You Call It Charm, I Call It Arrogance
The next heist is for a military underground weapons base. The main problem is Scorch originally had it planned out for Demolition’s involvement. Now with her replaced by a person he thinks has ‘useless’ powers, he’s been throwing a hissy fit while struggling to work around the change in membership.
The thing is, when Scorch is in a bad mood he makes sure everyone else is too. After he’s done unfairly yelling at the new recruit – Optic is what she has named herself – he spins on his heels and marches off to prepare himself.
“Is he always like this?” She whispers to you, leaning close, eyes still flickering off to where Scorch has run off to. You glance over her features; her golden brown skin and almond-shaped hazel eyes pair together beautifully. Must use expensive moisturiser because she’s practically shining. You’d hate to lose this one, so you’ll give her a rundown and hope for the best.
“Look. Genesis runs the Sinister Squad, and you never, and I mean never speak to him unless you’re spoken to. Or you’ll end up like Demolition.” You warn her, raising both of your brows high as a warning.
Her expression scrunches in confusion. “How’d she–”
You interrupt, answering her question before she’s even asked it. “He ripped her heart out with his powers, and the sound it made when it dropped was gross. Seriously, it was disgusting.” A shiver runs through your body at the memory. You shake it off, blinking the chilling visual out of your mind. You wouldn’t wish that fate upon anyone.
“Damn. I–I don’t know if I can do this.” She stutters, fear filling her beautiful, saucered eyes.
Your brows draw together as you lean forward to place a comforting hand over her shoulder. She leans into the touch rather than flinching from it, surprisingly.
“Hey, no, don’t do–Look, you’re already here. You’ve seen our plans, you’ve been chosen to join. He won’t let you leave.” You shoot her a sympathetic half-smile, trying to keep your voice low in case anyone around is listening in. “So just keep your head down, do your job, and stay out of trouble. Scorch is second-in-command, but we all fuck with him anyway. Just gotta be careful about when to push his buttons because he can be dangerous on his bad days. But I got your back.” After you finish your explanation and rundown you lean back and drop your hand, seeing a relieved smile on her face at your spoken protection.
“Thanks. You’re sweet.” She says quietly, tilting her head as her eyes scan your features with curiosity.
Your brow shoots up teasingly as you shake your head. “Oh, no, I’m just British.” You chuckle softly, poking fun at yourself for once. You’re sure Bullet is somewhere in the distance cackling.
She rolls her eyes as you laugh and stand up, stretching your back with your arms raised high. “Okay, I no longer like you.” She says with eyes that twinkle with playfulness.
“Ouch. You wound me, darlin’. Come on, let’s go get ready.”
It only takes you a quick 10 minutes to get ready. It would have taken you longer if Scorch wasn’t yelling at the top of his lungs, forcing everyone to hurriedly pack their needed weapons. All you ever pack is your headphones and iPod but unfortunately, you haven’t had the time to buy a new set yet.
“No singing today?” Bullet teases, nudging his shoulder against yours. Optic looks up from her lap, curious about the team dynamics here.
“Nope. Gave my shit to that kid, remember?” You remind him, sighing and tapping your fingers on the metal under the bench. The back of the van is a little less cramped than usual; Demolition used to take up almost two seats with the sheer amount of muscles all over her body.
There are a few moments of silence in the van until Bullet clears his throat. “The warden threw a party in the county jail!” He wails out in a horribly pitchy tone, his voice cracking a little. Your face cringes no matter how hard you try to fight it; he sounds like a dying seal.
“I really hate this song.” Blackout mumbles but flashes you a small half-smile, letting you know she kind of misses your singing too and Bullet is super cute for continuing your ritual.
“The prison band was there and they began to wail.” You continue less enthusiastically than you usually are, but your quiet voice still has Blackout and Bullet smiling fondly.
“Shut the fuck up.” Scorch grumbles from the driver's seat, banging his fist behind him against the barrier. He’s in one of his moods and you’re not in a particularly great one either, so you sit silently, head hanging in boredom.
The team manage to get underground with efficiency and ease, silent for the main part. Optic has a chance to play and show off her powers as she stands guard with you. While Bullet sprints around, gathering the weapons from a variety of passed-out and still-shooting agents, Optic shoots you a smirk, swirling her hands before her magic trick starts.
