The End of the Line | a Captain America Fanfic

twenty

I sit down to let Natasha braid my hair for the mission. It gives me nostalgia, a feeling of ease even tho it reminds me of a time full of torture. However, it also shows me how safe I am now that I'm here.

"Are you excited for your first mission as an Avenger?" she asks, smiling down at me.

"Why would I? Should I?", I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No let's be for real, I am actually so nervous right now. But I still think it's a good decision to let me go with you guys. Thanks to Sharon I guess.", I laugh but it's not a happy one, it's bitter.

"No, thanks to you. There are so many people in the world that underestimate you. Don't let yourself be one of them."

"Thanks."

We keep silent for the next 15 minutes until my sister finishes my hair, braiding it around my head like a crown.

We both walk to the supply centre to get our weapons and anything else we need.

Despite the overwhelming size of the tower, I catch myself having no problems whatsoever when it comes to getting somewhere quickly.

Pepper and Tony did an astonishing job when designing it. On our way I take the time to admire the quiet beauty that lies in our head quarters, a lot of glass and chrome would normally make a room look cold and impersonal but Pepper made sure to let her love for details flow into this project. Where ever I turn I see photographs, paintings, flowers, and candles. Every couch is stuffed with cozy blankets and pillows.

This doesn't feel like a work space. It feels like home. And not just because of the interior, but because of the people that live within the tower.

The supply center lies right next to the training facilities.

The sunlight streams through the windows of the training room, casting a warm, golden glow across the polished surface of the floor. As it hits the mat, the light seems to dance and shimmer, illuminating every crease and fold with a radiant brilliance.

Around the perimeter of the room, mirrors line the walls, reflecting the sunlight in a dazzling display of prismatic colors. Rays of light bounce off the mirrors, creating a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of patterns that dance across the room like ethereal ribbons.

I look at Nat and she raises and eyebrow.

"One last session before the mission?"

We step onto the training mat, the cool surface firm beneath my feet. Nat positions herself across from me, her eyes focused and determined. We nod to each other in silent acknowledgment before assuming our fighting stances.

The air crackles with energy as we begin to circle each other, each movement deliberate and calculated. I keep my guard up, muscles coiled like springs, ready to react at a moment's notice. Nat advances, testing my defenses with a series of swift jabs and feints.

I respond in kind, weaving and dodging her strikes with fluid grace. The rhythm of our movements becomes a dance, a symphony of motion. I wait for the perfect moment to strike, biding my time with patience and precision.

Suddenly, an opening presents itself, a split-second window of vulnerability. With lightning speed, I seize the opportunity, launching a barrage of strikes aimed at her exposed flank. Nat reacts swiftly, deflecting my blows with deft skill and agility.

"You're getting better, sis," I say, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips despite the seriousness of the moment.

My sister returns the smile, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Likewise. But don't think I'll go easy on you."