Silly Tales of the Super Girl (MCU Supergirl SI)

Notes: I wanted to try at doing a SI without ever showing the SI's POV.

Even though he was in a machine, Tony felt out of breath. It really was a pity that he couldn't enjoy the whiskey he poured out for himself. If only Loki had the class to take the offer to drink. But then, as Tony thought about it, the alien god had no class. Oh, he dressed nice in his tux and in his gaudy golden armor, he spoke with some level of charisma, and he came with his bells and whistles... the supposedly-Norse deity could present himself.

But he didn't have class.

Tony thought he knew Loki's type pretty well. They felt like they had a set path in life and they thought the world would follow their plans—the paths that they laid out for the world. But the world didn't work that way, and no one, not even Tony though he'd never admit it, could plan for everything. It was the opposite of having a hammer and seeing every problem as a nail... but that was it, wasn't it?

Thor was the one with the hammer, so Loki thought he could be the smart one. But Tony? Tony knew, that there was no scenario, no outcome, of this skirmish in the heart of New York that could end up with Loki winning.

No, Loki had bells and whistles, and his presentation—the invasion force that was now rampaging across the city—looked impressive. Tony couldn't deny an alien army of giant monstrosities and soldiers on flying bikes straight out of 1980's Flash Gordon didn't look awesome. Well, he might have even said so, if it didn't look like his Stark Tower was about to topple over from Thor and Loki giving it the kind of attention like it was a cheating woman in the middle of Saudi Arabia.

Come to think of it, Tony paused and frowned, taking the moment to catch his breath... calling it Stark Tower was awfully selfish, even for him. He had Rhodey, he had Pepper, and now he had a team. It could be nice to have a hang out for everyone that wasn't a stuffy helicarrier.

As cool as the feat of modern engineering was, the lab Fury gave them was lacking in... toys. And they had no alcohol on the ship. What was up with that?

Tony Stark drifted down towards the rest of the Avengers. Calling themselves that was going to take some taking used to, but Tony was adaptive. He briefly peered up at Loki, who had jumped off of his... hm, rather phallic-looking tower now that he looked up at it from a regular ground level point of view. The Norse deity was strapped onto the back of one of those silly 80's looking flying bikes—not even piloting himself, letting one of his minions drive for him—and clutching the nameless, faceless alien's waist like he was doing the clay scene from Ghost. “... Yeah, no class.”

“Sir?” Jarvis' voice blared into his ears. His adrenaline must have been pumping on overdrive, because his artificial intelligence's voice sounded louder than normal. “Sir?”

“Yeah, Jarvis?” His body twisted, dodging an array of some kind of blue, glowing bolts of alien munitions. Or rather, the suit helped him twist; it guided his body's motion, piloting as the Iron Man was more... emotionally draining than physically draining. The weaponry shown here wasn't all that impressive in the Michael Bay scale of things, but Tony had little doubts that a couple of impacts could pierce right through his armor. He made yet another mental note to tinker out some more specialized, situational powered armors after this was all over—the eleventh time he'd made that note in the past five minutes.

“A civilian seems to be approaching the perimeter, but... she is dodging everything,” Jarvis sounded almost unsure.

That made Tony feel unsure. “Everything everything? Like, Cap's attempts at keeping the fighting here or all the aliens?”

“... Yes, sir.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Alright, Hulk, buddy, you got this?”

The jolly green giant roared in response. And then punched Thor again.

“Hit me with it, Jarvis,” Tony said as he gave Banner a wave, but he realized he didn't need Jarvis to show him the footage.

As he circled back towards the group, Tony saw a girl in baggy, if nondescript clothing running towards exactly where Captain America was. Somehow, every single stray or purposeful shot that veered towards her missed. Some missed by a mile, but some should have at least given her a scratch. And then the girl, just a few feet away from Cap without Cap even noticing, tripped on something and fell face first, skidding towards Cap's feet in a messy mop of blonde hair and a Hello Kitty backpack.

“Eeep!”

If he had been drinking, Tony would have done a spit-take. As he was, he just... stared. The scrawny looking girl was so short and baby-faced she looked like she was just out of middle school, and utterly out of place on the battlefield of the first public alien invasion of earth.

Tony's mind raced; he was running through all the possibilities. She couldn't just be a regular human girl who's too daring to sit around in makeshift shelters and wait out the violence. She had to be... she could be so many different things. He made a mental check list and immediately started to eliminate the impossibilities...

… and then she got up and opened her mouth.

Tony winced.

“Oh-my-god, oh-my-god, you're so... you're... you're you!” She gaped, starry-eyed at the Hulk. “You know, I never really bought into that whole 'Hulk-Widow' stuff, I mean, you made a baby, ah! This is before... but, but, but, oh my god, my friends are going to be so jealous!”

“... Huh?” The Hulk frowned in a huff, probably too confused in his haze of rage to even process her words. Not that her words mattered, she was hugging his leg so excitedly she was practically vibrating... if she kept that up, Tony mused she'd look like a human version of a golden retriever humping Hulk's leg. Oh. That image wasn't going to leave his mind for weeks.

But the kid didn't stop there, she pulled out a notebook and ran up to Tony, who was still blanking out at what the hell was just happening.

Before he knew it, he was signing an autograph with the automatic, practiced ease forged from being an international superstar, billionaire, playboy, genius, philanthropist. Idly, Tony noted that she didn't bother asking anyone else for an autograph, so he nodded and wrote his name, some silly, witty message that would probably get like a million likes on Facebook, because yes, he was just that awesome. And he was tuning her utter fangirlish nonsense out.

“—this is so going in my Ironman X Hulk slash fanfiction. Stark Banner is so hot right now, and you know, yaoi is like the most beautiful love second to—”

Hm. His sanity might survive this intact, Tony noted as he continued to tune the girl out. Barton seemed surprisingly adept and adapted to all this; he was the only one who stood by and actually looked down at his watch, as if waiting for the girl to finish talking, like he had to deal with this in his home life... Tony eyed Natasha suspiciously but she seemed awfully confused by her expression. This didn't make sense, so Tony had to file it away for when he had time to do a little digging.

The middle schooler was still talking as fast as Tony could think, which was almost superhuman, come to think of it... “—so I gotta ask you, Professor Banner, since it's not bigger than my head, can I eat the energy source?”

“What?” Tony's focus snapped back to reality all of a sudden. The adrenaline was back, and Loki's minions had shot enough times at the girl—and continued to keep missing—to give up trying to hit her altogether and returned to firing at Tony again. But that wasn't what caught his attention. It wasn't the girl flying upwards fast enough to cause a sonic boom that caused Tony's eyes to go wide.

The surprise, and surprisingly fear, in his voice was like a beacon to his fellow Avengers. They turned to him instantly, still twitchy as they were on the battlefield, and not at some fan convention... not that they wouldn't be twitchy at a comic con.

