𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢 𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 [✓]

Ch. 26 Inter-relationships [𝔢.]

Word count: 1.3k

Eliza's POV:

I'm kidding, not my worst nightmare, but certainly 'a man who looks like he could throw me against the wall' is up there. I feel my heart quicken, but I try not to show it, keeping my breathing to its normal pace. My eyes flicker to the clock on the wall; the sessions with Bruce last about half an hour, so if I'm too long, Nat will suspect something. Hopefully.

"Who- who are you?" I say quietly, then deadpan. I laugh, "I'm sorry. I can't do this. Way too cliché."

He watches at me with deeply disturbing brown eyes.

"Anyone ever told you it's rude to stare?"

He says nothing.

"God, you're talkative." I say, running my hand over my face, rubbing away any sleep left in the corners of my eyes. "I don't know how these things usually work for you, but I've got somewhere to be, so if you don't mind, I'll be leaving now." I don't know where the confidence comes from, but I start walking towards the door, mindful when I walk past him. I just about make it to the door when a knife slams into the wood, the blade rammed in deep. I turn to look at him, a concerned and offended look in my eyes.

"Look, sweetheart, I don't know if you've ever done this before, but usually, the kid doesn't get a say." His voice is gruff. And annoying. Frankly, I'm not in the mood for hit shit right now, and I'd rather not potentially get kidnapped today.

"Can we set a few things straight? One: never call me sweetheart, sweetheart. Two: you're in the Avenger's compound, if you didn't know, so everything going on will be monitored by the Tony Stark A.I.; three: I'm not up for the whole 'fuck, I'm being kidnapped' shit you have going on, so if you don't mind, sit down with your hands on your head and prepare to be blasted into . . . nothing, by my girlfriend's many scary guns."

Fuck. Where the hell did that come from? What did I drink last night, or even better yet, what has Nat done to me? He smirks at me. He knows something I don't and it's fucking with me.

The guy jumps, lunging forward to wrap a big and crusting hand around the handle of his blade. The metals sticks to the wood for a second before obliging and coming away easily. My eyes dart around the room, searching for anything that could possibly take form as a weapon. My gaze rests on Banner's medical equipment: needles he was about to use to take a sample of my blood. Again.

He turns on his heel, baring a set of yellowing teeth at me in a set snarl of a grin. I dip to avoid the knife, starting to recall parts of my training with Nat. I duck when he swipes above me, dodge left when his body moves to the right.

An angry growl forms in the back of his throat as his attack misses me again. I grin curtly and in his moment of weakness, collide with a work bench a grapple the nearest needle I spot. I jab it deep into his arm and he howls in pain. I release my unsteady grip on the plastic cap and back towards the door, my plan now turning into one of rushed, adrenaline-filled slurs of movement. My attempt was weak and pathetic, but what more can I do right now? I hear a thud against the floor, a grunt and a swift drawing of a blade; I turn just quick enough to avoid the knife that the man's hurled through the air, though the sharp edge of the blade slashes the skin above my eyebrow. Blood gushes down the side of my face but all I focus on is the knife jammed into the wall. I swallow my pride and move around the room, knowing fully well I'm not getting out of this situation how I originally planned to. Banner stays put, still unmoving.

"What do you want?" My voice even feels unsteady. We circle the room, eyes locked intently on the other, but where his are coated by a thick layer of blinded malice, mine shine with scared curiosity.

"Originally you. Dreykov has taken particular interest in Alianovna's play toy." He spits on the ground.

I scoff, "Okay, rude much."

He lunges again and I supress a squeal as I jump the work bench, out of the way.

"He said not to hurt you." The man's voice was sinister: deep, brooding. I backed away towards the wall, swallowing a scream that threatened to fall from my lips, which honestly may be a great way to get help, if I wasn't already choking on it. My screaming would, however, only ever bring this man pleasure, so I hold it in. I'm not ready to die a coward. I stop suddenly when my back hits rock bottom, freezing as I realise that I'm trapped like a spider in a jar. A kick to my leg makes me yell out in pain.

"Friday!" I call out desperately. "Friday, please!"

The man cackles, the noise gurgling sounds of distorted pleasure. "I'm not that stupid."

"Really?" I breath, then close my eyes. What happened to me shutting up?

"I'm not stupid," he says again, repeating it though this time with enough venom to kill. "I disabled Stark's toy before entering the building. You will get no help from that thing."

Tony would be offended.

He crouches to my level, splats of saliva hitting my face as he snarls, his warm breath disgusting and sticky. "I'll just say you fought back. As long as you aren't dead, Dreykov won't mind a few bruises and scratches." He laughs again and reaches for another dagger, pulling one from his boot. God, what is it with assassins and boot daggers?

I try to stand, but he throws a solid jab to my stomach, winding me of all the air in my lungs. I cough into my hand. I go to stand again, but this time, he plunges the dagger though my shoulder, pinning me professionally to the wall. I groan out in pain, my other shoulder slacking a little to try and reduce the pounding agony that rings through my body. I try not to look down as blood pours down my front.

I guess this is what I deserve, for being such an idiot. Fine! You win. I was being a bloody little asshole - still doesn't mean that I should be impaled by a knife.

Then I feel it, a heat surging from my stomach. The man produces a white cloth, which I take to be covered with a drugging agent, but I'm too preoccupied with the feeling in my abdomen and pain in my right shoulder to think much of it. As he touches the cloth to my mouth and nose, I feel the heat surge again, but this time it rises and I see my reflection in Banner's lab window. I'm surprised he hasn't woken up yet.

I'm not ready to die a coward.

I stare at the window, watches as the girl in the reflection ignites with a deep purple, her eyes rim with the same brilliant colour.

I'm not ready to die at all.

I let my mind take control as I reach up to his chest, and the last thing I see is his body flying across the room before my vision blurs and dims, before finally turning black.

...