The escapee - Marvel

Chapter 82 - Handlers

Wow what a crazy turn of events!! I've actually updated this story. Madness I know. I want to finish it and I feel super bad for leaving anyone reading hanging without an ending of any sort. However, having only just remembered it exists I have a slight dilemma, I don't remember the specifics of half the details needed to finish the fic. Issue I know. Therefore I'm going to take it upon myself to reread the entire thing, but if anyone feels like there's some crucial points I should know, please feel free to send me a message into my inbox so I can start compiling a list. That would be most useful. Anyway, I can't promise when it'll next be updated, it really depends on how fast I can read and what I remember but hopefully it'll be soon.

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Seven stared at the list for a moment until she realised it wasn't actually her own name she was looking for. She found herself in the penultimate group, listed under Hill M - Dept C. A small number beside her name reading 23.

Great. Hard to keep a low profile when you're training underneath the deputy commander. She had done her research on these people and Maria Hill had the reputation steelier than most. She had been hoping for James Stevenson, or even Melinda May. She had hoped to avoid the deputy commander due to her status, and Barton due to him being a direct link to the avengers.

Now she studied the list harder, noticing a discrepancy. Anya had given her a profile on each of the possible handlers to study, and Agent Stevenson was missing. Instead there was a different name: Romanoff N - A.

Suddenly hit with a sharp pain in the back of her head, she moved away from the list, massaging her temples.

Seven grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, chalking the headache up to possible dehydration or something. She rummaged in her pocket and popped two quick Tylenols, downing half a bottle of water on her way to the elevator with the other recruits.

Eventually, Seven managed to locate her room. Apparently the number beside her name had been an indicator of her room number, which had taken her an embarrassingly long time to figure out.

She was off her game today. She blamed the headache.

The further she had gotten from the list, the more the pain had begun to ease. Seven silently thanked the Tylenol and dumped her bag on her bed, taking in the surroundings.

The main room consisted of her single bed, a desk, and a wardrobe with a long mirror hung on the back. The walls were all white and she had a window facing out into the city. She also had a small bathroom off to the side of the room and she took to unpacking the very few belongings she had bothered to bring with her.

She imagined that most of the other recruits would have things from home. A picture book, a few ones to put up perhaps, maybe even some useless sentimental clutter to decorate with. Seven hadn't bothered to bring anything from the safe house. She unpacked her spare set of the SHEILD uniform and added it to the countless other pieces that were already in her wardrobe and she pulled out a pair of shorts to chuck on, anticipating some training coming her way.

She popped her few toiletries in the bathroom and looked at her watch, realizing she still had fifteen minutes to kill until she needed to be back at the orientation area.

Tentatively, she pulled the hoodie out of her rucksack and rubbed her thumb along the soft material, still confused on to what had drawn her to bring it. Before she could think too hard about it she hung it in the wardrobe and shut the door, forced to stare at her own reflection in the mirror. Her blonde hair was still wrapped perfectly underneath her hat and sunglasses, but she disregarded the two and changed into her SHEILD shorts.