Fire and Smoke - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Chapter 47

"There is no point fighting me." The dark-haired man warns as he slowly steps closer to me, his steps heavy against the gravel of the path underneath his shoes.

"I have a gun." I lie, panicked, backing away from the man as much as I can without tripping and falling to the ground, my uncertain steps a contrast to his sure and heavy ones.

My head pounds viciously, and I feel like throwing up because of it, at the same time as I feel like I'm going to faint, my earlier relief sadly short-lived. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I breathe shallowly, no longer noticing how clean and fresh the air is. I try to think of a way to get myself away from the man, but none come to mind; it's as if my head is working against me. Damnit. I curse, looking around me for inspiration. Maybe there's someone there. Maybe there's something to defend myself with that I haven't thought of before. Nothing. Just woods, and a small stream to my right. The dark-haired man was smart. He waited until he had me in a secluded area. No matter where I turn my head, I see no viable route for me to escape via. That being said; I doubt I would get very far in my condition. There are only two ways for me to move: backward, or forward, through the man. The dark-haired man seems to already have thought along the same path as me, as he chuckles softly, a chuckle completely devoid of any real glee, and it's terrifying.

"You don't have a gun. You never took it with you after you fought those men and then fainted. And there's no point running from me. You know you won't make it." He speaks almost robotically.

I stare wide-eyed at him. How could he know? Has he been following me all this time? Why? Who is he? I strain my eyes, willing myself to see him, really see him, and know him. He's quite tall, much taller than me, and looks fit. It's hard to make out his face as we're underneath a canopy of branches which remove all trace of sunlight, and his hair keeps falling in front of his face, obscuring it from my view. My eyes seem to pound in their sockets, angry at the way I'm squinting. I study the man's physique. Normally, I think would have a chance at winning a hand-to-hand fight, but right now I doubt I could overpower even a three-year-old. Shit.

"What do you want? I've got no money on me." I speak, my voice shaking, tripping slightly as I step back slowly, keeping my gaze fixed on the man, ignoring the way my vision keeps jumping in and out of focus.

"I don't want your money." Is his curt answer, his eyes drilling holes in me. He's gotten close enough now for me to see that he's wearing some kind of mask over half of his face, obscuring his mouth and nose, making his eyes appear all the more cold between the black mask and black hair. There is nothing familiar about him at all.

"Who are you?" I ask, just to keep talking to delay whatever is going to come next.

Maybe he's someone from an old case I've worked on? But that doesn't make sense. I haven't worked on any cases at all. I'm not in the present. How does he know me? Does he know of my powers? Does he know who I'm staying with? Is that why he's targeting me?

The man narrows his piercing eyes slightly, thinking of an answer, maybe. I step back another step as he advances, but this time I miscalculate my step and I can't save myself from crashing down onto the sandy path, the hard, tiny rocks poking holes in my palms as I try to catch myself. My vision spins and I almost feel myself puking, but nothing comes up. Good thing I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon. When I look up, fear grips at my chest. The dark-haired man is standing right over me, looking down.

He seems almost pleased. I try my best to not appear scared, but I can't help the small gasp that escapes me when he leans down and with his left hand grips my collar and pulls me up by my hoodie with no indication of me being heavy at all; it's like he's picking up a napkin he's dropped. I'm nothing more than a rag doll to him. I feel my shoes leave the ground as he lifts me to his level. My hands grip his, and shocked I realize he's wearing some kind of armor; his hand and arm are completely solid, all I feel are hard plates moving underneath his clothes and glove.