Veronica Barnes: Trained to Kill

XXXV.

Date: 09/14/2023
Location: Avengers Compound, Manhattan

Veronica stood in the gym of the compound, punching a punching bag repeatedly. Punch after punch, bloodied knuckles, dark circles under her eyes, bruises on her wrists, piles of ripped open punching bags. Days had passed since the encounter with Tony at his cabin, and the anger still burned through the girl's body, heightened by her powers. Each time Veronica broke a punching bag, sending it flying across the room, it landed in a cloud of purple magic. It was the Power Stone shining through her like a beacon. Natasha and Steve told her to stay home when they went with Scott to recruit Bruce to their mission of time travel, afraid of what she would do. That had made the girl angry. It wasn't the fact that they didn't want her going, it was the fact that she made people afraid. She hadn't done that since she was a killer. A murderer. An assassin with a body count three times her age.

The thoughts roared through her as she punched the leather of the bag one more time, the bag soaring across the room and skidding on the floor, stuffing from the inside pillowing out. She called a quits after that, unwrapping the bandages around her wrists as she flexed her fingers, the blood and scabs making them hard to bend. They hurt, which made the girl happy. Pain would help subside her emotions of anger, she just had to find ways to hurt herself.

She exited the gym, walking up the steps to the main room and going up to her old bedroom. She opened the door slowly, like she was going to see Loki standing there, or Peter on the bed doing homework. Now, all she saw was an unmade bed from seven years ago, a bouquet of dead roses littering the floor. She walked across the floor over to her bed, sitting down to look at the side table. Framed photos sat of pictures of herself and Peter with the grimacing face of Happy Hogan, or the disproving glare of Tony. There was a picture of herself, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, and Vision, Wanda and Natasha grinning as Clint had his arm around the back of Vision, holding up two fingers behind his head as Peter dangled from webs on the ceiling. Another was with Bruce, the man holding up a hand as he tried to keep the two from getting him in the picture as he worked. She sniffed as she held the frames in her hand, sitting them back on the top of the table before reaching to her drawer.

Inside was an old journal, some hair ties, a head band, bracelets, a ring, and an envelope. The girl reached for it, picking it up in her hands as she flipped it over. Scribbled on the front was her name in familiar handwriting, tugging the girl's heart and sending tears to her eyes. She slid her finger under the stamp on the back, pulling out a slip of paper.

Veronica,

I messed up. Big time. I know that. Loki showed up before you left for Asgard, which by now it's been a year. I'm going on a field trip tomorrow to MoMA, and I don't know when I'll see you again. I just remembered you always wanted to go there because the only art you'd ever seen was on the other side of a computer screen, or graffiti on the side of a rundown building. If I ever see you again, and you forgive me, I promise I'll take you there and show you every piece of artwork. I'll even write little notecards and give you backstories from the pieces.

I just hope you're happy where you are now, and if you ever see this note, know I didn't mean what I said. MJ and I never did anything together. She came over after I went home, but nothing happened other than her taking a shower because the water was cut out at her apartment and she needed a place to shower. I swear I'll make it up to you one day, or in another life, because I love you, and I want you to know that I don't think I'll ever stop.

Love, Peter.

Tears stung her eyes, falling down her face as she looked down at the paper and his scribbled handwriting. He'd wrote this the day before going to the Museum of Modern Art, which he was on his way back from when he went to space with Tony and Doctor Strange. She sniffed as a tear fell onto the paper, the girl sitting it down on the bedside table as she stood up, tears rolling down her cheeks.