Hello, hello, hello! Did you guys enjoy the last chapter despite it having nothing to really do with the plot of MCU? I hoped so, it made my insides warm when I read one reviewer thinking of my character as such a badass. Also, I noticed no one seemed bothered about the OC's lack of name and biography. Well, to be honest, that was intentional and all because I do have a name for her, a face, too... but I like to keep some stuff secret. Though I'll be happy to share some facts:
She's 18 (I know in the last chapter I said she's near twenty, but isn't that like the age of adulthood cause despite 18, the word teen is somewhere next to the number, along with 19), she's not American (you can obviously tell from her slang), and she has Spider-Man abilities (that was a given, but I wanted to be clear in case someone people are confused).
Now that everybody seems to be in the same page, shall we move on? Again, no MCU action like you want, this is gonna be another filler where she's traveling to get to New York. Also another chapter where there's a lesson to be learned, almost like a cartoon episode, yeah. To be honest, that's what most of the fillers are going to revolve around, not just a lesson but how she learns to survive from every situation she comes across. Hustling to earn money, check that, now what's the next thing to learn for our girl, hm?
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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Sitting inside a comfortable bus that crossed into the upper states was infinitely better than having to treat myself like some bumper sticker on the topside of a bus. For one, my hair would no longer turn into a rat's nest from the wind, I didn't have to constantly hide from patrol cars, and it provided some minimum cover. I still wore a ball cap and sunglasses to keep myself hidden from whatever camera installed inside the bus to keep me off the radar of people I really didn't want finding me.
I would have loved to say that after winning the money from Shep, I walked out of the bar with my head held high and a skip to my stride.
Sadly, that didn't happen.
Losing his cool, the man furiously came up and roughly grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me like I was a lapdog. He was screaming in my face, demanding how someone who had drank nine different hardcore beverages could stand so straight despite my wobbling.
Bastard even admitted to spiking two of my drinks.
Before more damage could be done, Coop swooped in and landed a blow to Shep's side with a battle cry, and immediately the whole bar went ballistic. Chairs flew, fists connected, women and men screamed and shouted, and many bodies tangled together like a violent rave party. I quickly grabbed the money left on the tray the betting girl left behind in her haste to get away from the danger, quickly stuffing the crumpled dollars in my pockets before high-tailing it. When I got to the entrance, Sid ran to me with my duffel bag.
Thankful for all her kindess, I stuffed a couple hundred dollars for her, because she seriously earned it and probably didn't get paid enough to deal with that kind of shit.
Then off I went, running to the nearest bus stop I had spotted earlier afternoon in the area, purchased myself a ticket, and climbed aboard.
There wasn't a lot of people on the bus, and I made sure to seat myself in the furthest and most isolated part of the bus where I was sure no one would bother me. Had to be extra careful now, how I kept my money because there was a huge chance that someone would see me as a target for pick-pocketing. That, and there was the off chance someone would be looking for unusual things such as someone who wasn't wearing a bikini making for the shores of a beach many hours after a horrible plane crash. Social media could really be a bitch, but that was to be expected in the age where technology would quickly control people's daily lives.
Next stop was right in the border of Maryland.
Close to Washington.
Closer to them.
Looking down at my attire, I knew that dressing like some runaway wasn't going to help me shake off any snakes going after my trail. So, the moment the bus reached it's stop, I was going to head into the nearest shopping center, purchase some moderate and unassuming clothes, dump my (mostly stolen) wardrobe in a nearby Goodwill store, and finally erase my existence.
(it'slikesayinggoodbyetosomeoneyou'llneverseeagain)
Alexandria looked like the buildings I had seen when playing Assassin's Creed III, the red brick houses erected with almost antique-looking buildings, it gave an atmosphere besides historical.
I couldn't dawdle for long, sadly.
Buying a suitcase was easy, the kind that hard and air-tight to keep my clothes dry even if it fell into the water. Slowly filling it up with clothes I tried on before concluding they would do, I collected an array of undergarments, fit jeans, shirts, sweaters, a couple of shoes, and some skirts with matching blouses (I had to use all manner of clothes to immerse myself). Buying a room for the day in a crappy motel was the best thing I could do, I was hungry but I honestly didn't feel like chewing on some snacks I purchased from the bus station.