“Stark, Stark! Snap out of it.” Captain America was the first one to formulate a coherent thought and voice after the surreal experience of the fangirl's attack. “What's going on?”

Tony looked up. He couldn't help it as trepidation built within and the anxiety that seemed to slip through the cracks of his mind swelled up like a tide. For a moment, he was speechless. But it was just a moment, no one could silence the brilliance that was Tony Stark.

“... Holy shit, that crazy girl's going to eat the tesseract.”

 

Notes: Spur of the moment, so I didn't even bother thinking how this'd work with the plot.

“We won.” Steve was utterly drained and the exhaustion, bruises, and loss of adrenaline had caught up to him, and he felt like he was having one of those out-of-body experiences. He couldn't help but wonder, was this really happening?

“Alright, yay. Hurray. Good job, guys.” Everything was on fire. Tony sounded like how Steve felt. “Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just take a day... You ever tried shawarma?”

Steve's body had be driving itself after the battle. It was like he could hear and understand what everyone was saying, but he couldn't quite process it. He didn't feel like he was in control and yet he shook his head sardonically at the end of the day, perhaps just happy that he survived. More than this, he could only sum up his feelings as it was one thing to be told of an alien invasion and it was an entirely different thing to have to fight one off.

He'd seen the Tesseract afterwards too. There were markings on it as if some small mouth had bitten into it like it was a ripe apple. He counted three bites in total, and the cube was missing its core like a hollowed out peach. And the cube wasn't lighting up, which Steve thought probably had something to do with the bite marks.

No one seemed to be able to make heads or tails of this, even Tony Stark, as talkative and arrogant as he was, was speechless. This was probably because the entire top of Loki's scepter was also missing, left with a similar bite mark... bitten into as if the alien metal of the spear that withstood everything earth had thrown at it was nothing more than microwaved butter. Yes, Steve smiled inwardly to himself despite being puzzled and being at a loss... he knew what a microwave was. It was one of those things that SHIELD had gotten for his apartment, though the manual was so thick that Steve had a hard time believing everyone read those things before using a Microwave.

But, of course everyone read microwave manuals, Steve knew. After all, these were cooking boxes that used electromagnetic radiation—the same stuff from the Bomb.

So his body was on what people these days called “autopilot” as he bit into his pizza. This sort of Italian pie was surprisingly popular in Brooklyn these days, and pretty much all over America. He didn't know how that was, but Steve knew it tasted better than shawarma. Not that it was bad, but it just tasted... too different, too weird for him to swallow.

Did that even make sense?

“Hey, guys, how are you getting home?” Tony was the first one to speak, as always. Sometimes, Steve might have been irritated with the guy, but this wasn't one of those times. The comfortable silence that fell on the team couldn't last forever, and someone had to have said something first. Maybe part of the irritation, envy, and respect—a complex cocktail of emotions—that Steve felt for Tony's dad had sort of rubbed off onto Tony too. Yeah, Steve thought, maybe that was why he didn't have a good first impression of Tony.

“Fury's got us covered,” Barton answered before Natasha could do more than open her mouth. He wasn't even looking up from his food.

“I shall partake in your delightful drink and impose upon your hospitality, Tony Stark,” Thor added after that. He was the only one who seemed even remotely chipper after all this... but then again, a side of Steve's mind reminded him, Thor wasn't human. “Whiskey, was it?”

“We'll have to go somewhere else, the dust isn't really good for me around there. Have you been to California, big guy?” Tony gestured with his food still half-chewed in his mouth. “But yeah, whiskey, scotch, cognac... I have a cellar.”

“I love cellars!” Thor boomed, as if that was the natural response.

Banner watched them before shaking his head. “It doesn't really bother me though. I know, because I already tried... well. I'll... go at my own pace. What about you, Steve, er, Cap?”

“Steve is fine. My friends call me that, or Rogers,” Steve smiled at the doctor. He reminded Steve of the doctor who made him the man he was today, both were gentle at heart. “I can get home on my own. They probably aren't evacuating Brooklyn, right?”

Tony tapped on something in his ear. “... Yeah, not yet. You sure?”

Steve nodded.

His first impression wasn't his current impression of Tony Stark. That had changed after Tony had tried to sacrifice himself... there wouldn't even have been ashes left if he hadn't... if he hadn't fallen at the last minute from pushing the bomb up into the atmosphere, from what little Steve understood of it. And from what he saw of the explosion, he couldn't help but to agree.

But that had left a whole list of other problems...

… the Bomb.

It was... massive. Steve boggled at the idea... when did people need such powerful weapons to fight each other? Weren't they all human in the end?

Was there no sympathy?

The heartless necessity of such a weapon had given his mind an old one-two punch.

It was in this daze that he bit into his shawarma and his pizza. They've evacuated a distance away after all the fighting had ended to get their post-fight snack. Tony had said something about radiation, about how it was bad. Steve frowned and thought, how would the citizens think of this, when they realized their government was so quick to sacrifice an entire city? And did they really save it? Tony seemed to have some concerns that what was left of the bomb could drift down and hurt people, and this was utter outside of his expertise. He didn't even knew how to start... he could only nod with an aftertaste of bitter sweetness, all the smart people were rocket scientists or something like Tony.

So it was this lost, confused, and utterly exhausted Steve Rogers that returned to his apartment in Brooklyn, on the little electric motorcycle that Banner had borrowed from... somewhere. The good doctor had lent it to him because Natasha had talked him letting SHIELD provide him with transportation. How she did that with Banner, Steve would never know.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Steve's brow furrowed as she ascended the stairs to the hallway outside his doorway. There was a soft soft of pounding against the wooden walls of the apartment complex. As he turned the corner—slowly and still slightly twitchy from the battlefield—he saw his good neighbor, that hard working little girl who told him about how microwaves were made from nuclear bombs. She was still wearing her work clothes, a green apron and hat of a Western American company from the land of the faraway wilderness of Seattle called Starbucks, which according to his neighbor, served the best worst tasting expensive boiled bean water that New Yorkers liked so much.

“Oh, it's you, Mister Rogers,” She peeked up from her mess of brown hair she usually kept tied up into a somewhat neat ponytail.

“Are you okay, Kara?” She seemed... injured, Steve noted. He found his frown deepening as he drew closer, no longer suspicious of some alien lurking outside of his door.

She blew a raspberry. “Oh, oh yeah, Mister Rogers. I, uh, I just ate something bad. I think I have food poisoning or something. Feels like I've got three rocks in my tummy.”

Steve studied her complexion. She didn't look like she needed to go to the hospital, but did look a little pale.

“Hey, Mister Rogers?” She stared up at him, wide eyed, as if noticing something about him for the first time.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Did... did you know, there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes?” She slumped into the floor, clutching her stomach. There was an urgent whimper in her voice, but Steve felt like she was inching away from him.

