Chapter Text
À̷̠͙͎̪̗̩͈̱͜n̴͉̎̀̄͗̀ó̵̧̠̹̳̼̼̼̟ͅt̶̗͇̙̝̺̄͑̓̍̈́̚ḥ̸̢̱̫̖̲̖̦̅̂̈́̐͐̿̈̚ͅe̵̛̥͎̣͐̏̈͒̆̕r̵̢̨̫̖͇̦̩̞̈́̋̿͒͆̎̈́̾̚ ̷̧̼̪̖̪͕̞͇̜̬̽̅r̵̨͖̗͕̳̞͆̂̓͊͐̃̌ͅͅȯ̷̳̘͒̄ų̶̻̰̫̰̻͍̲̩͛n̸͙͚̗̪̗̅͋̆͘͝ḏ̶̨͙̹̳̦̟͔̃,̵̡̦̮̖̎̾̔̽ ̸͔͈̞͈̲̰͚̓̈́̏̈́̅a̵̧͎̭̬̟̫͑̈́͑͛͑̊̄̂̚ͅl̷̡̖̺̙̯̑̄͗͂̐̆l̴̗̗̝̞̙̮̰̟̆̈́̋̽̄̈̎͘̚ ̸̛͖̝̙͇̍͋̇̏ͅt̸̺̮̽ḧ̷̹̰̙̻̜̰̜̝́͌̌̂͠͝e̷̜̺̼̱͓͆̃ ̶͍͎̟̙̰̰̠̙̦̎̊͂͘͜m̷̥͖̬̏̂̌̒͒̑o̵͕̩̩͆̈́̃̾̄͛̕r̴̨̗̥̖̳̲͉̼̹̆̉̽͑̏̓͝ȅ̷̙͈̝̹̻̹̘͉̈̈́̿͒̕ ̷͕̘̩̳̠̇̈́̅̊̄̃̾̊p̴̦͑͗̽͊͛̚͜ļ̶̛̩̮̖͉͇̩̻̞́͒̀͛̔̅̐͂͝e̴̢̗̜̓̂̈́a̷̠̱͚̟̻̼̓̈́̅̔̆̂̅̚͜s̸̜͉͖̱̭̀̀̉͊i̴̤̫͗͋͌̎̕͝ņ̶̱͓͎̫̘̯̎̊̊̆ͅg̸̻̃̉̐̒̓.̶̥̲̭̠͔̗̂͆̋̓̕͠ ̶̙̝͔̰̠̟̖͚͊̾̾͜ ̴͑̅͐͌͛͊̊̚ͅẂ̵̙͖͓͑ͅa̸͎̠̲̘̭̗̜͙̔͐́̈́̏͠ͅt̴̯͈͖̝̱͉͉̉̒͆̈́̋͜c̵̛͈͍̱̥̪̰͈̅̈́̅͂̓h̶̝̲̦̋i̸̧͚̪̥̩̠͌̍̃̂̓ń̵̢͔͍̫̺̋̉̋͛̄̑͌͜͝g̶̲̃̒̿̔͝ ̸͍̻̜̱͚̤̈́̊͊͒͌̓͆͠͝t̴̡̞̙̯͖̓̇̈̄̃ḫ̴̨̛͕̳̲̻̯̻̐̑̓̓̉̈̇̋̎e̸̦͉̠͔̠̤͌͂͂͂͋͋͛̕̕ͅm̸̡̛͈̬̯̖̞̹͎̓̓̿̆͑̄̀͝ ̴̛̪̗̟̼̰̼͎̬̦̑̌̾͊̍̚̚͠s̸̲̦͕̔̇̀̍̊̿̌ŭ̵̪̻̳͎͔͐̓̊͊͒͠͝ͅf̵̡̛̖͙̥̀̉͑̈̽̂̀͜ͅf̵̨̢̲̺͕̥̪̻̰͈͋̈͗͐ȩ̵͙̟̎̋̾̒r̷̛̯̲͕̠̭̳̖̹͌͊́̈́̕͝͠,̴̧͇̫̲̳̘͔̖̠͋̀̂̒͝ ̸͉͇̀̈́̀ ̸̧͇̜͛͑̆̊̈̀ẇ̶̢̧̦̱̗̙̼̠̦̳͌̇́̆̉̐̚͘ȟ̷̦i̵̹̦͙̠͌̄̾͂̏l̷̟̟̙̑̆̐̄̍͒͗͑̚͜ḙ̴͉̑͗̿́̄̑̏͠ ̴̡̯̭͇͍͑͌̄̾ͅw̷͙̫̝̫̬̝̹̲̉̽̃͌͛͆̽̚͝ͅa̶̱̹͈͇͕̓̇͊t̸̡̯̬̳͖̱̽̿̋̐͜͠c̵͍͙̰͚͋̀͠h̷̘͈̠̜̻̱̝͕͖̿͑͐̂̐̌̇̂͜͠͝į̵̤͈̋̌̂̇̆͋͛̚͝ͅn̶̨̛̝̜͕̮͕̣̳͑̈́̏͆̔̽͘̚g̷͚̥͔̪̣̘̾ ̷̧̦̤̼͜m̵̨̻̳̠̰̲͚̪̠͚͂̐̓̓̐̕̚i̷̢̨̧̼̯͍̻̽͑̋n̵̝̰͚͛ͅe̸͉̩͍͉̩̬̦͓̝͑͗̈́ ̵͖̤͈͔̙̠̝͊̈́̄̐͌͒̅̈͐͘͜c̸̢͈̩̙̄̈́͐̏̌̑̄̕͝ȍ̸̻̗̥̰̦̦̏̀͐̽̑̒̆͜p̸̨̱̥͉̜̞͚͇̥̫͐̈́e̶͈̼̍.̴̟̭̮̄̽̒͘ ̶͙̭̠͉̤͙͇̳̊ ̷̭̹̥͖͕̙͖̤̞̉͘͠ͅT̶̯͇͕͐̄̔̊͊͆͌͝h̶̡͚̬̰̥͎̏̋͗̈́͐̅̀̑̓͝ë̵̛̼͙͓̺́͒̐̑̋͑̊y̸͚͕̺̞̣̺͐͆̕̕ ̴̡̧̰͕̥͖̟̓̍̔d̶̗̺̫͙͇̣͙̭̘̙͊̊͆͋ẹ̷̱͓͍̞̹̹̽̆̒̐̆͘͜s̵͚̤̯̊̊̄͂̀͋͐͘ë̷̱́̎̍r̴̮͖͗̐͋̚v̴̱̖͉̲̿͊͜e̵̢̫̹͕̱̣̔͂ͅ ̸͚̳̥̥̹̜͔̑̈́̑͝t̶͈̖̣̖̤͓̱̙̏̾̔͗̈́̏̆̚͜h̵͕̩̭͙͇̙̗̽ȩ̵̙̿͜ ̵̡̮̙̬͚͔̥̈́̿̅̆p̷̣͕̙̩̹̺͚͉̿͑͋̇̏̓̚͠ͅͅu̶͙̗̯͙͋̓͌̊͆̾̓͘̚͜͝n̸̤̞̠͋̒͛͐̇į̶̠̪̗̘̪͎͍̇̽̒̉̊̑͆̚͠s̴̡̝͔͉͚̊̈̄̿̍̾̉͆̏̚h̴̹̺̭͖̮̹̫̙͠m̸̢̛͖̮͈͙͚͍̃͊̐͂͂͗̈́̾e̴̯̰̦̞̎n̵̨̛̻͎͔̱̘̖͛̓̏͒̔̎͛t̶͔̣̹̯͍͎̫̤́̋͝ ̶̰̣̥̺̜̔́͗͋ͅb̸̞̾ė̵̳̦͎̗͓̎͛̈́́͋̆ș̴̓̇̃̕ẗ̵̡̮̯̹͙̣͙́̇̍̒̈̉͋̚̚ō̸̫̳͍̖̦͕͈̓̆̽̏̔̃̋͗w̵̦̻͓̻̯͌̽̋͂̂͋̃͘͠ȩ̵̤͙̗̂̐d̷̢̛̥̹̲̽͋̋̋̋͝ͅ ̵̤̮͇̳̆̒̓u̸͚͔͍̞̦͂͌͆̐͆̆̕p̶̮̂̃̔͒̍̍͑ǫ̶̡͎͍̟̟͖̓̓̆̀̐̿̓̏͘͠n̷̮̱̗̼̎́̈̒̑͑̓ͅ ̷̨̧̆̉ͅͅt̴̡͚͖͎̙͉̮͔̦͋͝͝ͅh̷͙͋̌̎̈́̕͝͝e̴̪̩̻̘̮͝m̵̧̤͗͌̐̄̐͛̃͂.̴͇̏̎͛́̓͆́̈́͝
As I gaze down at the sleeping warrior, I realize how much is at stake. At any time, they could decide to turn. But this was highly unlikely, since it was my job to prevent that. The blanket was warm as I pulled the bedsheet over those broad shoulders, not a single strand of his blonde hair out of place. Unlike me. I always get extreme bed hair. Not only because my brown hair