“Woah.” You mumble, bullets pinging and bouncing off your steel body as you watch the show with fascination. She duplicates realistic copies of herself, appearing around every agent with a cocky smirk. Bullet uses their shock and hesitation to his advantage as they shoot wildly, taking that opportunity while they’re confused to knock them out.
“Impressed?” She asks you with a bashful half-smile as you lean against a wooden crate with your arms crossed over your chest.
“Totally, mate. Is it just an illusion or…?” You trail on curiously, turning back to your human form when a copy of her appears right next to her in front of you. Both raise a hand, fingers delicately brushing over your cheeks. Oh. That’s… “Hot.” You mutter without proper thought, cheeks turning pink at your impulsive word. Perfect white teeth shine as she bites her bottom subtly, her copy fading.
“Stop messing around. Optic, use your…copy duplicate persons to carry the rest of these.” Scorch barks out his orders, stuttering for a moment not knowing what to call Optic’s powers. “Steel, stay guard until I order you to come to the van.”
“Order you.” You mock in a quiet voice as Optic stifles her laughter. She listens to him either way, taking your earlier words into account: keep your head down and stay out of trouble. That means listening to orders, even if they’re from douchey Scorch.
With a bored sigh, you stroll deeper into the underground facility towards where the agents were coming from. You don’t love being left alone with your thoughts, and that’s usually the case when you don’t have music to drown them out. It starts with flashes of memories you don’t want to remember, then screams of civilians terrified of you; their screams eventually blend with the cries of scientists during the explosion.
It wasn’t the only time you had regretted joining the MI6; there had been plenty of missions where you were left covered in blood, metaphorical or not, sitting with a hanging head and trembling hands. You always wondered whether you were on the right side of things, or if you even have the right to do what you do. You’d been given sessions with psychologists on the regular, just to ensure you were still in the ‘right headspace’. They always told you to never put the blame on yourself because you simply follow orders. But that doesn’t make it right.
Everyone has a choice. And choosing to follow orders you don’t believe in is still a choice you make. It’s something you’re still doing today, from one terrorist organisation to another; the only difference is one is branded as legal and the other is not. It’s all the same.
“Steel. Stay right where you are.”
Snapping your head to the side as you’re pulled out of your thoughts, you squint to look into the darkness at the hidden voice. But you already know who it is. You’d usually freeze in your spot at her voice, always so careful and cautious in the way you interact with her. But this time, feeling brave, you casually lean against an empty crate with a smirk firmly planted on your face.
“Aw. Then how will I get a kiss?” You tease with a high brow, eyes flickering with every sound: a footstep, the clocking of a gun, rusty and creaky shelves swaying with the calm wind coming from an open door.
“Come here, then. I dare you.” Her low, husky voice steadily echoes in the darkness.
But you stand your ground, keeping the tone easy and playful. “Oh, are we gonna fight?” You excitedly anticipate, grinning wolfishly when she appears through the shadows. She’s wearing a different bodysuit this time with blue streaks down her hips which your eyes greedily appreciate. “Do your thigh move, I’m so ready for it.” You joke, biting your bottom lip as you push off the crate you were leaning against.
“You’re repulsive.” She rolls her emerald eyes but even a blind person would see the red rising up her neck and tinting her cheeks.
“Is that why you’re blushing?” You accuse with narrowed eyes, grinning when the gun in her hand becomes unsteady.
“W–What? I’m not–Stop it!” The redhead scolds you and you can’t help the laughter escaping your throat. Bashfulness is not something she feels regularly but it’s all she feels around you and your charming words, invasive eyes, and knowing smirk.
You circle her with your hands held together behind your back, the sound of your steps echoing loudly in this silence. “God, you’re cute. You know that, right?” You lean in to whisper bravely into her ear. “Oh, of course you do. The infamous Black Widow. Come use your moves of seduction on me, I guarantee they’ll work.” They already are, you want to say, but you keep that hidden deep within yourself.
