"I retired from that life. I don't even have my suit anymore, the feds took it when I went under house arrest,"
-
After her team was torn apart by a thick packet of paper, Ellie Barton was placed under house arrest. She hoped, that when it was all o...
As soon as I got back to the compound, I ran into Steve. "Hey, E--" He started, but I glared at him. "Shove it, Rogers," I snapped, brushing past him. "I know you're hurting--" He tried again, and I whipped around. Rage pulsed through my veins, causing my face to go hard and my voice like a whip.
"Don't you dare start with that bullshit. Don't you dare say you know what I'm going through. Do you know how it felt to see Tony, living the high life with a family? It felt like a punch in the gut. A reminder of the life I lost five years ago. My entire family, gone in an instant. Not one survivor. I never even got to say goodbye. So don't you dare compare your pain to mine," I spat, then walked away. I was fuming the entire way to the gym. I snatched my boxing cloth, quickly wrapping my hands before changing into a tank-top and some shorts. I slicked back my hair, which was cut to where my jaw started.
I made my way over to a punching bag, getting into position before pounding it. A steady thumping filled the room, flashes passing my vision. Tony falling from the portal. The cartel. The pile of bodies at headquarters.
Ultron's speech. Sokovia. Clint almost dying. The airport battle. Steve yelling at Tanya.
Getting arrested. Being dragged into the battle. Strange giving up the stone. Peter dying. My family, reduced to piles of dust.
My fist slammed into the side, causing a large tear in the leather, sand spilling out of the hole. I still didn't feel any better. Hell, I felt worse. I worked through another punching bag. I threw my anger into every hit.
The next bag didn't last much longer. Tony's words looped in my head. I got my second chance right here, Cap. Can't roll the dice on it. He could. I did. And I paid for it.
I heard someone enter the room as I split my fourth bag. I unhooked it from the clip, flinging it over where the other punching bags were. I glanced at the intruder. Steve. "You know, if you need to talk--" Steve started as I pounded on another bag.
"No thanks. The punching bag's a good enough therapist,"
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