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Chapter 2 – Your MO
Inside the small quinjet hurtling through the air at impressive speeds, Ophelia sat anxiously. The young French girl didn't deal well with awkward silences at all. Her hands shuffled a deck of cards she'd managed to swipe from a boy as he tried to flirt with her.
Poor guy didn't stand a chance, Ophelia's type was decidedly more woman than him.
"So...have you read any good books lately?"
"Don't."
Small talk was another thing Ophelia didn't do well at.
Fury kept his eye on the street fighter during the entire flight, whether to make her uncomfortable for his own entertainment or psych her out Ophelia didn't know but she was desperate to break the uncomfortable atmosphere.
"Do you really have to wear that much leather? The whole dominatrix get-up is a little excessive."
Fury sighed with annoyance as she continued to shuffle the deck of cards, her nervous energy translating to random fidgeting.
"Given that it's saved my life a few times, I think I'm keeping the leather." He drawled with a deadpan voice.
"If you're going to get brutally murdered, don't go out looking like an emo pirate cosplay."
"I'd appreciate it if you stopped insulting my clothes Miss Delacour."
"And I'd appreciate it if you stopped staring at me Mr Fury, but we can't all get what we want." Ophelia shuffled her cards at a faster pace as she raised her eyebrows at the SHIELD director, looking petulantly at him.
Fury continued to stare at her, burrowing a hole in her skull with his gaze.
"Stop doing that!" She whined at him.
"Why have you got an M.O?" She was brought up short with his question, pausing her shuffling and sitting up straighter.
"I'm sorry, what are you talking about?" She asked in confusion.
Her interactions with the secretive and distrustful spy have left her in nothing but a state of frustration. She couldn't quite pinpoint his thoughts or his intentions with her, closed off and aloof Ophelia was left grasping at straws with Fury, and that infuriated her to no end. She was used to being the one who dealt the cards, not the player in the game.
Fury moved forward a slight bit, resting his elbows on his knees as he continued to scrutinise Ophelia from the other side of the quinjet. His gaze taking a more speculative turn.
"In most cases vigilantes aren't exactly picky with the crimes they stop. They react to situations already happening around them." Fury spoke, his face scrunched in concentration.
"Typically, they're looking for people to save. But you're looking for people to punish. To exact justice on. All the criminals that you've stopped fit a niche category; rapists, traffickers, kidnappers, abusers, pedophiles." Ophelia's expression darkened with each criminal that Fury described.
