Work Text
Paranoia
‘He stroked the shadowy curtain of her hair, but there was dread in his fingertips, a fear in his tentative touch. An unsettling worry. She had warm features, and a contrasting sharp nose, complementing, he bore the same kind of beak settled betwixt his hard-angular face. Pointed and sharp, they faced each other as birds.
"I wonder about you Munin," he confessed again. The beauty had a tendency for doing as she desired without thinking things through to the fullest. She had an unrequited rebelliousness that he could never stop. If he did, she would no longer be herself. The person he so loved.
"You could spend all the time in the world thinking Hugin, but how would that be living?" Munin countered, then again, if Hugin didn't wonder as he did, he wouldn't be the one she loved either. They worried for each other greatly, but isn't that what love -rhtrhrfhhnmfmfnfnf dmd-?’
Your writing came to an abrupt and unwanted stop. You had been on a roll. You had been feeling it, knowing it. Its vivid images had flashed like cue cards in your mind. The picture reel had ripped clean in two.You closed your eyes for a moment's repose before glaring at the furry offender. The biggest green eyes stared back. The rude little creature stood with a prideful air atop your mechanical keyboard. He then gave a graceful stretch, pressing more keys as he did so. You rolled your eyes.
‘You should reprimand him this time. Throw him out the window, see if cats really do land on all-fours.’
“You would,” you murmured to the velvety voice.Your laptop was a peculiar thing, it had an emerald glow that flickered in its air vents and between keys. It was reasonably safe; but should a cat be standing on it? –Probably not?No, you wouldn't give in to those green eyes again. You gave a stubborn stiff upper lip, he replied by bunting your face; gifting hair up your nose and drool upon your cheek. Damn it—he knew exactly how to play you. You let out a defeated sigh trying to snuff the hair from your nose. You scratched him behind the ears and wiped cat drool from your face simultaneously.
‘You’re too soft, it will never learn.’
“He, he will never learn, and I don’t expect him to. He is a cat.”Sebastian had been your only visitor for years. He was a man of mystery, blowing in and out of your window as he pleased. And he deserved at least as scratch behind the ears, what with you being at least seven stories up. You wouldn't admit it to yourself; because admitting would be accepting—he was possibly your only friend.
‘What would that make me?’
You shrugged to yourself. That was a question you’d rather leave unexplored.You gave a stretch yourself, your eyes locking on the clock at the bottom right of your computer screen. You had been writing for a while; time was a construct imagination had no respect for. You offered an arm to the ebony boy and he took it. He climbed expertly, stepping regally until he met with your shoulder where he happily perched. Shouldered there, he rubbed his face against yours making sure to leave more mounds of fur up your nose.Sebastian always had this strangely masculine scent about him. It covered you like a shroud as he sat on your shoulders. Either his previous owner was a man, or he had a secondary owner on the side—not that you were jealous or anything...‘I don’t trust it, it could be sleeping with anyone—and could have caught any kind of disease doing it!’ Velvet scrutinised. ‘Look at it; it's clearly diseased.’ “Whatever you say,” you extended more affection Sebastian’s way in defiance.You kicked away from your desk and the wheels of your computer chair met with balding carpet. You felt Sebastian's weight adjust appropriately as he kept balance, his claws digging in deep into your thick pyjamas.You padded from your seat and absently gazed out the window. You could feel the carpet between your toes, so soft, so calming, yet that window... On impulse, you adjusted a pair of thick glasses that constantly sat at the bridge of your nose. The glasses were squarish. They amplified your eyes slightly, but not enough that you couldn't possibly see out of them.You were the cat’s vehicle as you made your way to the front door, he knew what was coming. It was routine. You bent down and the clever cat stayed perched with ease. There were two envelopes on your doormat; a nasty looking bill and a letter from your publisher.'New book is selling very well, just where do you get these ideas?!' The words gushed. Your publisher was probably a nice lady, well, you say 'lady'—personally, you had no idea, you had never met the person. The letter was filled to the brim of false pleasantries and complimentary remarks. The letter’s true agenda lurked at the bottom. ‘When should we be expecting the story you're currently working on? Next month would be a lovely time to release a new book!’ You rolled your eyes, it's not like you did much else than write, still: they were vultures.
‘You should set it on fire, and send them back the ashes, wouldn’t that be fun?’
“I wish.”
‘You wish what?’
You wish you could be the kind of person that would go through with some of Velvet’s dumb ideas without remorse. You huffed yet another sigh. You often sighed; you sometimes questioned if you did it more than breathing. You tossed the letter aside unsinged. You took to writing naturally and you happily shared stories with the rest world; as long as they left you out of it.Your home had a happy scent of paper and pen ink, old books, and worn carpets. It was isolated and cosy. Perfect. You looked to another clock; it was nearing six. This clock was wooden, equally as wooden as the cabinet it sat upon, but without the same shade of stain.Your television sat beneath the wooden clock, crowded by books, and was a few models away from being new; and that was being kind. The television was almost as thick as is was wide, but it worked ‘alright’. As it was still ‘functioning’, there was no point in getting a new one—you’d reasoned this to yourself often enough.
‘You could get home delivery.’
“They would want me to sign for it—then they’d want to install it. They’d be here for hours.”Velvet only made a disgruntled sound.You had to crouch to press the power. The TV turned on with a dirty thunk of electricity. Okay, so it was very, very kind to say it was a few models away from new. You had to fix it a couple of times and were able to tweak a few things. You not only got the usual channels but also ones you maybe—probably, should be paying for. There was a triumph about stealing from those on the outside.As you perched on your couch, your stomach gave a sudden growl.
‘You should eat.’
“I’m not hungry.”‘Your stomach would beg to differ.’“I’ll eat tomorrow,” you grumbled.The six o'clock news then booted up with its usual chime.Your breath hitched. It was footage of last year's invasion, had it really been a full year since New York was home to an invasion of the Chitauri? Sebastian became disturbed as your shoulders hunched and fell as if of their own accord. Huge, fanged monsters filled the skies above Stark Tower. Leviathan. People's screams filled the air. Your breath shallowed, a lump grew in your throat. Hands sweated. You could feel the creature’s eyes on you.
‘It’s not real.’
“It was real.”You lived on the outskirts of New York City, somewhere you wouldn't quite classify as 'in town', where the population wasn’t very dense, and the rent was cheap. It was usually quiet. But that day, though it was easily miles and miles away from where you were, you heard the screaming, the crying out, the weeping. The sounds of death. Your hands shook.
‘Breathe.’
“I am breathing!” you hissed. Your throat restricted. Countering, you came to drink in air through large huffs.
‘Not like that!’
Gatherings of people were replenishing old flowers for thousands fallen in the onslaught. Too much oxygen rushed your brain. Dizziness set in and you tried holding onto the couch as an anchor.
‘What did I tell you?’
“You t-try piloting this meaty construct,” you puffed, motioning to your body. “It isn’t always rational!”Seb helplessly wound himself, pacing your shoulders; helping in his own way. The knot in your stomach lessened slightly as a frame of heroes entered the news story. They hadn't yet been named as a group, but you couldn't not learn their names from headlines alone. Inadvertently, they were your saviours. You slowed your breathing, clenching your fists. More of the heroes' plights came after.‘There you go; all dewy-eyed again,’ Velvet made a disgusted noise.Tony Stark with his impressively groomed facial hair was in the Middle East as ‘Iron Man’ rebuilding structures.
‘Is it completely necessary for him to wear the suit for such a meagre task?’
“That red and gold suit is a beacon of hope.”
‘bleh.’
Next came Steve Rogers, the blond with the body carved by angels. He was meeting with sick kids, bringing smiles to their faces before explaining to the cameras how he was only doing his duty to his fellow man. His words were proper, and he had an intense kindness to his blue eyes.‘‘Only doing my duty for my fellow country-men,’’ Velvet mimicked childishly. ‘Doesn’t he know there are women in America too?’“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that,” you excused before a judgemental silence. “Well, he is from the forties.”Then your mind lead to how he had really been carved; in a laboratory. Your hands still jittered in your lap, that would be horrible—to be cut up in a lab. Nervous eyes went to the window once more. You touched your glasses to the bridge of your nose accordingly. Was it safe?
‘Yes, it’s safe.’
Ignoring Velvet, you got up so suddenly your stray friend had to cling on for dear life. You went into your bedroom, closing the door behind, turning and unturning the knob a couple of times. It had to be closed. You then did the same with your walk-in wardrobe's door, turn, unturn and turn again. It had to be closed.There, in the back of the closet was a chest. Green eyes watched as you unclasped and opened the compartment. There were many books, a couple of old papers with transcripts upon them, passports, money and different keepsakes, memories; good and bad.
‘Look, I already told you!’
Beneath the papers was a nondescript, clear, old glass orb. It stood alone, it was plain and meant nothing to anyone else but you. Your hand brushed over it, smooth and cool to the touch, safe and sound.Next to the crystal ball was an old, metal pressed tablet; it was about the size of your forearm in length and was crudely crafted. Hurriedly made, leaving uneven, crumbled edges. Pressed into the molten metal were symbols, symbols you weren’t sure you could read.This had to have been made quickly, yet the people who created the tablet wanted it to last the ages. Your hand brushed over it, there was something there, old and forgotten. Safe and sound, safe and sound. Your mind repeated the phrase over and over. “Safe and sound,” you breathed.***Nights were quiet for some—but not you. Crickets chirped, the wind picked up and the old lady two floors away with that nasal condition was snoring up a storm. Not that you would complain. That required interaction and you weren’t made for it.Worst was the streetlight across the road that gave a zrrt, zrrt, thunk, of displaced electricity as it flickered. And the smells that drifted from the window. The garbage from the alley beside. The day’s old, crusted breads given to the streets by the bakery across the way.You had lived in that apartment for the longest time; you knew how to manage. You had a pair of headphones which dampened out the sound, and smooth notes of your favourite music would wash over you. Laying on your front had your face full of pillow so that all you could smell was the aroma of your home infused with the yummy shampoo you buy from an online supermarket. Bless home delivery and virtual signage.Something was missing from this nightly ritual. You felt around for a pair of velvet ears and came up with nothing. There was no other weight was on the bed. He was your only friend, probably your only ever bed buddy. Yet, where was he? You had these rituals for a reason; it was safe. Sebastian was always there, without fail.
‘Good riddance.’
Loneliness dumped on you like a bucket of ice water, it drenched you so that your clothes clung to you and made you feel heavy.
‘Don’t mope! I bet the little bugger is just sleeping with its other owner.’
“No, he is always here,” you were adamant.You got up and gave your hovel a once over. There was no sign of the little demon. You then went to the window, your eyes skittering around. Lingering you found yourself looking for more than your lost companion in the streets below. You were greeted with nothing more than what you initially searched for.The silky, black cat sat in the middle of the road, streetlights shining in the sheen of his pelt. The middle of the road. Where cars are supposed to go. You stared in disbelief
‘What is that little idiot doing? How has he lasted so long without street smarts?’
“He is going to get himself killed!”
‘I wouldn’t go that far—'
You start to pace. You tracked a highway of worn carpet that ran the length of your apartment.
‘No one drives around here, it’s too late and too desolate.’
“That only means no one cares how fast they go around here. There aren’t any speed cameras.”You peered down again, he had propped a leg up and started licking his—oh dear.‘It won’t be moving for a while,’ Velvet conceded.You liked Sebastian because you were indeed a cat person. As a cat person, by definition, you were self-proclaimed selfish. You live alone, for yourself. You couldn't handle it if your cat was taken by a car.Your hands were restless, you wrung them out on the bottom of your nightshirt. You figured you should try calling for him. You didn't often raise your voice, you wondered if you could even make it loud enough for him to hear."Sebastian~!" You called from the window. You could feel your voice as it echoed from all the spaces in between and you shrunk back from the window. What if you got more attention than you desired? You ducked slightly below the sill. You lost the notion when the cat looked up from his grooming. You met those great, green orbs before he lazily flopped to the other side for another angle on his grooming.You put a palm to your forehead.
‘Cats.’
You-you had to leave the house. That's all there was to it. Though you thought it calmly enough, you felt as if your entire body had encountered a brick wall. You wanted to weasel out of it.
‘Yes! Finally, leaving this rotten apartment—for a cat(?) It doesn’t matter! You can do this; it’s been an age since you stepped out.’
“—I can’t.”‘I guess Sebastian will just have to get used to looking like beetroot chutney then,’ Velvet passed off.Your best friend was out there, on the road, and every second, the next car to pass by your building was coming closer. You chewed at the inside of your cheek, it hurt, but it was grounding.You growled, pulling on an old, hardly worn jacket. It was green, knee-length, had a dress cut, and a modest collar with perfect pearl buttons. You held out your hand to the doorknob, this was it, you were at your slice of heaven’s gates. Your hand retracted almost instantly as if you were burnt on contact, or the knob had transformed into the hairiest spider to ever exist.“Damn it.” Your legs gave a dance, stomping the ground like a child having a tantrum.Your thoughts went to your small friend, he was right there from day one when you finally found a little spot of your own to settle down in, away from all the horrors. His green eyes had shone up at you, it was like he knew you from a glance and what you had lived through.
‘Well, I still hate it, perhaps it could serve more of a purpose as strawberry jam?’
You shoved up your sleeves with renewed ambition, “It is dark, no one is around, I’m fine, I’m great”. You opened the door, a pair of scarcely used, shiny keys came from out of the pocket of your jade coat. You locked the door and unlocked and locked again. Safe and sound, safe and sound.You began tearing ass down the stairs. You didn't like elevators, the way they screeched, or at least how the one in this building did. To be trapped in the same space as someone else for the ride down. Imagine getting stuck! No, thank you. Stairs were safe and probably quicker.The streets were an eerie black. The moon hadn't even bothered to come out that night. In the blackness came the flickering of the less-than-reliable streetlight. Even someone without heightened senses could tell the street was shady on that night.Sebastian still laid in the middle of the road showing you his soft belly.
‘Prat.’
He knew what he had done, knew he had brought you out there, and you were less than impressed. You crouched down by him, lifting him under his arms and into yours.The little monster started purring. At least one of you was happy. All you wanted to do then was go back to your warm bed.
‘_______, move!’
That's when you saw the bright of the headlights on the asphalt. It was already too close for you to get out of its way. You had to make a split decision. Your stomach plummeting and heart racing, you turn your back to it in hope of protecting your cat. It hit at speeds beyond the road's restrictions, slamming into you.You didn't even budge, your legs stayed grounded as if you were rooted to the ground. The black cat struggled from your arms, leaving bloody claw marks in his wake. He was unaware that you had intended to save him, he just knew what he had seen; a car had collided with a person, and the car was the only one unsalvageable.Bones popped back into place with a nasty snapping. Crimson filled the road and you tumbled forward.
‘You need to get out of here.’
You shook your head numbly. “They will know, they will find me,” you brought your knees to your chest. There was no way of stopping the panic that ensued. A fear ate away at you, darkening your vision.
‘Don’t give up. You need to run!’
Those green eyes, those you thought understood, looked on accusingly and frightened.“Please,” you choked on a whisper, “don’t leave.”The cat’s hair stood on end. It ran, not because of the near-death experience, but because of you. You were a monster.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
ThemLate local news never had much excitement going for it, and that was why you didn’t bother staying up to watch it. Well, not anymore. You still knew the music that proceeded it. The chime pulled you from your dreamless sleep. You were in the throes of slumber, body aching as you strained to listen to the television some rooms away.“We come to you with news of a miraculous collision on the outskirts of the city.” Spoke the news presenter, “the speeding vehicle crashed into pedestrian outside Hilde’s Bakery around eight o’clock, the car swerved and hit the person on the passenger side, and both pedestrian and driver have walked away with minimal injuries. Always good to hear good news isn’t it?”Holy crap that happened! You sat up abruptly, taking in your surroundings. It was bright and sterile. Your mind reeled. You could smell hand sanitiser and a mustiness of old sick that no chemical could cover. In your arm was a drip, and on your finger was a heart monitor that blipped away in the corner.
‘You have to get out.’
“For once, we agree on something,” you ground out.You were the solitary resident of your room, but the door was open. You quickly ducked back down to a sleeping position as you watched a nurse pass by and began long breaths to fight against the manic beeping of the heart monitor. Of course, they want you isolated from everyone else.Hell, they wouldn’t trust you with a regular nurse; they would likely have some Jurassic Park looking veterinarian with a tranquiliser gun. They would shoot you, then helicopter you to a lab on liberty island where they would… would… breed you into a whole different homunculus of a dinosaur. The monitor was absolutely pinging in the background.‘Really, writers aren’t meant to be locked up; they do all the torturing to themselves.’ Okay, homunculus dinosaur was rather ridiculous; however, you did bet on there being laboratory involved if you were caught by the wrong people. You could sense there was a lot about you a scientist would like—to chop up. You weren’t going to allow that; your two objects at home needed you.You peeked around again, measuring distances. Okay, this was a possible feat, there were bars on the windows, and they would be loud to remove, but with a distraction, you could perform it. The distraction was an easy choice, as you lay down, through the doorway, on the wall opposite was a fire alarm. You had seen enough movies to say, “bingo!” but very, very quietly.With the ‘quick like a band-aid’ mentality, you ripped the drip from your arm. Then clamped a hand over your mouth against any and all loud swears that wanted to surface. Why the hell did they do that in movies? Blood spurted from your arm. That; was precisely why there was no way you were going to be some scientist’s guineapig.With all the discretion you could muster, you removed the heart monitor clamped to your finger—and quickly replaced it when the machine in the corner started flat-line screeching. You scrutinised the monitor for a moment before creeping from the hospital bed to yank its power cord from the wall. Right, you were free from the machines. You skidded to hide behind the doorframe.“Doctor!” came a voice of a nurse that made you jump. The man in question was peering into your room from outside, inches from discovering you. “Doctor!” you heard him hurry down the hall, “the patient from the car crash, she is missing!” you hear his voice get further and further away.
