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[color=962929][b]#962929[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=808080][b]hell's angel[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/B3cRFjb][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=ed1c24][b]#ed1c24[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=808080][b]vanguard[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=808080][b]red hoodie, gray sweats[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=808080][b]descendant tower[/b][/color]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]Imogen and Luke exited the simulation, their wet clothes dripping a trail of water behind them as they returned to their seats. Phil took a minute to cue up the next training before calling out their names, [color=d6d6d6]"Jim and Myla."[/color]

Myla sighed softly, giving Theo’s hand a reassuring squeeze before she stood up. She took a deep breath, pushing her pain and discomfort back into a dark corner of her mind for her to worry about afterwards. She took a step forward like she didn’t just take a knife to it the night before. A heat flared in her thigh but she ignored it and made her way to the door. She waited for Jim, planning on using him for a frame of reference for where to stand, but deciding to not be a complete ass, she held the door open for him as well. 

He entered, barely glancing in her direction as he shook his head. This entire exercise was meaningless. He would never be caught without his suit close by in public, especially given recent developments. But no, Phil wanted to make a point in the only way weak men with middling intellects could: physical humiliation. Perhaps it was the high of the morning that made him willing to play along, or he was so exhausted he was just running on auto-pilot while he was busy doing all the things everyone else in the tower was far too incompetent to handle. He wanted this over quickly.

She followed him across the room and when they were halfway to the center Myla parted her lips and filled the silence. [color=962929]"I heard what you said."[/color] Her voice had no inflection or emotion, more stating a fact rather than searching for a reason to start a fight. The next words churned in her stomach like acid. Her natural instinct was to choke it back like bile but she forced it out before she could think better of it. [color=962929]"I… appreciate the gesture."[/color] It came out slow and almost painful, like each word was its own sentence and thought. She rang her hands uncomfortably and sighed. [color=962929]"[i]But,[/i] for the same reason why you won’t apologize, I will not say ‘thank you.’"[/color]

Jim rolled his eyes as he looked in her direction, making his way to the starting position in the center of the room. [color=ed1c24]"I don’t apologize for trying to keep my friends and family safe, or reminding people that computers exist."[/color] His words were flat, with a hint of annoyance bubbling under the surface. With the blowup over privacy, he had been proven right: the enemy knew who each of them were already. Putting on a skimpy leather outfit and a motorcycle helmet didn’t do jack shit to hide from them or keep their families from getting discovered. What Jim did in seconds they had years to do. At least now Jim could keep tabs on them… or, more accurately, his advanced AI assistant. [color=ed1c24]"But at least I say thank you when someone drops thousands of dollars on me."[/color]

Myla sighed, the muscles in her jaw tensing and her nostrils flaring as she turned her head toward the exit half contemplating calling it here. She could train with Theo later or work out in the gym or literally [i]anything[/i] else besides trying to make nice and team build with Iron Boy. [color=962929]"I’m trying to protect my family and friends [i]too.[/i] That’s the reason I have a secret identity. And once I knew what this all was about I would have told you. You don’t have to like me. I just wanted respect, but you were a dick two seconds after I walked through the door."[/color]

She crossed her arms over her chest, suppressing the pain as the stitches along her side tugged at the movement. Myla stepped onto the X as far away from Jim as physically possible. She should have remained quiet, bit her tongue until it bled, pushed through the training, and disappeared into the tower without feeding into his self righteous ego. [color=962929]"Then why did you do it?"[/color] The words slipped out before she could choke them back. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head as she turned away from him. [color=962929]"Nevermind."[/color]

Jim was happy to have space from Myla as he stepped onto the X as well, folding his arms and giving a glance up towards the observation window. This was stupid, the entire situation. Honestly, he was pretty sure Phil was still trying to punish him or teach him a lesson about the day before. All he needed to do was further brutalize a young woman who clearly needed medical attention and rest, which was a classic Coulson move. As much as he wanted to ignore her question, he simply couldn’t. He spoke very quietly, the smallest of whispers that he had forgotten she could hear. [color=ed1c24]"There isn’t anyone else left to do it. Just us."[/color]

Myla turned her head slightly toward him but whether or not she planned on saying anything else was cut off by Phil’s voice echoing around the concrete walls. [color=d6d6d6]"Thumbs up when you’re both ready."[/color] She sighed, slipped her right hand from where it was pinned against her side and held up her thumb. 

