THE REDHEADED ASSASSIN threw punch after punch, all three of them being caught by Calla before they could land on her face. The girl quickly retaliated, holding onto Natasha's arm and attempting to swipe her legs out from under her, but the woman caught on. Calla let out a grunt as she was forcefully (yet gently) tossed to the side, landing on the edge of the blue mat. The girl quickly jumped up and regained her stance as if she hadn't just been skillfully maneuvered by her trained-assassin-friend. 

Calla had been training under Natasha since the day she moved into the Avengers tower, as Nick Fury was pretty adamant about the girl starting as soon as possible. Perhaps it was because he wanted her to be able to protect herself should the world come close to ending again. Or, perhaps it was because the girl desperately needed an outlet to quiet down her slowly increasing powers, that neither he nor S.H.I.E.L.D as a whole were familiar with. 

. . . It was probably both.

Calla quickly studied the redhead in front of her, trying to find her weakness like Natasha had always told her to do. Study, reflect, attack.

Suddenly, the girl lunged forward and threw a right-handed punch, which Natasha easily caught. She grabbed the woman's arm with her left hand, and reciprocated with another punch from her right - finally landing a hit on Natasha. For a split second the woman looked proud, as a hint of a smirk appeared on her face. The combat training was definitely paying off. 

Calla was finally able to switch into offensive mode instead of defensive, as she spun into a roundhouse kick. Natasha dodged it, and the girl followed up with a set of blows that landed directly in the woman's palms. 

Calla was good . . . but not as good as Natasha. In what seemed like milliseconds, the girl was swiped off of her feet and landed back-first on the protective cushioning of the sparring ring. Her hair stuck to her damp forehead, with loose ends swirling along her neck. 

The girl groaned as Natasha threw her a water bottle that she drank gratefully, still lying on the now sweat-covered mat. "Ouch."

"Hey, that was good - you're getting better, Cal. That's a whole two minutes longer than last time," the redhead said, glancing down at Calla as she held the water bottle to her forehead like her life depended on it.

"Thanks, Nat," the girl replied, grabbing onto the redheads extended hand and hoisting herself up. "I just wish I could figure out my powers so that I could be more help in missions . . . like Sokovia," she said as her eyes scanned the ground.

"You're a kid, Cal," Natasha reasoned. "Nothing that happened in Sokovia was your fault."

"I know, but I could've done more. As long as I'm at a deadlock with my powers, I can always do more," the girl responded. After losing her mother and sister, Calla's only influences were the Avengers and the occasional check-in from Nick Fury. After all, they were tasked with training her and keeping her in check, out of HYDRA's reach. Calla wanted nothing more than to help people like they did - to protect the little guy. But for the most part, at least for now, all she could do was kick in a few bad guys' skulls and keep them occupied while the Avengers did all the real work. "I'm gonna head to the warehouse to keep practicing. Can you tell Wanda to meet me there?"

"Of course," Natasha nodded as she offered a small grin.

"Thanks," Calla squeaked as she sprinted off toward her own separate, little training center.

-•-•-

As she pushed open the doors to the warehouse, the familiar scent of decaying chlorophyll filled her nose. At this point, Calla didn't really know whether to loathe it or welcome it. On one hand, it meant that she was getting stronger in terms of her wilting-inducement, but on the other hand, it smelled awful. It was a tough call.

She eyed the various windowsills and wooden tables that filled the open space, most of them littered with many, many brown-colored flowers. Roses, daffodils, even the occasional calla lily (which Tony found absolutely hilarious). 

The girl stood in front of yet another rickety oakwood table with a potted begonia set atop it. Calla shook her head, narrowing her eyes at the beautiful, dark pink petals that adorned the emerald stems. She felt her blood begin to chill - a sure sign that it was working. Within seconds, her naturally soft blue irises swirled with shades of haunting amethyst, and her pupils dilated erratically. Then, those same dark pink petals turned brown, just like the rest of the fleet. 

"Sorry, begonia," she muttered, and triumphantly fist-pumped the air. 

Deciding that now was as good of a time as any to practice her death-force manipulation, the girl walked over the far end of the warehouse and sat down on the hard, cement floor. Calla closed her eyes, held her hands up parallel to her crossed legs, and focused. She focused on the bouts of arctic blood that rushed through her chest like shockwaves. She focused on that dreaded feeling of a deep, black void of which could suction you up without hesitating. And she focused on the three spirits whom she actually knew: her mother, her father, and her sister. 

Perhaps if she focused on them - no matter how much she tried to push away their memory - then the rest of the spirits would follow. With extended hands, Calla latched onto the feeling of what could only be described as death. Her heart fluttered, and her hands began to shake. Whatever death was, it certainly was not a good feeling. And, as soon as that feeling came, it vanished, leaving nothing more than a few black sparks in it's wake.

"Dammit," Calla said as her chest heaved up and down, slumping against the wall behind her. She had been practicing - or at least attempting to practice - this side of her power for months, but her progress was limited. By now, the teen was beginning to think that she was defective - a simple tchotchke from a 99¢-Store that refused to work, no matter how many different times you changed the batteries or slammed it against a table.

"Maybe the spirits are just having an off-day," Wanda replied from the opposite end of the warehouse, seemingly having crept in at some point. In the last few months, she had been trying to help Calla access her powers with more ease and concentration, as she was the only other person on the team with psionic abilities - like Calla.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure they're real busy in the underworld, or wherever the hell spirits exist," she replied, taking her brunette hair of the high ponytail that had been giving her a headache for the past couple of hours.

"Practice makes perfect, right? It isn't easy to learn how to use your powers. It took me months and months," Wanda added, offering Calla a supportive half-smile. The two had gotten extremely close in the last few months, what with all of the hours of daily training and all.

Calla sighed, knowing that her friend was right. "I know. It's just frustrating, I guess," she said, moving to sit next to Wanda. "My mom was able to use her powers like it was second nature to her. There was this one time when we were heading home after school, we took the subway instead of walking. We ended up getting lost and wandered into a really sketchy area. It wasn't that big of a deal, but some guy tried to take my mom's purse. She just turned around, held up her hands, and threw him against a wall with her powers. She was able to call upon a bunch of spirits like it was nothing, and all I'm able to do is wilt a bouquet of flowers."

"Hey," Wanda said, gaining the attention of Calla. "I bet your mom would be super proud of you for even trying to control the powers you inherited from her and your sister. Besides, us enhanced's have got to stick together, right?"

Calla let her defeated look morph into a small attempt at a half-smile. "Right."

Suddenly, their restful silence was cut short by Steve shoving open the doors. "Sorry to interrupt, but we just got a hit on Rumlow. You've got three minutes; suit up."

". . . He forgot to say Avengers, assemble."

-•-•-

this was more power-oriented than anything, which is why it took me a little while to write. I can't wait for Cal and Peter to meet oml they're gonna be so CUTE. #pal will be rising soon enough