I Think We're Alone Now

Ch. 1: Repossessed (In A Non-criminal Way)

 Randy shakes his head, looking down upon Marilyn.

"It doesn't look good," he says.

Marilyn's eyes widen as his words come across. As it all sets in, it certainly isn't pretty. She gets up and walks Randy to the door, gently shoving him out as he calls out the door. She gives a meek wave and shuts it, slumping to the ground. So...that was it? She felt fine, but oh. This wasn't gonna fare well for her, was it? The world was pitted against her, and frankly, Marilyn wasn't a fan of sport.

Yesterday evening

There's an allure to a dirt-broke woman, right? Especially if she's just negotiated herself a blowout, because shiny red hair is just gorgeous. Like, because her aunt Matilda and the owner's granddaughter used to be real tight, back in college, when they both dropped out together and it was this whole friendship thing.

What about someone who's gained a lot of experience, because she can't stick with a job? Or the job can't get with her. There was no way it was her fault, even if she'd gone through...how many was it? Too many to count on her fingers, that's for sure.

Maybe it was her fault. She was just an outlaw, who couldn't be buckled down by the restraints of a 5:9 schedule. Her soul was destined to run wild until the sunset. She sorta did that, sometimes, occasionally... Okay, so never. But sometimes she picked up spicy takeout and it could get really heated.

In order to get her life together, she'd started journaling. It was a helpful tactic. Now, she was making a list, listing possible career options, because, well...she was out of money. Really out. She'd probably be evicted soon and have to go crawling back to LA, where everyone was probably still furious with her.

Marilyn was a bit cross herself, about everything. She hadn't meant to get into any trouble. She'd slipped out of her little life, just as easily as she'd fallen in. But now she was here, in the teenist studio you could imagine, where you were always in close proximity to the toilet. It was okay, though; she'd decorated with fairy lights. And she'd been working on her list.

ActressGold digger

She had some solid options lined up.

*

Marilyn calls out, "sorry!". It seems that man is going to need to learn the art of stain removal. And she's out a cup of coffee. At least her outfit was still fresh. She was rather fond of it. Marilyn blinks a few times and proceeds through the airport. The steady click-clack of heels and rolling of luggage trail behind her. She parks the bag outside the restroom and takes a pitstop.

She's sure to brush up her lip gloss and fluff her hair. The thing is, well- she was really gonna have to back up here. Last night, she didn't sleep well. Rather, she was taken with the idea of meeting a handsome stranger on her incoming flight.

When they got to the city, he'd take her out to his favorite restaurant, which only the locals know about. A niche sort of place. He'd heard about the place by word of mouth, because he knew...well Marilyn hadn't met him yet! How was she to predict all the details? It was impossible. Onto security.

"Oh, I love your coat," a smiling woman gushes.

"Really?" Marilyn says, in turn.

"Yes, it's lovely. And that pattern...so vibrant"

"Well-"

"It's custom tailored, isn't it? I just know it is."

"I really better be..." Marilyn gestures and the woman nods in understanding.

What could she say? She'd repossessed this coat (in a non-criminal way, of course) and now wore it open, over her ensemble which was now proving less than practical. In the mix, Marilyn realizes she's left her luggage behind. Oh no! Will she make it in time? Marilyn might have to go without it...

Marilyn bumps into a man. Halting, she apologizes, "so, so, sorry..."

"Oh, you?" he shakes his head, "shouldn't you be getting out of here?"

"Hmm?"

"If I were you, I'd run. As fast my feet can take me."

"I don't understand-"

"Just get out of here, like go," he gives her a little nudge.

Marilyn's taken aback, "no."

"Won't you shut up and listen?" he sneers.

"If you'd care to clue me in."

"Out," he knocks her to the ground.

Marilyn catches herself with her hands, and frantically looks up at the man. This wasn't the kind of stranger she wanted to run into! Meet accidentally in the airport and- she's filled with rage, at him, for singling her out and invading her space.

Marilyn brushes herself off and marches towards the door, only spinning back to grab his ear and pulls him to her level.

"Don't. Touch," she growls and makes a beeline for the exit, with an increasing speed.

The ground began to rumble under her feet, and to her horror, the stranger was right. She needed to get out of here. The incoming explosion aids this task, catching the wind under her feet and sending her flying onto the pavement. She's long out the door, now.

They're all running now. Marilyn isn't the fool, she's...in the right. Would that make her qualify as the heartfelt protagonist? Marilyn grips onto the edges of the car door and tries to tug herself to her feet. Maybe she could wait until later. It wasn't like she had to get up. She could stay right here, if she wanted to.

Would someone say something? Nudge her? Or would they just leave her here, to drown in this abyss of screams and cries for help. Wait- should she call someone? But who? ...never-mind. Marilyn was out of here.

What's the best way to unwind from a near death experience? A pack of Hostess cupcakes of course! Followed by a hot shower and a few jumbled journal entries. If she ever buried it in the ground for future generations to find, they'd be impressed. Her life was officially exciting...oh, crap, she'd nearly died. Not really, through. That nice man had come in and warned her. Now, how to get to Manhattan? She had an audition.

Marilyn puts down her Hostess cupcake, brushing the crumbs off the table, and onto the floor. She goes to get the door.

"Hey," Marilyn gives Randy a little wave, "what brings you here, at, er- this time?"

"Can I come in?" Randy asks.

Hmm...they'd only met the other day and he was a cop. Oh, but what if he was a bad cop! Randy has already taken a seat.

"How are you holding up? After everything," Randy clarifies.

Marilyn shrugs and eyes him suspiciously.

Randy tries again, "you wouldn't happen to know anything about who's behind it, would you, huh?"

"I didn't say you could have one," Randy's reaching for Marilyn's snack.

"Oh. Sorry, but it's just..."

"Just what?"

"It was in your luggage. It was in your luggage."

"My...what?"

"The explosives were seemingly in your position, until you left them behind."

Her luggage.

"I lost my luggage," Marilyn defends herself, "I was just coming back to get it when-"

"You ran. You left the building early. I don't know what happened there, but it doesn't look good..."

Authors note

I don't own Marvel...or do I? (Plot twist!) But really, I recognize that the MCU isn't mine and that this is a fan fiction. By the way...read on 'till chapter three! (the reason for this statement will become ~more apparent~)