𝐏𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 (marvel fanfic)

Chapter 27

The ride on the quinjet was silent, tension filling the air as they prepared themselves. Natasha spoke with Steve in hushed whispers, going over the plan again, discussing possible deviations. Meanwhile Clint was focused on flying the Quinjet, frowning pensively.

Sarah observed the team in muted silence. Despite their contrasting personalities, the Avengers had found a middle ground to work on, they trusted each other with their backs at the very least. A thin thread of trust bound them all together... Sometimes the edges crumbled, sometimes it twisted around their throat, and sometimes that thread became their only lifeline.

A trust born out of duty. As long as their goals aligned, they would work together.

She could respect that, admire it even. However fragile it seemed, under pressure they would perform what was expected of them. That was probably where they differed, her and them. She couldn't sacrifice herself for this world. She couldn't even sacrifice herself for a friend.

As her thoughts swerved in that direction, a derisive chuckle bubbled in her throat. Her vision seemed to blur as another scene from a time long gone surfaced. A team of teenagers were sitting in a helicopter, legs bouncing, fists clenched, eyes darting everywhere, nervousness building up. And there she was, sitting in the back, blank as a statue, watching over them with a detached coldness.

She had been charged with their supervision. On a mission to test them and see if they qualified to move up a rank in the organization. She was a puppet leader, a giant in the teenagers' eyes and a dog to the higher ups.

Her only mission that day had been to confirm their potential and get rid of any failure.

Everything happened very quickly. They had jumped off the helicopter, the driver remaining flying over the forest, sending her off with a lame joke.

She remembered his crooked smile, the crease of his eyes, a familiar sight that accompanied her on many missions. She never got to know his name, never wanted to learn it. Getting attached in that hellhole was a terrible idea.

Still, his jokes would keep on echoing in her head during the missions. As she curled up on herself in a vent, holding her breath to a minimum for multiple days because her partner messed up and the base got locked down. When she had to entertain an old man, his greasy hands running places only his power allowed. When she spent hours drenched in blood as she swept through innocent people's houses just because they dared betray their leader.

That day had been like any other. A mission that would consume her humanity just a little more, one that would add yet another shackle to her diminishing hope. It was supposed to be quick really, an infiltration, take out the target and blow out the base. Textbook mission, quick and efficient.

Once in, her hands moved quickly, eliminating guards, taking care of her side of the base. She was vaguely aware that her dagger encountered resistance as it cut through the flesh, she felt the pull of the muscle tear under her blade, sensed the hardness of the bone before it cracked. Nothing unusual. Sickeningly familiar. And disturbingly bland. She used to feel bile come up, used to feel a twist in her stomach. But now, nothing but a vague sense of disturbance. A detached realization of how low she had fallen, and how comfortable it seemed down there. Without any complicated guilt to riddle her conscience, nothing but hazy nothingness.

One down. Then another one. And more till she couldn't distinguish the pile of corpses laying at her feet.

Everything had been going well. They died easily. Human life was oh so easily taken away. Just a twist of her wrist and an endless sea of thoughts, of emotions, of complexity and consciousness was cut short. Like a thread she cut with nothing but the careless snap of a scissors. It was too easy. Playing god with the blood-stained hands of a killer.

And then everything came crashing down. Alarms blared, and everything went awry. They had to retreat, so she ran back to their hiding spot, waiting for the rest of the team. Camouflaged in a high tree, she observed the base, face impassive. As time tickled by, she came to one conclusion, they were either dead or would be very soon. She didn't have to wonder much longer as the base blew up before her very eyes, the bits flying everywhere. Another explosion soon followed, a bit further behind her, in a spot she knew to be the helicopter's.

Her hands trembled minutely before she reigned her feelings back in. Maybe he was still alive. But it was too dangerous. Enemies were probably waiting for her there. Maybe she could have saved him, but at what cost? Getting grave injuries meant signing her death warrant. The organization had no use for flawed products. She wouldn't survive more than a day with a debilitating injury, not when hundreds of others were eyeing her place, waiting for her to make a mistake.

With the explosion, the forest was starting to catch on fire. There was no time to lose. And so she left, she ran, without looking back. She hated how quickly she discarded the idea of saving him. The sinking realization of her own disgusting callousness was ignored in favor of surviving another day.

Much later she would learn that the corpses of her entire team had been identified. The helicopter driver died burnt alive, stuck inside and unable to get out. A slow and excruciating death that she could have prevented.

Cause of explosion : unknown. A single line to conclude the fate of one man.

They died easily.

As Sarah looked at the Avengers, that sentence once again appeared in her mind, along with a mixture of repressed feelings. During that time period, her memories were hazy, blurred with forced detachedness. To survive she had become the perfect little soldier. Not having her memories wiped was just as much of a blessing as it was a curse.