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Coffee Girl
Chapter Ten: Fade
Steve found Agent Gray in an empty conference room with large windows on opposite ends, giving a generous view to both the New York cityscape and along the inner hallway. He knocked on the door frame as he stepped in.
"How come whenever you get hurt, I can't find you for a few days?" he accused.
Marcy only glanced up for a moment from her paperwork. "Because I like to lick my wounds in private. That's how I roll."
"And you're already off security detail?" Steve checked in a motherly tone. Marcy was supposed to have security escorts with her since her attack a few days previous.
"They're only for when I leave work," she assured him. "While I'm here, I'm like a phantom."
"No one can find you unless you want to be found, right," Steve remembered as he took a chair next to her. "How's your apartment looking? I can't imagine you still want to live there."
"Nope. It's still a disaster zone covered in police tape. I've been using my mom's old house. She left it to me."
"Oh, I bet that's nicer than an apartment."
"It has its perks. The cat likes the space. More places for him to barf."
Steve chuckled while Marcy went back to her paperwork. The soldier drummed his fingers on the table, trying to think of more small talk. But it really wasn't the small talk he came for. He had hunted her down to ask her something specific. Why couldn't he just get it out and say it?
Come on, Steve, you can do this. Just say the words. Marcy, do you want to go out to dinner? It's not that hard. It's just dinner. You can say it.
"Hey, Marcy, um..."
Her hand was suddenly on his wrist and he looked down at the physical contact. She gripped him harder and Steve's gaze rose to her face. Her eyes were glued to the windows in the hall, body stiff and afraid.
In the hallway, a group of people walked by. They didn't look like agents. If anything, they looked to Steve like a group of suits and scientists. He had a similar entourage present during his transformation when he was injected the super soldier serum.
Whoever they were, Marcy was scared of them, that much was clear. She gripped his wrist blindly until they left. Steve lightly touched her hand on his and she quickly pulled away, looking down at her lap.
"Sorry about that, I didn't mean to," she said in a rattled, embarrassed voice.
You can touch me whenever you want, Steve's mind said silently. Whenever you're scared, I'm here for you.
But even he wasn't brave enough to say it out loud. Instead, he leaned toward her, voice low. "Marcy." He noticed her breathe in a dainty gasp when he used her first name. "Tell me what's wrong."
She opened her mouth to respond. He leaned in further, as if trying to shield her from her fears with his own form. Her lips were now close to his as they parted to speak.
"Agent Gray." One of the suits was at the door, looking at her. "Can you come with us, please?" His tone expressed that it wasn't a mere polite request.
Marcy quickly pulled away from Steve, floundering for a response. "Right now? I have some things I need to do."
"Now, Agent."
A little shaken, Marcy stood and gathered her files. Steve watched her. This wasn't his imagination, she was distressed. Was she in danger of some sort? If she was, couldn't she give him some indication on how to help her? As it was now, Steve didn't know what to do. There were no enemies here, no guns, no alien invaders, no Hydra agents. This man was also with SHIELD, so why was Marcy so scared of him?
As she scooted out the door, Steve stood to follow them. At the very least he felt he should see where they were going with her. But as he existed the room, Clint Barton stood in his way, blocking the path down the hall.
"Hey, what's going on with Agent Gray?" the captain asked. "What do they want with her?"
"Don't worry about it," Clint said, trying to bodily back him up into the conference room and out of sight.
Steve stubbornly held his ground. "They're not going to hurt her or anything are they?"
"No, I'll make sure of it," Clint vowed lowly.
This was not a common workplace conversation and Steve was growing more concerned by the moment. "Where are they taking her? What are they going to-"
Clint shoved an object in his hand- a computer memory stick. "I'll keep an eye on her, I promise. Just go look at that, but not here. Got me?"
Steve looked him in the eye. He was not keen on leaving, but if there was something he needed to know, then Clint was certainly the guy he could trust with Marcy's safety while he was gone.
"Okay. But call me if you need me."
Clint nodded and Steve left with his clandestine information. Whatever it was.
.
