DELIRIUM- MARVEL

• NINE •

1953

Cassandra ran through the course. Targets popped up at her, and she shot them with perfect accuracy. She crossed the line, and the targets reset. Cassandra set the gun on the weapons table, and sat on the metal bench. A man stood in front of her, his name was Frank.

"I see you're keeping yourself busy," he said, motioning to the training course.
"Well I don't really have anywhere to go do I?"
"I'm just saying, I don't know how you keep yourself from being bored."
"You obviously haven't spent days shackled to a bed with nowhere to go and no one to talk to." She said looking up at him.
"Hm. Ya know, come to think of it, we don't have many new Cassandras here anymore." Frank noticed.
"Yeah well, evidently Hydra doesn't have a very good track record with KBG girls do they?"

Cassandra got up and walked out. She jogged down the stairs to her "room." It wasn't much of room, it was really more of a cell. There was a small bed, a toilet, sink, and a  nightstand. She knew Frank was only trying to be friends with her, but she wasn't very good at those. So she shut him away, by being sarcastic, and rude. Mainly sarcastic.

She sat on her bed, and faced the window. There weren't bars over it, which meant she could escape if she wanted to. Her bed had a handcuff attached to it. Klaus had thought she'd find it more comfortable, and more familiar feeling. She used it almost every night, it was, after all, a hard habit to break. Rain poured down outside, drumming against the glass of her window. She wanted to open the window, and feel the rain in her hair, but that required a key, and she wasn't exactly on the best terms with Klaus, the only one who had the window keys.

Klaus and Cassandra had gotten into a big fight over Cassandra going on missions. Like, real missions. Not shooting someone from a tree, which had resulted badly for her, but more like, spying, and assassinating some famous person. He refused, saying "she wasn't ready," and "the world wasn't prepared yet," and other stuff she didn't care about. He was just trying to brainwash her into thinking she was useful. But she'd lived through eleven years of brainwashing. After a while, it doesn't work anymore.

She lay back on her bed, looking at the bland, gray ceiling. She felt at peace with herself, something she hadn't felt since the night she accidently became one of the Howling Commandos. Cassandra almost fell asleep, but a loud pounding noise on her door made her sit up and answer it.

Cassandra opened her heavy metal door, and looked at her boss.

"Peters."
"Cassandra."
"What do you want?"
"Get ready. You're going on a mission."

Cassandra paused, needing a moment to think over his words.

"You better not be joking," she said.
"No jokes, just a mission. You have five hours to prepare, get to the meeting room, get your weapons, get your disguise."
"Yes sir." Cassandra said professionally.

Cassandra rushed out of her room as soon as Klaus left. She opened the door to the meeting room, and sat in the office chair. Frank, who was technically her superior, slid a file across the table, and she looked through it.

"Some people have some things we want. Files, information, etcetera. Supposedly, those people are transferring them to a different location. You must intercept those files. No witnesses."
"Yes sir."
"Lovely. Your name will be Audrey Herondale, British accent please and thank you. That's all, good luck Agent Barnes."
"Thank you sir."

Cassandra took the file, and flipped through it as she made her way to the weapon room. She grabbed a hip holster, small pistol, bullets, two silver knives, and a tranquilizer gun and darts. She also looked through the clothing options, grabbing a long black evening gown, and her personal favorite, a pair of red heels, and red lipstick.

•••••••••••••••

Cassandra walked gracefully across the dance floor, and to the bar. She ordered a glass of red wine, perfectly fit for the blood-fest she was about to cause, and stood in the corner, observing her surroundings. A man, John McLaran, the host of the gala, owner of the mansion, walked up to her. His eyes were blue, like the sea, with the same glow of diamonds. His hair was a light shade of brown, and he had tan skin. John flashed a smile at her, and she gave him a Hollywood-worthy smile in return.

"What's your name darling?" John asked confidently.
"Audrey Herondale, pleasure to meet you, Mr. McLaran," she said, her British accent sounding a lot like her old friend, Peggy Carter's.
"Would you like to dance?"

John didn't wait for an answer, and grabbed her hand. She set her glass of wine on a waiter's tray, so she wouldn't spill it over her probably expensive dress.

Cassandra held John's hand, and he put his on her waist. They stepped gracefully to the music, spinning in circles. John dipped Cassandra, smiling down at her.

"Come on, I have something to show you," he said.

Cassandra followed after him, even if she didn't really have a choice, he was holding onto her wrist. He pulled her into room, covered with paintings. They probably cost a lot of money. She'd try and sneak one if she could, but she had neither the time, nor the the means of transportation.

John dug through a safe, until he pulled out a box. While he was doing that, Cassandra looked around the room, until she found the briefcase, supposedly holding the files she needed. She carefully slipped her tranquilizer gun out of the holster concealed on her side, and aimed at the back of John's neck. She had originally thought about killing him, but he was so sweet and kind. And Cassandra was a very convincing liar. Neither Klaus or Frank would know that she did in fact leave one witness.

She quietly pulled the trigger, the dart going exactly where she wanted it to go. John groaned, and fell backwards. Cassandra caught his head, and set him gently on the ground. She picked up the briefcase, and walked out.

yay! my girl went on mission! i'm so proud of her.
also, for those of you that read my previous series, the daughter series, yes, john is related to the mclaran sisters, aka reese and noelle mclaran. he, actually is their granfather. so yeah, CROSSOVERS am i right!?
i love you guys three-thousand!-