Fire and Smoke - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Chapter 67

The first thing I'm aware of is groaning. God, who or what is that? And might they be able to shut up? It's making my brain pound very uncomfortably against my cranium. Bang. bang. bang.

The second thing I'm aware of is how parched I am, and how my body feels as though I've engaged in some medieval form of wrestling, every single inch of me feeling like it's been used as a punching bag

 The third thing I'm aware of is that the groaning is emanating from my very own vocal cords.

I stop groaning immediately.

I peel my eyes open, which proves rather uncomfortable as my usually very pleasant eyeballs feel as though someone has gone over them with some sandpaper. I instantly shut them again, the cold, bright light way too harsh for me right now, and also because if I could, I would prefer to stay blissfully blacked out for just a little while longer. I realize that I am lying on my right side on something that feels suspiciously like cold concrete. It has also managed to make my entire right arm go numb. I groan again just for the heck of it before I reposition my battered and tired self into a slouching, but nonetheless sitting, position. The act makes my brain knock against my skull with newfound vigor as needles travel through my arm which doesn't seem all too grateful for its newfound supply of fresh blood. This sucks.

You know what sucks? Your complaining.

I instantly recognize the sour voice of the Maximoff witch in my head. My body is doused by warmth as she talks to me, and I'm also made aware of some of her own annoyance at her situation as her emotions rub against mine and I can't quite tell which annoyance belongs to me and which one to her.

Get out. I huff and open my eyes again -attempt number two.

This attempt proves more successful than the first one as I slowly adjust to my strange surroundings. The bright light is coming from a fluorescent tube of light up above my head. The coolness of the floor is indeed that of concrete, and I am in what effectively could be described as a light grey prison cell. There is a dark grey steel door, and a mirror I can only presume is a one-way mirror. I have no way of knowing whether there are people watching me this very moment from behind the glass, however, I am not alone in the cell.

Slumped against one of the four walls a little way from me, is none other than Maximoff. She's sitting still, her head leaning back against the wall, effectively exposing her neck and the heavy collar around it. Her chest rises slowly and falls slowly too as her perceptive wide eyes are trained on me. She must've woken up slightly before me, her body being able to fight off whatever we were injected with faster than mine due to her enhancements, I would assume.

Maximoff smiles a cracked smile and looks up at the ceiling. Her face almost matches the grey wall behind her in color, and yet the look somehow suits her, I notice, which slightly annoys me. I'm quite certain I don't look half as decent, and I'm not the one sporting a massive bruise on the side of my face.

"What?" My voice is dry and cracked, slightly too loud for our environment, but I refuse to have her inside me if I can help it. I watch Maximoff as she lets her smile fall slightly as she looks back at me, her gaze somehow too direct even though she's at least five meters away from me.

"What's so funny?" I ask her as she raises a questioning eyebrow, the shadow of her smirk still on her face.

"Nothing, really." Maximoff sighs, her stupid smile still playing on her lips, her accent thicker than usual. She must be tired.

"Well, it's something, and your smile is annoying me." I sulk, annoyed at me being in the exact same position as she is when I was supposed to be the one capturing Maximoff. Why the hell am I here?