"Hit me with your best shot
Why don't you hit me with your best shot
Hit me with your best shot
Fire away
You come on with it, come on
You don't fight fair
That's okay, see if I care
Knock me down, it's all in vain
I get right back on my feet again-"
"Ey!" Margaret yelped as her roommate popped out her ear bud, messing up her set of crunches, and her rhythm. Her roommate huffed his pouty lip. Nokadota was a tall, slender but toned young wakandan with cheekbones that could replace a deli slicer. Looking at him you wouldn't have guessed his major was physics. He gently laid down on to the yoga mat next to her. They had been friends since freshman year at Columbia. Nok grinned widely and smugly in a "you love me no matter what" kind of way.
"I know it's a sin to interrupt Pat Benatar," he began, "but I think you can skip the full set on your birthday. We have plans after all and they don't involve you and that gross sweaty ponytail."
Margaret sighed pushing herself up from the mat and snatching her water bottle from the breakfast bar, "I don't-"
Nok snapped to his feet, "Oh no Mags," his head shook reverently, "You swore on your father's medal that we would go out!"
Margaret groaned shaking out the oily tumble of honey golden hair. Nok was always the party animal, and she loathed the thought of spending a midterm study night out on the town. She had promised though, "Fine."
Her friend leapt a foot off the ground but then composed himself, "You have precisely an hour and a half until we have to be where we need to be." He glanced at her up and down, "So chop, chop!"
She liked her showers scolding. Nok told her that's why her hair was so frizzy, but it felt too relaxing. A crescendo of musical chimes sent her flying from the shower. Desperate to push the answer button on her phone. Before she could say hello…
"S dnyom rozhdeniya tebya, ss dynoym rozhdeniya tebya," a soft voice sang. He wasn't much of a singer, but it made her smile, "s dynoym rozhdeniya tebya milaya Margaret, s dnyom rozhdeniya tebya…" there was a quiet moment, "Happy birthday my darling. I'm sorry I can't be there to celebrate it with you."
"It's okay papa." Margaret replied gently sitting with her back against the wall. She wanted to ask him so dreadfully where he was, and if he was safe. The words came dry to her lips. "Nok is making sure I don't squander the day."
Her father chuckled, "Tell him I said hello, and he'll have to deal with me if you two get into trouble."
Her smile broadened, "I can't promise you won't see us on the eleven o'clock news." There was a rumbling in the background. It made her stomach jump into her throat.
"I have to go now milaya." He said hurriedly, "I love you."
She couldn't return the sentiment because the line ended. Margaret sat against the wall huddled with her knees against her chest. Her father had been a special agent all her life. When she was younger he was home more, but now that she was nearly graduating college she'd seen him less and less. It wouldn't hurt so much if when he did come home he wasn't covered in yellowing skin.
Margaret finally came out of the bathroom. Nokadota was trying not to huff and puff but it showed.
"I put an outfit on your bed that will be appropriate for the entire day. We're going to be late at this rate!" he scuttled into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.
On her twin bed was a cranberry colored sweater dress and navy stockings. She was happily surprised that it wasn't the clubbing dress he'd purchased for her that had never been touched. Her phone vibrated alerting her to a text. It was from her aunt. A simple 'Happy Birthday, Love you 3'. She was probably having a busy day as well. Margaret wasn't exactly sure what her aunt did. She was around even less than her father, but would pop in quite unexpectedly.
Nok had been impatient with her. Now he was the one taking up time, but he finally walked out of his room in a grey knit sweater, brown skinny slacks, and his claw necklace he never went anywhere without. Margaret swore that if they hadn't lived together she would have gone most of college wearing paint covered sweats and hoodies. He held out his arm for her.
"Shall we Miss Ivanov?" he grinned.
The pair stepped out into the chilly October air. Manhattan at their fingertips. There was a black town car waiting for them. Margaret gave him a skeptical look. She knew he came from money, but it always made her feel off to have it be used on her.
"Don't make that face, and get in." he ushered.
She slide in to the opposite side of the car, "You best not have spent a lot or your parents are going to ring you a new one."
"Let me deal with my mama and baba, thank you." He leaned up to the driver, "Let's go, Thomas we have places to be."
Margaret ogled at their destination: Antiquarium, Ltd. Fine Ancient Arts Gallery.
"Come on then." Nok was holding the door open for her, "I have someone to introduce you to."
She was too preoccupied by the Egyptian pieces to notice Nokadota had slipped away from her. They were beautifully preserved. Margaret liked to guess where the pieces had come from before she looked at their plate. It made her feel like a detective. The rounded piece before her was obviously from a vase.
