CHAPTER ONE — THE SHADOW THAT LIMPS.

               She was there, stuck in a hole, an enclosed space that seemed to inch closer to her with each shaky breath. The dirt that was within the crevices of her fingernails, her skin glistened with coats of sweat, and the stench of the cell burned her nostrils. Needless to say she was a mess, entirely. But Blair had worse, the hole they placed her in was just a dark cold room — nothing more, nothing less. Four stone walls surrounded her, a metal bed with a mattress that seemed thinner than a piece of paper, with the raspiest blanket on Earth — which felt like thorns that picked at her skin when it came mere centimeters to her skin. No windows, but a large metal door.

               Blair Whispex was a threat and a threat that was locked up. Time was endless within these walls, the lack of a clock, the lack of a routine — were things she couldn't monitor. Couldn't figure out the time, her mind was scrambled. It was a new feeling, something foreign in her consciousness. Maybe it was the reason behind her current situation. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D locked her up because she was no longer in her right mind. But the guards didn't keep a routine with the means of confusing her — of ruining her. It was driving her crazy, she began talking to herself.

               She was overthinking again, she noticed. A continuous and never-ending action that she wanted to rid herself of. Alone to her thoughts wasn't something she wanted. Her mind was tainted, demons lurked in the shadows with devilish grins, negativity filled her as a whole — it would end her eventually. But for now it would haunt her, rip her apart piece by piece, put her together, and then begin all over again. A horrendous process that would even ruin the Devil themself. Being stuck in a room with the worst part of yourself, with the memories you wished — hoped, begged — would leave your mind forever. But instead it tainted her and ruined every moment she had.

               And then she heard it, believing it to be her mind once again playing tricks on her as it had been. It began with her believing the shadows moved, inching towards her in a threatening way. And maybe it was true, they whispered to her, ripped at her mind with poisonous words. But it was being in the dark, alone, in the cold room that was turning her this way — creating insanity. Again, she was losing it.

               — Focus on the threat.

               The heavy metal door unlocked itself, slammed open, the hallway lights flooding the room rapidly. It stung her eyes, like a fiery red, and although it was not sunlight that graced her, the light still warmed her skin. There was a sudden crave for the warmth, she felt the urge to reach for it but decided otherwise — it would be a sign of weakness. She stayed still, sat in the center of the room with her legs crossed one beneath the other, back straight with her hands held within the other, and head bowed. Two pairs of footsteps approached her, calm and steady, and stopped a foot before her. But Blair paid no mind — nobody was important to her, not anymore.

               She felt the burn of their stares, begging for attention. A slight uneasiness filled the air, she could practically feel as one of them shifted their weight slightly onto a foot. From what she heard, one could be male and the other female. "Blair Whispex, my name is Agent Phil Coulson, with S.H.I.E.L.D." All he heard was her sigh, a silent whisper that almost went unheard — but the room was extremely silent, too silent, for that to be true.

               For the first time, Phil Coulson felt uneasy — worried and deeply saddened. He struggled to see the condition the poor girl was in; dirty, sweaty, almost unalive. But the way her chest moved slightly assured him she was alive — as much as she could be in her current living conditions. He never had the opportunity to see her again, not after his death. He had been gone for months and the thought of her well being never came to mind — but what did he think about while he was gone? Blair Whispex was known in more than one way all among S.H.I.E.L.D., a ghost story throughout the globe. And now she was broken down to a hunched being, who hadn't seen the light in months, closed off from the world for their own protection.

               He felt sick to his stomach.

               "Blair?" He was sure she wasn't deaf, but unbothered by the sudden interest in new S.H.I.E.L.D agents. He turned to the side to make eye contact with Agent Hill in asking, will she talk? But she didn't have the answers, barely knew exactly the point of coming to her cell. But the fact also being, the girl was angry — furious even — and who knew what exactly she had gone through while being locked up like a wild animal.

