Death In My Voice [Severe Editing Era]

Chapter 1

Do you walk in the shadow of men
Who sold their lives to a dream?

▁▂▃▅▆▇▉▊▆▃▂▁

The numbers on the electronic alarm clock changed to half past seven in the morning, and the device issued a monotonous beep. 

With a groan, I sleep mask and crawl out from under the blanket. The morning sun, breaking through from behind the curtains, immediately blinds me, and for a few moments, I hide under the pillow.

All you have is to get up.

That's hard as hell, I know.

I roll up in a warm terry robe, on the wayfinding slippers. Most people think that people with abilities who save someone almost every day are not at all people in the general sense. That is, we all get up vigorous and shining every morning and always get enough sleep.

This is not entirely true.

That's not true at all.

I can argue that the morning of every Avenger is not on the mission begins like everyone else. 

I don't know if I can be considered a member of the Avengers, but still.

Looking in the mirror, I immediately want to turn away: (Y/e/c) eyes are still not adapted to the light and are strangely squinting. Furthermore, the (Y/h/c) hair lies in a bizarre position.

When men say they like natural female beauty, let them accept the morning version.

The tea is ready, the flakes are filled with milk, and the sandwich is spread with melted cheese. All this is eaten in a few minutes, and today I even managed to wash the dishes. I open the window, let the fresh morning air in, and breathe deeply.

Although it's hard to call my work an office chore, I still wear tight, tapered navy pants and a light white sleeveless blouse. Spring finally came into its own, and every day it was warm by one or two degrees so that the raincoat can be replaced with a simple jacket.

It always seems to me that this city never sleeps. Whenever I go on it, it's still the same: droning cars, late and a lot of diverse young people. I live, in fact, not so far from my place of work, so save a lot of money on transport. 

Useful, and often pleasant. True, often late due to this.

Jon calmly drank coffee from a vending machine downstairs and was very surprised when he saw me at such an hour, quietly stepping towards the elevator.

''Your pass, miss.''

I'm shaking the shiny plastic card as if it were a trophy, and I go into the elevator booth. Yawning several times before getting to the right floor, I go out. It is precisely nine o'clock in the morning.

''Friday?'' I call new electronic assistant Stark.

''Yes, Miss Y/l/n?''

''Are any of the twins already awake?''

What a cool laboratory I have, even a coffee machine is available. I pour a glass of coffee with amaretto while waiting for an answer.

''Only Miss Wanda Maximoff.''

''Then call her.''

''She's already coming.''

''Danke.''

I am looking for my bathrobe while waiting for Wanda. Why am I still wearing it? Stark doesn't wear it, and it would be good to sell Friday to lonely people who have no one to talk to ...