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CHAPTER 1
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I leisurely enjoy my cereal, perched on the counter, but my focus is divided as I find myself engrossed in the computer screen before me. Suddenly, the jarring sound of my ringing phone interrupts the tranquility.
Curiosity piqued, I glance at the caller ID: "Fury - Unknown Number." Now, you might be wondering how I could possibly know someone as enigmatic as Nick Fury. Let me clarify. I don't possess any secret agent skills or extraordinary abilities. I hate to disappoint, but I'm just an ordinary individual with a bachelor's degree in computer software.
However, my uncle happens to be Phil Coulson, a significant figure within the esteemed Shield team. Despite this connection, I've never been involved with or worked for Shield myself. I'm merely a programmer, spending my days immersed in the realm of computers while donning t-shirts adorned with comic book characters.
You could say I'm a bit of a dingbat.
Nick Fury, on the other hand, appears rather out of his element when it comes to making phone calls. He tends to be dramatic and chaotic. Curiosity brimming, I answer the phone with a quizzical tone, "Yes?"
"I have an assignment for you," he states sternly, the audacity apparent in his voice.
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm not an employee of Shield. I've also only completed undergraduate studies," I retort, unable to hide the smirk on my face.
Fury explains, "It's a simple task. I need you to make a friend."
Interrupting him, I interject, "Impossible. Social situations aren't exactly my forte."
"It'll have to, I sent over the files. They're on your kitchen counter" he informs. Abruptly, the line goes dead, signaling the end of our conversation.
What on earth is he talking about? Am I now obligated to go out and make friends? Can't a girl be self-sufficient and content in her own company?
Just as I grumble about the situation, the doorbell chimes, breaking my train of thought. Ugh, great! Who could that be? I reluctantly make my way to the door, only to find my uncle, Phil, standing there.
"This is entirely your fault. Now I have to embark on a quest for new friends," I grumble, visibly displeased as I furrow my brows. I snatch the files he hands me, displaying my annoyance. "Couldn't you have been a cop or something?"
Amused, Phil asks, "Is he?"
"No, he simply came to deliver these files. I might as well hold a ceremonial burning for them," I reply, brandishing the files in front of him.
"Although I highly recommend perusing their contents," he advises sternly.
"Fury needs me in New Mexico," he continues, glancing at his watch. "And I'll be on my way there..."
"Right now," he concludes, walking out the door swiftly.
"That guys is crazy." I mutter to myself as I settle down to read the intriguing files.
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I had spent the entire night analyzing the situation and concluded that the key was to make everything appear as natural as possible.
I devised a brilliant strategy: breaking into his stereo system and cranking up the volume to its maximum. The poor guy wouldn't have a clue how to turn it off, given his slightly old-fashioned ways.
With determination, I embarked on my mission. I skillfully disabled the stereo and saved him from the torment, just like the hero I am. The subsequent events involved introductions and other details that are not particularly relevant at this moment.
"Why don't you simply go and introduce yourself?" you might ask. Well, that's just a guide for amateurs. Hacking into the stereo and potentially breaking into his house seemed like the superior option.
I delved into the hacking process, swiftly accomplishing my mission. The volume of my computer's only song, the iMovie noises, was cranked up to the maximum. The ensuing commotion reverberated through my walls. I even added some extra drama by tossing a plate onto the ground. Then, with an expression of feigned shock, I stepped outside.
I pounded on his door, but it remained closed. "Hey! Turn it down" I shouted, taking hold of the doorknob and turning it.
Inside, I saw him fumbling with the stereo, desperately trying to silence it. Seizing the opportunity, I stealthily approached and switched it off.
He was dumbfounded by my sudden appearance. "I was utterly shocked when the decorations on my wall tumbled down like the Berlin Wall," I expressed.
"it seemed to have turned on by itself," he apologized sincerely.
"It's alright," I reassured him, putting him at ease.
"I'm Steve Rogers," he introduced himself.
"I'm Magdalena Ford," I responded.
"You can call me Mags or Dal," I offered, adding, "I live next door."
"Ah, I see," he replied. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise. Since I'm just next door, feel free to knock if you need anything. I'm usually working in there," I suggested, pointing to my apartment.
"Thank you, have a good one," he bid farewell, closing the door behind me.
As I entered my own apartment, I declared, "The first task is complete. Now we wait for the mouse to take the bait."
"More like a massive super soldier," I quipped with a smirk.
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