‘As far as distractions go, I am sure that would suffice.’
The hospital outside your door was turning into a ruckus. Many muffled steps were approaching. You had to move. You dashed for the window; the sill gave way with an ugly squeaking of old paint. As the fresh night air circled you, you took the bars with two hands and shoved them with all you had. The rusted bolts groaned loudly but gave way to land on a footpath below. Lucky for you, no one had been on that footpath. You hadn’t thought to look before launching the iron out the window.“Hey!” you turned to find a bewildered-looking doctor in a white coat standing in the doorframe.You flashed him the look of a helpless deer before glancing out the window; you didn’t have time to judge the fall. They couldn’t take you.“Don’t!” his brow reached for his hairline.But you did; you jumped. Your writer’s brain often romanticised falling from a window. Falling in a white linen dress and landing on a horse below and you would ride into the night, Wesley by your side. As you wish~ In reality, you fell harshly. Your ankle made a sickening crunch, and there was no one there to catch you, only a stunned doctor looking down at you. You couldn’t give your ankle the time it needed. You had to run for it.They would be after you.***Your apartment was quiet; it felt alien to you. Your sanctuary had been desecrated. Or was it your illusion of safety that had left you? You would have to leave this place and never return.Sebastian was nowhere in sight. You had expected as much.
‘It was just some stupid cat anyway.’
“Yeah.”
‘Just some stupid, dumb, ugly cat.’
“Exactly.” You had never loved him, hell, you didn’t even like him. “Without that cat around, I could write forever, without anyone bothering me!” the words soured on your tongue, and your throat constricted. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself you were better off without Sebastian, your heart only sunk lower.‘It’s too quiet,’ Velvet warned.You had been lost in melancholy thought, heading to pack your things, when you realised how quiet it was. You had made good time, though you took as many back alleys as you could, it was only hinting at midnight, and so you expected the lady doors down to be snoring up a storm, expected the chirping of crickets and the sound of late hooning cars.
‘They’re here.’
You stilled. They were the incarnation of your fear, those who saw you lock your door to the outside world. You urged to collect the two objects from your walk-in, but you would only give up their position. The shadows had eyes. Nonchalantly, you walked out of your apartment as if you had simply forgotten something. They can't know. That orb was too precious, that tablet, far too dangerous. Even if it meant in the end, they caught you.When you were on the other side of the threshold once more, you bolted like a gazelle from lions. Your bare feet slapped against the vinyl flooring of the corridor as you went.They had cleared everyone from the near vicinity. There were no sounds of sleep, no TVs late into the night, no radios. Not even a car. It took true power to pull something like that, power only they could wield.What did they think was going to happen that warranted clearing the entire block of residents? What weaponry could they wield to expect such destruction? You clench your jaw along with your hands to stop the jittering.They would be waiting for you at the building's opening, something you realised on your way down the stairs. You instead got off on the second floor, and as jumping from the last window was still fresh in your mind, you launched yourself from another. Your body still hurt from the previous bodged landing.As you landed, your same poor ankle bent on a wrong angle, and you crumpled to land on your rear. The break started to heal immediately, but a rose bush had the final laugh as it punctured your skin with thorns.
‘You’re a cactus-butt.’
“And you’re not helping,” you gritted your teeth. Your foot throbbed, and it took everything not to cry out and alert everyone to your whereabouts. You took off at a laboured sprint.You could feel them behind you like a monster that lurked in the dark. You could hear their movement—it hadn’t mattered whether you had cried out or not. They gave up the charade, no longer concealing themselves and their steps came heavily in the night.You had never actually seen them, only felt them—read of them online. You had wished it was only paranoia. You had to lead them away from your home and your treasure. You didn't have any ability to fight, but that didn't mean you wouldn't go down without one.You ran. Ran as hard and fast as you could with your foot paining you as it did. The pavement and roads dug at your feet that were used to nothing but carpet. The night’s air was cold as you cut through it. Your green coat trailed in the wind behind you, and your heart pounded loudly in your ears; you could feel them closing in.You prayed to the gods of coordination; your apartment hadn’t exactly held the room to practise running without tripping. You had a heightened endurance, but that would not stand against people like these; they had been explicitly trained to take someone like you down.You came to a clearing, a park or an oval(?) It was too dark to differentiate as the streetlights were left behind, but you could feel the moist grass between your toes. You ran headlong into darkness; your machinations of laboratories and dino-hybids were the only fumes you had left to run on.You skidded to a halt, only because your legs failed to listen to you and your left ankle screamed at you to stop. Safe and sound. Safe and sound. You would be far enough from your precious treasure; they couldn’t know what you had hidden away.And that's when you finally saw the men. The men who had hunted you for so long, who saw you hide, who had come to bring you finally to justice.A dreary sting began behind your eyes; the past years were the happiest you had known. Your legs quivered. The squad was dressed head to toe in a dark night's camouflage. They came into formation around you. There was no possible escape. You saw a glint of metal handcuffs.
‘They’ll lock you up.’
“They will.”
‘They stole your life from you.’
“They did.” You felt a disgusting rush.
‘Make them feel it.’
“I will.” To the closest, you gave a swift kick to the shin. It welcomed the kick with an unbearable snapping sound. You were a coward; this wasn't bravery; it was survival.Seeing what you had done to his friend, another faceless, blacked-out man lunged at you.Dodging him, you used his own momentum against him, throwing him in some direction where he landed with a thud. You had no style; you were clumsy.
‘They’ve reduced you to nothing more than an animal!’
You let loose a feral sound.Two men flanked you on either side, you slipped between with a jolt of speed before pushing their bodies together; they only parted to fall to the ground. This feeling, this feeling of battle—you knew it well, you reminisced in it, a stomach-churning bloodlust blossomed within you.
‘You’re beautiful.’
There was a sudden splitting pain in your arm that had you hiss like a wounded tiger. You turned to see a figure hovering with a knife above your forearm. You knocked his arm away with such force that the blade became dislodged from his grip and fell to the ground. You reached for the knife before kicking your leg high, connecting with the man’s chest. You didn't need style or discipline when you had brute strength.The man was flung to the ground by sheer force. You held the knife in your hand and rounded on him with murderous intent and boiling blood. You felt hot all over from rage.
‘He is your enemy. He made you give your life away. Made you fear the outside world.’
The constant state of being afraid; it was exhausting.
‘He did this to you. All of them did.’
The soldier looked up to see a gleam of a smile. A predator’s shining teeth and the moonlight in your eyes. This was his end. You; you were a monster.
‘Do it!’
In the pathetic light of the moon, you faintly saw his face. The fear in his eyes. You had seen those eyes before when you had... What were you doing? The manic grin faded in an instant.‘What are you doing ______? Finish it, be free!’There were many things you thought you were; selfish, paranoid, cowardly, obsessive... But cruel you were not—if you could help it. They could have you, but not as the monster they believed you to be. You dropped the knife, and it sunk into the soft ground.You braced your shaking body before you were pinned to the ground by many other bodies, tackled like a quarterback at a standstill. Your breathing became uneven underneath the human pancake stack. You wanted to make for the foetal position, but the gang of people didn't allow it.So cold, so alone, not even your cat beside you. You could smell the soil and burning grass. As your conscience faded. The last thing you was your glasses, they had come dislodged from you’re the bridge of your nose, they were already scratched from the accident with the car. They found their end with a clean snap of one steel-capped boot.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Living a LieYou were toasty warm, and the bed hugged you all over. You could barely feel your body's wear. You woke with a happy stretch, your eyes still closed, trying to catch the tendrils of some dream. You didn't feel like writing today. You would pick up a book, lose reality and become a hero, all in the space of your bedroom.
‘Something’s wrong. Wake up!’
Your usual music drifted through the air; you tried to get your headphones off groggily. But they weren't coming off. Your hand mashed at your ear for a while before realising there weren't any headphones on you.‘Wake up!’You squinted in your surroundings only to be met with a pair of blue eyes firing back at you. He was by the end of your bed and was studying you. You slowly blinked. Who the hell was this guy? You scrambled backwards in alarm, your back hitting the headboard.He was on the shorter side; his hair was a little receding. He held those same kind blue eyes that reminded you of a certain Captain. Though he looked a bit older than the star-spangled boy in blue, and he sported a strict black suit instead of stars.Why was he in your house? Only, you looked around; this wasn't your flat. It was a simple room, no windows to jump out of and only a bed and seat to speak of. Oh god! This was them. They knew everything, how you liked your bed, how you wanted your music, of course, they did! You could only hope they didn't know what was hidden in your cupboard. Safe and sound. Safe and sound. Your face gave a twitch.What was your best bet for escape?
‘You should threaten to set him on fire, better yet, to set his family on fire for him to watch.’
You wouldn’t be doing that. How would it be possible for starters? You would work smartly—look for an opening.All the while, the brunet man watched your expression switch from fear to anguish and finally calculation. He was usually a conservative person, very polite. But when they brought in someone 'super', he couldn't help but be excited. It reminded him of how he had the honour of watching over his childhood hero as he slept. Suppose it was a little creepy?Looking down, you noticed that you were wearing something different, a too-big white shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Was your underwear different too? Your eyes widened with comprehension.
‘Someone in this building has seen your naked bod.’
The horror. Your eyes scanned around, trying to forget the prospect of what these people might have done to you while you were unconscious.This was a ward in a hospital, it lacked the scent and the colour scheme, but the overall patronising feel was there. It was a limp cover-up. A homely cell.
‘They stripped you of your clothes, and now you’re their prisoner, demand retribution!’
After a while, it became apparent you weren't going to speak to the man, so he took it as his place to begin. "Hello, my name is Phil Coulson," he introduced.You were half paying attention; you were still looking for an escape and trying to ignore Velvet’s half-baked plans. There was only one way in or out, and it was obstructed by that man. Your nose picked ‘Phil Coulson’s’ aftershave, even body soap, this man you could tell was very clean.
‘Come on, he literally smells like a secret agent! Where are your alarm bells? The only way out of this is to fight.’
You often couldn't help smelling people; it was how you categorised threats. You could tell a lot from how someone smells, where they've been, where they're going, what they did for a living."I am an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, Shield."Your body went rigid at the name that would explain the scent. They had caught you like a little mouse. You knew then there was no hope. With their tech, there was no getting out.‘Don’t just give up sink back into bed!’But you did just that, sinking against the headboard."We're actually at Shield's base of operations in New York." He informed.Just where in New York; the city or the state? Your author's brain came up with many theories; could it be built underneath the Statue of Liberty? The side of some mountain? An invisible craft in the sky? At least you were kind of close to your apartment—You could never know with these people. You could have ended up on an island in the middle of butt-fuck-nowhere under the entire ocean.You studied Phil more closely. Why didn't he show a shred of fear towards you?‘You could rip him apart if only you had the motivation,’ Velvet moped. Why were your hands unbound? There weren’t any hidden lasers trained on you, were there?Again, as you kept your mouth buttoned, Phil Coulson took the initiative to speak further. He stood rocking on the balls of his feet awkwardly, "You're not going to ask why you're here ______?"He had a pleasant voice—is that why they gave him to you, to soothe the beast? You gave him a shrug; you weren't surprised that they knew your name. You assumed they had your fingerprint and dental records filed away too. They probably took them while you were sleeping.You didn’t need to ask; you already knew they would happily cut you up and poke your gooey bits. It would all be under the guise of reprimanding you for your past. Then perhaps they’d wipe your memory, turning you into a killer robot. Or they’d cut out organs and regrow them for those in need? Or maybe just to eat them?They had sent a small fucking army to retrieve you; you didn't expect a simple, friendly chat."We know from your circumstances if we were to recruit you in the usual way, you would go deeper into hiding." His thoughts went to a specific green rage monster they had to detain in almost the same fashion.Your head cocked in a confused sort of way. Phil Coulson went on answering your unspoken questions, "I am here to talk to you about the Avenger's initiative,"You didn't think he could crack your stoic armour, but your jaw certainly dropped. They were offering you a job?"-You have some er, natural talent that we think would be advantageous to the team." And he wished it didn't make him jealous.You shook your head like a child in denial.
‘This has to be a trick, do not fall for it.”
Yes, ‘Avenger's initiative’ were code words implying ‘we want to cut you up; we have already seen your nudey bits and want more’. But they had to make it legal, so they would make you sign something downright confusing—then Shield would literally own your soul.Coulson ignored your defiance since you weren't speaking over him; he would be heard out. "The idea is to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they can be something more. To see if they can fight the battles, we, alone, cannot."At this, you shifted still half under the covers of the bed."You would be fighting beside the world's greatest heroes."
‘Huh, you’ve never been right before—guess they really do want to turn you into their little robot.’
You didn't want to fight; you didn't want to hurt anybody—if you could help it. You felt a rush of shame for those you hurt last night.
‘Come on _____, don’t feel remorse for those who kidnapped you. I only regret you didn’t hurt them more.’
Your hands shook. If you hadn’t reeled yourself in, what massacre would you have left behind?This didn't go unnoticed by Agent. "Does the idea scare you?" There was a prominent crease between his brows as he frowned in confusion. "I saw the footage of you saving that stray cat; that car didn't even hurt you. What is there to fear?" He never had powers; he still fought the good fight. It was something he simply didn't comprehend.You shook your head again. Of course, a head-on collision with a car was going to hurt; it just wasn’t a permanent state for you. Anyone as soft and pink as him was not going to understand. It wasn't you; it was everyone around you—how fragile they were. You were living in an antique store surrounded by dainty, glass-filled shelves, and you were clumsy. You were Godzilla in china town. With a big sweeping tail and no reverse camera. You had broken things before."Are they okay?" Your unused voice was low and quiet; you couldn't look at him as you spoke. You wondered if he could hear you.Phil was taken aback that you'd actually spoken, forgetting that: that was a natural response when two humans were having a conversation. “Excuse me?” He blinked.“The soldiers,” your face pulled. Did you really want to know?"You didn't harm anyone too badly—there was a broken leg." He saw your shoulders sag at the admission. "But now he gets to take his family to Tahiti on a company-paid vacation, I think he might even thank you."You tried to weigh the pros and cons; a broken leg, and he had to go to Tahiti? You would have rathered to stay home in a book-fort. You understood you weren’t most people."I saw you drop that knife; you aren't a bad person ______," he assured. “And I believe you would be a great asset to the team.”
‘The hell does he know about you?’
You did one of your favourite things and sighed. If Coulson was to be believed, they had no reason to hold you. They had offered you a job, and you declined it. Unless it was all a ploy to lull you into a false sense of security? "If that is all-" you edged, testing, wanting to get out as soon as possible, find your treasure chest and hightail it from your known location or perhaps even the whole country."Wait—" the brunet agent came to fidget a little, a blush creeping across his face. "A personal request really—" he brought out a familiar book cover he had hidden snugly in his jacket pocket. Its title was 'to lose an eye', and one of your false names was scrolled underneath.So, they even knew about this?"C-could you sign it?" He presented you with a pen.This man was precious. Had he not worked for the likes of Shield, you might have actually liked him. Maybe if you weren't what you were, he would have liked you too?
‘Well, I don’t like him. He’s probably a stalker who only took this job to get closer to you. Are you sure that’s even your book? It could be a hidden contract.’
You were determined to ignore Velvet but gave the first pages a flick through anyway for validation. Nothing was out of place, so you obliged with your signature, saying nothing.You handed the book back, and he took it, holding it close as if it were the precious treasure in the world. "I'd wager that you'd like to get out of here then?" He gave a small smile of understanding. His job wasn't for everyone, even if you were 'super'.You stepped from the bed and went to adjust the spectacles that were forever on the bridge of your nose. Except there were no glasses on your face, and you only poked yourself in the forehead. "Uh-" Your voice only slightly raised. "-glasses-" you mumbled quietly, a little embarrassed you had raised it at all.He frowned at this again, confused. "We both know you have twenty/twenty vision _____"You blushed remarkably at this, so they knew that too?
‘I said they were an unnecessary precaution, but no, you said you felt like a superspy. You thought you were being so sneaky.’
They were your disguise, your way of looking as unthreatening as you could. "Still, I…" you avoided eye contact. You were safer with them on.
