My head screams "no" as I walk into the bar. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol. But I need this, I need to get away. Everything's gone, nothing really matters anymore. And yet, still, I feel the need to make myself drink until I pass out.
I am wearing a flowing black dress with a black leather jacket to cover up my... mutation. I am wearing black boots that cut off just below my knees. I carry a black clutch, in it everything any person needs to ruin my life, as if it were possible to make it any worse. The necklace that I wear every day, a triangular vile with a skull topper, all tinted pink gold, in it containing the only potion ever made that keeps me alive, hits my chest slightly with every step I take. My hair is a bit of a mess, just down, but more like a bed head then anything.
I make my way to the only unoccupied table. Some slutty waitress comes up to me after a few minutes and asks me what I want to drink. Maker's 46 bourbon whiskey, the whole bottle. Yet again, my brain screams at me, telling me to stop this before it gets bad. I push the thoughts into the back of my brain, and pour the first glass. I down it without hesitation but the first thing I want to do is rush into the bathroom and spit it all out. I've never been one for drinking whiskey straight, or even whiskey at all for that matter.
I feel someone tap me on the shoulder and I drowsily turn around. There's a man standing behind me, giving me a sly grin. He looks shady, his face not shaved so he has a scruffy beard that looks partially like a homeless persons. His whole complexion screams rapist, to be blunt. That's the kind of people you get around here, though.
"Hey baby, hows 'bout you an' me find a room," the man says, grabbing my shoulder. I try not to wince. His voice is raspy and deep.
"I'd rather find a grave," I growl. His rip on my shoulder tightens, making thoughts shoot through my brain. I no longer feel drunk, depressed, or drowsy. I now feel awake and ready to kick someone's ass.
"Wrong answer," the man growls. He pulls me up by the shoulder and turns me around. I can smell the beer resonating off him. His breath smells like rotten cabbages and cigarettes. I can feel him coming closer. He tries to grab at my dress as he closes in for a kiss.
My fist collides with his jaw and sends him whirling backwards in shock. I move my hands behind me to grab the bottle of whiskey. I put the stopper in it and I turn to walk out. I can hear an angry snort from behind and I spin around just in time to see the man charging towards me. I duck from his frustrated swing of arms and I slam the bottle into the small of his back. The whiskey bottle is made out of thick glass, so it doesn't break, but it has the man ending up face flat on the floor. He tries to stand up so I grab a stool and smash it over his head. He is officially out cold as I walk out. A huge fight erupts behind me, but I don't care, I just need some peace and quite.
The freezing air bites at my exposed skin. I cross my arms over my chest after zipping up my jacket, keeping the alcohol close to me. My head is lowered against the wind. Damn me for not caring enough to bring a warmer jacket. The wind against my ears makes me feel as though a whistle is just constantly being blown at my face.
"That was some nice fighting back there," a male voice says from behind me. I sigh and growl, turning around. I come face to face with a man in a suit. Another man stands behind him in a leather jacket, partially like mine, except his is a tan. The one standing closest to me has gray-ish black thinning hair. He is about as tall as me but he has a sharp, businesslike face. The man with the leather jacket on has a kinder face with blond hair. I can definitely tell that he is taller then me and by the looks of his build, he's very muscular.
"Not doing any demonstrations, boys," I say, smiling slightly, "sorry. Come back later."
"Roxanne Millers, I'm agent Coulson," the dark-haired man says, pulling out a badge and flashing it quickly, "I work for Shield. I'm sure you know what that is."
I growl. I'm not going to be recruited for some experimentation. "Not interested." I turn back around.
"Roxanne, the safety of the world is at stake here."
"The world can be saved without me. Go find Thor."
"Thor's not here, but his brother is."
"Loki? Loki. He's here, on Earth."
"Yes, Roxanne. Loki is on Earth." Coulson states this as though its obvious.
"Why the hell aren't you looking for him then?! Look at me! I'm a mess! How the fuck am I going to save the world like this?!"
"We came here to recruit you, not because we have to have you, but because we have faith in you." The agent puts a calming hand on my shoulder. "Roxanne. I know what you've been through. I can't imagine the pain you have right now, but we need you. Earth needs you. You have an amazing ability. You're one of the very few people on this planet who know Loki on a personal level. Know his mind, we find where he is."
" I don't have an ability. It's a curse that makes me hide myself wherever I go. Plus, Anna knows more about Loki then anyone, even me. We weren't the ones who talked, I was friends with Thor," I sigh. Anna, my best friend and long time companion. She knows everything there is to know about Loki.
"We've got her. She was willing to come help us." My head shoots up, glaring at the Shield agent.
" Then why the hell do you need me, then," I ask, getting angry.
"Because you are one of the most amazing human beings on the entire planet. Even gods are impressed by you. The world can't be saved without you to help," Coulson states.
"Now you're just trying to flatter me. Who's the big guy," I ask, getting a little bit less angry. I nod to the tall, blond man.
"Sorry," the blond man startles before walking towards me and sticking his hand out to shake mine. I take his hand and glare. "Steve Rogers." I chuckle at the name. "What's so funny?"
"I'm sorry, that's just an unfortunate name," I giggle slightly.
"Why," Steve asks.
"Well, it's just that Steve Rogers is the same name as Captain Ameri- wait..." I look from Coulson and back to Steve in dawning realization. "No. No, no, no, no, no... Coulson? This isn't actually... it can't be... can it?"
"I am Captain America," Steve states simply.
"Oh," I sigh, feeling a bit faint. I remember studying about him in history class. "I'm sorry, it's just that, you shouldn't be this young. In fact, you shouldn't even be here."
Steve opens his mouth to speak but Coulson butts in. "It's a long story. Are you in or not, Roxanne?"
I stare at Steve for a few seconds and then I turn to Coulson, handing him my bottle of whiskey.
"I'm in."
Alright, I hope you guys like this. Now, I also have the outfit of what Roxanne is wearing on my profile at the very bottom. I am only doing this for a few of the chapters, so, I would love some reviews.