HAZEL WAS SURE THAT SHE LOST THE WEIRDO.

Brown-haired, mid-twenties, slipping in and away before she could see him better. After Sofia, she knew only three types of people could be following her: Agents, kids who watched too many movies, and other people like her, whether his intentions were good or not.

She'd met a few nice kids (Like the curly-haired blonde lady), and a few evil ones (the kid in Queens? The fat one? Creepy). But Hazel didn't want to risk getting caught, she'd stay a bit, and then run. It was her...life. Her own messed up, unstable, and dangerous way of living.

Burning down her parents' old home? It kinda felt good, she also made sure nobody was living in it (nobody did, but a rich old jerk had bought it as storage judging from the odd serums and machines). But it also was pretty dumb afterward...when she almost destroyed the neighboring houses, nobody died, but two people were seriously injured.

Hazel stopped, panting for air. She fell down, back propped against the wall in an alley. A good thing she'd learned? Don't go in strange alleys, stay out, alleys are dark, creepy, gloomy, and contain dangerous things (like Nick Fury or radioactive sludge).

Knowing the rules of survival, she got out of the alley, quick as a flash. 

Funnily enough, next to the alley, was a cafe she knew too well. It seemed to be everywhere now, a big franchise, Hazel Cafe. Which she felt briefly insulted by, but it was gold, they didn't bat an eye if you came in battered and bloody, and the staff all seemed to be veterans of weirdness. Hazel almost burnt her toast to cinders after she saw the Winter Soldier on TV, but a raven-haired lady just offered another one and said that 'yeah, nothing ever happens in Romania...why would anything come here?'

Of course though, Hazel found out a few days later that the Winter Soldier was hiding in Romania. Which was ironic. Even more ironic? The lady sold him out.

The cafe's door opened with a cling of the chimes. A young blonde looked up from the bar and smiled at Hazel something seemed familiar, maybe the creamy pink-and-brown striped shirt with a white apron, maybe the mischievous smile, or maybe the fact that she looked like a lady she had seen on TV.

"Zdraveĭte," Hazel greeted, worried that the cap wasn't gonna mask her identity. Her eyes fell on the blonde's name tag. She raised an eyebrow."Blondie?"

Blondie smiled. "Yeah...name's kinda redacted."

That was normal, everyone redacted their name, or changed it. She's met so many, she'd faked so many names. Her favorite moment? When the rookie S.H.I.E.L.D agent thought she was a Black Widow after she said her name was 'Sheena.'

"So...what can I get you?" Blondie said with a smile. Hazel shrugged. "Coffee?"

"Why not?" Hazel shrugged, and the blonde winked, going behind and shouting to a certain 'Alexis.'

The door chimes rang again. A man in a trench coat and a young guy came in, the guy apparently explaining to him why Stephen King was a classic. Hazel could agree somehow, his books were masterpieces.

The man rolled his eyes and came to the bar, Blondie's eyes briefly widened, before she put on a cautious smile. "Mr. Cavill what can I get you-"

Hazel tried not to snicker, but the other guy snorted. 'Cavill' didn't find it funny. "Well...I'd like an Earl Gray, Mrs..." He looked at her disdainfully. "Blondie."

Blondie didn't take it well. She glared at him and muttered something about him taking a seat.

Hazel already knew this guy was S.H.I.E.L.D, probably a level seven, smart, British, and the kid...was his kid? Adopted, probably. Or trainee. Hazel already had one eccentric stalker weirdo who had freaky powers, she didn't need a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and a Stepthen King fan to be after her as well. 

That guy was probably going to kill her if she said that Holly Gibney was a Mary Sue.

Hazel didn't hesitate, casually going into the ladies bathroom (fun fact: villains always wait for you to finish using the bathroom, never do they interupt), locking herself into a cubicle, shooing out a curious white cat, and facing the wall. Phasing, she had to use her least desired power. Hazel placed her palms on the wall, closing her eyes as she rested her head on the wall. 

"Worthless. Broken. Useless-"

"Stop," A man ordered. "Pierce, you're not helping. Let me take care of this."