‘You’re not, though.’
Coulson reached into his other breast pocket, pulled out a little black glasses case, and passed it to you. "The psychological team said you might ask for them," he hadn't really believed them; someone as strong as you, wanting to hide?You stood looking at your new glasses. The 'psychological team' probably had a field day watching someone as warped as yourself. The glasses were as thick-rimmed as your last pair. You assumed someone in the psych team had a sense of humour because they appeared to look largely like Clark Kent's from the comic books. With them gracing your features, you felt a hint safer, even in the face of Shield.
‘You’re still not though.’
Coulson then showed you to the door with a welcoming gesture.You followed cautiously along, through corridors, at least ten doors and just as many security measures. You scrutinised everything, moving stiffly, looking for any sign of foul play, but you never came across anything. When you got to the main entrance, you stopped Coulson. "You're sure? What I did-" part of you wanted them to lock you up for your past—it's what you deserved and was safer for all involved.He knew what you were going to say and interjected, "I don't believe you are a threat, and my word is regarded quite highly around here," he informed a matter-of-factly. Though he could think of a certain playboy and gamma scientist duo that would be a little put out that they didn't get to meet you and uh—figure you out.A nondescript black van rolled up at the entrance. "This is your ride home," Coulson extended a hand, opening the door for you.You got into the car dumbly—the ‘great secret base’ you had only then exited looked like a plain building—well—by New York's standard, so it was as tall as the sky. Dull and grey; downright dull. But was that its genius? Nope, it was still dull. You were in a state of complete confusion. Was this real life? Where was the giant invisible craft the internet had promised?"Are you sure I can't convince you otherwise?" Coulson called through the still-open door.You closed the door in response. Which might have been rude, but you lacked human interaction and couldn’t tell otherwise. You looked out the window to see the agent smiling and waving. You declined his offer, and yet he smiled?‘There must be something wrong. That was just too easy.’Your instincts didn't alert you to anything amiss, and they were usually right. Then again, your instincts also told you that the baker across the way from your apartment liked to watch you sleep.You didn't get out of the van till the wheels met the curb outside your apartment building. The entire ride, you expected to take a strange turn off and be taken to a torture chamber in the city's underground.Was that it? Did they just give up? Your life was a sham. You stood in the sun of midday, questioning everything you have ever held dear as the van rolled away, leaving you there.It felt as if the entire world had started spinning in the opposite direction. Were you safe? Did you spend your life fretting for—this? Yet, there was something at the back of your mind. You need to check on them one more time.
‘You don’t have to do that. You’re finally free.’
“I’ll never be free.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chicken SammichYou stood on the footpath across from your neighbour’s bakery in the warmth of the afternoon sun; your bare feet were close to searing. Evidently, there was a limit to Shield's hospitality; you had no shoes on to go with your new, plain, jean outfit. No—they couldn't know that you preferred to go barefoot? You shivered, was there no such thing as privacy?Bastards had to be watching you somewhere. However, when Phil Coulson had said he didn't find you a liability, it seemed he’d meant it. Still, you felt something off in the air. Long-term paranoia wasn't a beast easily sated.Your legs started moving of their own accord. They knew where you had to be. You broke into a run when you entered your apartment building. Your gut twisted up into itself and the hairs on your neck stood on end.You reached for your door, and it swung loosely—you had left it open. The sun pooled through the open windows illuminating the mess that was your flat. It wasn't the usual organised chaos. Someone or something had taken all you loved and added it to a blender. Your space had been desecrated.Despite the sun's rays, it was freezing inside your home, a cold that prickled at your skin. Books were discarded around the room, and your television lay face-down on the carpet. Your laptop had been shoved aside but seemed to be one of the few things unharmed in the mess.
‘That could have been very bad.’
“It’s about to get worse.” Your stomach pinched in terror. Someone had been searching, rifling through your belongings. You ran through your lounge to your bedroom, staggering; you slipped on a copy of 'the sin eater's daughter' before falling to your knees. Your left ankle was still tender, and you didn't enjoy the feeling. Fine—you would crawl onwards.
‘You know how desperate you look, right?’
“Shut up!”Clothes littered the floor of your wardrobe, and your breath hitched; they had been there already. It had been a rushed job; they knew you were coming back.
‘Shield; it must be. They kept you overnight, separating you from your apartment so that they could search it.’
The chest was at the very back, hidden in the mess. It sat unopened and you were flooded with hope, and sure enough, your treasures were untouched within. You could have melted into a puddle of relief.To make sure, your hands longed to inspect. The smooth of the translucent sphere and the rough of the poor craftsmanship in the squashed metal tome. Safe and sound, safe and sound.
‘If they haven’t found it, they could be watching.’
You became ridged; alert. They could still be in here with you, your eyes widened in alarm. There was an unused, black duffel bag next to you in the surrounding mess. You tossed the two objects in unceremoniously along with a couple of clothes.
‘No, stay and fight!’
“I’m ditching your advice, especially after last night.” You were going to leave. You didn't know where, but you knew the first step was to get as far away from this place as possible. You stood. Bag packed with anything you could get your hands on. Thankfully, one of your credit cards was among the many documents hiding in the chest.
‘Last night? If you had listened to me, you wouldn’t be here—’
“Shh.”You could feel a presence. Whoever was hunting your objects, was in the room with you. You knew it. You could feel it underneath your skin and in the way your heart drummed. You turned… and still, you saw nothing, but they were there. They were always there waiting. You edged out of the room before taking off at a run.You knew this feeling from nightmares, a haunting chill ran through you and down your back like a rush of thousands of crawling icy spiders. You snagged your laptop on the way out. You would never stop running.***You found yourself in the middle of Brooklyn, in yet another little coffee joint with your head down. The place was doing that sixties diner thing with the plush leather seats and old T birds.
‘I’m bored.’
“Of course, you are. It’s not your life on the line.”
‘—I’m not actually sure how that works.’
You ordered a house sandwich with money you had got out of an ATM, so not to leave a paper trail—the books you had written had you quite well off, you could survive like this for a while. You chose a different order of food each time so as not to leave a ‘same order’-trail. Was it a bit pedantic? Shield was insane. Perhaps not pedantic enough then?“Stop talking to me, people keep staring.”‘Well, you should stop talking back,’ Velvet replied smugly.You huffed and patted your satchel absently. The news' opening music started playing from a television that might have been shittier than your old one. It sat above everyone in a corner. They were warning residence to be on alert if you're in Manhattan because Bruce Banner was currently residing in the Stark tower.You thought it a bit cruel; monitoring wherever a person went like that. Suppose if the media found out about you, they would have an absolute field day. They could have a segment called ‘freak watch’. Soon the plot of ‘the Truman show’ was playing morbidly in your mind.The news broadcast always had this flow of bad news and then good news, following the story on Banner, there were sightings of the man who wore the American flag for a living. Steve Rogers was taking 'selfies' with random people on the street.
‘Careful, you’re drooling~ Oh my, who would know ninety-year-old men would be your thing—wait, you don’t imagine I’m ninety, do you?’
“I try my hardest not to think of you at all,” you whispered as snappily and as quietly as you could.
‘What was that? I didn’t quite get that.’
You scowled back up at the TV, unmoved by Velvet’s ploy. It must have been hard for Steve to adjust to doing this kind of thing, he was likely going about his life waiting for the moment where he wakes up where he belonged. How lonely. You, on the other hand, liked and preferred your lonely.‘I’ll ensure you’re never alone.’ Velvet made it a barb, but there was still sincerity in it.You looked at the sandwich you didn't particularly feel like eating, you only ordered it so you wouldn't be kicked out. You had done this in most places, often not eating at all—you only desired a rest in a secluded place.‘Doesn’t it look good though?’ Velvet tempted.The next story was that of a missing person. A missing person wasn't any threat to you so you figured you should at least give the sandwich a chance. You had to look the part of you were going to stay here for this long.Runny fried egg, crispy bacon, green lettuce, chicken breast, a tone of garlic and a smothering of avocado and aioli. It was pretty good, even if you didn't feel like eating today.While chewing the sammich you looked around, trying to pick out those who might be tailing you. You turned to find someone blatantly staring at you from the counter. You froze mid-chew—was it them? They wore a big jacket and were looking decidedly shady with sunglasses on inside.‘Only douchebags wear sunglasses on inside, those, and actors in cop shows, so; only douchebags.’From the corner of your eye, you saw another, a young man in a hoodie and his friend next to him. They were both looking at you. An older lady seemed to forget the coffee in her hand and openly gawked at you, like your head had become an asparagus. The diner girl looked up at you from making a pot of coffee.Had you spoken too loudly to Velvet? Did you have egg on your face? A teenage girl then had the audacity to start recording you on her phone. Seriously, what had you done? Your eyes flickered to the television screen once more. There was Tony Stark on the screen, as usual, he was explaining something or another and then a photo came up of the person you assumed was missing.
‘That’s not good.’
In the background you heard an obnoxiously loud motorbike in the distance, you were too busy with the photo on the screen to register it. The picture had been taken from an ATM, so the quality wasn't all that great, but there was a distinct pair of black-rimmed glasses.‘Shit.’ You paled immeasurably. You held the bag closer to you. The diner had gone quiet from the usual banter you'd grown accustomed to, and everyone in attendance was staring at you in silence wrapped tension. You wished you had been paying attention.‘What’s this got to do with Tony Stark?’You felt the many eyes burning into you. You'd already paid for the sandwich so you figured they couldn't keep you there.Before standing, you pulled the glasses off and set them on the table. They were a precaution, not something that should lead people straight to you. You tried to look more confident than you felt, walking towards the door.A tall and sturdy man stood in the doorway effectively barring your escape. You tried to determine which way he intended to pass on to avoid any of that dancey-feet shenanigans—but he wasn't moving. You didn't dare look him in the eye, your face had only just been on most of the screens in the immediate area. You didn't need any extra recognition."Excuse me." You whispered before trying to push passed, but you were stopped by a large hand on your upper arm. You must have jumped a foot off the ground at the sudden movement. Your eyes snapped up past the hugely wide shoulders of the man and to his face. Well, fuck me.
‘My sentiments exactly.’
Though he had darker brows, his hair was blond and was arranged in a distinctly grown-out, army-like fashion. There was a heroic squarish jawline, angular features, but what sold it was those kind blue eyes.You were staring up into the face of Steve Rogers. Captain America. He had traded the uniform for a plain getup, a brown, leather jacket standing out against a basic, white tee. He was the beacon of law enforcement.
‘How come I don’t feel safe?’
You weren't prepared for this. Should you run? Should you stay? Stuck between both options you stood there only gawping.
‘You should go for the shins and leg it.’
"Ma'am, do you mind if I have a word?" He held such a dignified way of speaking that made you mourn the forties.You couldn't get distracted by the fanfare. Then again, this man had technically saved your life a couple of times; yours and the rest of the worlds. Didn't he deserve a word?
‘No, don’t get sucked into those pretty blues.’
Brushing off Velvet, you gave a slow emotionless nod. Well, you’d say emotionless; your eyes were probably the widest they'd ever been. The expression of a person receiving a snowball to the face, mid-July.He walked to where you had originally sat, taking a seat opposite your sandwich with its single bite out of it; in the booth, by the window.‘Does he just expect for you to fall in line like a good little soldier? The door is just there, freedom is steps away.’You looked to the open door and back to where he waited expectantly. He was Captain America didn't want to disappoint him, to disappoint him would be like offending everything good in the world. You would be forever cursed. Bald eagles would hunt you down everywhere you went and shit on all the things you intend to eat.The entire diner watched on with bugging eyes. You stepped begrudgingly back to your seat. Your glasses stared at you, as did the soldier. You'd been found, there was no longer any reason not to wear your security glasses, and so you placed them snug to the bridge of your nose once more.You patted your duffel bag again absently, feeling for the outline of two objects."I think everyone else better clear out," the head waitress called in a heavy Brooklyn accent. The café was instantly filled with people escaping the tension as if there was an impending shoot out at noon.You picked up an unused napkin in your hand, twirling it up between your fingers nervously. They were leaving because they assumed you were some wicked super-villain—it wasn't far from the truth."You are Ms. _____?" He tried to confirm, Coulson's description of you didn't really do you much justice. Thick glasses and a possibility of bare feet. He looked under the table for a second and saw two small, grubby feet, confirming what you wouldn't straight away.He sat studying you, keeping stoic, all business. Your face—it was familiar, but he had moments like that with a lot of people having known their parents or grandparents. It was uncanny, and it gnawed at him that he couldn't quite place your features.You were wearing yet another favourite jacket, you always went for something you might see a cool grandma wear. A floral top, high waisted pants, a tan coat that dangled just above your calves. Who would fear an old lady? You would wear a skirt but running in a skirt usually ended in you showing parts of your rather not. You gave nod paying more attention to the napkin you were slowly turning into a low-fibre piece of rope."Shield sent me to come find you-"You jumped slightly at the name.‘Who would have known your favourite cherub works for Satan himself?’You look up at him with a steely calculating gaze. They want to steal your artefacts. You returned your eyes to your napkin twirling."Stark got sulky when you didn't accept the program, he said he at least wanted to meet you-"Stark as in Tony Stark? No—he was something of a rock star in the public eye; he couldn't get sulky.
‘Sounds like a batch of half-baked lies to me.’
"How'd you find me?" You interrupted his story on how the greatest playboy-philanthropist to have ever lived wanted to meet you for coffee and chat about life."Coulson put up with Tony’s complaining for a while. When he gave in, he went to visit you again and found your home ransacked. We thought you were in danger, so we posted hourly news bulletins, and reached out on the 'Twitter'." The word came alien to him. Strange times he now lived in; trusting an Internet bird and the world with information on general things like eating habits.You were now seeing how many knots you could make in your new napkin-rope. That's why that teenager had been filming you. You didn't like how he had said 'we'. "Wasn't it Shield?" Your words were scarcely a breath in volume."Why would they do something like that?" Two small lines appeared on his forehead as he frowned."-Been following me from the ninth grade, so who knows?" The words came out crueller than you anticipated. Your voice grew slightly louder."I assure you; I didn't know about them following you." He put his hands up, showing you his large palms in a non-threatening manner. Shield had so many secrets, even from him. He was in the dark most of the time. What was so special about you that made Stark want to see you so badly? So special that they tracked you for so long?You scowled at him, perhaps he was trustworthy, but you didn't like Shield. "You want to take me back there." No growl, no emotion, just observation. Four; four knots in the napkin string."Yes, you are in some sort of trouble and we want to help," Rogers said honestly. All he saw was a young person—without someone to protect them. No family, no friends. What was his shield for if not protecting people, not only of America but the world?There was that 'we' again, he was identifying himself with them. Captain America was undoubtedly Shield.‘I vote you leave. Quickly.’Your napkin snapped in your hands, "I am in no trouble, I made a mess of my own place, you know, all that psychotic shit-" The poor, innocent creature flinched at your cussing. You had no idea what their psychologists had written down in their many files, but they probably wouldn't put it past you to destroy your own flat. "And I decline the offer to go with you—excuse me."You stood having knotted through enough of the conversation though one-sided as it was. Your bag stayed looped on the opposite shoulder. You would never take it off in the first place. You walked past him quickly, so to end the meeting, and perhaps to ship yourself off to Burma, or Egypt or an uninhabited island of the coast of Australia.Steve Rogers had seen the look on your face when he grabbed your arm on the way in. That was panic. You had expected someone else; someone else that terrified you. You were in deep trouble, so deep that you wouldn't even call on Captain America. You were also convinced it was Shield that had overturned the flat. If it wasn't them or you, it could be something much more dangerous. "I can't let you go." He said suddenly. He intended to grab your arm again, but you were moving too fast, and he got your bag.You froze, becoming a statue. His hand was on your duffel bag.
‘They only came for the Orb and Tablet.’
