Author's Note: I apologize for not updating sooner. Life has been...well, a lot of things have happened since I last updated. I hope those of you who still are following THW still enjoy this! Thank you!
It is completely dark except for a single fluorescent bulb hanging on a wire above my body. I know this place. I have been here before. I tug at my arms and legs, only to find that they are somehow attached to the cold, metal table my naked body is lying upon. At vital places on my skin, my heart, lungs, temples, and joints, are electrodes, all attached with colored wires to a white box with many dials on it. "Hello?" I call out. No response. I start shuddering, violent spasms of fear taking over. Sweat beads in tiny pools at my hairline. Then, a single hand reaches over to the white box, clicks a dial three times to the right, and suddenly, I am on fire.
"Tate. Tate, wake up. We're here." Bruce's voice broke through my nightmare. My eyes shot open, tiny dots still clouding my vision. I blinked once, and his look of concern washed over me. "What's wrong?" How was it so clear to him that something is wrong? I glance over my body, which has been covered in a thick, black blanket made out of something expensive. My skin is still tingling slightly from the flashback.
"Nightmare," I murmured, knowing lying wouldn't work on this man. He had obviously seen too many lies: patients, downsizing their pain and problems. I was a good liar, too. How else had I gotten out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clutches? Trying to distract myself, I looked out the car window. We were in a parking garage, where cement walls made me feel claustrophobic and buzzing fluorescent bulbs are the only source of light. It reminded me of my nightmare. I shiver, pulling the blanket closer around me.
While I was staring, Bruce had opened the car door, where a wheelchair was waiting. I sighed. "Bruce, I don't need that. I'm not a cripple." He frowned his usual frown, the one where the squiggly line appeared in his forehead. A doctor's frown.
"Well, if you want to carry that thing, that's fine by me." Bruce shrugged, nodding towards the green oxygen tank on the floor of the car. I scowled at it. Of course he'd find some way to get me into the chair. Still scowling, I lifted myself up – surprised at how weak I truly felt – and sat back down in the wheelchair. Bruce attached the IV bag to one hook and the oxygen take to the other.
It was then that it truly hit me how screwed over I was. I was relying on a chair and another human being on my survival. The bag of medicine and container of oxygen was keeping me alive. I could no longer support myself – and it was the most debilitating feeling I had ever experienced.
"Hey, hey, don't – don't cry, Tate." Bruce knelt down in front of me. I hadn't even realized I was crying until I felt the droplets on my white hands. "Everything is going to be fine." It sounded more like he was reassuring himself rather than me.
"I – I'm sorry. I don't – I don't ever cry, really," I sniffled, frowning at how pitiful I sounded. Bruce must have thought I was crying because of pain, because he suddenly dismissed the driver and was quickly wheeling me toward the nearest elevator.
Inside, I noticed we were two floors below ground level. Bruce pressed the button for the fortieth floor. There were fifty-five floors in all. "You said this was…what tower?" I turned around so I could see the man's face. He immediately looked uncomfortable.
"Well, I didn't. It's the Avengers Tower. A group of extraordinary people live here, and, well, I happen to be one of them."
"Avengers as in…The Avengers Initiative? You…you're part of The Avengers Initiative?"
"You know about it?"
"I heard it through the grapevine when I was in India." I shrugged. "I don't really know anything about it, per se, but I know it had something to do with the incident here in New York last year. Anyways, how do you live here? You were in Calcutta," I pointed out.
"I…left." Bruce coughed once, indicating that the conversation was over. For now.
A sudden thought occurred to me. "Wait a second." We were rapidly approaching the fortieth floor. "You said you were going to keep me safe from S.H.I.E.L.D. Isn't The Avengers Initiative run by S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"Yes, but –"
"You're turning me in," I realized. It made perfect sense. Bruce, a kind-hearted doctor offering his welfare to a wanted escapee, only to bring her back to America, not for medicine, but for…what? A reward?
"I'm not! Tate. Listen to me. I don't want to be associated with S.H.I.E.L.D. Honestly, I don't think any of the Avengers do. S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't in charge of us anymore. We're…separate. Trust me." Bruce was rushing to get his words out, as if to prevent me from jumping to conclusions.
