Avengers 1. Prologue

As she repeatedly hit the bag, throwing punch after punch at the painfully solid object in front of her she didn't feel ashamed to cry. She still wore the black dress she was given to wear to her parents funeral, a funeral she only made it half way to before turning back to home. The blood from her beat up knuckles was beginning to stain the sleeves, but she didn't care. All she cared about at that moment was feeling pain. The pain of losing her parents, the pain of losing everyone she cared about. The pain of not being able to protect those dearest to her. The pain of failure. She was alone in life now. And it was all her fault. She would have done anything and everything to stop what happened, and when she had that chance she blew it. She failed. In frustration she swung her fist back, letting it connect with the punching bag one last time and splitting it in half, feeling slightly satisfied when she heard the loud thump of it hitting the floor at her feet. As she was bought back to reality she collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath, finally realising the intensity of the work she had just put her body through. It was only while she sat hunched on the floor that she noticed something was different. The world around her seemed to be silent. There was no noise of cars or dogs or people walking by on the street metres from where she crouched. It was too quiet. Her eyes flickered to the other side of the room where her bag lay discarded, her gun, knife and her secret hidden inside, before surveying the room. From the corner of her eye she picked up a small movement and barely had time to spin around, ducking a punch which was aimed at her head, swinging her legs around to connect with her attackers body, sending them sprawling to the ground, the gun they held in their gloved hand firing as it hit the floor. Without a second thought she reached for the gun, backing against the wall and facing the three other people who had now entered her living room at the sound of a shot being fired. Before she had time to raise the gun someone came at her from her left side, sending a kick to her ribs and knocking her to the ground. With a groan she rolled over, blocking another kick this time aimed at her face. She knew she was hopelessly outnumbered with all four black cladded figures slowly approaching, pushing her against the wall. The gun now lay across the other side of the room near her bag. She was out of options and beyond the point of caring what happened. After a half-hearted struggle with the attackers, a cloth was placed over her mouth and she could feel herself becoming more and more drowsy with each breath. The last thing she witnessed was a dark skinned man walking through her front door, his black coat sweeping the floor behind him, an eyepatch covering his left eye and a frown upon his face. Then everything went black. 