Once in the privacy of his own apartment, Steve booted up his laptop and plugged in the memory stick. There were no files to look through, just a video that began playing on its own.
A thin, bookish man with glasses appeared on the screen, seeming to sit in front of a camera. The recording quality suggested this was not a video taken anytime recently.
"This is Dr. Russel A. Dench," the man began in a report-like tone. "The date is March 4, 1981. I am the head supervisor for this project, code A4269 and these are my findings to date.
"In recap, during World War II, there began a scientific race on both sides to alter and perfect enhanced soldiers to aid in the war efforts. Many different tests and experiments were conducted on volunteers and POWs alike, forcing men to endure both physical and chemical alterations. All of which failed, leaving many dead in their wake.
"In 1942, Dr. Abraham Erskine claimed to have perfected a "Super Soldier" serum which would chemically enhance the physical prowess of a man beyond human limits. The experiment took place in August of that same year on a..." the man paused to confer with his notes, "Steven Rogers from Brooklyn, New York, age 24. The experiment proved successful with the test subject resulting in an enhanced physical state instantly. Further tests verified an increase in strength, muscle mass, and endurance. Rogers was also reported to be asthmatic at the time of the experiment, a condition that was immediately cured.
"Erskine's super soldier was a success in every way. Unfortunately, he was assassinated mere seconds after the experiment and the details of the super soldier formula died with him."
The man on screen momentarily fiddled with his notes while Steve sighed. The report had taken him back to that day. He recalled Dr. Erskine dying before his eyes. Only the first of many deaths he had personally witnessed in his lifetime.
"The success of Dr. Erskine's experiment only fueled the race to find the next super soldier serum, even though the war was long over." Dr. Dench continued, "In 1957, Dr. Anton Isaacs completed his own kind of formula, which he dubbed Project Ghost. Whereas the desired result was to give the subject the ability to render themselves invisible."
Dr. Dench's face disappeared from the screen, turning to fuzzy black and white video footage taken from that time period. Dr. Dench voiced over the scene.
"The serum was administered to eight different volunteers, most of which died within the next 48 hours after exposure."
The video showed a man strapped to a table, clearly in severe pain. He looked bloated and sweaty, but then his skin changed. No, not changed, it went transparent, showing all the muscle groups it held underneath. Muscle and bone began to fade, revealing organs and veins. Steve could see the man's heart beating rapidly in the subject's chest. Too rapidly. It raced faster and faster. Steve jerked back when the visible heart burst inside the man's chest, killing him instantly.
"The serum put an impossible strain on the host's body," Dr. Dench's voice intoned, "causing full system arrest and shut down of all major organs. Out of the eight test subjects, only one survived. A man by the name of Daniel Shepherd, age 21. The serum made him violently ill for the next three days, but then he began to recover. Once he had his health back, he was able to render himself invisible at will."
On the screen, a young man in 50's attire suddenly disappeared before Steve's eyes. "Woah!" he yelped in surprise, nearly jumping to his feet. Steve hadn't been expecting that at all.
In the footage, chairs were moved and boxes tipped over seemingly by themselves. Then Dr. Dench's face appeared on screen again.
"Mr. Shepherd was invited into SHIELD after the success of the experiment. He worked as a field agent for nearly 15 years before he was killed in action.
"In the meantime, the ghost formula was still tested on other subjects. But again, none of them survived the transformation process. By then, its creator, Dr. Isaacs, had retired himself from the SHIELD research department. He was found hanged in his room, a suicide note left expressing his regret for so many deaths in the name of his experiment."
Dr. Dench took in a breath and loudly let it out. "Which brings us to today. SHIELD still holds the full Ghost formula after Isaacs' death. Agent Shepherd had a daughter by the name of Claudia Shepherd." Steve leaned forward. That was the name of Marcy's mother. "She has recently turned 21, the same age as her father at the time of his transformation, and asked that we administer the Ghost serum to her.
"After explaining the death rate and all the risks, she still insisted on the procedure. For the record, I was against the experiment, but the board was insistent it be done. The dosage was administered and I am pleased to report that after 48 hours, the subject is stable and recovering quickly.
