DISCLAIMER: The characters are not mine, they belong to marvel. I am only playing with them and forcing them to do my will.
3 years later, somewhere near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
The clock alarm rang, as it did every morning at 10:30. Mumbling something or other under her breath, she rolled out of bed and trudged to the shower. As she dried her hair, she noticed that her roots were growing in. She made a mental note to get an appointment at the salon. She'd have to do that soon, or her natural hair would start to stand out. Standing out was the last thing she wanted to do. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, she headed towards the kitchen. On her way there, she noticed the blinking red light of the answering machine.
"Hello... Anna Marie, it's Doug. We're going to need you to work tonight's 8:30 show. See you at 7."
She sighed. Just her luck. Her day off, and someone calls in sick. She was really starting to get tired of the job. She had worked at the concert hall for close to a year, first as a stagehand then on the security team. The money was good, but she just couldn't stand the work. She couldn't count the times that she'd had to hold back teenage girls, eager to touch Justin Timberlake or some equally untalented "artist". She angrily erased the message and walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Opening the canister, she realized that she was out. The refrigerator was equally empty.
"Damnit!" She slammed the door closed, causing the bulky appliance to knock backwards against the apartment wall. Moments later, a knock came at the apartment door.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin. It won't happen again." Her neighbor was excessively sensitive to any noise. That, combined with her late-night job, made living next to the woman less than wonderful.
Instead of the usual "hmmph" that came after the customary apology, a man's voice came from the other side of the door.
"Uh, I have a delivery for a Ms. A.M. Darkholme?" The voice sounded oddly familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She walked to the door and opened it a crack.
"How did you get in here? All packages are supposed to be left downstairs."
"No one was there... I thought I'd bring it up myself."
The man held out his hands, and in them sat the smallest, most detailed ice sculpture Anna Marie had ever seen. He looked up with a grin, which quickly faded as he realized that he did not recognize the dark-haired person who stood on the other side of the door, staring at him through a pair of glasses. Realizing also that the woman who stood before him did not speak with an accent, he quickly blushed and pocketed the small statue.
"Um... Sorry to disturb you... wrong 'Darkholme'..."
He turned abruptly and headed towards the elevator. Anna Marie watched from her doorway, and, just as he was about to step into the elevator, she spoke.
"Bobby... you want to come in?'