Project: NIGHTWAVE

I

This was it, the day I have been training for all my life. Looking up from the cold, white floor of the Pristina International Airport, I handed my passport containing my new identity to a smiling, approximately 35 year old woman with two children. I could get all that and more from her clothes and facial expressions, another part of my thorough training. After a few seconds she was done examining my passport, she handed it back to me, and I forced a fake smile. To be completely honest, she looked quite good for her age; long brown hair, big hazel eyes and narrow lips. I was a little bit jealous of her family and her normal life. "Am I going to have a family in 20 years?" I asked myself. That thought forced a little sarcastic laugh over my lips. Of course I was not going to have a family. Not now, not ever. I was built to kill, no one would ever love someone like me.

Without realizing, I had reached the aircraft. I was snapped out of my depressing thoughts by the obnoxiously cheery voice of the flight attendant. He greeted me with a thick Serbian accent, trying to sound American. I nodded politely and walked past him, avoiding eye contact, trying to find my seat. The airplane smelled like an old couch after a summer rain and there was practically no leg room. I made my way to the back, searching for my seat. Looking down at my crumpled up ticket, I could make out the seat number: 19C. Since it was a rather small plane, it was in the very back. I sat next to a tall and skinny teenage boy with dirty blonde hair, that touched his chin (which wasn't shaven), who couldn't stop staring at me, so I plugged in my worn out earphones and tried to zone out. I silently cursed myself for leaving all my weapons in my luggage, because the boy was starting to get on my nerves and that was basically the only way I knew how to get rid of people, who piss me off.

Being lost in the music and my thoughts, I didn't realize the aircraft was about to take off until the flight attendant grabbed my shoulder to get my attention. As my first impulse, I grabbed his arm and twisted it a little too hard. As soon as I realized what I had done, I let him go and he told us, in a shaky voice, "You need to turn off all your electric devices and watch the safety demonstration". Putting on my sincerest smile I said to him, "I'm so sorry about that, you just startled me and I don't know what happened. Thank you for the information, sir." The steward turned around and hurried off while the teenager looked at me in horror and disbelief. I turned to him and said, in perfect Serbian: " Ви ћете ти и горе, ако не престане да буљи." He quickly turned his back on me and stared out of the window intently. Right after out little chat the pilot greeted us and said we would arrive at Newark Liberty International Airport at 5 am local time. "This is it, I'm actually going to try out to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent," was the last thought that ran through my mind before drifting off to sleep.

I was woken up by a horrible turbulence. My muscles tensed automatically as I was looking for something to hold on to. Although I wasn't afraid of pain nor death, the whole atmosphere made me alert and ready to fight for my life. Fortunately it stopped as soon as it had started and I could relax and sink into my seat again. After a while, the pilot spoke again in a thick Serbian accent: "We will be landing in New York shortly. The weather is cool and cloudy. Thank you for flying with Air Serbia and we hope to see you again," and the seat belt light turned on. I buckled the belt and suddenly I felt it; my hands were slowly going numb and I started shaking. "This can't be happening," I said to myself, "I can't be having a panick attack right now." I gripped the sides of the chair so hard my knuckles turned white and my nails were pressed into the rough fabric. I slowed my breathing and tried to calm myself down. These were happening more and more often after Sofia. I needed to get my anxiety under a watertight control, if I wanted to be a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.

After landing in the NYC airport, I went to the baggage claim area, which was weirdly crowded. After scanning the room for potential threats like always, I found two men with abnormally big bulges under their jackets and earpieces,standing in the far left corner of the area. Ready to engage, I casually walked over the luggage line and waited for my red suitcase filled with deadly weapons. As I stood there, the men started to slowly move towards me and all the alarm bells went off in my head. I tightened my fists and relaxed my neck, thinking of ways to escape as quickly and silently as possible - my usual routine before a challenging fight. Fortunately for me and for them, they walked past me and asked the thin teen boy, who had sat next to me on the plane, to go with them. "Probably drugs," I thought to myself. After about a 15 minute wait, I saw my luggage make its way to me on the conveyor belt so I quickly grabbed it and made my way into the chilly morning. Once outside, I hailed a cab to take me to a hostel.