I had worked for Shield for two years. I delivered paperwork, fetched coffee, worked in the cafeteria and so on. I considered myself useful and was generally liked well enough by the other office personnel and agents I worked with. But I never gained much attention, which is why I was so shocked when I received my transfer pages. "There must be some mistake," I stated, looking up from the orders in my hands at the blank-faced agent who'd given them to me. "They can't want me. Only the important members of Shield get to work on board the helicarrier."
"Well, I suppose they need menial work done up there, too. Pack your bags. You'll be living aboard the helicarrier. I will pick you up at 0700 tomorrow."
"Oh, so you're the Shield postman, then?" I wondered, faking innocence. It hadn't escaped my notice that he'd called my work 'menial.' The agent gave me a displeased look and walked away. I finished my work and went home to pack as instructed. Going to bed that night, I said my evening prayers and let my mind wander. I was quite excited… and rather nervous. The helicarrier was the mobile base of Director Nick Fury himself… Not only that, but it was also the training grounds, testing facilities and meeting place of the superhero/vigilante squad known as The Avengers. When they weren't busy, they spent much of their time at Stark Tower, however Dr Bruce Banner stayed primarily on the helicarrier, and the others were always in and out as they went about their business. I did hope that I might meet one or two of them at some point. I did so admire their work.
…
"These are your living quarters. The recreation room is at the end of this corridor. Back the way we came and to the left is Dr Banner's lab, and further along that corridor is the bridge where everything is monitored. This concludes your briefing; you start work tomorrow at 0600."
"But sir, what am I to do?" I asked as the agent moved to leave me.
"The same sort of work you were doing back in the offices. Remember, 0600." The agent left and I looked around my new home. The room was sterile. There was a standard mattress, crisp, white sheets, and a chest of drawers. There was also a small kitchenette and a lavatory, but the communal showers were down the hall just before the recreation room.
"Home sweet home," I sighed. Putting down my suitcase, I started to arrange my new place to my liking. When I had finished, I was ready for bed, but I was satisfied with my day's work. There was a rust, tan and gold shaggy rug on the floor by the bed, I had added an autumn/earthy-toned patchwork quilt made by my younger sister to the bed, and many pictures were stuck to my walls. Some I'd drawn or painted myself, others printed from the computer. I loved funny animal pictures, so I had many of those displayed on my walls. I also had my own personal first aid kit, in case of emergencies, stored carefully under my bed. My uniforms and underwear were folded neatly in my chest of drawers, as were my spare pyjamas. I went to the showers, readied myself for bed, and returned to my quarters. The next day, I would really begin settling in.
I found the surveillance centre and watched the goings on to see what might need doing that I could accomplish. I took a notebook to mark down my observations. I noticed that the storerooms could use organising, so I marked it down. I could easily organise a beverage trolley for the agents on the bridge, and if I could find out when there are meetings, I could organise a trolley for them, too. Dr Banner worked very hard; he could definitely have a tray brought to him in his lab, since he appeared to be too dedicated to his work to go out and get food and drink himself… I'd have to be extremely careful in that delivery, though. Aside from the risk of lab accidents, there was always the somewhat nerve-wrecking possibility of the good doctor 'Hulking Out,' as I had heard it described. Captain America could crush me if he wanted to, never mind the Hulk!
It didn't take me long to figure out how Director Fury liked his coffee; black with two sugars. And Agent Barton liked his coffee dark, but not black, with no sugar. Agent Romanoff preferred tea to coffee. I'd discover what Dr Banner liked at dinner that evening, and none of the other Avengers made an appearance. Taking my notes with me, I located one of the store rooms and set about devising a new organisational paradigm. By the end of the day, I still hadn't completed the storeroom; however I had definitely improved the system and felt satisfied. I looked into the cafeteria and watched the higher-ups socialise. Dr Banner sat alone with two tables between him and the rest of the congregation. He did have coffee; black, three sugars.
When I settled myself into bed that night, I made plans for the next day. Finish storeroom, continue snooping, gather more useful information in order to improve the functionality and working conditions aboard the helicarrier. If I continued to clean the storerooms for half the day and learn about my surroundings the other half, I should be up and running by the end of next week, factoring in the time needed to attend my mandatory training courses. With that in mind, I fell asleep. When I woke, I readied myself for the day and headed straight to the storeroom. Once I had finished, I went to the training area as I was instructed and waited.
