Chapter Text
"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone."
-Rose Kennedy
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There are people who ask for justice and not revenge.
Justice requires choosing to act good in contrast to bad, with the illusion that this will clean their conscience.
Although these two concepts have a different connotation when we look back in Ancient Greece.
Justice and revenge merge under one name, Nemesis.
Commonly known as the goddess of revenge, but also of justice. A compensating justice. A sort of equilibrium.
Right now, what I've always thought of as my Nemesis, is walking down a gray alley. He's followed by a doctor and a guard. His head is down, and his dark hair is covering his face.
My heart races, knowing that my life is in his hands, and I can't stop thinking this is a shitty idea.
He walks past my cell, and I can see him turn his face and glance at me.
That's all I need to know that our plan is still on.
A guard opens the cell in front of me.
The glass doors slide away, and a guard takes off the metal handcuffs from his wrist.
My palms are sweaty as I slowly lay on my side on the concrete floor and start shaking.
"What is wrong with her?" I hear a muffled voice speaking, and I see the guard turn around to see me convulsing on the floor.
"The last test's side effects, probably." The man in the white coat hums, walking over my cell.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as my body keeps shaking like I'm invaded by high-voltage electricity.
The doctor sighs, annoyed "Open the cell." He orders the guard that rushes to the pad on the side of the door, opening it.
The doctor walks in and squats next to me.
He flashes a light across my pupils, bending over my body.
It's just a matter of seconds. My hand reaches the doctor's throat, and my fingers wrap around tightly.
I slowly stand up, keeping my hold as his nails scrape the skin off my arm. I lift him up and throw him against the concrete wall.
The guard walks over me, aiming his gun in my direction, shouting at me to get on my knees.
I smirk, and he gets on his knees and then on the ground unconscious.
"Don't stand there. We don't have time. Take the uniform." I growl at the man standing in front of me, nodding at the guard. I walk over to the doctor, taking his coat and badge.
An alarm goes off, and red lights start flickering in the cell.
I step out as the doors automatically closes behind me.
"Did you take his gun?" I ask, walking to the elevator at the end of the corridor. The man nods, and I see the gun in his hand.
The steel doors open, and we head inside.
I press the first button on the pad, and we start going up.
When the doors open, some guards are standing a few feet in front of us.
They're ready to fire, but I hold up my hand and close my fist.
Their guns fall to the ground, and I hear gunshots behind me.
They fall on the ground, lifeless.
I get out of the elevator and walk forward, stepping over the bodies without looking back.
This is the first floor. I've been there before, but I've no idea where the exit is.
I take a left, but a strong arm pulls me back, and my back meets the wall.
I jerk my head to my left, seeing two blue eyes staring at me. His long hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead.
Two guards run past the alley without noticing us.
I shake my head. I should have heard them coming. The adrenaline running in my blood is making me careless.
My chest feels a bit light when I turn the corner and see an open door to the outside.
I can see the blue sky, and it's clear of clouds.
I nudge the man following me, pointing at the door. "There, we found it," I mutter, grinning.
I walk over, just to feel a burning sting in my shoulder, followed by a gunshot. My eyes fall on my arm, seeing blood running down to my elbow.
"Son of a bitch." I hiss, looking at the guard that shot me.
I raise my arm. With a quick sway of my hand, the guard falls to the ground.
I see my accomplice shooting back at other guards coming from both sides of the crossed hallways.
"We can't take all of them," he shouts, taking down two men.
"We have to. We can't give up now." I shout back, stopping a few men from coming towards us.
They keep coming, and we're basically surrounded.
A gunshot hits an electrical panel, setting it alight.
"You go. I'll buy you some time." He groans, shooting his last bullet.
The fire and the smoke start to fill the place, and it's hard to see a few feet from our faces.
"That wasn't what we planned!" I argue, hearing a bullet explode a few inches from my head.
"I don't know if you noticed, but the plan is no longer on. Get the fuck out!" He yells, punching a guard.
"I'm not running like a coward. You're coming with me!" I shout back.
"If you don't, we will die for nothing, go!" he insists, looking at me.
I walk backwards, feeling the wall behind me. I'm a step away from freedom, but my legs feel stiff.
My stomach sinks, realizing I'm leaving him behind.
The shouting shakes me, restoring my strenght.
I step outside, feeling the fresh wind on my face, and it takes me a second to fully breathe in some air.
I look back, seeing nothing but smoke, and I start running.
My legs keep moving, stopping only to take cover behind a wall.
What looks like an old military base is what has kept me for years, but still, I've no idea how to get out of this place.
I start running again, and somehow I get onto a path outside the perimeter into a wood.
After a few minutes, I get to the top of a hill and crouch down between some bushes.
I can see the base, and the east wing is smoking.
Guards and doctors are rushing outside, and in a few minutes, an explosion knocks down a portion of the east wing.
My breath hitches, and deep down, I hope that he made it.
The sun is high in the sky, and the road has been empty for almost two hours.
I take off the white coat, tearing off a sleeve, and tie it over my shoulder.
There is an exit hole, so the bullet is not in my arm. It should start healing soon.
I look around, hoping to spot some kind of vehicle. The first part of the plan didn't work out as expected, but the second part is still valid.
I look up to a road sign hanging over my head.
The memories of the trips made over the years, mission after mission, help me figure out where I am.
