𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑨 | in which a normal, dreary, woman has greatness thrust upon her, and with it an instructor who is not a perfect soldier but a good man.
Join Quinn, a lowly I.T. at S.H.I.E.L.D., as her already chaotic domestic life gets throw...
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THE MORNING SUNS dull warm rays have barely begun to make an appearance over the Washington monument, giving the nation's capital a sense of awakening with its light. She had been up long before sunrise, the rhythmic sounds of her shoes hitting the pavement beneath her have engulfed most of her senses, leaving her trapped within the group of runners that she was clustered in. Her lungs burn with each biting breath she takes, as she tries to push herself to the front of the group. Her legs begin to tremble with each body she passes, her calves are left straining up until she reaches the front, where she takes in a deep (deeper than her panting) breath of relief.
A sense of accomplishment washes over her, a smile makes itself at home on her lips. She was first and that's all that mattered to her at that moment. She didn't expect competition when her roommate, Jo, insisted her in joining their running troop - The Joggernauts; and she was surprised to see that there was some. It gave her the extra push she needed to keep on her toes. If she wasn't so competitive she'd be in the back of the pack with Jo. She couldn't blame Jo for being a slow runner, in fact, Jo wasn't particularly slow she just had the advantage of going through law enforcement school to keep her in the rungs. Jo didn't.
Another padding of feet alerted her that someone was coming up from behind her - and fast. Her cheeks burned, her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she tried to pump her legs fast but nothing seemed to push her faster than the set of feet that was now next to her. She was determined to get ahead of the person, no matter who it was. Although she could probably take a guess at who it was. She threw a side glance at the body next to her briefly before focusing back on the pavement ahead of her. A soft chuckle from him drifted over to her, forcing her to roll her eyes.
Maddox Henson - the founder of the group and the self-proclaimed fastest man in Washington D.C. Otherwise known as the reason most of the female individuals in the troop are still here. No doubt that's why Jo accepted his invitation to the group. He was lean and muscular, he heavily depended on running as his means to stay fit.
They always went head to head with each other. Some days Maddox would come in first - other days it'd be her. Today has been up in the air between the two of them, although she was straining to keep pace with him at the moment, slightly lagging behind. That's when she was blinded by the suns ray finally making their first appearance from behind the monument. She glanced down at her watch that doubled as a heart-rate monitor to look at the time. Seven hundred. It was about time that she head home to get ready for work.
Regrettably, Quinn begins to slow her pace down to a light jog, listening to Maddox's triumphant chuckle as she pulled back. The further from the front she, the closer she was to Jo, whose face looked as red as a tomato from the amount of strain she was putting into keeping up with the group. Her chest was heaving rapidly, causing Quinn to grow concerned that she may pass out from exhaustion at any given moment. Jo glances over to her roommate and opens her mouth to speak but nothing seems to come out except heaving gasps for air. She, in turn, groans in exasperation - she was tired. Quinn places a hand on her shoulder for a moment to encourage her that the run should only last for a little longer and she can push through it. Jo's excruciating pace to her was seemingly pleasant for Quinn. It gave her a moment for her calves to relieve the tension that had been building up.
