Am I right to assume that everyone enjoyed the last chapter? I'm glad you guys enjoyed it, and I'm really happy this story made it this far with so much positively, and the only criticism I garnered was someone suggesting I get someone to help me with writing because my past and present tense are atrocious. Yeah, I know, I haven't taken a creative writing class so I'm kind of left in the dark here, but there's also the want to hurry up and post the new chapter for you guys.

Anyway, I just want to say that we're nearing the end of this story. Yep, you read right; this story is coming to a close. Don't panic, there's going to be a sequel coming up, but before that happens there's going to be a spin-off story. You'll understand the details when you read this chapter, so read ahead and remember to leave a review for me because I like to hear what you have to say. Thank you and enjoy! And trust me, you will enjoy this to the very last (I think).

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

"Ms. Booker! My file!"

"Coming along, Mr. Murdoch."

"Booker, where's the coffee? I got a meeting in two minutes!"

"It's right next to your computer, Mr. Yancy."

"Booker, sweetie, did I get a call from the firm?"

"There was a call from your husband's doctor, they wanted to see if your schedule won't conflict with his upcoming physical."

"Hey, Weiss, you free for Wednes—"

"Thomas, for the tenth time, I said no. Whoever told you that when a girl says no it somehow translates to yes, do me a favor and punch them."

"Weiss!"

Pausing from taking another sip of water, I heard the stampede before two women joined my side: Cherry and Lorraine. Cherry worked at the reception office of the higher ups from the upper floor, her red hair giving a sort of attraction that it was the sole reason she was picked by Mr. Fern to work outside of his office, not at all paying any attention to her incredible credentials. Lorraine, dark hair and hailing originally from some small town in Ohio before arriving to the big city of Chicago, worked a few cubicles away from where I was stationed.

As for me? I worked as some little nobody paper pusher who just "graduated" from community college with an Associates Degree.

Just when I thought that it would be difficult for me to create a new identity, I was proven wrong when one of the computer's from Rick's lab was designed to help me forge a fake identity by searching for deceased candidates that were known in life as hermits to society. The computer automatically marked an old man who had died nearly two years ago in Chicago: a veteran by the name of Craig Booker. A Lieutenant who fought in Vietnam. No wife and children, he left the world alone in a hospital, his fortune given away and his home sold to a couple looking to start a family.

Selecting him, the computer got to work in guiding me on how to create a seemingly authentic new file of identity for me. A Passport, driver's license, social security number, and many other things to help create a believable person. As a bonus, being that Booker served the military, I created an account with a military bank that would give me a lot of benefits and discounts; a lot like how it did with my father serving in the Royal Air Force.

With money no longer the issue (because somewhere inside the lockers was loads of cash which I immediately deposited in the local bank), my identity brand new, and tentatively putting myself out there, I left New York behind and moved to Illinois, finding an apartment in Chicago while applying for a job. Now, to everyone who cared to look me up, I was Edelweiss Chancine Booker, illegitimate granddaughter of Lieutenant Craig Booker.

A nobody in a nameless crowd with a forgettable story to keep me anonymous.

Yet despite my efforts, people somehow pushed their way into my life and tried to spice it up with interest beyond the professional scope. This lead to meeting some colorful people while working at the administrative offices of a small-time development corporation: Cherry, Lorraine, Myshkin, and Aaron.

Myshkin was originally from Ukraine, but moved to America in wanting to pursue a business opportunity. I think he wanted to make a connection between here and Ukraine, so that was why he was in a lot of meetings with the man he was currently working under, also probably getting experience pointers from the experienced manager. Myshkin was almost thirty and little sick-looking, but he was nice and kind to everyone, his windblown blond hair and green eyes making him appear cute that it made Cherry swoon for him. Too bad for her he was gay (I caught him giving a few male coworkers some appreciative looks).

Aaron was like an underdog around here. First quitting from high school but then going back again because financials troubles, working at menial jobs to get money for college classes, almost failing out of his classes because his professors were strict as hell in wanting their students to arrive on time that they locked their doors far late goers, and then working to impress some shady assholes who threatened to fire him. Racist bastards, the lot of them. Aaron was an admirable figure in the workforce, the kind you tipped your hat to because he worked his arse off since he was a child to get to where he was now, and he deserved so much promotion and salaries for the effort he put in wanting to become an architect to begin a restoration for the damaged and abandoned neighborhoods of Chicago.

