised her hands to shield her face. A blast of golden light shot at the man as he brought his knife down on her. He screamed.

By now, bystanders had started gathering. Paige shook with anger as she saw their cellphones out filming her. But moments later all the lights on the street blew out and everyone's phones died, including hers. The music stopped. She glanced around in confusion again. That wasn't her.

In the cellphone and light debacle, she made her get away. She twisted the shadows around her to reflect light, creating a mirror of sorts to shield her. Paige ran as fast as she could. Who the hell had interrupted her fight?

Paige groaned as she saw blood on her sweatshirt. She ditched it in a bush, burning it. She still had an hour to ride the Metro back to her hideout near the National Mall. With a quick smile at the Metro police, she hopped on board and made her getaway.

As she sat in the mostly empty train car, she pulled out her cellphone. Dead. Smoking, actually. It was like the insides had been fried. She groaned audibly and lay back with eyes half closed. Just her luck. She had finally gotten all the music she wanted downloaded on that thing. Now she had to steal a new one and start from scratch.

Still, the satisfaction of having shut down the last branch of the Brentwood gang gave her a good deal of enjoyment. Enough to make her less upset for the time being. She loved being able to get her anger out on the gangs.

When she reached her stop at last, Paige tumbled from the car and quietly walked down the National Mall. She reached the reflecting pool and watched it for a bit. It was nice to be able to see what few stars made an appearance in D.C. in that water.

Clint, for his part, had also taken the Metro as far from Brentwood as he could. He had no interest in dealing with local police. His phone had been fried as well after he used the localized EMP device to shut down the recordings of his target. Fortunately he had a second one back at his apartment.

When he finally reached the apartment complex at ten o'clock that night, he raced up to Steve's apartment and knocked on the door. To his surprise, the super soldier was still awake. "I was waiting to hear how it went. Figured you'd text, not make a house call though."

Clint frowned and showed him his dead phone. "Had to use an EMP device to stop her from getting filmed."

As Steve let him inside, he raised an eyebrow. "What exactly was she doing?"

"Fighting MS-13," muttered Clint as he threw himself onto Steve's couch. "Killing MS-13 more accurately."

"What?" Steve handed Clint a beer, and the man thanked him. "So you mean she's some kind of vigilante?"

Clint shook his head. He put the beer on the nearby side table and put his face in his hands. "She has real power. I've not seen destruction like that in a long time." He shook his head. "I don't know, Steve. She's dangerous."

"Everyone Shield deals with is dangerous," Steve reminded him. "Aren't we all on Shield's threat list?"

Clint snorted. "Yeah. But Me and Nat can't shoot fire from our hands."

"Why don't you talk to her?" Steve ventured a minute later. "Accelerate the time table."

With a nod, he agreed. "She knows someone is watching her now. I had to take a guy out to protect her."

"So she's not been trained very well," Steve proposed.

Clint shook his head. "Like the intel says, she fights based on instinct. She's reactionary. Definitely not working for anyone otherwise she'd not be as reckless as she is." He took another drink of his beer. "I think I will talk to her tomorrow. Make her an offer."

He went back to his own apartment not long after. He set up his new phone for a bit and texted Natasha about recent developments. To his frustration, the tracking device had been disabled, whether by the EMP of something else, he didn't know. He just had to hope she would stick to her routine the next day.

He tried to sleep, unsuccessfully, for hours. Finally he'd had enough. Pulling on sweatpants and a purple sweatshirt he climbed the fire escape to the roof and stood there, looking down at the road below. Cars drove past endlessly.

"What's it like to have your mind expanded, Agent Barton?"

He froze, hand on his gun in his pocket. As the memory of Loki passed, he rubbed his forehead. He really was a mess these days. He sighed.

Clint took the picture from his back pocket of Paige Wilson. He looked at the picture closely, as he had done many times. His target certainly had spunk. Coulson probably would've been rooting for her, if he was honest with himself. To be fair, Clint himself was starting to root for her. While her extreme measures to kill MS-13 were unorthodox and probably immoral, she had spunk.

After an hour out in the cold, legs dangling from the side of the building, he finally felt tired enough to head back to sleep. When his head hit the pillow, he passed out in exhaustion, and it was only the alarm he had set that jerked him from slumber the next morning.