Falling for the Enemy || Captain America || Book 1

Chapter 7: Must've Been Friends With Houdini

EDITED :)

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          Apparently volatile, (probably) mentally unstable, adorable, sexy assassins such as moi are enough to put SHIELD, the Fantastic Four and the Avengers on edge. Why, you ask? Haven't the faintest idea, I answer. Ask the author, she's the one who made me so over-powered in the first place.

          The never-ending halls of the SHIELD Hellicarrier twist and turn and stray from one another like a labyrinth, twisting one's mind nearly as much as the halls do themselves. Despite not all members of each team currently present, the Fourth of July Stripper, the Tinman, the Fourth of July Stripper look-alike aka Tinkerbelle, Big Bird and Patchy the Pirate can't seem to get enough of me, hence how we ended up here, the five of them and an additional ten SHIELD agents escorting me to my undoubtedly charming cell.

          With so many floors and levels between myself and freedom, I just know that to get the hell out of Dodge, I'm going to have to kindly ask each floor to burn a hole in itself so I can mosey on outta here. In other words, I'm gonna rock the shit out of this Hellicarrier as I blast hot enough fire to burn and eat through the metal like acid.

          Fun times, yeah?

          Growing tired of the strangling silence sitting between us all, I decide they haven't heard enough of my melodic voice today. "Left, left, left right, right left, right on left," I imitate a soldier in a deep, patronising voice, immediately receiving agitated glances from the ichi member of the Fantastic Freak Show and the san members of Earth's Mightiest Weirdos.

          I shrug, the cuffs eating into my wrists. "What? Y'all don't have any entertainment up in here. Oh! I know something that oughta provide quality entertainment." Sucking in a large breath, seconds later I begin to belt out what probably will result with me being thrown off the Hellicarrier.

          "One hundred bottles of beer on the wall, one hundred bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall. Ninety nine—"

          Patchy's single eye swivels to land and start burning into me. "Shut. It."

          Well, evidently it's someone's time of the month.

          Eventually, we reach a large, metallic door that parts to reveal a cell that for some strange reason reminds me of a cylindrical fish bowl. I know I'm quite a catch guys, but seriously?

          Face scrunching at the faint familiarity of it, as two agents take their time guiding me towards it, I snort upon recalling where I've seen it before. "Isn't this the cell you kept that Loki-motion God in? The one who could petition for a L'Oreal ad?" Upon Barton's affirming nod, my grin merely broadens. "Didn't he escape?"

          You can hear crickets chirping it's fallen so quiet in here.

          The closer I get to the cell, I begin to discern another person ensnared in there. It doesn't take long for the familiar face of Samuel Hemmings – my new partner in crime right after Ally – childishly sitting cross-legged and making shadow puppet shapes with his hands, the power-restricting cuffs also wrapped securely around his wrists. Upon noticing me, a goofy, large grin lights up his tanned face. "Ah, fancy seeing you here Lilly. What brings you to these here parts of town?"

          My shoulders shrug on their own accord, hand flippantly waving him off. "Oh, you know me, ever the traveller. Heard this was quite the quality establishment, absolutely charming around this time of year. This particular tourist attraction even kept that Pesky-Humans-Kneel-Before-The-God-That-Wasn't-Good-Enough-For-Daddy-To-Give-Me-The-Throne-So-I'll-Invade-Another-Planet-Instead guy from Asgard."