" so many assume. so little know "
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in which a bad mouthed agent is assigned to help the walking talking patriarchal symbol of what is right and what is wrong. and in the process of it all, learns how much she needed the desk duty
BOOK ONE | St...
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WASHINGTON D.C. america
____________________________
CORTEZ
I AM not typically a nice person. I can admit that to you. And I think we can all agree with that.
I never really cared for people other than myself, or my family. I never really had a reason to. I grew up in world where people climbed on others to get to the top. And I hated a majority of the world around me.
So I wasn't entirely sure what brought me to work at Shield. I wasn't entirely sure what helped me get out of bed every morning. I mean, if I hated a majority of the world around me, why did I fight like hell to save it?
I guess my hatred for bullies out weighs my hatred for the world. Plus, there was nothing better than kicking ass and taking names.
The annoying thing came when I actually allowed someone into my heart. Someone other than my cat, my dealer, even Nia. Someone that I didn't expect or really want to let in.
I was fighting like hell to make sure I didn't allow Steve Rogers to gain even a smallest part of it; because I didn't need any friends. I didn't want any friends. They were distractions. They were annoying, needy, and don't even get me started on the amount of effort they needed.
That's why I liked Whiskey. She didn't need any real attention. Hell, as long as I fed her, she wanted nothing to do with me.
So maybe Nia was right in saying that I was acting slightly out of character by doing something nice for someone other an myself.
But I wasn't exactly some monster. I knew that Steve Rogers did have a shitty life and he deserved some type of reconciliation for what happened. He deserved at least some closure.
I hope that seeing Peggy Carter would help him get that. Maybe it would help push him into a new life; help him get on with it.
And then my mission would be complete; and Fury would get me off desk duty. I'd be able to meet up with Natasha in Russia and kill Maxwell.
It was early in the morning when I knocked on Steve's apartment door. It was a Saturday and while I would typically be nursing a coma inducing hangover at this time, I was up before the sun. My mind was awake and I could never really turn it off once it was.
I stood uncomfortably outside the door, my legs stiff from the run I had went on before the sun came up. I had changed from my workout clothes, and was now wearing jeans and a Shield sweatshirt.
