Don't loose your head
The night is dark, and there is no moon in the sky to illuminate the forest even poorly around you. The ground in the foxhole is wet and cold; your rifle is the only thing you find a sense of security in. Bullets start whistling around you like a swarm of alienated bees searching for prey. You crouch deeper and deeper into the hole as if becoming smaller would make you invisible to the horror outside. Desperate screams echo in your ears, laments and prayers extended to a god who does not respond. The bombs fall closer and closer to you like an animal on the prowl, drawing concentric circles that end above you. As suddenly as it started, everything stopped, and no sound reached your ears. Tentatively, you open your eyes, and now the moon shines overhead as if it wanted you to witness the destruction around you; nothing remains of the forest, only smoke and ashes rising to the skies. You stand in the middle of all the destruction, your heart beating wildly and not a soul by your side. The sound of a branch breaking makes you turn towards the noise; a human form is standing a few meters away. The face is familiar, the hair is longer, and the stubble looks scruffy. You know his face, but his lifeless eyes show no sign of the joy they used to. You try to talk to him, but the words get stuck in your throat; the man points his gun at you and shoots.
"NO!"
You sit on the bed with one of your hands clutching your chest. It's hard for you to breathe and sweat mixes with the tears that run down your cheek. You pull your knees up to your chest, cradling your legs in your arms as you place your face against them and cry. You cry until you have no more tears left, or at least you hope so. Since you came back, three months ago, most nights have been like this. Horrible nightmares, followed by uncontrollable tears, sometimes the anguish is such that you cannot breathe. You are drowning and can't find a way to stay afloat.
You sit like that, tightening your arms around your knees more and more as if you could compress yourself and build a shell around your so that nothing touches you while the minutes pass. Maybe it took fifteen minutes. Maybe it took three hours, but eventually, you get to the point where the thought of getting up isn't so difficult. So, moving slowly and paying attention to everything you do, you get out of bed and head to the bathroom. The water in the shower is so hot you could boil a chicken with it, but you don't care because the cold you feel seems to come from your very bones, and scalding water seems to be the only thing that can imbue you with some warmth. While you wash, your hands run over all your scars for the hundredth time. Each is a horrible reminder of what you have seen and experienced. "No wonder the nightmares." You mutter to yourself as if that was the explanation for everything. After getting out of the shower and accepting that you won't be able to fall asleep tonight, you get dressed and head over to Tony's lab.
"You can't sleep, Sparkles." Tony greets you worriedly, and Bruce waves his hand, not lifting his head from the microscope in front of him. "Is there a problem?" "Not really." You lie while shrugging your shoulders. "Lately, it seems like I don't need to sleep as much as I used to, and I was hoping you could teach me more about computers and the Internet. It gets boring sitting on my butt all day, watching movies." Tony stares at you, and Bruce raises his head, and they look at each other. You know they didn't believe a single word you just said, but you try to put on your best face. "You know you can tell us anything, Victoria, right?" Bruce walks over and puts a supportive hand on your shoulder. You swallow the small lump in your throat and stand up, pretending to have a strength you don't really have. "Of course, Bruce. But I can't keep doing anything. I'm going to go crazy."
"And crazy, in your case, is NO BUENO," Tony says, smiling as he puts an arm around your shoulders. You roll your eyes in mock anger, but a smile appears on your lips. "Come on, Space Guardian, let's put some future in your brain. If you behave and don't try to electrocute Jarvis again," "That was just one time, and I didn't do it on purpose; frustration got the better of me. And that was months ago." you complain. "I know, and that's why Bruce and I had to readjust your bracelet. Like I said, if you behave, I have a surprise for you later." You nod and get to work.