He reached to pick her up, but then she kept on talking.

“... How nice to, uh, see they aren't perfectly blue? Hey, Mister Rogers?” She looked up again.

Steve sighed and picked her up into his arms. She felt surprisingly heavy, but he didn't dare voice that. He knew even before being turned into an icicle that one of the taboos of talking to ladies was never talking to ladies about their weight. “... Yeah?”

“... Are you going to hold my hair while I puke into the toilet?”

“What?”

“You know, that's what good guys do,” she rolled her eyes for some reason. “Well, when their friends who are girls but aren't their girlfriends are drunk and need to puke and... ah, we're at my door.”

Before Steve could say anything, Kara jumped from his arms and gave him the biggest, brightest smile he'd seen all day. And that was saying something, considering he'd been exposed to Loki's smug mug. “Kara?”

“I got it from here, Mister Rogers!” She tiptoed to try to reach him, but she couldn't, so she just pouted and turned to unlock her door. Somehow, she seemed giddy compared to just moments ago. And her earlier comment about his eye color caused him to look into hers, and he found her multicolored eyes to be quite pretty. It must be one of those new 'contact lenses' he'd read about. She giggled up at him like a blushing schoolgirl, “You're a real gentleman, you know that? Your lady friend is awfully lucky. Bye bye!”

As his neighbor's door closed on his face, Steve mused that he was no less lost and dazed than he was an hour ago during the battle, but now he was also down with a deep sense of bittersweet loss too. After a moment's silence, he sighed and resolved to visit Peggy tomorrow.

Yeah... tomorrow sounded nice, or at least when he was able to.

After he'd slept off what happened today, anyway.

 

“Aren't you supposed to tutor me?” She sounded irritated.

Darcy Lewis didn't look up from her magazine and chewing gum, slowly inflating a pink bubble at her lips. “I'm supposed to be relaxing.”

“Nu uh, you're supposed to be tutoring me.” There was a pause. “What are you reading about anyway?”

A pair of eyes peered over her magazine. They were annoyingly bright eyes, the kind you'd see on celebrities who were already airbrushed before being airbrushed again and then splattered with special effects—the type of eyes you wouldn't expect to see in real life. There was something wrong with them, and her gaze, too... almost as if she wasn't really looking at her, but through her and into her at the same time. The way she watched Darcy with her way-too-perfect eyes was a bit scary; Darcy had seen that gaze on old professors who knew nothing of the classes they taught about. It was the look of someone who knew the numbers and the facts, but never saw people as people, like a professor of economics justifying why the government wasn't doing anything to help Darcy with her student loans.

They were eyes that didn't see Darcy as a real person, just a statistic, or a character in a book.

“What's it matter to you, Miss Zorelle?” Darcy sighed testily, before slamming down her distraction. The way the smaller girl stared at her always made her lose her appetite. “It's just an article about that whole thing happening up in New York.”

The messy blonde sat back down at that, placated for some odd reason.

“Why? You worried?” Darcy prodded, wondering how exactly Kara Zorelle ticked. She probably had some kind of undiagnosed attention disorder or something, making her act more autistic than anything else. Not that Darcy had anything against autism inflicted people, no, but Kara freaked her the fuck out.

“Nah,” Kara shook her head in an exaggerated fashion, as if she were an elementary school student with too much energy. “It's all the way up in New York. We're fine in Virginia, right?”

Darcy's eyes veered back towards the cover of the magazine, lingering on the muscular form of the Thunder God Thor standing in the middle of a wrecked New York street. He looked awful and awfully tired in that picture, covered in cuts, eyes almost droopy, and with a matching pair of large, fist-shaped bruises the size of the Hulk's fist on his left and right cheeks. Yet he was so powerful, in her memories... “Yeah, we'll be fine. Now go scamper off and play with your Instagram or something.”

“Aren't you gonna—”

Darcy darted up and grabbed one of those half-dried dry-erase markers that were left around the room (many of them lost in dark corners behind tables or who-knows-where). She scribbled on the white board in a sprawling, messy hand writing of someone who wanted nothing to do with what she was doing and was only there because she was obligated to be by the school.

ASTROPHYSICS.

“Uh...?” Kara tilted her head and her eyes, very briefly, went cross-eyed.

“There, I wrote the word. Now, maybe next time we'll go further than that, but I'm done for the day,” Darcy leaned back in the professor's chair, not bothering for the hundredth time to even correct the smaller girl's assumption that Darcy had anything about astrophysics to teach her. “Can't believe this is the first thing I'm saddled with after coming back. I'm so moving to London.”

“That's no fair,” Kara actually pouted at her and tried to look like a kicked puppy. Did she actually think that would work on Darcy? “You're an intern too... wait, you went somewhere?”

“Yeah, New Mexico. You never been out of town before?”

“Uh, yeah? I totally have!”

She actually sounded indignant. Darcy found herself smirking, at last, a reaction—something other than this stupid golden retriever impression. Though, if she hadn't had her world view shattered so thoroughly so many times over the past months, Darcy wouldn't have been this disgruntled. Well, maybe a little. “Uh huh. And where've you been?”

“Well, New York. Hong Kong. Uh... Kamar-Taj?” She shrugged.

“Kamar-Taj? Where's that?” Darcy set down her magazine completely and raised an eyebrow.

“It's in, um, Nepal?” Kara replied.

“Are you asking me?” Darcy squinted at the undergrad student before her. The way her hair flowed was just like like her eyes: too perfect. Even in its messy, frazzled, ponytail form, it was too smooth, too silky. Her eyes turned back towards the cover of her magazine, where Thor stood, his hair having been undone some time during the fighting.

Then it clicked, as if a nagging suspicion realized. But she wasn't sure... it could be just something silly. She could be wrong and the girl in front of her could just have such perfect genetics to look so pretty and cute at the same time, like some kind of super-ish girl.

“Kara, are you an alien?” Well, Darcy wasn't good with subtlety. She has had enough of that sitting around watching SHIELD take everything. Yeah, it was better to be blunt, then she could pass it off as a joke if she was wrong—

“W-What, h-how did you—no, n-no, I'm totally not an alien!” Kara denied.

For a moment, Darcy actually believed her. After all, this could just mean that Kara was really stupid. That was something Darcy already knew; other than certain aspects of her academics, her fellow intern was kinda... sorta... retarded. Like, she'd stare off into space or something and see things that weren't there, and call dudes tiny and cute until every guy avoided her like a masculinity-killing plague. But then Darcy backtracked. She still wasn't sure, but she doubted anyone even suspected Kara. Even for her appearance, Kara didn't actually do anything out of the ordinary. She even worked at a Starbucks, had student debts, and everything. So Darcy squinted and casually took out her phone, “... Are you an Asgardian?”

