Just My Luck (Avengers Fanfic)

The Tale of My Kidnapping

The sound of gunshots pulled me out of my strange dream. Gunshots were not out of the norm for me, given that I lived in a group home located in the middle of a street where crime flourished. I woke up to the sound of gunshots and sirens more frequently than I would like to admit.

Something was bothering me, though. Maybe it was the dream that was still in the back of my mind, pestering me. Something about me being in the hospital with no memory.

The gunshots seemed to be making my pounding headache worse. I considered running downstairs to ask for some Advil from Gabe, the person who was in charge of all of the kids, but then I decided that he would probably not be too excited being woken up in the middle of the night. Biting my lip, I settled on dealing with the headache.

Trying to blink the blurriness out of my eyes, I wished that the gunshot sounds would stop. I felt so tired, so it must be really early in the morning. 

Closing my eyes, I fell asleep again.

I woke up again a couple of minutes later when somebody touched my shoulder. That must be Liss, one of my sisters in the group home. She probably had a nightmare and needed some comfort.

"Everything's okay, Liss. Go back to bed. It's still early."

Forcing myself to awake from my sluggish sleep, I struggled to open my eyes, but once I peeled them half-open, I found a pair of blue eyes meeting my brown ones. My heart rate spiked as I recognized the face looking down worriedly at me. 

This wasn't Liss!!

What was Captain America doing in my freaking room?! The jump in my heartbeat and the rush of adrenaline dragged me awake, even more so when I saw the white halls. My room's walls weren't white. The painters fifty years ago painted my room an ugly yellow color that most resembled the color of vomit and lemonade mixed together. By now, the paint became cracked up in most areas. 

I sharply inhaled. Oh shit. Oh god no. This- this was very real. I laid not in my bed at the group home, but in that damn hospital bed. I felt a coldness disappear from my hand, causing me to glance down. I recognized Black Widow getting rid of the handcuff around my left wrist.

"Hurry," Steve urged Natasha while working on removing the IV from my arm.

"I'm doing my best here, Steve," Natasha said before removing the second handcuff. My eyes widened as I realized they were breaking me out of the hospital bed. Since the police didn't let the Avengers take me, they seemed to be going to forcefully grab me and run.

But why?

Payback! Revenge! 

They must hate me for destroying their property!

Oh no. No more pain. I'm already half-dead. I didn't need to go full-on dead. Why did my luck have to prove itself rotten over and over again?

"Call Bruce. Tell him to start the quinjet," Steve told Natasha, finally getting out the needle stuck in my arm. 

Natasha pressed on what I recognized as her earpiece. "Bruce? Bruce, we'll be out in ten." Natasha released the earpiece and, after a moment, gave Steve a brief nod. "Bruce is all set. Pick her up and let's get out of here before back-up arrives."

Steve nodded before focusing on me. 

"No," I weakly said, trying to push Captain America away when he tried to wrap his arm around my back. Okay. I didn't think that would work, even on a good day, or like, any day really, but at least I put in my best effort. I would give myself an A for effort, C for execution, and an F for the final result.