Many hours and liters of coffee later, you look up from the screen and raise your arms, stretching, trying to move your rigid muscles. "Tony, I think I found the back door you mentioned." He raises his head and moves his lips, but you don't hear what he says; that's when you realize you still have your headphones on, and Queen is blaring in your ears. "Tony, what were you saying?" You ask, cutting off the sound. "I'm here; you don't have to yell at me." You smile, embarrassed. He walks over and looks at the screen. Bruce also stands behind you. "Awesome Victoria. You're learning so fast. Did you mask the IP?" You nod. "Well done, now get out of there before Fury realizes we're trying to hack Shield's database." You type something and close all systems in your notebook. Bruce raises a hand and gives you a high five. "Drinks on me tonight. But Tony picked up the place." He says with a horrified look on his face. "Hey, why the face?" Tony complains you and Bruce roll your eyes.
"Well, since you've been such a good student. It's time for your surprise." Tony heads to the elevator, and you follow him, curious to what he's up to. The elevator takes you both to the training floor, but he doesn't stop at the rows of equipment, instead continuing to a door you hadn't crossed before. Inside, there is a shooting range six or seven cabins perfectly aligned and with everything necessary for practice. Your eyes shine with excitement. It's been so long since you touched a weapon that your fingers tingle with anticipation. Tony stops at the fourth booth and hands you a gun that looks like plastic. When you hold it, you realize it is more than that; it feels like a real gun. You don't see any magazines or bullets around, but the weight is the same. "It is a practice weapon. This weapon feels like a typical firearm in the same way you're used to, but it doesn't fire projectiles. When you shoot, it emits a pulse that gets registered on the target. When it reaches thirteen pulses, the weapon discharges, and you have to pull this tab and put it back to recharge." Tony explains slowly, and you nod. "It is very clever, Tony. There's no chance of accidents, but it's good practice." Despite his bombastic facade, you can see in Tony the same kindness and care as Howard. That thaws your bones a little, and you smile gratefully at him. "Thank you." "Yes, well. Don't break anything, please." He says ironically and turns to leave; he stops at the door and turns to look at you. "My father would have wanted me to take care of you. Take all the time you need." You nod and smile sadly as he leaves; deep down, you know the last sentence has nothing to do with target practice.
"You seem to know your way around that." Nat's voice sounds behind you, surprising you a little. She is standing with her back against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, and one leg bent with the bottom of her shoe touching the wall. Although she appears calm and peaceful, it's evident that she is ready to spring into action at any moment. Despite appearing relaxed, her posture exudes readiness like a coiled spring, always prepared to unleash at the right moment. "You're good at sneaking around in the shadows too." "Tricks of the trade," she says with a shrug. You smile at each other in silent greeting. "How have you been?" It's your turn to shrug, "Fine, I guess." She looks at you knowingly and nods. "And you? How was the mission?" You ask her, aware that you won't get a clear response from her, only a string of vague replies. "Vini, vidi, vinci. I guess." You snort at the reference to the Roman general. Nat stares at you, and you hold her gaze. Long minutes pass, until the two of you burst into laughter that echoes off the walls.
"It's good to see you Nat." You approach her and properly greet her now with a hug; as you squeeze her in your arms, you feel her really relax. "It's good to see you well, Victoria. What decade are you in now?" Tony convinced you a few months ago that you had to "catch up" to the times you're living in. He personally instructs you in everything technology related; Bruce shared with you his ever-extensive list of "movies you have to see before you die"; while Nat, and sometimes Clint, are taking care of your "musical education" as they like to call it. "Late '70s, early '80s." She nods proudly.
"Follow me." She motions you towards the door with a nod. You follow her to an open space in the middle of the training room and watch in horror as she assumes an offensive stance. "Next stage in your education. Hand-to-hand combat." She tells you with a smirk. "Are you crazy? I have dress pants, heels, and a shirt." She shrugs, "When a fight breaks out, you won't always be comfortable or prepared. Lesson number 1." Without giving you time to react, Nat attacks you in a whirlwind of arms and legs, you manage to dodge the first blow, but she kicks your legs away, and you end up with your butt on the ground. "Lesson number 2. Always be aware of your opponent." You look up and take the hand she offers to get up; this is going to be a long morning.