"It held a heart at one point." A silky voice pulled her from inspecting the delicate chisel.
Speaking of chiseled her brain thought. A man in a black suit, clean shaven, and a tussle of sandy-blond hair stood across the display from her. Margaret glanced down at the plate to see that it had been an organ jar. Mystery over.
His eyes squinted at her, "Wait…are you…do you I mean," he rubbed his hand against his chin, "You don't happen to go to Columbia do you?"
Before she could even muster up a word Nokadota called for her.
"Mags, come over here."
"Sorry I… I uh," Margaret backed away eagerly joining her friend who was with an older gentleman short with pepper colored hair.
"Margaret Ivanov, this is my friend Khal's uncle, Mr. Peter Pavlov the owner of this fine establishment." Nok said.
Margaret stuck out her hand instantly, "It's so nice to meet you Mr. Pavlov. Your gallery is astonishing."
His cold hand shook hers back, "I can see the wonder in your eye. Nok here says you're about to graduate in spring with an art degree. Just so happens I'm looking to take on a new helper." Margaret's heart thrashed, "Nothing fancy at first but it'll get you into the gallery scene."
"I….I… would absolutely love that." She managed. Nok's grin couldn't have possibly gotten any wider.
They spent, to Nok's dismay, around three hours in the gallery and they didn't have a chance to go to the second floor. Margaret thoroughly enjoyed Mr. Pavlov. He was a kind soul who cherished each of the pieces in his collection. Each came with a story of how it came to be.
"I hate to break of the nerd talk," Nok interrupted during a story of a piece from the Ming Dynasty, "Miss Ivanov and I have another destination."
"I have taken too much time," Mr. Pavlov nodded softly. He smiled at her, "Let me know when you are free and we will start paperwork."
She shook his hand again as if she were afraid to let go and the deal would be off. Eventually she let go following Nok's impatient foot tap. Her eyes glanced for the man in the suit but he was gone.
They returned to the town car. Nok gave a breath of relief.
"Bast, I thought we would be there forever." He groaned rolling his neck.
Margaret squeezed his hand drawing his attention, "Thank you." She said.
Nok smiled, "Don't ever say I don't give the best presents."
"Wouldn't think of it." She replied as the town car pulled away.
"Did I hear your phone go off earlier?" Nok asked. The traffic on the upper west side was always abysmal.
"Yeah, my dad." She replied.
"Ah, how's the ol' man?" Nok asked offhandedly craning his neck to look at the traffic.
"Okay, I think." Margaret answered softly, "It wasn't a long conversation."
"I'd kill for a short conversation. My mama's shortest phone conversation was like twenty minutes." He nudged her shoulder noticing her forlorn expression, "I'm sure your dad's fine. He's built of some tough stuff."
Margaret nodded in reply glancing off into traffic. They hadn't moved in awhile. "Looks like something's going on at the Muse—um…." She cast a shrewd glance at her friend. "Nok…."
"Mags." He replied avoiding her eyes by leaning forward to the front seat.
"Are we in a processional for the history museum for a reason?" She asked with a bit of a snap.
"I may or may not have gotten us into a special party." Nok replied as if it were nothing.
"I'm not walking in front of cameras." She said staunchly. He had hoodwinked her into that before and she had felt absolutely embarrassed. She'd called his mother directly after. That was their longest phone conversation to date; Five hours.
There was a long silence.
"Oh alright, birthday girl." Nok sighed opening the door on his side, "Come on." He swung his arm in a pointing motion.
Margaret slide out of the car. She could see the red carpet sweeping up the stairs. Photographers lights shuttering. Her gaze even more shrewd than she thought possible. Nok shrugged. Not an apologetic twitch in his expression.
"Is there a side door?" She asked nervously.
Her friend smiled leading the way to a staircase on the side of the museum. Nokadota coughed to make the door security aware of their presence.
"Nokadota of Wakanda, I also have a guest slot."
The man nodded allowing them into the lobby. The History Museum was cast in a spectacular golden light. A large banner swept over the balcony answering her question on what the special exhibit was; Heroes of New York.
"Welcome!" one of the museum workers handed them a map, "The exhibit snakes through the entire museum. Food, Beverages and dancing are held in the main lobby. Enjoy the evening!"
Margaret gripped Nokadota's arm. She knew once she let it go he'd be lost from her. The crowd was uncountable. She was sure they were breaking some fire code. Nokadota waltz them across the crowded lobby to the bar. He leaned over to place their order. She glanced over the map. The closest exhibit to them were the 'Heroes of Manhattan' and the 'Heroes of 9 11'. Logically, that's where one should start, however, after receiving the moscatos from the bar the pair discovered that was everyone's starting point.
