Tricked // Chapter One

(y/n) - your name
(e/c) - Eye color
(h/c) – Hair Color
Leaving your apartment for the first day of summer in Washington DC, you’re ecstatic. So much hard work, sweat, and tears and you’ve done it. You’re starting the first day as an intern at S.H.E.I.L.D. They haven’t initially told you what you’ll be working on for them, but who cares! They’re starting over anew after the near catastrophe with Hydra, and are helping to rebuild New York. It’s only been a few weeks since the Hydra incident, and hiring replacements was the first priority, even if they are only temporary. You’ve always wanted to help people, but to be in the thick of the world’s defense quarters … You swallow barely being able to take it all in. Glowing in the moment you notice that you’re ten minutes late.

Taking the train, you can’t help but roll back and forth on your feet, how on earth did you lose track of time? You get to the broken building in about ten minutes. You cringe looking at the wreckage. The building itself has been cleared of most of the debris, but multiple scrapes and entire floors have been nearly taken out, and are only now getting the attention they desperately need. It’s surrounded with temporary metal stands, the wrecks of the air ships are piled around the water and the surrounding city. Boats and trucks with gangs of people cleared the wreckage from the water and the streets. Easily over a dozen cranes, bull dozers and trucks with two hundred or so crewmen around. It’s not the chaos that it was a few days ago, but the scars on the surrounding landscape are still there. Besides shield’s obvious casualties, much of surrounding neighborhood was covered with rubble. The two airships had decimated a good portion of the surrounding area with their spiral fall downward. Most of the pieces of the airships have been recovered, the rest simply being pulled out for scrap you assume.
You exhale, nostrils flaring you pick your way through the cleared path to the now-healing headquarters. Out of habit you bite the inside of your cheek, noting that the other interns have probably already left the initial meeting point. You nearly gallop into the lobby, hurtling through paired glass doors only to be showered by a cascade of sparks.
Upon entering the building, you are immediately assaulted by a deafening amount of noise, and for a moment you worry that the loss might be permanent. Sparks fall from the ceiling and you attempt to make your way to the large Eagle logo statue in the middle of the concrete lobby. Deciding that your vision and hearing are pretty important, you cover your ears and lower your gaze to the ground, making a better effort to avoid the piles of broken glass. More sparks are rain down from the ceiling as someone rushes forward, handing you a hard hat.
‘Are you one of the Interns? You’re late!’
She yells over the echoing drills and hammers
‘Yes! And I know! Sorry!’
You shout back placing the hard hat on your head as you look up. She motions you to follow her. Eyes widening in shock, you recognize her from multiple papers. It’s Agent Hill – she’s almost always next to Fury in any press coverage. Following her still, you swallow, a sudden feeling of importance falling upon your shoulders.  You escape down a hallway that has somehow survived the majority of the damage, but is receiving a new paint job.
‘Apologies for the noise, intern, but we have a lot of fixing around here to do - which is where you come in.’
She continues walking at a brisk trot - making you half jog to keep up with her.
‘What’s your name intern?’
‘(y/n)’
You answer quickly, scrunching your nose up as the paint fumes may have been silent, but didn’t make up for it in scent (awkward, reword or split into two sentences).
‘Good name.’ she replies, making a sharp left turn heading towards a door marked stairs. You cough as the fumes start to creep into your lungs making it harder to get a decent amount of oxygen. The effort of matching her stride doesn’t help much either.
‘S.H.I.E.L.D. has taken up a new incentive to bring in younger men and women to begin training new employees as soon as possible - we need good people that we can trust.’
The brunette turns to look at you, taking in your brow furrowed in confusion. You had just written about how you wanted to help people no matter where they were … you didn’t think this summer internship would translate into a full time job … You try to stop chewing your lip when you notice her eyes.
‘Also, I’m agent Hill. Please let me know if you have any concerns - but for now it’s my job to get you where you need to be.’
‘I’m so sorr-‘
“For being late? You can’t do anything to change that now.’
Agent Hill curtly cuts you off and opens a door before turning right into an adjoining hall. The rest of the time, you walk in silence with her. Until finally you get to a room marked with a paper sign underneath with ‘Interns’ scrawled on it. I thought they’d be a little more organized . . .
‘The rest of the interns are inside - you’ll be able to catch up with the job intro, you haven’t missed much.’
Agent Hill pushes the door open, allowing you to step in.