I spent time with the older men and women, learning from them and adopting a few things of their traits (still paranoid, no matter what, the feeling becoming second nature to me by now). I started to learn some Russian from Myshkin because... well, why the hell not? Aaron, I helped out by bringing supplies and food for him because I wanted to ease the struggle he had to go through every day. Cherry liked to chatter and so I listened to her gossip, picking up a few tidbits from other coworkers and our bosses that governed over us like kings to peasants. Lorraine took me on shopping trips, and she helped in teaching me the way of charm and beauty as we visited salons, spas, and clothing stores while chatting it up with a few men, something that had been terribly lacking in Ohio.

"Oh my gosh, Weiss, did you watch the news?" Lorraine asked as she grabbed me by the arm and started to pull me along with her, Cherry trailing after us with an excited skip in her step. "I know how much you like to watch that stuff! Like shit, watch this!"

"What?" I perked up, alarmed. "What happened?!"

"Look, look, look!" Cherry pointed at the telly where it was perched above in the break room, several workers also gathered and looking on.

"—Senator Stern placed under arrest in collusion with Obadiah Stane's contracts, and refuses to comment about contacts with Justin Hammer of Hammer Industries on recreating the Iron Man suits—"

The first few weeks had been the most daunting weeks I had ever experienced besides being on the run. After leaving New York, I kept an eye and ear to the radio stations and television news channels to get constant updates, and each day that passed without a single hint of any change was when dread began to sink home. Questions whether Ms. Potts had deemed the object too much of a risk and had it destroyed haunted my mind, and even worse were imaginations if she had handed it to authorities that it would reach back to the organization. What if all which Rick had sacrificed himself, and his wife, was in vain?

Those were some dark days that loomed over me. It was so bad I was literally crawling on my hands and knees, crying my eyes out that some neighbors called in concern complained to the landlord or boldly knocked on my door to see what all the hullabaloo was about. It was pathetic, but I was experiencing a hopeless situation that I accepted pitiful hugs from an old woman who cooed gently in my ear, holding me something fierce that all it did was make me cry because it reminded me that my mother wasn't ever going to give me comfort.

The time that followed was like waiting for a game over. Waiting for those bastards to finally catch up and kick the door, ready to run for my life again, ready for everything to fall apart before my eyes once again.

But something, after so long in the silence, finally happened.

It wasn't like a grand explosion of things, it started off small and subtle that nobody, including myself, batted an eyelash at a small business chain getting shut down. That sort of thing happened all the time, from either the poor treatment of the staff and customers to the questionable products. No big deal.

And then it wasn't just small business chains getting closed, there was also small corporations, factories, and plants getting pushed up. There was scandals such as shady business transactions, embezzlement coming out of the pockets of funds, blackmails and death threats for silence and obedience, and other abhorrent things when it came to the corporate business world.

And from there it never stopped.

Lo and behold, watching with eyes that grew wider with each case being brought up on television, everything was unfolding.

Hammer Industries, VistaCorps, Cross Technologies were some of the big names thrown in, and it would surprise me if they also included the FBI and CIA, and well, the entire American Government and Senate, but that would probably be overdoing it a tad bit. But I could see it, the way people were shifting in awareness, becoming hyper vigilant for double agents, corrupt officials, dirty reporters, and whatever scum that dared hide themselves behind badges and uniforms.

This was shaking the entire country to its very core as everyone was forced to open their eyes and see what was happening in their schools, police departments, court houses, government cabinets/parliaments, banks, and so forth. There was no way these series of revelations was going to leave people keeping their eyes closed and heads turned, because this was their tax dollars, their identities, their property, their trust being sprung up with abuse by the people they were trusting to keep them safe and secure.

The conspiracy theorists were having a field day with the entire thing by spreading the paranoia that a secret organization was in the midst of all this (and they weren't wrong about that).

The best part? This didn't stay in only America.

Like someone once said: when a person had herpes, they weren't meant to keep it to themselves.

