𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 ✘ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅

{2⁵} {FUNERAL FLOWERS}

∆ {2⁵} {FUNERAL FLOWERS} ∆

THE HINGES ON Roxi's mind had begun to loosen. The trapdoor, which before had been firmly fixed, would now swing up a little way if someone rattled it. She'd started to let certain people in, although only to an extent. Even Natasha (who was by far the closest to her), she would only let in a certain amount. She liked to imagine that under the shaky trapdoor, lay a glass jar with a candle inside, which represented her powers. The feeble flame, which barely survived in the jar but did somehow, was white and would leap and jump every time a loud noise surprised her. Whenever she thought of her powers, she associated it with simply white. White like that cloudy feeling that had risen inside her at New York, white like the lilies that are used as funeral flowers, white the bones of all the people she'd killed, and the colour of the feathers on some of those people's angel wings as they watched her from heaven. Rarely, the flame would sputter and almost die, but then a spark would bring it roaring back to life as if the driest kindling in the world had been set alight, and a small pain would jolt through her head. It wasn't too intense, but it almost always caught her off guard and the shock added to the pain a little.

Sometimes, when she was fired up, the strange white flame that cast no shadows would flare up and begin to push off the lid of the jar, and Roxi would start to lose control. All she could do was grit her teeth, while being as focused as she could on what she was doing, and screw the lid down firmly, util the flame grew small and spluttered slightly. 

She did that now, staring down the barrel of an assault rifle, waiting for none other than Jasper Sitwell, one of the HYDRA scum who had infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D and made her feel the most vulnerable she had in years. Even Natasha being there didn't ease the anger and unsettling disappointment she felt in the pit of her stomach, which burrowed deeper every moment they sat there waiting to make their move. She was strangely good at hiding her emotions, even from Natasha. It may have had something to do with her discordant childhood, but the main reason was that she was afraid. She was afraid someone would take advantage of the feelings that raged inside her just like the white flame, so she hid the fear too. It was the only thing she could do, and she did it to protect herself mainly, which was rather selfish, but it was also because she didn't know if she could deal with the emotions well, and that wouldn't be fair on the people around her.

But thankfully, their waiting was over, and Sitwell emerged from his building with another HYDRA agent talking to him quietly. Sam sat in a cafe a little way away, sipping on a drink and punching Sitwell's number into his phone, which they had masked as Pierce's. Roxi had suggested using one of the cheap flip phones she'd bought for exactly this sort of thing, but Sam had refused. They had managed to get his equipment with unusual ease, as Steve broke through the wall and Natasha and Roxi had grabbed the machine. As Sam started speaking, Roxi carefully aimed the gun where it was supposed to be, waiting until the right moment to turn on the laser marker, as she listened to Sam through their comms. 

"Yes, sir?" Sitwell answered the phone. He was nervous, his hands had been shaking when he saw the name on the phone screen, and Roxi guessed that Pierce held a huge amount of power in HYDRA; how else would Insight have been a success?

"Agent Sitwell, how was lunch? I hear the crab cakes here are delicious," Sam greeted casually, pulling down his sunglasses as he fixed his gaze on the HYDRA agent. 

"Who is this?" Sitwell asked, stiffening up as he spoke quietly into his phone. 

"Good looking guy in the sunglasses, your 10 o'clock," Sam started, causing Sitwell to look around confused, "your other 10 o'clock.. There you go." He finished as Sitwell found him. Sam lifted his drink as a greeting before he continued.