Since I can't seem to give any answers to any of the questions that are still open at the moment (like - who helped Xandra escape and why?), here is the next chapter which will maybe make things more clear or maybe even more complicated.

Disclaimer: I still only own Xandra, the other characters are only borrowed.

Chapter 25: Run run run

When she woke up, the woman felt a lot better, far better than one should feel after only two hours of sleep. After refreshing herself in the bathroom and properly applying the make-up she had bought, she went to search for some snacks in the kitchen - apparently her metabolism had changed, too, if her nearly constant appetite was any indication. When she was just rummaging through a cupboard that held the cereal (Cocopops?!), she suddenly felt something that definitely did not belong there - a wire. With a smile, she pulled something out that she identified as a secure line - at least she hoped so. There was a keypad disguised in the wall of the cupboard where she entered a number she had memorized years ago. The line crackled, then a familiar voice answered with a gruff voice.

"Identify yourself!"

Quickly, Xandra typed the text into her phone, letting it being red out.

"Alexandra Sophia Edvardson. 0017654 Blue Pegasus," the speaker quaked, "voice was affected."

The voice hummed. "So you made it. Good. We will deal with your voice later, in the meantime you will have to do without. You probably have about an hour, so you will have to move quickly."

"I know that. And I think you owe me some explanations."

Xandra flinched - Unfortunately the artificial voice was totally emotionless and really could not convey how pissed off she was.

Not on the phone," the man - it was a man - answered firmly.

"Take your gear and the car and drive to the little airport outside the city. Name is 'Crowfield Airbase'. Take the plane in hangar six, you have the money to make the men be quiet, I suppose. I will arrange the rest."

"Yes," she confirmed via phone, "so you are finally letting me fly?"

"I didn't let you learn it for nothing," he answered before giving her some coordinates that must place her landing point somewhere in Nevada, if she wasn't totally mistaken.

She knew she didn't have to note them down, Xandra would have no problem remembering them, probably for the rest of her likely rather short life.

"Sir, which car am I supposed to take?," she quickly typed.

"Don't fuck with me girl, I know you have car keys and one of your cars parked in the garage three blocks down. Grey, SUV. Rings a bell?"

She smiled, unfortunately, the phone still sounded unamused. "Did Hill tell you or did you figure it out yourself?"

The man sighed. "You have one weakness, and it is cars - nice cars. When you bought that thing and it suddenly disappeared, I made some inquiries."

"The SUV is not that flashy," she argued back, "also, can you please keep my dear overprotective ex busy?"

"I'll try," the man answered, slight amusement in his voice, "now get your ass out of Hill's flat and on the way."

"Yes, Sir," the woman answered, rolling her eyes towards the ceilingbefore hanging up.

After checking her backpack and adding an ICER and a standard-issue gun together with some cereal bars, she took a pair of (expensive) jeans from the wardrobe and praised herself for her intuition of putting them there almost three years ago. The change of clothes S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided in the vault had only included sweatpants, due to the trenchcoat this had not been that important until now, but she would feel far more comfortable in sturdier trousers. However, she would have never fit into the other female agents' clothes, they were all less curvy then her. Romanoff was, well, maybe a size zero or something, at least so small Xandra's hips would never fit into one of her catsuits. Once upon a time things like that had very much bothered the young woman, especially growing up in a world where money could buy love (or at lesat this was what she had been told when she was little) and beauty was a ressource to be milked. It had taken her years and lots of therapy to realize it was her brain that made her striking, her attitude that made her noteworthy, her wit that made her charming and her loyalty that made her well-liked. Not her body. Not her money. People who only cared about this were never friends, they were just shallow. Looks and fortune were tools, things she learned to use. But tools don't define you - you define them. Xandra winked at her image in the mirror, as she closed the buttons of her (even more expensive) jacket, then she also changed her thin trainers to ankle boots that would survive even a bit of fighting and protect her feet a lot better. Finally, the woman put on the beanie and trenchcoat again. At least it was beanie and trenchcoat, Xandra mused, and not the compination of baseballcap and leather jacket that apparently any fugitive in S.H.I.E.L.D. history had used (she had seen the files). It was weirdly gratifying in its own way.

The door shut with a quiet "click" behind her and she heard the security mechanism lock again. Creeping down the stairs she stopped behind the entrance door, listening. No voices outside, which didn't have to mean anything. But her senses also didn't detect any kind of heartbeat or heat signature, so she decided to take the risk. She casually opened the door to swiftly walk the way to where she had left the car. The garage was fairly full, kind-of-secure parking space was rather limited in the area. Fortunately, she knew exactly where the cameras were, taking care to keep her head down. The only problem was the security guy who took care of the exit. HE was however easily swayed by the excuse of "no time" and a nice smile and let her pass without controlling her ID.

She drove out of the area as quickly as possible, using an old industrial complex as a site to change the number plates on her car. Then she drove back through the city in the other direction - maybe it would confuse S.H.I.E.L.D. for a while, even if they would figure out what car she was driving. Her navigation system told her the air field was 40 minutes away, the information was actually true as she found out with a satisfied smile. As she parked behind one of the sheds and had just dropped trenchcoat and beanie, two men came out of an office building.

"Excuse me Ma'am, this is private!"

She got out of the car, fluffing her hair, and walked towards them. She wordlessly pulled out her ID, raising an eyebrow to wordlessly tell them to be quick.

When the men looked at each other in confusion, she gave them a tight smile, tinted with annoyance.

While one of the men still looked confused, the other one suddenly became very agitated as he checked the name. "Oh well, of course Mrs Halo-Rosnal. We simply were neither expecting you - Actually, we didn't even know Mr Rosnal was married."

Xandra rolled her yes. Mr Rosnald did very much not exist, still, he would prove as useful if she would finally get the plane.

"Well, do you wish to fly yourself?" one man stuttered.

Xandra only gratified this with a court nod.

"Uhm, then we need to check your documents. The pilot licence and all. Why don't we go into my office while my collegue here" - she nodded towards the younger man- "gets your plane ready?"

The woman sighed, but followed him into a rather cosy office. The check was rather boring - of course her documents were forged impeccably.

The man huffed awkwardly. "Do you need help with your luggage?"

She shook her had, inspecting ehr fingernails, seemingly totally uninterested in conversation.

The man gulped but nodded. He had understood, she didn't plan to talk to him any time soon. Well, it was not his business whether she was an entitled bitch or not. To put a trenchcoat, a backpack and a Gucci handbag (that one for show) in a plane only cost a minute. Then she gave the car keys to the younger man, together with a card with an address.

It was of the Rialto, one of the most prestigious hostels in the city. While receiving a check as well, the man nodded earnestly. The lady was clearly a bit weird and very entitled (if pretty), but if she payed that well, he would humour the excentricities. Who knew, maybe she had a tracker installed and knew if he didn't take back the car? Rather not take the risk!

Xandra got into the plane, doing all the necessary checks (if not verbally) and getting more and more excited. When they gave her an ok, she started, letting it get quicker and quicker until she finally left the ground. Ther belly swooped with joy as the world became smaller. She was free - at least for a moment.