I'm really sorry; sorry for being the apologetic one.
~Dead to Me, Melanie Martinez
New York isn't as pleasant as one would think it would be. I've spent the last hour avoiding rude and perverted men, weaving my way through various crowds.
The maze that was Manhattan still had bits of debris from the Battle of Manhattan that had been deemed memorials for the lives lost in 2011. Every time I passed a Chitauri chariot piece or a large piece of a sign, I bowed my head in respect just as everyone else did.
There were some people who I passed that were mourning at the debris. It was kind of sad actually, and heartbreaking seeing all those families with one less member, snatched from a life they loved.
I'd never know that pain, but I knew a few people who did, which is why I'm in Manhattan right now, to see my friend.
She's been struggling a bit ever since the invasion took place. Now, all she's got is her little coffee shop me.
I maneuvered my way through for a few more minutes before I came to her small apartment complex. I opened the lobby door and tried not to look at anyone in the lobby. Most people were trying to calm down their children or bargain for a reasonable price to spend the night.
I went straight to the elevator, grateful that no one went inside with me. I hated it when people did that. I liked elevator rides to myself so I could stay unknown.
When the doors closed, I was greeted by a silence.
“I thought they played music…” I muttered to myself.
A few seconds later, the old metal box’s doors opened to reveal a musty hallway with that really ugly puke green carpet you find in homes from the past centuries. I sighed, and began the short walk to her apartment that she shared with her boyfriend.
I reached her door within seconds, and I didn't hesitate to knock on her door.
“GIVE ME ABOUT FIVE SECONDS!” I heard from the other side of door. There was a crashing sound and then the clicks of her lock unlocking.
Her face appeared as the door opened. Giselle had her dirty blonde hair in a messy bun and was wearing nothing but a sweatshirt and her underwear.
“Put some pants on.” I said as I rolled my eyes.
She smiled. “Good to see you too Vera.” She teased.
I walked into her brightly colored apartment behind her and saw she had yet another unfinished painting on another easel in the middle of the room next to the other three I saw a few months ago.
“Why don't you ever finish what you start? This place is already crowded enough without the easels.” I said, knowing my words would be disregarded by her. We are best friends after all.
“I just haven't had a chance. None of my art is selling and I have to work in order to help get Scott through law school and-”
I cut her off before she could finish. “Well it's not like you're gonna get out of this shit hole anything soon.”
Giselle smiled and laughed a little. “It could be worse. I could be living with you in D.C.”
This got a laugh out of me. I took a seat on a barstool at her countertop “Margarita?” I asked. “Nope, just scotch and wine,” she replied, handing me a glass from behind the counter and a bottle of wine.
“Wow...you know me so well…” I groaned. Giselle grinned at my sarcasm.
“I'm surprised you still haven't moved out of D.C. though.” she said, turning the subject back to something important.
“Well it's not like I can find a job as a dancer anywhere else. I'll lose all my progress that I've made!” I whined. Truth be told, I was scared to move away from D.C. I've lived there for so long and my dancing was becoming more well known that I didn't want to risk all that anywhere else.
Giselle let out a sigh. “It was worth a shot.” she muttered, taking a drink of her scotch.
“So anyways...about why I came here…” I began, “something happened in D.C, and I'm going to be out for a while.” I tried not mentioning the fall of the world’s intelligence organization, S.H.I.E.L.D.
“If this is about the whole “S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra” thing, I already know. Someone released all the information that day.” She said. My jaw dropped.
“How did you…?”
“They showed it on the news. Apparently they got permission from someone named Nix Forym. Capitol Hill is interviewing Natasha Romanoff in two days.”
I was about to reply when her front door opened. “Gis! I'm home!” Boomed the deep voice of Scott.
Giselle dashed toward the door and wrapped her boyfriend in a big hug. “Hi baby!” She said, planting a kiss on his cheek.
I rolled my eyes, taking another sip of wine, “Get a room you two.”
“Hey Veronica.” He said, turning his attention towards me.
“Hi,” I waved slightly.
“What brings you here?” He asked, following Giselle as she walked back to the ‘kitchen.’
“Just, wanted to see my best friend...and her boyfriend.”
Tension filled the air. Scott and I had a bit of a history together, and it wasn't one we liked bringing up. Giselle was oblivious to it all, and thank God for that.
We never told her, mainly because we didn't want her getting tangled up in our shit.
To put it nicely, Scott and I had a bit of a misunderstanding...
However, the entire thing was much more complicated than that.
YOU ARE READING
His Little Ballerina- B. Barnes
FanfictionThe Red Room was known for training deadly assassins such as Natalia Romanova, the Black Widow. What they didn't intend to train, was Valeriya Villanova, an asset gone Rouge. But before she escaped the madness and became the monster she was always d...