You jump back with a chuckle when she threatens you with her gun poking your abdomen. Her threats mean nothing when her eyes are filled with amusement and…maybe desire. A little – not that she’d ever admit it.
“Idiot.” She mumbles in annoyance but she bites her lip to try to contain the soft smile threatening to break out.
Your finger points to her as her eyes widen in self-realisation, holding her gun tighter. “Ah! Is that a smile? God, and just when I thought you couldn’t get cuter.” You sigh dramatically with a content smile of your own, strolling back and hopping up to sit on the crate.
The hero’s brows furrow as she tilts her head, taking a moment to look over you. Your nonchalance as your legs swing has her dropping her gun to her side, but she keeps it in her hand, finger firmly on the trigger. The redhead seems at conflict within herself, her jaw tightening every few seconds while her eyes go from narrow to wide and open.
“Since you’re in a talkative mood…” She trails off, mumbling before clearing her throat and standing with a straighter back. “Can I ask why you do this?” She asks curiously. It’s…not actually a difficult question to answer. But while you flirt with her on occasion, she’s still the hero and you’re still the villain. Telling her your deepest and darkest secrets is surely against the unspoken rules, right? Perhaps you’ve already crossed a few lines there so crossing another won’t make a difference.
“Do what? Flirt? Because I'm attracted to you.” You answer simply, switching the direction of the conversation. Her cheeks blush again, grip loosening on her gun; you can see with your peripheral vision but you don’t want to glance down in case she thinks you’re going to attack her. You would never dream of it. Something deep down but with powerful influence stops you from doing so.
“I–No, I meant this whole vil–Are you actually, or are you stalling?” The green-eyed beauty stutters, casually resting her gun-holding hand on her hip as she switches her sentence halfway, suddenly interested in your confession. It’s surprising how she’s letting her guard down, but you’re definitely not running away from it, from her. Those eyes are practically hypnotising you – that’s what you tell yourself, at least, because living in denial is one of your favourite things to do.
“Are there people out there who aren’t?” You say quietly, eyes flickering to her full, pink lips. It’s meant to be a playful joke but there’s a little too much seriousness in your tone than you intended.
“I don’t–Uh, I…” She stutters again, a moment of silence following her as you wait for her to finish her thought. But she keeps stuttering, face flushed as she stares into your eyes and loses her train of thought. Maybe you’re the one hypnotising her and that’s kind of making you…feel things. Powerful, dangerous things.
“Wow. I've made the Black Widow speechless. My life is complete.” You hold your arms out theatrically, fists thrown in the air victoriously.
And with the roll of those bright green eyes, you know the moment’s over. “God, you’re annoying.” She mumbles as you hop off the crate, stepping closer to her but keeping a fair amount of distance.
“Annoyingly charming, right?” Your arms cross over your chest as she looks you up and down.
She retorts. “You call it charm, I call it arrogance.”
You gasp at her words, holding a hand to your heart. You’re definitely a little offended, but she doesn’t know you. And part of you suddenly wants her to.
You burst into a self-defensive ramble. “Ouch! I am a lot of things, darlin’, but arrogant is not one of them! I am deeply insecure, did you know that? Arrogance my ass. My nose is bent a little, here, look! See? I fell off the monkey bars when I was a kid and–Hey!” Your speech is cut off by metal wrapping around your wrists. “What the hell? I was opening up to you!” You argue, putting up a fight – it’s more of a show than anything. What you really want is to turn around and get a look at her face to see if she actually wanted to arrest you. You’re met with darkened green eyes and steady brows that flinch just slightly. That’s enough for a half-smile to take over your expression.
“You’re coming with me,” She lets go as she steps back, looking down and placing her gun into the holster, “and you’re going to tell me everything you–” her head flies up at the sound of the snapping cuffs, “–know. Shit.” She quickly shoots at your back as you run off, but she knows it won’t do anything to you. She can only watch as you run around the corner, your middle finger popping out from behind the wall once before disappearing. “She got away.” Natasha mutters into the comms, hiding her amused snort pretty well with a cough.
