Cold-Blooded

[]Chapter 7[]

~*~(Astridr's POV)~*~

I could hear the steady beeping of the heart-monitoring machine the second I surfaced. Shockingly sterile ceilings glared down at me, classic rectangular lights warding off the darkness. A snore reached my ear as I took this all in, and my head slowly turned to look from where the noise was coming from.

In the uncomfortable chairs sat a familiar chocolate-haired figure, and that's when the memories of recently passed events hit me- not unlike a train would. My thoughts slowly grew more and more depressing, so I shook myself out of the stupor I'd fallen into and tried to wake Bruce. 

The hazel eyes opened, taking in my sitting form. "You're awake!" he exclaimed and pulled me into a hug. The warmth of his arms was welcomed, and I couldn't help the selfish desire to stay here, with him,  forever.

I buried my face in his chest and listened to the steady thump of his heart. My hands found their way to his head, and I pulled back, hands cupped around his face. I saw the love in his eyes, and on impulse I brought my lips to his. 

He stiffened in surprise, then slowly melted into it, standing and pulling me closer. Even though it'd only been so many days since we'd met, there was a deep attraction and longing neither of us could explain. There were just no words for the natural love growing stronger daily.

Finally we broke apart, and I yanked the needles out of my arms. Doctors immediately rushed in, advising me to put them back in, but I waved them off with a lazy flick of my hand. Steadily, I rose from the bed. My balance wavered, but Bruce caught me around the waist and helped me find my footing.

The doctors gave me a disapproving look and left the room, and I had a feeling that they'd be talking about me behind my back at their doctor meetings. I'm assuming they have them, right? Get together and have coffee and gossip about patients?

"Where are we headed?" Banner asked, arm still around my waist to keep me steady. 

"My room. I need to change out of this hospital attire," I informed him, and the two of us oddly hobbled off towards my temporary residence. One question nagged me as we walked, however. Who put me in this damn dress?

~*~

I stood in some grey sweat pants and a black tank top, now fully balanced and on my own two feet. A punching bag hung in front of me, beaten red surface seeming to say, "Beat me. Get out your stress. Sing. Dance. Hum. Talk. Whisper. Let it out."

The training room was empty, which I found surprising, but it put me in a good mood. I always found it easier to concentrate on the task at hand with no distractions hanging around and nagging at me.

I turned on the radio, and the starting song was, "Sound of Madness." I stretched myself, lifting my leg high over my head then repeating the process on my other foot. Slowly I felt my muscles warm, telling me it was time. 

My feet turned me back towards the sand bag, hanging alone in the middle of the gym. My hands wrapped themselves in gauze, even though it was unnecessary. Pain reminded me of who I was- what I was. It reminded me of what I'd gone through to get here in the first place.

Harsh smacks echoed across the gym as my fist connected with the stitching, and it felt so good to get my anger out that I hit it again. And again. And again. Slowly but surely, I lost myself in the music and the healing.

Then I realized that I had long ago knocked the bag off of it's hook, and it had flown into a nearby wall, glass pieces everywhere around me. On my knuckles were black pieces of ash, and I could see that the bag was smoldering. What the hell happened?

I picked my way out of the maze of shards, grabbing my stuff as I walked towards the surveillance room. The desire to know burned heavily within me.

~*~

My eyes glued to the screen as the video recording of what had just happened in the training room began to play. Of course, it began with me turning on the music and stretching, but the interesting part came next.

I watched as my hand pulled back, spread flat like I was going to high-five someone. Yes, I do know what that means. A ball of fire began to form, and once it was the size of my head it flew into the punching bag. There was a small explosion, which didn't even faze me, and the crumbled wall gaped at me like a toothless tiger.

The tape caught up to present time, and my hand absently went up to my ear. I pressed the small button, hearing a tiny beep. "Fury, this is Astridr. I need you in the surveillance area immediately," I spoke into the tiny little human device, and waited for hell to break loose.

~*~

The team of Avengers sat in a silent semi-circle around the computer, and I sat with a slightly disturbed look on my face as they watched. The video wasn't long, a good three minutes at most, but it felt like eternity. 

Slowly all eyes turned to me and Fury spoke. "Well, looks like your power has grown. Get a cap on it, we don't need you burning down the ship." Rigidly, he walked out of the door. I gazed off in his direction.

"Does he ever once relax?" I mused.

Tony shook his head. "No, but now it looks like I can't call you Frosty anymore." His face fell into a look of mock melancholy, and I clasped my hand over my mouth to resist laughing. 

"Tony, you technically just called me Frosty. You better sleep with one eye open and have JARVIS on top defense," I informed him, and he sprinted out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Looks like you can puncture that ego. 

"I say we celebrate! I found a way for Steve and I to get drunk, so I vote we go clubbing!" Bruce recommended, surprising me. I hadn't expected such a reaction. 

"That would be fun," Steve agreed, and I nodded. 

"Let me go get dressed, and I'll meet you both by the exit. Anyone else coming with us?" I piped in. Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Loki shook their heads no. I shrugged. "Help yourselves." 

~*~

The club was exactly how I remembered it. Loud, and to be frank, a little bit smelly. It reeked of alcohol, but I could see why. Even an out-of-date woman like myself could figure it out if a little time was given.

My appearance had not changed much, besides for the fact that my hair was straight this time. I was also slightly skinnier, after my experience with what's-his-face. My small cuts and bruises were gone by now, but a larger one high up on my leg wasn't. Thankfully, the dress covered it in layers of metallic blue. 

The song "What a Shame" came on, and I twirled to the beat, rhythm changing as often as the music did. Gracefully, I avoided the feet that came into my path.

And so went my night, until I got tired of dancing and made my way to the bar to find Bruce and Steve. Rogers was flat out drunk, and daringly talking to a striking brunette. Her eyes gleamed brightly, and I recognized her as being dull. Good thing she was pretty. 

I rounded the corner, and immediately saw the reason for the nagging feeling in my stomach. The reason why I'd felt so off all night. 

A very drunk Bruce was making out with a very busty blond. My heart fluttered with jealousy. I knew this was only because he was drunk, but a bubbling anger rose inside of me, making me bitter. I swiveled on my heels and exited the bar, and by the time I reached the parking lot I was nothing but a few snow flakes. 

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A / N: Sorry, I felt like having them go through a rough moment before fighting what's-his-face. I'm on her side with this, I'd understand that he was drunk but still be completely and totally pissed off. Therefore, this chapter was born. Vote/Comment please! I'd love to know what you like about this chapter and what you don't, and I'd also like your take on what happens next. 

~Wolfsbane