First chapters, I believe, are kind of the hardest things to start with because of how we really want to convey something vs how we type it once its posted up on the screen. I know I'm not the only one who thinks, 'damn, that's not exactly how I was trying to tell the story'. Sorry, first chapters are hard and I just wanted to say that any author who thinks this way is not alone. Moving on, I hoped people liked it, despite how confusing it was. It's pretty funny that I didn't even come up with a name for the OC protagonist after I had posted the first chapter. At first, I wanted the name to be unique (nothing like Raven, Shadow, Reaper, Vixen, Silver Fox, those names are seriously overrated and cliche AF), so I went through the internet by looking up names. I found a couple names but I decided to save those for other stories because they didn't seem appropriate with this protagonist.
Thank you internet for your ever helpful vast information in helping me come up with a valuable name that was somewhat unique, old, and very appropriate for my OC. Enjoy the next chapter, it will still have some vagueness to it but all will be answered as you read along!
Disclaimer: MCU belongs to Disney and Marvel Studios/Comics, I only claim ownership over my Original Character(s) and a little bit of the plot!
Warning: Language, Violence, Adult Content, possible Triggers (there will be heads-up for these things), and whatever comes to mind.
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ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴀ sρïdєя-ωσмαη
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SIX MONTHS LATER
Being behind a cash register was familiar and comfortable enough for me to feel a sense of calm and purpose. I had enough practice of it when I had worked as a local grocer during my earlier youth when there was no after school practice in the gym.
Still, even as my fingers tapped away to charge another disgruntled-looking customer who wanted to make quick haste back in their hole of a home, I couldn't feel quite relaxed when the television screen that hung overhead blared breaking news. Normally, news didn't bother with me much, only when it came to distant concerns about the horrible things that always happened with mad men going on a murder spree by attacking crowded places, a terrorist group making threats to bomb people or places, or even about the ridiculousness of politics and their scandals... but the sort of news that was displayed was the kind that made me honestly sick to the stomach.
I glared at the cash register, desperately trying to ignore the faint voices of the anchormen and women as they had kept repeating the phrase like a broken record.
And if I acknowledged it? What then? Who would want to hear what I wanted to say? Who would take my words and consider them truth? That's right; nobody would listen. I would either sound like a complete and utter lunatic, a conspiracy theorist... but worst of all, should someone actually listen to me, they would most likely conclude that I was probably an accomplice to what had happened.
But it was hard. I didn't want to believe it because seeing it meant that everything, from the horrifying past to the dreadful present since my arrival, was actually true.
Walking out of McDonald's with my happy meal and milkshake, prepared to return to my shared apartment with my brother to wave my junk food in a condescending manner, and ready for the big day of the next morrow, and then suddenly ripped out my existence only to end up somewhere not home. It was like a huge black out happened—then everything became bright without warning.
The world exploded into liquid fire made up entirely of bright blue, swimming across my vision as my body was yanked through it like a rag doll. I couldn't scream, either afraid of accidentally swallowing my tongue or too busy watching myself fly by the universe, going through colorful gas clouds that whirled away when I blew through, galaxies from far away illuminated like spiraling disks, and several nebula's spread out with a color splash to paint the vastness of space.
Finally, the light show came to an end.
(IwantedtoseemoreIwantedtoseethestarsagain)
The first clear memory of when I had awoken was when everything smelled like days old water left alone for too long, something of which my brother had done multiple times when he didn't clean his bathroom for months.
After that, things got weird... then unsettling, and eventually terrifying that I still felt every cell in my body turn cold from the memories.
It was by strange circumstances, unanticipated chances, and dumb luck that I found myself living a seemingly semi-normal life working behind a cash register while living in a dump of an apartment. Those were some of my first trying times, times where I had broken down and cried before a neighbor banged the walls with demands that I shut up, times where I had to hold myself back from approaching a policeman to ask for help because God only knew this would be a tip off to my pursuers that would be more than happy to drag me back to their hellhole I had barely escaped from.
Somehow, I managed it.
Being in another country was a little difficult, but thankfully it was in a language not so hard to learn from given that I had taken previous lessons of it back in my high school classes. I integrated with the crowd after the language barrier became more manageable for me, and I was lucky enough to come across a small handful of people who were willing to give me a chance and hire me for a couple of jobs that would meet to their satisfaction.