(fightpoisonwithpoison)

The wave went across oceans and into foreign countries. The connections that I knew went deep into the offices and departments, and it wouldn't be long before this became an international crack down.

Stark was leaving no stone unturn in this global witch hunt.

With the possibility of him giving other countries a heads up of what was going on under their very noses, he left them to their own devices as they went ahead with their investigations in uprooting the pit of slithering snakes hiding inside of their lawns. The grass was tall but they had their lawn mowers ready to be deployed.

There was still one organization that had yet to be implied, but I suppose Stark was still working on that bed of vipers. It wouldn't do him any good if he kicked the nest because it could get downright messy, so he was most likely trying to weed out who was on the lighter shade of the gray scale before burning away the icky black that threatened to stain everything.

"Damn," I heard Aaron speak from the front of the whole room. "This whole thing is going to hell."

"Finally." someone snorted. "Those asshats are finally getting what's coming to them."

"This is insane." a woman shook her head. "It's happening everywhere."

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing, Chrissie," her girl friend scoffed. "That bloated Cheeto Donald Trump is facing trial! This is a cause of celebration!"

Had people not been preoccupied with the screen, they all would have been scared of the giant smile on my face.

So much was happening, so much of it finally being dealt with because someone finally heard the secret. Someone in power, with the resources and technology to do more, was doing the impossible.

The joy in me was so contagious, I wanted to grab Cherry and Lorraine and hug them like a koala bear. I wanted to take Aaron to that restaurant he wanted to go to and treat him to the most expensive plate they had on their menu, I wanted to take Cherry up on her offer to go to a club and shake my barely covered arse at some drunk bloke's face, I wanted to go to a hair salon with Lorraine and just have girl talk between us two, I wanted to be Myshkin's wing woman and help him set up a nice hot date with the guy from two floors below us, and most of all, I wanted to finally let myself go and scream at the top of my lungs because—

"Hey, Weiss, wanna get something to eat?" Cherry asked after the news anchor moved on to the investigation within Stark Industries.

Just like it had in the second movie, Stark dealt with the malicious Vanko during the Grand Prix de Monaco à la Iron Man (with Happy and Ms. Potts assisting him). But unlike in the film, there was no prison break fixed by Justin Hammer. The moment that swine was implicated in the plot with Senator Stern, he came immediately under fire once it leaked out that his company was trying (and failing horribly) to replicate the Iron Man armor. Stark Industries took legal action and it looked like Hammer and his company was finished.

Then everything started veering way off the lane. There was no birthday of gloom and doom where it broke out into a fight between Stark and his best friend, and the billionaire disappeared from the public eye altogether, only a few snapshots here and there taken by nosy paparazzi's. A lot of people suspected that this was a sign that Stark was trying to save face upon his company undergoing an investigation by appointing Ms. Potts as the new CEO of Stark Industries. But I knew better than that.

Stark was in the midst of creating a cure to combat the palladium poisoning. And not only that, he was most likely busy with certain things. So as Stark Industries busied itself in starting new company liaisons that were checked and cleaned, focused on developing education, funding universities for younger generations with important research in their projects, giving to charity, hosting important galas, increasing the influence to outside companies, coming up with new energy to replace unreliable/destructive sources and chemicals to prevent further destruction on the environment, and backing up a ton of things that could be beneficial for improving the world, Stark focused on the dark side of humanity.

(youjustranawaythat'sallyou'regoodforandyou'restillrunning)

"Weiss?" Myshkin's hand rested on my shoulder, shaking me from my thoughts.

"C'mon, let's go eat." I told the others as I headed to my cubicle to grab my purse. "My treat!"

"Free food? I'm game." Aaron agreed easily as he followed Lorraine to grab his things from his cubicle.

I watched the four chatter as they went to grab their car keys, purses, wallets, and I couldn't help a small niggling feeling of happiness overwhelm me. Little things like arguing where to go eat and if they wanted dessert afterwards made me smile fondly.

After everything I had experienced when I arrived to this new and scary world, I learned never to take things for granted. Because the moment it all disappeared, the moment when you find yourself all alone and there was no familiar face to turn to, you had to learn to cherish the moments as long as you could hold on to them.

I never wanted to let something like this go.

But I knew I could not keep this forever.

