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The cold training room was about to heat up.

Natasha and Clint were up first.

Tasha smiled devilishly at Clint as she cracked her knuckles and neck. Her short red hair was set behind her ears as her parakeet shaded eyes focused on him. She stretched in her gray tank top and black shorts and yawned. Fighting was one thing. Training? That was like child's play to her. But, for Coulson's sake, she agreed.

Barton walked up to the mat and made sure his brown shirt was tucked underneath his blue gym shorts. It was better than the ends of his shirt flying around and distracting him. He hesitated. He wanted to avoid training against Natasha. She grew up with fighting, which was something he couldn't match. His light blue eyes watched her carefully, attempting to study the first move she was going to make. He knew her tactics. All he had to do was apply them. He closed his eyes and put his hands together, silently trying to find his inner ferocity. Clint exhaled loudly and took in every sound of the room. Grunts. Breathing. Papers fluttering. Shoes squeaking. Something being punched.

He was in the zone now. Everything had registered within his mind.

Natasha acted first. She threw her fist at Clint's rib cage, but he quickly arced his back to dodge it. He retaliated, aiming his fists at her, but she deflected every single. This went on for about a minute before Tasha decided to spice things up. She kicked him in the chest and made him fly into the wall. Clint groaned, but picked himself up. He was stronger than this. The funny thing was Natasha already knew that. She could tell he wasn't fighting with all of his energy. Otherwise, she'd have to wrestle him to the ground in an attempt not to knock him out or kill him. She backed him into a corner and waited.

They stared intently at each other for a few seconds, just standing there and taking in the moment. The training session went by in a flash, but they could only do so little to each other. They already knew one another's moves. It was difficult not to predict what was coming at them next. Their chests heaved and sweat dripped down their faces. Clint wiped the sweat off of his face as a distraction and swept her off of her feet with a swift kick to the shin. Natasha growled as she hit the floor. He bounced off of the wall onto the other side of her, making sure she didn't have the opportunity to grab him in mid-air. Barton waited patiently for Romanoff to get off her arse and continue training.

Nat didn't want to go all out and hurt him. She would do more damage than she would hope to. So, thinking logically, she got up and elbowed him in the stomach. He hunched over, allowing her to grab his arm and twist it behind his back. Clint yelled out in pain; his first thought was how he would get out of it.

Barton twisted his arm farther and popped it out of place. To Natasha's surprise, he got free of her hold by rolling away. He grabbed his arm and put it back into its socket so fluidly that it almost seemed like he did that every day. Natasha grimaced at his actions, which only made Clint's lips curl up into a smile. He loved making her cringe. It was something that couldn't be done everyday. His fist came in contact with her nose, making her jerk backwards a bit. Clint covered his mouth slightly with his hands in shock. "Oh, Natasha, I didn-"

Natasha grabbed him and body slammed him into the ground. The sound of his body hitting the floor thundered through the large room and echoed against the walls. She grunted and wiped the blood trail falling from her nose.

Clint stayed on the ground to catch his breath a bit and picked himself up. He nearly fell over, but grabbed a hold of the wall next to him. He huffed, "I'm remembering a much simpler time. The good ol' days when...oh wait. That was this morning when I was in bed. And that's where you'll find me if you need me." Barton stumbled out of the room on the hunt for his bed.

Natasha jumped back and forth in her spot to keep herself energized and ready to fight. Her short red hair flew about her, one second behind her motions. She held her fists up to her abdomen and panted. Her emerald eyes locked onto mine and she motioned for me to come over. "Come on, Lilly. Get on the mat."

My eyes widened and I shook my head. Getting my ass kicked by her? That's something I did not want to try. She excelled in hand-to-hand combat. I wasn't. "You're going to beat me in a heartbeat if I don't use my powers."

"You can't rely on your powers every time," she pointed out. "Jump in."

I glanced over at Peter, who was sitting in a chair next to me. He wore a white shirt with black gym shorts. He hated the idea of training. All he wanted to do was go to his room and do some research about biophysics. Peter's brown eyes looked out into the distance before realizing the fight was over. He nervously played with his hands, which was a tell tail sign he was remembering something from the past. He ruffled his short brown hair and picked up on what was going on.

