Chapter Text
The streets of Novi Grad — capital of Sokovia — grew more crowded as night fell. Taylor held a cup of coffee in one hand, long trench coat doing little to keep the dirty puddle water off the hem — though it couldn't stop the rain from soaking your shoulders. You drew a deep breath, tilted your head back at the rain-heavy sky, and dropped the cup into the nearest trash can.
It's time.
You moved through the streams of people scrambling for shelter, pushing straight toward the hotel you had booked. A brief nod to the front desk — politeness costs nothing. The door to your room swung open, and a wave of darkness swallowed the space, creeping toward your. You shrugged off your coat and tossed it onto the sofa. Honestly, you had no intention of turning the lights on. You hadn't come to enjoy this city — you had a job to do, and then you would leave. You flipped open the laptop already waiting on the desk, fired up the VPNs you trusted to keep your invisible in the dark — along with a few other precautions, like wearing gloves to a crime scene.
Taylor was a professional hacker belonging to one of the world's most notorious organizations — founded by many, operating freely, with members scattered across every corner of the globe. But there was no infighting, no conflict within their ranks. They trusted each other — hearts bound to the organization. That was why, despite running without a central authority, they had grown powerful and infamous worldwide.
Your current mission: breach the systems of a rival Russian organization led by a formidable and ruthless woman named 'Diane.' If Diane caught your, you would torture your — make use of your abilities. So Taylor had to be careful. You ranked B within your own organization, recognized for your talent and intelligence — a quietly feared operative who kept your identity buried.
Back to the matter at hand — you had already worked past 18 Russian security guards in the system. Difficult, but only a matter of time before you cracked the final firewall. The loading circle on your screen spun, then flashed green. Your eyes practically lit up as you broke through and executed your mission. It was almost too easy — within minutes, the entirety of Diane's plans had been forwarded to your organization's leader, along with a sizable sum of money you had quietly redirected into your own account (that last part was all your; leadership hadn't asked for it) — just enough to buy yourself a few little things.
The cold nipped at your skin as you typed out the last commands. Outside, the season had shifted — snowflakes were falling now. You rarely saw snow anywhere except the ice rink you used to visit to watch your friends skate. This was the first time you'd seen it fall outside, in real life. Still, you prioritized the work. You finished the remaining tasks quickly. When the last shortcut was activated, you finally let yourself enjoy the snowfall through the window.
You set the laptop down on the bed and walked to the window. You pulled the curtain wider; moonlight spilled blue into your dark room. The cold grew sharper against your skin, but it didn't stop your from watching the snowflakes drift past. You grabbed the hotel blanket and wrapped it around yourself, standing there to watch the snow fall from the height of your floor — tiny white specks disappearing into the stream of traffic far below.
the sound of the door being unlocked
You spun around sharply. Light from the hallway blazed straight into the room — straight into your. You threw your left arm up to shield your eyes.
*bang*
A gunshot rang out. You felt a searing heat in the bone of your upper left arm — the one you'd raised against the sudden light — and then the pain crashed in as you lowered your arm to assess what was in front of your. Three figures, taller than your, dressed in black with three white stripes. Almost certainly Diane's people, sent to take your in. But how had they found your — you had too many questions and no time for any of them. You dodged the second shot and grabbed the gun off the desk, opening fire. One of them took a bullet to the shoulder and went down. You sprinted to the bed and, with your bleeding left arm, grabbed the laptop and clutched it to your chest along with the blanket.
Ride or die, till i die
This place is no longer safe
You kept shooting — brought down a second one. The last one was crouched out in the hallway; you didn't dare step out. If you didn't deal with him before running, the rest of the organization would be on their way here. There were probably more of them already in the lobby below.