All I could really do was just smile and enjoy it while it lasted.

Today had been a long and good day.

I got my paycheck of the week, earning over seven hundred dollars to transfer to my savings account, which was much and plenty. Eating out with my coworkers was nice, being able to take in the moment of respite reminded me of the crew back in New Jersey, that it gave me the urge to go grocery shopping for meat, fish, vegetables, fruits, and ingredients to take home and cook dinner for myself. I wanted to box some of it and give it to Mrs. Davenport, the sweet old lady from next door who looked after me for some time whilst I cried myself into oblivion over the nightmares of Stark ignoring the warning signs I had handed over to him.

Living in Chicago was a learning experience, but I kept myself busy in a way. Five months of silence threatened to lower my guard, but I kept an emergency bag hidden away in case the inevitable happened. Just because nothing happened yet didn't absolutely mean there wasn't something.

With my arms full of groceries, I fumbled a little over the keys until they unlocked the door. Entering the cool comforts of my home, I let out a sigh while checking on the clock next to the doorway, reading it to be hitting it close to eight o'clock. I should really get started on making that dinner because no matter how aware I could be in a flat second, I still wanted to rest and preserve my energy for work. People wanting their coffees, their files, their tablets, their schedules filled or cleared, their calls, and every typical thing to be had in the offices was exhausting. But what it really needed was some respect because I can only count on two hands how many times an arsehole came close to touching my—

Someone was inside my apartment.

I went still as any petrified person my shoes would; breath caught in my throat, muscles taut with tension, I listened carefully as my senses concentrated on the breathing and heartbeat of the person inside my apartment.

Their heart sounded a little... off tune. A heart murmur I would have thought yet there was a metallic sense, like a light bulb left on.

And it wasn't one person, there was another... two more. There was three people inside. While the first heart was off-tune, the other two felt calm and measured. However, there was one that gradually quickened as the seconds went, like it was excited; it was like how a predator felt when it was a hairbreadths away from pouncing on the prey.

(theywillalwaysfindyoulittlerabbit)

There was a whirring like that of a machine, soft and giving subtle hints of excising heat, just as metallic as the light bulb one, but bigger. All three hearts were inside my apartment, and they were waiting for me in my living room which was beyond my kitchen.

I could turn and run, I could quickly grab my emergency bag and make for the bank to take my money out—

"You mind joining us, Ms. Booker?"

... I knew that voice.

My eyes went to the door. I wanted to pretend that this wasn't happening, this was one moment I never wanted to face for as long as I could get away from it. I was afraid, I was so afraid of this like I was back in the horrible, dark place when it all started.

All I ever wanted was a sense of normalcy, to run away back to England... but I knew I couldn't. I wanted to pretend I could shut out the cries of helplessness people around me felt when I walked the streets, but even after all that... I knew I couldn't.

I couldn't ignore people when they needed help; I couldn't go out with Lorraine on her shopping trips as much as I wanted to; I couldn't always lend an ear to Cherry when she needed someone to talk about her horrible dates; I couldn't ask Myshkin to teach me to speak in Russian because of the time it would take; I couldn't always stand in Aaron's corner when he really needed someone to stand by him.

All I could do was wear so many masks, keep myself hidden, and pretend I was invisible. I spent money taking private lessons on how to fight better with my head before moving towards fighting with my fists and legs. I also went back to the gym, relearning old tricks I was taught when I had been in gymnastics before calling it quits. Vaulting, leaping, jumping, twisting, climbing, hanging, and dancing with other girls and ladies who moved with grace and swiftness. And then there was the time I spent running after people on the streets who ran through the city like it was their playground: free running. Jumping over high rooftops, skidding across balconies, moving like languid cats to climb to the highest places without hassle.

This world had done nothing but taken so much from me, it should have left me more angry and afraid that I was no longer able to recognize my old self. Too busy changing from one color to another, like some chameleon, I was losing the meaning of normalcy. In spite of that, I was still trying my best in living the only way I could given my extreme circumstances. So yeah, I was afraid, and sometimes angry at the unfairness of it all, but I would only drag myself in further misery if I stood and did nothing while I had some power to alleviate the pressure put upon the rest of the people around me.

I wasn't ready to face this moment, but whether I was or wasn't, it was here and it was happening.

