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Y/n, paralyzed with anger and resentment makes a brash decision to conspire with Sword, an extraterrestrial agency, to bring The Scarlet Witch to justice for what she did to the people of WestView.
With her unique abilities, she's abl...
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On a typical day, Y/n would listen to music and spend her days walking around New York in disguise. Anything to keep her body from shutting down.
Now, she sat in the loading area of the airport, still, listening to classical music and trying not to shut down.
Her body only truly shut down if she spent too much time doing nothing. It was a beauty and a curse, really. A person who could do basically anything but something like watching a two hour movie could send her into a comatose state of sleep. Which is why she typically was on the move all day long until she actually needed to sleep.
That's why she had to leave. If she was able to be in her own space, in her own environment, she could learn to control every part of her being without fear of being caught.
"Flight seven B to Rome, please make your way to the departure gates."
Y/n's head raised as she pulled the earbuds from her ear at the sound of the intercom.
The airport was busy today, suits and rushing families surrounding her in every direction. It was one of the most crowded places she's been in the last few weeks but it was just one more step closer to peace.
Or so she thought.
As she walked through the airport, trying to blend into the crowds all walking in one direction, she could feel eyes on her. But not just any eyes, the ones she classified as fiery and hate-filled.
Adjusting the glasses over her eyes, she turned her head ever so slightly to see an airport security guard talking into a radio, gaze following her.
"Shit," she hissed, pulling the straps of her bag tighter around her shoulder. A fight in her apartment was a million times less fatal than a fight in an airport. There could've easily been casualties if she didn't stop the bullets from crashing against the walls but an airport filled with thousands of people at a time? She may be a special species but she wasn't that special. She was no.. Avenger.
"Excuse me, miss?" A voice called out but she kept walking, her pace quickening to find a clearing. The bathroom could have people.. but it's less of an amount.. no, too much collateral damage. She huffed at her own internal thoughts before making a split second decision.
Hope air control can handle a bit of an outage.
With a smirk, she looked over her shoulder to see more security guards now following after her, eyes firmly fixed on every move she made. With a nod, she clutched the bag and dug her feet into the marble flooring as she started to dash full speed toward the door clearly labeled,
Authorized Personal Only.
"Get back here!" The guards yelled, quickly trying to run after her but even if Y/n didn't have super speed as an ability, she was still one hell of a runner. It proved when the ten guards slowly turned to seven by the time they ran through the door, the other three now bent over and trying to catch their breaths.
Ahead of them, Y/n had jumped over a guard railing and was now free running onto the runway that was merely meant for airplanes and, well, authorized personnel.
There were more airplanes parked than running, except for one being taxied in. She looked around to see more guards swarming in, all holding up guns now aimed at her.
"So goddamn persistent." She huffed and raised her hands, eyes flipping between the guards surrounding her and the plane that was now ordered to stop in the middle of the runaway. "Okay boys.." her eyes squinted. "And girls. We can talk this out, right?"
No one responded, nor moved as black trucks with dark tinted windows started to pull up. Y/n rolled her eyes and dropped her head back with a deep groan. "Not the Knives." Her arms crossed when the cars stopped, more guards and suits climbing out.
One man in particular walked ahead of the others with a squint to his eyes that was more condescending than angry. She also couldn't help but notice that the gray in his hair was clearly being colored to look brown.
"Y/n Y/ln," the man started, stopping a safe distance from her but close enough to try to show that he wasn't afraid. "You've been a slippery fish to catch."
Y/n hummed lowly and looked around at the crowd of, no less, than twenty soldiers now. "Well, maybe you outta try a different pond, huh?" Her eyes drifted back to his dark ones. "Just an idea."
He cracked a smirk and slowly reached for his pocket, making Y/n raise her hands in case he tried anything. "Relax," he said before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black rectangle badge. Then, he flipped it open for her to see. "Tyler Hayward, Sword Director."
Her eyes squinted. "More Knives. How's your guys from before? Hope I didn't put em in too much of a shock." He flipped the badge back shut, eyes locked on hers as he slipped it into his pocket.
"You're wanted for public destruction, conspiracy against the government, and murder, Y/n. I don't think it's the time to be cute." Y/n silently clenched her jaw at his accusations and when she didn't make any further comments, Hayward nodded and continued. "We have a proposition for you, Y/n. You are as good at hiding as you are at finding people, well, you were until I stepped in."
Again, Y/n remained silent because she knew exactly what he would ask of her. Not entirely what but the ending outcome, she knew.
"I think there's no reason we can't come to a mutual agreement." Y/n crossed her arms again as Hayward pulled something else from his pocket but this time, it was a white slip of paper. And as he held the paper up, Y/n's arms dropped. "Immunity for everything you've done."
Y/n took brisk steps forward, ignoring the closing in of the guards as she snatched the paper and stared closely at the picture. Hayward, noticing how deep in thought she was, raised his hands to make his man stand down. He knew Y/n had more anger toward this person in particular than any avenger, living or dead.
"Where is she?" Y/n breathed out, feeling her breathing become shallow as she studied the picture. Her face, her hair, her eyes. Y/n hated every inch and every spec of her with every fibre in her being. Even if half of that fibre was completely non carbon based, she hated her with that half as well.
"We don't know." Hayward said and crossed his arms behind his back, head lifting with the subtle but definite feeling of having won. "But she's as much of a criminal as you are and, like I said, I believe we can come to a mutual agreement.." Y/n could feel the rage burning up through her chest and setting behind her eyes and with one glance up at Hayward, she could see her glowing, ember-like orbs within the reflection of his eyes.
Y/n nodded, subconsciously gripping the picture within her hold. "As long as I can kill her.. I'll do whatever you want."
With her mind made up, she dropped the paper onto the ground and the picture of Wanda Maximoff just moments before her disappearance from WestView laid on the gravel, wrinkled from the crumbling of Y/n's fist.
"Great." Hayward said and the smirk reappeared as he had his very own enhanced individual at his side. "It sounds like we have a deal." Hayward raised his hand for Y/n to shake but she simply stared at it, then lifted her bag off of her shoulder and dropped it into his grasp.
He quickly caught it and looked at Y/n disapproving but she already walked past him toward the armored truck. "I work better on a full stomach, Knife director!" She called out, making him huff and walk after her.
