A/N: Hello everyone, long time no see. Here is a story I've been working on for a while; set in the Marvel, Avengers fandom. Right now my OC (original character) in the story has no particular love interest, but I'm working on it. (Of course a fic of mine would be nothing without a love interest!)
For a bit of information on my OC, her full name is Emily Daines, and she is 26.
Also my plot is a little iffy on this, as I'm writing without thinking and piecing everything together (as always).
I hope you enjoy, please follow/watch/review if you would like to see more. I have Chapter Two pre-written, while I'm still working on Chapter Three. Updates may be slow, quick, or long-in-waiting, as my life see fits.
~Quieti:c
Chapter One:
I can't open my eyes. I try, but they're heavy and it feels as if someone glued them shut. It's extremely quiet; all I can hear is my blood pounding hard. It's a struggle to remember what happened—my mind is swimming with images of a darkened ally . . . we were ambushed . . . someone . . . someone betrayed us?
Finally my eyes wrench open, and it's extremely painful. I blink rapidly, the red around my vision unnerving. Only now do I notice the rope biting into my wrists. I try struggling against the bonds but it's no good, and I seem to be disarmed.
"Finally awake? Good—I was getting bored." A female voice. High, aristocratic. I don't recognize it.
My body aches as I try to turn myself towards the sound. "Where am I?" My voice is just above a whisper. A tortured, pained whisper, and I am ashamed to show weakness in front of the enemy.
A low, melodic laugh fills my ears, and the sound of heels against concrete approach slowly. "Oh my dear, you do not need to worry about that. Your friends will never find you."
The word friends resonates sickly in my mind. I struggle against the binds once again, panic causing my breath to quicken. "What did you do to them?!"
My mind flashes back—yes, I remember now; we went out on a mission, Tony, Natasha, Steve and I. The others were supposed to meet us later. Supposedly, an anonymous informant had contacted S.H.I.E.L.D. and told them where we could find one of our most wanted. But it was an ambush . . . gunfire came out of nowhere, and there was this fire . . . this horrible, blood red fire that rained down on us. We fought . . . but . . . Tony fell, and I froze up . . . it's black after that.
"What. Did. You. Do." I repeat, almost growling through my clenched teeth.
She lets out another, lighthearted giggle, and I feel a hand caress my shoulder as she slowly walks around my chair and stands in front of me.
Definitely not what I was expecting—but then again, when you work for S.H.I.E.L.D., nothing should ever surprise you. She stood, tall and elegant, looking down her straight nose with deep black eyes. Soulless eyes. Her hair was dressed in perfect blond curls, which cascaded down her back, and she wore a deep red business suit.
"Oh, my lovely little thing, I did nothing to your friends. I let them go. I have no interest in boring little tools. However, you; I have much interest in you." Her full, red lips curved upwards in a menacing smile, her colourless eyes sparkling with menace. She took a step back and looked me over, nodding her head as if in approval. "Red suits you."
I couldn't help but spit at her feet. Her smile faltered and turned into a scowl of mock disgust, and she took another step back.
"Why me?" I asked, playing along, but also pretty curious. I tried not to show how much it relieved me to hear she did not harm them—but at the same time I knew she could be lying.
Her devilish grin was back. "Oh, you're not like the others."
Well that was very informative. "How so? Natasha and I are one in the same. I am no stronger than the others, I have no special skills. Initially, I'm the weakest in the group, as I have nothing magical or scientific imbued in me."
She seemed amused by my answer, and crossed her arms languidly over her chest, shifting her weight to one foot. "That's where you're wrong, my darling. You hide yourself from them; if they are really your friends, why would you be afraid?"
I jerked in shock, and stared up at her silently. She smirked and stepped closer, reaching out and gently brushing her hands on my face, my cheeks, and along my forehead, where she grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled.
"How did you know about that?" I asked, my voice shaking. No one knew about that. No one. Not except my family . . . and they would never tell anyone . . . not unless . . .
"Oh, calm yourself my dear thing." she coos to me, brushing out my hair with her fingers. She sighs almost longingly as she pets it smooth against my shoulders and neck. "I have done no harm to any of your loved ones for such information—in fact, it wouldn't be so hard for your friends to find out if they just knew where to look. Didn't they ever think it strange your hair always stayed in perfect place and you constantly had this hood up?"