Your back became rigid as your demeanour slowly changed."Let go of the bag." You ground out slowly not facing him, "Or will hurt you.”He didn't let go; it was the only thing that kept you from leaving and going out there where it wasn't safe for you.With a snap, you whacked his hand away and held your bag close in one swift movement.He cradled his arm in surprise. You kept moving towards the door, but he was quicker. He stepped on the backs of the booth chairs and tables to reach the exit before you. You and the Captain then shared the doorway once more. “Hey, let’s just talk this out at the tower, I haven't been filled in on the details, but I'm sure Tony knows what he is doing bringing you in.”‘So, Tony Stark wants what's in your duffle bag. He is a scientist, isn’t he? I can’t think of anything more dangerous in the hands of a scientist.’ You wouldn't be moved. You’d heard about Steve Rogers, about the serum they injected into him within the lab. It made him heal quickly. You pulled the strap of the bag, so your pack was angled toward your back out of harm's way and made a fighting stance you pulled straight from a movie.Steve grimaced in pity at your attempt, “You won't come quietly?” He guessed."Please let me go, I don't want this.”This had to be bigger than he knew. “This is for your safety Ms.______,” Rogers pulled a pair of regulation handcuffs from his jacket went for your wrist to lock up all appendages. He didn't want to hurt you if he could help it, or even have you hurt yourself by trying to punch him.He underestimated your speed. His failed attempt with the handcuffs, left him unguarded for a moment, you pushed him backwards with more strength than you intended, and he stumbled backwards unblocking the door.Steve became dazed at your strength. This situation was much, much bigger than he knew. “I'll have to have a talk with Tony about withholding information on missions.” He huffed.You saw your chance to run, but now it was your turn to underestimate the superhero.His muscular arms caught you around the middle, dragging you back into the diner. There would be none of that soldier pushing nonsense. “It was supposed to be simple.”You struggled with his broad chest pressed against your back, beating against him half-heartedly because you didn't know how far you could push it before harming the super-soldier.You manoeuvred a leg between his as he was walking you back further into the store and managed to tangle legs with him. You gave a harsh shove backwards, sending him tripping over your foot and onto the ground. He fell with a grunt and as you hadn't considered his arms around your waist; you gave a squeak as he pulled you down with him. You crumbled, Steve Rogers' body cushioning your fall as you tried fruitlessly, to scramble away.The super soldier had training; you had nothing. You lacked conviction and he could sense it. “I am trying to help you!” He dragged your right leg back to him as you were doing your best to crawl away. You slid across the floor where he pinned you underneath him. In other circumstances, he much rather not someone in such a forward fashion, but you were giving him no choice.‘Your actually kind of enjoying this aren’t you?’Being in such proximity, you couldn't help but take in the scent of apple pie and spiced aftershave. The guy even smelt the way Captain America should. You'd bet he just ate an apple pie.
‘Or he eats enough pie to exude apple sauce from his pores.’
You saw no way out of this without seriously trying your strength. You could hurt him—or worse. You looked up into those baby blues; he had to understand.‘He’ll take you to Shield, and they won’t make the same mistake twice. You’ll be locked up. You’ll fail your only mission.’"Please-" your breathing had already become uneven. Your body writhed around without your permission. You didn't want to go there. You didn't want to be pursued. Goddamn it!
‘Why can’t they all just leave you alone?’
A surge of anger came over you until you couldn't control what happened next.Captain America saw the sudden change in your eyes before you flung him off you. Now he was the one on the ground. He saw your arm wind up for a punch. Saw your lips curl into a morbid grin.It was a hell of a punch. He hadn't felt it, but he had heard it. His eyes had closed in anticipation. Unexpectedly he was met with a loud crashing in his right ear. The ground quaked beneath him and there was a warmth, like a fire grazing against his cheek.In the silence that ensued, he peeked at his surroundings. You had slumped still positioned on top of him, and the tiled floor by his right ear supported a new fist-sized crater. A crater that went straight down to the cement and water piping beneath.You looked down at your hands, your left knuckles were destroyed, the bones of the middle ones kissed the air and blood dripped from the fresh wound. You turned them over. What had you intended to do? Your hands shook, had you really tried to kill Captain America? But—you wanted to didn't you? For a moment—the rush—the thrill overcame. For a moment you wanted to kill Steve Rogers.
‘And you should have gone through with it.’
“Shut up.”The kids were right. You realised you were still on top of Steve and scooted back and kept going until your back met with a booth's chair. Monster, monster, monster. You brought your knees to your chest.Your head was so loud you couldn't see the good captain sit up in confusion. “Hey, hey, are you okay?”You held your hands over your eyes. You just wanted it to stop. The fear, the running, your mind was so loud with screams you had caused, and children's taunting, you dug your nails into your scalp. You were having trouble breathing again and dizziness overcame. Out of some sort of kindness your brain did indeed overload with oxygen and you got your peace from this world, if not for a while.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Well-trimmed facial hairAnother cell. You were beginning to tell the within moments of consciousness. There was no masquerade here, you could feel the cool of metal on your wrist.‘You are a prisoner here.’ “Could be worse,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep. The bed was big; bigger than your own was, and its soft sheets had at least two times the thread count of yours.‘Get up! You should be working toward your escape already.’“I could just curl up and die here—it’s so nice.”‘Die in your own time would you!’“You are my own time,” you furrowed your brow wondering how that made any sense at all. “Fine.” You sat up finally and there was a rattling of chains as you did so. You parted the sheet to find there was a long, black-metal chain attached to a cuff on your right wrist. You imagined if you were to measure it, it would span the room and was attached to the bed's headboard. It wouldn't hold you for long. It was a mere chain.Lucky for your captor, despite Velvet’s whispers, you didn't intend to run anymore. You were tired—of all of it. They hadn't touched your clothes this time. Your tan jacket looked as if it had gone through a drier, with seven bricks as an accompaniment. Your pants had gained ripped knees; the tears too big to be fashionable.You eyed your restraints once more.
‘How do they expect you to remove your clothes? Cuffing you to the bed is kinky—but not practical.’
“K-kinky?” you sputtered, mortified. It was nineteen forties Steve Rogers who had brought you in. Surely there couldn’t be anything ‘kinky’ about the situation.
‘Oh, but now you’ve thought about it—can you stop?’
Suddenly the duvet felt too hot around you. You looked around the room to busy your mind with anything that wasn’t the good Captain.The room was vaguely homily, in an unlived in sort of way. Brand new appliances adorned the walls. The colour scheme followed warm browns and creams; it was delicious. There was a comfy looking carpet you longed to feel between your toes—but everything was too clean and needed stacks of books.You could smell a soapy scent from a door behind to the left of you. Another door was situated towards the front of the room, it could only be the exit, it all tech-fancy with a metallic sheen. The entire right wall was made of glass. It was a window, and from your vantage, you were relieved to find New York’s familiar cityscape. Did they trust you so close to a window?‘It could be bulletproof, why don’t you punch it and find out?’ “One objective at a time.” You tugged at the chain, but it didn't budge, it was a stronger alloy than you had first thought. You used it to puppeteer you hand around a bit before letting your hand land on your lap. Then you heard a chuckle from the corner of the room. You froze. The prick snuck up on you."Oh no, keep going, I'd like to see your rendition of Pinocchio featuring your hand puppet thing you've got going on there." He had a husky voice that dripped self-confidence.You cocked your head.
‘So, this is Tony Stark?’
He had an arrogance that swallowed up the room. Out of impulse you hurriedly reached for your thick-rimmed glasses that someone had left on the table beside your bed.He reclined lazily in a spongy, cream upholstered armchair that sat in the corner of the room. ACDC was splayed across his chest, it was a cheap cotton shirt so you could see the faint blue glow of the Arc Reactor in the centre, that was an interesting piece of tech. One you knew quite well. You watched silently figuring he was the type to speak for himself.“Suddenly not so talkative, are we?”You pinned your lips together in a firm line.He cocked a brow at your need for unneeded glassed. "I wouldn't bother with the chains; they're made from a polymer structure I came up with studying Asgardian metals. Somewhere between magnesium, vibranium and buckminsterfullerene and a lot of big words you wouldn't understand." He said carelessly, looking down on you—indeed, keep your friends rich and your enemies rich, then you'll find out which is which. It was something he had come to plate on his most recent adaption of the suit.
‘My, isn’t he astride a very high horse?’
You tested the chains again and upon failure, were then imagining yourself throwing Tony Stark from a horse. You reserved heavy resentment for those who looked down on others, you wouldn't have thought Stark to be this way, he was a rock star—a hero. No, you remembered then; he was in league with Shield."Where's my bag?" You ordered."Oh, so you can speak." There was an upturn of his lip that skewed his dark and well-groomed facial hair slightly. "I thought you'd be more inclined to ask where you are, and you, Ms.______, are my guest in my humble tower," he said dramatically, the lip skew came into play once more.‘What a nasty smirk!’ Stark Tower? You'd much like to poke around this place, but he wasn't taking you seriously all bound up like this and you needed your bag.You'd bet that the chain couldn't quite reach as far as him over there in the corner of the room. The chair was meant for supervisors; gross. "I'll do all that you say—just—my bag." You surrendered because nothing else mattered.
‘You matter, _______.’
This was your first conversation and you were already begging? Interesting. Tony Stark stroked his scruffy chin.The bastard wasn't paying attention. You gave a stern look and a sudden yank at the chain with all your might. There was a sound of warping metal, as the chain broke from its anchor, all-but snapping the bed's pretty head in two. You saw Stark's brows reaching for his hairline. "My bag." You demanded quietly letting the threat make itself.Tony made a sound somewhere between a cough and a groan. He didn't think of the headboard, it wasn’t built of the same black alloy, simple steel. He had no gauge on your strength yet, he had thought he had you made. "I think I'm going to like you." He confessed."I don't reciprocate." Your voice was always quiet and cold.
‘What you said.’
He clutched as his chest dramatically as if you had shot him through the Arch Reactor with an arrow, then recovered to make orders "Jarvis, could you arrange for ______'s things to be returned to them,” he addressed absolutely no one.You wondered if he was addressing the voices in his head when a person replied."Of course, Sir, is your heart okay? I could send up some ice for that wound." A straightforward, English accent quipped.It took a while for you to register that the voice had made a joke. You scrunched your face slightly, not only had Tony successfully created a near-artificial intelligence, but he thought to give it a sense of humour?"Oh, yeah," started Tony ignoring the jest, "_______, this is Just.A.Rather.Intelligent.System," he gestured to nothing in particular. "Jarvis; _______," he introduced."It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Ms. _______," The AI greeted.You made no effort to make friends with Shield’s smart robot.There was an awkward pause, “What? No twenty questions? No, why Mr. Stark, have you sent a super soldier to pick me up?”“I already know what you want.” They wanted to see how your red and jiggly bits worked on the inside. They wanted you locked up as a danger to society. They wanted your precious artefacts. Your hands jittered around in your lap."Your file did say extreme anxiety disorder," he said knowingly, looking to where your hands were fidgeting on the bed.Was he scoffing at your stupid disposition? How cruel."I wondered how someone as strong and as indestructible as you, could have anxiety.” He stood finally, walking over to you. Probably what had him curious in the first place, your file looked a lot like—his own.You pulled back, flinching away.Undeterred, he placed a hand on your shoulder.A hand? Comforting hand? It could only be a ploy."You must have seen some serious shit." Images of the Chitauri flowed back into his mind, and the falling, falling without expectation of ever returning to this world.Tony Stark was consoling you? You’d only just met him—it was too nice. Something was wrong with this situation. He was overcome with a distant look; he had gone somewhere else.‘You don’t need his pity.’You looked down at your hands becoming quite still. He smelt of machine oil and an abrasive cologne your strong nose couldn't help but notice it. The perfume; you thought, matched his arrogance but the underlying grease showed that he could back up such obnoxious tendencies with hard work."Okay let's be honest here, you just sniffed me, didn't you? Didn't think we'd notice—but we did," he backed off.You looked away, ashamed of the blush creeping over your nose."That's so weird," he scoffed but was studying you still, going back to his scientist side. "Coulson said you did that."Coulson noticed too? You thought you were so discreet. You tried to play it off with an unabashed shrug. "Good nose. Know your enemy."Tony stroked his chin some more at this, dismissing your jab. "Hmmm, well Pepper has been bothering me for a puppy." His mind went affectionately to the redhead.
‘Puppy?! You are something to be feared! You are the night and the darkness and…’
“Princess, your things seem to be here." Princess; a perfect puppy name. You can't expect to go sniffing around Stark Tower like that, and not have any repercussions.‘Princess? This is an outrage!’How was he taking you so lightly?! You had only just ripped his headboard in half."Quick before they open the door, what do they smell like?" There was a spark in Tony’s eye. He had just got a new toy and he wanted to test it.“-Not a dog for you to command!” You said indignantly. Most people would be freaked out to know the weird things you do, but not this guy he wanted to stretch it, push limits.He cocked his brow, “nose can't be that good then,” he brushed off.Your pride flared. “Steve Rogers." You informed quietly before the door slid open to reveal exactly that.Tony gave you a look that said, ‘you went out of your way to sniff him too, didn't you? You nasty-ass.’You wouldn't apologise for being cautious. You could see the black duffel bag dangling from Rogers’ hand and leered hungrily at it."Hello again Ms._______," The Captain smiled handsomely.He was smiling at you though you had tried to murder him in a diner. These niceties were the work of Shield, there could be no other explanation."Ahoy, Cap-cicle," Stark chuckled as if he hadn't made that joke a thousand times before. He then held up a hand to stop Steve from passing on the bag, "What's in the bag, Princess?" He asked suspiciously pointing at it as if it were something as nasty as your sniffing habit.‘He doesn’t know.’He—didn’t know? He didn't know!? They only wanted you. You tried to keep your despondent façade; it was a hard feat to perform as hope soared high in your chest. They could have you; you did not matter.‘You matter to me, ______.’Rogers cocked his head at the sentiment; in the diner, you'd made a moved on him for so much as touching it."It's my laptop," You lied quickly. "I'm a writer." You figured that would explain your need for your bag near enough. Never underestimate the love between an author and their laptop.Without second thought Tony snatched the bag from Cap, who was taken very much off guard."No!" You reacted instantly and Stark arched a brow. "D-dirty clothes in there." You confessed in a mumble.At this Captain reacted, "You're going to go through a woman's privates?" He was awfully taken aback this time, it was an utter violation!"Calm down old-man and—well, whatever you are,” Stark looked at the two hostile people in the room. He slowly put his hand into the bag, bringing out your laptop as if defusing a bomb. He tossed the bag on the bed when the computer was cleared of it. He did so without seeing the rest of the contents.With your bag in arm’s reach, you wanted immediately to embrace it but thought better of doing so in front of the shield operatives."I was just going give your laptop a once over, I heard you had it on you when you went a couple ‘rounds with our resident fossil over there.“Wouldn't be hiding something sneaky in the Internet history, would we?" his brows wriggled with all sorts of implications.There was an obvious blush on Steve's face, even he knew what Tony was getting at.‘The 90-year-old would have a heart attack if he saw even a quarter of the things that laptop has.’You scowled at no one in particular, in retaliation of Velvet’s remark.Tony Stark opened the laptop and inspected the screen. He then flipped it over to see the back, there were no signs of cracks or damage, however, there were many signs of tampering. “It looks fine from what I can tell, but you can never know unless you turn it on because you could have cracked a motherboard or something." He again attained a lazy tone.‘He makes himself sound like the smartest man alive.’For all you knew, he could very well be the smartest man alive.‘Doesn’t mean I like his tone,’ huffed Velvet."Do you have a charger? When was the last time you charged this thing?" He frowned after holding down the general power button with nothing happening."Three years," you shrugged in the ecstasy of winning your artefacts back. You were cocky for a moment before realising the weight of the situation: Tony Stark was reviewing your shoddy tampering.He had to make a double-take; you couldn't mean literally. Was this sarcasm? Wouldn't he know? He was Lord Sarcasm. Maybe his was your attempt at fitting in? Your file said something along the lines of 'socially inept'. You were the most precious thing if you couldn't figure out sarcasm. That's when he saw where the charging port should be. "What did you do to this?"
‘You’re about to be in so much trouble.’
You wanted to shrink into yourself. Become a turtle. "-put more RAM, and an extra SSD so to fit all my books." You eased out. (Books and years of movies to feed an unhealthy addiction.)Steve was becoming a wallflower at this point, he had his arms crossed over his chest, making his shoulders look impossibly big. Should he leave?"I can see that. How do you power it?" He was almost was mad that you would desecrate a machine in this manner. You’d put your new RAM boards where the battery originally sat. This begged the question, how the hell did this abomination store electricity?"The switch," your shoulder-width had become very small and your voice was very meek; you were getting in trouble by the teacher. You looked down and fiddled with the sheets some more.Tony snapped the crudely placed switch on the side next to the cd drive. There was a sound of powering up. Then, from the cooling vents and under the keyboard appeared a faint green glow. The screen flickered with life, showing the old windows xp.You had always preferred that system; user friendly.Stark cocked a brow—it was all eyebrows with this guy. "Is that what I think it is?"Tired of being the only person in the room not knowing what's going on, Steve sighed out loud, "What is it?" He missed the days when things did what they did, and they weren't questioned."Why is yours green?" He frowned ignoring Steve. Was it sick? Or a little bit more special? Now he was questioning if it was better than his own. Who was he dealing with here? He would have to look over your school records again."Trial and error—I thought chloride's gasses might power it, when I found the right components— added it because…” you trailed off."Because?" Stark prompted looking intrigued at the mention of chloride."-thought it looked cool," you mumbled looking at the sheet in your hands."You added a poisonous gas to a bunch of hyper-reactive chemicals because you thought it would look cool?" His voice got higher as he spoke."It has suspension to stop—you know—'boom'." You reasoned quietly trying to defend yourself. The little suspension rig, however, wouldn't hold back someone who really intended to smash the laptop, but you left that part out. You had essentially created a bomb, if it cracked, ‘kapow’; three-quarters of New York city would be vaporised.“Boom?” Rogers echoed.How does someone so scared go out of their way to take such a risk? Stark found you a complete enigma—and a mirror. None of these things were on your file. He put your laptop down on the bedside table before walking to the large window.His facade was unreadable, all you could see was his back. You looked to Steve and he shrugged. Were you about to have your ass handed to you? Would they call in a bomb squad? Could this be counted as terrorism? Skip the cutting up, it would be the electric chair for you."Genius!" Stark all but yelled, facing the window.
