ATLAS • W. MAXIMOFF

24- *To Recap*

"I'm not a Maths gay. My brain isn't wired for numbers, it's made for maladaptive daydreaming." Ophelia grumbled as the Romanoff smirked in amusement.

"Help me." The brawler pathetically whined to the Russian with wide pleading eyes.

"My brain's wired for stealing government secrets and killing people." The redhead casually intoned. "Not college level calculus."

Ophelia slowly slid down her chair in hopelessness, muttering under her breath various threats against the Greeks for making the blasted subject that gave her nothing but pain.

"Don't you think you're spreading yourself a little thin, Lia?" The redhead cautiously approached, drawn to the dark circles under Ophelia's eyes and the air of exhaustion she had permanently carried for the last two weeks. "You've been balancing college, taking down HYDRA bases, training non-stop and working with INTERPOL for the last few months. You're burning yourself out."

Try as she might to deny it, Ophelia knew that Natasha was right. The first month after she returned from Korbin, everything seemed calm. The Delacour had been allowed to hang out with her friends again, get used to Earth and maybe for once have some peace and quiet.

She should have known better than to have trusted the calm before the storm.

As soon as July had passed, and Ophelia had celebrated her 19th birthday with a typical Asgardian celebration of booze and music that Thor planned laboriously; shit hit the metaphorical fan. With Fury dead to the rest of the world, the brawler no longer had her protection from the world governments.

The United Nations Security Council especially were eager to have Ophelia's file and identity in their hands; but it was one thing to trust them with the security of the world. It was another to trust them with the tools to destroy it. Fury stood by his old choice when he called her after the UN made their demands to Tony's Stark Foundation.

"If they find out what you can do Delacour, they'll stop at nothing to have you under their control. I wouldn't be surprised if a Cold War started just to claim you as a weapon. Do not let them control you." Fury impressed seriously to Ophelia one night on a videocall. His clothes scruffy and worn instead of the full leather she was used to.

She was fielding pressure from all sides to make a decision. Tony was being bombarded with court marshals and subpoenas to handle files about Ophelia that no one but Fury had. And despite Bruce trying to calm her down and tell her it would all be okay; the stress of the government's interference was getting to them all. Steve was especially rankled at the thought of Ophelia being sucked into government control.

With how little she'd paid attention to her secret identity, Ophelia was surprised she hadn't already been exposed. She put it down to dumb luck and how oblivious humans tended to be.

Caught between two choices that would bring their own problems and suffering, Ophelia did what she did best.

She did her own thing.

Flashback

INTERPOL Headquarters

Lyon, France

Mireille Beaufort was a formidable woman.

She had to be to rise through the ranks at such a young age and gain the respect of old rich men who were used to wielding all the power in the room.

Elected as the President of INTERPOL nearly two years ago, the 39-year-old French woman had seen some of the worst horrors this world had to offer. She knew better than anyone that aliens weren't the biggest threat to Earth.