He nodded to me, so I reluctantly started walking over to the mat. I straightened out my red shirt and white sweat pants to make sure they were on tight enough. I didn't want to be in the middle of the fight and have my clothes create unwanted friction to my movements.

I noticed Steve in the corner of the room taking on a punching bag. He had ruined two bags in the hour alone, which was scary to think of how many people he could take out within that time. That would be something fun to watch. His short blonde hair flopped with every swing he took. Sometimes, he added in a few kicks to change it up a bit. Steve's blue eyes focused on the bag with such ferocity that I was sure he was imagining someone he hated as the punching bag. Sweat stained his navy blue shirt and black sweats, but weren't as noticeable as I thought it would have been. He shook out his hand when it burned from the punching, but quickly got back into it seconds later.

I passed by Coulson, who was sitting quietly on a chair, observing us. He put both feet on the ground and leaned forward. His baby blue eyes followed my every move. "Why are you here?"

I turned my head to him and pointed a finger at myself after I reached Natasha. "Me?" He nodded, so I continued, "Because my cousin is here and I want to help them make this world a better place." Natasha threw the first punch, and I easily blocked it.

That was just the warm up.

She kicked her foot towards my chest, making me back away to just barely miss being hit. Romanoff leaned forward and punched me in the ribs. I held my ground and returned a blow that she quickly blocked. Nat twisted my arm and I cried out in pain. I kicked her in the shin and spun around to deliver a shot to her shoulder. She regained her stance and connected her fist to my jaw. I stumbled backwards, but held myself up.

Coulson continued the conversation as we fought, "Get in line, honey. There are thousands more like you."

"You don't know what I am," I shot back and deflected a shot to my leg. My focus had to remain on Tasha, but Coulson knew he could distract me. My fists flew at her, but she blocked every move with her arms. I was limited to in fighting and couldn't go to the fullest extent and knock her unconscious. We were strictly working on fighting. Natasha's fist crashed against my rib cage, knocking the air out of my lungs. I groaned and stumbled a bit before retaliating with a kick to the back of the leg.

He declared, "August 24th, 1996, you were at..."

I cut him off, "How do you know where I was?" I immediately stopped fighting, receiving a blow to my arm. Natasha halted her actions when she saw I quit and cocked her head slightly. I turned fully to Coulson and narrowed my eyes.

"We always have an eye on people. Is that a shock to you?" He questioned and furrowed his brow a bit. He unwrinkled his suit as he stood up to meet my height, even though he was taller than me.

I knew he wanted to be intimidating, but I was trying so hard not to go up to him and fight him right there and then. Anger coursed through my body, causing my heart to beat much faster than it already was. "You saw what was happening, and yet you didn't do anything about it?" I talked with my hands, expressing how furious I was. I wiped the sweat off of my brow.

Coulson's facial expression was calm and cool. Sometimes it was really difficult for anyone to break that. His eyes weren't gleaming anymore, but rather had a dullness to them. "I wasn't the one in charge. I tried to get Fury to take action, but he didn't. I was under orders not to take it into my own hands."

Peter jumped up from his chair along the wall and hopped into the conversation, "Out of everything else you don't follow, you chose to follow that order?"

"It was before my risk taking era. You don't know what it is like to be working directly under Fury. So try putting yourself in my shoes," he challenged.

I pointed at him and scowled. "In your shoes? You don't know how I felt. You don't know what it's like to be in my shoes. To watch my parents die from some fucking test and then have my life changed forever by being able to copy another mutant's powers just by touching them was a nightmare from the beginning. Try having that serum in you, changing your body temperatures drastically for hours. Then you can tell me how it's impacted your life and why you're here." I forced myself not to get all up in his face and began to walk out. "Don't ask me why I'm here. Just be glad I'm on your side."

"I want to see you here bright and early tomorrow morning for training," he called out from behind me. His tone of voice hadn't changed at all. He didn't care about my story or what I went through. He talked to me like a trouble maker or just another kid on the street.

I unclenched my fists in an attempt to let go of the hate and anger. Getting on his bad side wasn't going to help me, but I had to clear my mind before I saw him again. Maybe I would understand his side of the story.

Maybe I wouldn't.

I was going to stay with the Avengers, even if it meant putting up with Agent Coulson.

"Yes sir," I replied before I left the room.