The Last Hope

Chapter 12

I walked smoothly down the glistening, white hallway of the S.H.I.E.L.D. New York HQ. Steve walked to the left of me, his eyes straight ahead, his right hand holding Colonel Philips file. Part of me felt silly, running to Fury because of a mere look alike. But the other part of me knew it wasn’t some freaky coincidence.

I felt unsure if this was the right thing to do. What I really wanted to do right now was curl up in a ball on the couch and just stare at the wall, thinking through all the possibilities. I didn’t want to be wrong about this and I couldn’t afford to. I had barely kept under Fury tolerance line from Day 1 and he would take anything as an excuse to put me under lock down. I guess in a way I was sort of a mix between Banner and my cousin Tony. A dangerous person who can set fire to the room if angered, or if I was repossessed by Loki but also quick to come back at anything with a witty remark. Funny how that works.

Steve and I neared the black metal door which led to the conference room and I remembered why this feeling was so familiar to me.

**********flashback************

“I don’t think I can do this,” I said nervously, my eyes darting from the building across the street to Peggy.

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured me, rubbing my shoulder. I bit my lip.

“What if she doesn’t remember me?” I asked, glancing warily at the foster home. Peggy sighed, placed both her hands on my shoulders, and looked me straight in the eye

“You, Demetra Kristen Stark, have killed thousands of people, is literally invincible, can create fire, and knows how to fight. If you can do all that, you can walk into the foster home and see your sister again. Clear?”

I swallowed and nodded my head, embarrassed that I had been so nervous. But what if she freaked out on me? Screaming that I left her in the care of strangers and thinking a monster of me? What if she had forgotten me entirely?

She could have. It has been 2 years since the ‘accident’ so I was now 16 and have been working with Peggy in her division along with Stark for the past 2 years. The SSR had been shut down so now we were a part of an organization filled with spies, such as me, but we had no name. I was helping Stark on it, on the name, on gathering people, on training people. We were co-founders of this unnamed organization. Colonel Philips had died a year ago, his son York now taking over his position. He was an okay guy I guess.

I ran my fingers through my long, but clean, brown hair once again to remove any knots and then I slowly started my way towards the foster home. I felt uneasy, unsure. I just wanted to run away and think all of this through about 400 more times and then I think I’ll be good.

I came to the rusty black gate that allowed entrance into the house’s small front yard. The house itself was small. A 2 story house painted white but darkened in places with wear. Blue trim and black shutters, a green door halfway open, probably to air out the house in this horrible summer heat. The yard was well kept, flowers adorning the side of the house.

It seemed like a nice place but even though this placed seemed cute and quaint, inside could be tyrants, ordering kids here and about. I walked up the cracked, brick sidewalk.