We're in a black metal jet, sitting in rows opposite to each other. Miss Johnson is there, her short, wavy hair perfectly put into place like she was attending the Oscar's instead of a mission. Or maybe she just thinks it's important to look beautiful when dying, who knows? People say there should be dignity in death. Her brown eyes are covered by shorter lashes, and despite the eyeliner, she wears relatively natural make-up. The woman next to her wears almost none. It is the Asian one I met before, and she is called May. From what my researches told me, the brunette's first name is Melinda, and she's the best fighter Coulson's team contains. A seat next to her, the young man from the labs sits. The short, curly-haired blonde is named Fitz – it's his surname. He's rarely in field, but evidently, Coulson's team lacks of members. From the looks of it, he still hasn't forgiven me for stealing his phone; gazes are thrown at me like I was the greatest sinner in the history of his priest.
I couldn't care less. It's not like I exactly would want to be part of this team, or of any team. The Crimson Club's rules were simple: get a mission, complete the mission. Sometimes alone, sometimes with people in your back. Difference is, even gathered in group, everyone's first priority was their own survival. You clear your own way, and with luck, the others walked along the same so you kill two birds with one stone. If not, you still first clear your own, get your own safe passage outside, and then consider your chances of living while the probability of freeing the others. If it wasn't worth it, you didn't go.
These people would.
It always felt wrong; not that I would ever admit it. To leave people behind isn't my style, which is why I mostly picked missions where I'm on my own or someone like Raphael would have my back on a computer, from a safe place. One time it was that I actually did go in a group, and while everyone else left me to run into the burning building and rescue one of the members, this bitter truth nearly eroded my throat. And still, I searched inside that building, just to find the others already dead because people from my group ran away too early.
One could think S.H.I.E.L.D. would be more right for me, then. Maybe even something similar to fitting. But it wasn't. S.H.I.E.L.D. would never be, as less as everything having to do with it.
Nobody says a word as we land, making our way via car to the building that is stormed by Hydra agents on the search for this weapon. The sky is clouded today, and the temperature low for the middle of November. No snow, but the trees already have lost all their leaves, making the atmosphere almost spooky. I then overlisten conversations between the others, something about a guy named Lincoln, Simmons in the lab. Nothing important, so I soon enough pay my attention to our environment, trying to draw a map inside my head to know how to escape if the mission didn't proceed as hoped for.
»Hey« Agent May snaps her fingers from the other side. Her cold tone sounds like scolding, although I honestly haven't done a thing wrong. To now. Regarding her. »We only need you as back up. Don't interfere.«
»And if you should miraculously get your hands onto the weapon; don't open it. The fluid inside is acidic, for skin and muscles as well as bones, and it spreads, feeding from cell to cell.« Fitz elaborates, rather to the others than to me, for what reason I don't react in the least.
Unwillingly, Agent Johnson pulls out a gun from behind her back stiffly. »I can't believe Coulson is real about this.« She hands it out for me, and without hesitation in fear she could somehow decide not to obey her boss, I snatch the gun from her hands and push it into the waistband of my jeans on my back.
Nobody answers her, so I decide to try my luck. Not that I was very hopeful for anything, but I wouldn't miss the chance. »I'm better with daggers. 'Got one for me?«
Ignorance hovers over from the others after all of their attention retreats from me, eyes widened probably simply because I raised my voice in their companionship for the very first time. However, I do not get a dagger.
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Cherry || b.barnes
Fanfiction»In which she doesn't know whether she will use the knife to end him or protect him.« ------------------ Promises. They are maybe the mightiest thing there is in this world. Being able to fulfill you with electric ecstasy on the end of the aisle in...