****
You leave the room, having stayed a few minutes just to apologize for being late and to ask if you had missed anything important from the session leader.
Sighing in relief, you close the door to room and start walking back the way you came.
Only was it a right? Or a left? There’s nothing really to distinguish these hallways from the others except the signs beside the stairs. That and all of the rooms and their numbers. Only you’re at 768. Is that towards the stairs? Or farther away? Where is the ‘stairs’ sign? You grumble as you realize you’re lost.
Trying to retrace your steps, you think you’re headed in the right direction when some bloke in a suit steps into the hallway. The late fifty-something man locks his office door, at least you assume it’s his office.
There’s nothing really worth noticing about this slightly balding, grey haired, portly man in front of you. With a click the bolt slides into place, locking what you conclude must be his office. Standing up straight, he turns his head in your direction noticing your presence.
His bright green eyes pierce yours and you blink, taken aback. But when you look again, you’re met with watery blues.
Forcing yourself to be professional you robotically shove your hand towards the man to greet him as you approach.
“Hello, I’m (y/n). I just started today, and I think I’ve gotten a bit lost. Do you know the way to the front of the building?”
You ask with a polite smile formed on your face, nothing you haven’t done about twenty times that day. The round man stares at you, his eyes roaming over your torso a little too long to be considered normal. You begin to wish that you hadn’t bothered to say anything at all.
He finally reciprocates your handshake, surprising you when his grip is so strong. Lastly, he meets your eyes, finished with the rest of your body.
“So nice to meet you . . ?’
“(y/n)”
You respond automatically, glad that you can rely on some verbal skill you’ve had to use over and over again.
“Apologies, I didn’t quite catch that when you first spoke.’
He releases your hand.
“You’ll want to continue this path and then take a left, the stairs should be there. I trust you can find your way from there?’
He almost purrs, and you can feel your hand recoiling just a little too quickly to be considered polite.
“Y-yes, Thank you.’
You squeak as you step away at a pace that Agent Hill would be proud of. As you take a left, you look back down from where you came from. But the man in the suit is gone.
Shivering, you notice that the stairs are not to the immediate left, but to the right.
Rolling your eyes, you take the stairs heading back to the familiar nauseating sent of drying paint. Perhaps he had made a mistake? You think. But there was something in his voice, that tone that leads you to ponder. You shrug, doubting you’ll run into him again. The first day is finally over.