My lips quivered in response. Technically, it wasn't that big of a deal. I wasn't any mutant, or an alien. The only thing different . . . or strange about me, was my hair. My naturally white hair. The reason I was shunned, scolded, and beaten as a child. It was one of my only weaknesses, and I had been running from it my whole life.
Why not shave it off, why not colour it? I tried. I cut my hair off and I was made even more a fool, and when I had tried to dye it, it rinsed right out. I convinced myself it was a curse; a curse for all the sins and horrible things I have done throughout my life.
"There, there," her soft murmuring snaps me back to attention. She is caressing my face in the most intimate manner, wiping wetness from my cheeks. I am shaking with fear, rage, and worry. I feel sick, and my head is pounding.
"Stop." I snap, turning my head away from her.
She ticks at me like a mother annoyed with their child, and it only angers me more.
"Who are you?" I ask, staring at the dirty floor. Looking at her, seeing those dark eyes look back at me, was too unnerving right now.
"My name is Ibis. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my darling Emily."
This time I do not show my surprise. Seemingly, this woman knows everything about me, even the stuff I've never shared with anyone. And that was the only reason I was afraid.
"How . . ." I choke out, closing my eyes in frustration. I was strong, and yet I was cowering, shaking like a newborn babe. And it killed me that I hoped they would come to my rescue. But if they saw me like this . . .
"I've been watching you for a while," she says nonchalantly, taking a seat in a chair I hadn't noticed before. She delicately crossed her legs, and raised her chin to continue looking down at me. "You're such an interesting woman. You love your friends, your coworkers, and your family with fierce, unbridled passion . . . and yet you go every day hiding from them, fearing their eyes upon your face for too long. Why?"
"Shouldn't I be the one with questions?" I spit harshly, snapping my head back to attention.
Her lips form an ill-shapen, lopsided smile that makes my skin crawl. "Oh, of course, but I do believe I have been waiting the longest." She tilts her head as she looks to me, then her gaze wanders somewhere behind me, where she waves a hand.
Not a second later a short, petite female with short black hair and wearing a spotless, wrinkle-free white suit scurries to her side, and leans in as Ibis whispers in her ear. She nods seriously and disappears behind me again, where I hear a door slide open and closed.
"I want to get you cleaned up; I'm terribly sorry for how my men treated you, but I had no other choice if I wanted to finally meet you."
I raised my eyebrows in sarcastic confusion. "If you know so much about me, you couldn't call, or come for a visit?"
She lets out a laugh that somehow has my stomach in knots. "Sadly not, or I wouldn't have taken such extreme measures. I don't intend to hurt you."
"If you don't intend to hurt me, then why am I still bound?"
"Because you would run, and I am not done talking to you yet." Her smile fades but her eyes are still alight with amusement.
I hear the door open and close again and the tiny girl drags a table to the side of the chair I am bound to. Then she sets down a large bowl and a couple wash cloths. She nods to her boss and exits silently.
Ibis pulls her chair close so our knees are touching, and she casually starts soaking one wash cloth in the bowl. I watch her silently, and the over all calmness of the situation is what has me unnerved.
As an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., I'm used to hostage situations. Captures. Interrogations. But Ibis . . . what was her intention? Apparently she did not want me here to lure the others or my agency. She showed no violence or apparent menace. I was well taught in psychology, the working mind of all kinds of killers, psychopaths, kidnappers, stalkers . . . but she didn't fit.
She meets my gaze and smiles as if she knew what I was thinking, then wrings the cloth before bringing it to my face, where she scrubs gently at my forehead. I crinkle my nose as her actions only make my head throb harder. She frowns and ticks again, a look of disappointment crossing her straight features.
"So, you have been waiting longer to ask me what questions exactly?" I ask after she sets down the now—disturbingly—bloodied washcloth.
She smiles and leans back, setting her hands in her lap. When she does not respond I raise my eyebrows.
"Why do you hide yourself from those you care about?" she asks finally, although she doesn't look pleased with herself.
"Because it would change the way they look at me." I say after another moment.
"You know they truly care for you, and you should know that people who truly care for you wouldn't care about something so minimal."
I don't respond. Instead I stare silently back into those soulless eyes.