[color=d6d6d6]"Emergency shut down word is [i]‘watermelon’[/i]. Simulation will begin in 3… 2… 1."[/color]

While she had been observing everyone else’s training, for the simple fact that they [i]were[/i] simulations, she expected it all to not work very well on her. It wasn’t like she could be deceived by illusions when she couldn’t even see them. But she could feel the way the room changed around her, the air pressure rose while the temperature fluctuated a few degrees that was unperceivable to most. The whirring of spinning gears reverberated beneath the floor as pieces meant to be hidden from sight shifted and moved. Myla had a hard time focusing on any one thing until everything stopped.

She didn’t know how they did it, but she could hear and feel everything around her like she was [i]actually[/i] there. From what she could tell, they were in a decent sized storage room. There was one door on the far wall and some kind of small skylight window overhead. The room was filled with metal shelves that reached nearly to the ceiling and were filled with boxes of… she wasn’t sure. There were a couple tables, a few chairs and that was about it. Compared to what everyone else was thrown into, Myla was almost disappointed at how basic it all felt. She reached out a hand and touched the cool metal of one of the shelves as if to check that it was actually there… And it was. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it but she didn’t really have the time to try and dissect how it worked either. 

Myla quickly took stock of their strange environment knowing that they maybe had a minute before whatever rush of enemies came at them. What she did know was they were cornered so unlike the other simulations this wasn’t about brute strength but smarts and ingenuity. That made sense considering her current company and their combined lack of powers or muscle. With only one door separating them from their attackers, Myla hurried to the nearest shelf, grabbed the supports and started tugging it toward the entrance. She was deceptively strong for someone of her size and stature, managing to drag, then shove the heavy piece of furniture in front of the door as a barricade. She wiped the sweat from her brow while turning to face Jim. [color=962929]"That’ll give us two minutes… If we’re lucky."[/color]

Jim hadn’t bothered to wait for Myla to do the only thing she could: act as a barrier between him and whatever was coming. Training without his suit was cruel and illogical, and Myla was one breeze away from the ICU and a high insurance bill he would have to sort with HR. A supply cabinet was not exactly the ideal circumstances. He needed to work quickly. His eyes scanned the storage shelves. He made note of the various industrial cleaners, solvents, rolls of duct tape, a plastic funnel, two bottles of vinegar, a shop vac, and various other bits and bobs. He moved swiftly, not bothering to explain much as he already slid clean a shelf at chest height and began grabbing a few bottles.

He flicked open a small toolbox in the corner, producing a box cutter from its contents. He went to work quickly, slicing through the shop vacuum's tubing, pulling it free and tossing it on the shelf he was using for his experiments.

He began preparing his first concoction. He poured about half a bottle of vinegar into a jug of bleach, shoving the vacuum cleaner's flexible tubing over the top and setting a roll of duct tape next to it. [color=ed1c24]"Stuff some rags under the door. And you better start praying this is all fake."[/color] He wrapped a healthy amount of duct tape to keep the tube secure before quickly rushing it towards the door, propping the end of the tube so that a hazy gas began pouring through the crack in the door frame. [color=ed1c24]"Let's see how far Phil lets this go."[/color]

Myla did as instructed, not that she particularly enjoyed taking orders from him but because it was supposed to be about team work… Or something like that, and it wasn’t like she had any better ideas. She grabbed handfuls of rags and hurried toward the storage shelf that was pinned against the door. She quickly cleared the bottom shelf with a sweep of her leg, then knelt down onto it as she started shoving the cloth beneath the door. When Jim set the jug down beside her, she quickly snapped her eyes shut and held her breath. She didn’t need to ask what it was and she didn’t care to find out the hard way either. With a few leftover rags, she draped them over the bottle creating a shoddy funnel to direct as much of the gas under the crack and away from them. 

She quickly got back to her feet and took a couple steps back, sucking in a deep breath then coughing. [color=962929]"Doesn’t smell fake,"[/color] Myla commented, more rhetorically than anything. The smell was familiar enough to spark a faint memory of a scuffle on the docks that made her lungs feel like they were on fire for weeks. She searched a few more of the shelves until she found a couple more rags. Working quickly, she knotted them together into a shitty mask that wouldn’t filter out much but it was better than nothing. 

Now what did they do? [i]Wait?[/i] Myla felt like a caged animal, restless and antsy with nothing else to do [i]but[/i] wait. She continued to search the shelves and various storage supplies for anything that could be used as a weapon, but a vacuum wasn’t going to be much help. There was a mop, which she removed the head from and snapped the handle in half over her thigh into something vaguely similar to her batons. After tucking them into the back of her pants’ waistband she started stacking the heaviest supplies on the shelf closest to the door, as high up as possible. She then went around to the other side, bracing her back up against it, ready to knock it over the second the door was breached. [color=962929]"Just keep MacGyver-ing and stay clear of the door."[/color] That time [i]she[/i] instructed Jim. While neither one of them wanted to admit the other’s strengths, he was the brains and she was the brawn… That was the only way they were getting through it.