I made sure to hide the USB and suitcase in different places in case there was sneaky staff members looking to steal stuff off of me whilst I was outside. I was dressed in faded jeans, sneakers, a light blue buttoned top with short sleeves, and a caramel brown leather jacket. Stuffing a couple hundreds of dollars in my back pocket, I stepped outside and began to explore.
Everything was different. It was silly to think that, I knew, yet I couldn't help thinking of it after everything that's happened to me. Being first born in England, everything was cloudy, damp, and there was the vast green spread out from the village I used to live in. Then dad had transferred from the Royal Air Force to the American branch, moving everyone all the way to the sunny and dry state of California. My pallor form suddenly suffering from constant sunburns until I grew used to the sun that I developed I nice tan from it after spending enough time outside in lighter clothes (though honestly, I could have done without the earthquakes).
And then everything turned to shit after ending up here.
Escaping from the cold Ukraine mountains, traveling through the forested and back roads of Germany, disappearing into the cities and streets of Spain—there was never really a moment for me to stop and enjoy the new surroundings. Not for me, anyway.
Window shopping was a hobby of mine, looking around to see whatever caught my eye before I either had to be dragged away or risk losing my money because I was impulsively buying junk I really didn't need to hoard. The Lord knew how many times my mother got after me for it. There was people out and about, and it seemed like a lifetime ago how I didn't even bat an eyelash at crowded areas... now I was left paranoid, always looking over my shoulder for signs of men in dark gear stalking me.
My focus on looking out for anything out of the ordinary caused me to almost run over a petite, curvy woman.
"Sorry!" I startled from bumping into her, hands out as if trying to steady her in case she fell back (which she didn't).
"No problem, ma'am," she said before her mouth split in a fake smile. "Would you be interested in our cosmetic products? We also include facial masking, eyebrow trimming—"
Shopping in the malls for the newest trend in store was not something I was ever interested in. My girl friends (along with a couple of boys who just wanted to go GameStop or Foot Locker) always dragged me with them to have me either be a guinea pig for their dress-ups or just needed a pack mule since they figured I might as well make myself useful. The girls would chatter and explore, going through many brands then moving onto the next. Every now and then, people who occupied the walkway of the mall offered perfume, souvenirs, and any other knick-knacks that would get a passerby's attention.
We moved along, politely declining with feigned regret before scarpering off elsewhere.
Automatically, I was going to decline the offer. I found it useless and a waste of money, but I quickly stopped myself before my voice reached out of my mouth. Seeing a reflection of myself, I almost wanted to punch myself in the face.
I looked like I did all those months ago. My aunt told me countless times I had a natural beauty about me, something that didn't necessarily need makeup, but she did add that it would amplify it should I try to wear lipstick and eyeliner more often. Back then, I snorted at her attempts to turn me into a more feminine woman, pushing my nose further into my comic books, manga, or battling with my brother on our shared game console.
Now, I wondered...
"Ma'am?"
I turned to the woman in front of me, her posture straightening when she saw the interest that stirred in my eyes. "What does the facial mask do, exactly...?"
Thirty minutes inside the beauty shop, I'm leaning back on a chair with the entirety of my face mostly covered in black paste. Acne and blackheads were a kid's worse nightmare when experiencing the early stages of puberty. My face was blotched with ugly zits that my brother teased me about (though he was no better, his face was a crater from his pimples), I hated showing up in school with my ugly appearance. Other girls hid the hideousness of it behind their make-up, but I wasn't so lucky. Thankfully, the acne rash that had humiliated me throughout secondary school began to fade over time as my hormones settled down. It only helped a lot later on when mum got me and my brother a small acne kit to hasten the process of getting rid of our ugly marks because of the constant grief we gave her and dad.
Then came the blackhead problems.
"Okay, the face mask should be dry enough for us to peel off."
Bianca, Mandy, and Megan were three women who worked in different stations of the beauty shop.