tickles my lower back, but because I am a pretty restless sleeper. He must be used to it after already having a long slumber that lasted for 70 years, frozen in ice. His expression remained peaceful, except I knew that the infamous demon was already tearing his mind apart. Shredding memory after memory of everything that had occurred over the past week. This torture would continue until there was nothing but a blank slate. I decided to tidy up their room before exiting through the only door in their dormitory. It was safer if I left, in case they derived a violent streak.
More people accompanied him in that room, people that I should have feared. However, I only felt sorrow. I knew all of them were alienated; some of them figuratively, some of them literally. All of them were trained killing machines to some extent. All of them had a destiny of war and destruction. Two of them got to choose whether they wanted that life or not and three of them never stood chance, but then one already had his path planned out for him until around 2016. Until the devastating feud with the Sokovia accords and Iron Man himself. Somehow, I was more scared of that man than the five other assassins resting in this room.
As I looked over my shoulder one last time, I observed the super-soldier for any signs of him regaining consciousness. There was none. Sighing, I closed the door on the Avenger and company, and walked back to my house, five blocks from the facility. My mind kept wandering back to the hero-turned-criminal as I sauntered my way home. I kept thinking to myself ‘How on Earth could I fear one of the Earth’s greatest protectors?’
‘Why am I frightened of Captain America?’
Mera-Bella opened the door to her apartment and began her nightly routine. Half an hour later, she slumped into her bed, not worrying about homework at a time like this.
School work can wait for tonight.
Before she fell asleep, she looked across the room to her father who gratefully adopted her and wondered how could she unconditionally love a man but be so cautious of his demonic reflection who will awaken in that dorm. His disability didn't matter to me. One arm just meant twice the amount of hugs.