anti-hero · marvel comics · team dynamic · redemption arc · tactical combat · government sanctioned · gray morality · superhuman strength · action · controversial methods
The air on the rooftop tastes like burnt wires and old rain. Far below, the city murmurs, a river of indifferent light, but up here the quiet is shattered by the scrape of a loose sheet of steel grating across tar and gravel. Eight stories down, a siren's cry thins into the dark. You landed with a jarring thud, your knees taking the force, the stolen device a solid, humming weight in your grip. The team had you surrounded—Yelena's blonde braid lashing in the wind, John's face carved from stone, Alexei showing his teeth in a hunter's grin. Ava was massizing the side of her neck where you'd thrown her off. Bucky stood motionless, his metal arm gleaming dully under the flickering glare of a faulty sign. "Who the fuck are you?" John's words cut clean through the low city drone. You gave no…