Jim had no such reassurance of success. He was stuck with a broken glorified bouncer with a temper who, at the very least, seemed incapable of hearing the eyes rolling in his head at her feeble attempt at a command. He had bigger things to worry about. He opened up the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and dumped some of its contents into what was left of the jug of bleach along with a small package of nails. He gave it a small shake before setting it down on the counter. Myla's comment on the smell being authentic did worry him slightly, but Jim was going to take this seriously enough. He had a hard time turning down a challenge. Phil would need to be the one to pull the plug.

The sound of approaching footsteps sent her back to her cluttered bedroom in Foggy’s apartment. Myla’s heart raced and breaths grew shallow as she lost herself to the memory. The attackers attempted stealth, but their steps were still too heavy, beating out of sync with the rattling bullets in their gun clips, the soft clinking of metal buckles shifting, and the swish of fabric rubbing together. Roger’s words replayed like a curse, burrowing into her skull with the sound of a silenced gunshot, the searing pain of a blade in her thigh, and the earsplitting tone, so strong that just the thought nearly made her knees buckle. The memory fogged her mind and deafened her to everything around her, dulling her senses and slowing her reflexes.

It wasn’t until three men had already broken open the door and started filing into the room that Myla snapped out of it. [color=962929]"Fuck,"[/color] she muttered through gritted teeth as she kicked off the wall and threw herself back against the top heavy bookshelf. The precarious metal structure creaked and groaned before toppling over, knocking down two of the goons and pinning them beneath the shelf and all its heavy contents that fell on top of them. She stumbled to her feet and quickly kicked the bottle of chlorine gas down the hall toward the approaching mercenaries in hopes to keep as much of it out of the room as possible. 

The third intruder narrowly missed being crushed by his comrades and was quickly closing the distance towards Jim. His gun was raised and finger hovering on the trigger when Myla called out, [color=962929]"Duck!"[/color] She ran at the man, jumped in the air and lunged at his back. The attack startled him, causing him to reflexively pull the trigger and a dart flew past Jim before impaling itself on the wall behind him. The stitches in Myla’s side tore as she wrapped her arms around the man’s neck in a tight choke hold. Her legs locked around his waist, holding tight as he thrashed around, clawing at her arms and slammed her back against a wall. Warm blood pooled against her shirt and trickled down her side, but she hardly noticed. Normally she would have tried to knock the man out, but even in a simulation that type of scenario was undoubtedly life or death, at least in her experience. Rather than wasting time, she grabbed his head and snapped his neck. When his body collapsed beneath her, she tucked and rolled off his back as he hit the ground. 

Jim, in the meantime, was busy with his third mixture when the call out came. He turned his gaze back towards the open door, taking in the sight of Myla struggling with only a few mercenaries. He gave the bottle of hydrogen peroxide a shake after adding in some vinegar. He walked briskly past her, towards the men still struggling under the shelf, and poured the concoction on their heads. The projections over their faces shifted and changed as the metal masks of the training drones bubbled up. The acid tore through them with ease, but there was not nearly enough for the more he heard in the hallway. Their simulated choking and gasping was not going to keep them at bay forever. When Myla was finally done fighting the drone, Jim shook his head. [color=ed1c24]"This is going to take forever at this rate."[/color]

Still crouched on the ground, Myla reached out and grabbed a half empty gallon of paint. She climbed to her feet and made her way toward the door, making sure to avoid whatever putrid smelling liquid Jim doused the pinned men with. She swung the can by its wire handle and chucked it down the narrow hallway. It slammed into the man leading the charge, hitting him square in the face and sending him tumbling over like a domino. [color=962929]"If it was supposed to be quick, you’d have your suit,"[/color] she replied plainly, like it was obvious the training was intended to test them and [i]not[/i] be quick. Although it would have been a hell of a lot faster if Jim threw a couple punches too. 

Myla continued to search the shelves for anything weighty enough to throw at the men as they approached. She found a few random bricks, a rusted putty knife, and an old heavy tape measure. But even so, it didn’t do much beyond slowing them down and with a toppled bookshelf between them, it made it difficult when she couldn’t close the distance. She weighed her options before backing up to the wall opposite the door. It was stupid and likely wouldn’t end well, but there was only so much a half empty supply room and cleaning products could do. If she could buy Jim enough time to use the one muscle he [i]did[/i] have, then maybe they’d pull through. 

