"MY SISTER MAY NEED POWERS TO KICK YOUR ASS, BUT I CERTAINLY DON'T."
In which a woman who wants nothing more than to protect her sister can't seem to save herself.
[oc x steve rogers]
OR
June has always been the protective sister, maybe...
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June had nearly forgotten how to load and set up a rifle.
It had been years since she used one, (she preferred to never have to again, but here she was.) She loaded the weapon, winced minusculely as the ammunition slid into place.
"Princess?"
Shuri didn't even look up from Vision. "Shuri is fine."
"Right. Do these open?" June gestured to the floor to ceiling windows, covering the entirety of one wall.
The princess looked up for all of two seconds, and then back to the hologram of the Mind Stone. "There's a button on the wall next to the far one."
"Far right?"
"Yes." June nodded and walked over to the far right window panel. Sure enough, directly next to the border of the glass was a series of buttons. June, on a whim, pressed three of them.
In response, the three closest to her opened. Understanding now creeping in, she pressed the first two again (The two nearest returned to the closed position), and pushed two more on the other side.
Wanda watched her the whole time. "You're really planning to help from this far away?"
June shrugged, grabbed the rifle, and flipped the kickstand down. "I'd rather try than do nothing."
"Can you even hit anything from this far away? What if you shoot one of us?"
"I don't miss."
Wanda remained silent, her eyes wandering back to Vision on the table. June spared a glance as well.
His eyes were closed, and his breathing even, but June was pretty sure he wasn't sleeping. Shuri, above him, stared intently at a projection of the stone in Vision's head. Occasionally, when she'd tamped with it, Vision's fingers would twitch. June could tell that Wanda was trying extremely hard not to backseat drive.
She turned back to the open windows, gripping the barrel of the rifle with one hand. June crouched, doing her best to breathe in and out slowly.
Click the safety off? Check. Load the bullet into the chamber? Check. Breathe in, breath out. Look through the scop, find a target. Breathe in, breathe out. Pull the trigger.
Another thing she'd nearly forgotten was the kickback of the weapon. The two handguns weren't terrible, and after getting used to them, she'd learned how to deal with it.
June, however, hadn't fired a rifle of this caliber in years, years, and when the knockback occurred, the butt of the gun rammed right back into her shoulder.
