Number Zero; The Witch - Diego Hargreeves x OC *ON HOLD*

Number 2

"Really? A vase?" Diego asked me, breaking the eye contact.

"Why not? Adds more scars to your face" I told him grabbing the in mid flight vase, the red glow disappearing from both the glass and my hands. "You shouldn't sneak up on me" I warned him.

"Maybe I just wanted to see if you still have it" He commented.

"Still have what?" I asked confused.

"The Witch inside of you". Reginald had called me The Witch. He never told me why he called me that, until I asked Pogo. He simply handed me a comic book. A Scarlet Witch comic book. We somewhat shared the same ability. Telekinesis, forcefield and energy blasts, all into one, called Psionic energy. And when I found that out, inside of me felt a little badass.

"Sadly, she isn't going anywhere" I sighed sitting down on the bed. Diego moved, and sat on the bed beside me, but slightly away, giving us a small distance.

"Why are you sad? You hated dad" He commented, confusion in his tone.

"Oh, trust me I did. I guess I am sad because it didn't happen anytime soon...and our childhood got robbed. It took this long for him to kick the bucket" I sighed staring at the photo attached to my vanity. A picture of all of us, standing together, outside a bank wearing our famous masks. That was our child hood, fighting crime. And it's not what I wanted.

"Was being superhero's really that bad?" he asked me.

"Let's put it this way, Diego. I promised myself and my future kids, if I do have any, that I would make sure they have the best damn child hood ever. Nothing like mine. No fighting crime. No limits to when they can play, except bed time...our child hood was full of fighting and rules...he used us for his image" I sighed standing up from the bed, walking over to my vanity, and taking the picture of us off the mirror, admiring it. We may have all been smiling...except for Ben. But inside, I know we all hated it.

"So then why are you here?" Diego got off the bed as he questioned me.

"Why do you think Diego? Have you ever heard of the saying? I can't wait to dance on your grave, or spit on it? It's something like that...anyway. That is why I am here. To dance and spit on daddy dearest's grave" I smiled excitedly, putting the photo down, and heading out of my room. Then I felt a hand clasp around my own hand.

Warmth spreading through my entire body, giving me a fuzzy feeling inside. Diego always managed to do that. Give me warmth. Stopping me in my tracks, I turned to face him. "What, Diego?" I asked him.

"Just...be careful" He warned me, which confused me.

"Be careful? Of what?" I asked.

"The family's reaction to why you are here...I don't...want you to get hurt" He slowly told me.

"Diego...we all hated him...I'll be fine, you have no need to worry about me now" I assured Diego, heading out of my room, after he let go of my wrist.

Heading downstairs and into the main sitting area with the bar, the rest of the gang was here.

"Lexi...wow...you...look" Allison was lost for words. I couldn't help but raised my eyebrow.

"I look what?" I asked my so-called famous sister, who got her career by 'lying'.

"You look...inked" She finally spoke out.

"This is what happens when you are slightly damaged" I added. "When the man who raised you, keeps reminding you every single day, you are nothing without your powers, zero...inking my body and pressing needles through my ears, somehow allowed me to heal" I explained to her.