"Or maybe . . ." she says, sounding a little reluctant. "Or maybe it's because you fear something you don't even understand?"
"What do you mean?" I ask, sincerely confused.
There's another pause of silence, and she looks deep into my eyes, as if she's expecting something. "Why do you think you have white hair?"
I blink a couple of times. That was a lot less anticlimactic than I had been expecting. This woman was so strange. I shrugged as best I could in response to her question, cringing partway through when I realized the action made my back feel like it was splitting in half. "A long time ago, when I was younger, I convinced myself it was a curse to make me suffer judgment and humiliation for my more than unholy actions."
"Do you believe in God then?"
"No," I said after thinking about it. "Not until I met . . . someone. I would think if there was a God he would be more merciful, but who knows."
She nodded silently, as if this were some therapeutic session. I squirmed uncomfortably in my binds under her scrutinizing gaze.
"You think more than that though, don't you, Emily?" She broke the long silence, almost startling me.
"I don't understand what you're implying," I stared back at her, completely lost.
"You think it's more than just a curse, don't you? Something . . . otherworldly. You want to believe there's a reason for it—you also want to fit in with your friends . . . but yet you fear being anything other than human. This is another reason why you interest me. You are so confused in yourself."
I swallow hard, unable to say anything, as now my tongue feels as if it's made of lead. This woman had to be playing some kind of mind tricks . . . maybe she had drugged me; I couldn't know. She stared just as silently back at me with her blank eyes and it felt like she was ripping out my mind to see what lay there.
"I . . ." Was what came out of my mouth. How could she be right? How could she know this, when I never spoke of it out loud, when I never confided in any one?
She smiles, almost sadly. "I'm going to give you a choice."
The tremors rocking my body slow as I tense at her words.
Ibis takes a deep breath and stands, smoothing out her skirt. "I'm going to untie you. You can leave, without any of my men or myself stopping you. Or . . . or you can stay and listen to the truth. The truth of why you have white hair. Of why . . . of why you do not belong on Earth."
I blink blindly up at her as she walks behind my chair and I feel the ropes becoming slack. Why would she just let me go? Just like that? Why was she giving me a choice? Of course, I didn't really believe the whole, "I kidnapped you but now I'm letting you go without getting anything out of this" bullshit.
I quickly stand once I am fully unbound and my legs, well my whole body, screams in protest. I have to lean myself against the table, which shakes with my struggle to stay upright.
And then I bolt for the door. There is no way in hell I am staying here and listening to this crazy bitch if I really had the chance of getting out of here alive with no strings attached.
I get to the door, where another short girl stands at attention, again dressed in bright white. She pays me no mind as the door slides open to greet me and I stumble into the hallway.
It's a chore to breathe and I only make it halfway down before I have to lean against the wall to prevent my knees from giving out. I had never felt so pathetic or weak in my life.
"Emily." I look up at the sound of my name. Ibis stands a few paces away and holds out my brown wig in her hand. There's a small smile on her face, but her eyes do not meet the gesture. "You still wouldn't want them knowing, would you?"
I eye her, unconvinced, but because I am already weak and there's not much else she can do to me, I walk to her and snatch the hair from her hands.
Carefully I pull my hair back and try to situate the wig best I can without a mirror. Then I tug my hood over my head and begin to walk down the hallway again.
"You're not human." She says behind me. My footsteps falter.
Keep going. I scream inside my head. But I can't move. Go. Leave. Go home. Don't listen to her. She's lying. She's crazy.
I bite down on my tongue, clenching my fists in a tight ball, and continue walking.
"You never compared yourself to the other children when you were younger? To your peers? That you learned quickly—not just out of intelligence but because it was just so easy. Too easy. You never thought it weird you could run for miles without breaking a sweat? Without losing your breath? It never surprised you how quickly you healed from wounds, or how much your body could withstand?"
The room around me seems to collapse beneath my feet, but in reality I don't move. I can't. I shake my head slowly, squeezing my eyes shut as her words seep in.
"No," I murmur, still shaking my head. "I was just an intelligent child. I had good stamina. I was healthy. I was human." I am human.
"But you don't believe that, do you?" her voice is next to my ear, but I can't even flinch in response. I just stand there and shake, trying to deny the thoughts she's shoving into my head.
