Shifted | Marvel

8. Friends close, enemies closer (2012)

(first person POV)

I put away my toothbrush and leave the bathroom, looking around for some wearable sweatpants. The search is not made any easier by the randomly thrown clothes, the loose sketches, the empty bottles or the 2 year old black cat that keeps asking for my attention.

Yes, I kidnapped the cat from the animalhospital. Nah, I'm just kidding. After being checked up by the best vet in Washington, Natasha adopted him and let him stay with me. Well, I had to convince Fury first and ask for a room on the ground floor.

And now I'm here, putting on a pair of sneakers while my hairy roommate is playing with one of my black socks, or well, killing it.

"It's been fun, now give that back." I throw myself on the bed, trying to get my sock back. Ofcourse, Souchi thinks it's a game and starts running around the room like crazy, meowing and bumping onto everything that can be bumped onto.

"Oh, come on, Mama's getting a little older everyday," I lie as I keep chasing the black cat around the entire room, panting. I clearly need to work on my cardio.

After another long minute I manage to grab the running cat around his torso. I fall back on my bed with the cat in my arms and yell in victory.

"Ha!" As I try and take the sock, Souchi gives a defeated hiss and bumps his head aggressively against my chin.

"I love you too, little man." I put the cat on one of the pillows of my bed that he claimed as his own the first night he stayed with me. I hear him attack another pillow while closing the door of my room.

I enter an empty gym and decide to tape my hands before Natasha arrives. This all feels so normal, as if I never knew a different life before this.

I've been coming back in my sleep for a couple of weeks or I now have been living in this reality for around two years.

This life became my favorite one.
But it's also the most dangerous one, dangerous on many levels.

I walk across the room and take one of the punching bags. Ugh, I always forget how heavy these things are, but I manage to hang it to a hook on the ceiling.

I get in the position Natasha taught me.

Stand up straight.

Feet shoulder width apart, one of your feet shifted slightly in front of the other.

Dig into the ground with the big toe of your right foot.

Bring both hands up just above chin height.

Make fists.

Keep your thumbs outside.

Your knuckles should be facing the sky.

Elbows tucked in to your side.

Drive the punch with your torso, not your fists.

Strike.

BAM
My fist crashes into the bag a first time.

BAM
BAM

My punches are not as quick or as smooth as Natasha's, but every time I hit the bag, it slightly moves.

BAM

Although I've been practising this for two years now, my knuckles still feel sore and bruise everytime I hit the bag.

"Your stance is shabby," a voice behind me says.

"Mierda!" I jump back in shock and look to the source of the sound.
'Shit'