𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏'𝒔 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚 ✪ 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

07| i've got no fight left

WARNING: This chapter may contain explicit circumstances and language that are meant for readers who are 18 or older. There are also suicidal mentions and triggers in this chapter. Please read at your own discretion.

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FOREWORD: Thank you all for being so supportive and patient on this journey of mine. This story has been with me for a long time and it remains one of my favorites to write.

Tell me what got you into Marvel? Were you a comic book fan first or a MCU fan first? What age were you?

Also, sorry guys for the delay! I was trying to write more than one chapter before I uploaded this one so I could get ahead finally. I have two chapters written now ahead so that should help me with the consistency of the uploads!

xx

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"GET UP DEVINA! We've been through this countless times. You block your opponent's stride. You predict their movements, and counteract with your own. Come on! These are the basics!" His voice had grown to irritate me more than anything else had. He gave me a huff before he took a few steps back, light on his feet while he readied himself for the next attack. My eyes lazily fell to the floor. I could feel his intense gaze weighing down on me - egging me on as if to challenge me more than he already had.

"How will you ever face him? In this state?" He grilled me, backing me a few feet before he swung at me.

"The man that took everything from you?" He yelled, as I angrily tried to block his stride and land an upper cut. Unfortunately, my emotions had been getting the best of me. T easily swiped me off my feet, watching disappointedly as I fell hard against the ground.

"What's on your mind? Because it's not training," The sound of his strong voice echoed throughout the facility, practically shaking the walls as he bounced on his feet. He was wearing his Black Panther suit for the first time since we began training sessions, and admittedly, he was kicking my ass - but I was off my game, yet he wasn't holding back in the slightest. I was off on every account of the word. I wasn't in the mood for this. That man had broken me. Ripped me apart from the inside out, and T expected me to want to confront him calmly? To be able to set my emotions aside? When all I craved was to repay him by giving him the same pain he had given me. Not to mention all the damage T'Challa was doing to me.

He had scratched me down my leg with his claws, body slammed me against the hard mats on the floor, and even managed to propel me across the room with the energy absorbing material of his suit. With my body aching and now bleeding, I struggled to gather my bearings. The exhaustion that hit me felt like a freight train had plummeted into me, knocking me down so hard that I doubted I'd ever be okay again.

"You're one to talk," I huffed at him, trying desperately to catch my breath while the taste of blood tainted my mouth. I may have soldier serum flowing through my veins, as well as a long list of fighting skills curtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. but I was more than exhausted. I had trained and been tested on 24/7. In addition to the new conditioning of my body, I was emotionally drained. I was worried till I was sick about my husband every single day of the week. I rarely found the time or energy to worry about myself, and when I did, it was somewhere in the back of my mind as one of the least of my worries. Lastly, I had this heart aching feeling constantly banging at my chest out of a combination of fear and anger that the man responsible was in Wakandian custody, and I was unable to visit him. Forgive me if my personal capabilities weren't my top priority at the moment, I fought the harsh urge to speak aloud.