“W-what? No! Why would I be like, like Thor?” Kara scowled, her eyes darting about and briefly landing on the magazine, her little button nose scrunched up in disgusting cuteness. She seemed flustered.

“How did you know Thor is an Asgardian?” Darcy leaned forward. “No one said anything about that.”

“... They didn't?!”

Darcy snorted. “No, it's not like he'll give an interview. So what are you? 'Cuz I have SHIELD on speed dial so you better not be like, what's his face Loki.”

Actually, she didn't. Darcy only knew the name; it was a secret organization after all. But if nothing else, Darcy knew she was a better bluff than Kara was. Then again, Kara was an easy read. It wasn't like she had a dozen tells, or blurted out her secrets or something, but Kara didn't actually think far ahead despite being rather book smart. She looked at every problem as if she was a hammer and they were all nails, more so than even Thor, who had an actual hammer.

“Um... okay... I'm a Stellar Mermaid and our currency is based off of Starbucks and, uh, I like coffee,” Kara fidgeted, but spoke with a straight face.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Fine, don't tell me. You got me, I don't have SHIELD on speed dial. Are you gonna invade the Earth or something though? I mean, 'cuz we got Avengers.”

“Pffft,” Kara mimicked Darcy's eye roll, her eyes twinkling. But her smile didn't seem to reach all the way up to her eyes... no, the way she looked at Darcy was like how some of the secret agents of SHIELD looked at her: calculating if eliminating her would be more cost effective or if leaving her alive was better.

It almost caused Darcy to shiver, but she hid it well.

“I'm just trying to get an education. And pay off my student loans,” Kara said, as if she wasn't casually thinking about killing people with... Darcy didn't know, but, like, with her eyes or something?

“Right. Well. Why don't you clean up the lab and finish the papers the professor wanted or whatever, I'm turning out for the day,” Darcy replied. Yeah, she thought to herself, best start looking for how to get that transfer to London right now. Staying in Virginia, so close to aliens or what have you—it didn't matter, Darcy just wanted to get laid and get paid, not deal with this save-the-world bullshit. That was more Jane's area of expertise.

Yeah. Darcy just wanted to go home and collapse onto her bed with her pants half-taken off and with something stupid being played on her television with bad reception, so that lovely white-noise can lull her to bed. None of this... alien stuff. And with that, she absolved herself of all responsibility and care.

Eh, if Kara was going to attack New York, she'll be on the other side of the world. Win-win.

“Awww,” Kara whined, but she was used to it. As Darcy strolled out of the room, she could still hear the girl's now fading voice carrying an audible pout. “But I was gonna...”

“Don't care!”

 

It was late in the evening when Steve returned to his apartment. He had several bags of groceries in one hand and his gym equipment slung over his shoulder on the other. There was a terrible tension in his shoulders, the sort of knot formed from an unresolved conundrum that bothered him greatly, but was too insignificant for him to voice.

Coming from an era of war and rations, the “super” markets of the today astonished Steve every time he walked into one. It wasn't like they didn't have markets before, but there was something awful and wrong about how every banana was perfectly yellow and without bruises, and how ever piece of meat was so marbled and delicious looking. You couldn't have that kind of meat on his table back then even if they existed; he couldn't afford it.

He never asked anybody at work (how could he when they had more important things to do?) and he didn't really understand this whole internet stuff either. Was... was he supposed to type out “Hello, Google” first and then ask his question? How exactly did that work? What kind of thanks should he type in after he'd gotten his answer? Would “Thank you, Google” be enough or should he be more courteous?

He had all of these questions written down into a little notepad he carried with him everywhere. It was the only way he knew he could catch up on popular culture. Steve didn't want to turn out like Thor after all, but Thor had the excuse of being “not human”. Steve wanted to, at least if he met another alien who was actually friendly, be able to introduce politely the culture of his people, the Americans and the American Way.

Steve stopped at his door and mouthed those words, almost out loud. They sounded so...

“Hey, Mister Rogers! Did you just get back too?” Kara was back, because of course she was. Steve was starting to think she was everywhere at once.

“Yes, Kara what—” Before he could finish his sentence, a pair of dogs as excitable as the girl holding their leash ran up to Steve and started sniffing at his feet. And his hands. And his groceries... mostly his groceries, actually.

“Oh, I'm sooo sorry, Mister Rogers! I just got them and they are just adorable troublemakers!” Kara clapped her hands together as if praying to him, which was quite silly, but then again, she was too. But then she donned a rather grim expression. “Did you do you homework, Mister Rogers?”

“I, my... oh yeah,” Steve fumbled, taking a moment to realize she meant his note taking. “Mind if we take this inside?”

Kara's eyebrows rose, as if Steve had just suggested something incredibly scandalous. “... Sure, Mister Rogers.”

“You know, you can call me Steve, right Kara?” He asked as he turned his keys and took large strides to his refrigerator. It was a brand new one that didn't work as well as the one Howard made a long time ago, but it was still American made, which was good enough in Steve's books.

“Sure, Mister Rogers,” Kara nodded as she followed him into his abode. “Whatever you say, Mister Rogers.”

“... That was a reference, wasn't it?” Steve sighed, realizing he had more movies to watch on his list. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on what movies to watch, and it was getting tiresome... he just wanted to know what was the part that everyone else was so excited about. It wasn't that he didn't like catching up on culture, it was just like... well, playing golf or something... it was a thing that only people with the luxury of having too much time on their hands to not bother with doing their jobs would be doing.

“Eh,” Kara shrugged. “Oh, by the way, Mister Rogers, can I ask a favor of you?”

This gave Steve a pause. This was the first time his little neighbor asked anything from him; usually she just offered to help him with just about anything, like trying to carry his groceries for him as if he were an old man, but this was different. He turned to her and tried to hide the surprise on his face, “Sure Kara, what is it?”

She smiled brightly at this. “Oh, Mister Rogers. You're too nice! But, well, I'm heading over to California and some places for a few days—some business and stuff going hot, you see some business is, well, exploding, shall we say, and I was wondering if you could babysit my puppies for me, pretty please?”

Steve was surprised, and also a bit reluctant. He had just seen how Peggy was. Even friendships felt like something he wanted to recoil from. He knew a while ago that they were changing from just being neighbors and acquaintances into something that was probably friends, but she didn't know about his identity as Captain America. How could he have a friendship without showing that side of him, something that made him who he was? He wondered if he kept himself from thinking about this simply because he wanted to spare himself, or if he wanted to spare her from rejection.

But while he was thinking to himself, Kara plowed on as if he had nodded in agreement or at least acknowledged her. “So this Golden Retriever is Thor, he's the older brother and he's seven months old. See how he's sniffing your butt now? That's him liking you, probably. And this little sulking puppers is Loki the troublemaker, he's a German Shepard and he doesn't follow the rules! Rawr! You'll have to watch out for Loki because he'll bite your fingers if you're not careful.”

Steve was speechless.