‘He is praising you for creating a massive bomb?’
"Absolutely fucking genius, you created an Arch Reactor, how?" He turned around eyes alight.Steve resisted the urge to tut and looked at you with renewed interest. He knew of Tony’s unparalleled Arch Reactor at least."You put it in the name,” and it felt like a challenge to your intelligence; so, you took him up on it. Not that you ever intended on meeting him. "Harnessing the power of a constant chemical reaction, a self-contained explosion; plasma. Trial and error," you repeated. Locked up in a one-bedroom apartment for years, you had plenty of time to spend—so you read. Everything; mythology, chemistry, biophysics, gamma science, robotics. Anything you could get your hands on.You remember every fail you ever had. You felt sure someone would call the police from all the strange smells that permeated your apartment block. You had acid-burnt yourself many times. Even choked on poisonous gasses at one point. Your healing factor ensured you only had a couple of scars on your hands and maybe some on your lungs."What, in your bathtub at home? They've been monitoring you for years and you never left that house." His forehead creased together."-The Internet," It was the one-word answer to most things. You had suspected your mail searched so you made odd requests to hide orders in various packages. It looked like you ate pizza a lot more than often.What was he surprised about? He made it in a tin shed in the Middle East as a POW. You had all the time in the world to figure the thing out, and invulnerability so failure was an option. It was a hobby to you, but praise from someone like him?
‘Moments ago, I saw you imagining yourself kicking this guy from a horse. Show some integrity!’
You bit your lip from retort.There was a long pause where Stark was just looking over the laptop."Uh—what's the plan now?" The captain finally got a response."We have to wait for Fury to do anything," Tony had taken to playing Galaga on your laptop still marvelling every now and again. He didn't like the idea of waiting for orders, but they took a vote on what they should do, and it rounded up to calling mum for help. "After the little spat at the diner, you have to be watched twenty-four-seven until then." He pulled a straight face and looked almost apologetically at you as if to say, 'not my idea'.“-going to keep me here and hand me over to shield?” They didn't want your bag, and they hadn't cut you open yet. Did this ‘Fury’ have the final call on what they are going to do to you?“I thought you knew what we wanted from you,” Tony scoffed over the top of the laptop.“Thought I did…”“Well, originally, I just wanted to keep tabs on all the supers in the country, but your file is seriously lacking in any helpful information. Whoever wrote it was much more interested in your preferences than what the hell you actually are.” Stark chuckled to himself as he knew full well who had a hand in writing your profile. “So, I thought it better to meet you in person—then there is the current predicament with your apartment.”“You have been detained here so that we can protect you from the people who ransacked your house.” Steve thought this was common knowledge by now, he had already told you so.“It really wasn't Shield?”‘How could it be anyone else?’“They aren't always the most upfront, but I don't believe so—a day after Coulson tries to recruit you? It's too much of a coincidence.” Stark’s dark eyes dissected you from behind the laptop.“Shield has its enemies, after seeing your room the way it was, we assumed you had been taken to be recruited by someone else,” added Steve.They just wanted your power. Could this all have nothing to do with your treasure? Could they only be trash to everyone else?Stark was overcome with another look of deep thought. “Either way," he stood. "Do you mind if I show this to my science bro? He'll be very impressed." He pointed to the door. He also wanted to figure out if the chloride did anything else other than ‘make it look cool.’You sighed before shrugging with indifference; he would probably do it anyway. He skidded off like a happy child and the door closed automatically behind him. You didn't care so much anyway; you just wanted the bag. Then it was only you, Steve and a bucket of ice-cold silence.‘Well, this is awkward.’It hung in the air like a great, dead goat; the fact that last time you were conscious around him, you almost exploded his face with your fist. If he truly believed what he was saying—he had been only trying to help you. You weren't good at people.You knew what you had to do...‘You don’t have to do that…’"Uh- Steve?" You felt weird not referring him as Captain America but assumed he probably likes his real name rather than the former."Hmm?" He made a sound of acknowledgement, he was staring out the window, thinking of a former soldier he met out on a run once before. The other man had posed the question about getting out of the war zone. It had been playing on him for a while."At the diner…” your words faded with your resolve—you had given into the monster people saw you to be; the lurking bloodlust."Don't worry about it, ma’am, I doubt you would have hurt me all that bad-" he lied in his heroic Captain America voice. Honestly, he didn't know what would have happened if that fist landed.You looked at him unconvinced."Hey, you stopped yourself, that's all that matters. You're not a bad person."You look into those heroic blue eyes.
‘Yet another person to say that, how do they know?’
Maybe they had conversation cue cards written out by the psych team? An author's imagination ran wild. Your head dropped again, "-________," you said finally."Excuse me?" He asked politely."My name—not ma’am." You said bluntly in a usual rude manner though you meant well.You looked up from where you were staring absentmindedly. You had trouble looking people in the eye while speaking to them, you were lucky to be able to form words in the first place. You were met with a friendly smile from him. You might like this one.
‘Yeah, well, I don’t.’
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The nose knowsWithin the first day, you got yourself acquainted with the huge bath in your ensuite. But first, you had to tangle with the yards of black chain to remove your clothes. Fucking Stark! Prior you'd surmised he hadn't thought through the permanence of the two-meter chain. But no, he would have thought about it, laughed and proceeded to chain you up. There was an ounce of his glee in every link. It was infuriating.The bathroom shared the same high-end finishes as the main room, with relaxing stone and concrete embellishments. Toiletries all smelt herbaceous and artisan. As soon as you had sunk into the massive stone tub, you decided you would stay there indefinitely. There was no observer’s chair in there, and the warmth consoled your aching body.When was the last time you had a bath? It had been so long.
‘Don’t look at me; it was your idea to blow up your last tub.’
“You said it was the most excitement you’d had in years,” you stated bluntly behind a bubble beard.‘Might I remind you that you were just proud of the Arch Reactor you created in the wreckage?’“Alas, the bathtub did not die in vain.”
‘Indeed, and though this one is nice enough—when are you escaping?’
You scrubbed at your feet while in thought; they were utter filth, the soles were caked black with god-knows-what from sleeping in alleyways. The life on the run wasn't exactly a glamorous one, but sometimes surviving was dirty work.“I’m not sure.”The chain of Stark's metal was left to dangle around your wrist. You inspected it; it was an onyx black, guess that was to be expected with buckminsterfullerene? It was only half a centimetre thick but was strong and much lighter than one would expect. Suppose you were stuck with it?‘You’re not sure when, or are you not sure about escaping?’Knowing Stark, he would find a better anchor point for the chain. After showing him your immature attempt at his Arch Reactor, you didn't think he was going to let you go that easy. Not when you were perfectly capable of creating your own atomic bomb in an apartment. He'd call it ‘protection’ for the rest of the world, but really, you were here to be his science project.
‘All the more reason to act quickly before you can be tied down!’
“But what if they’re telling the truth? What if there is something much worse out there waiting for me?”
‘Worse than Shield?’
“Could that be possible?”***You were lounging in a set of Stark supplied pyjamas and lost in a book when it hit news o'clock. There was a sparsely filled, corner-coasting bookcase to the left of the wall-mounted tv. The bookcase and television screen were separated by the door you weren't allowed to exit. The shelves were filled with catered book titles, and you appreciated Shield’s pedantic nature on this level.You don't remember ever feeling so luxurious, smelling all fresh from your bath and sitting upon a warm bed. You were even watching TV with a television set that didn't give a nasty ‘thunk’ when turned on.You had stashed your bag away as inconspicuously as you could in the drawer beside your bed after ridding it of the dirty clothes. You tried not to acknowledge the drawer in any way. You knew cameras were watching your every move.The news was about to begin. You had tossed the book aside when another tall blond knocked on your door. Would you ever get to watch the news without interruption?"Come in," you invited bluntly. They had been polite enough to knock, so you assumed it wasn't Stark, and you smelt no apple pie, so you guessed it wasn't Steve Rogers. A third foreign body. You sniffed slightly before the door could open; it was almost like he was masking his scent purposefully.There was a natural masculine musk, just a bit of plain soap? There was an increasing familiarity with his scent.‘You know him.’Your nose twitched, trying to remember.The man entered moments later. He, too, had the whole blond hair and blue eyes thing going for him. Was this a common trend for heroes? His face held a few extra lines; you wouldn't chuck it up to age, more likely a serious demeanour.
‘He looks a hard-ass.’
He had deep smile lines and creases on his forehead. He must spend a lot of time squinting or focusing. He wasn't built like the Captain; then again, you didn't think anyone was built like the good Captain. You had to give the new stranger credit though, the dark vest he wore showed off some nice arms. You hadn't seen this one on television.
‘Maybe he is a foot soldier or a butler?’
He held out a silver tray to you, and it had a series of different sized cloches on it. You accepted it wordlessly, balancing it on your knees, sitting cross-legged. Then he perched quietly in the seat you had dubbed 'the supervisor's chair'.You looked at the still-covered food and back to him. He didn't so much as speak to you.
‘Rude.’
You shrugged; you should respect people's space if you wanted them to respect yours. It was better than Tony’s prying.The first plate was full of the most delicious red wine pasta. You watched as the news guy explained vaguely that Captain America had to take someone down in a public restaurant.‘You made it on the news _______, you’re famous!’The pasta stopped halfway towards your mouth. The video captured you raising a fist to the star-spangled boy in blue. The picture was phone quality, but it was clear enough to remember it perfectly. Your appetite dispersed from there.You replaced the fork and cover once more and looked apologetically to the man in the tactical vest. He had come all that way for you to only eat a couple of mouthfuls of Bolognese."Why do you watch the news then if it upsets you?" He answered your apologetic smile coldly—his voice had a deep and rusty tone.He spoke openly as you would address someone you've known for a long time. "Because I need to know what's going on in the world," you answered shrewdly. You were at ease with your company but held back from poking your tongue out at him.
‘What’s gotten into you?’
You weren’t sure.In truth, you watched the news because you had to ensure the safety of your two artefacts. It was the only mission. If aliens were to sprout from the ground suddenly, you would be the first to run, to protect what you had hidden.The stranger crossed his arms in defiance, "I am not leaving until you've at least eaten your pasta."You scowled; he was being childish. He sat like a stone with firm conviction. He wasn’t about to leave anytime soon; he wasn't even looking at you. You retrieved the pasta once more, making a face to show you discontentment while slurping on it."Where are you from?" He asked ever so suddenly, taking you off guard.
‘This man must be Shield’s lead interrogator.’
Of course. He must have a superpower, the ability to lull a person into a false sense of security. Or maybe it was in the pasta? No, he’d taken you off guard as soon as he entered the room—it was airborne.
‘Writers! I swear.’
“Wouldn't your precious files say?" you munched angrily. They knew you didn't like shoes on your feet. What else couldn’t they derive?"That's the problem. There is nothing on where you came from." He explained as if the fact irritated him like a niggling rash. They had nothing on you until five years ago."I don't know where I came from." You had said it more to the spaghetti than to the other in the room.‘You shouldn't open to the stranger.’Your degraded memory perplexed you; no parents, no family, no friends, only two strange instruments to keep safe. They were your friends, your family, safe and sound, safe and sound.You played with a limp noodle on your fork. You didn't know your own motives behind the artefacts. You hoped it was for a good reason. To have thrown your life away for greed—the idea made you feel hollow in your stomach. No, there was a reason, a good one, there had to be."Do you at least know who is after you?" This man was awful probing, but his words were softer this time.His attempt at kindness slid right past you. Your general knowledge of how people acted lacked after years of solitude. "Haven't the foggiest," you replied bluntly. You were muffled by a mouthful of Bolognese, which was just the cherry on top of your rude demeanour.Were you even taking him seriously? "How can I protect you if you don't tell me anything?" He snapped, “I mean we, how are we going to protect you from something if we don't know who is following you?"‘Well—that was a sudden burst of affection. Why he is determined to protect you himself hmmm? That’s my job.’ Was he a fan of your books? You shrugged. "I don't know what's chasing me or why. If it's not Shield, then I really don't know.” You had lied about their motivation; you were sure what they desired was only feet away from you in a bottom drawer.He didn't accept that. He frowned, trying to decipher your chosen language. ‘What’ and not ‘who’. You were a writer; words mattered to you. He shut off then; He had said too much.Of course, the following story on the television was an uplifting one, something about a new kitten shelter in Newark. A little black one that caught your eye. Your thoughts swam helplessly back to Sebastian. His velvet ears, little black nose, that man musk he seemed to wear. You could almost smell it. You opened your mouth in an exclamation of surprise, releasing some pasta in a most undignified way. You stared straight at the stranger."Sebastian?" You asked before you could even realise how dumb it sounded to suddenly call someone by your old cat's name."If you're going to spit the pasta everywhere, just pass it to me, and I'll take it back to the kitchen." He didn't even acknowledge the name."Have you seen a little black cat with green eyes anywhere?" You asked immediately.The blond froze but recovered quickly. "I assure you I have no idea what you're talking about." He replied shortly, retrieving the tray from you and snatching the fork from your hand.He left you without so much as a name. You crossed your arms over your chest; there was something there. You could feel it. The nose knows.
‘Maybe Sebastian is an animagus?’
“I thought I was the one with the overactive imagination.”
‘You are.’
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Cold Milk
Crimson eyes glint contrasting blue faces. A necrotic cold sunk into your bones. Harsh and vile laughter came spilling from their icy mouths.
A gnarled, bluish finger pointed, still wobbling from fits of unholy mirth. You followed the gestured skyward, and your stomach fell away. It was earth, your earth. A green orb in the lightless black void.
A bleached whiteness infected the beautiful lapis and emerald of your world. The disease spread outward. Ice; it caught like cool hued flames. Flames that raged, taking the world as you knew it, and persevered it in a single, lifeless instant.
Women's screams ended before they could start; the yells of men and the gurgles of children stayed unmade. Time no longer applied. The heroes were all dead. You wanted to stand, to fight, but your cowardly body would not obey. You could only watch and suffer the guffawing.
***You woke to your bedsheets constricting you. A cold sweat had them adhere to you, strangling. You peered up into your suite in Stark Tower, and the lights had all been switched on and glared down on you.‘Hey—hey, you’re okay. None of it was real.’A pair of worried blues looked down at you. The light surrounded his figure, giving him a halo.Your hair stuck to your wan features; the blood was gone from your face, leaving you grey and washed out. You pulled yourself up, and vertigo hit you swiftly. You swiped some of the sweat from your neck with shaking hands."What's wrong?" The captain asked again."Just a dream," you panted. You tried to stand, and the world tilted beneath you. Steve put a hand on your shoulder and attempted to lead you back onto the bed."Cap, let her go," ordered a voice from behind, in the shadows. Sebastian’s scent wafted about the room.‘Maybe you should stay and throw up on his shoes.’You hurried on jumbled legs and shifting ground. You had just enough time to close yourself in the bathroom and hope that they couldn't hear too much of how violently sick you were in the toilet bowl. Your black chain jingled as you went. You crumbled there at the base of the toilet for a while.‘That red wine pasta certainly tasted better on the way in.’“Don’t remind me,” you groaned. Wait… He could taste? How did that work?When the world no longer sat on an angle, you stood to refresh yourself. You didn't want to go back out there—that was Captain America out there. You sat listening…they weren't leaving.‘You can’t stay in this bathroom forever.’You looked around, “It is really nice though.”You glanced at your gaunt image in the mirror and sighed with acceptance. You used some Stark-provided mouthwash to get some of that distinct flavour from your mouth and hopefully from your breath.You stepped from the bathroom with your face downcast."What was that?" the cat-smelling agent, who was all too familiar with you, asked.More people were residing in your room when you returned. There was a quick-eyed woman with bobbed, red hair and a man with a few greying hairs in his dark mop and very dark eyes you could happily get lost in. That was Banner; you had seen him on the television many times. Stark was also in house with an unreadable expression. He could have been thinking about any number of impossible things all at once.You crawled back onto your bed. This was more people than you were used to, which was none. They all looked at you expectantly. You couldn't form words. You instead looked out the window to the night's cityscape.‘You aren’t some exhibition for their perusal!’ Velvet harrumphed."Maybe one of you two should look after this-" Bruce Banner’s voice was eerily calm. He was referring to Cap and your Sebastian wannabe. He knew Stark could be abrasive.There were a few solemn nods before most of them left the room. Both men in question were reluctant to go, so they both awkwardly stayed.The vested man looked to Cap as if to tell him to leave. When Steve didn’t pick up his hint, he made a shooing motion. He would handle this.Steve looked back at him and furrowed his brow, shaking his head adamantly. He, himself, had technically spent the most time with you. And there was still something reminiscent about you. Steve must have known your ancestors; he could feel it. He had a duty to them."Why were people here?" you interrupted the staring contest that had ensued."You were screaming." Cap replied in a grimace, "we thought you were—in pain." He had been alerted by Jarvis, and then he was barely able to keep up with the vested man, and considering he was a super-soldier, it said quite a lot.“Oh,” was all you thought to say. Did everyone in your apartment building have to deal with that every night?‘The neighbourhood was strange anyway; you must have fit right in—I meane, no one ever knocked on your door,’ Velvet assured.Still, you flushed with embarrassment.You were still looking at you. You had to give them an explanation, or else they would storm into your room every time you went to sleep. "I have dreams, and I write stories from them—that one will be my last story." You made a distant face.Components were missing; you still haven't worked out motivations or characters. The biggest question was—how would you freeze the entire earth? "It’s just a story, nothing to worry about," you recovered."Your last story?" cat man was dressed for a fight, not for bed. He didn't think he liked the sound of the ‘last’ story. Last story before what?You hadn't thought about the wording. "I'm a writer; melodrama is a thing."Rogers noticed your complexion. An archer had told him you didn't eat much at dinner. Anecdotes aligned; your refusal was a trend for anyone who had brought you food. “Is there anything you need?" Cap asked softly."—don't have to wait on me,” You scruffed up your hair, trying to relieve yourself of the sickly moist feeling. You have lived alone long enough to take care of yourself. This was nothing to the ‘exploding bath’ incident.“You're not a prisoner here,” Steve assured.'Could have fooled me,' Velvet spoke over him.“We will look after you while you’re here,” Steve went on to promise.You only showed him the chain on your wrist. You were selfish; you looked out for yourself without the need for anyone else. You hoped people would treat you the same. Getting close wasn't something you wanted or needed.“Tony can't always be controlled,” Cap conceded.You hadn't noticed the vested man’s absence until he returned with a glass of milk. Your eyes grew to slits—this guy knew far too much about you. You accepted it without words. Milk was your only remedy for bad dreams and always had been. The milk went down extra cold because of the mouthwash, making it more than refreshing.The nameless man didn't want to laugh, but you looked like you were doing a bad Clint Eastwood impression while sporting a white milk moustache. You had the same untrusting disposition as the cat you had lived with for so long. He made a slight coughing sound and stared out the window to hide any humour your antics may crack out of his stoic mask.Steve put a big palm on your head and messed your hair up even more than you already had, a deep smile on his face because of the milk-stache. He still could not place your face, but you were leaving an impression on him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Little guys
Jealousy is a poison far greater than any snake's. He learnt this the hard way; it had consumed him. He grew bitter and twisted. How he loathed his brother, loved by all, even those who had not learnt his name, knew his feats.