You lunged out of the room and was immediately hit by the last one waiting against the wall to the right. The bullet caught your gun hand at the wrist — but you'd already fired straight into his head. Your gun clattered to the floor. He managed one final shot into your chest before falling. They both went down; he was dead before he hit the ground, shot clean through the skull. You was alive, somehow. You pushed yourself upright through sheer exhaustion, retrieved the laptop from the floor beside your, and forced yourself to stand — blood soaking through your entirely, but the hotel blanket still wrapped around your, at least hiding the wound on your chest, if not the pain.
You thought about the elevator but realized Diane's people were likely riding up on the main one. You turned and ran for the glass elevator at the back of the hotel. You stepped inside — blood coating your hands, right hand useless, left arm cradling the laptop and the blanket — and managed to press floor 1 with your left elbow. Barely.
The elevator descended. Your body curled inward with the pain. Through the glass, snowflakes fell alongside your. The glow of the streetlights outside caught the panels and bathed the entire elevator in warm amber — while your body grew warmer still, from the wounds, from the adrenaline pushing as hard as it ever had.
The doors finally opened. You limped out into the crowd — people staring at your sideways as you moved through them wrapped in a blanket, clutching a laptop, dragging one leg. You prayed no one could smell the gunpowder on your.
You had no idea where to go. Pain drowned out every thought. You moved on instinct alone, staggering along the sidewalk toward the coffee shop where you'd bought your drink earlier. And then you walked into someone — and crumpled to the ground, and the world went dark.
You opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was green — green eyes staring straight into hers, wide with worry. You was frozen by them, held in place for a moment you couldn't measure.
Flawless
“Hey, are you okay?” (in Russian)
You snapped back. You forced yourself away from that green — away from whatever it was doing to your — and looked around.
White
Blue
And the hospital bed you was lying in
Those details told your you was somewhere in a hospital in Novi Grad. You scanned the room and didn't see your laptop — then shifted your gaze to the brown-haired woman still watching your with that worried look.
“The doctor said you lost a lot of blood and your injuries are serious. Where are your parents? Where do you live?” (in Russian)
“English please”
That was all you could manage — you'd never picked up Russian, since your plan was always to finish the mission and fly back to Thailand to recover.
“Oh, I’m sorry — I assumed you spoke Russian. My name is Wanda Maximoff. What happened to you? You walked into me and collapsed in the street, so I drove you here as fast as I could.”
“Did you see my laptop?”
“Don’t worry, I left it in the back seat of my car.”
You kept your eyes off Wanda’s as you spoke. There was something about those eyes you couldn’t name — something that locked your in place and made your want to curl in on yourself.
“I’ll go get the doctor now that you’re awake.”
“Thank you.” Wanda stepped outside and spoke to a nearby nurse in the hallway. Taylor watched the shape of your as you talked, and then Wanda turned back and returned to the bedside.
“The doctor will be here soon. What’s your name?”
“My name Taylor”
You couldn’t risk using your real name here, not with the enemy organization still hunting your in this city.
“Oh gosh — you walked into me and just went down. I thought someone had just bumped into me, but when I turned around there was a trail of blood stretching all the way back down the road, and when I looked down you were lying on the ground.”You didn’t remember the collision at all. You only remembered trying to keep walking. You had thought the blanket was holding the blood in — but it hadn’t. It had been bleeding out with every step, leaving a trail behind your. You must have fainted from blood loss and stumbled into this green-eyed woman.
“Ah, I—”
The door opened and an older doctor walked in, seasoned and experienced in every line of his face. He held a stack of papers; you assumed some of them were about your.
“Hello there. You’re currently in hospital with three serious wounds. Because they’re gunshot wounds, you’ve lost a significant amount of blood — it took us a long time to transfuse and stabilize you. Do you remember what happened?”
“No… doctor.” Lying was the only option you could think of right now — the only way to protect your identity and get back to the organization before the enemy found your.
“It’s possible the blood loss caused temporary oxygen deprivation to the brain, leading to short-term memory loss. We’ll monitor you and work toward recovering those memories. Are you sure you’ve forgotten everything?”
