Now sprinting, I rounded another corner. "Just keep running!" My sides felt like they were splitting and I couldn't catch my breath, I was starting to feel dizzy. I could hear the men's boots hitting the pavement not far behind me, but I couldn't speed up, I was running flat out. I cursed myself for taking up swimming instead of running as a form of exercise to keep me fit.

I hurtled round another corner, jumped over a bin, nearly fell but caught myself just in time. "They can't hurt you, their guns are useless. Just keep running! Keep running and you'll be in the clear." But I couldn't, I could feel myself slowing down and my body giving up. I must have sprinted about 5 miles, and whilst my legs had turned to jelly, the men behind me didn't seem to tire.

I needed to find a place to hide, and fast. But there was nowhere! They were chasing me down a long, narrow sidestreet, there wasn't even a dumpster for me to crouch behind.

The thuds behind me were getting louder and louder. My legs felt like they were on fire, and were slowing against my will. I couldn't... I can't... I could feel the world slipping away, fading, as if someone was dimming the lights. I couldn't breathe, my lungs were going to burst, and I could feel blood rushing to my head. Everything was spinning now, as I desperately tried to keep my feet moving.

I felt a man roughly grab my arm. This was it. I had lost. "I can't let them take me again. I can't..." The lights went out, the curtain closed, and I was lost to the world.

I could feel my head spinning, and I could smell disinfectant. Well... That was new. As far as I was aware, the men that had captured me knew nothing of cleaning. Still, stranger things have happened, I thought bitterly. I squinted through one eye, and was met with a grey ceiling. No blinding white lights, no torture implements... What was going on? This time I opened both of my eyes, and carefully took in my surroundings. I was in a small room, with no windows andonly two doors, both of which were closed, a bed side cabinet and the bed I was lying on. Something was definitely up.

I sat up, looking for something to arm myself with. Nothing. The room was sparse and empty, the furniture metal and unbreakable. I slid of the bed as quietly as I could, and tiptoed towards the door on my right. I opened it just a crack, and peered through.

My mouth fell open. It was just... A bathroom. A simple, but very modern bathroom. These men had definitely gone up in the world, the last "bathroom" I remembered being supplied by them was a rusty bucket in the corner of my room.

I walked back into the first room, completely perplexed. This was nothing like I remembered from the first thirteen years of my life. So, there were two situations that I could be in. Either the men I remembered from my childhood had managed to make a substantial amount of money, and were so confident they no longer felt it necessary to tie me to a table... Or, I had been captured by someone else.

My blood ran cold. Who could know about me? What would they do? I had worked so hard to lead a quiet life, to stay off the radar; I didn't even allow people to take my photo.

I felt my hands tremble. Then, I heard footsteps on the other side of the door, the door I didn't check. I laid down on my bed as quickly and as quietly as I could, and pretended to still be knocked out. Then perhaps they would leave me for another few hours, while I could work out a plan of action.

I heard someone enter the room. I concentrated very hard on steadying my breathing, and showing no emotion. The man spoke. He had a deep, rumbling voice. He spoke confidently, and I could almost detect a smile behind his words. What he said however, really surprised me.

"You can drop the act y'know. I've been watching you for the last twenty minutes. We are not here to hurt you, we only wish to help."

I opened my eyes and looked to where the voice was coming from. In the doorway stood a tall, dark skinned man, wearing a leather overcoat and, astoundingly, an eyepatch. But no matter how strange his ensemble looked, I was definitely not going to laugh. Although this man looked kind, he did not look forgiving.

I realised he was expecting me to speak. I sat up, and tried my best to sound strong and confident. "Who are you?" I cursed myself, I sounded just as scared as I did when I was a child.

"My name is Director Fury, and I am with SHEILD."

My head was still foggy, but that name rang a bell. SHEILD... Where had I heard that from? He interrupted my thoughts; "I apologise for the treatment you received, the orders were to bring you in quietly and without fuss. I can assure you the officers involved have been reprimanded."

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say, my previous captors had never before apologised to me, and they had dealt out much worse treatment than the soldiers had given me.

He sighed, and pulled a black bag out from his overcoat. "A change of clothes, and feel free to freshen up in the bathroom. Someone will be here to collect you in 20 minutes, please be ready." He then turned on his heel, and exited the room.

For a few moments, I didn't move. I needed to gather my thoughts. Whilst he had been talking however, I had managed to remember where I had heard of SHEILD from. I was at university at the time, and was doing an essay on genetic mutation. From my research, I had found the story of a man named Bruce Banner. A scientist specialising in Gamma radiation, he had had an accident at work, which lead to him mutating into what the media called "The Hulk" whenever he was under stress. The last anyone had heard of him, he had been recruited by a government agency could SHEILD. I can remember asking my professor if he knew anymore information, and being told all he knew that it was deadly private, only a few knew of them and even less knew how to contact them.

I shook myself back to the present, and opened the bag that had been given to me. Out slid a dark blue uniform; a pair of trousers and a jacket. I sighed, then started pulling off my ripped clothes and put on the new outfit. I looked down at myself and frowned. It was incredibly tight fitting, and whilst being stretchy and comfortable, didn't leave much to the imagination as it clung to my curves.

Twenty minutes later, just as promised, a young soldier came to collect me from my room. He simply nodded to me, and started walking, obviously expecting me to follow. I scowled, but, follow I did, as I didn't want to be stuck in that room for very much longer.

We walked for about five minutes. I was urgently trying to commit the route to memory, but the endless white corridors seemed to blur in my mind.

The young soldier stopped in front of a door, and gestured me to go through. I muttered a thanks, (even though he hadn't been much help) took a deep breath, and entered the room.

It took my breath away. I could hear the whirr of engines, and people tapping on computers. Out the immense window at the front of the room, I was shocked to see we were flying high above the clouds.

Someone cleared their throat. I turned, and saw that man again. Director Fury. He had a small smile playing around his lips. I could tell he liked seeing people's reactions to his ship, or plane, or whatever this was.

He simply said "This way Miss Keyes", and I followed him out into another long stretch of corridors.

Authors note:

#The story is post movie, I own nothing apart from the OC, blah blah blah.#

Sorry for the slow start! It was never meant to be that long, but I started writing and.. Well, you know how it is. The pairing will (eventually) be Bruce/OC, with Black Widow/Hawkeye hinted as well. Any constructive criticism would be appreciated, and nice comments even more so. :)