Skadi was a beautiful and fair woman. She stood by his punishment. The father decreed that for what he had done, he may withstand a real snake's venom and feel the pain he had caused for everyone who loved his own brother.
Skadi stood by her lover through the torment of others, shielding him with her own body as the viper's acid burned her perfect skin rather than his. "Why couldn't you hear me when I praised you? How come the praise they gave to Baldur was louder than your own wife's for you?" Her voice was broken from the feel of the snake. What had he done?
***Should you really be writing this? You know the name of the main character yet.
‘Just slip it in later.’
Or should you leave it ambiguous? Make sure all learn from the mistakes of this one fictional nameless person? You cradled your head the chain, jingling around your wrist. You had met everyone at this time.***Tony had come up with a solution to chaining you up. Not that he thought you could run away with all his tech in the tower. It was a challenge. So, there on the other end of the chain was a Stark's-metal box. Stark’s alloy was a lightweight metal, so inside, he’d filled it to the brim with lead pellets—or so he had said. You, on the other hand, thought it was heavier than lead. He expected it was about one tonne, making it half a tonne heavier than has been recorded to be lifted by a normal human. He had said as much when you'd woken to find it attached. He’d been so smug about it you felt like picking the thing up and dropping it on his foot.Velvet had informed that it: ‘Sounds like bullshit.’When you were sure Tony had walked down the corridor and out of earshot, you tried to lift it. After all, it couldn't be that heavy, could it? You’d barely got it an inch off the ground before deciding it was time to have a bit of a lie-down.You met Agent Natasha Romanoff not soon after as she had brought you lunch that day. She came to your room wearing that skin-tight, black-do, and your femininity wasn't threatened in the slightest. Nope. Not even a little.She had been kind and asked if you were okay after the other night—it felt like a facade. You couldn't tell if she cared or if she was thinking of you as a job. People were treating you as something breakable after that night, and it bothered you. And if it bothered you, it bothered Velvet a hell of a lot more.You attempted to pick up the box again when she left. You got it a little higher this time.Bruce Banner made himself known that night at dinner. He’d been nice enough to bring his food in so you wouldn't be eating alone. He had sympathised with the chains; he had told Stark they weren't necessary, but he wouldn't listen. He'd made a self-deprecating joke of how he should probably be the one in chains. That had left you in a sombre mood. Banner was a lovelier person than the news gave credit.When Stark was done playing with it, you were given back your laptop, which was essentially a bomb. You wondered what Stark was thinking; giving you a highly explosive laptop and yet chaining up your right wrist? You lifted the shoebox-sized weight about waist high.Every time you thought about Tony sitting somewhere laughing while you were stuck in your little room, you lifted it once more.***And so, by the time you were up for writing, you could bring it up to your chest. Still, you sat on your bed, rereading over the paragraph, wondering if a name was really needed. There was no knock at the door; you could tell who it was before he made it in. There was no mistaking that cinnamon and apples—you could almost hear a bald eagle screeching in the distance. You had moments like this with most heroes; it seemed they wanted to save you from boredom. While they were all waiting for someone named ‘Fury’ to tell them what to do with you.A big hand came to mess your hair up. Steve had found he liked to do that after the evening of the nightmare. Like meeting a kid at the baseball. "What are you doing?" The blond Steve asked. Your nose was still in your laptop, not really knowing it was considered rude to not have eye contact with the one speaking."I had a good dream—I'm writing." You shifted your glasses higher on your nose with your short description.Steve was becoming accustomed to the fact you kept your words short. Now and again, you would surprise with a complete sentence but not often. "And what is this story about?"You finally looked at him. He was perched on the end of the bed by your feet, he was wearing a tight shirt the same shade as his eyes and a pair of grey sweatpants. He must have just got off training. You considered this. You were curious; "Lift that—I'll tell you." You indicated to the shoebox.‘Excellent, I like menial games,’ and velvet meant it; toying with people was their favourite.It appeared he didn't yet know of Tony's stupid 'lead' box, which made you wonder how the hell Stark got it up to your suite while you slept. From your city-scape view, you knew your room was nowhere near the ground floor.Steve leant down without question like a good soldier. Realising it was a lot heavier than it looked, he bent his knees, and with a sight of rippling muscles—he lifted it over his head.Ah, so he was stronger than what you were. You found comfort in the fact.
‘I think you only find comfort in the shape of his chest.’
You glared and did not deign Velvet’s comment worthy of a reply.Steve slowly lowered the thing back to the ground, not wanting to break the flooring. "There," he puffed. "Will you tell me now?"You thought for a while. "It's a cruel story that depicts what it is like to be small and to feel unworthy, to know jealousy, and a reminder to take compliments when they come to you." You explained vaguely.This struck a chord with the Captain, "You know I was the little guy once," he was short, skinny and asthmatic. Perfect target practise for any man's fist.You cocked your head to the side; you weren't exactly up on your heroes one oh one, just accepted that they were there and saw their feats on the news. Until this week, you never really got the concept of them being real people; how could you? They might as well be gods amongst men.‘One is literally a god though.’Steve was just so impenetrable and strong; it was hard to believe. You knew he had been a lab-rat, but you’d assumed he was the strongest, the king rat, and so was chosen for the serum. You said nothing. Your eyes left your laptop screen and rested on him with enquiry.Steve read your face; you wanted a story. Of course, you did; you lived stories. "I didn't like bullies. But they liked me and my big mouth. They’d ‘take me to the alley'. I couldn't hold my own as well as I thought I could, but I couldn’t hold my tongue neither. I still hated the injustice—my friend James Barnes; Bucky pulled me out of so many of those fights." He added distantly before remembering himself, "I was small before the serum, I was stupid, but I don't regret it—if I wasn't that person then, I wouldn't be who I am now. That's how I was chosen. Because the strong man who has known power all his life may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength and knows compassion." He recited those words like an old friend had said them. He looked distanced, thinking of the people he missed.The heroes were human; you saw it in the way his face pulled. It wasn’t fair for him to be sad; he deserved to be happier than anyone. An alien feeling overcame you; you wanted—you wanted to help. To show you understood.
‘Careful _______, don’t get too close.’
You searched for your words in your hands still placed on your keyboard. "Mid-way through eighth grade—the kids turned cruel." Your nose wrinkled, "They said I was ‘faulty’ because I didn't think like them because I couldn't talk like them. I moved to the back of classes to daydream—to dodge students' attention." And their spitballs."One day, I was pushed over on the stairs by—a boy,” You paled, “the wounds on my knees healed in place, and my shoulder popped back in from being put out. They chanted a new name after that—" monster. But by that time, your words had already trailed off. You bit into your lip.‘He got everything that was coming to him.’ There was nothing remorseful about Velvet.You didn't cry; the wounds were distant. You hadn't even got to the worst part, but your voice was already gone. You looked up to Steve with his big blue eyes. He must have read your file; he would already know your story's ending.A war zone raged in your unfocused gaze. When it was clear your mouth refused to go on, Steve spoke again. "It's okay, Soldier, we all have our battlefields; we little guys gotta stick together." He messed with your hair again.He was consoling you for what you did? You’d never known this kindness before. "You miss those people." You acknowledged solemnly, recovering from your own memories. "—tell me about them?" Who were these people that built this great man? Others might have questioned if it was right to ask, but it almost came out as demand when you said it."Yes, of course," anything for their memories to live on, anything to relive those moments through another's eyes.You like the way he sparkled in the idea."-You would have liked Bucky; I am sure he would have wanted to stand up for you too. There was very little he wouldn’t stand up for. I'd known him my entire life. Well, we met at school. There was this one time…" And Rogers spoke of how they had snuck into a movie together and then had to run for the hills when they were caught.Spoke of how Barnes had been brought up in an orphanage. His rough upbringing didn’t put a damper on his kindness or sense of humour. Regardless of social standing, he always managed to get a girl to go dancing with, could even scrounge up a date for Steve's scrawnier, uncoordinated self. By the end of it, even you missed James Buchanan Barnes.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Do you like pink?‘You’re not alone.’You woke to a smell you could only associate with James Bond. Crisp and clean; the scent of dry cleaners and cologne. You opened your eyes to Phil Coulson sitting in the overseer's chair, his suit pristine and a silver tray on his lap. This was indeed a more appealing way to be woken up. Tony does it with the stealing of blankets. You sat up groggily.
‘Stop letting your guard down. This is the second time you've woken up to this man watching you sleep! Alarm bells, _____.’
"Ah, a smile on your face. That is interesting to see." The older agent returned the smile you didn't know you wore, "Might I've been right in suggesting the Avenger's Initiative?" He passed you what you knew to be count Chocula in a bowl of cold milk under a silver cloche.You didn't want to admit it, but you were beginning to like the tower, even if it was just one room of a treasure trove of tech you wanted to play with. These people, they didn't judge. And well, you looked to your bedside draws discreetly; it might be the safest place for you.‘I disagree.’"Avenger's Initiative—what was is it again?" You had a fair idea, but it was never said out loud."It's these guys; they are the Avengers."Indeed, you thought with enough cereal in your mouth to have your cheeks chipmunk out. You were starving.‘You’ve held off for too long.’ You’d never had an audience watch you eat until now; they sometimes stifled laughter at you, which even you knew was rude because it felt bad. Bruce Banner was the best to have meals with; he brought his food with him, and you both ate, so it wasn't awkward. Though he was just as quiet as you were, and not a whole heap was said."Well, I must leave; we're having a meeting." He gave a little chuckle."About what?" You ask hurriedly, still with cereal in your mouth."You." He chuckled some more as the door closed behind him.You swallowed.
‘They’re deciding which prison to keep you in.’
Your high spirits faltered. “Well, as far as prisons go, don’t you think this is the nicest?”
‘I think free will without chains would be for the best.’
“I have one mission, and the ornaments are safest here,” you scooped more cereal into your mouth.‘You’re more important than some metal tablet.’“Not concerning the universe. I think I should stay.”
‘Doesn’t look like they’re taking requests ______, you should escape before you’re sent to a prison under the sea.’
“I have a better idea.” You looked down at your dessert spoon.‘Damn it, you know I’ll always support vandalism.’***Meanwhile, Nick Fury, the untrusting man that he is, showed up at Stark's tower in person to discuss what on earth to do with you. Rather than hackable transmissions, he always wanted to do things concerning the Avengers in person. The elusive people after you couldn't know you were in the tower, though the media had been no help in concealing your whereabouts.The heroes congregated in Banner’s lab at the tower’s tallest point. The room itself was clad in steel finishes. Its grand windows were shielded with metallic shutters, guarding their conversations against eyes in the sky. The lab was lit with the bluish light of holo-screens. The various monitors held snapshots of your extensive file. It was a gallery of your life as known by Shield, your failures for the party to judge."So, we are all here to discuss what we should do with Miss ________. Though it is clear someone is after her, but she hasn't exactly been forthcoming as to who or why." Fury had a voice that commanded a room and a piercing gaze that radiated from a single, quick, dark eye. The eyepatch worn on his other eye could not contain the facial scarring that marred his dark skin.That scarring alone promised experience and a good story."We have few choices; keep her here in the safety of the tower until the threat is neutralised," That is what Fury said out loud, but Shield agents say one thing and often, they mean another. The plan would be to hold you in Stark’s tower; the Avengers would become your wardens until they decide you're safe—and no threat to the world. That settled, you’d be released to the wild but monitored. Fury left it all unspoken but heavily implied.“—or train her into neutralising her own threat and induct her into the Avenger’s initiative. I personally am for the first. I do not trust that when honed, she wouldn't just try to neutralise us in return." The guy liked the word neutralise, how it rolled off the tongue. There was no telling what would happen if whoever was after you—got you. Imagine something as inhuman as you, brainwashed and batting for the wrong team."On what grounds?" Steve spoke from the back of the room, he had only intended to listen then accept you into the initiative, but it didn't seem to be going that way."On many grounds, Rogers, have you even read her file?" Fury rolled his one good eye; he found Steve's ways outdated—he was far too quick to trust."No sir," he blushed a little, "I prefer to judge a character firsthand rather than through words on paper."“Of course, you do,” Fury rolled his one good eye, figures Captain America would get all ‘moral’ on him. "First of all, we have no idea where she came from or what she is. There was no serum, no gamma radiation, no Asgardian sized crater, she was just found in a forest in Pennsylvania, and look at this."He swiped at a screen for a moment coming to a picture. "This is the first photo we have on record for her." There you were looking just as you did now. Perhaps your hair had changed; you had one of those faces that could be fifteen or thirty.“This photo was taken at the orphanage she grew up in. It is seven years old.”Steve muffled an exclamation of surprise. Even Cap had to admit you had not aged, and he was an expert on this subject.“It says here." Fury swiped some more, then enlarged. "She couldn't speak English, or any known language for that matter. She didn’t have a name; she took it upon herself to choose one.“Her school records are interesting, they had no choice but to put her in primary care without a language, but she learnt too quickly for them to teach. She skipped ahead and surpassed even her supposed age group.“And because Mr Rogers failed to read the brief. We have to revisit how she came to be on Shield's radar." More flicking through electronic papers ensued, which was becoming exhausting. "And my final reason why I wouldn't train her to become an Avenger; in her junior year, she killed another student." There was an old school photo of a boy who looked about sixteen with red hair and a slightly plump exterior. The news arrived with a deadly silence.Steve’s expression shifted from shock to ice. He looked around to read others’ reactions. Had they all known?There was a momentary stun to Stark before he studied your file with renewed curiosity. He hadn’t bothered with unimportant information, your school test scores; now, that was interesting.The vested man and Romanoff didn't even flinch. Banner looked close to mournful, having already known."So, I say we keep her here. We see what we can get out of her, neutralise her threat and send her off on her own merry way. It's clear she doesn’t like people; I doubt she has any future prospects of saving them for a living.""Why do you keep me around then? It was just one person; do we even have a record of my past?" Bruce seemed to be gripping the table with force, calming himself. He had taken this on a more personal level. You had said a lot in your silent dinners—you and he were more alike than Fury gave you credit. If you hadn't the right to be a part of the team, what did he?"It wasn't you but the Hulk, this;" Fury pointed to the boy once more, "was all her."Were you capable of murder? Steve remembered how your eyes had suddenly hardened in the 80’s diner—like you had become someone else. Your chilling smile was etched into his mind, but you didn't go through with it. Whatever happened between you and the boy must have been an accident. "If people judged me for what they saw on paper, I wouldn't be here with you today." He said quietly."But what if she suddenly turns? When she gets angry, well, you saw for yourself Cap," Natasha reasoned. Nat cut off her emotions, taking a stand for the team. She liked you as a person but didn't like you for the team. She had been an assassin long ago, a weapon, but she’d never killed without orders or reason. She might have been an assassin, but you were a murderer. There was a difference in her mind."And if I get angry?" Banner interjected.Natasha filched back; she didn't want to upset Banner; him more than anyone.Tony had stood with a hand on his chin with an unreadable expression for most of the time. You were smart; only three years in school, and you could recreate his arc reactor? There must be something more to it, and if he was going to figure it out, he would have to have you around for a while longer than 'when the threat is neutralised’. And if they were to train you, well, you would be unstoppable; he could retire, leave it to the rest of them."I'm with Grandpa Rogers and the Jolly Green Giant; I like her, she is smart, and perhaps under my guidance, she could be even smarter." He added cockily before switching through a couple of things on the primary monitor. He came to a video. There you were bent down to the black cat in the middle of the road. You saw the car coming, and you turned your back to take the hit for the little cat. From the way you cradled it, it was apparent that you wanted no harm to come to the furry thing, even if it pained you. The video had been from a bakery’s security camera.The man in the vest visibly jumped as the car made contact. The cat walked away, leaving you there, falling forward."If she was willing to save a cat, I would bet that she would want to save almost anyone." Stark’s nose wrinkled."But that was her cat. In her file, it said it was her only companion." Fury explained irritably. "Later that evening, she would break the leg of an agent with a mere kick!"—The room became a complete uproar.“Are we not going to address the fact that she talks to herself?” Nat asked incredulously.“Someone failed to write that in her file,” Fury gave a pointed look to the room.Coulson was quietly rooting for you; he may or may not have gone around Fury to offer you the job in the first place... This could have been all his doing... But there was this archer who had spoken about you. How you never really fit in, how you were powerful and a match for the team. He had vouched for your character.The man that smelt like your cat stood quietly in the corner of the room; he was too close on this one. His opinion was invalid.There was suddenly a clunking sound coming from the hallway. A ‘thunk’, then a rattling of chains, like the forthcoming of Marley's ghost. The dreary sound came closer to the meeting room. The multiple conversations were put on hold to pay attention to the door.The motion stopped outside the room with a loud ‘bang’, and Fury discreetly readied his firearm. Unexpectedly, the end of a spoon poked through the crack in the automatic door. It shifted until it found the unlocking mechanism and dodged the alarm system before the door was shoved open."Don't I get a say?" You asked. You had an exhilarating rush all the way up to your ears. You felt like you were breaking the rules. This was the most reckless thing you've probably ever done. You never knowingly seek out attention like this.Velvet made a ‘whooping’ sound.With a grunt, you hoisted Tony Stark’s weighted box from the floor onto your shoulder and brought yourself into the room. Rustling chains as you went.You could feel the tension in the packed room, could smell the sterilisation of the laboratory and the hint of perspiration. They were all on edge because of your sudden appearance. You saw the picture of the sixteen-year-old boy on the biggest screen and visibly blanched. Their apprehension made sense.‘They know nothing about you, _____,’ Velvet soothed.You knew nothing about you. You teetered off the tall tightrope of that was your current confidence level. You looked to Cap, but he looked away from your gaze. Monster. They wouldn't have you, would they?‘Then leave, find your freedom before they can lock you up.’But you needed this. You suddenly found your voice waning, so many people in one place. You were out of your depth. You had used your spoon to bite off way more than you could chew."I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her-" the AI tried to apologise."It's fine Jarvis, I should have made that weight bigger." Though he didn't really mean it—his eyes were sparkling with intrigue. That was still twice the recorded amount a human has been known to lift, and you had managed to get this far in such a short time? You were a sponge for knowledge and strength. He wanted to play with you more yet.You dropped the black box on the ground with another great cashing sound, tired of its weight. Given that you were a killer, you doubted there was many, but you still had to know; "my options-?" Your voice had lost confidence, petering out to become more of a mumble."You don't have options-" Said a man with one wide eye staring at you. His hand was still inconspicuously sheltered by his thigh behind the steel table in front of him.You assumed this to be Fury, well, because of his fury(?) He smelt overpoweringly of a cologne. He was trying to do the opposite of what the vested man did, he was masking his scent with a cologne. You would bet that scent would change often. Genius, untrusting man. Figures, they'd already decided for you.
