Hunted
When Steve opened his eyes, he wasn't expecting to be surrounded by white walls. The scene felt all too familiar, especially considering that the last time this happened, he had just woken up from a seventy year nap. He looked around, scanning the area as he realized that he was currently in a hospital room, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Part of him was nervous that he had slept for another seventy years, but it was only a few seconds later that memories of the past twenty four hours flooded back into his mind.
Steve had went in to interview Stiles, but only minutes into talking to him, the teenager slammed his hands on the table and then everything had went dark. He let out a groan as he realized that a kid- who Steve happened to be twice the size of- was able to knock him out in a matter of seconds. It was truly disheartening.
"Look who's finally up." Steve quickly turned towards the voice, his eyes landing on Sam.
"How long was I out?" He questioned.
"Few hours." Sam shrugged. "Kid got away after he electrocuted the shit out of you."
That was exactly what Steve hoped wouldn't happen.
"Any leads?"
"Fury has a few agents out looking for him, but a majority was stuck here trying to get the power back on. Lucky for you that you didn't need any medical attention, because the power only came back on an hour ago." Sam explained.
"How'd the power go out?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Dude, you missed so much." Sam stated. "After Stiles took you out, he basically shut down the Iron Man suit- with Tony inside. Then he drained the whole building."
Steve was surprised. He has to admit, when he first saw the kid, he really didn't think that Stiles looked like much. He was scrawny, and he looked exhausted. But one thing that he should've realized was that he was like that at one point. Actually, he used to be even scrawnier. He shook his head slightly, knocking himself for underestimating the teenager the same way everyone used to underestimate him. The line between sympathizing with him and not justifying his actions was becoming blurry.
"How're you feeling?" Sam questioned, giving him a look as Steve sat up.
Honestly, he felt fine. Just like he took a long nap, not that he was electrocuted.
"Peachy." He mumbled, sitting up. Steve shook the hospital blankets off of his body, silently thanking whoever figured it was a good idea not to stuff an IV in his arm.
"You woke up at the right time, dude," Sam stated. "Fury wants to send ya'll in to get the kid, no one's really sure what kinda threat he is yet."
Steve raised an eyebrow at his friend's words, unsure if they were relevant or not. He pursed his lips in thought, thinking idly of whether or not Stiles was an actual threat.
-
While Stiles was freezing, sickly, and pissed at the world, he realized that he really wasn't above breaking into a children's community center at one o'clock in the morning. He rationalized that, in a way, he was still a child, so he was entitled to a children’s center. The weather was causing some violent shivers to rack his body- which, in a way, was a good thing. If he learned anything from sleepwalking out of his house on the coldest day in Beacon Hills, it was that shivering was a good sign that he didn't have hypothermia.
Though, that didn't stop him from hating it. His clothes were beyond drenched and his hair was matted against his forehead, and to make things worse, the rain water dripping down his face and into his eyes. Every step he took was accounted for because his shoes made a squeaking sound each time they touched the pavement. The noise was becoming extremely annoying, but it wasn't like he could take his shoes off.
He needed to get into the building.
Stiles crossed around the community center, avoiding the front door where there would most likely be security cameras. He decided to walk around back, where he prayed there would be a door. A grin of relief, and possibly manic exhaustion, crossed his face as he was met with a dark door. Stiles jiggled the door knob, the fake gold stiff and unmoving in his hands- a tell-tale sign that it was locked. Okay, great. He didn’t have anything to pick the lock with.
It was definitely a little difficult not to let out a celebratory whoop when his eyes landed on a slightly opened window, but he was able to hold it in. The only downfall to his satisfactory was that the bottom of the window was about three feet taller than Stiles was. It sat above the door, which gave the possibility of standing on the door knob to reach it, however, the knob was only big enough for only one of his feet and it was slick with rain water.
Stiles looked around, a cough leaving his mouth as he scanned the back area for anything that could be stacked. The cardboard boxes against the chain link fence? No, they were sodden by the rain. The broken bricks that were scattered around the perimeter? Not enough of them. There wasn't anything else, or at least, from what Stiles was able to see. And it wasn't like he could just stand on his backpack, it was would shrink down from his body weight.
The doorknob solution was looking like more an option by the second.
Stiles turned, pacing back and forth as he tried to figure out what the best line of action would be. The heavy rain shrunk to a drizzle, though it was still enough to add to his constant shivers. He had to make a decision, and he had to make it soon. His eyes fluttered back towards the doorknob, mumbling a soft "Fuck it," under his breath as he crossed over towards the door.
