Free Write #3

The detective saw his opportunity. He grabbed the waitress’s arm and said, "Ma'am I am part of FBI, I need you to walk to the kitchen put your platter down and meet me in the upstairs floor of the building. Right on top of the stairs." The waitress flinched as the man grabbed her arm. The man was very handsome, but had a very intimidating look. The man had jet black hair, it was short and swooped to his left side. His shoulders were very broad, and under his tux you could tell he was undoubtedly muscular. Due to fear she followed the man’s orders, and put her platter down and headed upstairs. In her mind she was asking herself a million questions. She slowly walked to where the stairs started.  She grabbed onto the railing of the stairs and started to climb. The stairs were made of old wood, and they had a glassy coat over them. They spiraled up to the top floor of the old fashioned building. The railing was made of the same wood, but the columns were shaped in a 'S' curve holding up the rail. The waitress slowly stepped up the creaking steps one by one. Every step her mind brought another vile thought. As she came up to the last 12 steps she started seeing red spots on the stairs. She looked up the steps to the top and the red spots grew bigger and bigger. She knew it was blood. Frozen she stared at the blood. After what seemed like hours of staring at the blood, the waitress’ curiosity got the most of her. She slowly and cautiously walked up the rest of the stairs. The waitress had never been upstairs before, but she knew it was the restaurant owner’s house. The owner was rich, and she had always had suspicions about him. He had bodyguards with him almost constantly except when in his home. He also carried a large, pitch-black brief case, and came home with different women almost every time she saw him. When she reached the top of the stairs she heard a loud bang in the room closest to her. She peered into the room where she saw the so-called FBI agent fighting to other men. The two men were dressed in all black suits and they were not handsome like the man she met. They two looked like secret agents. The man who grabbed her threw at a punch at one of the other men and barley missed. The other man ran up behind the man she knew and kicked him in the back. He stumbled into another section in that room that looked like a kitchen. The two men followed him and threw a drawer on his head. The FBI agent stumbled again, but got up and grabbed the blender. He threw a punch with the blender in his hand at one of the men. The man was knocked right out, but the other advanced onto the FBI agent. The handsome man ran back into the living room section, and they two men started battling it out. They were throwing punched and kicks at each other. The man who seemed to be the bad one knocked down the FBI agent and started to punch him directly in the head with momentums of force. Without thinking the waitress ran into the room. The two men were facing away from her, so she crept up and punched the man right in the neck. It did not knock him out, but it sure did surprise him and he fell to the ground. The FBI agent looked up in astonishment, and quickly got up. He ran up to the other man, and knocked him out as he was trying to get up. The FBI agent and the waitress stared at each other for a moment, then the FBI agent walked up to the stone fireplace and he felt around it looking for something. He found what he was looking for, and pushed a button. The fireplace shot up revealing a secret compartment with a shiny, silver metal briefcase. The man grabbed it, closed the fireplace, and walked up to the waitress; he grabbed her arm and dragged her to another room. She stared at the man in confusion, and admiration. He stared at her in astonishment. The girl then said, “Who are you? What was going on in there, and why did you ask me to come up here?” The man looked to the ground and replied, “There is no time for details, but I’m not apart of the FBI, I work for S.H.I.E.L.D and I need you to come with me.” The man waited a second and then said, “My name is Ward, Agent Grant Ward.” The waitress again stared at the man, and for some reason she completely trusted him. She said, “I’m Adaline, Adaline Johnson.” The man looked straight into Adaline’s eyes and said, “I know”.