Present day;
New York, 2012 - Starbucks. Afternoon. Daphne
The small café in the middle of New York was surprisingly quiet despite the rush of civilians who weaved about outside. The sky had started to set and was a beautiful concoction of red, orange and purple, indicating that the evening was close by.
Daphne Collins was sitting down at a table next to a large window, taking a sip of her coffee - a large hazelnut latte with soya milk and two sugars. They had made it to perfection. She read the newspaper spread out before her, trying not to listen to the heated argument a couple were having a few tables over. The headline said; MUTANT CRISIS INCREASING. She scoffed and shook her head in disgust. These media platforms were always so quick to judge anyone that was different. She assumed the prejudices stemmed either from fear or jealousy, though Daphne more-so suspected the latter. The article detailed someone's account of their 'horrific' experiences with mutants. To quote, the poor soul 'feared for their lives', when in reality they saw a child accidentally move something by looking at it.
She clenched her jaw, trying to relieve some of the existing tension she felt. It reminded her of the week from hell she'd just had. Somehow Daphne managed to resist the urge to murder somebody with her bare hands - well, except for that one time - ultimately deciding that it wasn't worth the bollocking she would get from Fury.
"Pathetic mutant". The insult rattled around in her head.
After many rude - and downright vulgar - comments, she felt like she was going to explode with pure aggravation. Of course, not everyone in SHIELD was completely cruel to her, but that didn't lessen the resentment she felt. As if being born a little different was a crime.
And, if she were being honest with herself, it was ironic. SHIELD feared the abilities of mutants, but sought to exploit what they could do. At the end of the day, mutants were a weapon.
She could understand where a very small majority of the comments had stemmed from. She knew from experience that there were a few mutants who decided to use the extra abilities for the purpose of hurting others, but she, herself, had never given anyone any reason to think the same of her.
Sighing to herself, Daphne quickly turned the page.
The chair opposite hers squeaked against the wood floor as someone made themselves comfortable. When she continued reading the newspaper without so much as a glance, the person in front of her sighed heavily.
"Tough day?"
She glanced up at the familiar voice, and greeted them with a wide smile. "Isn't it always?"
Sitting before her was none other than Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD, dressed in his usual black suit. He returned the smile, leaning down to rest a conspicuous-looking briefcase onto the floor.
"After all," she continued offhandedly. "I am the freak of the week."
Phil shot her a deadpan expression and looked like he was about to argue with her, so she rambled on to interrupt whatever he planned to say. "So anyway, what's up?"
"The sky," he quipped instantly. Daphne shot him an unamused glare.
"Ha-ha, Philly. You should've been a comedian. My stomach hurts from laughing so much," she deadpanned in a monotonous voice.
He feigned a look of intense pride which brought a small grin to her lips. Daphne noticed the glint of excitement in his eyes.
"Seriously, though. You look like a kid on Christmas day. What's got you so hyped up?" She pressed, taking a sip of her coffee.
Phil glanced around them quickly. "I have a little job for you," he answered vaguely.
"Which is?" She prompted, her eyebrows raised expectantly.
"Sensitive," he told her. "There's a file waiting for you in your apartment with the information you'll need."
Daphne frowned at the cloak-and-dagger game Phil was playing. "That's all you're gonna tell me? Anyway, I thought Fury was going to put me on suspension… which was completely unjustified, might I add."
He stared blankly at her for a few moments before coughing, as if covering up a laugh. "You tried to strangle Sitwell," he reminded her in explanation.
If he was trying to make her feel guilty, he was failing. Daphne felt no remorse for the little rat. "You know he deserves it. I just did what everyone else was wanting to do."
Phil seemed to nod in agreement, but it was so small that Daphne couldn't tell. Probably due to something like not being rude to co-workers or some such nonsense. He took a large gulp of his cup of tea which the mutant didn't notice he had.
She scrunched up her nose in distaste. "How can you drink that crap?"
"It's an acquired taste."
"Damn right," she muttered, remembering when Phil had once forced her to try the substance, then stated louder. "It's been a while, Phil."
"You know you could've picked up the phone," he chastised her, like a parent might tell off a child.
"Aww, did you miss me? How sweet," she cooed with a wide smile.
He just sat and stared at her, unamused.