"These results cause me to speculate that there was something in Mr. Shepherd's genetic code that allowed the serum to properly bond with his DNA. Those traits were passed down to his daughter and, most likely, any offspring she has will also be able to survive the transformation if exposed.
"In the future, I hope to identify the specific 'ghost gene' that makes the experiment successful in the Shepherd lineage. With that information, we will be able to more accurately locate test subjects that will survive the process. I will report further as more information develops."
The video file ended and Steve stared at the black screen for several seconds more. If Marcy had also been exposed to the ghost serum, that explained so much about her. No one can find her if she doesn't want to be found. It also explained why those suits and scientists were looking for her. Steve knew he had to talk to her.
.
"And this is the last one," the man in the white lab coat said, holding up an empty syringe.
"Good," Marcy responded flatly.
"Of course, it would probably be more helpful if you let us take some blood while you were in your transformed state."
Marcy gave him a look that said he was lucky she was being this helpful. She had already allowed them to take hair and nail samples, a mouth swab and a small skin scrape. Her blood was the last thing she was prepared to give them and not a sample more. The man silently filled his last vile of blood and pulled out the needle. A band-aid was pressed to the puncture wound and Marcy was free to go.
She walked out of the lab, rolling her sleeve down over her arm while the suits and the geeks all muttered behind her in low tones. They did not sound happy and Marcy didn't care. As long as they let her walk out of there, she didn't care one bit.
Clint happened to be further down the hall. "Brought you something," he greeted, handing her a box of cookies.
"Sugar and carbs, excellent," Marcy said, shoving a cookie in her mouth. "They seemed intent on draining me dry this time."
Clint fell in step with her, hands in his pockets. "Sorry Tasha and I didn't make it to your party the other night. Sounds like it was interesting."
"To say the least," Marcy snorted. "No doubt it's why the science club dropped by to torment me."
"Yeah, but no worries, I kept an eye on them for you."
Marcy almost laughed at that. "Yeah, no worries. I'm going home for the rest of the day before those guys think of another reason to get me back in that room."
.
Steve didn't return to SHEILD central that day, there was too much to think about. What was he supposed to do with this information? Did Marcy know that he knew? Would she be okay if he tried to talk to her about it?
Steve wandered out on his balcony, letting the hot summer air hit him. He leaned on the rail, gaze trailing off as he considered the possibilities.
"Yo, blondie! Starry-eyed dreamer! Down here!"
Steve was shaken from his thoughts and looked down to see Tony Stark sitting in a black convertible in his parking lot. Bruce Banner was in the passenger seat. Steve didn't feel up to talking to them right now.
"What do you want, Stark?" he asked flatly.
"You didn't happen to get a little piece of classified information lately, did you? About certain top secret government experiments?"
"...maybe."
"We went to visit Agent Gray's apartment and she wasn't there. Everything's still all taped up."
"And?"
"We were wondering if you knew where she's staying?"
Steve frowned. Why didn't they just call him instead of yelling about classified information from his parking lot? "What makes you think I know?"
"Oh, stuff and things," Tony replied, inference in his voice. "Want to go on a little treasure hunt with us?"
Steve sighed and went back inside, closing his balcony door. Moments later he was seen coming down the stairs and approaching the ostentatious car.
"She told me she was staying at her mother's house, but I don't know where that is."
"Easy enough to find out," Tony said, putting on a pair of shades. "Get in, loser. We're going for a visit."
.
With the help of JARVIS and SHIELD's personnel files, the house was easy to find. Tony had the address before they were even on the freeway entrance. The location was a single-level white and tan house located in the suburbs outside the city. Tony had to creep along to avoid running over several people's children playing in the street. He pulled into the driveway, parking next to a black SUV.
The three men got out and walked up the front porch steps, Tony wrapping on the screen door. No answer.
"Not home?" Bruce wondered.
"Maybe she knows you're coming," Steve said to Tony.
"Ha, ha."
Across the street, a generic gray car was parked. Bruce glanced at it, noticing two men sitting inside.
"Well, her security detail is here," he said. "She can't be too far away. I could go ask them where she is."
