Something More [The Avengers: 1]

The Ice [1]

The world was strangely cold as I woke up. In fact, it was freezing. But that isn't what bothered me. I should've been dead. My ears rang softly. From what, I don't know. My last memories flashed before my eyes. The plane. The bombs. Peggy's voice. Staring at the ice before me. Putting the plane down. The cold chill of ice. The panic. The peace. Then darkness. I stared at the ceiling as I thought. The ceiling fan turned lazily above me. I glanced at the walls, around the room. Was that a radio playing in the background? Where am I?

Slowly, I lifted my legs over the side of the bed, allowing myself to sit up as I took everything in. I forced the plane down into the arctic. I was fully submerged in water. In ice. I should be dead. How did they find me? I slowly scanned the room as my eyes and ears adjusted to the new environment, the ringing beginning to fade. I focused my eyes on every object, before I heard the radio become suddenly louder with excitement. I glanced at it, then at the window behind me, listening to a car honking. The radio announcer's voice had picked up from his bored tone, and in that moment my attention turned fully to the radio. The game sounded so familiar. It was almost as if...

The door opened, shocking me out of my thoughts as my head whipped around to face it. A women walked into the room. I narrowed my eyes. She smiled at me with too-dark of a shade of lips. Her brown hair fell into curls past her shoulders instead of into a neat bun behind her head. Her tie was too long for a woman's uniform, and the color didn't match any service tie I had ever seen. Her jacket was nowhere in sight, leaving her white uniform top exposed and herself unnamed and unranked.

"Good morning," she greeted, closing the door behind her. She glanced at her watch briefly. "Or, should I say, afternoon?" She crossed her arms in front of her as I stared at her with confusion.

"Where am I?" I breathed.

She took a deep breath, as if she were reciting lines. "You're in a recovery room in New York City." Her smile seemed natural on her face, although the rest of her body language looked defensive.

I scanned her for a moment. She was small, no threat at all. I could easily take her out and run if forced to. Although, if she was sent in here, there were no doubts guards posted outside the door. I looked back to the radio, listening to the announcer. It clicked, and I looked back at the woman in front of me, a hard glare now in my eyes. "Where am I really?" I ask, lowering my tone to a more threatening one.

She sucked in a breath, which was only a fraction of a second to the world, but to gave me all the confirmation I needed to know something was wrong. "I'm afraid I don't understand," she replied sweetly with a smile, despite the nervous look in her eye.

"The game. It's from May, 1941. I know 'cause I was there." She dropped her smile, her entire face showing a nervous, yet steadily growing fear. Her eyebrows raised as I stood up from the bed. "Now I'm going to ask you again." I approached her with slow, deliberate steps. She may not look dangerous, but I learned looks can be deceiving. "Where am I?"