Insomnia | Tony Stark

Chapter 2: Labyrinth of memories

"I hope you are not underestimating me," Nora said, a small smirk playing on her lips. 

The training room buzzed with energy, Nora stood at the center, her moon-like silver hair tied in a high ponytail, that gracefully cascaded down her back. Bouncing from one leg to another, her face held a calm look quipped with a smirk. 

Clint chuckled, "Let's see what you have got, Reyes." 

And so, the sparring session started, a method to test her skills-- to know how much power and agility surge in her veins. 

Their movements blurred— swift jabs, calculated dodges. Nora's lithe form weaved through the air, surprising everyone with her agility. Clint's eyebrows shot up; perhaps he'd underestimated her after all.

One thing was clear in everyone's mind, her agility was something not to be taken lightly, each movement fluid and precise, and she looked like she soared in wind. 

"Impressive," he admitted, ducking a roundhouse kick, before grabbing her feet in the air, "But agility won't save you every time."

With a swift motion he twist her leg, she would have landed on her face, if she hadn't freed her foot with a kick, executing a flawless backflip to land several feet away from him "But tricks will,"

Nora was relentless. She ducked, twisted, and countered. Her fists danced; and soon enough she landed a solid hit on Clint's shoulder. He staggered, momentarily off balance. Seizing the opportunity, she swept her legs under him, sending him crashing to the ground. His surprised expression was almost comical.

"That was some good moves," Clint said, Nora forwards her hand as he grasps it standing up. 

"Why, Thank you," 

Natasha although watched her intently, not with the gaze of speculation but suspicion, those moves were a hell lot like the training she had been through it, not exactly but a replica of them for sure. 

Fury had not told them anything about her past-- and now this, Natasha's instincts were rarely wrong, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Nora Reyes than met the eye.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The crescent moon hung up in the sky like a twinkling ornament, lighting up the way for people--even in the darkest hours a light always lit up the sky. But there are moments, moments when no light is seen, the only thing around is eternal darkness, just like a moonless cloudy night.

Laid on the couch in the dimly lit common room, Nora's frame twitch, the open book tightly held in her hands-- describing the agony in her dreams. 

"You are an assassin, your work is to kill people," the man who stood at a towering height of 6'5 said, his grey hairs conveying the amount of his experience, harshly kicked the girl in her guts.

The girl barely thirteen, sprawled on the ground clutch her stomach-- coughing up blood, her eyes were barely open, pain surging through her body, what had she ever done to someone to deserve this, "I don't want to, I am not a kille-" 

But her words were interrupted by her own scream, her neck stings as a single droplet of blood fall down, at the same time as the syringe that clanked on the grey floor.

Her already grey world begins to whirl in a moment of blurriness and dizziness, "You need a good lesson," the cold tone of the voice make her shiver, even in her almost unconscious state.

The black void takes her under it's cold embrace, she was glad that she at least doesn't have to feel the cold hands. 

Her memories flashed, the blood on her hands, the screams of agony of others mixed with her own, the begs, the pleas.

"Please, I beg you."

"But you are my father."

"You are a monster!"

"I have a family to support."

"Follow the orders."

"You deserve this," 

"STOP! Stop! Please-"

Tony who had come downstairs for a cup of coffee to sustain his three-day bout of sleeplessness, was confused when he saw Nora in the common room. The half-finished cup of coffee and the book in her hands retell that she was expecting to stay awake. 

Her labored breathing and death grip on the book gave him enough signs-- that she was suffering through pain, not in the realm of reality but within the confines of her dreams-- something more harrowing than the waking world. Something he suffered through daily basis too. 

"Nora," he said, shaking her gently. "Wake up,"

A warm touch.

Her eyes snapped open, cold sweat lining her forehead, breathing heavily she sat on the couch still disorientated from her unintended slumber. For a fleeting moment, she believed, she was back there-- the cold floor biting her skin. 

"Are you okay?" his voice sound like a distant echo, her mind still trying to find its way out of the labyrinth of memories. 

"Nora, ar-" his words were cut off as she stood abruptly, her eyes haunted. He noticed how she recoiled from his touch.

"I-I am okay," she stuttered, clenching her hands, to stop them from trembling, "Sorry, I-I have to go."

With the words being said, her panic driven self, fled from the common room, leaving Tony standing there who heaved a sigh, before walking forward and picking up the blue shrug that fell down her shoulders. 

His mind raced, as he made himself a cup of coffee, the familiar scent of artisanal cocoa beans helped a little easing the tension in his shoulders. 

Leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping the warm brew, he couldn't help but dwell on the moment Nora had left—the myriad scars etched onto her forearms, a silent testament to her own secrets.