*。☆。
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˚ ₊ ♡ ❰  HAVEN ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ BASKIN & ROBINS! ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT ONE ── queen of cons 💻 ⁺⑅

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THE LEGENDS SERIES ⋆ 🐜.
♯ ❝ YOU'RE NOT A SERIAL KILLER RIGHT ❞
CHAPTER ONE ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ 2015 ─── ant-man
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NORA HATED THE SMELL OF VANILLA, AND MUCH TO HER CHAGRIN, BASKIN AND ROBINS SMELLED LIKE A BOMB OF THE OVERLY SWEET SCENT HAD EXPLODED RIGHT IN her face that morning as she stood behind the counter of the quaint ice cream store. Her blonde hair had been tied back in a tight ponytail and her glasses were already falling down the bridge of her nose for the sixth time that day.

And it was just only twelve am.

She hated Micky for convincing her to take a daytime job that involved less illegal activities.

It was the most boring thing Nora ever did in her life, and she had been on her former high school's decathlon team. Bless her high IQ.

"Can I try the peanut butter swirl?"

Nora's eyes flicker up from where she was staring at her phone to look at a young curly haired boy standing before her with what looked like his grandparents standing behind him.

Plastering her best I-am-a-happy-person smile on her face, Nora dropped her phone in her back pocket before taking one of the plastic and green coloured sample spoons before scooping a small bit of the brown ice cream.

"Here you go little man." She held the spoon out for the boy as he eagerly took it from her outstretched hand.

"Would you like to try our Mango Fruit Blast?" The blonde then focused on the two elderly people behind the kid, muttering the phrase her boss—Dale, demanded she speak to every costumer walking through the door.

"No thank you dear." The elderly man spoke kindly, eyes crinkling as he looked at her. "We'd both like plain vanilla please."

"Coming right up."

Freaking vanilla.

Within a couple seconds, she prepared both cups before regarding the little boy once more. "You liked the peanut butter?"

He nodded enthusiastically, and his grandfather took it upon himself to order the boy his own cup.

At least the kid had better taste.

"Have a nice day." Nora smiled at them as the trio left after paying for their ice cream. The moment they disappeared, and the annoying little bell above the door ringed she let her smile drop once more.

She sighed, rubbing her face with her left hand while mindlessly tapping her fingers on the glass counter when suddenly the bell rang once more, making her lift her eyes up again.

A middle aged man, with short brown hair and a goofy smile stood before her, wringing his hands together as if he is nervous. She don't know what a Baskin and Robins store could make him nervous for, but she felt obliged to actually give him a semi-sincere smile. "Welcome to Baskin and Robins." She monotonously greeting the man.

"Erh—Hi..hey." He approached the counter, "I saw you were looking for more personnel?" He spoke, his tone a bit more confidant than his demeanour. 

She hummed, nodding but not immediately reply, which didn't seem to help the man to ease his nerves. "Right,--" She pointed at a backdoor in the corner of the store. "Dale—the boss, he's back there. Feel free to walk in."

"Uh...right thanks, " His eyes flickered to her name tag. "Barbara?"

She grinned. "Not my name."

The man paused, looking back at the name tag once more to check, only to still see Barbara in thick black letters written on it.

"But—"

"I don't like strangers using my name."

"Right."

Nora could only chuckle softly as the man disappeared throughout the backdoor, already hearing Dale obnoxious voice echoing as he spoke to the man.

Her fingers found her phone once more, as she looked back at the door once more—the man he had looked very familiar and a small smirk creeped on her face when she realised who had walked inside the store.

Scott Lang, the very man that brought Vistacorps schemes to light.

She had to give it to him, it wasn't an easy corporation to hack into, or maybe they had reinforced their digital security after the former employee had hacked them and uncovered their secrets.

She still gotten in though, but sadly there weren't more secrets to reveal.

Her head flew up when the door opened again, and Scott came back out, holding the pink Baskin and Robin's employee shirt in his hands.

"Not bad what you did with Vistacorps Mr. Lang." She spoke up, immediately catching his attention as his head snapped towards her. She grinned slyly at the man as he gaped at her nervously. He had lied to Dale about having no criminal record—but this woman, she knew and could easily tattle to her boss.

Seeing the shock on his face, she casually scrolled through her phone, where she had pulled up the documents of his time at San Quentin State Prison—documents she might have illegally gotten. "Yikes, four days in solitary, what did you do Scotty boy?"

"What, how..." He rushed up to her, snatching her phone out of her hand to see his face displayed on the screen.