“... Hello? Mister Rogers? Can you keep Loki out of trouble, please?” Kara peered up at him innocently.

Steve sighed, mentally of course. After a moment he looked down at the two small dogs, 'Thor' was sitting on 'Loki'. “I... okay, Kara. A few days, you said?”

“Yeah! I have, like everything printed out and their food and stuff, thanks, Mister Rogers! You're the best!” She tried to jump up to hug him, but she only reached his chest at best and settled for hugging his waist. After a moment she turned and ran out his door, “Just give me a minute, I'll grab that, and um, did you finish watching the Princess Bride?”

“Yes,” Steve nodded awkwardly, feeling almost compelled to keep an eye on the German Shepard puppy. “It was...” surprisingly “... good.”

“Great, I'll get the sequels, the Princess Diaries too, and we can binge those!” She ran down the stairs to her apartment.

Steve turned back to the two puppies. One was trying to get at his mug and the other was running around in circles. “So this is what I came out of the ice for, huh. Could be worse.”

 

It has been a long night. Tony has not had a moment's rest, not really, in what felt like a life time. Everything ached, he felt like he'd never ran or walked as much as he had today. Everything hurt, and even though he thought he was still at the peak of his life, he felt, almost, old. Not invincible.

It was a bad feeling that vibrated in his bones, even now as he stared into the eyes of the old woman sitting across from him. Her tired, fearful eyes darted back and forth between Tony and the woman who cuffed him... this agent whom he knew was no agent. Her hand that held her badge glowed red, as if someone had strung thick cables of LED lights along her bones, under her flesh, pulsing eerily.

Tony nearly sighed. He'd been running on adrenaline for far too long, that he didn't even feel anything now. He just turned again towards the old, tired lady, nodding towards her.

She took his cue, tossing her folder of confidential information under a table.

He felt as tired as the scared woman looked; Tony knew the urgency of the moment—the fake FBI agent woman had drawn a gun, pointing it at an innocent bystander. Tony almost didn't even listen. He couldn't bring himself to, knowing that the poor man, despite helping him, was about to die. And it was all Tony's fault.

Tony's breathing skipped a step, and he nearly tripped on his own ankles. He tried to hold it off, the anxiety, the helplessness, the overwhelming feeling of being suffocated and drowned in an utter lack of strength...

… He still had some control over himself, and he darted towards the doors. The moment was just a moment, and it had passed, for now. It might return, but not while his life was so close to danger.

Bang.

Tony didn't turn around at the sound of the gun shot. He knew what had happened.

The sheriff was dead. The woman had followed him here. It was his fault. he could have prevented this.

If only... if only he'd... if...

“Hey, Mister Stark,” a young, oddly familiar voice called out to him. It was accompanied by the sound of chewing gum and cheekiness, with the sort of attitude of a rebellious child might have had back in the nineties. “Where're you goin'?”

Despite himself, Tony turned around. It was that girl again. That girl who disappeared after the Battle of New York. The one they suspected of eating the core of the Tesseract, and the head of Loki's scepter... whoever she was. The girl was holding the fake agent woman's wrists as if she were holding a half-filled grocery bag, with the bare minimum of her forefinger, middle finger and her thumb. In her other hand, she was holding onto a black, round metallic thing that shone in the dark light of the bar.

Tony's eyes focused on that, and he realized it... it was a bullet. But it wasn't a normal bullet, and not in the traditional sense either. The bullet had impacted against the girl's palm, but it looked like it'd been plucked out of the air at the same time, squeezed slightly down the middle of the shell. It was as if the bullet had been moved around so fast that it'd taken on the properties of a liquid, only to stop and roll around between the strange girl's fingers. It looked like, well, a piece of chewed bubble gum.

“... Uh. Out.” Tony replied. He didn't know how to feel about this girl. She was clearly dangerous, but why was she here? So many questions fluttered at the surface of his mind, but Tony didn't feel like even processing through them. He was an engineer, not a detective. He didn't like dealing with these things, so out of the field that he didn't know what to think of them. He had too little information on who he was dealing with to begin with, and if this girl, whom all he knew about was that she could eat an energy source that could open wormholes—how much power that is, he had some ideas—he might as well just give up now.

“Really? But I just got here.” She raised an eyebrow at him, almost as if she were a cat looking at a cornered mouse. Tony had seen that look on many a woman before, most of them thinking they had him cornered. This was familiar territory, and he almost felt safe. But she wasn't looking at him, but at the entrance behind him. Tony turned over his shoulder, seeing only a little girl shaped hole in the walls, right beside the door. She chortled, “ah, well, if I go through the door, people will expect me, see?”

“Uh huh.” He inched away from her.

“Ah, please, none of that! Is, um, this lady important to you?” She turned to the fake agent, who was now nearly all red faced. The woman was not blushing, but actually glowing in the face and eyes in the same way her hands were. Actually, her wrists were glowing in the same way—hot enough to melt metals—but the little girl didn't even seem to notice.

“... well.” Tony shrugged, remembering not to shrug too hard with his cuffed wrists. “Maybe? I'd rather just get away from her, if it's all the same to you.”

“Now, hold on here, what in tarnation is going on?” The rotund sheriff who Tony had assumed would have died, if not for the little girl, roared at Tony. His eyes darted between him and the girl and the woman, utterly lost. “Who in the hell are you? Who in the hell is he? What the hell is going on?”

“You,” the little girl dropped the bullet and poked the sheriff in the forehead, “can go get me a glass of... hm, what do I wanna drink at a bar? Oh, gimme a glass of milk.”

Tony couldn't see the sheriff's expression, but from his side, he only saw the man nod and walk away.

Tony's heart skipped a beat. What the hell was that? That looked like... like when Loki stabbed someone with his spear. He suddenly felt even smaller than before, his battered ego so utterly bruised by the last few days' worth of events, Tony wanted nothing more than to roar up at the sky at how unfair things were.

Then the girl poked the woman's forehead, and Tony saw it clearly this time. The woman's eyes darkened into pure blackness, no whites, no colors, just utter darkness. And then they cleared, and her eyes glowed with an eerie golden aura. And then the girl began to speak, her eyes darting towards Tony, almost as if she were speaking for his benefit. But what were the odds of that? “So, what's your name?”

“Brandt.” The woman spoke tonelessly, too calm, too fitting for the now utterly soundless bar. She didn't notice everyone else was staring at them, not even the girl seemed to notice or care, but Tony sure did.

“Right then,” the girl smiled an innocent smile directly at Tony. But to Tony, it looked deceptive, and he wondered how a being like her could have such a pure smile. She could be some kind of sociopath. “Mister Stark, why don't you have a seat over there?”

He wanted to say something like that he'll stand, thanks, or something to that effect. But the girl's eyes glowed, not with the same eerie yellow-red light of the woman, Brandt, but like a multifaceted, multicolored gem... always with a sort of red rage behind it.