“4th time! Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony yells into the comms annoyedly but Natasha pays him no mind. Her eyes are stuck to the darkness where your figure disappeared. She knows that was unprofessional of her. Very unprofessional. But something about you just has her freezing up, turning into a blushing mess. She sighs heavily, hands resting on her hips. She has a lot to think about. Maybe she should go back to therapy.
“I guess now we know cuffs don’t work on her.”
“What I don’t get is why they always go for you!” Scorch yells angrily, slamming the door of the warehouse shut. “You’re not a high level–No, you’re not even essential to the Sinister Squad. You’re fucking replaceable.”
He’s been raging ever since you jumped into the van and told him to speed up. Or, in his words, wrongly ‘ordered’ him to. Seems like his ego has been bruised – again, big whoop – and he’s throwing a fit over it. On brand.
“Say that again when I’m the only thing stopping you from becoming burnt swiss cheese.” You growl with a roll of your eyes. The red in his cheeks dissipates a little as his eyes narrow.
“What?” He asks, confusion taking over the anger on his expression.
“Swiss cheese? The one with holes in it? Bullet holes, and you burn? You dense fucking idiot.”
Scorch doesn’t appreciate your hissed tone as he throws his jacket onto the ground after tugging it off. “Why the fuck would I know what Swiss cheese looks like?! This is America!” He argues back, filled with violent rage.
Your loud burst of laughter takes over the big space, echoing in the warehouse. Optic and Blackout start laughing softly too, the latter trying to contain it but it quickly turns into a snort. She disappears after her cheeks burn red in embarrassment at the sound.
“Christ, what is up with Americans and their lack of global awareness? Do you really think the world revolves around–”
“Popcorn?” Bullet asks Optic, suddenly appearing with a bowl of popcorn in his hands, a considerable amount flying out from his speed.
“Shut up, Bullet!” You and Scorch yell simultaneously.
“Quiet.”
Genesis silences the whole warehouse. It’s eerie the way silence takes over; if you listen close enough you could even hear the sudden sound of howling wind. His steps echo as he walks slowly to the squad before coming to a stop next to Scorch. He towers over the red-faced man, leaning down to whisper. But it’s loud enough for everyone to hear anyway in the tense silence.
“If you have to prove you have power…then you don’t have it.”
You can tell Scorch is fuming at that. If you stare hard enough you’re sure you’ll see steam coming out of his big ears.
Genesis walks to the large table, standing next to the whiteboard; everyone practically runs to the table after him, sitting down and waiting for him to start the meeting. Scorch is the last one at the table, making a show to scrape the chair on the ground to show his discontent. He knows Genesis will allow it just because he’s a good asset to the team. No one else can burn through every possible door that would get in your way.
“Steel.” He addresses you, looking into your eyes as they lock together. Your hands turn into pale white fists in fear, not knowing if you’ll get punished for your anger. Or if you’ll end up like Demolition and every other member before her. “Well done.”
You let out the breath you were holding, almost laughing at the relief you feel. “Thank you?” You state in confusion.
Blackout snorts from the seat next to you, disappearing when you glare at her.
Genesis looks you in the eyes, his uncomfortably bright blues reading your every twitch, every shift in expression, every flicker and glint in your eyes. “You need to gain her trust. So we can destroy them from within.” He reveals his plan and you use all the restraint you have to keep your emotions in check.
Natasha? You have to…to manipulate Natasha, lie to her, gain her trust just to break it in the end. You’re well aware that it shouldn’t bother you as much as it is, but you’d rather hide those conflicting feelings for now.
You let out a soft huff in disbelief. “Woah, hold on. Are we actually going after the Avengers?” You question, careful not to sound as stupid as Demolition did. It can’t seem like you’re going against him.
Genesis tilts his head, eyes boring into yours, ready to do what he needs to if you express your opposition to him. “Yes. We are. It will take time and patience. But we will all be relying on you.”
Scorch lets out a loud scoff, his hand landing on the table a little too hard for it to be an accident. “On her? What, so all of a sudden she’s–”
Genesis finishes Scorch’s sentence. “Second in command. Congratulations.” Scorch storms out literally on fire before Genesis walks slowly towards you, leaning down and resting a light but threatening hand on your shoulder. “You will be my eyes and ears. Do not let me down.”
Oh. Oh, this is bad.