The next morning Mila felt her eyes opening and looked around to see she was the first one up , recieving a call she turnt over and grabbed her phone and smiled when she saw the contact , it was an old friend .
'' Hey angel " . He greeted .
"Hey jay , haven't heard from you in a while .
"Your the one girl I know to do the job , Derek's been winning a few races recently and it doesn't feel right we need the og to come back and humble him .
"Okay deal , same place?" She asked.
"Same place" he confirmed and hung up the phone.
"Hey Jarvis , where's the keys to Tony's best performance car?" She asks whilst brushing her hair .
"They're in his bedside draw , miss Riley" he informs .
"Thanks Jarvis" she grabbed the keys and off she went , she entered the sleek parking lot and immediately found the car which she was looking for so she got straight in and off she went
Little did she know , the owner of said car and the best spy in the world was following her nevertheless she made a way to the event and parked up ready to smash it and win like she always did and she always will I guess that's what she was there for to prove her worth and to continue her winning streak.
"Sorry, Tony," she whispered to herself, hopping into the driver's seat. "I'll bring it back in one piece. Probably."
A clandestine street racing event held in the city's industrial district.
The makeshift racetrack was set up in an abandoned warehouse complex, with a winding course that twisted and turned through the maze of old buildings. The area was bustling with street racers and spectators, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. Mila pulled up in Tony's Ferrari, attracting a few curious glances from the crowd.
"Nice ride," someone called out as she parked. "Where'd you steal that from?"
Mila smirked, stepping out of the car. "Borrowed it from a friend," she replied, her confidence unwavering.
The race was set to start in a few minutes, and Mila quickly signed up, securing a spot among the competitors. The other racers sized her up, some dismissing her as an amateur, others recognizing her from her street racing days. She ignored the stares and focused on the race ahead.
A flag was raised, and then dropped. The race began with a roar of engines, the cars surging forward, jostling for position. Mila's Ferrari sped ahead, maneuvering through the tight turns and narrow alleyways with skill and precision. The course was dangerous, with debris scattered across the ground and sharp corners that required split-second decisions.
As the race continued, Mila's instincts kicked in, her reflexes sharp and quick. She drifted around corners, her tires skidding but never losing control. She weaved through the other racers, using her speed to gain the lead. The adrenaline coursed through her veins, the thrill of the race propelling her forward.
She took the final turn with a flourish, the Ferrari sliding sideways before straightening out, her competitors left in the dust. The crowd cheered as she crossed the finish line, her victory clear. She pumped her fist in the air, exhilarated by the win.
But not everyone was pleased with her success. A man from her past, a rival street racer named Derek, approached her as she climbed out of the car. His expression was sour, his eyes narrowed with jealousy. "You got lucky," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You always were a cheat, Riley."
Mila rolled her eyes, her bravado intact. "Luck's got nothing to do with it, Derek. Maybe you should practice more instead of whining about losing."
Derek's anger flared, and he lunged at her, shoving her hard. Mila stumbled back, but she quickly recovered, her eyes narrowing. "Don't push me," she warned, her voice icy. "You don't want to start something you can't finish."
Derek didn't back down. He swung a punch, aiming for her face, but Mila was quick. She ducked and retaliated with a swift kick to his stomach, sending him stumbling backward. The crowd gasped, watching the confrontation with a mix of shock and excitement.
Derek lunged again, but Mila was ready. She grabbed his arm, twisted it, and delivered a sharp elbow to his chest. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he dropped to his knees. Mila didn't let up. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up, delivering a powerful punch that sent him sprawling to the ground.
The crowd erupted in cheers, and Mila stood over Derek, her stance strong and confident. She turned to leave, only to find Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark standing nearby, watching the entire scene unfold.
"Nice moves," Natasha remarked, her tone cool and impressed. "But you know we're supposed to avoid fights outside of official missions, right?"
Tony raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk in place. "And you took my car without asking. I think that's worth at least a few hours in the training room."
Mila shrugged, brushing off her hands. "Hey, he started it. I just finished it." She glanced at Tony, her grin cheeky. "And I was going to ask you about the car, but you were asleep."
Tony sighed, shaking his head. "Next time, just leave a note, okay? It's less dramatic."
Natasha chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "You sure know how to make an impression, Mila. But let's get out of here before things escalate." She gestured toward the compound. "Besides, I think you owe Tony an apology for taking his Ferrari without permission."
Mila rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. "Okay, okay. I get it. Let's go." She followed Natasha and Tony back to the Ferrari, feeling a sense of relief that they hadn't been angry with her. The race had been exhilarating, and the fight had reminded her of her own strength.
As they drove back to the compound, Mila felt a newfound sense of camaraderie with the Avengers. They had her back, even when she got into trouble, and that was a feeling she could get used to. She knew there would be challenges ahead, but she was ready to face them, knowing she wasn't alone.