Clink.

Tony looked down, his cuffs were melted down the middle as if they were made of soft ice, yet he couldn't feel the heat.

Well.

It wouldn't hurt to hear her out.

“What... are you doing here? Who are you?” Tony blurted as he pulled out a chair. The sheriff had returned, with a glass of milk, before sitting down at the bar, as if he were minding his own business. But Tony saw him watching them, unblinkingly.

“I'm Kara. And I'm here because I noticed you could use an intern, Mister Stark.” She puffed out her chest, as if she were proud to ask for an internship from Tony Stark.

That did sooth his ego, if a little.

Still...

“... What.”

“Oh, right, before I forget, she comes in pairs.” There was a blur, and she disappeared.

Tony blinked.

Kara was back, and she was holding onto a struggling, bald man.

Tony had seen this man somewhere before. Maybe? This night had become so crazy that he'd...

She poked his forehead, and he became a zombie like Brandt. And then she nudged his ribs, as if reminding him of something. He spoke tonelessly too, “I am Savin.”

“Tony,” He replied reflexively. He paused. “Wait. How are you doing that?”

“Oh,” Kara clapped her hands. “Goodie! Exposition time! I love this part!”

Tony frowned. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but the girl had already started talking as if she were letting out a stream of sound out of a dam, as if there were no spaces between her words.

“You know that Tesseract you guys were trying to protect? Did Thor tell you what was in it? Oh, yeah how is he, did he get home fine?” She suddenly took on a look of concern, but Tony couldn't help but feel it felt a little off. How could she care so much, so suddenly, and yet not even think about it until this moment.

That was another little clue that supported his idea that she was like Thor... something not from Earth. “Yeah, there was enough residual energy for him to return. What is it, the core of the Tesseract? Some kind of treasure?” It seemed that way, with how people fought over it.

She sighed happily. “Phew! Yeah! It's one of six, like, things that were probably left from the death of a previous universe. Well, that's what I think anyway, they say it's basically something that's been around before the beginning of the universe, forged into an ingot. Ingot... that's a funny word.”

Tony snapped in front of Kara's face. “Focus.”

“... Uh, sure, Mister Stark,” Kara deferred to his command, which was strange. She didn't seem to have that same sort of hangups that Thor and Loki had, the sort of ego and feeling of arrogant superiority... yet she could catch a bullet as if it were a softball. “So... there's six infinity stones, and there's like a thing that says if you get all of them, you're like omnipotent and omniscient and everything. And that guy who's the boss of the boss of those Chitauri you guys fought? He's this guy called Thanos, who's like one of the most powerful people in the universe, wrecks entire planets and everything.”

“Uh huh,” Tony wished he had Jarvis here. At least he'd be able to record this conversation. Now he had to remember all of this, somehow, and keep track of all the things the girl was saying, none of which seemed to make any sense. But he'd allow her to talk, if nothing else than to learn more... this was certainly lore that Thor hadn't shared.

Why? Why didn't Thor tell them any of this? Did he not know? But the way she talked, as if she expected Thor to know...

“What's this all got to do with you mind whammying them like,” Tony motioned towards the two fake agents. “That.”

“Oh... uh, so inside Loki's scepter, there's another gem... ah, right, so inside the Tesseract, there's one of the six infinity stones, the space gem. And there's one in Loki's called the mind gem.” She patted her stomach proudly, “and I can use them in ways Loki could only dream! Well, no, that's just boasting, I guess I can use them pretty well.”

Tony held up a hand. This was a fucking lot to take in. “Six 'infinity stones' that, combined, make the owner omnipotent and omniscient. And you have two of them.” He made air quotes.

“Three, actually,” Kara shook her head cutely, as if she were a regular middle schooler. “I got the time gem too.”

“Three,” Tony deadpanned. What the hell was the world coming to? “And why are you here?”

“I want to be your intern?” She smiled up at him hopefully, as if she hadn't been dropping bombs on him for the past five minutes. “Like, do you think if you gave me a space ship, it'd be my internship intern's ship?”

Tony cupped his face into his palms. He didn't need this right now. In fact, he wished he was facing the Mandarin instead. This was too much madness, too soon, for his life, even for him. As if he were asking God, he sighed, “Why me?”

Kara shrugged. “This universe of marvelous heroes and cinematic events sort of started, in its modern form, with you doing the Ironman, no?”

It sounded nice, but it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

And as if she'd notice she was being watched by the rest of the bar, Tony saw through the gap between his fingers Kara turning around and smiling and waving at everyone else in the bar. “Hail Hydra everyone! … I'm just kidding, it was a joke, bro! Or is it?”

Tony sighed. Where was that anxiety attack when you needed it?

 

Notes: I seem to remember something being the inspiration of this chapter... but I can't seem to remember what it was...

---​

He ran into his office in a panic. His face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hands shook with the anxiety built up from the past few weeks. His fingers slipped twice off of the doorknob of his olden styled, cramped office before he forced open his door. It always jammed the first time he opened the door each day, he had to lift it up almost a millimeter before the windowed door would creak open.

His office was filled with files, some half packed and some sticking out of filing cabinets. The mahogany desk that sat at the center of his room like the nucleus of the room held many stacks of papers. It wasn't that he needed them, but with the on goings since the now named Battle of New York, everything had changed. No one watched his show anymore, not after the truth of aliens exploded into existence through the wormhole in the sky...

… No one believed his shows. They didn't even bother calling it pseudohistory anymore, they just called it fake. After all, why couldn't he predict it? Everything was collapsing around him, and after working on his shows for this long? He didn't know what to do. Everything in his life ended that day at New York, even though he wasn't there.

“Mister...” A voice startled him out of his moment of rest—he'd almost had a second of calm—and filtered out from beyond the hills of unsorted and unboxed papers. “... Su kalos?”

“Tsoukalos,” Giorgio replied heavily, not even caring to make a fuss about someone somehow sneaking into his office and sitting down in his chair. He looked up and saw the almost cherubic visage of someone who had too smooth of skin and too fine of hair. But Giorgio knew these types of people. They were young, beautiful and talented, the perfect type of carrier of bad news. He braced himself for the worst—it can't get any worse than having his show, Ancient Aliens, canceled, could it? “What can I do for you, Miss...?”

“Zorelle, Kara Zorelle,” the girl replied with an almost knowing grin. She said her name with a sort of accent that Giorgio couldn't quite place, as if it wasn't spelled the way he envisioned it in his head. But then she tilted her head to a side questioningly and reached out to shake his hand. “Hi!”

“Hello,” Giorgio demurred. “So... Zorelle like the character from the Wheel of Time, huh?”

The girl, Kara, blinked and frowned. “No... Wheel of Time, you say? I should get to reading that eventually. You know how you feel like you have all the time in the world and that only makes you want to procrastinate more?”

