It was late in the day when I finally started to find signs of life. I was quick to scale the buildings floors, finally hitting the main kitchen and living area at around 2, and again almost puking at the sight. How many people lived here in order to make such a mess?
Clothes were strewn everywhere, dishes were piled as high as the eye could see, empty bottles of alcohol lay about, and all in all it was just disastrous. Sighing at this too, as I seemed to be doing on every floor, I set to work.
I threw all the clothes into a basket that I had brought along with me, and lined the shoes up by the elevator with a sticky note posted above to inform whoever was living here that they had to clean up their shoes themselves. Next was the countless bottles that I had to use two trash-bags to get rid of, and then I almost cried at the rug.
Yeah sure there were stains. Food stains, dirt, and what looked a lot like grape kool-aid, but what made me want to yell was the blood stains. I had been living under a rock for the past year, but not far enough that I hadn't heard about the destruction of Stark towers during the alien attack a few months ago. I had just assumed that Mr. Stark would have had someone in here to clean since then. I guess I was the first.
I sighed, thoroughly remembering the incident with my good friend Wade and his Tide stain sticks. What had he said? Lemon for blood? Or just wear red. Staring at the carpet, I wished Mr. Stark liked red more then he liked white.
"JARVIS?"
"Yes, Wes?"
I looked upwards, almost as if I would be able to see the automated voice. "Do we have any lemon juice?"
"I'm afraid not. Would you like me to order some?"
Biting my lip, I pondered. Would Mr. Stark be more angry at me for ordering lemon juice to clean his carpets, or more angry at me if I didn't clean them? "Sure, Jarvis. Order me a gallon of lemon juice. From the way this place looks, I'm gonna need it."
"Very well, Wes."
I smiled at the automatic voice, knowing that I might just find a friend in the British AI. "JARVIS, can you search youtube for Julianne Quill's playlists, Volumes 1 and 2?"
When Hooked on A Feeling started playing, I almost screamed in joy. I needed a little bit of Julianne with me on my first day.
Turning to tackle the kitchen, I was quick to fall into my habit of singing along with the playlists of Julianne's tapes. "When you hold me, in your arms so tight you let me know everything's alright.." I grabbed a spoon out of the sink, turning and sliding along the floor in my socks, having left my shoes back in the laundry room. "I'M~ HOOKED ON A FEELING!"
Spinning back to the sink, I started the warm water, grabbed the dish detergent, and started scrubbing. It was quick work, the only issue coming in finding where everything went, but JARVIS helped me along for that part.
When I finally finished the stack, I had gone through all of Volume 1, and halfway through Volume 2. I sighed again, taking a mental note of how often I had sighed today. This job was more exasperating then anything else. Who knew how many people lived in this tower, but they sure as hell knew how to make a mess.
"Wow, I didn't think that sink had a bottom anymore."
I screamed, spinning around and decking the person behind me in the face, reaching to my left to grab the frying pan I had been about to put away, raising it over my head. The man from the gym was laying on the floor behind me, his hand over his eye.
"Oh god." I shrieked, rushing to the freezer to grab one of the ice packs I had seen in there, and rushing back to gently apply it to his swelling right eye. "I am so sorry I swear I didn't mean it."
"Hey, hey kid, it's all good." He shooed me off, gripping the ice pack himself. "You got one hell of a left hook. I should've known better then to spook ya like that."
I covered my mouth with my hands, taking a few steps back and feeling my eyes tear up. I had promised myself I would never let anything like this happen again, and here I was, standing over someone who was hurting because of me. I could feel the anger tugging at the back of my mind, willing me to return to the awful place I had worked so hard to rid myself of, but I shoved it back as far as I could. "I'm so sorry."
"It's cool, kid."
I started wringing my hands as he stood up, the peak in his blonde hair flopping over slightly. "I swear I just got scared, I didn't mean it."
He chuckled, "you don't need to apologize, I've gotten worse." He shifted the ice pack on his eye, and then looked at me for a few seconds. "You're the girl from the gym, right? The one who broke the punching bag?"