               "Yes," her voice was chillingly raspy, the cause of her disobeying the guards and not receiving water for days because of it. In her mind there was nothing else to say, they weren't important, not anymore — but they sure acted like it. Entered her cell, called her by her first name, acted as if nothing were wrong — as if they didn't know what was wrong — they stood before her with an energy of wanting. "You want something, do you not?"

               — Maybe they're here to do what you haven't succeeded in, getting rid of yourself.

               "Whispex," she finally lifted her head to look up at the female, "Director Fury —"

               A scoff interrupted her, Maria Hill rolled her eyes. It was no news to her, the distaste towards the one eyed man. Everyone had an issue with him, but she knew which was Blair's. He locked her in this cell — to rot perhaps. But in his defense, the girl caused these actions all on her own. Opportunities were given, handed easily her way, but it was up to her what she did with them. But that wasn't the reason she was angry, burning from the mere thought of him. "Director Fury could go rot in hell."

               — Ah so you'll be meeting each other there.

               "Blair," Coulson spoke before things can even begin, "I'm here with an offer."

                Her head lifted, slowly, and then turned with eyes narrowed. Realization dawned upon her, this was surely a dead man. He smiled at her knowingly — yes I'm alive. The darkness that stained her mind faltered, memories of Agent Phil Coulson weighed onto her as she traced every feature of him with her eyes. It seemed like it wasn't long ago that she saw the same face pale as he caught his last breath. A God of mischief, she remembered, shoving an alien scepter through his heart. Torn to pieces, ending up dead. What haunted her the most — she was too late to save him. But before her stood the man with his heart torn to pieces, the one who no longer was breathing when she ran to his side, the one stained crimson as the false God escaped to cause terror — there he was.

               "Agent Hill," there was a joking tone to her raspy voice, "you can add ghost whisperer to my file too, seems to be a dead man seeking my help."

               There she was, the girl that Coulson was assigned to evaluate, to train. He squatted before her, a smile in full display. "Well, this ghost wants to recruit you." He was close enough to see her face as clear as he could with such little light — her skin paler than usual, scars littered her exposed skin, face tired, eyes dull, and a scar running from above her left eyebrow to the tip of her left cheek. A scar he had never seen before.

               "Recruit me?"

               "I'm putting a team together for a new threat, kinda like the Avengers," he joked, a slight huffed laugh with the word. "And you're on my list of who I want."

               — A monster on a team of heroes? How long do you think you could last? Surely only long enough to prove him wrong.

               Hill interrupted, a snark in her already sharp tone of voice, "Something that was strongly advised against." Blair glared at the woman, but Hill — like almost all agents — was not one to show fear, or any emotion. But neither did she. Lost her emotions long ago, her will for life long ago disposed — in fact she wanted to die. Wished life wasn't so generous to keep her alive and gift her with constant attacks from each corner.

               — The moment she met you, she could basically read the monster that tainted every inch of your humanity. But imagine her trembling at your hand.

               "And yet the offer is on the table, no?" A smug look, a stab at Hill that worked because her hands were now clenched into fists. But it only humored her for a mere second, because there were more pressing matters at hand — a new threat? Her head turned to look back at Coulson, but he only gestured for her to stand, he was tired of squatting.

               "An opportunity," he began, they walked out the cell — he already knew her answer — and down the lit hall. She grinned wickedly at the guards who glowered to see their torture toy walk away and out to freedom. "To redeem yourself, your actions. Prove to us that you are good, not that I don't believe in you, but you do have people to prove wrong."

               — Prove them wrong, when they are entirely right?

               They were now outside standing before the cliche all black vehicles with the S.H.I.E.L.D emblem painted proudly on the doors. Thankfully the prison was underground and the sun did not blind her. "But you decide, you get in the car, you get access to daily showers, food, a comfortable bed, freedom. You don't, you go back to your very home-y cell."

               Blair feigned the long, paused thought, but she already knew her answer. Easy as one, two, three.

                She opened the car door with ease and climbed in, "Disappointed you had to ask."

               — Let's see how long you last, because the monster in you won't stay hidden long.