And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know
-Somewhere Only We Know, Lily Allen
April 20th 2008
Stark Mansion, Malibu
Late that night, I get home from the funeral: alone. Opening the door with my shoulder, I hop into the living room whilst trying to pull my heels off. Sitting down on the sofa, I fully take off my shoes and my headband, which has been digging into my head all day.
Something feels off, but I'm too emotionally exhausted to care, "J, how are you feeling?", I ask the thin air.
"I can't feel anything, Miss Stark, I don't have emotions.", he says blatantly (I suppose it's better than having to listen to a robot's emotional rantings), "How was the funeral?"
"It was... It happened.", I shrug.
"Shall I change the subject?"
"Yeah, please.", I wander into the kitchen, dump my clutch on the counter, and browse our unsurprisingly empty cupboards- he wasn't big on cooking.
"Would you like me to order food, Miss Stark?"
As I open the fridge, I see a box of leftover pizza; there are only a couple of slices left, but that's fine by me. "No, I'll be fine thanks." I toss them onto a plate and put them in the microwave, watching intently as they spin around. A feeling of unease sets in the pit of my stomach as I feel as though I'm being watched.
Trying to think nothing of it, I take an apple from the fruit bowl and start chopping it up. Suddenly, the microwave pings, making me jump out of my skin; I roll my eyes at what a baby I am. It's nothing; there's nobody here.
Though our house is usually chaotic and constantly loud, an eery silence drowns the open room I'm in. My ears are pricked up, ready to hear the slightest sound echo around the empty halls. I mutter reassurances to myself and get back to cutting my apple, having completely forgotten to take my pizza out of the microwave.
Creak.
I hear the floorboards move behind me and I snap around, my first instinct being to toss my knife in the direction of the sound. In the shadowy corner of the room, I see movement as a figure moves slightly to dodge the flying knife.
"Not bad.", a low voice says, "You've got a nice shot.". I don't reply, but take a step back, my hands shaking uncontrollably and my eyes fixed on the ominous figure. "Shame you just got rid of your weapon." He steps forward, into the glow of the pale moonlight; I can finally see his features; he's bald with an eye patch over his left eye. He wears a long, black, leather trenchcoat and stands tall, not showing any signs of nerves, "Nick Fury, director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division. Pleasure to meet you, Aurelia."
"Get out of my house.", I warn, meeting his gaze with an icy glare.
"Ooh, intimidating.", he mocks, chuckling lowly, "No need to worry, I'm not here to hurt you. In fact, I'm here to help."
"I don't need your help. I do need you to get out before I call the police.", I declare, standing up straighter and trying to mask my fear.
"Go on, call them.", he says with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Warily, I slip my phone from my clutch, "I'll do it. Watch me.", I type in the numbers one by one: nine. One. One. The phone doesn't even ring, just turns off completely. "Miss Stark, I assure you, we're the good guys here."
"Then why did you break into my house?", I cross my arms over my chest.
"It was the only we could get to you without catching the attention of anyone else.", he tells me.
"Why wouldn't you want anyone's attention?", I ask, raising my eyebrows.
He sighs and glances around, debating whether he should tell me something or not, "There's only one way to put it. Miss Stark; we think somebody ordered a hit on your father."
"Why would anyone-", I cut myself off, realizing the stupidity of my question, "Actually, don't answer that."
"For your safety, you need to come with me.", he declares.
Gormlessly, I gawp at him, as I discreetly slip a knife from the countertop into my hand, "Erm, how about no?"
"I wasn't asking.", he says.
"Why would I ever leave my home with some stranger?", I scoff.
"Look, there are two ways we can go about this. You can come with me willingly, or I can have three burly men escort you out of here with nothing but brute force.", he says.
"Ooh,", I smirk, "three burly men please."
"This isn't a game.", he says sternly, "This is a matter of your safety."
"Who would want to murder me?", I pretty much laugh.
"Oh, a lot of people.", he chuckles; I raise an eyebrow, "You're wealthy, you come from a powerful family, and I'd bet that if anything ever happened to you, your father would be willing to pay a hell of a lot of money to get you back."
"Well, in case you hadn't heard, he's not at home at the moment, so I doubt anyone's gonna hold me for ransom.", I say.
"Alright, I've had enough, hit her."
"Wait, what?", I spin around and see a man with spiky, ashy-brown hair jab a needle into my neck.
Before I can even process what's going on, everything fades away into blackness and my limp body flops to the ground.
A message from the author:
Omg, this week has been such a rollercoaster of emotions guys! I literally sobbed mid football match today. Live laugh love. We lost as well. BUT I GOT HARRY STYLES TICKETS FOR WHEN HE COMES TO MANCHESTER!!!!!!!! Can't wait! Anyways, hope you all had a good week! Remember to vote and comment! See you all next chapter! (;
- Hannah xoxo
Word count: 1101
Date published: January 29th 2022