Somehow, I trusted this man. I couldn't explain why, but I did. I nodded once, just as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a long, wide hallway going either direction. The walls to the large rooms were clear, and inside was a plethora of robotics and technology like I had never seen before. Stainless steel accented every surface.
Bruce wheeled me down the corridor, past several empty workshops until I heard what sounded like shredding metal. I cringed as the sound resonated in my ears and made my head pound. We stopped outside a room that was the exact opposite of the others. Instead of the normal neatness, scraps of metal, toolboxes, and papers were scattered randomly on the floor. Hard rock music was blasting from several surround-sound speakers. A man with his back turned was standing over the source of the shredding sound, a machine of some sort, where sparks were flying. I recognized the song as Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple.
Bruce glanced at me with a nervous look on his face. I stared back, puzzled, before he tapped in a code on the workshop door and slipped inside. "Wait here," He instructed, closing the door behind him. I could just barely make out the conversation taking place inside.
"Sir, you have a visitor." The first voice I did not recognize and could not find the source of. However, it sounded like a man with an English accent.
"Not now, J.A.R.V.I.S., unless it's Fury –" The man with his back turned sounded irritated, but was cut off by Bruce.
"Tony." It only took this word to make the man called Tony whirl around. I immediately recognized him – hair, facial hair. It was the one and only Tony Stark. I was only becoming more and more confused. How did Bruce have connections to Tony Stark? There was only one conclusion: Tony Stark, the infamous Iron Man, was part of the Avenger's Initiative. I vaguely remembered him being turned down for the program, which only added to my confusion. I figured being in India for several years wasn't the best way to keep up on current events in America.
"Bruce…? I thought you were in Calcutta!" Tony's face broke out in a grin, and the two exchanged a handshake. They're friends. "How long has it been? Six months already?"
"Yeah, I was. I guess I'm back now." I couldn't see Bruce's face, but I knew he was glad to see his friend again.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be off studying the mystic ways of witch doctors or something?" Tony sounded severely sarcastic, and I briefly wondered if he was as arrogant as the tabloids said he was.
"I was, I…was. I have a favor to ask you. I was wondering if I could use your facilities here."
"It's not mine, it's ours, remember? Why didn't you call me up? What do you need the labs for? New project?"
"Um…a patient, actually." At this point, Bruce turned and looked at me. Tony followed his gaze, and his jaw dropped. I couldn't help but feel self-conscious. I glanced downwards.
"You brought a patient from Calcutta here? Why here? She doesn't look Indian, you know, she's actually rather pale –"
"That's not the point. Point is…" Bruce lowered his voice and leaned in close to Tony. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I had no doubt that he was talking about me, most likely how he knew about my connections to S.H.I.E.L.D. among other things.
Tony's face became serious, the smile fading from his face. I caught a couple of last words from Bruce. "She's dying, Tony." My heart thudded in the next few seconds of silence. Finally, Tony spoke.
"Do whatever you have to, Bruce. I'll do what I can to help." Tony clapped a hand on Bruce's back, and the two began approaching me. I shrunk down into myself as much as possible.
"Tate, short for Tatianah, I presume? You should have kept the latter name. Much sexier. Maybe a bit too porno, for you, though…" Tony began, but trailed off as I gave him a death stare. I didn't like this in the slightest, but had no choice. I certainly couldn't run now.
"Yes. Tate. And you're the ignorant dick who owns the place, I presume?" I snapped, though the words didn't have much anger to them due to my severe fatigue.
Tony laughed. It wasn't mocking or snobby, it was a real laugh. I relaxed a bit. "I like her already."
Bruce seemed to force a smile. Obviously, he was the only one who realized how serious the situation really was. "Tate, Tony is letting us use one of his labs. You'll stay here, with the rest of us."
Rest of us? I didn't like the sound of that. I nodded, at a loss for words. I couldn't wonder who else lived at the tower for long, though, for fatigue overcame me and I began to nod off once again.