Spectrum ⇒ Avengers [ 1 ]

Caught

I wake up half on the floor, half on the couch, with a searing pain in my neck and a determination to find out more about Spiderman.
Just call me J. Jonah Jameson, because I'm clearly developing an obsession.

Kiara comes in, not too soon after I wake up, and laughs slightly at my position on the floor.
"If you want a shower, upstairs is all yours- I'm opening up in fifteen, and Mel's gone to work."
"Where does she work?" I ask, disentangling myself from the blankets.
"She's a lawyer in downtown Manhattan." Wow. I yawn and stand up, rubbing my eye. "You can grab some breakfast in the cafe, if you can wait that long."
"Sure thing." I say in a garbled voice, nodding sleepily.

Note to self: late night talks with superheroes really ruin the next morning.

The apartment above the coffee shop is great- it smells of lavender, and there are cookie jars on the windows, as well as flowers everywhere. I find the shower quickly, and, partly paranoid that it's all going to turn Psycho on me, wash as quickly as possible, braiding my hair. It's a bird's nest after two days on the run, and I grimace as I try and move my hands through it, wincing at the tangles. God forbid I get hair that I can actually brush.

I change back into the S.H.I.E.L.D clothes, minus the t-shirt, which I leave as Batgirl, because Batgirl is awesome, and I get the feeling that cameras can probably scan for certain logos. Grabbing my rucksack, I take the stairs two at a time, and find Kiara flipping the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.
"Glad to see you're more awake." She calls over her shoulder as she opens the blinds. "Take whatever you want from the counter." My mouth waters as I look at what's on offer. There are croissants again, and bagels, but I want a bit of variety. After all, it is the spice of life. I snatch a few slices of bread from behind the counter and pop them into the toaster. When they're done, I slather them with butter and raspberry jam, and take a seat near the back, away from the window.

"Ooh, raspberry. Good choice." Kiara winks. "Say, when you're done, would you mind helping me with the early-birds? It's all the career people, you know the type." There are already plenty of them streaming past the window. I nod, unable to speak through the huge mouthful of toast I've just eaten.
When I manage to swallow, I say "Yeah, anything you need- thank you so much for letting me stay the night. You didn't have to."
"It's no bother, really." She smooths herself down. "I just wish someone had done it for me. Anyway, I've got a spare apron over here somewhere. Just write down the orders and bring them back to me, and I'll give you the food to take over, how's that?" I nod again, crunching through the toast.

Her red hair's in plaits today, almost like-

"What's your name? Hey! Hello?"
I turn to see two pale hands clinging to the bars opposite me.
"Yeah, you! What's your name?"
"Brynn." My voice is hoarse from screaming and lack of water. "Who are you?"
"Freya. I've been here a week, I think. You're the new ones, aren't you? You and that Jack boy?"
"Jake," I correct, scrambling towards the bars. "He's called Jake, do you know where he is?"
From the thin trickle of sunlight, I can see a spindly girl, covered in freckles, with vivid red hair in two limp plaits. "No. They took him. Sometimes they're gone a long time. Sometimes..." She looks around nervously. "Sometimes they don't come back." My heart sinks.
"Don't come back? What do you mean?" She presses her lips together tightly.
"We're not supposed to talk about these things." She says, her hands slipping away from the bars. "It's forbidden."
"Forbidden?" I stare into the darkness as she crawls further back into her own cell. "Forbidden by who? There's no one here, it's okay!"
"She watches," Freya's voice echoes back at me. "She's always watching."

Little Freya. The toast drops from my hands back onto the plate, and suddenly I don't feel so hungry anymore. What happened to her? I strain my mind, but nothing springs out at me. She was younger than me by a few years- what was she, twelve, thirteen? I always had the feeling she knew more than she let on, but she was always too scared to talk for very long. I don't want to know where she is now.