"Where's the fun in that?" Tony countered, looking like he was considering climbing over the fence into the backyard.
Steve glanced up and down the sidewalk and noticed a feminine figure coming up the sidewalk toward the house.
"Maybe that's her."
Tony squinted as the form moved quickly toward them, not running, but rollerskating. The woman paused in the driveway, watching them.
"Dear sweet mother of God," Tony breathed.
Agent Gray's hair was in low pig tails. She wore a pink T-shirt with a pair of itty bitty black bike shorts. A white pair of retro style roller skates with red wheels finished up the look.
"What are you guys doing here?" she asked.
"Why are you wearing my fetish?" Tony countered, continuing to take her in from head to toe.
"I like to skate when I need to think," she insisted. "It's good for the thigh muscles. Now if you would explain what you're- did you just take a picture of me with your phone?"
Tony quickly shoved his cell phone back in his pocket. "I can't help it, girls on roller skates make the spider senses tingle in my pants."
"Gross." Marcy moved past them to the front door. She happened to notice Steve was also eyeing her appearance, though more subtly. "If you promise to behave yourselves you can come in."
Across the street, the two SHIELD agents in the car watched them all go inside the house.
"Captain America, Iron Man and the Hulk are now with this agent," the first man said. "Do we even need to be here?"
"Gotta stay unless we get ordered otherwise," the other man responded. "At least if something happens, we can let them do all the work."
.
Marcy left the three of them in the living room before rolling down the hall to the back bedroom where she slipped off her skates and put on a pair of jeans. She returned only to slide into the kitchen.
"Anyone thirsty? I have strawberry lemonade or water."
"Water," Steve said.
"I'll try that lemonade," said Bruce.
"Can I borrow those skates while Pepper's in town?" Tony asked. "What shoe size are you?"
"Could you stop playing around for a second?" Steve hissed at him. "Show a little respect."
"I respected the hell out of that outfit," Tony shot back. "She can wear that again anytime."
Steve's hand actually balled into a fist, but the two suddenly sat at attention when Marcy entered the living room with glasses for everyone. Bruce and Tony were occupying the single chairs so the only open seat was next to Steve on the couch.
"So," Marcy announced as she sat, "what do you guys want?"
Steve dug into his pocket and tossed the memory stick onto her coffee table.
Marcy watched it for a moment. "Despite what you may have heard, I cannot just know what is on a storage device by looking at it."
"It contains information about Project Ghost," Tony said. "And about the only two people who survived the process. People, I'm sure you know."
Marcy leaned back in the couch, still staring at the small drive. "I see."
"So the only question is," Tony continued, "did you decide to become survivor number three?"
"I never took the serum," Marcy said with a sigh in her voice. "I didn't have to. My mother and grandfather both had it in their systems. The abilities were naturally passed down to me."
Steve looked her up and down, as if seeing her for the first time. "So you can..."
"Turn invisible?" Marcy finished. "Yup."
The room went quiet as the obvious question hung in the air. Steve and Tony were locked in some sort of staring contest, daring the other to speak first.
"Can we... see it?" Bruce asked quietly, his scientist's curiosity getting the better of him.
And just like that, Marcy was no longer before their eyes.
Bruce jumped to his feet, excited like a child at Christmas. Even Tony was taken aback at the sudden display. The cushions next to Steve were still indented where the woman sat. He carefully reached over to see if he could touch her, but she was suddenly visible again and he pulled back.
"See? No big deal," Marcy insisted.
"I beg to differ," Bruce breathed. "That's truly amazing."
"I want to see it again," Tony said.
"Ditto," Bruce agreed. "Can you do it slower?"
Marcy breathed out loudly through her teeth. "Okay," she said, standing up. "But this is the last time."
She shook out her muscles as if getting ready to sprint, then let out a slow breath. Delaying the process took a bit more concentration. Slowly, she began to grow transparent, like a ghost in a photo. Steve gaped up at her and she met his gaze, blinked slowly, and then dissipated from view.
"So cool," Bruce breathed out.
"Except we still know you're there," Tony said. "Being invisible isn't enough to completely disappear, right? People still have a feeling that they're not alone when you're around."
