𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.
♥︎♥︎♥︎
Beverly experiences a flood of memories when she is under cryo. Every sensation from her past - touch, smell, tear, kiss, and emotion-resurfaces in exactly the same form. S...
With my new supplies in my hands, hanging in the bottom of the plastic bag, I walk out of the art store. The sky is dark, the previous sun slowly falling and allowing the moon to rise. A blanket of stars begins to form in the sea of dark blue. With a spring in my step, I walk down the street, happy to finally have my new art supplies.
Since Bucky left for war, I've been trying to find things to distract me from his absence. I started reading books, choosing a few from his bedroom. But, I find it hard to sit still and read, my mind constantly running places. The books would remind me of Bucky, and I would have to shut it before I cried into the pages.
Then, I tried art. At first, it worked well. I would be sat painting in my room for hours, time going slowly as the paint strokes against the canvas. Without planning anything, I would paint whatever came into my mind, mostly inspired by Bucky. There are countless amounts of blue paintings in my room now. It worked really well until I ran out of supplies. I used all my tubes of paint, ruined my paintbrush bristles, and ran out of blank canvases.
Steve has come over a few times, sitting on my bed and reading. I would paint as he reads, the room always in comfortable silence. We didn't need to speak, only being in the same room together was enough. Just knowing that we had each other was getting us through it.
Now, with my new supplies, I stroll down the street, towards my house. The streetlights guide me through the roads, the place empty of cars and people. Except for a small group of men across the street, watching me walk. A few of them whistle, the quiet wind making the noise travel.
"Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing out here all alone at night?" One of them shouts.
I ignore them, putting my head down and continuing to walk away. Hearing that they don't like that, I start to pick up the pace. I ignore all the noise coming from them, just trying to get to my destination unharmed. I can hear them walking across the street, their boisterous voices giving away their location. Their heavy footsteps follow behind me, them being very close to me.
My arm gets grabbed, and my body is pulled backwards. The group circles around me, I'm in the centre, and my arm is still being held by the leader. He smiles down at me, the wicked sight almost scaring me. Almost.
"Just leave me alone." I pull my hand out of his grasp.
I turn my body, trying to squeeze past two of them and leave the situation. Their shoulders touch, not letting me get through. They all stand closer to each other, the window of escape slimming. I get pushed back into the centre of the circle, their gazes all over my body. The main one strokes my arm, his hand falling down to my waist. He holds my body inappropriately, thinking that he owns it.
"Why don't you come with me, honey? I can show you a good time." He smirks, his face getting closer to my skin.
He smells my neck, my natural scent and perfume wafting up his nose. He moans at the smell, the other men getting giddy and excited. I turn my head, pushing my body away from his. Once again, I get my body out of his grip, my face stuck in an angry expression. Their attitude angers me, men think that they can take advantage of women just because they are women. Funnily enough, women aren't objects that you can just sleep with, abuse, and sexualise.
"Let. Me. Go." With every word, I get closer to him. "For your own good."
The men break into a crowd of laughter, the noise surrounding me. They hackle loudly, astounded at my comment. The main man reaches over to me again, trying to grab my arm. Having had enough, I grab his wrist which almost touched my skin, twisting it harshly. He groans in pain, his body falling with the angle I'm holding him. The laughter stops, and the atmosphere falls silent. I grab my purse that's around my shoulders, swinging it in the air and across his face. He holds his cheek, the sound of the items inside hitting him hard. There are keys, a few spare coins, and a mirror inside. That's got to hurt. I open my purse, pulling out the final item at the top. I push the nozzle of the can, the pepper spray squirting into his eyes. Screaming in pain, he alerts the other men to run away in fear.
Just me and him now, I stand over his body, it lying on the pavement. He rubs his eyes, trying to get the spray out of them. He crawls on the floor, trying to escape, but can't see. I grab his shirt, crouching down to face him and get in his face.
"Don't ever touch or talk to a woman like that again." I threaten. "Or I can promise you, you will regret it."
Letting go of his shirt, he scrambles to his feet, stumbling down the street. I chuckle at his stance, the sudden change in his manner funny to me. He was once a confident, cocky idiot, and then after a few minutes with me, he turns into a whimpering, pathetic little boy. I put my pepper spray back in my purse, straightening it up on my shoulder. I fit my hair, rubbing the skin on my arm. He left a red mark with how hard his grip was.
From behind me, the sound of the clapping of hands alerts me. I slowly turn, seeing a small woman standing at the end of the street. She walks towards me, a wide smile plastered on her face. She stops clapping when she stands in front of me, allowing me to see her fully. Her hair is pinned up, ginger and shiny. She is wearing a blue dress, tight around her curvy body. She has bright red high-heeled, beige tights on her slim legs.
"I'm impressed. Any other woman would have let that play out. But you, you fought back." She speaks, her voice British.
"Thank you?" I say cautiously.
"Quick thinking, I liked it." She smiles.
"Who are you, and why were you watching?" I question.
"I'm Peggy." She reaches out her hand, shaking mine. "And I think you have the potential to be something more. Something important."
"Something more?" I ask.
"I'm an agent. An agent of a secret service. And from what I just saw, you could become one."
"Excuse me, what? An agent?" I raise my eyebrows.
"Yes, an agent."
"Right. And why do you think I could become one?"
"You remind me of me. I was once like you, strong but seen as weak. Smart but seen as dumb. Worthy but seen as less. And I've become more than all of that. So can you."
The conversation falls silent, her waiting for my response. But, I don't have one. I don't even know what to say. She holds the conversation well, her confidence strong. I, on the other hand, am a nervous wreck. My mind is swimming in multiple different oceans, drowning in each of them. Noticing this, she takes control of the conversation again.
"I will get in contact, soon. You can tell me your answer then..." She waves her hand at me, expectedly.
"Beverly. Beverly Stark." I finish her sentence.
"Stark, so you defiantly have the smarts." She smirks.
"Oh, no. That's all my brother."
"We'll see."
"No, really, I-"
"We'll test you on your brain as long as your brawns." She interrupts my self-criticism. "But, you can't speak a single word of this. To anyone."
