The World We Live In

The restraints were metal. The table was metal. Hell even the walls were metal. They weren't just any metal though. They were Adamantium. Matilda couldn't see. She couldn't feel. She was trapped. Whoever had done this was smart. They must've been watching her for months. They'd manage to get past all of her defenses and knock her out cold. Then they took her, brought her to wherever the hell she was.

She knew better than to struggle. She would only end up hurting herself and the time it took heal wasn't worth the failed attempts. She closed my eyes and reached out, but was met with nothing.

A door creaked open. Then there was suddenly light. It blinded her. Then there was darkness. The next time she woke up, she was drowsy. There were people crowded around her, and she was hooked up to a system of tubed and needles.

"Doctor, she is awake."

"Are her limbs restrained?" a man asked.

"Yes."

"Then proceed."

She could feel the things around her. The restraints were Adamantium, but the latches holding them were not. She ripped all of the tubes from herself and sent them flying towards the doctors. The cart of equipment was useful. She used the cords on one of the machines to trip up one nurse, while using the other to strangle a different nurse. She broke the latches. One of the doctors pulled out a gun. He fired the bullet, but before it hit her, it was frozen in midair. It turned back towards him dangerously. She dropped it though and settled for slamming him against the wall. She tore out of the room, but was grabbed and cuffed. She couldn't feel or move these ones either. She tried to move them, but they were prepared. They had on mesh suits of Adamantium or maybe Vibranium. She couldn't feel it either. They threw her back in the first room. Then there was just pain.



Matilda shot out of bed with a start. Things around her were floating. She gently set them down. "Damn Stark for bringing Masquerade shit up," she muttered. She got out of bed and stretched. She wasn't used to this new form. During dinner, Bruce, Tony, Steve, Thor and Tilly had worked on creating a form to be her basic human one, instead of jumping around.

Steve had suggested that she'd be extremely feminine, which she shot down really fast. Tony thought she should be a bimbo. She had responded with a simple flick of her finger sending a fortune cookie into his face.

"Pepper is going to kill you, when she gets back from that conference," Clint said from the couch. He hadn't said much around Matilda. She just brushed it off. Assassins weren't known for being the most social.

They had finally managed to come to an agreement. She was tall, but not obnoxiously so. She was pretty, but not delicate. She was the perfect balance. Her hair was long and black, and she had dark olive skin. She was toned, but not overly so.

In order to shake off the memory, she slid on a pair of shoes, left her room and walked up to the main living area. Most of the lights were out, but the few that were lit perfectly illuminated the room just so that you could see without it being bright. She walked outside to the helicopter landing and looked out over the city. She barely even noticed the presence above her. She pulled a piece of concrete from the ground. Once it reached her, she stepped onto it and lifted it to the top. Once she was there, she set it down on the ground feeling for anyone in the way.

She saw the back facing her. "You can tell a lot about a person by their sleeping habits," she said. Clint turned around to face her.

"Really now?" he asked.

"Something's haunting you, either something you've done or something done to you." It was a fact that she had come to know well over the years.

He grunted. She sat down across from him.

"So Clint, you're the famous Hawkeye. Is this your nest?" she asked.

"I have a few nests," he said. He looked out at the city for a few moments in silence.

"It helps to talk. I know it sounds obnoxiously cliché and like a shrink, but it's true."

"Are you gonna tell me that you're a good listener next?"

"No, I was gonna tell you that I've sat through enough stupid bull shit that even if I'm not listening, it'll still be like I'm holding on to every word."

"That's reassuring," he said bitterly.

She laughed. "I kid. I kid, but I might be able to help you out a bit." She paused and was suddenly solemn. "I wish… I wish I could've had someone to talk to, someone to help me, someone to suck all of the poisonous thoughts out of my head. Things would be… better if I did. More people would have lived," she said quietly.

He picked up on it though and tilted his head, slightly.

"I was messed up there for a while. I repressed a lot of things. It affects every part of your life."

"You didn't have your body taken over by an evil demi god and forced to hurt people."

