What have I gotten myself into
The deep rumble of the decades old motorcycle usually was enough to calm Ava after a tough day, but she’d covered a friends shift and had been working 12 hours straight. Luckily this friend had promised many cups of coffee as recompense, even some take out, so it was almost worth it.
She wiggled the handlebars back and forth impatiently waiting for the light she was stopped at to turn green. Another loud rumbling approached, a newer Harley pulled up next to her, it was pretty snazzy. Ava’s eyes wandered from the bike to the rider, and holy shit, he was like an American poster child. Blonde, tall, and wore a brown leather jacket that looked just big enough to contain his shoulders without ripping a seam.
He looked tense, not the same tenseness Ava was feeling, but something deeper. Something more dire that was taking a toll on him. Ava, being the caring individual she was, decided to break his concentration and maybe make him smile.
“Nice bike!” The man looked startled, “S’it new?” Ava yelled over the combined engines and through her helmet.
The man grinned, temporarily out of his worry, “Yeah, and thanks, you too. What year is it?”
"79, it was my Dad’s,” The light turned green Ava threw a good bye over her shoulder and sped off, the man turning right as she continued straight.
After a few more lights she pulled into the small space between her apartment building, and the next. The little alley didn’t go anywhere, it was fenced off, and no one else used it. Mostly because it was too small for a car to fit and open it’s doors. So it was perfect motorcycle parking.
She pushed out the kickstand and tilted the front wheel to stabilize the bike, and climbed off. Patting the bike’s seat lovingly, Ava walked to the front of her building. It was a nice little place, three stories up, with a nice little lobby the stairs to the other levels centered, a wall of mail boxes, and two doors in the back corner facing one another leading to the only downstairs apartments. Ava’s was the door on the right, on the same wall as the mail boxes.
She passed them, not needing to check, and eyed her front door warily. It had a bad habit of sticking, and not opening for a couple days until it decided it was time to let anyone in. Ava pushed her key into the doorknob silently praying to the apartment gods that the door would cooperate today. Stuffing her keys back into her pocket she sighed and pushed the door. Nothing, she cursed and tried again with more force, and again nothing.
In the process of banging her head against the door for the fourth time the door to the other downstairs apartment opened. Ava’s neighbor chuckled.
“Hello, Mrs. Stanislavsky,” Ava grumbled, her forehead still against her door.
“Door not working for you, dear?” The elderly woman’s accent through the years in America had lessened, but she must have been talking to someone back home in Sokovia, because her words were more warped and gravely. However, hearing her was still somewhat of a comfort to the younger woman.
“Yes.”
“Need the knife?”
“Yeah,” This wasn’t the first time Mrs. S. had found Ava in this position. The first time she watched from her door way as Ava called the landlord, who forced the door open. The second time she stopped the younger woman from calling the unpleasant man. She handed Ava a rather large knife, explaining that the older windows could be jimmied open from the outside if she just pushed the blade up between the two planes using it to push the latch holding the window locked to an unlocked position.
It almost didn’t work, but thanks to Ava’s magnificent laziness she left it slightly unlocked so the knife could push easily against the latch. Now it stayed slightly unlocked for occasions such as this.
Mrs. S tapped Ava on the shoulder, holding out a large carving knife. She thanked the elderly woman and made a mental note to buy a pocket knife so she wouldn’t have to disturb her anymore.
Ava swapped her helmet for the knife and headed to the side of the building to her window. She pushed the latch over and quickly made her way back to the lobby, giving the knife back and taking her helmet.
“Thank you,” She smiled tiredly.
“Oh, anytime, dragă, anytime,” Mrs. S went back to her apartment as Ava went back outside, she recognized that the elderly woman had called her ‘darling’. She’d asked the older woman what it meant the first time she’d said it. Ava shook her head focusing on the task ahead.
After all the times she’d climbed through the window, Ava had hoped she could do it with some grace, but no. She was on the short side and after throwing her helmet into the apartment she jumped a little to get her stomach onto the window ledge. Wiggling in she, as always, didn’t brace herself in time and face planted into the carpet, her legs still stuck out the window.
“Jesus Christ,” Ava muttered, pulling her legs in and glad that no one had called the cops on her yet. She pulled her legs in and stood, latching the window, but not all the way.
The next few hours were normal and quiet. Ava ate some old spaghetti, hoping it wasn’t too old, she couldn’t remember the last time she had made any. Shoving everything into the dishwasher, and decided even through her tiredness she’d take a shower.
Vaguely as she stepped out of the shower, she heard the sounds of sirens echoing off the buildings, which wasn’t unusual she did live in D.C. She got into some old, much to big sweatpants, a tank top and flopped into bed. Falling asleep fairly easily.
BANG BANG BANG
"Ah!” Thump, “Fuck!”
The knocking on the front door startled Ava, more then it probably should have, and in her moment of panic, tangled in her sheets, she fell to the floor. Her face meeting carpet again. The banging stopped once she hit the floor and cursed.
As quickly as she could, Ava untangled herself and made her way to the door. Praying again to the apartment gods that it would cooperate, she unlocked it and pulled hard, and to her amazement it did. Although accompanied by a horrendous screeching.
