TOXIC ~ STEVE ROGERS [1]

Chapter Ten

It was another hour till someone came for me.

My hair had dried, my phone had charged, and my backpack was packed completely in the chance that I would have to leave. I had paced the room a million times, yelled, screamed at the camera in the corner till my throat was raw. I didn't know what was happening, or if I would ever get out of that room.

My answer came in the form of dark haired woman, leather jacket on and earpiece in ear.
May.

"Please, can you tell me-"
May interupted.

"We gotta go. Now," I gripped my backpack tight as she grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room, and I to the hallway. Men and women rushed about, throwing cautious glances my way. We ran through through the hallways until we reached what looked like an aircraft hanger, with a few large, silver jets inside. At the end of the hanger, a large concrete door was opening, and combined with the noise of the jet being turned on, make quite a racket. May dragged me to one of the jets, and when the silver door glided down she shoved me onto it.

"Subject is secure. On her way to you Sir," May yelled into her earpiece.

Subject?

"Don't worry! You'll be safe!" She yelled,and pushed a small transparent screen into my arms. I was just about to yell something back, but the door closed and the sound of engines was muffled. I stepped back from the door, and let my backpack slip from my shoulders to the ground with a thud.

My hands were tingling, and lightning zapped up and down my spine.
What was happening? Where were Fitzsimmons? We hadn't finished testing, I still didn't know what I was doing.

The jet was gliding smoothly through the air. I went up to the cockpit. The pilot was a older man, with a scruffy beard and brown eyes. They reminded me of what my eyes used to look like.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked harshly.

"I'm afraid that classified, Miss," he replied gruffly.

"Oh wow, no shit," I exclaimed sarcastically. I plopped down in one of the black leather seats on the side of the jet, pulling my backpack towards me and resting it against my legs.

Just when I thought I might have sorted this, this, thing out, life decided to be a bitch.
Again.

The pilot and I didn't talk most of the way there. Most questions I asked had answers that were 'classified' so in the end I just gave up.

About 20 minutes into the flight, I decided to try and turn on the screen May had given me. It was high tech, the kind of thing that was called 'experimental tech' to the public but was used by government organizations and people like Tony Stark all around the world.

After tapping the screen in all possible places, it suddenly lit up.

"Fingerprint scan required," a robotic automated voice said loudly from the screen, startling me. A small box appeared on the screen, with the symbol of a thumbprint on it.

"Fingerprint scan required," the voice repeated.

"Alright, calm down," I muttered and placed my thumb on the screen. Light flashed around it and the screen opened up to a home page.

"Keight Walsh, Gifted individual, Level 6 Clearence," the voice said. I didn't touch anything, and the screen opened up onto a page with 6 names going down the page. They were underlined, which meant they were files.

"Keight Walsh, you have been selected to aid SHIELD in this time of need. Director Fury could not be here to tell you in person, and he sends his apologies." The automated voice said in monotone.

"What the hell does 'in the time of need' mean?" I asked the screen.

"You have been classed as a Gifted Individual, who is uniquely equipped to take on any and all tasks, including potential global catastrophe, too great for regular law enforcement."

"Uh, ok, this is a joke, right? I'm just-" I started but was interrupted by the dull automated voice.

"Please read the files loaded to this device, to ensure you are fully prepared for your task."

Fully prepared. FULLY PREPARED. I was in no way prepared for anything, least of all some potential global catastrophe I was being roped into fighting.

"Please read the files before you arrive at your destination," the voice stated. Sighing in frustration, I opened the first file.

Agent Clint Barton aka Hawkeye

Images flashed across the screen, arrows flying and the twang of a bow.
Archer. Got it.

Natasha Romanoff aka The Black Widow

Highly skilled. Deadly.

Keight Walsh.

Pretty much nothing in my own file, which I was relieved about, but it did give my 'life story', which I'd have to memorize to make sure no one suspected anything.

Doctor Bruce Banner aka the Hulk

Large green monster. That one's new.

Captain Steve Rogers aka Captain America.

My heart started beating faster when I read that name. So it was true. The real Captain America was alive, 70 years since he crashed his plane into the ice. I opened the file, and read through it's extensive contents.

I finished his file, and moved onto the last one. I almost yelled out in frustration when I read the name.

Tony Stark aka The Ironman.

I flicked through his file. I already knew a chunk about him, having lived in the same city and seen the Ironman myself. The most surprising fact was his father, Howard Stark, was a founding member of SHEILD.

I can't say I hated Tony Stark. I didn't know him, so saying I hated him would be unfair. But, I did dislike him, even though I'd never met the man. Even when I sold my picture to him, he had someone called Happy take care of all the arrangements, rather than meet me himself.
He was arrogant, and cocky, and self absorbed.
And I would be working with him.

"Thank you for completing the files. I will now brief you on the mission," the voice said.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," I snapped sarcastically.

"In a research SHEILD base, an object of alien origin known as the Tessaract was being studied. It opened up a portal into space....." The voice carried on while I listened absentmindedly.
Alien object.
Stolen.
Alien known as Loki, brother of Thor.
Must find.

"Your mission is to find the Tessaract, and apprehend the individual known as Loki. Please report to Agent Romanoff when you arrive at your destination." The screen went black. I placed the screen on the seat next to me and opened up my backpack and pulled out a cigarette. With the flick of a flame, I inhaled the nicotine.

"Miss, I don't think your allowed to smoke in here," the pilot interrupted.

"Are you going to try stop me?" I barked.

"No Miss," he said reluctantly.

"Then shut up," I snapped and leant back against the chair, closing my eyes and sucking back a drag of smoke.

There was a raw, gnawing feeling in my stomach. Everytime I let my mind drift, it drifted back to the man I killed in the alley.
It was guilt I was feeling.

I hadn't had time to feel anything since it happened, everything happening in such a rush that it was until that moment it really hit me.

I was a murderer.

I'd killed someone, blown their head off, bang, gone. A family right now would be one less a member, and it was all my fault.

The gnawing feeling in my stomach grew into a painful beast that grabbed at my soul with it's white hot claws and made my hands tremble more than my cursed power did.
It made me feel less human, and more monster, and I hated myself for it.