"There's the issue," she sighed. She wasn't sure how to approach this and she felt that it could possibly more than what she could try to help with, but she was happy to at least have him admit what was bothering him. "No surprisingly that hasn't happened yet." She ran a hand through her hair. "I haven't known you long," she said.

"You don't know me at all," he challenged.

"I know enough to know that you're a good person."

"How'd you draw that conclusion?" he asked.

"Anyone, who is this upset over hurting innocents, especially, when it's not their fault because they were being forced, has to be a good person."

He looked a little better, like the weight on his shoulders had been lessened enough that he could breathe. "How'd you get up here?" he asked.

"Rode a piece of concrete up like an elevator," she said.

"You fly?" he asked.

"No, I can make other things fly, and I can ride on them."

He nodded.

"Wanna see?" I asked.

He raised a brow.

"I've never really had anyone that I could show. I was always afraid."

"Of what?"

"There's a lot of money out there circulating around for my head. So do you wanna see New York from the sky or no?"

"I've seen New York from the sky," he said.

"Not like this you haven't."

She closed her eyes and reached out. Initially the people and cars and buildings over whelmed her, but then she found something she could use.

"Who the hell in New York has a surfboard to throw away?" she asked.

"Surfboard?"

"Oh give me some credit. It's better than a damn piece of concrete," she said.

He smirked. "No brooms?"

"That's not funny. A damn broom got me tied to a fucking stake with fire at me feet." She wondered how many people were actually going to notice the surfboard floating towards Stark tower. She should've though about that, when she used the concrete, but oh well. She walked over to it.  Rather than stand, she sat on it, like surfers do, when they're waiting for a wave.

Clint just looked at her.

"I'm not joking. Get on."

He sighed and shook his head. He stood up grabbing his bow. She raised an eyebrow.

"It's how I got up here," he said. He sat behind her.

"Now if you fall off, I can just lift you and set you down somewhere. If I fall off, I go splat. In turn you probably go splat, so just hang on, so that I don't fall."

He wrapped his arms around her waist. "And we are a go."

With that they shot of the roof. Matilda was a bit of a speed demon, so they were really hauling ass through the sky.

"Could you go any faster?" Clint asked, sarcastically.

"Be careful what you ask for," she said with a smile. She sped even faster.

"Ah fuck!" he swore.

Tilda giggled with glee. "You've been in jets that go faster than this."

"Yes, IN jets, not on a garbage surfboard, not hanging onto the back of a- What are you?"

"We won't know for sure until Bruce gets the DNA results in, but we're leaning towards mutant. I was born, not made."

"Hanging on to the back of a possible mutant."

"You agreed to this," she pointed out, turning her head to look at him.

"Can you keep your eyes on the sky?"

"Is little Hawkeye afraid?

"A little sketched out," he said.

Her peels of laughter filled his ears. It sounded like silver bells to him.

"Hold on tight, bank turn."

His grip tightened. She turned and they were out over the harbor. "I know I said tight, but can we try not to break my ribs? That'll take forever to heal."

He loosed his grip a bit. She went over to the Statue of Liberty and hopped off onto her torch. Clint quickly followed. "This is better," he said. They gazed out at the New York skyline.

"Seen a lot of views, but this is one of the best."

"You said, when a person can't sleep something's haunting them. What's haunting you?" Clint asked. Matilda had just been so care free and so giddy, what could have possibly been haunting her that she woke up?

A wry smile graced her lips. "Experiments done on me in the 80s or at least that's what's haunting me tonight. Other nights it's things that I've done, things I didn't do. It's all one giant cluster fuck in my head." She shook her head as if it would clear the thoughts.

"If it helps, I'll listen," he said.

She sent him a grateful smile. "Here, I've got an idea. We'll go get a ton of real junk food, not that nasty fancy shit that Tony has, and we'll play twenty questions back at the tower."

"I don't have any cash of me."

She took off her shoe and pulled two one-hundred dollar bills from it. "I've always got cash. There's no real rhyme or reason to anything I do, so I have to be prepared for something to happen."

He shook his head. "Let's go."