"Let's follow it backwards then." Margaret suggested.
"Brilliant idea." Nok spun them around guiding them seamlessly through the crowd again.
The wing they entered was draped in red, white and blue. A soft instrumental tune piped through the ceiling speakers. At the center of the room was a clear cylinder display with a mannequin dressed in an outfit every New Yorker could recognize; Captain America.
Nok gave a cursory glance to the plaque. She could see him spying a very dapper looking bachelor near their age. Mags returned her eyes to the display. She leaned on her toes having been almost tall enough to envision her face in the helmet.
"The best thing to come out of Brooklyn," a voice said behind her, "Other than the invention of the air conditioner."
Margaret's heart punched against her ribs. It was the man from the art gallery. He was smiling just slightly. It was pulling on his right cheek. He was dressed the same although his sudden appearance next to her made her stomach rustle.
"Knowledgeable about ancient Egypt and Brooklynn." She took a long sip of her wine peering across the room to locate Nok. His back was toward her. He was in full flirt mode.
"History major," his blue eyes glanced down at her. Even in the dim light they sparkled. "I was trying to ask you earlier if you went to Columbia too." His long fingers scratched the line of his jaw.
Margaret felt a small semblance of relief against her earlier paranoia but wasn't overly convinced. "Did Professor Keltmer get you tickets for the event?" she hid the quiver in her lip, the lie, into the glass.
His brows came together in confusion, "Professor Keltmer, I'm afraid I haven't had him yet." he said, "It was actually Professor Xi Chang who managed to get myself and another student tickets. Did a Professor in your department get you tickets?"
A parade of needles danced across her stomach, "Oh uh... no." she replied quickly, "I can't really see the arts department splurging on a history gala." a nervous trickle of laughter followed. She realized he might think she was of a higher society, "My friend managed to get us tickets for my birthday. He's the king of networking." Margaret managed.
The smile continued to pull at his cheek, "Well happy birthday…." he leaned over a bit.
She scrambled realizing he was waiting for her name, "Margaret."
"Margaret," he said softly, "Happy birthday." he repeated before sticking out his hand, "James." He took his hand away, "Well, I won't keep you from your friend."
Margaret glanced to where she had last seen Nokadota. His body was gone from the room. "I think someone else is keeping my friend from me." she mumbled.
He had moved away from her to the other side of the room. His neck was craning up at the piece displayed through thick glass. Margaret walked over to the piece. The plaque was made of bronze and the largest part of the inscription read "Captain America's Shield, Generously donated by the Stark Foundation". She looked up at the shield skeptically. Who in their right mind would allow this to be displayed. It was clearly asking for trouble.
"Enjoying the exhibit?" a sultry voice came from behind her. James broke apart from her as the body pushed between them. He was a tall lanky man a bit older than her. His look was formal but lazy as though he didn't have a care in the world. Neither Mags nor James replied.
"My mother donated that." he brought his fingers to his puckering lips before bringing them back out with a 'smacking' sound, "Finishing piece of the entire exhibit."
"So your-" James started his eyes a bit beset with shock.
The man stuck out a firm hand, "Anthony Morgan Stark."
Margaret blinked. He looked similar to his magazine photos but not nearly as put together. It was the eyes that made her realize this accusation was true. Anthony Stark was known to make her whole high school class swoon just by picture of his eyes; green with speckles of grey. They could be either really. She remembered her genetics teacher Ms. Kaplin spent an entire class talking about how his eyes were a genetic anomaly.
He stuck his hand out to her, "And you?" his voice was softer with her and so was his hand when she took it.
"Margaret Sarah Ivanov." She lifted up her empty cup hoping to find refuge in it from her burning cheeks. Why the hell did she say her middle name like him?
"Looks like your cups running on empty there." Anthony said with a grin that almost made her feel like those high school girls, "My father's about to give a speech in the main lobby. You could refill and give it a listen."
"That sounds-" She started.
There was a crash from the far end of the room. Margaret hoped it wasn't something from the exhibit. The doors to the wing of the museum closed and the regular museum lights snapped on along with a whirling alarm.
"That can't be good." Anthony said taking off in a run towards the sound.
James was about to say something when the window closest to them shattered. He turned shielding her from the spray of glass. Two man dressed in complete black body armor barked at them.
"Step aside!" they said.