He reached out to where he thought her wrist was, but only caught air.
"I'm over here," Marcy said, suddenly appearing by the kitchen. "I've had plenty of time perfecting the art of complete invisibility. Yes, Mr. Stark, like a ninja," she added when he opened his mouth.
"Well," Tony said instead, "that explains why I found a file on you with the Avengers Initiative project."
"Then why weren't you pulled in when we were hunting Loki?" Steve asked. "We probably could have used your help."
"Excellent question," Tony agreed. "What was your call sign again?"
"Fade," she said. "They call me Fade. And no, I'm not an Avenger. I was a candidate for the initiative, but I was never inducted. My condition has... complications. Too many to be useful."
"Like the DNR?" Steve asked with a frown.
"In a way, yes. The DNR was put in place because of certain conditions." Marcy strolled over and took her seat back on the couch. She drummed her fingers on her knee as she gathered her thoughts. "Let's see, where to start with this. The Ghost serum is not kind to its host. Even though my grandfather survived the transformation, it was hard on his body. He had nosebleeds and headaches on the regular and heart palpitations and small seizures and things like that as he grew older.
"My mother fared better. She had fairly good health, but then her body just went into total system failure, just like all the others who died from the Ghost serum. We don't know if Grandad's death would have happened the same way, he was killed in the field."
"And what about you?" Bruce asked, completely fascinated. "How's... your health?"
"Normal so far. " She breathed out as if it were a relief to say. "I often had bad nosebleeds as a kid, but so far that's the worst of it. It probably has to do with the fact I was born with it. Also, for Mom and Grandad, going invisible was physically taxing for them. My mom said it was like holding her breath. The longer she did it, the harder it was to hold it. I don't have that problem.
"My problem is I change too easily. If I'm startled I'll sometimes fade without meaning to, as a defense mechanism. Or if I'm hurt, I'll reflexively go invisible unless I'm really trying not to. If I'm knocked unconscious I'll also fade. That's the reason for the DNR. If I'm in the field, knocked out somewhere, chances are a rescue team is going to risk themselves for something they can't see or find. It's not worth their lives."
The room went silent and Marcy drummed her fingers on her knees again. "That's... all I've got."
"No, it isn't," Steve reminded. "You were still attacked in your apartment, what was that about?"
"Oh, that. The working theory is someone, possibly Hydra, was trying to get a hold of my blood. It's hypothesized on our team as well that my DNA holds the key to perfecting a serum that won't instantly kill the host."
"So those guys that were at SHIELD today?"
"They wanted blood, too. They usually show up to gather more DNA samples every year or so."
"And that's all they did?" Steve pressed.
"Yup, that's all."
His hand fell on her nervous fingers, stilling them on her knee. "You were scared of them," he reminded gently.
Marcy looked away, then back at him. Then up and down and every which way, trying to hide her embarrassment. She wanted to yank her hand away from his, she felt trapped sitting there under the gaze of the three men. It was not easy for her to admit her fears.
"Each year they propose to run certain tests on my condition. They want to treat me like a lab rat, test my limits, poke and prod at me. Cut pieces of me out for experiments. Each year I tell them no. And each time they are more insistent. Every time they come, I wonder if this is the time where I won't have the option of saying no."
That was why Clint said he would keep an eye on her.
Steve squeezed her hand. "No one here is going to let them do anything to you that you don't want, I promise."
Marcy felt so silly right then. Like a little girl being told she was safe from the imaginary monsters in the closet. She tried to laugh it off to get them all to stop looking at her that way. To get Steve to stop holding her hand and watching her with his beautiful eyes and that concerned brow.
Her laugh, however, instantly turned into the sound of a sob and she covered her mouth with her free hand. She wanted to disappear again in front of them now. She didn't want them to see her break down.
"I'm fine," she insisted, fighting to compose herself. "Really, I'm fine."
Steve rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. "Marcy," he said gently.
His voice, speaking her name in that whisper, broke her and Steve realized he had never seen her cry before. Not when she was standing at Sam's door, bloody, wide-eyed and shivering. Not at her mother's funeral. Everything was crashing now and the dam was too broken to stop it.
