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If you told Nina a few weeks ago, that the thing that finally drove her mad was the ghost of a man she'd technically killed singing a children's song over and over she'd most likely call you insane. But as she stood on the mats in the training room of the Bus, hands pressed firmly against her ears, she decided that maybe she was the insane one.

"God, shut up. Shut up!" Nina muttered through gritted teeth as the man continued to sing.

Pop goes the weasel.

She'd tried everything she could think of to silence the man but nothing worked. The more he sung, the louder he got and Nina was slowly losing it. Her lack of control had gotten so bad that she'd even gone as far as to ask Coulson to take her out of the field for the rest of the assignment because she couldn't trust herself.

It was a request that had immediately raised concerns and questions. Nina had answered all of them diplomatically, yet she felt utterly disgusting as she had used Trip's death as the ultimate reason for her stepping back. Coulson had granted the request after that, especially since Skye had asked for the same thing, the director clearly thinking survivors guilt was eating away at his agents.

That's the way the money goes. Pop goes the weasel.

"Shut up!" Nina snapped, loudly for the first time. Her gloved hand pulled a knife off her arm and threw it in the direction of the blue-tinted body. She wasn't surprised to see the weapon pass directly through the man and embed in the panelled wall, but she was surprised to see the man's blank face twist into a sickening smile before he went up in a puff of blue smoke.

A relieved breath left her mouth as he disappeared but she was still very paranoid. She didn't remove her gloves or look down at her exposed skin, not wanting to know if her veins were still black and instead she pulled the fabric of her turtleneck further up her neck, secretly thanking a god she didn't believe in that the veins in her face hadn't changed colour.

Nina honestly felt like she was dying, the longer her veins stayed in that state the physically weaker she felt. The added paranoia of someone other than Skye and Fitz seeing them was simply a torturous bonus.

"Hey, Nina."

That's why Mack couldn't pick a worse time to walk in. Before he even got the chance to finish his sentence, Nina had pulled a knife from her boot and thrown it in his direction.

Her eyes widened when she noticed that the person who had spoken wasn't a blue-tinted ghost out to haunt her, but the realisation hit her too late, the hilt of her knife already too far past her fingertips to halt the attack.

"Move back," Nina yelled at Mack, sliding her sleeve back down her exposed arm. The mechanic looked at her confused before he saw the blade rushing towards him at an inhumane speed.

He heeded Nina's warning and took a massive step back, the only problem with his movement was that he also raised his arm. The trajectory of the knife curved directly in front of his body and the blade, that would have impaled Mack in the side of the neck, instead slashed across his forearm before finding a home in the wall.

"Jesus Christ, Mack," Nina exclaimed as she jogged over to the man. She came to a stop in front of him, grabbing his large hand and moving it so she could see the tear in his sleeve and the cut now in his skin, "I said move back not raise your damn arm!"

"Hey, you just tried to stab me!" Mack yelled back, wincing slightly when Nina literally ripped his sleeve from his shirt, "you don't get to lecture me."

Nina glared at him before her features softened. She was mad at her powers and the lack of control she had over them, taking that anger out on Mack wasn't something she should do.

[2] An Executioner's Requiem | Leo FitzWhere stories live. Discover now