He used to, but that was a lifetime ago, when he wasn't in a position of responsibility. Even before he was a promoter, perhaps back when he was in school, he'd have procrastinated once or twice. People thought he was the type from how wild his hair was, but it was just a look, really. He didn't even believe everything that his show said... well, not completely, anyway. He always though there were aliens out there, but not... well, he was getting off track. Giorgio shook his head, “I don't have much time for anything, Miss Zorelle. Is there something I can help you with? And can I ask how you get into my office?”

She started up at him and then down at her outreached hand that had been left unshaken. Then she blew out a sigh and rolled her eyes at him, as if this was what she'd expected of the lunatic who was turned into an internet meme about aliens. She allowed her hand to fall down to her lap, where she steepled her fingers and a shadow fell over her eyes.

And suddenly, Giorgio Tsoukalos was very, very aware of how the formerly innocent-looking blonde sitting in his old chair had eyes that glowed like they held the fires from the pits of hell. He gulped audibly.

His mind cluttered with ideas—both for a new episode, and for the scenario. He could make something of a girl with glowing eyes on television, but what did it mean? Was she a demon? Was she an alien? Everything changed after New York... everything was possible.

This scared him.

“Mister Tsoukalos,” Kara Zorelle tasted his name on the tip of her tongue as if she were Agent Smith and she was enunciating Neo's name with painful slowness. “What would you say, if I were to tell you that you were... on the right track?”

“... Excuse me?” He did not expect this, even though he should have. This was... this was what he needed. The possibilities flooded into his mind, he knew what those words meant, but he almost couldn't comprehend them when they were put together. Think of it... the very idea of actual ancient aliens...?

She took a deep breath in a way that was a cross between a person trying very desperately to hold back laughter and a sigh of exasperation, but it came out to seem like she was almost disappointed in him. “I am here because I thought you were a person who made a show about aliens. Most people don't do that. Most people don't believe aliens existed on earth, well, before...”

“New York,” Giorgio finished her sentence for him.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Are you saying... what I think you're saying?” Giorgio's lower lip trembled. There was certainly something surreal about this situation, about what they were talking about, but all he could think of was the laughter of his peers. His mind flashed back to when he went to reunions, how even his classmates who became the least successful of their class—people who had to do stints in places like McDonald's and Starbucks—would mock him. He thought of family reunions.

Yes, he couldn't control how his lower lip trembled. Validation was withing sight, coming out of nowhere, and the more he looked down at the little girl—too small, as if she were just a freshmen in highschool or something, still dressed in baggy Levi's jeans and a sweater with a Stark Industries logo printed on it that was more to the size of a grown adult man than for a girl—he thought she looked almost angelic.

He wanted to thank her, hold her hands and cry, as if she were a prophet of old.

“Yeah?” She stared at him warily, and he realized he was being too emotional.

No, Giorgio Tsoukalos was a professional, first and foremost. He straightened his back and fixed his posture, a posture that was too fixed to look good on television for a camera's angle and actually looked quite awkward in real life, and he reached out to shake her hand. “It is... an honor to meet you, Miss Zorelle, but what do you want from me?”

He was too familiar with the world of show business.

It was always going to be a matter of give and take... that was why he could only take the scraps he could get. And that was why his show was scrapped.

She seemed amused by this. “Do you have your crew?”

“Only,” he swallowed thickly, “only the bare bones. Everyone else is already on other projects.”

“Well, that's fine. You want an interview? Or do you want to have some evidence?” Her eyes darted down to her nails, as if she were trying to convey with obviousness that she was growing bored of their conversation.

That, Giorgio could understand. He realized this was an alien who looked human, and yet she was also very intimate with human actions.

Those were some very precise microexpressions on her face, he noticed as he stared at her.

“B-Both?”

She chortled.

“Okay.”

He rushed to get something set up, even if it was to take place in his office.

There wasn't anywhere else they had, at the moment, with the proper lighting, and he felt like he couldn't just ask her to stay. He couldn't take that sort of rejection, and he wouldn't jeopardize this endeavor for the sake of perfection. He had to get the word out there... he could have one final episode, something to end and tie it all together. So what if they canceled his show? His name would live on forever if he could do this right.

And so they gathered a camera man and an intern to help with the lights, and they got to work. And of course, an inner nerd part of Giorgio's mind was shaking with glee.

He was about to interview a real, living alien... with proof.

And then they began, and she blew his mind, over and over again, and he knew they had gold.

“The world is older than you know, Mister Tsoukalos, beings far older than humanity, as you are now, have come and gone on earth. You guys seem to think you know this, even before, you know, New York. You got dinosaur bones,” Kara leaned back, starting slow. That was fine—they could edit footage later. But of course, an unedited version would definitely make a definitive Blu-ray sales go through the roof.

“So how do you fit into all this?” He asked excitedly.

“Well, I was on Earth a couple thousand years ago. And a while before that... I visited a few earlier time periods. The Earth is a very interesting place, dinosaurs certainly were, but... it was really around the time of the Romans that, um, people got to knew Earth, outside of Earth. They still call this planet Terra, on other planets, you know?” She added.

“Terra... so there's a story behind that?” He asked, thinking he'd definitely have to ask one of his friends, a professor from DeVry University, to add extra commentary on this. It wouldn't be the History Channel without that.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. So, there have been people trying to invade Earth, or Terra, for thousands of years. There's even things from strange dimensions without time trying to get in... I wasn't always around to save the world, and you guys didn't have your first Avenger until Hitler's time.” Kara mused on this for a moment. There was a lull in the conversation, but he didn't dare interrupt her thoughts, not when she was about to drop another bomb.

But after a minute, he got antsy and impatient and asked, “So who protected the Ea... er, Terra before?” He'd have to get used to calling the planet that, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Oh, all sorts of people. One of my teachers, a human, who only calls herself the Ancient One, she protected the world for a few hundred years.” Miss Zorelle revealed, as if she were just talking about the weather.

And that shocked Giorgio.

It was like she was just talking about something that happened yesterday... but he knew she was talking about something that must have happened hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago.

“... So this Ancient One, she was a human and she taught you? Have other aliens come to Terra for teaching of mankind?” He asked.

“Oh, sure. Why, I know there's a Celestial who even came here and fell in love.” Kara grinned, but then she paused. “Ah, but I'm getting off topic. See, the Ancient One is actually the leader of an ancient order sworn to keep the world safe... they had a lot of names in the past, but you guys called them 'sorcerers', and that's what they call themselves.”

“Sorcerers,” Giorgio repeated. He was already thinking about how he could get someone who was an expert on Arthurian legends from the University of Phoenix to talk about how Merlin was actually a defender of the entire world. He could see it... this episode had enough information for a two-parter.

He could even make a new episode talking about how alien technology was just human magic! Let them call his show pseudoscience after that! Ha!