The pain broke through her, phasing felt like...she mattered nothing, and she had that idiot leader of HYDRA to thank. And the old scientist, the one who told her to never ever use them, to keep them as the card up her sleeve, not using her phasing made it weak, made it painful. Especially without the gauntlet.

Every piece of her shattered and reformed, it hurt, and it always made her remember HYDRA. Always. It made her remember the pain, it made her remember all the others who were experimented on, made her remember the poor seven year old, made her remember the scared curly haired boy...the one cursed with the same powers like her.

Ah, shit, she was in a alley.

"You know...I'm starting to hate these alleys," A woman commented, kicking away a can, a guy sighed. Hazel sympathized, but the woman had no business commenting, since she wasn't the one cornered.

"I know you do Agent 27-"

"I said it's Mist!"

Mist? What sort of name was that in the name of god?

Hazel attempted to tiptoe away, she wished that phasing came with invisibility as a package deal, but no such luck though. Neither was sneaking around. Some teenage idiot must have left a random potato chip bag, and Hazel wasn't lucky today.

Someone coughed. Hazel hated the fact she was stuck in motion, just like all those stupid movies. "Miss Ivanov?" A man asked cautiously, someone sighed and cursed alleys.

Two choices: Run, or stay and fight. Hazel flicked her hand, but nothing, she flicked it again, it blazed to life. She turned, raising her eyebrows at them.

The woman reminded her of the Winter Soldier after Rumlow forced him to listen to Mamma Mia on repeat, blonde, cold eyes, a dark uniform, and a gun strapped on her belt. She seemed almost bored with the whole situation. The man wore complicated armor, with a familiar logo on the shoulder of the armor.

"This is your chance to back out," Hazel told them. The blonde rolled her eyes, the man looked up as if wondering why god made him do this.

"I would have said we're not here to fight you..." The blonde's eyes flickered over Hazel. "But I'll fight back if you fight me." 

Hazel narrowed her eyes. "Finnish?"

"No."

"Russian?"

"Definitely not."

"... Romanian?"

The blonde nodded with a cryptical smile. "Yes, partly." 

The armored guy looked at them like they were insane, and sighed. "Seriously, again with the bragging about being Romanian?"

"I don't brag," The woman rolled her eyes. "It's not my fault my mom was overly patriotic at times."

"Your mom also married a guy which she didn't figure out until nine years later that he was messed up, and then she almost died, and then you had to stab-" The man was cut off by a glare from the blonde, he sighed, muttering about hills.

Hazel kept glaring at them, hand still aflame. "What do you want from me-" 

"Again?" A voice asked, another women stepped out of the shadows, familiar once more, brown hair tied up in a bun, navy uniform, and S.H.I.E.L.D logo on it's sleeve. She tilted her head at Hazel. "Pleasure to meet you Miss Ivanov. I'm...well, by now I think the whole-"

"Assocition of Runaway Enhanched Individuals knows?" Hazel guessed, and Maria Hill nodded. "You gave it away after the incident with the...pomeranian-"

"OI! I'M NOT A POMERANIAN!" A voice shouted, Hazel spun around madly, the blonde looked as if she just had a heart attack, but the guy just sighed. "I'M A KEEFE-"

"ZIP IT!" Hill ordered. And the 'Keefe' went silent. She turned back to the red-headed Bulgarian "I'm assembling a team...and I'd like you to be on it."

Hazel processed the words.

"Why?" She asked cautiously, S.H.I.E.L.D always meant trouble, and she didn't need more of it.

"Your abilities... As well as that event last week," The agent paused, observing her reaction. "The one in Balchik. The one with the burning house."

Hazel closed her eyes. "Why should I accept?"

"We can help you-" 

"We can help you-" Hill started, but the blonde cleared her voice, Hill raised a eyebrow at her. 

"Mist, as much as I appreciate you not throwing a tantrum like Morgan Stark without Netflix every time you have to go on a mission or talk about the Avengers, please stop interrupting me."

"I know about the phasing."

The pyrokinetic froze. The fire estingushed, the woman's ice blue eyes traced to her hand.

"H...how? Are you like...ex-HYDRA?"