Margaret shifted back noticing something rather odd for burglars. They didn't have guns. James brought his hands up in a surrendering motion, but his foot stepped forward. She'd taken too many self-defense courses to not know what that meant. He brought his arm back and did a quick chest jab to the man closest to him. This sent one of them stumbling but the other leaned forward placing a gloved hand on James shoulder. There was an electric sizzle and James crumbled to the ground.
The assailant met eyes with her, "Step aside."
Margaret's limbs were numb to the command. When the man's hand came upon her she flinched expecting to end up like James. The man merely shoved her to the side. She caught herself on the nearest display. He put a hand up to the glass display of the shield. It began to melt into a sizeable hole. Margaret screamed at herself to do something, but self defense lessons were lax on what to do about a armed man stealing the symbol of a great hero.
"Freeze Johnny Cash." Anthony quipped from the far end of the room. His hand was encased in a gauntlet with the palm of it radiating a particle beam that Iron Man was famous for. Margaret met his eyes. They were more grey than green now, and kept pulling to the right. She understood shifting behind the mahogany display out of harm's way. The particle beam lit up the room like a spot light. A horrible curiosity bit her. She glanced past the protection of the display. The beam had met the shield stopping it dead in its tracks.
"Get out of here. I'll hold them off!" the other assailant sprung across the room to lock Anthony in a battle. The other leapt out the window.
She lurched from the her hiding spot as if ready to chase after him. Her body stopped noticing James slowly come to with a low groan. He blinked furiously looking around before catching her in his sights, "Margaret, are you okay?"
"Me?" She held out a hand to pull him up, "Are you okay?"
"I, uh, think so?" he scratched the back of his head seeing Anthony detain the other man, "Guess I was a bit mad to do that."
"A bit." Margaret replied with a soft smile.
The doors to the wing flew open. Nokadota flanked by the NYPD entered the room. The police immediately went to the detainee. Her friend flew to her side.
"Mags! Are you okay?" His clothes were a bit disheveled and his chest gave a rapid in and exhale.
She nodded a bit perturbed he had abandoned her. Not that it was out of his character to do so, but still. He squeezed her side in relief.
"Much help you were, your highness," Anthony waltzed over to them collapsing the gauntlet into his pocket square.
"Not now Stark." Nok hissed through his teeth.
Anthony rolled his eyes long and slow before looking at Margaret, "Are you alright?" his voice softer again.
"Wait...wait." Mags pushed away from Nok, "You know each other?"
"Oh, man." Anthony put a hand over his heart feigning distress, "Your highness doesn't deem me worthy-."
"Shut. It. Stark." Nokadota snapped.
Margaret shivered. She had never heard such a harsh and serious tone from her friend before. Before it escalated the police pulled them all aside to ask what had happened. A woman officer sat her down at the nearest bench with her notepad and pen ready in her lap. She relayed the recent events as best she could, but her eyes kept flickering to Nok who was talking with another office. Their conversation finished quickly. The office dipped his head slightly and it made Margaret's stomach wring like a dish cloth.
"Alright dearie, that's all I need." the officer smiled patting her leg, "You get home and try to put this behind you."
She gave a small wave to James who was still in his interview before Nok ushered her out of the museum and into the town car.
"Take us home Thomas." Nokadota instructed.
Margaret tried to unwring her stomach. She hated confrontation but the thoughts were all piling on top of each other. Did two snarky comments warrant this much thought?
"Yes, its true." Nokadota said in almost a whisper. He had an annoying habit of being able to know what was on her mind, but even now it was obvious. He also knew she wasn't stupid. It made sense now that she thought back on it but the truth stung. They had been friends for nearly four years and he didn't feel comfortable enough to tell her who he really was? "I am Prince Nokadota second son of King T'Challa…." he folded and unfolded his hands continuously, "I didn't tell you because-." Nok groaned in frustration, "Please don't be mad Mags." he beseeched grasping for her hands.
She let him hold her hands but said nothing. The rest of the ride home was silent. Once they arrived she went straight to her room hearing Nok call out half-heartedly. To say the least she felt a bit betrayed or even foolish. She turned on the light kicking off her shoes. Her room was more of a closet, but since Nok was paying the rent….or technically his father was, she felt only right she have the smaller room. There wasn't a closet just a bar that acted as a place to hang her clothes. Margaret threw off her clothes before shuffling over to her bed. It was strange. She didn't remember leaving her throw blanket over the bed. With the day she had though did it really matter? Margaret lifted up the blanket ready to crawl into bed but every muscle in her body froze. It was red, white, and blue and had just been stolen from the museum not long ago.