Categories > Movies > Marvel Cinematic Universe
Prologue
The smell of sweat and alcohol permeates the air. The bar is crowded and messy. Shots are passed around and taken quickly, more to prove a point than to enjoy. Waitresses in fishnet stockings and mini dresses go around, hitting on men for money. Were it up to Adhara, she wouldn’t be here. But a job was a job and that was what mattered the most. She dodges men on the way to the counter, avoiding groping hands and sweaty palms. Annoyance comes off of her in waves. Lifting her hand, she signals the bartender to serve her.
Sparkling water. Giving a small sigh, Adhara downs it and waits, patient yet wishing to be anywhere but here. As she waits, she watches, interested in the going-ons. A man on the stool next to her keeps ordering whiskey and seems to be drowning his sorrows. There’s a waitress who keeps tugging down the edges of her dress, clearly wishing for more covering clothes. A different waitress purposely positions the dress so her cleavage is shown.
Rolling her eyes at a man trying to catch her attention, she glances around and spots her quarry. Sitting in the back, studying her, is a dark looking man. His skin resembles coffee while his hair is like the night. A snarl seems implanted on his lips and his eyes are a dark black, staring out at her. Sending a cheeky smile to the bartender, she takes her drink and makes her way over to him.
He stays silent as she takes her seat; silent as she sips from her glass. She let his silence surround her, happy to find a quiet corner to rest. Sitting back and waiting, she continued her study of the bar. Several women were staring at her, furious. Jealousy was not a look most of them wore well, she decided.
“You are Nightmare, then,” the man finally says, yanking her out of her study.
“Yes,” she answers, her eyes daring him to oppose her.
“You’ll find no dreams here,” he replies with a smirk.
“I find dreams everywhere,” she challenges. Leaning in close and crossing her arms, she confronted him. “What do you want?”
“To help you,” he says matter of factly.
She scoffs. “No help comes free.”
“Of course not. I never said you wouldn’t pay,” he rebuffs. “Only that I wanted to help.”
Cornered and outwitted, she folds. “Help me with what?”
He stays silent for a moment, as if looking over what he wanted to say. She takes this time to open her senses and investigate his nightmares. Failure. His father. Anger. Scenes flash into her head and stand there, replaying over and over and she fights the urge to laugh. For all of his importance in the world, he was afraid of relationships. Pitiful, she thinks, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
“You are looking for a cure, yes?” he asks eventually.
“Correct,” she answers, sitting up straighter. She needed a cure, not for her, but for her daughter. Adhara was the light of her life and yet was cursed with her strangeness.
“I know of one. All I ask in return is your eldest daughter.”
She nearly laughs out loud. “You want Addie?”
“She is the one affected, yes?”
“Forget it,” she says, rolling her eyes. But as she stood, a hand folded itself around her arm.
“Think about it,” he says, passing her a card. She scoffs and makes her way out of the bar, only stopping to drop a bill on the counter.
She thinks about it, all right. She couldn’t get it out of her mind as she watched her girls play, each laughing and passing each other a rubber ball. Addie and Kara were her jewels but… Well, Addie wasn’t normal. She didn’t have the nightmare gift like Kara and herself. It was something else entirely. Heaving a sigh, she glanced at the picture on the wall.
Her husband and the girl’s father. Deceased as of three years ago. Putting a finger on the face, she made her decision, even as it broke her heart.
She gave Addie away the next day, telling Kara that her sister had died. Though it hurt, she tried to tell herself she was doing this for her daughter. Still, she would spend days looking at the picture of her husband and wondering what he would think of her decision.
The man assured her that Addie was perfectly fine and sent her pictures every month. Her daughter was growing up so well. It only pained her to think that she didn’t get to see her take her first step or throw her first knife. Still, life went on in the Night household while Adhara grew up in the Kade one.
The smell of sweat and alcohol permeates the air. The bar is crowded and messy. Shots are passed around and taken quickly, more to prove a point than to enjoy. Waitresses in fishnet stockings and mini dresses go around, hitting on men for money. Were it up to Adhara, she wouldn’t be here. But a job was a job and that was what mattered the most. She dodges men on the way to the counter, avoiding groping hands and sweaty palms. Annoyance comes off of her in waves. Lifting her hand, she signals the bartender to serve her.
Sparkling water. Giving a small sigh, Adhara downs it and waits, patient yet wishing to be anywhere but here. As she waits, she watches, interested in the going-ons. A man on the stool next to her keeps ordering whiskey and seems to be drowning his sorrows. There’s a waitress who keeps tugging down the edges of her dress, clearly wishing for more covering clothes. A different waitress purposely positions the dress so her cleavage is shown.
Rolling her eyes at a man trying to catch her attention, she glances around and spots her quarry. Sitting in the back, studying her, is a dark looking man. His skin resembles coffee while his hair is like the night. A snarl seems implanted on his lips and his eyes are a dark black, staring out at her. Sending a cheeky smile to the bartender, she takes her drink and makes her way over to him.
He stays silent as she takes her seat; silent as she sips from her glass. She let his silence surround her, happy to find a quiet corner to rest. Sitting back and waiting, she continued her study of the bar. Several women were staring at her, furious. Jealousy was not a look most of them wore well, she decided.
“You are Nightmare, then,” the man finally says, yanking her out of her study.
“Yes,” she answers, her eyes daring him to oppose her.
“You’ll find no dreams here,” he replies with a smirk.
“I find dreams everywhere,” she challenges. Leaning in close and crossing her arms, she confronted him. “What do you want?”
“To help you,” he says matter of factly.
She scoffs. “No help comes free.”
“Of course not. I never said you wouldn’t pay,” he rebuffs. “Only that I wanted to help.”
Cornered and outwitted, she folds. “Help me with what?”
He stays silent for a moment, as if looking over what he wanted to say. She takes this time to open her senses and investigate his nightmares. Failure. His father. Anger. Scenes flash into her head and stand there, replaying over and over and she fights the urge to laugh. For all of his importance in the world, he was afraid of relationships. Pitiful, she thinks, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
“You are looking for a cure, yes?” he asks eventually.
“Correct,” she answers, sitting up straighter. She needed a cure, not for her, but for her daughter. Adhara was the light of her life and yet was cursed with her strangeness.
“I know of one. All I ask in return is your eldest daughter.”
She nearly laughs out loud. “You want Addie?”
“She is the one affected, yes?”
“Forget it,” she says, rolling her eyes. But as she stood, a hand folded itself around her arm.
“Think about it,” he says, passing her a card. She scoffs and makes her way out of the bar, only stopping to drop a bill on the counter.
She thinks about it, all right. She couldn’t get it out of her mind as she watched her girls play, each laughing and passing each other a rubber ball. Addie and Kara were her jewels but… Well, Addie wasn’t normal. She didn’t have the nightmare gift like Kara and herself. It was something else entirely. Heaving a sigh, she glanced at the picture on the wall.
Her husband and the girl’s father. Deceased as of three years ago. Putting a finger on the face, she made her decision, even as it broke her heart.
She gave Addie away the next day, telling Kara that her sister had died. Though it hurt, she tried to tell herself she was doing this for her daughter. Still, she would spend days looking at the picture of her husband and wondering what he would think of her decision.
The man assured her that Addie was perfectly fine and sent her pictures every month. Her daughter was growing up so well. It only pained her to think that she didn’t get to see her take her first step or throw her first knife. Still, life went on in the Night household while Adhara grew up in the Kade one.
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