As much as she tried to stop it, a sob broke out of her. Steve didn't even think as he pulled her in. Marcy pushed against his hard chest, insisting through her tears she was fine. He was silent, patient, his arms unmovable. Finally she gave up, spending her energy trying to control the sobs instead as Steve tucked her head under his chin.
This was mortifying. Marcy was not in the habit of letting people see her cry. Especially those she greatly looked up to and respected. Just a few breaths and she regained control of herself. She sat still and silent until Steve released her. As much as she wanted to relish this once in a lifetime opportunity of having Steve's arms around her, her pride would not allow his sympathy. Once free, she pulled back and quickly wiped her eyes.
"Sorry about that. I guess it's been a rough week. I didn't realize everything had hit me so hard."
"I don't mind, really I don't." he replied earnestly, hands resting on his knees. His chest hurt at seeing Agent Gray cry. For some reason, it hurt even more that she was trying to school herself in front of him, trying to block him from her fears and emotions.
They were the only two people in the house now. Bruce and Tony seemed to have left at some point.
"I'm glad you guys know about everything now," Marcy admitted. "It feels good. I'm not allowed to tell people what I can do unless they have clearance. My abilities aren't even in any of SHIELD's most secret personnel files." There was a moment of silence and then she added, "You seemed know know that something was up. I was kind of impressed any time you caught me for making myself scarce. I hated not being able to explain it to you. It felt like I was lying to your face."
Part of his mouth ticked up in a smile. "I understand why you couldn't tell me then, but I'm glad I know now. I like knowing more about you."
Their gaze met and, as usual, Marcy had to look away, her cheeks hot.
.
Outside the house, Tony and Bruce waited on the porch. Bruce especially was enjoying the rural scenery of quaint little houses all in a row, the sound of a lawnmower somewhere in the distance. Children played in the street, unconcerned when a car inched by along the narrow, single-lane road. He envied all who lived here with everyday lives. One day he would like to have something like this; something normal.
"They're cute together, don't you think?" Tony suddenly said.
"Sure, I guess," Bruce said, glancing back at the house. He didn't like seeing Agent Gray cry. He had seen too many tears from his own Betty already and he never grew used to a woman's pain. He never knew how to handle it. Steve was probably better at that kind of thing.
Then he glanced at Tony who was fiddling with his phone. "Are you looking at that picture of Marcy again?"
"Maybe."
Bruce paused. "Let me see it."
"What?" Tony snorted. "Get your own picture."
"Just once, just let me see it," Bruce insisted. He tried to grab the phone as Tony held it away, his hand on Bruce's face as he reached for it.
Across the street, the two men in the gray car watched the scene as a slap flight between Iron Man and the Hulk broke out in the yard.
"Best security detail ever," one of them said with a grin.
.
The next day, Steve knocked on the closed door of Marcy's office before opening it. Seemingly very engrossed in the files on her computer, she looked up with a start, as if surprised anyone would bother her.
"Hey," he greeted.
"Captain Rogers." Her surprise did not quit as she blinked wildly at him, as if he were a fantasy unexpectedly summoned to life at her door.
"I thought I'd just check on you to see how you're feeling."
She paused and then carefully stated. "Very well, Captain, thank you for asking."
The tone was so professional, so formal. After the day before, after holding her while she cried, Steve thought he deserved better than that. Maybe she was still embarrassed about the whole thing. Maybe he shouldn't mention it for a while. After all, that wasn't the reason he searched her out and he had been building up the confidence to talk to her all day. He just wanted to hurry and get it out before he lost his nerve.
"Hey, listen, I was just wondering if you had any plans this evening."
"No," she said guardedly. "I don't think so."
"Then how about going to get dinner with me? It doesn't have to be anything nice. Or, it can be nice, if you want." There, he said it. He had finally managed to ask her.
Marcy tipped her head at him as if studying a unique specimen. He could almost see the wheels in her head turning and he held his breath for her answer.
"Are we considering this a... date?" Marcy asked carefully.
Steve let out a chuckle to help calm his own nerves. "You can if you'd like."