Before she could think better of it, she sprinted toward the door and leapt over the fallen bookshelf. Myla’s fingertips grasped at the small lip at the top of the doorframe, managing to hold on just long enough to swing her body. More of the stitches in her side popped in protest from the strain as she threw her legs forward and slammed her feet into the chest of the closest goon. Her grip slipped and she fell to the ground while the momentum knocked the man over, taking two others down with him. Myla pressed her palms back into the floor beside her head and got back to her feet with a quick kip up. She pulled the broken mop handle pieces from her waistband and started fighting her way down the hall, ducking punches, busting kneecaps, and slamming her makeshift batons into any body parts within reach. 

While Myla was throwing junk at the assailants, Jim was busy checking the last trick he had up his sleeve. The bottle was bulging slightly at the seams, ready to combust with even the slightest bit of pressure. It wasn’t a very powerful explosive, but it was the best he could construct with such limited supplies. The nails inside would shred through anything nearby. It wouldn’t take them all out, but it would be enough to thin the herd enough for Myla to do her thing while he tried to figure out his next move.

And then, Myla jumped out into the hallway.

[color=ed1c24]"Idiot!"[/color] Jim looked at his makeshift bomb, moments away from exploding, and then out into the hall where noxious gas was. There was nowhere safe to throw the bomb now, and he was not going to burn his eyes and lungs further. The large red stain on Myla's shirt was a clear sign that she needed medical assistance. This was a losing battle, and she was going to get herself killed. He had only one option as he moved away from the explosive. [color=ed1c24]"Watermelon!"[/color]

Myla pushed her way through the attackers, moving farther from the gas and trying to land as many blows as possible. While she might have looked crazy for running into the fray, it was narrow corridors like that where she thrived. Tight and compact spaces made it difficult for assailants to use their weapons effectively, but she moved with a swift finesse, ignoring the pain in her side as she utilized their clumsiness to her advantage. At one point she threw one of the pieces of mop handle up into the overhead light, shattering the lightbulb and casting the hallway in darkness. She cracked the last shoddy baton in half across the face of the man to her right then plunged the remaining piece into the eye socket of merc on her left. Hearing someone else approach from behind she ducked out of the way then kicked off the wall, fist balled to bring her knuckles right down on their temple. But before her hit connected she heard Jim call out the safeword and the simulation vanished. With all her built up momentum and nothing to stop it, Myla stumbled forward and fell to her knees. Her palms pressed against the cool concrete to keep herself from tipping over as she tried to catch her breath. 

Why the fuck out of everyone in the tower did she have to be partnered with fucking Stark? At that point she might have genuinely preferred Ronnie. After everything she had been through, she was trying her best, using knowledge from her own experience and pushing past the pain to try… And this is what she got? It felt like nothing she could do would ever be enough to his arrogant, elitist gaze. Fight through her injuries? [i]Not enough.[/i] Be the body guard while he played mad scientist? [i]Idiot.[/i] There was a fleeting thought to get up and just… walk out, out of the simulation and out of the tower. But she wasn’t there for herself, this was for her father, and Theo’s father, and everyone else who was taken. It was that thought, and that thought alone that kept her from leaving. 

With a frustrated grunt, Myla pushed off the ground and got back on her feet. Her left hand ripped the makeshift mask from her face and threw the cloth aside while her right hand pressed against her bleeding ribs. She felt the warmth seeping between her fingers as she trudged toward the exit without a word, shoving past Jim in the process. Stoic, silent, and pissed, she slipped back onto the bench beside Theo, seeking his comfort while her face turned from everyone but him. There was a part of her that felt guilty, relying on him so heavily knowing the burden it put on him, but if it wasn’t for Theo… She didn’t know if she could survive that place.

Jim took the shove, standing relatively motionless as he looked up towards the observation window. He didn't care about the stares of the rag-tag group of wannabe heroes watching with either interest or glee in his failure. His eyes locked onto Phil, watching carefully with his arms folded. Phil's expression didn't reveal much, and Jim wasn't the kind of person who could read even the most obviously broadcasted emotions. The one thing he did see, however, was the agent. The older man was running calculations behind his stoic mask, and Jim saw an unflattering reflection.

Jim shook his head, slowly walking towards the door. He didn't care if he failed, or if Phil was disappointed, or if Myla was going to hit him later. He wasn't going to gamble with their safety and health. She needed new stitches and time to rest. He only hoped her boy toy was strong enough to make sure she recovered in peace.[/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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