******

It’s been two weeks since you’ve started your internship, and you’ve barely 20 minutes to call your mom, let alone have down time. You’re always scheduling workers to come in or make sure that some higher ups lunch meetings are planned just at the right time. And not always at S.H.I.E.L.D., your work often comes home with you. The amount of dishes, laundry, and just general mess you’ve been unable to get to makes you cringe just thinking about it.
You tilt your head back and groan, wishing you could be anywhere but at your desk.
The desk is located out at the front of a stack of offices. If anything, you’re the secretary’s secretary of the recovery department, which has recently grown to be massive.
‘So much for helping people.’
You grumble, pushing yourself away from your assigned computer. Standing up you decide its time to grab your third cup of coffee. You head by numerous empty rooms on the way to the break room. It’s nearly ten o’clock in the morning, and your sleep has been intermittent and rare since joining SHIELD. You’ve only been there for two hours, but you can feel yourself falling into a sleep deprived haze. You head down for the third time to day, down a long hallway lined with empty offices. Currently, it’s the only kitchen with working appliances – for reasons that mystify you, SHIELD has not bothered to move the fridge or the coffee maker anywhere near you – or your coworkers.
You push your (h/c) hair out of your eyes, just as you feel hands on your elbows pinning them to your side. You’re so shocked you forgot to shout as the stranger begins to drag you into one of the many ‘under recovery’, unoccupied rooms.
‘What’re you – get OFF!’
Kicking back with as much force as you can, you land a hit on their shin. Hearing your captor swear you suddenly get thrown to the floor. Of course this happens when the mandatory self-defense classes start TOMORROW. Groaning internally, you scramble to push yourself up when a second unsettlingly smug voice chimes in.
‘I wouldn’t run dear, you’ll find what we have to say very, very interesting.’
You stop, turning to look at your attackers. You vaguely recognize one of them, you’ve passed him at many of the meetings or lunches you organized for the Higher Ups, but had never given him much of a second glance. He wears a navy blue business suit, clean-shaven with lanky limbs. The other is one of the many construction workers that have been hired, wearing a filtration mask. You can only see his brown eyes, dust covers his hard hat, neon vest, white t-shirt, and raggy jeans. He’s clearly the muscle.
Suit and Mask, you mentally label them. As you push yourself up on shaky knees, the empty, dark room comes to life as at least twenty computer screens light up around you.
As your eyes flick from screen, to screen, a lump forms in your throat. You watch your mother on the phone as your father busies himself with a pot on the stove, your best friend jots something down in a note book, and many more of your relatives, friends, even old school mates go about their lives on the screens. You’re nearly surrounded by all the people you’ve ever cared about.
Your skin breaks out in a cold sweat as you lock your (e/c) eyes with the cold blues of suits.
‘W-whatever it i-is with m-me, y-you c-can leave them o-out’
You manage to stutter.
“Oh I should hope so, Miss (y/n).’
Suit grins at you, pressing down on a small remote with his left hand as the screens go dark again, leaving a solitary window to illuminate suit and mask from behind.
‘You see girl, we’re looking for someone like you to represent Midgard.’
You swallow hard. Thinking briefly of what you’re going to tell your friends and family.
‘M-midgard?’
You squeak, confused, ‘What -’
‘It does not matter what that means, only where you are going.’
His thin tight lips form a curved sneer, ‘An opportunity will come to represent itself - and you will take it.
‘H-how long will I be gone?’ ’
‘Again, irrelevant. You will be accompanying one of our own as his assistant.’
He leers at you, while mask just continues to stay silent.
‘Be sure not to mention this meeting, we’ll be keeping a close watch.’
You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it won’t go.
Stomach churning, you turn to leave, when suit’s voice stops you.
“Report me, and there will be two more to take my place… However, will someone be able to take the place of them?’
You don’t need to bother to turn around to view your loved ones as the computer screens flicker to life once more.
Pushing the door open, you desperately try to compose yourself as you walk to your desk. Opening the camera on your phone, you fix your face to look somewhat normal. But the knot in your stomach refuses to ease, as you rack your brain trying to think of who they were. As you sit down, your breathing becomes shallow and you begin to hyperventilate - no, no, no- you take a couple of deep breaths as you tightly grip your desk. Calm, calm, it’s okay it’s okay, you repeat to yourself as tears begin to well up in your eyes.
Not at work, not here, not now - a small ping comes from your computer, a momentary distraction that has come just at the right time. Blinking back the tears, hiccuping as you regain your normal breathing, you open your email.
It’s a request to see Agent Hill immediately.
Swallowing, you check your appearance once more in your phone and decide to make a quick stop in the bathroom.
Fixing your eyes, you finally make it over to her office. The trip is quick, as you’ve figured out a few of the massive, unending hallways.
‘Intern (y/n)’
She greets you as you enter her make-shift office, raising an eyebrow, she asks,
‘Something wrong?’
‘N-no, just found out that a pet died.’
You mumble, twisting your fingers subconsciously.
‘I-I’d rather not talk about it.’
‘Understood.’
She registers, nodding. Her eyes yet to have moved from her desktop.
‘I have some news that may take your mind off of that.’
Your stomach knots up again.
‘Mind - You are not allowed to let anyone know where you are actually going and if they ask, you’re going to New Mexico to help rebuild a small town that succumbed to a severe bout of tornados.’
‘Tornados?’ You question, eye brows raised ‘I was unaware they’re a natural phenomenon in New Mexi -‘
“They’re not, but that is where the rest of your fellows are going.’
You swallow, hard.
‘And w-where am I going?’
She sighs, and looks away from her desktop and right into your eyes.
‘You’re going to Asgard - we’re sending some of our own heads to check it out and to make sure that the Asgardians mean no harm. It’s basically to establish an alliance between our worlds - since New York and the London incident, we have great need to build an alliance between our two worlds.’
Realizing you’ve been holding your breath up until now, you exhale. She moves her eyes back to the screen.
‘The objective is to send Midgardians or ‘earthlings’” she quoted with her fingers ‘Up to Asgard to view what their world has to offer but also to establish a positive coexistence.’
Your mouth falls open. So that’s what Midgard means. Balking you squeak out ‘I thought this was just an internship?’
‘Yep, it’s definitely that - you stated that you wanted to travel, and that pertains to this particular mission.’
She glances up at you again, and you desperately try to keep your composure, trying to willfully pull back the need to sweat.
‘Now, you’ll be going to keep track of our agents and representatives and making sure that everything runs smoothly when you’re there. You’ll basically be continuing your work here up there. It should be a walk in the park. You’re lucky that you’re the one who gets to leave …’
Hill looks up again, staring at you just a little too long.
“I’ll be okay to go.’
You say in a rush, trying to ensure the safety for those threatened just minutes before. “I mentioned that I wanted to travel in my application didn’t I?’ You quip, smiling despite the circumstances.
‘How long will I be gone?’
‘about a week. Be ready on Monday to ship out. Meet me at here, at my office, and I will introduce from there to who you’ll be working with.’
You close your eyes, trying to absorb this.
‘Make all the necessary phone calls this weekend, let your love ones know you’ll be unreachable - in a desolate area of New Mexico - with no cell access.’
She pulls open a file cabinet rifling through numerous alphabetized papers, she doesn’t even make it through the file marked A before she pulls out a file labeled ‘Asgardians’.
“You may want to make yourself familiar with this over the weekend, it’s all the info that will be necessary for your time spent there.’
‘Understood.’
You respond quickly, nodding as soon as you say it, reaching for the folder, you tuck it under your arm.
‘See you then.’