She broke out into a smile, something Steve thought he would love to see. But this smile, something was wrong with this smile. He couldn't say why, but warning bells went off in his head.
"Yes, Captain, I would love to. Could you pick me up around 7 so I have time to change?"
Her agreement made any concern fly out the window and he grinned.
"Great, I'll see you then. I'm looking forward to it."
As Steve turned to leave, he was surprised with just how much his heart pounded and how much he really was looking forward to that evening.
.
The day dragged on impossibly slow for Steve. And then, 7 came far too fast. He had borrowed an actual car from SHIELD, something that wasn't a black SUV, to pick up his date. Regrettably, he arrived a little later than he had wanted to as he pulled up to the driveway.
Getting out, Steve waved across the street to Marcy's security detail. Maybe they wouldn't follow if she was with him for the night. At least that was what he hoped. He rang the doorbell, heart still fluttering. He had never taken a girl out on a one-on-one date before and he was admittedly quite excited and scared at the same time.
Marcy opened the door, pushing out the screen door to let him in.
"Captain," she greeted. "Please come in."
"Sorry I'm late," he said as he stepped inside.
"Nonsense, I was still getting ready myself," she responded.
Steve looked her over. Her hair was worn down, brown tendrils curling around her shoulders. She wore a small, black top with a low neck and a short flowered skirt that showed off her legs. Dangling earrings and several bracelets completed the outfit. She looked beautiful and radiant.
Something is wrong, whispered a voice in the back of his head.
"You look very nice," he said.
"Thank you, Captain," Marcy grinned, obviously flattered. She purposefully turned in a circle to let him get an eye-full of her at every angle. That act seemed a little unlike her. Marcy had always been so uncomfortable when people looked at her. Especially when he looked at her, her face would always be so bright red.
Something is wrong.
"Just one moment, let me grab my purse," Marcy said as she disappeared down the hall.
Since when did Marcy own a purse?
A questioning feline sound caught Steve's attention. He saw Marcy's cat crouched under a chair, tail swishing in agitation. The cat's eyes were wide, pupils dilated, ears pressed back to his skull. He stared down the hall where his owner had gone.
Something is wrong!
"Okay, now I'm ready," Marcy announced as she came back in. She flirtatiously lifted a leg to fiddle with the strap of the delicate white sandals she wore.
Steve stared hard at her toes. There was no nail polish on them, pink or otherwise.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"What?" the woman asked blankly.
"You're not Agent Gray. Where is she?"
The woman's eyes widened with horror and she suddenly reached into her purse. Steve was too fast. He knocked the gun from her hand before she could pull it out. Desperate, the woman kicked at him, the heel of her shoe nearly slicing his cheek. A second kick flew at him and Steve grabbed her by the ankle, twisting.
With a pained cry, the woman flipped, landing to the floor on her face. Steve was instantly on top of her, bending one arm behind her back, knee between her shoulder blades.
"Now," he hissed. "You tell me! Where is Agent Gray?"
.
Marcy moaned a she came into consciousness. Her mind felt sluggish, head on fire and she concluded she had been drugged. She could not remember the entire day. Did she even make it to work? No, she was at home, she concluded. That, she could remember. It was morning, she was getting ready for work. The racing of her heart at the recollection reminded her she was attacked at home. By who or how was still a blur. All she knew was that she wasn't at home now, or was she at SHIELD HQ.
Wherever she was, it was dark and cold. It smelled sterile of chemicals and cold metal. Like a laboratory, or a morgue. The unpleasant ache of chilled metal pressed against her bare back. She tried to move away from the uncomfortable cold only to find her ankles and wrists were shackled to the table. The alarm she felt helped chase away the cloudiness in her head. While she was out, someone had taken her clothes, leaving her in just a bra and panties.
As she struggled to get free, a bright light flipped on above her, giving her the gut-wrenching feeling that she was like a bug under a magnifying glass. She squinted at the glaring light, trying to see what was around her.
She became aware of a form approaching, looming over her.
"Hello, Agent Gray," an unfamiliar voice said to her. "Welcome to my laboratory."