Bianca worked on cooking up a facial mask appropriate for anyone, just giving one look at your face before advising what the customer needed to do to create a healthy look for the skin. She had simply placed me on her station chair and immediately got to work on my face, putting the cool paste and instructing me to wait. She was nice enough to turn my seat to an angle where I was free to watch the television playing re-runs of Smallville.
Mandy was the next station that did the eyebrow trimming. Needless to say, I really needed it because while my brows weren't so out of control, I wouldn't pass getting some better work done on them. My mum and aunt complimented on my eyebrows having an arch that gave me a look of sophistication.
"You're gonna look good when I finish." Mandy said as she removed wayward hairs that pinched above my eyelids.
It was a good thing that my pain tolerance had reached new levels, no longer getting watery-eyed from the stinging sensation that came from plucking hair. I relaxed as Mandy took her time in removing each hair from both my brows until there were perfectly trimmed to her liking. Next came Mandy's sister: Megan. She was the makeup artist.
"You have such lovely cheekbones, girl. You need to accent them a little more."
She went to work right away, applying a creamy lotion that matched my skin tone and spreading it all over my face. Then she pulled out her brushes and worked on my cheekbones, mumbling about how she was going to make my cheeks more noticeable with foundation and blush. I got nervous when she brought out a black pen and went straight for my eyes, forcing myself to hold still so that she wouldn't end up accidentally poking my eye out.
"Don't worry, sweetie, you're doing just fine." she laughed, noting my nervousness.
After that nightmare was done and over with, she worked on my eyelashes, the mascara making my lashes seem longer. Pulling out more brushes, she painted over my eyelids. I kept my eyes closed the entire time, letting her do what was best.
Finally, I felt something soft and cold brush against my lips. Opening my eyes, I watched Megan paint my bottom lip with a light pink peach lip gloss that had a glossy, glimmering look, none of that childish glitter makeup most young girls had. I rubbed my lips together, spreading the lip gloss. Megan pulled away to put away her things then returned with a mirror in her hands.
What I saw reflected back to me was someone I barely recognized.
There was a woman. Beautiful, classy, and more older than she seemed when her smokey eyes returned their gaze towards me. Lips plump and tempting, cheeks more pronounced from the blush, and skin flawless.
(whoareyou?)
"Wow, Meg," Mandy complimented her sister, coming over from her station as she looked me over. "You look like right out of a magazine, miss."
The woman in the mirror was not the same girl who was running for her life, who was scared out of her mind, nor was she pitiful as me. She looked cool-headed, vain, confident, powerful, and potentially wrathful.
A memory popped up; a memory of me sitting in one of my many classes in community college. A teacher from my sociology class was giving a power point presentation and explaining how society had views about aesthetically-looking people. A beautiful little girl was more likely to be dismissed from causing trouble when she was in fact the perpetrator of said trouble whilst children who didn't have the innocent cherub look were often pinned with blame. Another example was a study conducted, multiple interviews on beautiful lovely-looking women who shared the common story of being pulled over by a police for whatever traffic reasons before being let off with a warning rather than receiving a ticket.
A few students in the class laughed, many of them confirming that they, too, had gotten away from being given a ticket by playing sweet and using their womanly charms to soften up the police officer enough that they would be dismissed.
Beauty was a distraction, it was a literal mask you painted on yourself to change what was hiding beneath, it was a mask to captivate the audience on the character portrayed while the person stringing the act remained undetected. This was going to be a tool that would help me hide deeper, darker, and more safer from those hunting for me.
"It's lovely," I said, my brown eyes moving from the mirror to the two women. "Thank you."
I spent nearly two hours in the shop, talking to the three women as they helped me hand pick some makeup items and facial masks to continue maintaining a beautiful, flawless, and smooth appearance. I listened carefully as they explained ways to mix up the make up applying, observing as they used doll heads to illustrate what I could do with the products. When I walked out of the shop, I didn't duck my head or look over my shoulders as I did on the way through the streets. I walked with my head held high, I kept a casual gait in my steps, and I feigned a smile when some men greeted me, not hiding their interest as they watched me go.
They were expecting to find a wide-eyed, haunted-looking girl, so their eyes would not be able to see a woman easily walking by them like another pretty face on the streets.