La Foule by Edith Piaf
If you could, listen to the song, but more importantly read the translation. It's quite beautiful.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The low, constant sound rang softly in my ears. Everything was dark and still, and my body seemed to be far away from where I was. I very slowly opened my eyes, too groggy to make any other movements. My vision was extremely blurry, but I shut them instantly from shining white light. Once I could fully open them, I took in my surroundings. I laid in a hospital bed, attached to a heart monitor and an IV bag. The florescent lighting and bright white walls emphasized the sterility of the room, but it still didn't seem like a hospital. There was no furniture, no windows, only a large glass door.
"Hello?" I called out in my vain. To my own ears, my voice seemed to scream. But in reality, my voice was painfully subdued for fear of not knowing who-or what- would answer me back.
I sat up and slowly swung my legs around the bed. That alone sent my head spinning. I closed my eyes and tried to remember how I got here. Bits and pieces flashed before me.
Men.
Guns.
Me, stuck in the middle.
Beep.
Beep.
The heart monitor seemed to have gotten louder, and I angrily ripped the wires off my arms. I slowly stood, hoping my motor abilities weren't impaired. After a few timid steps, I had gotten the hang of it. I seemed perfectly fine, yet my body felt a bit sore. It probably wasn't safe to push it, After a few stretches, I felt a sharp pain from my sides. I looked down and to see skin covered in gauze. Gingerly, I removed the coverings, revealing a few nice cuts that had required stitches.
"I'll deal with that later."
I stupidly looked around the room to see if there was anything else to wear other than my jeans and tank top that had gone under my original shirt. There weren't even charts or files, much less clothing. It could have been worse, I could have been modeling a hospital gown. Not the best outfit to escape in.
Escape. Right. Get your priorities straight Ev. Wherever I was, it couldn't have been good, and I didn't plan on staying any longer. As I approached the door, I noticed a faint logo in the glass. A large circle, with a sharply cut eagle in the center. Beneath it, an acronym.
"What's S.H.I.E.L.D?"
It had been more than a year since Steve Rogers had entered S.H.I.E.L.D. And although time had gone on, it seemed that nothing had changed. Rooms were pristine and kept clean as though battles had never happened there. Agents ran around calling out orders, zipping from room to room. Empty seats where deceased agents had worked were now filled with new operatives. It was like S.H.I.E.L.D. had a back-up supply of them in case the situation ever came up. Steve brought his arms behind his back and walked over to the large windows, watching the agents work. He was at a loss wondering why he was called back here. He remembered what happened a year ago. He had agreed to joining something called the "Avenger's Iniative," S.H.E.I.L.D.'s secret weapon to battle forces they themselves couldn't hope to defeat. The mission brought together a group of powerful misfits who got off to a shaky start. It seemed all too familiar the arguments and fights that had happened here. But ultimately, the group had been able to put their differences aside and come to recognize one another as friends. Together, they had saved New York from being destroyed at the hands of a power-hungry god who had complete control of the Tesseract.
The Tesseract...it had haunted Steve for 70 years. It was his last mission before he became unconscious, and the first when he woke up. He remembered the battle in the city all too well, like it had just happened yesterday.
"I wonder where everyone is now..." his voice barely audible. The mission had brought them together, but all had returned to someplace they could call home, however far away that was. Home was now a foreign concept to Steve.
"I see someone hasn't given up on the Thirties just yet."
Steve whipped around to see Tony Stark standing in front of the room. He seemed as cool and egotistical as ever.
"You might want to learn a thing or two. Some girls like their guys old-fashioned." Steve couldn't help but give a good-natured smile. Despite the slow start the two had, all ended well. He extended his hand, and Tony took it eagerly. Steve could truly consider Stark a friend. Even though people thought him to be a wise-cracking playboy (and rightfully so), there was good and intelligence in the man. Steve believed the casanova bit was just a front.
"So, what have you been up to lately? Causing any trouble that would have made me have to haul my ass back up here?" Steve shook his head. "No, I was wondering if you could tell me that."
Before Tony could even open his mouth, the door pulled apart to let two more operatives enter the room: agents Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton.
"You two boys playing nicely?" Natasha asked, but Steve wasn't sure if it was a really a question. The slim redhead eyed the two, always on the alert for trouble to happen. "I'm sure if they weren't, they wouldn't be standing here." Barton said with a quick wink, and extended his hand to the two. "Don't mind Nat, she's just on edge."
"And rightfully so." She crossed her arms and eyed him.
"Good God, they're bringing us all back."Tony realized.
Steve stepped forward, "But for what?"
He was interrupted as all eyes fell on Bruce Banner. The meek scientist walked in slowly, nodding to the group. Steve saw Tony tense, and Natasha instinctively caress her gun. Bruce was a good guy, but cynical and self-loathing because of his "condition." However dangerous he was, the Hulk was an extremely powerful ally, and a good person.
"Hello," he said to no-one in particular. Steve noticed that Bruce had put distance between himself and the group, an action he had to make so often he didn't even have to think about it. The group relaxed, and returned the greeting. Steve thought he could see a twinge of guilt in Natasha's face.
"We were just trying to figure out why we were all here." Barton informed him. If anyone were to know, it would have been the S.H. .D agents, and even they were at a loss.
"Is Loki free?" Banner questioned. Steve had not considered that, and from the looks on everyone faces, no one else had either. The last they had seen of him was the last time they were together. Thor, another Avenger, who also happened to be his god and older brother, had brought the Tesseract away from earth. Loki accompanied him to face punishment for his crimes. No one had heard from the God of Mischief since.
"Loki is not the problem." A deep voice sounded from the other side of the room. Nick Fury, head operative of S.H.I.E.L.D, entered and quickly looked over the present members. He hadn't changed a bit. Still cold and commanding, always ready for to take charge.
"But," he continued, strolling to the front of the room, "once again we are dealing with other worldly forces beyond our control, possibly even stronger than Loki."
Barton stood a little taller, and Steve and Tony took their seats at the giant glass table. All their attention was focused on Fury, waiting for him to continue. He waited a moment before speaking, something he didn't normally do. That was because what he was about to say next even made him think twice about the situation.
"So to combat this, we're going to have to bring in worldly forces of our own."
Almost on cue, the debriefing room doors opened one final time. All turned around to see who the "worldly force."
They were greeted with the face of fellow Avenger, Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, who had helped earth in times of great need.
And behind him followed his younger brother Loki.