I would be a custodian who cleaned up a small stadium after amateur bull fights occurred, I would wash dishes and silverware (I hated the stains that most restaurants overlooked and wanted to spare customers the same fate), I would babysit rowdy children to keep them from bothering their temperamental and overworked parents, and I would sometimes work in a grocery store.
With the money I had to slowly accumulated from the past few weeks, I was well off with sheltering and feeding myself. Given that my social life was non-existent and my body was thrumming with energy, I was barely tired and there was rarely ever a need to spend my money on unnecessary things outside of food and clothes. Sure, I was still paranoid as hell, and I was constantly looking over my shoulder to find faces that didn't belong in the city I ended up in, but I was managing it.
My parents would have been proud.
Now, I thought as my eyes helplessly flickered towards the television screen that caught most of the world's attention, I was trying so hard not to send myself into a hysterical panic attack at what had been haunting me for the past few weeks.
Tony Stark missing in Afghanistan
First time I saw it as I was passing a news stand, I had stopped and gawked at the colorful picture of Robert Downey Jr. looking debauched with several leggy blonds attached to each of his arms.
The first thing that ran through my mind was, 'Are those new Infinity War screenshots of Iron Man?'
That sort of thinking quickly crashed and burned when I recalled just how exactly I had managed to escape from the clutches of my captors and who they were.
I reacted by scrambling to a nearby trash bin and hurling my insides out of my gagging mouth, ignoring the concern of some locals as my eyes burned with mounting fear that continued to pile up higher and higher with each passing day.
How fucked up was it for a poor sod like me to end up in a place where I had only seen on my flat screen in just my nighties? Let me say: very much so. I remembered how excited people had been for the first release of the Iron Man film, and I had been too young to remember much about the first Hulk film. But when I saw Iron Man race across the sky with the jets following close behind him, my heart soared with adoration and excitement.
Now? Now I felt a heavy weight push my tired body closer to the ground the longer I stayed, listened, and continued to see everything happen all around me. Denial was useless to me, and besides, I had much bigger fish to worry about.
Said fish had been standing at the freezer aisle for the past forty minutes without picking up whatever dairy products they had been eyeing. The hair on the nape of my neck rose in alarm, an instinctual force telling me that there was something happening behind me. Feigning to bend down and straighten my sneakers, I glanced at the corner of my eyes to find a red laser light gleaming where I had been.
'Time to go.' I swallowed thickly as I pressed a button to alert someone to take over the cash register I was at.
I knew this would happen. I had seen it happen, how relentless they were when they wanted to claim back something they believed was theirs to begin with. I remembered sleepless nights, afraid to startle awake in time to see those horrible people storm inside my room with their weapons and tools of torture to extract and demand things I only knew half the time.
My dad was a man of the military, and he was all about routine, preparation, and order. His habits passed down on his children, and from this I was mentally preparing myself for the inevitable event that I would come face-to-face with the ones who caused me to become lost in their world... as well as some things that made me second guess almost every little thing I did.
Keeping my head low, I passed through the thick throngs of people. I was lucky that today was the day I would get a paycheck from working long hour shifts in the store to earn extra. Since I had no proof or record of my existence (a fact a certain group had taken advantage of in making it easier for me to simply disappear off the streets), I was always being payed in notes as the manager believed I was just another poor person who had no bank account and simply hid their fortune in a mattress. It was sort of true.
I had never had to worry about money since my dad served in the Royal Air Force; the bank that took care of current and former military men and women gave a lot of benefits for the family of the people who served. All I had now was a ziplock bag tucked somewhere inside a toilet to keep any burglar from making off with the money I had earned from the past few months.
With my earnings inside my pockets, red hoodie sweater pulled up over my head, and eyes watching for any signs for trouble, I walked out into the open streets and quickly integrated with a group of people that were too busy chattering amongst themselves to notice the tag along they had. Movies, televisions, video games, and real life tips made it somewhat bearable for me to go through this without instantly going into full blown panic mode.
As hard as it was for me to believe, this was my life now. No one was going to save me, so I had to do the heavy-lifting by trying to keep the fuck calm and carry the fuck on.
Even if I was one girl up against an entire organization made up of neo-Nazi crazies that preached about humanity surrendering its freedom to them by making the rest of the world chaotic thus paving a path to peace.