"You're not the only one with an affinity for the art of digital sleight of hand." She grinned, "Don't worry, I won't tell Dale if that's what worries you. I'm not a snitch. I can however say, with a degree like yours, Baskin and Robins isn't really your scene."

Scott blinked, reluctantly giving the woman her phone back. "Thanks I guess. As for the Baskin job, no one wants to hire a criminal."

"Who knows, maybe there is hope for us yet."

"You're a criminal?" He whispered with wide eyes.

Nora chuckled at his almost child-like antics, "Can't be called a criminal if you ain't got caught."

"You're not a serial killer right...?"

Nora shrugged, a small grin on her face as looked at him.

The man seemed slightly unnerved at her indifferent demeanour. "No nothing serious like that. " She laughed.

A man—Hispanic by the looks of it, shouted and, Scott turned around to face the man, before sheepishly smiling at the blonde.

"Seems that's your cue to leave."

"I guess I'll see you around Scott."

"Right... nameless serial killer."

"Not a serial killer!" She shouted after the man.

⋆⋅ ━━━━ ‧ ༻✩༺ ‧ ━━━━ ⋅⋆

NORA FOUND HERSELF SITTING BEHIND HER LAPTOP ONCE MORE LATER THAT EVENING, A COLD PLATE OF PANCAKES, CURTESY OF MICKY, LEFT FORGOTTEN BESIDE HER, her eyes bouncing around the screen as she dug deeper in the database of another corporation. She didn't quite know what she was looking for, but Micky had been the one to tip her off. Which never happened, but the curly haired man had been adamant about it, telling her no more than an old friend asking for her expertise.

    Darrren Cross seemed like a very shady person.

But how it came to be on Micky's radar, that remained a large mystery to the blonde woman. And while Micky could be very secretive—not even disclosing most of his past to her even now after thirteen years of friendship, the way he nervously utter the question and asked her to look some stuff up was even more mysterious than the normal amount.

Of course Nora said yes, the call of secrets ever so alluring, but it was mostly because it was Micky who asked her. He had been the only constant in her life, and her little piece of sunshine.

They had been together for longer than her own family had stayed together—which sounded actually quite pathetic. But they had moved to the outskirts of New York after Collage before moving to New York later in life. And after the incident of 2012, the duo decided to pack their bags once more and move to San Francisco.

And now three years later, they seemed to have finally found their home—even if it was in a crappy apartment with a witch for a landlord.

They would always be there for one another, to support them or knock some sense in the other. Micky liked to call them platonic soulmates.

And he wasn't wrong.

Letting her eyes flicker back to the screen where more information popped up about Cross Technologies—formerly known as Pym technologies. That whole thing had been a bit of a shit show not too long ago, with Hank Pym's protégé overthrowing his own mentor.

With a few careful clicks, and a couple of minutes later she had created a backdoor in the software that had been more easy to get into than she had expected. Cracking her knuckles, Nora let her eyes roam the information popping up on the screen.

Another name popped up on the screen, one that sounded vaguely familiar and she turned her head slightly to her second screen, typing in the name in the hopes of remembering where she knew him from.

"Head of Defense." She mumbled as multiple articles showed up about the organisation S.H.I.E.L.D. "Strange... very strange indeed." She frowned before clicking on a couple more articles but not finding anything interesting upon first glance.

Closing the laptop, letting her own created program sorted through all the information, Nora turned in her chair to face Micky who had fallen asleep on the couch, an ugly Hello Kitty blanket of all things sprawled over his long frame.

It wasn't very often either of them slept soundlessly—or at all, so as quietly as she could she tiptoed around the living room to her own bedroom, deciding for once in her life to be a responsible adult and endorse a good and healthy habit of attempting a good nights sleep.

But as she lay on her own bed, her gaze travelled to a bulletin board in the far corner—another little side project for an old friend, if she could call him that. It was more so a favour after the man had saved her life at the Battle of New York.

She shuddered at the memory of that dreadful day, the aliens, the hanging from a building, the falling from said building.

She was happy to have left the city in the dust.

James Buchanan Barnes.

A ghost—a dead soldier... well not very dead if Steve Rogers had anything to say about it.

She had been trailing his steps ever since the most famous old man of their world gave her a call in the middle of the night telling her Bucky Barnes was alive, and apparently a soldier for an agency called Hydra.

The trail had run cold long ago—well his digital steps at least, and more she couldn't do for the man even though she wanted to. But that faded old picture of James haunted her every evening, day, night or other moment she stepped inside her room.

Smiling carelessly at her, almost taunting her.

Turning sideways, so she instead face her window, Nora let her eyes flutter shut.

An hour or three would do nicely.

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