The Seventh Avenger

INTERLUDE

His door was unlocked.

And Nick Fury never left his house with his front door unlocked.

Knowing immediately that someone was in his house, he quickly drew the gun that he always carried with him in his back pocket, before he raised his gun and kicked open his front door-

-only to be met with the sight of a .22 Rimfire being pointed directly between his eyes.

Damn.

Though when he saw who it was that was pointing the gun, he almost dropped his in shock.

"You're not supposed to be here until next month," Fury snaps flatly, his good eye fixing on her in front of him, his mouth working it's way into a frown.

She doesn't even flinch at the harsh tone of his voice. Instead, the gun remains steady in her iron like grip, the point of it still aimed directly between the director's eyes. She does however ever so slightly tilt her head, causing her blonde waves to cascade over one of her shoulders. An almost cat-like smirk of amusement works it's way onto her face as her head moves, revealing her pearly whites to the director in front of her. "And to think that I'd thought you'd be pleased to see me," she muses. "But honestly Nick, I would've thought that your hospitality skills would've improved since the last time I saw you. And yet here you are, with the gun still pointed at my face."

He takes note of her words, before he then somewhat reluctantly and slowly, lowers his gun, watching as she does the same after a moment of hesitation. Once both weapons are held harmlessly by their sides, Fury spits out, "How's being dead?"

"You've asked me that every time I pay a visit since this started ten years ago, and every time I give you the same response," she snaps back in response, an unimpressed look on her face. "What do you think?"

The glare on his face hardens, as does the grip on his gun. "I'm sorry but what were you expecting? 'Cause they'll be no Mr Nice Guy crap from me. You broke into my home and then pulled a gun on me, rather than doing what any sane person would do which would be to call out a warning. But I guess you got a kick out of it, huh?"

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't."

"You're infuriating."

"That's what being dead does to you."

Fury lets out an angry sigh at this, casting his face towards the heavens, shaking his head as he does so. How was it possible that she was as annoying as she was? And that he had to deal with her?

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I didn't think that it wasn't important," she now says, dragging Fury's attention back to her in front of him, where he was annoyed to find that she still wore the smirk on her face. But it didn't quite meet her eyes, which he only just noticed had both bags and purple bruises under them, informing him that she was in desperate need of a good nights sleep. This almost made him feel slightly bad for talking to her the way that he had been. Almost.

"You're in need of a good night sleep," he remarks not unkindly.

Too his surprise, she only gives a small, sarcastic snort at this as she raises her hand to slam the .22 Rimfire handgun into the thigh holster strapped to her small thigh (and he only said small as she was and always had been a petite woman). "Yeah, well, what else is new?" She asks sarcastically with a small shake of her head, her waves of hair moving about at the movement."I've been sleeping with one eye open for a long time now, Nick. Sleep's something that I've managed to live without."

His eye flickers to the bags under her eyes again before he sends her a pointed look. "Mhm. Tell that to those shadows under your eyes."

She raises one of her small hands briefly in a wave of dismissal at his words. "A minor casualty for serving the greater good. I'd thought you'd understand what with your eye patch and everything."