Wither Wings [DISCONTINUED]

Because Wednesday Is Schwarma Day

Moooore plot this chapter! Somewhat angsty and very important. Even better, I updated two chapters in the space of two days, so I deserve reviews. :D

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Last time on Wither Wings. 

Fury waited before Max was far enough away before he turned around and spoke to them. “Now Avengers, it’s time you learned something about our newest recruit…”

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Max was sitting on a wooden folding chair with her feet propped up on the railing of the balcony when the rest of the team got out of the meeting. She surveyed the skyline, popping a piece of gum that she had found in the pocket of her jeans when Banner came over to her and set his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at her with a sad, sad smile. “I’m so very sorry, Max.”

And in that touch, Max knew. She knew what Fury had said.

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“You told them!” Max charged into Nick Fury’s office, the door practically flying off of its hinges in her quest to get inside and strangle him, preferably with his own eyelashes. “Why?” She slid to a stop in front of Fury’s desk, her face contorted into a mask of hate and rage.

Fury looked back at her unblinkingly and shuffled a stack of papers, setting them down on his desk lightly, like a bomb about to explode. If only he treated his operatives the same way… “They needed to know,” he replied calmly, straightening the rest of the trinkets on his very trinket-less desktop as if Max’s rage wasn’t of any consequence.

“They needed to know, huh?” Max placed her hands widespread on the front edge of his desk, leaning in closer to his face, her own twisted into a sneer. “Was it one of your sick social experiments? ‘Hey, let’s tell the team that their new member is a scientific abomination,’” she harshly mimicked Fury’s voice, staring down his one good eye. “‘That’ll get lots of laughs!’” She threw her hands up into the hair and let them fall down to her sides. “You had no right. That was for me to tell.”

“Oh, I have no right?” Fury crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I own you, Max, don’t forget that.”

“You own NOTHING!” Max screamed and focused her rage on the stacks of papers on his desk, pushing them all to the ground, throwing those that escaped into the air. “You,” She stopped for a second and poked a finger at his chest, biting out her words, “Disgust me.” She swiveled on her balls of her feet and marched out, making as much of a mess with the files strewn about the ground as she could. “And I hope you choke on your fucking paperwork, Fury!” She shouted as she left, not daring to look back.

Fury leaned into his chair even more, the springs bouncing him back and balancing his weight as he surveyed the damage, hands clasped and, very clearly, not amused.

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She had finally cooled down when she had taken too many turns than she could count. Headquarters was like a labyrinth to her and she couldn’t bring herself to call for help, so she got frustrated all over again, covering her face with her hands and pulling at her hair, knocking up against the wall before she eventually collapsed on the floor. She used her palms as a buffer and screamed until her lungs were fit to burst, her hair flying everywhere and her spirit torn to pieces.

It was only seven minutes before Steve found her. Record time.

He sat on the opposite wall from her, one knee propping up his right arm, his back against the cool plaster. He waited, not making a sound until Max lifted her head and stared at him, her face streaked with tears and her eyes bleak.