Stiles held his breath as he tried his best to grip the side panels of the locked door, hesitantly bringing his right foot up. The bottom of his shoe hovered over the golden door knob, his heart beating a thousand times faster as it slowly descended upon the knob. He reluctantly pushed himself up, balancing unsteadily on the small object. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion as he gradually slid his hands up the sides.
Stiles breathed a short sigh of relief as his fingertips met the bottom of the cracked window. He was able to grip the bottom of the window pane and push the window up wide enough for his body, but his luck seemed to end there as another cough shook his whole body, causing his foot to slip right off the slippery door knob.
In a matter of seconds, his forehead slammed onto the top of the door and he was left dangling, the only thing keeping him from fully falling back to where he started was his grip on the bottom of the window. He was breathing heavily, his head spinning as his legs frantically scraped against the door, looking desperately for the handle.
It seemed like forever before he was stable, his foot now planted back on the door handle. His head and chest were throbbing and his hands were aching, but he couldn't give up. Not when he was so close. Stiles mustered up all the strength he could find, pulling himself up just enough to fit his torso through the opening.
It would've been nice to say that his fall into the building was graceful, but it really wasn't. He landed with a thud onto the floor, right on his back, and just as quickly as he hit the ground, he started coughing uncontrollably. But nothing could beat the uncontrollable bliss that he felt when he realized he made it. He was inside.
Stiles must've laid there for at least ten minutes, just staring at the ceiling, an occasional shutter from the itchy ache he felt from both his forehead and chest. He was delighted to note how the floor was cool against the skin on his hands, not like the way the rain had been though. And how the building was warm, heating up his freezing body.
Once he finally picked himself up off the ground, he went in search of some kind of lost and found or locker room. He was in desperate need of something warm to wear. His current clothes were sticking against his skin, and he was freezing. Hopefully this place has a bathroom with a hand dryer.
Only five minutes into his expedition and Stiles finally slid his socks and shoes off, sick of the squeaking sound they were making against the tile floor. The community center was pretty big, full of rooms dedicated to arts and crafts, theatre arts, technology. There was even one that held kitchenette stations, most likely for cooking classes, maybe he would find some food there.
Still, there was no sign of a front desk that would hold a lost and found, or a locker that might hold extra clothes. He was beginning to lose hope. It also didn't help that his forehead still held an uncomfortable ache. The discomfort pushed Stiles to bring his fingers up to the spot that had hit the edge of the door, slightly surprised when he felt a small laceration.
"Son of a bitch." He groaned. "Because there's literally no way I can catch a break." Stiles was so close to punching the nearest wall.
The only thing keeping him from committing such an act was his knowledge of his ability to take the power out of an entire building. It was an actual miracle that he hadn't caused any problems just by touching the door or the window. And yes, while he was ecstatic by the variety of his powers, he was also wary on what else he didn't know he could do. (Maybe he was paranoid?)
-
His reflection was mocking him. Yet he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from it.
Stiles stood in front of a bathroom mirror, dressed in only a pair of black boxers, staring intensely at his reflection. A black duffel bag sat on the counter, filled with stolen clothes Stiles had found in one of lockers in the athletic room that was connected to the bathroom. He couldn't find the strength to bring his gaze away from his reflection. He just looked so...different.
His hair was longer and shaggier, and it fell onto his forehead, just above his eyebrows. Some strands stuck up, and would not go back down no matter how soaked with water it was. It really was a true difference from a month ago, when he would style his hair.
He was thinner, and not in a healthy way either, well, unless you count being able to see your ribs healthy. His hip bones jutted out, very noticeable over the top of his boxers, and his legs were thin. He didn't look healthy at all. He kind of looked like a skeleton.
He lifted his gaze once more, his hazel eyes glancing over his face. His cheekbones were more prominent now, as was his jawline. The cut on his forehead brought a line of color on his ghostly face. He didn't look like himself. At all.
Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, blindly reaching his hand forward in search of the white t-shirt he had stolen from a random locker. Once his fingers rubbed against soft material, he finally opened his eyes, comforted at the sight of the baggy t-shirt. He quickly pulled it on, doing anything to cover the monstrosity that was his body.
He really couldn't bring himself to feel bad as he pulled on the pair of black joggers that were neatly folded in the gym bag, the stolen items were all of the Nike brand. Whoever he stole the clothes from had enough money to buy some more. He looked in the mirror at his appearance once again, noting how the clothes were baggy on him, but they were comfortable, so it didn't matter.
The realization that the items wouldn't be enough to keep him warm was pushed to the back of his head as he pulled the stolen grey hoodie over his head, marveling at the feeling of the soft, clean fabric on his arms.
For once, since his escape from Eichen House, he was the slightest bit happy.