"Woah, tough crowd," she joked, causing Phil to cock an eyebrow at her. "Just trying to diffuse the tension… Hey, I am sorry. I've recently been busy trying to integrate myself into the life of a normal person," she replied, dryly.
"Hmm, and how's that going for you?" He wondered, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Well, all I can say is that I've learnt two things." She held up her hand, counting off with her fingers as she spoke. "One; the best place for a decent cup of coffee," she gestured around her to illustrate the point. "And two; that 'normal' is boring."
It was true. Up until a week ago, she had been on a sort of long-term sick leave and had hated every minute of it. Her SHIELD instincts couldn't take a rest. If someone looked at her wrong, she would unconsciously deduce the weak-spots of said person and how many ways she could take them out, courtesy of the lovely Natasha. Normal didn't work for her, even if it had been only temporary.
Phil chucked fondly at her. "Well, I might be able to make things more interesting for you."
Daphne leaned forward in anticipation. "Is it that 'job' you were talking about earlier?"
"It's different but it's not."
"Because that makes sense," she quipped sarcastically.
"By all means, decline and stay living your normal, boring life. I'm offering you something productive to do. Do you want it or not?" He snapped, his patience visibly wearing thin.
The woman sighed before smiling cheekily. "A man after my own heart. What have you got for me?"
He pulled out a file from his briefcase and opened it, showing a picture of a blue, glowing cube that seemed to reek of something dangerous. It put her on edge and a wash of uneasiness spread through her. "This is the Tesseract. An ancient Asgardian artefact of immense power."
She took a gulp of her coffee and glanced up at the middle aged man in bewilderment. Her eyebrows raised in incredulity, trying to push down the discomfort. "It's a box... A box, Phil."
He laughed slightly. "It's a very powerful box, Daph. It was placed under SHIELD's protection to make sure it didn't fall into the wrong hands."
She nodded absent-mindedly, though still apprehensive. If it was as powerful as Phil was suggesting, then Daphne wasn't sure it should be in SHIELD's hands. "I'm assuming the 'protection' didn't work as planned?" she deduced from Phil's serious expression. His gaze fell to the table. She continued when he didn't reply. "Exactly how powerful is this thing?"
"Back in World War two, a man named Johann Schmidt used it to create weapons that could disintegrate humans on touch." He sighed softly when her eyes widened. "Now, it's been taken by an Asgardian god called Loki, along with a SHIELD agent and the astrophysicist, Erik Selvig."
She bristled at the last piece of information. "A SHIELD agent?" Phil nodded, his expression falling. He looked much older all of a sudden.
Daphne tensed when he refused to meet her eyes. "Who?"
The agent sighed heavily before glancing up at her with something akin to sympathy. "Clint Barton."
Daphne exhaled sharply, blue eyes hardening. Clint was a close friend; a mentor - he was the brother she never had. He'd saved her ass multiple times. "Okay, so what do you want me to do? I know I'm good, but does it look like I can take on a god?"
He looked her straight in the eyes, unwavering as he replied. "We want you to join the Avengers Initiative." Her eyes widened at the familiar project and she started to shake her head in protest, but Phil cut her off. "With your gifts, your abilities, you could be a part of saving the world."
"Oh, come on, Phil," she complained exasperatedly. "You know Fury trusts me as far as he can throw me… Probably even less than that."
"Well, if you won't do it for Fury or for SHIELD, do it for the human race. For me. For Barton," he compromised with a pointed look, knowing she couldn't resist it.
She stewed in silence, anxiously nibbling her bottom lip. Saving the world? Was she even capable of contributing towards that? She'd probably end up triggering a worldwide disaster. And even if she did help, she doubted that many would be so appreciative when they realise she's a mutant. But could she stay away, knowing that innocent people would get hurt or killed? And she owed it to Clint. Daphne weighed up her options.
There was practically no decision to make.
"You certainly know how to spice up a girl's life," she smirked. "Where do I sign up?"
They left the coffee shop not long after the impromptu mission briefing. Daphne gratefully accepted a lift back to her apartment, clutching the SHIELD file tight to her chest. The mutant and the agent strolled along the pavement, walking towards Phil's plain, black Sedan. Of course.
