Post Civil War

She was barely breathing. She was doing her best to ignore her heartbeat which pounded in her chest and reverberated in her head. She hissed at the sting of pain as she held a bloody hand to her face. That damn Hydra bitch had cut her cheek. The nerve of that lowly scum. She never gets beaten down, never. Once she has gathered her strength, that Hydra agent and the rest of her little party will truly know what it's like to be torn from limb to limb…

They will know what it's like to have everything they lived for destroyed one by one. She would be the one who saw to it. A new wave of pain swept through Julan's eyes as she felt a fresh batch of tears leaking to the sides of her now bloody cheek. She wanted to scream at herself for the show of vulnerability.

She couldn't cry now, not when basically all of her team members were dead and she was now laying over a dump of bodies. She laughed at her state, but the only sound that came through her lips was a ragged croak.

This was the great Lady Chrysanth, now reduced to a bumbling, bloody mess. She vaguely heard footsteps approaching her, but she doesn't bother to turn her head. She could conjure a Tao Mandala and slit their throats right then and there. But she remained still, eyes heavy with crying. The figure stopped his advances, towering over her fragile body. Funny, how had it been merely a week earlier, Julan would've crushed them for even daring to approach her in this manner.

But the her now just stared straight into nothingness, with her mouth agape, gasping for breath.

The figure kneeled down to her level, extending his hand as if trying to comfort her. His hand didn't quite reach her as he pulled away as fast as he had reached out. That finally snapped her back into reality. She scrunched up her face, further distorting her features as she glared right back at him.

It was the kitty cat who had come to laugh at her demise.

Julan hauled herself to a sitting position and let out an airy laugh. "If it isn't Tony Stark's lapdog, or should I say...lapkitten?" The figure above her didn't respond to her insult. It would seem that even in this state, Lady Chrysanth wanted her pride intact.

"You know," she drawled, "Imma let you off the hook this time, hmm. Usually people would get their heads chopped off for even trying to spot me like this." She waved her hand in a slicing motion, giggling at the silliness of it.

She felt herself seeping more into autopilot the longer he stayed silent. Her dried tears left mascara marks all over her face; she probably looked like a clown at this point. He was still silent. Until he opened his mouth, his smooth accent was as familiar as ever.

"'I'm sorry." Was all he said. That was all it took to send her into a seething rage. Was letting him witness her sorry state not painful enough? Must he add another socially correct behavior into the setting?

"Get out before I change my mind about killing you." Julan snarled. The Black Panther didn't flinch at her harsh tone. His cowl fizzled and retracted, showing the pair of dark purple eyes. With a deep sigh, he stood back.

Looking over her shoulders where the dead boy lay sprawled, he closed his eyes. "Come with me."

He ruined his chances. Julan lunged at him with full speed, Tao Mandalas out and spinning with fury, before she felt her head go blank and her vision splattered with black dots. She tried to curse but her mouth went slack and her arms became jelly. Fear overtook her as she stumbled into the bloodied dirt once again. This time, she felt sick. Nausea brimmed at the edge and the cramps from her side refused to leave. She tried to lift her head, but to no avail. She was done for. She was going to be locked up like some animal in a circus like Bucky. That couldn't happen. That will not happen.

The avenger shook his head and bent down. Julan felt herself being lifted from the ground and encaged within an iron grasp. He was carrying her away. Away to hell.

She tried to fight it, hands desperate to channel whatever energy that was left to stick a Tao blade into His Majesty's royal trachea. But her body refused to obey, and exhaustion was finally catching up to her: that one final attempt to attack did her in. Panic rose to her chest and she desperately tried to fight off her tears once again.

She can give up her freedom for the rest of her life later. But not like this. Not when she still hasn't avenged anyone who she cared about. Everyone just kept dying and she just kept killing. She was tired of people leaving, people dying, being angry. The anger was eating her out from within. She wanted to stop being angry, and all that left was fear.

For the second time in her life, Lady Chrysanth begged for mercy.

"Please, don't let them hurt me." She whispered, before finally succumbing into a deep slumber, and her grip on his arm went slack.