The Hollow (An Avengers FanFiction)

Chapter Five

"Last name?" Tony asks. 

"Don't remember it at the moment," I answer. 

"How do you forget your last name?" he asks. 

"Probably was deleted because it wasn't important," I answer. 

"Deleted?"

"Yes, deleted, like a computer. I probably deleted it because I needed room for more things." 

"Okay, what is your favorite color?" he asks. 

I thought for a moment. What was my favorite color? Green, it's the color of money, so it probably brings me the closest I will ever feel to joy. 

"Green." 

"Why?" 

"Color of money." 

The basic questions were just boring questions and questions that I didn't care for. 

"How much money would you say you earn a month?" 

"About twenty-million dollars, though I don't check regularly." 

"Why did you become an assassin?" 

"Woke up one day, did a few bank robbery jobs, then it just sort of escalated," I answered. 

"Who hired you for those bank robberies?" 

"I assume bad people, but I don't know. I don't know any of them personally." 

"Are you going to continue to take this as a joke?" 

"Oh, of course not," I answer. 

"Have you ever worked for H.Y.D.R.A.?" he asked in annoyance. 

"No," I answer. 

"Have you worked for any mafia or gang of any kind?"

"No."

"Have you ever killed someone before?" 

"No." 

"Do you consider life worth living?" 

"No, but I heard death is boring, but if I did die, I think it'd only be a minor inconvenience."

"Why haven't you been eating?" 

"It's an experiment." 

"She's clinically insane, we should send her to a mental hospital," I hear them argue. I was in what I assumed was a medical clinic inside the tower. They were doing the normal tests. 

"I know, but she has important information and as we know, she can delete information from her head just like that if we let her go anywhere that isn't here," I could hear Natasha argue back. 

"We don't know that. She's obviously a master at lying because when we asked her if she had killed anyone, she answered no and it came up as truth!" Tony argued back, "This little brat needs to be in a hospital to get help." 

"She'd just lie through that, Stark. I think she's a sociopath," she says. 

"Wrong!" I yell out as Dr. Banner checks my heart and lungs. "Sociopaths are compulsive, I'm not!" 

"We should move this somewhere else," I hear Steve say. 

This argument seems so familiar. I hate it. I hate this place. I want to go home. I want to be back home, in my bed, with my neighbors that are so easy to read it's fascinating. I miss home. 

My mind becomes static as I begin to not pay attention to my surroundings. I was on airplane mode. The only thing I could hear was static. All I could feel was static. All I could see was static. But I was used to this. This happened occasionally.