I just didn't want to die.
The very first time I was killed, in the S.H.I.E.L.D. lab, I could feel the flash of pain as my life ended. I felt myself fade and saw the world go black.
It was something I never wanted to experience again.
I ran, and I was determined to hide and stay hidden until I was off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar, then possibly search for a cure. If I was lucky, I could do this. If.
When S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits you, they say you're risking your life, that not everyone lives through working in the field, and I promised I was willing to give my life for them.
Once. Once was more than enough.
Apparently, not for them.
Whenever I had heard about people trying to run from S.H.I.E.L.D., I used to laugh. S.H.I.E.L.D. could and would always find you.
The agency practically stalked you. I found it creepy, but got past it. S.H.I.E.L.D. held an enormous power over society that was often abused, as I had seen. All Nick Fury needed was a funky triangle, a beard, and a shirt that said "For the Greater Good."
There were good intentions behind the actions-- they just never thought of the real cost, like a selfish child who thinks they know everything.
"The end justifies the means."
Now Fury and Machiavelli can have matching t-shirts.
I won't have any trouble finding my boss a Christmas gift.
Again, this was not going to be easy.
I glanced out the window of the convience store. No cars branded with the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem were rapidly approaching my location-- I was safe from capture, at least for the time being. I would be caught at one point-- I was sure of it-- but for as long as I could, I would stay away from work.
I thanked the exhausted teenage cashier and grabbed my bag of askew items. It was like when you forgot a few select items when going to the store, and when you went back, only the weirdest things remained-- though this was tough to beat.
In my bag, there was;
-Multiple bags of Doritos
-Hair ties
-Four baseball caps
-An electric razor
-Several cans of Red Bull
-Over five packs of gum
-Gummy worms
The hotel manager wasn't the only one who thought I was crazy that night, and the fact that it was past 3 AM didn't help either. However, it honestly couldn't wait. I was going to be known as a national fugitive by the next day.
I flipped my hood up, thanking Tony Stark once more for actually coming through.
Just roll with the crazy. I told myself.
I rounded the corner to see Tony's car. I sighed, and ran my fingers through my hair. It had been a long day.
A miniscule noise made me freeze. I waited; tense, for a few moments.
Don't be so paranoid, Andra. I chided. It's probably just a cat.
Yeah, a cat that works for S.H.I.E.L.D..
I opened the car door, and casually pulled out the small black handgun. To say I was anxious was an understatement.
I searched the corner for signs of movement, gripping the gun tightly; aware that there were probably cameras everywhere and that I couldn't actually be convicted until I committed a real crime-- such as shooting something or not having my gun license that came with my job.
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FanfictionTwo very different people. Two very different problems. Running from the same thing. *** Crummy basement. Dissecting dead aliens. Identifying tiny pieces of recent--or ancient--UFO's supplied by none other than the infamous SHIELD. Trust me, it's...