𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖘||𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖔𝖘

1.5

jan 27 2007

After what felt like seconds, her vision came back. She came to a sudden halt. She bent over gasping, trying to catch a whiff of breath. As she looked up, she felt different. Her eyes widened.

This was not her neighborhood. Where the hell was she?

This place looked completely different from where she had previously been running.

Panic began to swell through her body. She didn't know where she was. What had just happened?

The street was quiet, townhouses lined up in rows, lights off. It seemed peaceful. That peace did not help in the slightest.

The stressed girl continued to run, looking for any signs she knew where she was. Hell, she'd run back to her house if she could.

Where was she?

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Nick Fury was having a good day.

The director of S.H.I.E.L.D had been sitting in his office staring at files. He sighed, getting up from his office desk, getting his supplies, and getting ready to head out for the evening. Nick wasn't getting much out of his files. Fury had gotten out of a meeting with the World Security Council, where his close friend Alexander Pierce had given him new security threats the Council wanted S.H.E.I.L.D to check in on.

As he walked through the halls he came across another close friend.

"Evening Fury," Phil Coulson greeted. "Heading home for the night?"

"Yeah," Fury sighed, continuing his walk.

"Have a good night sir," Coulson nodded, walking in the other direction. "Same to you."

Phil Coulson was having a good day. He had a successful morning, his car was in perfect condition, and his partner had bought him a coffee. Nothing entirely new had happened, just some cases that needed filing. Perfect for the Level Seven agent.

As Coulson walked to his desk to pack up for the night he nodded at a familiar redhead.

Natasha Romanoff was having a great day. She hadn't had any terrible nightmares in a week. She hadn't woken up in a pool of sweat, gasping for air, clenching her bed sheets. Natasha hadn't reached the nearby gym to punch her past out of her head.

The morning missions were a success, with few casualties. All she had to do was break a few bones and hear a couple of pleas for help and she got what she wanted.

Now she was off to end her day with one of her best friends.

She walked up to her brown-haired colleague.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

Clint Barton was having a great day. He had woken up on time and led a S.T.R.I.K.E class well.

His mission with Natasha had gone great, as he had prevented her from doing too much collateral damage, and now he was going home.

He would see his wife and two children, and Natasha would be joining them-a great way to end the peaceful evening.

"Great."

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As Phil reached his desk, he looked at his partner of his for several years with his head on his desk.

Thomas Overton had not been having a good day.