East Philadelphia, and at the end of this road, there are the first houses.
Wheels running on the asphalt makes my head turn back, seeing a black truck coming in my direction.
I stretch my hand, waving. Hoping whoever is driving will stop.
The truck slows down and stops about five feet ahead of me.
"Kid, are you ok?" A man with a white moustaches pops his head out of the window.
"Yeah," I nod, speeding up my pace, "uh my car," I hesitate and notice he's looking at me weirded out.
"I had an accident. I need to get to town," I say, pointing at my arm.
"Oh, is someone else hurt? I should call the cops." He urges, shifting in his seat and taking a phone from his pocket.
"No!" I snap at him. I can't have the cops on me. They are going to find out who I am and what I did.
"There's no need. I was alone. It was a problem with my brakes. I already made a call."
I beg the universe that he will just believe what I'm saying, avoiding unpleasant alternatives.
The man hums and unlocks the passenger door.
I get in the truck, letting out a sigh of relief, "where were you heading?"
He glances at me, and the truck starts moving again. "New York, but I can leave you in Easton." He says, resting his arm on the window.
"Actually, New York is where I was heading to," I state, relieved.
"Fine by me." He sighs, visibly tired.
The rest of the ride is quiet, and I have time to rest my head for almost an hour.
When we finally arrive in New York, my stomach twists. It's been so long since the last time I was here. Home.
The tall buildings get closer and closer until the truck stops.
"I guess you will have to take a bus from here." The man announces, killing the engine. We are somewhere in upper Manhattan.
I open the door and get out of the truck, looking back.
"Thanks for the ride," I say, raising a hand in salute. The man gives me a nod, and I head off down the street, towards the subway.
While waiting for the next ride, I take the sleeve off my arm, noticing it's already healed. A red scar has been left behind, but it could be much worse.
Climbing the stairs and getting back to the surface gives me a rush of adrenaline. I'm so close to making it.
My chin is up in the air, looking at all the screens and buildings towering around me.
I snap out of the momentous state of excitement and start walking again.
The Chrysler Building is behind my back, and my heart stops for a second.
I stand in front of the entrance, I can't see the top, but I can still read the capital letters on it. Stark.
Two men dressed in suits walk out, chatting with each other, and pass by without noticing me.
Deep breath in, I finally step inside.
"I need to see Mr. Stark," I tell the woman sitting behind a desk in the reception.
She looks up at me with a frown, "Do you have an appointment?" she asks, and I shake my head.
"Then I can't let you in." She dismisses, getting back to her work.
"It's important." I insist, and she sighs, annoyed.
I almost thought she was going to let me see him when she picks up the phone, "Can you send security?" she mumbles, glancing at me.
I feel rage filling my chest, and I look around, trying to find a way to get to Stark.
A tall man in a black suit walks towards me, and I start to panic.
I hold up my hand, and a bluish blast throws the man into the glass waterfall at the entrance.
People start screaming and rushing outside while other guards converge their attention and arms against me. I hide behind the desk and try to calm down.
If I don't, I won't be able to control my powers.
"Come out with your hands in the air!" A guard shouts, and I peek behind the desk.
"I just want to talk to Stark!" I yell back, hiding again.
"Come out!" I shut my eyes closed, feeling my chest heavy.
"Calm down. Shut it down." I whisper to myself, tightening my fists.
"I'm listening." I hear, and my eyes snap open again.
My head slowly pops up from behind the desk, and I see him. Tony Stark.
He is wearing his Iron-Man suit, but his face is exposed.
"So are those people. I need to talk to you." I nod at the guards still aiming at me.
"You're the one who came in here and started throw people around," he scoffs, "I don't think you are in the position to ask for conditions," Tony suggests, and I nod.
"Fine," I let out a sigh, "Do you remember Amanda, Tony?" I ask, knitting my brows.
Tony's cocky expression drops, changing drastically into a serious one.
"Out, everyone." He orders.
The security glance at each other and slowly lower their guns, and leave us alone.
I straighten, lifting my chin, "So, do you remember her?" I insist, and Tony stares at me in silence.
"Who are you?" he seethes, keeping his eyes on me, scanning every inch of my face.
"You answer the question. Do you remember Amanda?" I utter, clenching my fists.
His eyes dart to my hands, and I notice they're glowing with violet light.
"Why are you here?" He inquires, and I feel the rage coming back, filling my chest.
"That's not how you answer a question, Stark." I snap at him, walking towards him.
"Yes." he spits out, and I freeze on the place.
"I bet you don't know what happened to her." I scoff, watching his expression change again into confusion.
"Why are you asking about a girl I met more than twenty years ago?" He asks, and I can tell he's trying to put everything together.
"She died. Because of you." My voice comes out as a snarl, and he widens his eyes.
"What? She's dead?" He murmurs, and if I didn't know how evil he is, I would even believe he looks sorry.
"You," I step closer to him, his face a few inches from mine, "you have my mother's blood on your hands." I breathe out as my conscience starts to drown in my own anger.
"And I'll make sure you pay for that. I'll take everything you care about, and I'll end it in front of you." I swear, baring my teeth.
Tony lowers down his helmet, "I don't know what you are talking about, but you can be sure as hell you won't move a finger without me sending you into oblivion." He seethes, and I feel he's ready to kick my ass.
"I'd love to see you try," I smirk, ready to let go of all the rage I've been burying.