Chapter Two: Take Control
"I must become a lion hearted girl,
Ready for a fight
Before I make the final sacrifice."
Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up), Florence + the Machine
.oHOPEo.
"I'm not going to screw this up," Anna whispered fiercely. She clenched her fist at her side. "I've waited too long and come too far to fail now."
The young woman kept watch shrewdly from a thicket of bushes beside Stark Tower, waiting for the limo to pull up with its load of crisply dressed businessmen.
A chilling, late autumnal breeze whispered in her ear, telling of change and the frosty winter days to come. The gust attempted to mercilessly assail her bare legs. She straightened her navy pencil skirt, indifferent to the cold.
…Any moment now...
A sleek black limo rumbled to a stop in front of the building. Anna stood ramrod straight, fixing a stray strand that had worked its way out of her tight, severe bun. She smirked grimly, settling the fluttering butterflies in the pit of her stomach determinedly.
Integrate, her voice of reason reminded, no one will question you if you act like you belong. Don't draw attention. Just act like you belong.
Integrate.
Easy.
No need to be nervous.
A group of businessmen, dressed to the nines, filed out of the limo like a row of ducklings. Anna waited apprehensively before finally darting out of the shrubbery. She tagged on to the end of their group unnoticed and clutched her prop clipboard close to her chest.
A smirk had to be hidden as she realized that she had successfully infiltrated the building.
As she followed the men inside, she was glad for the self-adhering felt pads she had hastily stuck to the bottoms of her stilettos -making very little noise was pertinent if she was to continue with her escapade.
The group snaked through the lobby, tangling expertly through the small cliques of people. Anna hardly struggled in keeping up; her movements were calculated with grace and agility. But even her careful maneuvering couldn't prevent others' stupidity.
"Sorry," the infiltrator snapped gruffly, though it was no fault of hers that the redheaded woman had gotten in her way. Before the woman could respond, Anna pushed past her roughly, catching up to the group right as they entered the elevator.
That delay almost cost me my chance, she seethed. She mentally threw daggers at the ginger in nondescript clothes. The woman had been joined by a dark haired man with keen, watchful eyes. As the elevator doors slid shut, Anna watched as the two exchanged a whispered conversation. Then the silver doors had shut, and when they opened again, it was the eighth floor and a fresh start.
.oHOPEo.
Please let him be here, she mentally begged, please.
The conference had been running smoothly for twenty minutes, and there was still no sign of Tony Stark. Where on earth was he? If he didn't arrive, her efforts were for naught.
The doorknob jiggled without warning, interrupting a verbose speech on the economic benefits of selling energy. Tony Stark, clad in dark sunglasses and a rumpled suit, sashayed inside. Anna released a breath that she had been holding and leaned against the wall behind her.
"Well, don't stop on my account," Tony said, waving a hand dismissively. He took a seat at the table. "Please, continue putting everyone to sleep."
.oHOPEo.
"Mr. Stark." Anna took hold of his arm firmly, flashing a wide, appealing smile. "A word about the Avengers, if you please."
Behind the sunglasses, he looked her up and down suspiciously. "No comment."
Her hand on his arm became a restraint, and her grin forced. "I'm not a reporter. And I insist."
After a moment of contemplation, the older man appeared to give in, and allowed the other executives to flow past him. He shut the door behind them.
Anna pranced to the end of the table, shimmying out of her blazer to reveal a sleeveless, silken, and very tight blouse. She plopped down in one of the chairs, and frowned. "These aren't as comfortable as I would've imagined a millionaire's chairs would be. Are you truly as rich as they say?"
"Well, let's see." His tone was dry. "My pool is filled with hundred dollar bills, and -"
She cut him off. "As I said, I'm here about the Avengers, not to discuss your disgusting amount of money."
"Jarvis, if you could send a few friends," he muttered, then addressed his unwanted guest. "What about the Avengers?"
The young woman lounged in the chair, propping her stiletto-ed feet up on the table. "I want in."
"Sorry, the Avengers group is not an equal opportunity provider. We don't let just anyone sign up."
She cocked a brow as an array of people entered the room; a man with tired, troubled eyes, glasses, and dark curls; a brunet boy who couldn't be older than twenty; and the redhead and watchful man from the lobby.
"Calling in for reinforcements?" Anna asked innocently, crossing her arms. "I didn't realize that I was such a concern."
"Who is this, Tony?" the redhead hedged in a cautious manner.
"My name is Anastasia, and I'm hoping to be an Avenger. But Mr. Stark seems to have a little too much iron in his brain, because I'm getting nowhere."
"Our team is big enough," interjected the vigilant man bluntly. "We don't need you."
"Don't need, or don't want, Hawkeye? That is you, right? You live up to your namesake. I feel like your eyes could cut through me." Anna shuddered mockingly. "I'm useful. I want to help. Isn't that enough, Birdbrain?"
Natasha stepped forward, her hand on her gun. "We're going to have to ask you to – "
Anna sprung up suddenly, leaping atop the table. A knife was drawn from a sheath beneath her skirt and, before any of the Avengers could react, she slashed the blade across her palm. Anna held it out towards the group in front of her, blood dribbling from her hand and splattering on the table.
"That is mahogany," Tony muttered darkly, watching crimson crawl across his polished tabletop.
Bruce was the first one to notice, and he sucked in a shocked breath. "Your hand."
"My hand," Anna affirmed, smug.
The severed skin was knitting itself together, as though an invisible force was sewing the laceration shut. A slim, puckered white scar remained as evidence.
"I can do other things, too." The young woman's attention seemed divided as she peered out the window. "I have exceptional hearing. All my other senses are fantastic. I could track someone's scent through a crowded room. I can hear higher frequencies. I have better vision than even you, Birdbrain. And, I'm a boss when it comes to singing." She turned from the window, smirking, and gazed at each one of them in turn. "But I won't bother you. I'll give you all some time to consider my offer. Until then…" She jumped down from the table. "Toodle-oo."
Moving entirely too fast again, she propelled her body through the nearest window, sending glass flying like shards of painfully sharp confetti.
Natasha dashed to the opening, the others hot on her tail, and watched as Anna flipped through the air and landed nimbly on her feet, bounded into the street, and hailed an oncoming cab. Before climbing inside, she shot a small salute their way.
Then she was gone, with shocked witnesses as the only testaments to her presence.
"That was an eighty foot drop, at least," Natasha fretted. "Nobody could've survived a fall that far. That should've killed her."
"Apparently not, since she's off on her merry way." Tony turned away from the shattered window. It's always my house that gets a beating.
"She left a business card." Peter lifted a pink and white card emblazoned with the title "LENNY'S DINER" and an address. Scrawled in tidy red ink were the words:
Nine 'o clock tomorrow –don't leave me hanging!