There were eleven new recruits besides myself. I was the thinnest by far, and the shortest by just under an inch. I wasn't physically impressive, so the fighting was a bit of a hassle, but I was always adaptable… and stubborn. If I wanted something, I went after it with everything I had. I had strong, pointy bones, a high pain tolerance, and knowledge of pressure points. I was confident I could use those assets to my advantage. I had above average eyesight and a strong sense of duty, so if I could improve my aim, I could be a decent marksman. If someone was threatening me or that which I care about, I was certain that I could kill. All in all, I would make a reasonable back-up agent.
When I had completed my first training session, I went back to my quarters and downed two Ibuprofen pills to help ward of the muscular pains I was sure would come. After performing some stretches to loosen up after my training, I gathered my gear and headed for the showers. "Hey!" I turned to face the speaker, blinking. "How'd you do that thing earlier? When you grabbed that other guy's neck and forced him to kneel?" the speaker wondered. Arching an eyebrow, I stepped towards him and dug the nails of my right hand into either side of his spine, pushing down. "Ow, ow, ow, ow," the speaker complained, trying to push my arm away and wincing when it made my nails drag along his neck. I continued to push until he knelt and released him.
"Pressure points," I explained simply, walking on.
"Hey!" the guy called out again, following me. He grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed. I was expecting it, so I simply twisted my body so I slid out of his grasp.
"It works better with fingernails," I informed him.
"Huh," he huffed. After a moment, he spoke again. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Ellie Jean Carter."
"Eric Arthur Wills," the guy said, holding out his hand. I shook it briefly. "So, you don't look like much of an agent, if you don't mind my saying so," Eric continued.
"Looks can be deceiving. Now I'm going to take a shower. Goodbye."
"You don't talk much, do you?" Eric called out. I smiled for the first time during our conversation.
"Sometimes. Sometimes I don't shut up." I went into the showering room and Eric followed me in.
"I've gotta take a shower, too," he told me, holding up a duffle bag for me to see. I shrugged.
"So take a shower," I told him, pulling my hair out of its tight bun and letting it fall about my shoulders. I disappeared into a stall. I heard him set himself up in the stall next to me before he continued talking.
"So how old are you, Ellie?"
"A lady never tells," I replied, stripping off. Eric chuckled.
"Okay. Is that hair all real?" he asked. I laughed.
"Yes, it's real! You can pull on it if you're not convinced."
"Is it always that curly?" he asked as I turned on the shower.
"If I brush it while it's still wet, then yes. But if I brush it while it's dry, only the ends stay curly and it becomes wavy instead."
"Is it as soft and fluffy as it looks?" I sighed.
"Yes, it is," I confirmed, rolling my eyes. "What about you? Are you really that golden, or do you dye your hair?"
"It's real," Eric said, voice muffled.
"Are you brushing your teeth?" I asked.
"Ah huh," Eric confirmed. I smirked.
"Okay." I put my head under the stream and wet my hair, grabbing my shampoo.
"Where are you from?" Eric asked after spitting.
"I'd rather not say," I said. "Do you wear contact lenses?"
"Yeah. How'd you know?"
"I have a thing about eyes, I thought I saw lens rings in yours. Personally, I like guys with glasses."
"Do you wear glasses?"
"No," I responded, starting my conditioner. "I have above average eyesight."
"So can you shoot?"
"Not particularly well, but I'm willing to practice until I get it right. You?"
"I'm a pretty decent shot, yeah," he confirmed. "So, why are you here, anyway?"
"I'm just a worker, not an agent. I organise storage and stuff like that."
"That makes sense. I'm here to compete to become an agent, like the others." I stayed silent at that. "Ellie?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Um, I'd like to be an agent, but I don't think I'm really agent material. I'm not built for strength or speed, so… yeah." I shut off the water and dried myself off.
"Well, what are you built for, then?" Eric wondered as I stepped out of the stall wearing a nightdress. I looked thoughtfully at him wearing black boxers and rubbing his hair with his towel. After a few moments, a smiled slightly.
"Invisibility," I decided.