‘If you can escape a room in Stark tower, you can escape any cell. It’s going to be okay, ______.”
But Stark had already decided for himself. "Do you like pink?" He interrupted everyone's thought process abruptly. You had been strong enough to hoist that little metal box from your room to here. You navigated with sound and smell, and you were smart enough to break down his doors with a mere dessert spoon.You scrunched your nose up, even you couldn't decipher that. What's this about pink?"Well, I am obviously, you know, the red ranger, Romanoff has black because it works, well green-," he smiled at the gamma scientist, "blue," he gestures to the only man in the room not getting the reference. "Purple, well, we all know purple isn't a thing but too bad, Barton."You looked over to the man who smelt like Sebastian, so that was Barton? You would remember these things."Thor isn't here, so I am willing to discuss maybe giving you yellow if, you know, you didn't like pink all that much." He tried discreetly. Tony had decided you would be the next Power Ranger; he ignored your past. He knew what it was to have a second chance. And he hadn't had a good puzzle in ages.
‘You should take the yellow one; wouldn’t it be fun to anger a god?’
A small smile came across your features. They wanted you. The charade was obviously pissing off Fury, who had been against you, so you played along. "Wouldn't want to impose on Thor's place—"
‘Aw, boo!’
“Pink it is." You smiled distinctly, using your middle finger to adjust your glasses in Fury's general direction. Your voice was small but mocking, two things that very much contradicted themselves."God, it's like a second Tony," groaned the eye-patched man. He started to wonder why he bothered to show up in the first place. They would do whatever they liked anyway.Stark offered you a hand, and you shook it, "Welcome to the Avengers ________.""No, I won't allow it," Fury stated coldly."Oh, come on! She will be an asset to the team." Barton finally broke his silence despite himself.The man in the eyepatch narrowed his one eye at the vested man before giving a sigh. "You're on probation. If you so much as put a toe out of line, you will be kicked from the group," He pointed a finger in your general direction. "If I find a reason to adopt you into the initiative for real, I'll see to it personally." Was this him scoffing?This man had absolutely no faith in you."Again. Welcome to the Avenger's, Probee." Stark reaffirmed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
UnderminedYou still had the awful chain stuck to your wrist, and the weight was bothersome, so you made a point to drop it every now and again, loudly."Why do I still have this on?" You almost let yourself whine. It wouldn't stop you from hurting people; in fact, it could aid you.
‘Perhaps you could piff the weight at Stark’s well-groomed face?’
As they had already let you stay, you didn't see the point in being chained up like a prisoner. You didn't think you were a prisoner… were you?
‘If it smells like a duck.’
The cuff was beginning to chafe. It could actually be the worst. “What?” you honked, forgetting you had a visitor in your suite.
‘Then it’s probably a duck, ____.’
The chain rattled around as you ate that night's Chinese stir fry, which was delicious. Stark's chef gets it right every time, even if you weren't really one for eating a lot of food. You still weren’t following Velvet’s duck remark.
‘If you’re chained up like a prisoner, you’re probably a prisoner!’
"Think of it as training," the iron man shrugged off. He had his favourite black sabbath shirt donned and was reclining lazily in the supervisor’s chair as he liked to do. As if he had to remind you he owned the place.‘Training? Has he ever tried to get a shirt sleeve over that box-thing?’There was no point complaining; Tony was the reason why you were allowed to stay in this safe place. Why was he in your room anyway? You were free to roam, given that you could carry the weight around. Still, he brought you your dinner to save you from the God-awful trip. Kindness or mockery; you were yet to tell."Why do you watch this crap anyway? You should be watching something more educational, like cartoons." He sighed at your bland taste in television.Even you admit, the news so far was on the bland side. "-Just like to know what's happening," you shrugged.He laughed too loud to be sincere. "Princess, we know things before the media knows things; in fact, we know things the news could never tell you—" Stark had raised a finger in telling you, but it shrunk. As if to prove him wrong, the news told him something he didn't already know."We have breaking footage of Stark weapons being fired by terrorists in the Middle East. More from Bob live from Syria.""Thank you, Susan." It cut away from the usual skeletal woman who presented on the news desk to show a balding man. He flushed deep red from the country's heat, even in the darkness of night. "It seems Tony Stark has been carelessly making weapons once again. An hour ago, a demonstration was held by notorious terrorists they showcased Stark branded missiles and tanks." Bob stood by a giant missile shell with that iconic name printed on the side. “Who knows what else they could have scavenged from Stark’s incapable security?”You noticed Tony glaring at the screen.Next played a clip of said weapons used by the opposition, the camera very far away from the action, like fireworks lighting the night's sky."That can't be right, it's not-" how could this happen?It was weird to see him so unsure of himself."I stopped all that. I haven't had weapons made in years." He tried to explain it as if those at the news desk could hear him, his dark eyes coming to glaze over in the direction on the tv. Those weapons were Stark's greatest regret. He stood from his chair and began to pace.You knew pacing; you liked pacing. To you, it did not suit your image of Tony Stark. “—We all know it wasn't you—there must be a storage facility...""Yes—yes, there was, but last year I had someone go through and dispose of them properly….” Tony began to scowl; pieces were fitting into place.You watched dumbly from your bed with your fork hanging from your mouth, were you supposed to console? Or blame? Or help? How can you help?
‘You could promise him the heads of his enemies?’
People were hard. Before you could attempt any of those things, Stark interrupted your thoughts."I need to get to the bottom of this. I'll see you later, Princess." He ran off through the door that was now permanently open from your dessert-spoon tampering.You wouldn't have said it out loud, but you believed Tony just looked panicked. Should you be too? Someone out there had gotten a hold of all Tony's old weapons.In your moments alone, your eyes flickered to your bedside table. When was the last time you looked?
‘You don’t need to do that.’
The door was open, but everyone would be out or eating right now. You didn't get a look after taking the clothes from the bag. You had been too afraid to. People were no longer paying any attention to the cameras in your room—they had no reason to.“What if they got broken after… what happened in the diner.”
‘I don’t think they can be broken, or else I would have talked you into destroying them long ago.’
You could avoid the cameras by shielding with your bed. With all these people milling around, how could you know they were even still there? You looked around again. It seemed no one was in the near vicinity.‘You should leave them alone and get on with your life, ____.’“I’ve got nothing better to do; I’m just sitting in bed.”You listened out for a hint of anything. You shifted towards your drawers, placing the tray towards the end of the bed. With your black duffel bag in your hands, you looked at your two most prized possessions. You picked the ball up and out of the bag, holding it up to the light, looking for any sign of damage; the crystal was as clear as ever.Then the tablet. You couldn't tell what damage was old and what was fresh. The thing always looked a little banged up, but it was still in one piece. You placed them back lovingly. Safe and sound, safe and sound. Yes, this was the best place for you, safer than any flat on the edge of town.
‘Never forget that I was opposed to this.’
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Make a man out of you‘Where the hell is your war face?’"’ Don't want to hurt you," you gave Romanoff big doe eyes. Why did you have to train anyway? Couldn't you contribute to the Avengers the same way Stark does—with smartassery? But to stay here permanently, apparently, you had to fight."Then how will you learn anything?" She asked exasperatedly. The redhead was wearing a pair of skin-tight black leggings and a training bra to match. You had just finished warming up, so there was a sexy sheen on her skin, whereas you just looked bedraggled. You think she might even be wearing makeup—or did she just look like that? How did it stay on? Magic?Romanoff had been opposed to you staying, but for the sake of the team, she was putting her best foot forward and an award-winning smile on.She’d made you do reps with your own restraints. Were you the only one finding that sadistic? You looked down at yourself in an oversized, white shirt and jeans; it was one of the few things that would fit over the damn box. Still, she was not threatening your femininity—at all.‘But she is though.’“Shuttup, you don’t even know what femininity is.”
‘Hey, I care about the way I look.”
“What?” You squinted to yourself.
“It’s because I don’t have a face, right?’
“Excuse me?” Natasha asked incredulously.“Oh, sorry… I…” you trailed off and looked in the other direction. Velvet was forever getting you in trouble.The chains were all up about five meters long, so you had enough mobility to run in a circle and do a little practise fighting. The training facilities were extensive, with giant, blue support mats padding the floor. Voices echoed in this place; it reminded you of a school's gymnasium.The man without a first name was milling around the edges of the room. Both had decided training you was the next best course of action. Especially if they were to follow through with Fury’s ‘neutralising’ plan. Fury, himself, had gone back to Shield, having nothing more to say on the matter and salty that Stark would undermine him as he had."I doubt you could hurt me if you tried," she smiled tauntingly.
‘She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’
You sighed; you didn’t want to do this, but how else would you learn? They wouldn't simply keep you around and protected if you didn't work for them.Where was the Super Soldier? You could punch him, and he would be okay, but you got this distinct feeling that Steve had been avoiding you lately. He didn't even come to your room to celebrate keeping you around, though the rest of the Avengers had.Tony, in his suit, wouldn't be hurt, but you'd not seen him since he stormed from your room. You didn’t want to piss off Banner, leaving you with the two very human Avengers. You sighed again, raising your arms into another failed fighting stance.Barton hurried over and fixed up your pathetic stance, making your feet shoulder's width apart and moving your arms, so they didn't appear to be so limp.
‘Gah, they’re treating you like a child.’
"Okay, punch me," Romanoff prompted.
‘You heard her! Make them rue the day they treated you like a baby!’
Just like that, huh? Just give her a big ol' punch. That's what you told yourself, but you were too scared to put too much pressure behind it; it must have felt like being strangely caressed with a limp noodle. You did the same weird thing twice in succession."What are you doing?" She looked at you strangely, feeling mildly uncomfortable. Steve had told her his perspective of the brawl in the diner, he wouldn’t tell you, but for a moment there—he had felt real fear as you had taken aim. She found herself asking, scared of what?"-Punching, look at me go." You gave her another limp noodled poke and she didn't even move.
‘I don’t think that’s what you’re doing to her right now. It’s like watching an octopus caress a mate.’
And she had been afraid that you would be harmful to the team? You couldn't even hurt a fly, really; at this point, you would only hold them back.Barton silently agreed this was a little sad to watch."Something different," she caught your next fist without even trying. "You're going to have to fend me off—if you can." Perhaps the real threat of danger might bring out some of your strength. In a real battle, you wouldn't be able to think of such things as how much force to use. In the heat of the moment, things move too quickly to think at all; it becomes reactionary.You gave a nod, then thought on it. "Wait-" she was getting in stance to start whaling on you."What now?" She sighed; her muscles were already cooling off from the warm-up."Safety word is um… ‘pickles’." For her sake, not yours. It was the first thing to come to mind because even you admit you were feeling kind of peckish. People had forgotten to watch you eat recently.
‘Don’t give her an easy out! Also, I always watch you eat.’
“You creepy mother fucker,” you said under your breath.‘Not like that—although, it could be like that if you wanted it…’This brought a smile to her ordinarily stoic face; you had caught her off guard. "Okay then, pickles." She figured you were going to need it. "Get ready; here I come."You had barely enough time to raise your arms into a stance before you felt a swift kick connect with your ribs.
‘She isn’t holding back.’
There was a snapping sound as you were robbed of a rib. You resisted the urge to hold your stomach as it healed, the pain was still excruciating, but you saw another hard shin coming toward the other side, intent on doing the same thing again. You halted with your forearm. That was going to bruise her.She was undeterred. Natasha had stoked a fire in her eyes. It looked like she wanted to kill you. However, those ribs should not have broken; you were too strong for that, an average human was too strong for that. It was strange. Suppose they still didn't know a whole heap about your abilities. Still—you weren't giving her what she wanted. Fight back, damn it.
‘Get her back, _____!’