	2. Chapter 1

Hey guys :)) New story ... Gonna try and update once a week :) This is set after the events of the Avengers but before Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2. Disclaimer: only own my original characters and the plot. All other rights go to Marvel etc. - I have been stuck here a week. A week of being bribed and manipulated in attempts to get me speak, each one worse than the last. No one will tell me where I am or why I am here. No one will show me kindness. I spend my days secured to a hard chair, being prodded and jabbed with different instruments as I was commanded to open up, to tell them who I really was and what I knew about my fathers legacy. No matter what I told them, not matter how much I begged and pleaded to be let go, they didn't believe me when I said I knew nothing about what they were talking about. Now I crouched in the corner of the large intimidating room, once again scolding myself for showing them weakness, showing them I could be broken. It didn't take long for me to notice that something was different. It was well past midday, and yet no one had come to collect me, no one had come to drag me blindfolded out of the hall, me kicking and screaming behind them as crowds of spectators watched on. Something they didn't realise was giving me a days break from the torture gave me hope. Hope I could get out of this, hope that I could do something to change it. Already beginning to feel a small amount of strength seep into my bones I pushed myself to my feet, taking a few shaky steps before finding my balance and edging my way to the door, careful to avoid the motions of the camera mounted on the far wall. A gentle push on the handle reinforced what I already knew; it was locked. But thankfully, I'd been taught many things in my life, one of them being how to pick a lock. My wavy brown hair was always full of bobby pins which were desperately trying to hold it in place, and today was no different. Something I was grateful for was how I was still in the same attire I wore a week ago when I was captured, swiftly pulling a brown pin from my hair and slipping it into the lock. It took only seconds for me to hear the soft click that bought a smile to my face and I looked around me for a weapon of sorts, backup if I needed it. Drawing nothing I sighed, turning back and slowly pushing open the door, hesitant until I could see the dark passage way in front of me was empty. Wherever I was it was dark and damp, the quiet sound of drips following my path down the passage. Every room I came across was full of junk, dimly lit and horribly pungent. My hopes had began to drop again until I came across a small sliver of light trying to escape from under the door next to me. Pushing it open I came across stairs which I eagerly bounded up, ignoring the pain radiating from the various injuries on my body. The next floor was less deserted than the one I had been kept on, but everyone seemed too busy to notice there was someone out of place. I pulled my jacket close to my body, keeping my head down as I kept a brisk pace along the tiled floor, my eyes still adjusting to the bright neon lights which lined the ceiling. I somehow found myself standing in front of what seemed to be the entrance to a gym, observing a white shirted man who attacked the punching bag in front of him. It took me seconds to work out who he was, and only a short time to put together the pieces, everything beginning to make sense. In front of me stood Captain America, the man out of time and New York's favourite hero. I was lying to my captors when I said I knew nothing about my father. I didn't know a lot, but I knew enough to notice something suspicious was going on and enough to give them if it became necessary. After the events in New York a few months ago, my father quit his job at the agency S.H.I.E.L.D, leaving to work with his brother, who's work was so classified my father had no idea what he was getting into until he was already too far submerged. I had my suspicions that was what killed my parents. My parents. Just thinking of them made me want to burst into tears, show the world I could be broken, that I wasn't the eighteen year old creep who never showed emotions. But I couldn't. Not now. I had to be strong. Now I knew it had to be S.H.I.E.L.D who was holding me captive, I had to stay on my feet. Despite half my brain thinking strategically, the other stupid part of me decided now would be a good time to blow my cover, eyeing the man punching the bag in front of me, believing him to be more of a challenge than a threat. It seemed as though I had not yet been noticed, and, seeing as he was the only one in sight, I slowly and quietly shut the door behind me, edging my way towards his figure. I was half a metre away from his seemingly unaware back when he stopped punching, only to swing his fist towards me. I barely had time to duck, spinning my body around behind him and taking a defensive stance. I managed to clumsily block several punches to my upper body, before planting a kick on his freakishly solid shin. My focus was on his hands, however, and I wasn't ready when his leg swung around, kicking my feet out from underneath me and knocking my body to the floor. Before I could get up his knee was pushing against my back, holding me to the floor for a moment before he moved away, offering me a hand and pulling me to my feet. We both stood in silence for a moment, him watching me with a curious expression while my heart beat at a thousand miles for fear of being recognised as a prisoner. I was the first to speak, a comprehensive, intelligent sentence already formed in my head, only for my big mouth to blurt something entirely different out. "You've got a hard body. I mean shin. I mean -" I quickly shut my mouth, feeling heat rising to my cheeks as I ducked my head. "Seems a shame to hide a pretty face," he murmured, grinning as he surveyed my flustered face. "You're the one Fury has been hiding away, aren't you?" He asked, and I felt my heart drop, my playful mood gone, a defensive one taking its place. "If you don't let me go, I will make sure this is the last conversation you have with anyone upon this Earth," I threatened, only to be met with a chuckle from the now open door. "I wouldn't go around making threats to Steve Rogers." The same dark skinned man I saw at my apartment advised me from where he stood in the doorway, and I growled when I met his gaze. "Who are you, and what the fuck do you want with me?!" I snarled, moving back towards the opposite side of the gym and out of reach of the Captain. "My name is Director Fury, and I am with S.H.I.E.L.D. You are Felicity Lucas, daughter of ex-commander Alex Lucas, who was murdered by your uncle and S.H.I.E.L.D's sworn enemy, Peter Dawson. We have reason to believe you were involved in your fathers murder, exposing his undercover work for us and endangering thousands of lives." If I wasn't terrified I would have been on the floor in stitches, the reality of what Fury was saying too hilarious to comprehend. "You think I was involved in killing my parents?" I asked, a slight smile on my face. "You think I shot them?" I allowed myself to let out a small laugh. "You're a mad man." The two men flanking the Director stepped forward, raising their weapons before Fury waved his hand, stopping them. He went to open his mouth to speak again, but I cut in, my laughter turning to anger in mere moments. "Don't you dare accuse me of killing the two people I loved. The only two people left in my life who gave a fuck about me. Don't you dare." My voice was low and threatening, despite how out of my depth I was. However, to my surprise, I heard Steve Rogers speak up to my right. "Fury, I believe her. You have no evidence linking her to their murder beside your own unconfirmed suspicions. Instead of you punishing her for a crime she did not commit, she may be able to help us. She is strong and fast, and incredibly talented. She may be an asset to this mission, rather than a suspect." I sent him a soft smile of thanks before focussing on Fury's sigh of defeat. "Fine. Miss Lucas, Steve shall show you around." He turned to walk out, pausing for a moment to turn around and speak again, his voice deadly serious. "If you give me any reason not to trust you, I promise you, I will not hesitate to shoot you on the spot. Enjoy your time at S.H.I.E.L.D, Felicity Lucas." - Please leave some feedback x 


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Avengers, Hurt-Comfort, Romance