Agent of Change
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!
To a Mouse – John Burns
Prologue: Best Laid Plans
In a back alley, dark and dank, almost looking like all the world's disease could have originated in its walls, two people stood. One was thin and wiry, wearing a blue pinstriped suit and sneakers, ankle length overcoat over it all. He was a tall man, messy mop of brown hair sitting on top of his thin face, intelligent brown eyes glaring at the woman standing before him. For all his height, she seemed to tower over him, and she was much denser than he was. Her skin was a golden brown, bright blue eyes seemed to glow in contrast, her tightly curled reddish black hair pulled back into a bun that was really just a mass of curls and waves. She was built like a brick wall, broad shouldered and well muscled, but a shapely enough woman still. She was wearing a old gray tank top, a flack jacket over the top, with a strange patch on the sleeve, worn blue jeans on the bottom, covering over a pair of black combat boots. A military duffle bag was slung over her shoulder, and she continually adjusted it, as if uncomfortable. Around her neck hung two things. A pair of dog tags, and what looked almost like a tribal necklace, long cylinder beads made of dark wood and four claw like bits.
"You're running away." The man said, crossing his arms.
"I'm not running away, I'm moving on. Doc, you and I both know that we don't get along well. We're two hugely different people. I shoot, you chat. Sorry, but that's just how it is. I'm a solider, and probably one of the worst times of your life was when you found out Martha became a solider. I can't live with someone like that, eventually we'd have a falling out, and I want to leave on good terms, okay?" The woman replied.
"You claimed you wanted downtime. You said you were done." "Doc" shifted, standing fully now, not leaning on the blue phone booth behind him any longer. The woman sighed, kicking at the ground.
"I'm tired, ok? I don't want to run around shooting stuff anymore. That's been my life for a good long time. Let the world take care of itself for a little while. I've done my part, I want to settle down. Is that so wrong?" She asked, and shifted her bag again. "Here is where we go our separate ways, Doctor." The man nodded, and opened the door to his box, then paused.
"Just do me one favor Orion." He said. "Don't blindly follow orders." Orion frowned and was about to say something when the door closed and the box began to vanish.
"Nobody's giving me orders…" She was left saying to open air. As she watched the box go for the last time, Orion found that she felt a little hollowed out inside, a little empty. Sadness, a familiar feeling to her, but one she had not felt this way in many years. She was going to miss him. Now that was shocking.
She found herself watching that patch of now empty air with wet eyes, and wishing she had said good bye. She took a deep breath, and shifted the duffle bag on her shoulder again, the faded "US" facing out. Across her front was another bag, this one given to her just that day by the man whom she had just left. She didn't know what was inside, not that she minded terribly, she would explore it's contents later when she had a place to settle down. She was in a whole new world now, of sorts. She was in New York, her home city, a place she knew like the back of her hand. Of course, she knew nearly everything that well, her memory a steel trap with no gaps, no holes. It took her no more than a nanosecond to know her location, and at least fifty routes to where she wanted to go. Grand Central Station was her destination, she would mull over where to settle for the night once she made it there.
Her eyes were down cast, though with her height she could still see all the people around her. Orion was the sort of person who looked as though she could rip you limb from limb without a thought or a care, and most people stayed out of her way. She did not mean to be intimidating, it was merely her presence, a terrifying demeanor was her neutral, and she did not have the energy or will to change it at the moment. And so she walked, head down, electric blue eyes fixed on pavement, one foot in front of the other, ever closer to her destination.
The end of an era. She mused, finally looking up, her steps counted and turns recalled, she had made it to Grand Central on her mental map and math alone. I'm going to settle a little, I think. Orion stared past the familiar old building and at the new, unfamiliar one behind it. It was a strange shape, seeming to still be under construction. In what would be, some day, lighted letters the name "STARK" was emblazoned across a ring at the top. Maybe I'll get a job in private security or some such nonsense. She smirked to herself as she pushed her way into the station.
And for the first time in a long time, Orion Cooper was just another face in the crowd.