“I won’t hurt her.” You knocked away a couple of punches from your chest and stomach region; your ribs were still healing, it made you protective. You were focussing too hard on protecting your torso. You didn't even expect it when her fist came for your face.You felt the impact ricochet around in your head. You saw twinkling lights, your nose gave in to the pressure, the bone in the bridged snapping spearing cartilage. Your balance teetered backwards, and you fell. You held your nose from the pain and rushing blood; it dribbled down into your mouth, leaving a coppery taste."Natasha!" Barton yelled, "wasn't that a bit much-"You held up an unused hand to silence the agent.‘You don’t need his protection.’Through the pain, you straightened your nose out with a filthy cracking. You wiped your bloodied hand on the oversized shirt's front, "I’m fine, no pickles." You scowled, your voice coming out like you had the flu. You hitched up your glasses before standing up slowly and bringing your fists back up in front of you.Romanoff hadn't meant to hit you in the nose so hard; you had been blocking so well up until then you assumed you would do it again. It was almost as if your bones were brittle or made of wood; they shouldn't be cracking like that. She didn't think she had been using such a force.You couldn't be this meek out there. You couldn't be this meek in existence; people would step all over you. She looked at you and saw the innocence she never got to keep. And honestly—it annoyed her. You had to step up. She appreciated that you wouldn't back down easily. There was some drive there—she could mould that. She wouldn’t insult your small ego, so she got ready to attack once more.***"When you fall, try to make it into a roll; you'll protect vital organs and your spinal cord. The momentum won't plough you into the ground, rather propel you in the direction you roll." Barton had just flung you as you attempted a pitiful punch. Natasha then paced around the sides after getting tired of beating you up, throwing bits of information at you every now and again. Her blood was at a simmer by now. You were letting them beat you into a pulp, completely refusing to fight back. She kept stoic as ever.You picked yourself up again, favouring one leg and one eye. You could scarcely use your right hand from the chains. Velvet fed on your pain. They called for retribution, screamed for you to fight back.Barton was finding this useless. No matter how much they beat you up, you refused to hurt them back. He felt guilty; it felt like beating up a lamb. Another round of Loki and the Chitauri, and you would look something like a tree’s remains after dancing with a woodchipper.He regretted saying anything to Coulson; he regretted not putting his hand up to say you shouldn't be a part of the Avengers. You simply weren't made for this."-Don't look at me like that." He was looking down on you. You had felt that gaze far too many times before; it was reminiscent of something far forgotten. You fended off another hit to your torso.
‘They shouldn't take you lightly.’
You defended your face.
‘You aren’t some little kid.’
Stepped back from a lunge.‘You’re not defective.’You felt a sneer come over you—you wanted to hurt him.
‘Wipe the pity from his face.’
You took the distance back, parrying forward. You fisted fast towards Barton’s stomach. "I don't need your pity."He moved quickly to counter, but your fierce display connected.As soon as it hit, you regretted it.‘Ooooo, that’s going to hurt!’ Velvet cheered.You had slowed down at the last second. Still, you had successfully winded Agent Barton with one punch.Romanoff sucked in her breath. You got him good. She almost broke façade for a moment to laugh. Barton had gone down like a sack of shit to the weakest half Avenger to ever exist. That said something about you; you were proud, passionate, and had a temper. It made you refreshingly easy to read, and if she provoked you—maybe your training would get somewhere? All along, you only needed a reason to fight for."That was-" the blond wheezed, doubled over. "That was good." He took it all back. If you put all that force into a punch and aimed at Steve—he wouldn’t know who would win.Velvet was still celebrating."I'm so sorry!" Your eyes bulged.‘There is nothing to be sorry for!’Barton waved it off between struggled breathing. You were sorry? He thought he shattered your jaw before. He had seen better off people in a torture chair."I think we should end it for today," Natasha was more looking at you than Barton; it wasn't a good idea for you to wear white while training. That was a lot of blood. She passed a bottle of water to both of you. She wasn't all that worried, she had heard you have regenerative powers like Cap, and she had beaten him up many times, but then again, he never bled or cracked in the training room before.With the prospect of the end, you folded to the floor before laying on your back, and Barton did the same, faintly wheezing."This power—is it wasted on me?" You wondered out loud, forgetting the other two in the room. Your vision in your left eye was coming back. You could only imagine what it looked like to them. You might have broken your tibia in your right leg from a tripping manoeuvre Natasha had 'shown' you. Some god of irony laughed during your creation, all this power? And all you wanted was to run away.‘Imagine what your power could be if you listened to me more.’"No, if it had been given to just about anyone else, it could have been a threat to us all," Barton said, having recovered from his shortness of breath. Perhaps given to someone like him? It might have been a little more practical? But you had heroism in you, even if clearly; to him, Natasha wasn't seeing it.You squinted. Was that an offhanded compliment? "Who are you, Barton?"
‘I don’t know the game he keeps playing, but he annoys the shit out of me.’
You didn't see Romanoff sneak from the room; she knew this story. She began to be tired of him telling her things about you. He was too attached, and emotions weren't her scene.He sighed after a while; you were technically an Avenger or a probational one, at least. You should probably know; you would be with them almost permanently, it seemed. "I have been doing this for a while," he said almost unrelatedly."I was scouted by the agency after a mix up at a heist," he grimaced. The police had labelled him a criminal when he took the real criminal's money. They didn't ask questions when they saw him with the goods. Naturally, Shield knew, they always did. "Five years ago, I was given my first mission," he was sloppy then, got too attached. "To watched over a girl who had been found to have 'superpowers', someone without a past. They deemed it an easy mission and so gave it to me."You perked up at this. Barton couldn't mean you. It was him following you all that time?"I followed her from an orphanage. I followed her from alleyways to hotels. Moving across entire states on foot. She was my mission, and I began to feel—protective of her. You don't just watch over someone for that long without feeling that kind of thing.“I overstepped my mission. I’d leave food for the girl, fended men away from her when she slept on the street,” They had wanted to take him from the mission after sending an arrow straight through a somewhat perverted type of man, but he stayed on; there was no one better than himself for the job.You were becoming conflicted. The eyes that had haunted you for so long. They were his.‘This man instilled paranoia in you. He was the eyes in the dark. The reason you couldn’t sleep at night.’ And anger flared in Velvet, like none you’d ever seen. But he wasn't just documenting you for Shield. He had been looking out for you.There was a pause before he started again; you probably wouldn't answer, you didn't often speak. "You always looked so alone." He was staring up at the ceiling. He'd dropped the pretence of the 'the girl' because by now, he knew you’d understand. "So, when I caught wind that you were looking for a more permanent residence, I bought a kitten-"That smell, he was Sebastian's other owner."I put him in the apartment just before you arrived...There were so many times I almost ran over to that flat." He had bought up residence across the way in another apartment building above the bakery. "You screamed in the night, and I thought you were dying, but each time I just saw you get up and go to the fridge after going to the bathroom."He was quiet, still thinking, "That cat was always perched on your shoulder-" he spoke over his words as if he had only then remembered. "There was an explosion once, and I was definitely going to go over there, but I heard this laughter, you were lying there in your living room laughing, your hair was singed, then you went at it with a pair of scissors. You're lucky your hair grows so fast because you are no hairdresser." He chuckled next to you. “—it was also my job to go through your mail; I read your first manuscripts."Oh no, he did not! Then again—you were right to hide your dirty washing in pizza boxes and grocery bags. Something tells you the agent would refuse you playing with such substances as certain chlorides."I sent it to Coulson, he likes that kind of thing—and he sent it to a friend of his who became your publisher-"You were still silent; he couldn't bring himself to look at you.‘He still watched you sleep, _____.’"I-I never thought I would meet you. After the first month of living in that flat, I was called to another mission. I checked up on you now and again. You were my first after all, and I wanted to make sure you were okay—listen, I know it's kind of strange, that's why I didn't want to tell you."You were still silent, and there was a long pause before you said anything at all, "Barton, what's your first name?""It's uh- Clint." He didn't know how it mattered."Clint," you could feel tears rising. You didn't cry. You never cried. "Thank you." You bit your lip. He was there all that time? Barton had cared for you for so long. More than anyone had.‘Don’t get attached, ______.’You raised a hand to your eyes. You weren't getting attached; you ground your teeth in defiance. You wouldn’t cry.Clint could hear the grinding of teeth; what were you doing over there? He could never really understand much of what you do. It's how he found you so intriguing to watch. Sometimes, he would imagine the other half of your conversations with yourself. It was almost soothing—those nights where you were just a street away, he knew you were safe. It was a feeling he never knew again until his first little ones came along."Is Sebastian okay?" You asked after a while after you won the battle of the tears.
‘Who cares? It didn’t when it left you bleeding in the street.’
"The night you were hit by the car, I was on another mission; I found out what happened and went looking for Snowy a couple of days later. He is now at home with my family and well taken care of." He smiled; he wanted to tell you about his family because he didn't find it fair that he knew everything about you. Clint had thought you would like to kill him for being that person that gave you so much anxiety. Perhaps it wasn't Shield you were so afraid of. Never in all his time watching over you had he seen something other than himself looking at you. He didn't know what was after you, but by god it was his job to see that they never got you."Snowy?" You questioned, brows furrowed."Yeah, I thought it was ironic; why did you think Sebastian was a good idea?" Barton chuckled, almost embarrassed by his naming skills. Good thing his wife named the children."-The perfect little black butler, I thought Sebastian was fitting." You explained with a smile. Of course, he didn't get it. "Will I ever get to see him again?" You asked."Sure, but you have to promise not to steal him away; my son is very taken with him."You smirked; you were sure you'd be able to smuggle him away somehow, that's if he still wanted you."Since I have told you about my family, could you not tell everyone else? It's only Nat that knows," he asked anxiously, his precious family, even Shield, didn't know about.He was confiding in you. It felt like you just met, but it seems you've kind of known each other for years. Which definitely didn't make you attached but was comforting. "I'll take your secret to the grave, Clint Barton." You promised. It was the least you could do for all he has done for you.You lay there in silence before Clint spoke again. “Can I ask about the voices you hear—I’ve always wondered…”
‘Don’t.’
“—I’m not supposed to respond to it. If I give in, it validates… makes it real, but sometimes I can’t help it.” You stared at the ceiling, making shapes out of the support beams.“Oh, I’m sorry if you can’t…”“He is only a manifestation of my self-preservation and innermost desires.” You near-quoted from the mouth of a school counsellor. Turns out a quiz comes with hearing voices to see what kind of demon you’re housing.
‘He?’
“There’s only one? How can you tell which comment is self-preservation and which is desire?”“I can’t.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Thriller‘You’re a mess.’“Thanks.” Your white shirt had crimson stains; all had leaked from your nose, mouth and eye. The blood had dried crusty on your face, and it pinched your skin at any expression. Your healing had you up and moving soon after meeting with Barton. You had somehow forged a stronger bond with him in a matter of one conversation than you had with anyone, ever.‘You might not recall the pain of friendship. But I do. Everyone has the capability to hurt you, _____.’Didn't mean you trusted him. You didn't think you'd ever meet someone to have looked after you so well. Even if he just, you know, beat the shit out of you with his partner.You decided in earnest, the following training lesson you would try, really try. They gave their all in all they did. You should do the same. It would be an insult not to.Barton had wanted to walk you to your room, but you refused him—made something up along the lines of 'it doesn't hurt’, giving him some the delusion that you felt no pain. But hell—you really, really did.You had wanted to feel independent all over again after just learning you had never really been alone all along. However, you swore Avenger’s tower was a maze, as it was made up mostly of corridors. Would you die of starvation in this maze? Were their multi-coloured ghosts waiting around every corner? Did they waka-waka?‘You’re delirious. Should you have taken up Barton on the walk home?’“Didn’t you just give me a spiel about not trusting people and going it alone?” You felt yourself getting even more lost, and the 'lead' box was only getting heavier.
‘I am self-preservation AND desire, the fuck do you want from me?’
“Both sides of a whole stupid.”
‘and that stupid is you.’
“Heyy.” Did it really work that way?In one of the many hallways, you came across the back of a blond head and a pair of impossibly broad shoulders. "Hey Steve, hold up!" You only wanted a direction, a simple point, maybe. You spoke to the back of his head but got no reaction; he didn't even bother turning around. He just kept walking.
‘Rude. If your legs were functioning properly, I’d suggest landing a kick on him.’
Steve really was avoiding you. You stumbled after him, broken leg, Stark box and all. You must have resembled one of the zombies from thriller, not that Steve Rogers would know what that was."Yah! wait up!" You called; you didn't think you could move much faster. Still nothing. Right, it was just pain, and pain was a part of the nervous system. It's all in your brain. You had this.‘And you’re in your brain, so it’s almost like pain is important and should be listened to.’“Your sarcasm has been noted.”And you trucked on faster than before, gaining on the super-soldier. You found yourself by his side and in much more pain in no time. "Yah!" You shouted beside him—that may have been the loudest you've ever made your voice, and he finally looked down.Rogers gave a sudden gasp. He was looking down on an actual zombie; you were pale in comparison to your usual self. Darkness encircled your eyes, one vaguely darker than the other though both were bloodshot from holding back your feelings. Blood spattered your shirt, and you had the black chain coiled around you to stop you from tripping over it. Your glasses sat askew on your nose, but you hadn't the hands to readjust them. "______, are you okay?" He seemed to forget ignoring you for a second with wide eyes."This is nothing," you never felt better, never felt so not alone. You readjusted your grip on the lead. You already had a blackening spot on your barefoot where you'd dropped it once before. This was followed by an ass tonne of foul-mouthery that would have the 90-year-old man before you blush like a tomato. You didn't feel like doing that a second time. "Just training, now I'm lost—help?" Again, from you, it sounded like a demand."Of course," the blond didn't look convinced that what you were right now; was okay. "Do you want me to carry that for you?" He referred to Tony's hell-box.
‘I think you should give it to him, he’s useful for at least this.’
One day you wanted to be strong enough to be able to throw a tonne at stupid Iron Man's stupid, dumb, fat head. So, there were no cutting corners. "No, Stark said this is training." You sighed.‘I cannot criticise your way of thinking.’"You're all bruised up, I can't allow you to carry that." He said in his ‘Captain America to helpless citizen’ voice.
‘I take it back. You don’t need his permission for shit.’
You puffed up your chest. You didn't need his help. You didn't need anyone's help. "I am alright, lead the way," you grinned triumphantly; wait, were you missing a tooth? You felt around with your tongue. Barton had clocked you one in the mouth before and you hadn't been able to defend it. That would grow back, wouldn't it?
‘Oh, dear, how am I supposed to find you a boy like this?’
You went wide-eyed. Velvet had never spoken about relationships before. You had no interest.‘Suppose it doesn’t have to be a boy, don’t think Natasha would have you toothless either, though.’And like that, you hit a shade of fuchsia unseen before. Was that self-preservation or unconscious desire?You were so buttoned-up Steve knew he wasn't going to win with you. You were far too stubborn. He started in the opposite direction to the way he was initially going.
‘Oh, so it was this way? I knew that.’
Rogers couldn't help but hear a dragging sound coming from behind, what was that? Were you pulling the box along the ground? He reluctantly turned to look once more. It was your leg; you were dragging your leg like that. Why? Your foot was on an odd angle. It's broken, and you won't let him carry the weight?He stopped suddenly, lifted the lead box from you, and turned around. "You're too slow." Was Steve's excuse. A tonne was lighter to him than it was you, but it was still quite a hefty weight.‘Well, that was also rude.’You were too tired to even complain at that point. This was the most physical work you had ever done. All you wanted was to get in that bath and then sleep for a while. You hobbled along with Cap, it turns out you weren't all that far away from your abode. Someone had fixed your automatic door from your own ministrations, probably why you couldn't recognise it. Bets were, you had walked straight past it.Steve placed the weight in the middle of the room and turned to leave.You didn't want him to leave without knowing why he no longer liked you. "Cap, why are you ignoring me?" You eased yourself onto the bed, staring directly at him.He paused in the doorway, slowly turning, "Tell me it was an accident," his eyes were pleading.You didn't understand, and your face showed it."That boy's death, it had to have been an accident." He just couldn't understand it. You had said you were one of the little guys. How could you kill an innocent? It just didn't add up in his mind; he thought you were at an understanding. Had he really judged you that wrongly?
‘Don’t waste your time explaining. He has made up his mind about you, and he is right. He should watch is back.’
He hadn't read your files before that meeting. No wonder he had been so nice to you, messing your hair up and stuff, you thought he was a—‘No, he isn’t a friend. You didn't have those; you made sure.’But had you thought he didn't care about your past. You thought—you were accepted here.
‘See, this is what happens when you let your guard down.’
You looked down at your crooked foot, bending down to put it back into place with an icky sound like a twig snapping.Rogers flinched immeasurably.‘That's right ______; show him that you’re a monster, make him run for the hills.’ You finally looked at him again. "It wasn't an accident; I knew what I wanted to do. I killed him." You clenched your jaw. Your hands had remembered what it was to jitter. It had been a while. Nothing had changed. You let your back fall against the mattress. Your legs stayed dangling.Steve couldn't even think to say anything; you really were a murderer. You were the type of person he hated so much that he became who he was to this day. Romanoff was brainwashed, the Hulk was uncontrollable, but you killed someone, killed an innocent—would you do it again if they trained you?"Just go," you said in a small voice. You could feel all his judgements; his eyes had turned cold on you. You were an idiot to get too close. They all turned in the end."You couldn't have—why?"You looked up at him from the bed, so heroic.‘You’re not like him.’You were tired, you were beaten up, you didn't want this conversation. You never wanted this conversation. You wanted people to hold their assumptions of what happened that day to themselves. They could all leave you to this safe tower. "Just go," you snarled in a sudden animalistic gesture.The Captain jumped.You made the great Captain America jump in fear.‘They’re all afraid of you.’Your hands shook more violently. Could they know? On the same deep level, you feared yourself, feared what you could do if you just let loose. You could probably kill them all. You heard him leave. You wouldn't cry, never again, of that you convinced yourself.
‘It’s okay, ______, I am here.’