Daphne was about to make a snarky comment about his choice of vehicle when she felt a prickling sensation run down her spine. She stiffened and turned, scanning the area quickly. Directly across the road from her was a tall man, dressed all in black with sunglasses on. That was immediately suspicious, considering that the evening was fast approaching. Somehow, through the shades, she could see his sharp gaze pinpointed on her form.
"What is it?" Phil asked concerned at her abrupt halt, looking in the direction of her glare.
She took her eyes off the man for a split-second to glance over at Coulson. When she focused her gaze back to the other side of the road, the mysterious man had disappeared.
Daphne shook her head, mouth slightly agape as she looked up and down the street for the man.
"Nothing," she finally answered, slightly on edge. "I just thought I saw something."
They carried on walking until they reached the car, though Daphne kept throwing glances behind her every so often. She threw herself into the passenger seat of the vehicle and they travelled in silence for a few minutes.
"So, do you have any questions?" Coulson asked softly, as if afraid of breaking through the quiet atmosphere.
"Only a few hundred or so," she responded, watching the sun slowly descend into the horizon. Not that she could see much of it, what with the multitude of skyscrapers that littered New York City.
"Here we go," Phil joked sardonically. "Okay, shoot."
Daphne pondered for a minute. "Do I get a cool superhero name?" She asked in a serious tone, as though discussing the meaning of life.
He couldn't hold in the laugh at her childish query.
"Hey!" she yelled, lightly punching his arm, though the grin contradicted her anger.
"Yes, little Daphy can have a cool name, if she wants," he chuckled. She didn't miss the slightly babyish tone he put on.
"Watch it, Philadelphia," she responded simply, smirking as he glared at the nickname.
They both scowled at each other, though it was in good-nature. All joking aside, Daphne was incredibly grateful that Phil was in her life. He had always played a strong father figure role to her after her parents had been killed. She sighed at the memory, the screams of her mother still unerringly plaguing her nightmares. Phil had been there to pick up the pieces - teaching and comforting her - despite the fact that she carried the 'X gene'.
Soon enough, they arrived at her apartment building. They both stepped out of the car, and Daphne turned to face Coulson when he approached her side. "Thanks for the ride, Phil."
"Someone will be around to take you to the quinjet in the morning. But before I go, I want to give you something." He walked to the boot of the car, opened it, and pulled a large, rectangular package out. He handed it over to her, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"What's this?" She asked cautiously, eyeing the box warily.
"Why don't you open it and see?"
She tucked the file under her arm and hesitated before slowly prying the box open. Her eyes caught onto the sleek fabric inside and darted to Phil in confusion.
"Care to elaborate?"
"You're welcome," he muttered.
"Phil?" She demanded, looking at the knee length black dress with something akin to distaste.
"Well, my dear Daphy, you need to look professional when you recruit Captain America, right? Knowing you, you'd arrive in your pyjamas." He wore a shit-eating grin on his face.
"What?" She sputtered out a laugh. "You're joking. This was that 'job' thing you were talking about?"
"Yep," he beamed. "I'd do it myself, but Fury has got me on something else."
"Yeah, I don't think you'd pull the dress off, to be honest," she replied absently, frowning down at the box in her hands and completely missing Phil's eye roll.
"See you later, sweetheart," he called cheerfully, clambering back into the car and speeding away faster than she thought was necessary. She just stood there, gaping at the back of his retreating vehicle.
Revenge will be sweet.
She climbed the steps to her apartment, grumbling the whole way about lack of communication and different ways of suitable payback. Unlocking her front door, Daphne stalked inside, tossing the file onto the nearby kitchen counter and she started to make a cup of coffee - regardless of the fact that she'd had one not ten minutes before.
While she was waiting for the kettle to boil, she flipped through the file, wanting to absorb as much information as she could. She stopped once she came across the information about Captain America, deciding that she wouldn't read anything on him. She could find out more about him from his own mouth.
She flipped back to the information on the Tesseract, growing progressively more grim about the possibility of it being unleashed onto innocent civilians.
The dress box seemed to mock her from the kitchen counter as she finished making her coffee. She brought the cup into the living room and grabbed her sketchpad to start a new drawing, her head filled with thoughts of the Tesseract, pizza and Captain America. Well, she couldn't complain about boredom anymore.
A/N: This has been edited - but no change to plot, just written a bit better :) - 24.12.22