(Ilostmyselfinaspacewherenooneisgoingtohearmescream)
Home was really more a tiny motel room with peeling walls, questionable stain marks, and not-so-reliable indoor plumbing, but it was all I had before I decided to think about more complicated things. The land lord didn't ask questions, just grunted at people with an open hand for the cheap rent money he demanded before scuttering off back in his own hole to watch more football (soccer).
Everyone in the apartments minded each other's own business, nobody bothering the other for sugar or normal things neighbors usually did together. Nobody even blinked when some troublesome-looking bloke came skulking inside with smell of drugs and alcohol trailing after him before disappearing behind the door.
This was the sort of place that would have made my mother had a heart attack before grabbing me by the wrist and forcing me back to live with her and dad. It was not the most ideal place, I knew, but it was also the perfect place to disappear for some time before moving on.
And moving day had finally come.
Door slammed open and then promptly slammed shut, I didn't waste any time by running to my bed and reaching for a giant duffel bag hidden underneath it. Clothes and newly purchased toiletries hidden away, I tossed the bag onto the mattress and ran into the bathroom for the toilet. I grimaced as I forced the lid of the tank open, sticking my hand in the dirty water to fish out a ziplock bag full of notes and change that would help me in what I had been planning for the last month.
danger, danger, DANGER
My head whipped towards the door in time to see it thrown violently off its hinges as a group dressed in dark gear swarmed the scene.
Their guns raised, they all quickly scanned the suddenly empty apartment. With one left to stand guard at the entrance, the others spread around the room to look for the person they had been sent off to chase down. One threw open a closet door where only a few shirts and jeans hung in the air, another bent down to search the small kitchenette's cabinets.
Meanwhile, the last of the group went inside the bathroom, kicking a small laundry basket over before moving over to the tub. With the trigger locked into place, the man went over to the tub that was shielded by shower curtains, and with a grunt as they forced the curtains away... he found nothing.
With a curse, the dark agent snapped into his comms to relay a message that the apartment was swept clean. Just as he turned away to join his other equally frustrated companions, some tiny ceiling dust fell across his vision. He looked up.
And he was promptly met with a foot in the face.
As the agent collided into the wall, I dropped on all fours from the ceiling, head whipping up to spot all three startled agents that had been taken off guard from the ambush. Not giving them a chance of recovery, I grabbed the semi-conscious agent that was sliding off the wall in time to avoid being hit by three different bullets aimed for me. With a heave, I vaulted the body in my hold towards the two agents and ran at the third while the others fell onto the floor. I slapped away the gun aimed at me, not blinking as it went off while I gave a swift kick to the agent's unprotected groin. The man easily crumbled to the ground on his knees.
Seeing another agent scramble out of the dog pile with a gun still in their hands, I used the kneeling agent in front of me as a hold while delivering a double kick to the other's armored chest. The other slammed into the wall, denting it before falling out on the other side!
Throwing my wad of notes and coins in the duffel bag, I ran around the limp bodies, hopping over the one that got kicked on the other side before darting down the hallway like a bullet.
Those goons couldn't have worked alone, and I just knew that once they tattled back to their superiors, the next time they came after me would be the time they sent larger squads on my tail. I was lucky they had underestimated me, that they hadn't expected me to put up much of a fight, but now that I had shown my cards to them, the next game was going to be brutal.
Not bothering to go downstairs (where there was more to be surely waiting for me), I knocked a few doors, hoping for one of them to quickly open up to me. The commotion I made probably scared them all shitless that they most likely barricaded themselves until the threat was gone. One door flung open, a room belonging to some red-eyed junkie, I didn't bother saying anything as I ducked under his arm and scrambled inside his apartment. Ignoring the protests and slurs made from behind me, I didn't even stop at the sight of half-naked women and men, too busy trying to get the hell away with my freedom intact. Spotting a nearby window, I forced it open and quickly scrambled down.
At the corner of my vision, I spied a couple of unmarked vans parked near the entrance of the apartment.
With the risk of being spotted, I grabbed the rails and hauled my body over it, flying the last two stories before landing like an acrobatic feline. I hauled arse after that, never looking behind as I ran for the crowded streets that would throw any of my pursuers off my trail for the moment. The clothes in my bag and the shampoo, conditioner, toothbrushes and paste were all I was going to have when I got to where I was going.
Because once I got to where I needed to go, I was going to be some homeless kid living under a bridge inside a cardboard box.