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14 | fury-ous

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fury-ous

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"Stay here? Yeah, right," Cara grumbled to herself after Steve left the room. He'd asked J.A.R.V.I.S. to lock the door behind him, and she didn't doubt that the mechanical voice had obeyed him.

But she wanted to be out there, meeting whoever this Fury guy was. It frustrated her--only a little bit, she told herself--that while they were giving her a place to live, they were also apt to treating her like a child that needed to be restrained. What was the problem with having fun? That's all she wanted to do, have fun.

"Girls just wanna have fun. I guess that's true," she chuckled to herself, the old Cindy Lauper song ringing around in her head.

She stood up from the bed and decided that if she was going to be stuck in here, she'd at least investigate what really made Steve Rogers tick.

The small picture caught her attention first. Cara crawled across the bed to get nearer, and stared at the old faded picture, but still recognized the beauty and strength that had stayed clear during all those years.

"Good choice, Gramps," she said to herself, and then moved on to look at what else was there.

Other than the two decorations above the bed, though, nothing much else occupied Steve's room. Which disappointed her, but only a little bit.

Quickly becoming bored, Cara called out, "Uh...J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"What can I do for you, Miss Jansen?" The male, accented voice responded.

Cara inhaled sharply, choking on her spit in the process. After a short coughing fit, she answered, taken aback. "How do you know my last name? I haven't told anyone."

"That's true," the wise-sounding voice replied. "But I am rather clever when it comes to identification, and I took it upon myself to run a test."

"You ran tests on me? Without me knowing?" She said in disbelief, not knowing where to look. Really, she was talking to...what? The wall? The whole tower? "That's a clear violation of privacy, and I don't appreciate it," she said, crossing her arms.

"I sincerely apologize, but I'm afraid it's in my programming."

She rolled her eyes, giving up on the conversation. "What am I even doing, talking to a voice in the walls?"

"I am not just a voice," J.A.R.V.I.S. objected, and she imagined that if he were real flesh and blood, he'd give her a cold stare. "I am an existence, a brain living inside this tower. Of course, that's all thanks to Mr. Stark."

"Living inside the tower? Yeah, that's not creepy at all," Cara mumbled. "It makes you sound like you're constantly lurking around--which you probably are."

The mechanical voice had a smirk imbedded in it as he answered, "I am always here to assist Mr. Stark and his friends."

"Well, I'm one of Tony's friends, so would you mind unlocking this door for me?" She asked, placing her hand on the knob.

"I'm afraid I've been given other orders. Mr. Rogers wishes for you to remain in this room until he returns. Which may be awhile, so please, get comfortable," J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice was so real, it was scary.

Cara wasn't done trying, though. Not after one shot at it. She tried to manually unlock the door, but it seemed that there was some other type of internal lock that had been activated at Steve's request. "J.A.R.V.I.S., unlock this damn door before I go all Avengers on your ass."

"Take note that I don't have one, Miss Jansen," he replied.

"Don't call me that," she spat, "I'm Cara, just Cara."

"As you wish...Cara," he responded, and the teen was happy to finally gain the upper hand in the conversation.

So she tried again. "I just want to meet this Fury guy, see who he is. That's all. Just open the door."

"I...very well," he caved in after a long pause.

"Thank you," she breathed, and tried the door again, which opened.

She crept out, following a chorus of voices that came from the living room. She could make out the deep rumble of Thor's undertones, the strong, accusatory sound of Natasha's voice, and the even tone that was Steve's.

But among it all, there was a new voice that belonged to a man she didn't know.

Fury, whoever the guy was.

She reached the entrance to the living room and stared out at the small group of her friends. And facing her was a dark-skinned, one-eyed man clad in a black coat.

Cara made no noise, unmoving. But that one eye, that terrifying one eye, zeroed in on her, and grew colder as the man that it belonged to realized who she was--or, rather, who she wasn't.

"Who the hell is that?" He asked sharply in a deep voice.

Steve turned in her direction, his face falling. "I told you to stay," he said lowly.

"Well, I'm not a dog, what did you expect?" She said, and brought herself into full view of all the Avengers and the visitor. She held her hand out as she neared him. "Hi, I'm Cara, the kid they're babysitting."

She watched as they all ducked their heads from the one-eyed man's view, Nat rubbing her temples in annoyance.

Fury ignored her, though, and glared at Steve. "You've been keeping her here? Under my nose?"

"Look, I can explain. I understand if you're angry--" Steve held his hands out.

"Angry?" He said sharply. "I'm not angry. I'm beyond angry."

Cara seized the chance to make a pun. "I guess you could say that you're...fury-ous, then, right?" She glanced around to her friends, waiting for a collective giggle, but all she got was a strong glare from the man himself. "Damn, dude," she commented, "for having one eye, you've got a pretty mean glare."

"Thank you," he said lowly, and Cara could tell that she wasn't going to be able to get out of this one with a joke or sarcastic remark. This time, she was I some deep shit.

She watched, unable to say or do anything, as he pointed a finger at her, like she wasn't even there, and said, "I want her gone by tomorrow morning. She's compromising all of our future operations by being here, learning all of our secrets. How much have you told her?"

"Enough," Cara stood up for herself, crossing her arms.

"Cara, please stop talking." Steve looked at her meaningfully, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Go back to where you were."

Sighing, she stomped out of the room, and back to Steve's bedroom where she plopped herself back down on his bed, awaiting her fate that wasn't being determined by herself, but by Jack Sparrow and Uncle Sam.