I smirked at this, crossing my arms across my chest. "Nice to see you haven't forgotten me, лучник."
He stared at me again, thinking. "How did you-"
"Know you were an archer?" I giggled. "Simple. When you stood in the door of the gym you had your left foot forward and your right shoulder back. Only archers stand like that, it's their natural shooting stance. Your right hand was also bent, another aspect of the normal shooting position."
The archer just shook his head at me, slowly. "You're weird, kid. I like you." His free hand shot out towards me, "name's Clint Barton."
I shook his hand firmly. "Wesley Powers. I'm-"
"Stark's new 'cleaning lady', I know. Be prepared to be asked to do other things, he tends to forget about life in general. You're gonna be his backup."
I shrugged, having a feeling it would have happened eventually. Letting go of his hand, I stepped back towards the sink, putting away the frying pan and reaching for the last few dishes. "Anything you need here, Mr. Barton?"
He chuckled behind me, and he reminded me a bit of a dad. "Call me Clint, Wesley."
"Then call me Wes, Clint."
"Done deal, kid."
~~~~~~~~~~~<<<<~~~~~~~~~
"Wes, I'm pleased to inform you that your shift is officially over. You are free to return home."
I smiled up at the ceiling. "Why thank you, JARV."
"Certainly, Wes."
Stretching, I quickly returned the bucket to the cleaning supply closet and scampered to the elevator, heavy soled boots in hand. I felt the overwhelming sense of joy as I clicked the button for the first floor. The lurch, of course, caught my stomach again, and I rode the rest of the way down with the uncomfortable feeling of being on a rollercoaster.
When the doors opened, with my head buried in the book I had found in my backpack, I fell flat on my ass as I ran into a wall. But, looking up, I was quick to realize it was anything but a wall.
"Oh, I'm so sorry ma'am. Here, let me help you up."
Steve Rogers stood over me, all 6'4" of him, with his enormous hand stretched out towards me.
With a gulp, I grasped his hand and let him pull me upwards. "T-thanks Captain."
He chuckled, "just call me Steve."
People sure seemed to be in a giggly mood today. "Well, thanks Steve."
"Not a problem..." he paused, looking at me, and it took me a second to realize he was waiting for my name.
"Wesley!" I stuttered out quickly. "Wesley Powers. I'm Mr. Stark' new cleaning lady."
"Cleaning lady?" He looked a little taken aback. "Well, with all these fellas living here that's gonna be a tough job."
I smiled, stepping off the elevator to stand and talk to him. "Sure is, but it's something to do with my hands." My eyes quickly flicked downwards, catching sight of his shiny, light brown oxfords. "I'm lovin' your stompers. They're pretty swanky, them."
He seemed a little thrown off kilter at my use of words, but quickly got his feet back under him again. "Sure are. Got them on sale too."
I smiled at him, before noticing how dark it had already gotten outside. Sucking in a breath of air, I panicked a little inside. "Well, sorry to say this so soon, but I gotta scram. Nice meeting you though, Steve! I'm sure I'll see you around."
Again, he looked a little taken aback. "S-sure, Wes. When do you work?"
I turned, heading towards the door, but looked over my shoulder to talk to him, "every day from now till I get fired."
He smiled at that. "Great, I'll be seeing you soon then."
"Bye Steve!" I waved to him before slipping into the rotating doors, stepping out into the frigid cold. I shivered, realizing how quickly autumn had actually set in.
I pulled the thin jacket I had tighter around me, considering wether I should go home, or go to Julianne's apartment. Sighing, I knew I had to go home at some point, as much as I liked avoiding it.
And so the trudge to the outskirts of town started, the whole hour of walking and all its fun. I kept my hands empty, my knife hidden up the sleeve of my jacket, and my eyes wide and peeled. While Julianne lived three blocks away from me, the area we lived in was brutal. If you walked down almost any alley in our small corner of New York, you were sure to find a dead body.
When I finally did reach my home, though, I shuddered at all the bad memories it held. Clenching my fists and taking a deep breath, I spun the ancient handle on the door and stepped inside.
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