And it was stepping inside my kitchen from behind me. He was big, I could feel his body heat as he came closer to where I was standing. He burned more than any normal person should be able to. I could also hear the machine that came from somewhere on his person. I felt something brush against my slack arm.

"Hey," a soft and mellow Brooklyn accent filtered into my ears. "Facin' the wrong way, sweetheart. C'mon."

So many familiar voices. I felt my breathing grow a little heavier than normal, my lips quivering with the threat to scream or throw up, I couldn't decide which. Just like with Ms. Potts, I felt weak and helpless.

He pulled me along, forcing my feet to move and follow the direction he set course for me. My chest grew heavy like somebody put a great big rock there and left it. My senses were all over the place, everything was either to noisy or too bright, making the room spin like vertigo gone wrong. His hands, ever so gentle, remained where they were, pulling me along despite knowing how easily he could snap my bones like they tiny twigs.

(hadn'the?)

It was almost like I was finally feeling the slow motion of the world, no longer moving fast enough, actually struggling to catch up with time. Unlike all the hearts that surrounded me, unlike all the heat and breath that remained cool and controlled, I was a mess of slow building panic and fear.

Just because I was the strongest person in the room didn't mean they wouldn't have a hard time in taking me down. I was an emotional wreck about to crash and burn, and they would stand like tall pillars of the earth, like untouchable gods sitting on the lofty clouds of their great kingdom.

"—eep breaths, honey, c'mon, don't panic."

I don't think I knew how to breathe like a normal person anymore. This shouldn't have happened, I shouldn't be seeing them, I shouldn't be here in the same space as them.

(youwerenevermeanttobehereYouAreTHELIE!)

Warm hands cup my face, and my eyes are scrunched shut, and there are tears falling, and my lungs were collapsing on me! Where was the archangel who would smite people? Where was God striking lighting at me? Where was the guillotine falling from?

Where was the end?!

"Oh Jesus, you're really freaking out about this, aren't you? Follow my count and breathe. You ready? Just follow my breathing."

One, something, five, whatever, I can't—

"C'mon, you can do it, again."

One, two, I can't believe this shit...

"A little better, keep going."

One, two, fuck, four, why was this so hard?

"It's okay, we can keep going until you get this."

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FiVe

SiX

SEven

EighT

Nine

Ten

"There ya go, all better. Doing real good, one more?"

It was like counting sheep, and I could tell because I felt so exhausted. Sleeping was a small luxury I had taken for granted, the way I just closed my eyes and inhaled and exhaled, the sheets cool over my body as the night sang beyond my window. Behind my closed eyelids were dreams: odd and sometimes wonderful. I was sailing in a sea of milk with chocolate sharks trying to eat my ship that was bowl of marshmallow cereal; I was fighting and winning the battle against a giant lion who was angry I pet his girlfriend; I was trying to escape a bunch of aliens because I had the last batch of gummi worms.

Suddenly, breathing wasn't so hard anymore.

I opened my eyes and met Robert Downey Jr.'s own worried chocolate-colored orbs.

"Okay, not how I imagined my meeting with the illusive Spider-Woman would go, but I suppose it's better than getting a punch in the face or something. Also, nice to finally meet you, Ms. Not-so-Itsy-Bitsy-Spider."

"Why do you keep comparing other meetings with people to our meeting?" asked one Sebastian Stan who stood a little away from the man in front of me, looking unimpressed as he crossed his brawny (and single shiny) arms over his chest.

"Really? You can't actually expect someone to act all courteous after finding out certain things, Barnes." Scarlett Johansson droned in that familiar deadpan tone of voice, a single perfect brow raised at the long-haired man with the metal arm who gave the redhead a sour look. "Be glad Stark went with a love tap rather than straight out murdering you."

"Did you seriously call that ass-whooping a love tap?" RDJ demanded over his shoulder to the deadly duo, still holding my face between his hands.

"... What the fuck?" I mumbled.

Because there was Tony Stark, James Buchanan Barnes, and Natasha Romanoff standing in the middle of my apartment and just helped me barely avoid falling into a hyperventilating mess—which, might I add, were the cause of said hyperventilation!

Really, what the ever-living fuck?