The Weight of Us ｡ Peter Parker [3]

29 - Homebound

Matthew Murdock always liked to grumble about what it took to become a good fighter. It wasn't about how quick you could throw a punch, or how much muscle lined your biceps. The very best fighters knew what to expect, to always predict your opponent's next move.

Elliott Mercer may have been the world's best spy, a sneaky double agent that only ever lived by her own rules. She may have been a pretty face with a wicked backhand and a bubblegum popping badass that fell for morally grey men alike. She may have spent the last handful of years on the run, bouncing from country to country with one eye always on an exit. But she was not without weakness and those deep cuts to her soul were the best advantages in a fight.

Her gun felt cold against the back of my skull and I waited for her to pull the trigger, but she hesitated, her eyes snapping towards Beck, who continued to smile like the world was his throne and he was ready to collect his crown. Slowly, I raised my hands, keeping my gaze steady on Peter Parker, who had frozen in the midst of his plan of attack. Fear flicked back and forth in his eyes.

Summoning my courage, the tiny flame of fire Daredevil had helped ignite, I raised my eyebrows for Peter, a jerked motion for him to decipher. Barely missable, he shook his head, a tiny response to my unspoken idea. My lips perked up, just a little bit and I could almost feel him begging me not to do something stupid.

"You won't shoot me, Agent 47," I heard her finger curl against the trigger, but she stayed silent, accessing the situation. Her free hand gripped my shoulder, guiding me away from Peter and Beck very slowly. "Would your sister still look up to you if she knew you were pointing guns at kids?" I asked, venom on my lips. 

Elliott slipped with the question. The second was enough, just barely, and my fingers found her hand against my shoulder. Visions from her life scattered through my mind again, but unlike last time, they were riddled with the people she loved more than herself. With her tainted memories, it twisted the odds in my favour. Just as quickly as the flashes had come, I twisted away from her grip in one swift motion.

"How'd you know—" Elliott started, her eyes flamed with a sparkling anger.

Beck shouted from behind us. "Elle, just shoot her already."

I raised my hands into tight fists, ready for a fight. I heard Matthew's familiar words circle around in my head on a loop that could sooth me to sleep. Being a good fighter isn't always about how hard you can throw a punch, or how you take a hit. Most of the time it's all about predicting what's coming next.

Peter jolted backwards as Beck pushed free. "Don't touch her!"

Elliott tucked away her gun, safe and sound at her hip and mimicked my stance. "Let's make this a fair fight, Kitten." We circled each other slowly. I calculated the reach of Elliott's arm span, how many steps she took and where her eyes landed.

Behind us, drones barricaded around Beck. He taunted Peter with a sharp laugh. "You want the glasses, come and get them."

In a flare of blue light, another illusion, Beck vanished. Peter sent a single glance over his shoulder in my direction. He didn't have to speak for me to understand what was racing around in his head right now. I jerked down my chin, a fraction of a movement and the only notion he needed before springing into action and facing Beck's only power of twisting the truth to his own advantage.

Elliott lunged forward, quick and lethal. Her fist struck my shoulder, pain dripping in waves as I twisted way. Allowing her to make a hit was the play. Dropping to my knees, my leg kicked at her shines and she wobbled slightly, a glare fresh in her eyes. Her next punch came towards my ribcage but I jerked to the side just as easily.