"You're doing this on purpose!" I scream, and get no response but deafening silence ringing in my ears. "Stop putting shit in my head!"
"It's always been there," she murmurs close to my ear again. "You've always known, Emily, but you've never wanted to except it."
My eyes fall closed and warm tears trickle down my cheeks. I'm still shaking my head. I don't think I can stop. It's like my body is on autopilot and I'm watching myself implode from a distant view. "No . . . no. I'm human. How could I be anything else?" My voice sounds so tiny and broken.
Ibis coos quietly from behind me, and I feel her hand on my shoulder. She slowly turns me around to face her but I don't open my eyes.
After a minute of the only sound being my ragged breathing and pounding heart and head, I open my eyes. Her soulless orbs only unravel me further but I try my best to suck it up and keep calm.
She's the enemy. She's doing this on purpose. She's trying to get inside my head, plant darkness and deceit so I slowly kill myself off so she doesn't have to get her hands dirty. I've seen it happen all the time. Except . . . except . . . I could feel the truth in her words. And that's what hurt so badly.
"How . . . how would you know that I'm not human? If . . . If I am?"
"Because here on Earth, I am the all-seer. Like your friends Heimdall from Asgard. He sees all in the universe, and he is not alone. However, I received my powers . . . in a very different manner. I am attracted to watching trouble, darkness, and chaos. Heimdall protects, serves, and guards. I destroy, betray, and hide behind others."
I swallow harshly, but her words do not scare me. I knew she wasn't a good guy, not in any situation. It was her eyes . . . those knowing eyes which her words now give reason to the strangeness of them.
"If you watch darkness . . . then . . . why were you attracted to watching me?" I murmur almost against my own will. I want to sew my mouth closed and walk out of here. But her gaze and words hold me solid and . . . and I can't seem to leave until I know the truth. The truth that's been haunting me all these years.
"Because you come from darkness. Not necessarily are you dark, but there is darkness in you. The anger, the other unbridled thing you contain within yourself—the biting, nagging malice that makes your skin crawl. It's originally why you joined S.H.I.E.L.D., and why you tried to keep yourself distanced from normal people. People that couldn't protect themselves against you."
It hurts how much her words ring true. But I couldn't . . . I couldn't be "bad". Yet I knew, deep down, there was something wrong with me. With that unreasonable, almost constant seething.
"Is that all?" I'm defeated. Not only was I physically beaten but now it felt like what soul I had left was leaking out of me.
"For this time." she murmurs, finally dropping the hand that was on my shoulder.
"There's going to be a next time?" She really is crazy if she thinks I would come back here. Willingly or not, I'd rather die than see this bitch again.
"You are going to eventually want to know more, but for now you need to get home to your friends. I am sorry, Emily. I truly am. Today I spare you most of your sanity. Enjoy your friendships, enjoy your human life. It will no longer be available to you once you know who you truly are . . . and when others find out."
I soak in her words slowly. But I feel totally numb that I cannot react in a decent way anymore.
"Do not tell your friends about today. Lie to them. Do not tell them about me, about you. I don't want to have to silence them. And I know you would not want them silenced. My being here on Earth is a secret to all but you and my men now, and if any one else knew, they would have to die."
Her words still ring through my head as the cold rain pours in sheets over me. Somehow I've managed to get myself back near Stark tower, but I cannot bring myself to walk across the street. I can barely hold myself up, and do not care as people pass me by with concerned and disgusted expressions. I lean on a street lamp for support, and stare silently up at the glowing letters of the building, shining brightly despite the heavy rain and fog.
She told me to cherish this . . . to cherish them. But if I were to really lose them someday, because of the truth of my . . . race, would it be better to forget them now? The people who had been there for me, supported me, even if they didn't know all of me, they had stood over me when I had fallen and helped me back up over and over again. Despite being below them, they looked up at me, with smiles on their faces. I was one of them. I always would be.
I didn't notice when I had collapsed onto the sidewalk. I just lay there, feeling an unsettling calm wash over me as my eyes slid closed.
The last thing I heard, was footsteps pounding towards me.
A/N: And that's Chapter One everybody! I hope you enjoyed, I would really appreciate some feedback as this is the first time I'm publicly publishing any of my Avengers/Marvel works.
Chapter Two and Three should not be too long-coming after this, but I sadly can't make any promises.