Stiles picked up the empty duffel bag- slightly disappointed that there was no shoes or socks- setting it on the farther side of the counter before lifting his soaked clothes from the ground.His plan was to dry his clothes the best he could with the bathroom's hand dryer, and then put them into the duffel. It would be easier to carry, and there was much more space. A yawn left his mouth as he held his red sweatshirt underneath the drier, leaning against the wall as he waited for the item to get at least remotely dry. He repeated his work for about an hour. Who knew clothes would be so hard to dry? Suddenly, he was grateful for clothes dryers. What an amazing invention.
As he was working on his jeans, he let his head rest against the wall. Stiles had meant to only close his eyes for a second, just to rest them as he waited for the pants to dry, but the next thing he knew, it was twenty minutes later, and he was laying on the tile floor. The jeans were abandoned on the floor, the material still damp, though way better than it was before. He jumped up quickly, only to pause in his staggering steps as black dots filled his vision.
It took him a couple of seconds to figure out how he ended up laying against the floor, but he finally realized that he had fallen asleep. On one hand, he was happy that he had actually gotten some shut-eye, and that it was a dreamless sleep actually- which was a huge step away from the nightmares that usually plagued him- but on the other hand, he was upset that he had wasted so much time.
He could only stay so long in the community center before someone showed up. Stiles groaned as he looked towards the small windows that lined the upper walls of the athletic room. A flow of relief ran through him as he saw the sun wasn't up and that it was still dark outside, but that didn't stop him from shoving his things into the duffel bag and yanking his damp shoes on.
The further away he got from S.H.I.E.L.D, the better.
Five minutes later, he was quietly walking out of the athletic room, a stolen duffel bag slung across his body. He shut the door softly behind him before creeping out into the hallway, scanning the walls for a clock that would tell him how much time he had left. He didn't get far, however, because the silent atmosphere was quickly broken by a loud thud from outside the building. Stiles jumped slightly, his eyes widening as he backed up against the wall, trying to keep himself out of sight, just in case.
"What the hell?" He mumbled underneath his breath.
Another loud noise filled his ears, and Stiles finally recognized it as the sound of a door being messed with. Well, more like someone was pounding on a door. As if it wasn't possible, his eyes widened into saucers. He couldn't tell what door the noise was coming from, but it didn't matter. He needed to get out of there.
Stiles followed the trail he had taken to the locker room, heading back to the door that belonged to the window he came in through. But just to his luck, the noises were emitting from the back door. Stiles' breath hitched in his throat as he slowly backed away.
Another loud pound sent his scrambling backwards, spinning around on his heels only to sprint down the corridor. It didn't really cross his mind that he had no idea where he was going, he just went where his feet took him.
His fears only grew as shouts filled his ears- whoever was trying to get into the building had succeeded. Stiles paused for a split second, his head turning frantically for somewhere to go, only to yank open a random door. He cursed under his breath as he was met with a flight of stairs, though he didn't turn back.
Ignoring every burst of pain that shot through his body, Stiles powered up the stairs, adrenaline bursting through his veins in a futile attempt to escape whoever was after him. After he scaled a pair of stairs, he encountered another flight as well as a door when he reached the landing. Pausing once again, he glanced behind him, and once he realized no one seemed to be following, he decided to open up the door.
He poked his head in, disappointed to only find an office. There was no ah that was going to help him, there wasn't even windows inside- or at least, to what Stiles could see. The slamming of the door downstairs caused him to flinch, quickly shutting the one he had opened and booking it up the next flight of stairs.
The stomping of footsteps that now filled the air pushed him to go even faster. It wasn't long before Stiles was met with another door, but this time, he didn't hesitate to open it. He yanked the door open, practically diving into whatever it led to, slamming it shut behind him. It was only after he moved away from whatever was coming for him, that he noticed the warmth of the building was gone.
Stiles spun around, groaning as he found himself to be outside. The door had led to the roof. He crossed over to the edge, looking down as he debated whether he was too high to jump. Whoever had gotten into the building was getting closer, even if they did check the office for him, the second flight of stairs wouldn't take long to get up. For what seemed like the millionth time, Stiles was about to try and defy death. He backed up a little, planning on getting a bit of running start for his leap off of the community center when a glint of metal caught his eyes.
There was a wide pipe going down the side of the building that connected to the top of the roof.
"Oh thank god." He said, his voice hysterical with relief.
Stiles twisted, running towards the pipe. He was barely situated to slide down when the door burst open, several men running onto the pavement.
Uncaring of whether or not he would injure himself again, Stiles let himself fall down the metal pipe. His eyes were wide with shock as he realized that whoever broke in after him weren't just random thugs.
No, random thugs didn't wear a badge that held a skull surrounded by six tentacles.
The people after him belonged to HYDRA.