No… that meant you’d be stuck in this hospital for monitoring — a month, maybe even a year. That was impossible. Diane’s people would tear this city apart looking for whoever had broken into their servers.
Lie…
Again
“Actually, I only forgot the accident itself. I still remember my family.”
“Then could you provide a contact for a family member so we can complete the hospital paperwork?”
“My mom’s here. Your name is Wanda…” You wanted to brush your teeth after saying it — there was something oddly mortifying about claiming Wanda as your mother.
“Oh!” Wanda, who had been standing there listening the whole time, made a startled sound — your eyes went wide, and Taylor found yourself unable to look away from them. You bit your lip and waited.
“But I—”
“Mommy, you know I hate unfamiliar places like this… can you get me discharged early?”
“But Taylor, I’m not your mom.”
“Mommy…” Right. You was the only liar in the room. How was you supposed to know whether a stranger would play along — especially a woman who looked like you didn’t suffer nonsense.
But once a lie left your mouth, you couldn’t take it back — especially when your life depended on it.
“But mommy…” Tears tracked down the corners of your eyes and rolled slowly across your cheeks. “It hurts so much.” You swallowed. “I can’t sleep in a strange place.” You furrowed your brow and tried to move your arm up to your chest for effect — unfortunately the anesthetic was still in, and you felt nothing at all.
“But I’m not your mother, Taylor.”
You bit the inside of your cheek.
Damn.
You felt pathetic — sitting here begging like a child asking to go out to play, and failing.
“Oh right, I suppose mom decided the hospital bill was too much and was planning to leave me here, wasn’t you?”
That was rude. Why was you deliberately dumping this on a stranger — but it was your life, so you had to do harm to this poor woman.
“Ma’am, this hospital has support programs for financial hardship. You cannot abandon your daughter just because of the bill.”
Wanda drew a long, slow breath and let it out. That made your nervous — you had no idea how Wanda was going to handle this, because honestly you had just been improvising. You couldn’t think clearly; you’d only just woken up from anesthesia, and your brain was not at its best.
“Okay, so… doctor, when is the earliest that Taylor my daughter can be discharged?”
The words “my daughter” rang out in your like a victory bell. Your eyes went wide and bright. You took a deep breath and held yourself back from actually cheering.
“Thank you mommy!!!” The triumph was stronger than the embarrassment — you didn’t stop to think before the words came out.
“Don’t celebrate just yet, ma’am. Your daughter needs to stay at least three days for monitoring — to watch for infection and complications.”
Wanda smiled and shook your head. You was trying to read whatever Wanda was about to say, but the acceptance — the willingness to play along — had already caught your completely off guard.
“I think I’ll settle the bill and handle the discharge paperwork right now.” How was Wanda saying that, knowing exactly how bad the situation was — it didn’t matter to your, but the doctor would push back immediately.
“Ma’am, your condition is serious. Your daughter cannot be discharged after one day. Your wounds will become infected without three days of monitoring.”
Wanda only gave a small, dismissive smile, as if this were all a mild inconvenience.
“Oh, it’s alright — I can monitor Taylor myself. I have a background in patient care. And as my daughter mentioned, you doesn’t do well in unfamiliar places. Recovering at my home will be better for your.”
Oh
You was deeply grateful to Wanda — but something about your felt off. A quiet unease settled over your. Your body grew warmer, and the smile faded slowly from your face.
“Only if you sign a patient safety commitment form.”
“That’s not a problem, doctor. Lead the way.”
The doctor and Wanda finally came to an agreement and stepped out. You could still hear the doctor listing warnings as they moved down the hallway, the voice fading until you couldn’t make out the words anymore.
You lay back, exhaling slowly, a quiet groan escaping — relief at getting out, and also because the anesthetic was wearing off and the pain was beginning to surface. But you knew you couldn’t let Wanda hear your complaining, or Wanda would insist you stay. So you just lay there, breathing carefully, managing the pain until the nurse came back with the next dose.