"No," She frowned, Hill raised a eyebrow. "I also know how to fix them, and why it hurts so much."

Hazel narrowed her eyes. "How do you know? And how can you help me?"

The blonde looked down. "A HYDRA agent went undercover at S.H.I.E.L.D, Grant D. Ward," Mist paused, tilting her head. "He made a mistake, though I was HYDRA, let something slip."

Hill sighed and glared at the blonde. "Mist, I said no more keeping secrets from me after the Wakanda incident-" She trailed off, looking behind Hazel, her face darkening, Hazel looked back, not seeing anything unusual. "Miss Ivanov..." She warned. "HYDRA is going to find you."

"And how do I know S.H.I.E.L.D isn't as bad as HYDRA?"

The man looked up before sighing again, he was clearly tired of all the negotiation and would have rather be doing something else. "Well...someone had to put up a figth."

Nick knew someone was there five minutes early. Large, dark, and stealthy as the guy was, Nick knew it.

What he didn't know, was why he also felt a weird whirlpool a few blocks away. He was on a mission, the mission of stopping a woman, the woman who attempted to burn down half of Sofia. He also carefully took note of all the gadgets, alleys, and suspicious creatures (closet he got was a cat).

And yet, it didn't explain why he couldn't find the woman. The mutant narrowed his eyes at the blur of red. 

Six minutes of his dark stalker later, he was done, he spun around. "Who, is it?" He's eyes scanned over the empty street. 

"Me." A voice said planativly, Nick spun around, ready to fight or face whoever it was. But he got knocked over by seemingly the wind, she pushed back, and something grunted. Vanishers, not the first time he fought one. His hand reached into 

"That's not an answer." 

The person sighed, a man in a dark leather coat appeared, he seemed a bit irritated, and had a distasteful expression. "Again Spectre?"

The invisible one grumbled about 'ouchies.'

Nick wasn't sure if this was a joke or not, nobody but five year olds said 'ouchies,' even worse, this guy was S.H.I.E.L.D. He didn't remember why people were scared of it, but he remembered 'experimentation' as a key word. Judgung from the rumors, he knew that this man was here about his powers.

"How can I help you?" Nick finally said, the man raised one eyebrow. At least, it seemed so, since a eyepatch covered his left eye. Always left.  

He started to respond, but instead of the heavy voice, a squeak came out. "What do you think Mr. Creepitastic? Mr. Furious wants you for his fancy pants team so he can boss you around and help you control your powers and babysit-"

"SPECTRE!" The man shouted. Nick kept a straight face, judging from the annoyed expression on Mr. Furious' face, this wasn't the first time when Spectre spoke to much.

"Apreciate the honesty," He said coldly. "But I work alone."

"Yeah, but whatever you do, you still end up with these weirdos," Spectre warned. "I mean, they sent Frank Zhang, Violet Baudelaire, and Maise Lockwood after me, and then I got stuffed in a bag. Flo lady was lucky, as were the other agent guys."

Mr. Furious seemed to be living up to his name, glaring at the pavement venomously. "Mr. Spring-"

"Oh no! I insist you call me Walker Scobell on missions!" The boy said cheerily. Nick blinked again. Raising her eyebrow, and looking away. 

"I work alone." He repeated. His eyes tracing back to Furious. 

"Fury, Nick Fury." The man introduced. Nick nodded.

"Outstrech your hand." Fury raised a eyebrow, his eye narrowing at Nick. "I won't join your team unless I take a reading of you and your..." He looked down at the pavement. "Child."

"I'm not his!" The kid warned, and color suddenly started spreading in front of Nick, a kid grinned at him devilishly, he seemed vaugley familiar, then again, most people did. "And I'm not gonna hold your hand! I'm straight!" 

Fury outstreched it, determined to prove he was trustworthy. Nick eyed him carefully before taking it.

GRACE
Flash news: I like writing long chapters. Other flash news: Next update is Friday. 
Ideas? This chapter wasn't really that exciting, can't wait to start with part two, in which they actually don't ambush recuits in alleys and ramble about Stephen King. I mean...I'll have to make the next chapter much more interesting.
There's only a few more chapters in part one. So bear with me.