Wither Wings [DISCONTINUED]

A New World Order

Buongiorno, my lovely chums! Today is another angsty day in the Wither Wings verse with a slight chance of humor in the morning. I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter immensely because I love hearing your reviews!

To the person who asked for possible Max/Iggy: Sorry, that is 100% not possible due to the fact that Iggy is, unfortunately, dead. But I can have her lament about him for a few paragraphs if you want :P

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Last time on Wither Wings.

"Tasha!" Stark clapped her on the shoulders as she entered, seeing the rest of the team seated on a small row of theatre-like bench seats. "Glad you could make it."

-

"But then we thought, 'Who could get through to this girl?'" Tony made a fake pensive face. "And your sharpshooting lover over there said, 'Natasha's a girl! She could do it! She's amazing at everything.'"

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The Widow wasn't wary, which was good. When Natasha got wary, the threat must be huge, but she figured this was an easy job. Talk to her a bit, coax her to giving them a blood sample, maybe having to restrain her as the worst-case scenario, all in a day's work. The door clicked closed behind her as she treaded lighter than normal on the linoleum flooring towards the table.

Seriously? Natasha thought in disdain. Fury couldn't spring for something more…tasteful? Tile, maybe?

Seeing no sitting space, Natasha sat directly across from the girl on the floor, her back leaning against the glass, even though she knew that the girl attacked most frequently from this angle. But since Natasha didn't have precious family jewels to protect, she considered herself pretty safe.

"Hello," Tasha whispered softly, going into full-on Widow mode replete with falsified emotions and motherly attributes. It drew no response from the girl, so Natasha pressed further. "How are you?" No response again, so Tasha took to rambling. "I know the table isn't very comfortable, I can get a ch–"

"Go. Away." The words were filled with so much malice it surprised Natasha that it could come from the figure, as she didn't even raise her head to speak. They were overly pronounced, sharpened like a knife and pointed like a blade.

"Are you hungry?" Widow soldiered on, her palms against the floor in case she had to pounce. "There's some food in the–"

"Leave." The same tone coloured the girl's speech, a driven sound that was deep-rooted in horror story characters.

"We are trying to help," Natasha was beginning to become angry at this point. "If you would just let–"

"LEAVE!" The girl screamed, slipping off the table as she tore it straight out of the bolts that fastened it to the ground, her arm muscles rippling in the process. She lobbed it at Tasha, who missed it by a few inches and quickly exited the room. The table hit the mirror with a sickening screech that made all of the Avengers who were watching the ordeal jump. Natasha closed the door with the security code, walking calmly to her seat and asking with a wry smile,

"So who wants to go next?"

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"What do you think her problem is?" Clint asked the remaining Avengers as Banner entered the room in an attempt to calm the girl, who, true to her nature, was back on the table, fingers twirling in that ever-maddening pattern.

"Psychosis? Tony suggested with an offhand tone and a shrug. "Maybe she took too many pepper-upper pills and now her mind's all loopy. It doesn't really matter, because guess what? It's not our problem."