“What.” Ava was too tired and annoyed, being woken up in the middle of the night, to be pleasant.
A blond man stood in her doorway, eye brow raised, looking far too casual for someone knocking on doors this late at night.
“You, Ava,” He looked down and flipped through a folder he was carrying, “Caine?”
“Who’s asking?”
The man sighed but seemed somewhat amused, and pulled out a badge from his jeans pocket. He flipped it open revealing an official looking SHIELD badge with the name Barton, Clinton printed on it.
Ava squinted, eyes still a bit blurry from sleep, “So?”
Clint snorted and put the badge away, “I’m here to have a talk, we, SHIELD, have a proposition for you.” He leaned back on his heals, “It might take a while to explain, mind if I-,” gesturing to the apartment.
“Yes, I do mind, but whatever,” Ava turned leaving the door open for the man to follow her into the living area. He whistled.
“Quite the mediocre place you got here.”
Ava slumped into the arm chair next to the couch, so she wouldn’t have to sit right next to the man. “Aren’t government assholes supposed to be professional?” She crossed her arms.
“Well I’m not really a normal government asshole.” Clint chuckled flopping down into the middle of the couch, spreading his arms across the back, with the folder open on his crossed legs.
“So,” he dragged out the word, “your file goes back quite a ways. Back to middle school.” He looked up as Ava stiffened, completely awake now. “I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” She did, the car, the crash, the morgue.
“Then it’s sort of scattered till your first year of college,” he paused, Ava had gone pale.
She clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to control their shaking, “So what do you want?” Her voice was small, no one should know about any of that.
Clint watched her closely, he closed the folder and leaned forward, “Look kid-,”
“I’m 23.”
“Right, kid. Listen. we’ve got a job that needs your,” he paused thinking it over, “skill set.”
“Who-,”
“Eh, sorry. Can’t really disclose any info. in such an insecure location.” He leaned back, looking much more tired and ragged then when he’d stood in the doorway.
Ava looked down at her hands, she’d wanted to leave this part of herself behind and never have it brought up again, but someone was in bad enough shape and important enough to need her help. “Okay.”
Clint jumped up, “Okay!” He smiled, “Let’s go, it’s kind of urgent.”
“Then why’d you come insid-,”
He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door, “It’s a comfort thing,” The door was open and they were out the front door of the building before Ava could say anything else.
The car ride was taking longer then Ava expected, Clint explained it away saying it was to make sure no one was following them. Which seemed counterintuitive if whoever needed her help was in bad condition.
Finally Clint pulled of the pavement to a grassy trail, leading up to a huge concrete structure. A woman stood in front of a small metal door off to the side.
“You’re not really some serial killer, and that’s your partner in crime, are you?”
Clint laughed, “Hill? Naw, she gets annoyed with me to easily.” He smiled, “She’ll take you from here.”
Ava didn’t feel that comfortable, the woman looked pretty stern, but she nodded to Clint and got out of the car. They’d stopped a ways away, and she walked over to ‘Hill’, feeling scrutinized the whole way.
“Caine?”
“Uh…Yeah?”
“Follow me,” Her voice wasn’t as demanding or ruff as Ava expected, just no nonsense.
As Hill lead Ava through the concrete halls she explained, as much as she could, “Thank you for coming. The man we need you to see is Nick Furry,” She faltered in her steps, “Do you need to know anything in particular, or?”
“Naw, I’ll know soon enough.”
She nodded, “We’ll be trying to keep you out of this as much as possible, for your safety, so I can’t really divulge much more.”
“I understand,” The agent glanced at the girl a bit taken aback, “I mean, it’s secret government stuff, I’d like to stay out of it anyway.” Ava shrugged.
Hill looked visibly less tense, “Here he is.” She drew aside some plastic to show a makeshift medical room. An older African American man lay on a hospital bed, hooked up to numerous machines.
Ava’s stomach lurched at the sight of the medical supplies, and stayed as far away as she could. “Um, so do you know how this works?” She glanced at Hill.
“In a very basic sense, from what we could put together from your files.”
Ava let out a shaky breath, “Okay, I’m going to need a chair, and if I happen to…um, die, just put me to the side. I’ll be fine.”
Hill nodded and moved a chair over to the girl. “Oh and one more thing, this’ll probably get… bloody looking at his injuries, and if I pass out and he’s not healed just make sure I keep touching him.” Hill nodded again, and stepped away.
Ava took another long breath, trying to calm herself, and placed her hands tentatively on Furry’s forearm. The large bullet wounds on his chest weren’t the first injury he’d received, Ava first felt her left forearm crack and fracture; along with some minor scrapes and bruises. Once those were healed, on Furry, Ava felt bullet after bullet sinking into her back. Muscles ripping and some ribs fracturing, and warm blood dripping down staining her tank top.
As the man kept healing, Ava kept bleeding. She could heal others fast, in a couple minutes, but her personal healing factor was much slower. For just the broken arm it would take her body at least an hour to heal it.
The blood loss was staring to get to her, and her mind was getting hazy. Cursing under her breath Ava passed out.