Women just need one more often.
How hard could it be to find the way back to a freaking 50 story building? She should have been able to just look up and see it, but there was too much smoke and dust hanging in the air. The Master Spy, Lost in New York City. It sounded like a bad movie. Disorientation was not something she was accustomed to with all of her high tech backup. Of course, it's not like there was an app that could magically naviagate her though the rubble they had made of Manhattan. It was a whole new streetscape.
Somewhere, someone was blaming the Avengers she was sure. Fury was probably already having to deal with the flak from, what term did Stark use? Ah, the Mundanes, and Mundanity. Yes, the Mundanes would be in full counterattack mode by now, the media finding as many stuttering idiots as they could to interview on live television. Thank all the powers that may be that a mile-wide radius around Grand Central was cordoned off by SHIELD soldiers, so no media here.
No bathrooms either apparently. Who thought to lock up when running away from aliens? Most every storefront had the shutters down. Was it too much to ask for a door that she didn't have to kick or shoot to get open? She had no ammo left, and tasers were no help with locksets. She sighed and wished again that she had just used the bathroom at that weird restaurant before they left. But even world-class spy-assassins had hangups, and hers was going to the restroom if others knew that's where she was headed.. She just couldn't bring herself to get up and walk over, knowing that all those men at the table would see where she went, and know what she was doing. Ewww.
The problem with irrational fears is, well, that they are irrational. There is no way to logically assault a position that is inherently defenseless and therefore, in no need of defense. Or something like that. She couldn't remember exactly how Dr. Phil had put it, but it had made sense at the time. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be back in her cozy little room on the helicarrier, able to use her own private bathroom any time she wanted, listening to that comforting voice from the television.
Success at last! A doorway without bars across it, and unlocked! She stepped into the gloom of what seemed to be one of those ubiquitous dollar discount stores and looked around. At the back of the store was a small, hand-lettered sign that pointed to her salvation: "Restrooms for Customer Use Only." It wouldn't be the first time she ignored a warning sign.
A few minutes later she was readjusting her suit and maneuvering between cases of SnoMint mouthwash and knockoff Barbies on her way out when a shadow moved across the store's window. The accumulation of dust and grime on the glass prevented her from seeing much, but it was definitely a human form that had passed by; not a vehicle or leftover alien. She drew her gun, then cursed silently when she remembered her lack of ammo.
A/N: Okay, so I went with a little bit of humor on this one. The first chapter had a bit of true story to it (My 9th grade Health teacher told that college story about himself. Yeah, it was weird and uncomfortable to hear, but memorable!), and this one does too. Remember 9-11 and all those people having to walk out of Manhattan and across the bridges? It took hours for some, and there was a problem for many with finding bathrooms along the way. I couldn't help but throw in a little LO:Criminal Intent reference. Anyone spot it?
I've decided that this story will cover all of the Avengers, and what might satisfy each one, some more serious than others. And don't worry, everything will tie together in the end. I hope. At least that's what the plot bunny assured me, but he looked a little strange when he said it. . .