Mockingbird

Chapter 1

Bye work, thought Flavia, placing her notebook and her phone in her purse.

"See ya, Pat!" She lifted one corner of her mouth in an almost-smile and left the office. Pat, whose hair was already a little bit white, only nodded, not even bothering to look up from the screen of his computer. Patrick was always like that - just work, work and work.

She left the building, smiling, as she breathed fresh air. She loved her work, it's just that the smell of print and old papers, and the lack of good, fresh air up there in her office wasn't very nice. And that's why she made a point of walking every day through Central Park, enjoying the few moments of freedom.

That day, she needed her rest after a whole day's work, and the green of trees and closeness of nature made her feel better, calmer. After a fifteen minute walk she sat down on a bench and closed her eyes.

Finally.

Slowly, she breathed in and out several times, then looked around. Her good, ol' New York. The City That Never Sleeps. Even though it was almost ten o'clock in the evening, people were everywhere - walking in the streets, hurrying past her in the park, wandering here and there, without any destination. Flavia smiled to herself and gently stood up. It was time to get home.

Her tiny flat was just on the other side of the park, a twenty minute walk from work. It wasn't far, so she wasn't really tired, and on the other side of the door she knew someone was waiting for her to come back.

"Hi John" she smiled happily while hanging her coat. She took off her shoes and hurried inside. "I know, I'm sorry, you wanted to go to the park with me today... You'll forgive me, right?" She kneeled down in front of her german shepherd to pet him. The dog was visibly offended, as always when his mistress went missing for a whole day.

"I know, man, I know" Flavia smiled fondly when the dog licked her on the cheek, put food in a bowl and went to the toilet. John-Locke was her only companion in the last four, long years, and frankly, she was never happier.

The woman stood before a mirror and washed her hands, then carefully, with a slight grimace took out her lenses. Even though she wore them for longer than she could remember, she never quite managed to get used to the awful feeling. She blinked a few times and her dark brown eyes again became golden. She looked in the mirror again and quickly turned her head. She didn't like her eyes. She was a freak.

She tied back her dark hair and went to her room.

And hello, work...

Flavia sighed heavily, took out her notebook and sat on the sofa. John-Locke came to her a moment later laying his head on her knees. He fell asleep and she smiled at him. After a whole day of doing nothing he's probably as tired as herself... And she had materials for her next article to prepare.

She bulleted a few points and took out her laptop. She started to type, quite fast, listening to the sound of nails hitting the keyboard. She managed not to bite her nails for whole two months, which was her big-small success.

Her boss - and friend - was nagging her for a long time already to get an interview with one of the heroes from a group known as "The Avengers". She heard of the New York massacre from several years ago, she heard of other incidents those people took part in, but she never quite witnessed anything. She came to US six years before and since that time nothing worth an article in the news happened. Well, there was a certain Tony Stark, the eccentric billionaire proposed to his girlfriend two years ago. Flavia wrote the article herself. Now though, nothing foreshadowed anything that would mean the heroes' pension would be coming to an end, and one should think it would be better that it stayed like that. Their lack of activity meant a peaceful lack of oncoming alien invasions.

She didn't want to mess with their lives, she didn't want to take any interviews. She didn't want to disturb that peace. What could happen if they suddenly felt like coming back? Doing something heroic that would place them again on the first pages? She knew it wasn't rational, she knew it was utter rubbish and absolutely nonsense, but she certainly prefered to write about latest gossip, political scandals or local small-scale heroes such as that man who rescued a child from fire. The Avengers weren't needed.

But still... She knew Patrick won't ever leave her alone. He will go after her, nag her, ask, plead, until she finally snaps and says 'all right! I'll do that!'. So to spare them both some embarrassing moments, she'll look for some info on those god-forgotten heroes herself. She had no idea how to begin, how to start this whole Avengers business, and even with whom to talk. She didn't want to do this with Mr. Stark, she knew she couldn't.

She'd feel too little.

The Black Widow was in Latvia, and Flavia really didn't want to go to Europe. Pity, because that was the only woman in the team... She secretly hoped Natasha Romanoff would be the one answering her questions.

She was a bit disappointed. It will be quite difficult to talk with males with overgrown ego.

She looked further, but to her dismay, she found out that the only possibility for her would be the one person she never wanted to meet. Tony Stark. The only Avenger left in town.

Hawkeye was in Miami with his family and it looked like he left his bow never to take it again; Mr. Banner was researching human genetics in Tokyo; Captain became a charity worker in Africa, whatever the hell that meant; and Thor was as much a mystery as he was before, and nothing was known as to his whereabouts. When she first heard about the Norse God, she wanted to laugh. A mythical Thunderbolt-wielding Son of Odin who runs around the city in a red cape and a hammer. It sounded like a bad joke, or a children's story. Only when she watched the videos with him, she reluctantly agreed that he might be real. Well, for now he was gone somewhere with his brother, so he wasn't available for an interview... Whether she liked it or not, the only possibility was the man with the iron suit.

***

She was sitting behind her desk for two hours already, still staring at her computer screen. She did nothing, made no progress regarding her upcoming interview with Mr. Stark, she had no idea where to start. Patrick was on cloud nine when he heard about her decision that morning and he promised that if she was successful, he'll pay her 25% more. He probably secretly hoped that the article will get the Avengers back on stage and with them, the newspaper that found them again. Every minute, Flavia hated her decision more and more. Though, it was better to get it over with, she'll ask a few basic questions and go home, and everybody will be happy.

"Flavia, darling. I've managed to call Mrs Stark." Patrick lent on the doorway, with an impossibly proud and happy face. She could understand it, it was great for their paper, and all, but...

"Awesome," she said, trying to make her fake enthusiasm as believable as possible. "When do I go?"

"I had to ask her real nice, but..." he made a long, dramatic pause, "The day's 19 June."

Flavia blinked. Three days.

"Fantastic. If you've got any suggestions I'd like to have them 'till tomorrow," she sighed, turning the pages of her very used notebook.

"I knew you'd say that!" Patrick beamed proudly and produced a (frighteningly thick) folder from behind himself and placed it on the desk. "It's our chance," he said while leaning forward. If he meant it as a motivational speech, it wasn't that good. "You can do it." He smiled and left her with her thoughts, notes and the folder, which she hesitatingly opened.

When she read the first few lines, she quickly closed the folder and placed it in the bottom of a drawer. There was no way she was going to ask those questions. She'll never, ever, for any money, inquire what is Tony Stark's suit size in the groin.

Fantastic, awesome, amazing three days to come...