“Yeah, so, they sort of have bases in like, New York, and Hong Kong, and some place in Nepal. Yeah.” She paused and then tried to count off one by one with her fingers. “Yeah, that should be right. So, um, there's a Celestial who visited earth back during the Hippie ages. Oh, right a Celestial is basically a cosmic god. Not like Thor—he's just an Asgardian, so he'll just live, like, five thousand years or something. A Celestial is someone who basically lives forever and has enough power to blow up planets like hotcake. Did I use that right?”

“Um,” Giorgio tried to wrap his head around Miss Zorelle's previous statement.

“What even is a hotcake? I'd like to try one. See, I skipped a lot of human history, so there's that problem... maybe I'll look it up. Wikipedia is really helpful,” she added.

“... Yeah.”

“Hey, you wanna see the little house I left here one of the times I visited your past?” She asked suddenly.

“Sure,” Giorgio replied before he realized what he was agreeing to. He hadn't asked all the questions. There was so much more he had to know—about the invasion of New York, even!

She waved a hand, and a hole appeared on the wall of his office. A blast of cold air drifted in, and he had to turn away at the biting chill. The hole... the portal... was similar to the one that appeared above New York, it was lined by a glow of blue light and it showed a wintry land on the other side.

“Erm, where are we going?” Giorgio asked uncertainly. He wasn't sure if he was properly dressed for this.

“Antarctica!” She grinned like a shark. “A couple million years ago, I put a little outpost there and named it Atlantis, but I think it's like, really covered in snow now. Well, we can portal right into it and I can just get it out of the ground or something. It's like my Fortress of Solitude, but you know, I guess the word got out or something, right? It actually had some stuff to do with ancient humans, maybe? I don't know, honestly. I just put it together.
I do have a little gate to other planets down there though...
”

Ah, Giorgio Tsoukalos realized it finally. It wasn't going to be a two-parter. He'll have enough content and footage to make a new season, if not a whole new show!

 

“Sir?”

Everything was going wrong. Nothing was going as planned. Where were Brandt and Savin?

“... Sir?”

The way Tony Stark gloated at him, even as he was tied up, as if everything was going by some kind of divine plan—and in Stark's mind, probably his own plan—only grated on his nerves even more. The way that infuriating man looked at him, as if he knew something that he didn't... it pissed him off. But it couldn't be; he had the Vice President of the United States in his pocket. He had his plants, that was no way...

“Sir!”

“What?!” Aldrich Killian roared as his fist swung around and crashed down on the control console before him. He had been sitting back with his feet resting on the machinery in front of him, deep in thought and stewing over his anger. But now he'd leaped to his feet and his neck glowed as if he was going to spew hot fire through his mouth.

“... Sir, you might want to see this,” one of his less used and less experienced experiments murmured.

It was a mistake to have sent both Brandt and Savin out, Killian thought. They were better thinkers, and they could make tactical decisions on their own and pretty much everyone working for him, by this point, had been injected with Extremis. A muscle could have done the job fine... no, they could have done it even better. Stark must have figured something out while taking them out—what else could have happened to them? But Killian kept this to himself, and he turned to his employee and calmed himself down, straightening his jacket as if he had not made any outbursts, “What is it?”

The man pushed his laptop towards Killian. The screen was showing some website called 'Twitch”, which seemed to be some kind of video streaming website not looking too different from the multitudes of others on the internet. The video was of some child making almost spastic motions with her hands and talking too fast for Killian to care.

His minion seemed to notice this and spoke, “She's streaming on Youtube and other video platforms as well, sir.”

“Well?” Killian sighed. “Turn it up.”

“...So guys, it's me, your gal, Kara Zorelle, and we're about to do some superheroing! If you're just tuning in now, let me catch you up to speed. I'm the last survivor of an intergalactic species of aliens, which is why I look so weird, and I'm here on Earth as a intern to one of Earth's greatest heroes!” She spoke too quickly, but with a sort of spontaneous motion and tone that belied she wasn't reading off any script.

And then a voice called from the background, outside of the camera's view. “Coffee!”

Killian unconsciously gripped his hands into fists. He knew that voice. That was the voice of the man who left him to take this road, the man who started this all and opened his eyes to the way the world worked... a man he both hated and respected, really.

It was Tony Stark. It had to be.

But he didn't move into view, instead, it was the girl who started to panic. “Oh! Shit! Right, um, right away, Mister Stark, sir!”

“What am I looking at?” Killian turned to his employee.

The man evaded his gaze, almost as if he was going to shuffle his feet if he had any less discipline. “Sir, she's been streaming videos of her, along with Tony Stark and Lieutenant Rhodes. There's videos of her pulling people out of the Air Force One and videos of her flying to the moon for a...”

“A what?” Killian growled impatiently.

“... A coffee break, sir.” The man gulped as Killian closed in on him.

Killian turned back to the computer. There was a short list of other videos below, linked. They were all just minutes long, posted between one hour and half an hour ago, and there were over three million people currently watching her live stream. That number was ticking higher and higher with each passing second and—

“So, uh, Mister Stark's been attacked by, like, this evil organization that's behind the Mandarin and everything, and we're going to go save the President now. Oh wait, I gotta ask him,” She stopped talking and walked out of the room, but her voice could still be heard, despite at a much lower volume. “Hey, Mister Stark, can I come with?”

“Kara...” Stark's voice sounded strained. “I... look, I'd love to, but I won't say that it's because I don't know what you're capable of, okay?”

You could almost hear her pouting. “But you didn't know what the other Avengers were capable of...”

Stark's reply was honest. “Actually, I did. I knew of them even if I didn't know them. I read their files, I studied their story, and I had independent sources to back up what I learned about them from SHIELD.”

SHIELD? Killian's eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“... Aw... can I come watch? I promise I won't interfere!” She persisted.

“Fine. It's not far anyway and we're pressed for time, so it's not like I have time to lecture you. Not that I want to, that's not my thing.” He paused, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Maybe I shouldn't be drinking this... I haven't slept in a few days so that can't be healthy, can it?”

There was a pause, something like static in the background. The microphone was shit.

Then Stark started rambling again, as he often did. “Usually Jarvis says something mothering at that cue.”

“Sorry boss,” the girl's voice was getting louder. “I'll make a note of this, boss! Where are we going again?”

“The docks. Suit up, Rhodey!”

The girl was on the screen again, “Right, yeah, I'm not changing in front of y'all, okay? Anyway, going there's gonna be boring, so I'll start streaming again when the action starts! Sighing out, winky face!”

A strange semicolon and a parentheses appeared on the blackening screen for half a second, weirdly enough. It must have been some kind of teen thing. How inane, Killian thought.

Killian pulled away from the screen. He couldn't believe how utterly crap Stark's operational security was... but then again, he could believe it. Stark was a decadent, narcissistic man gifted with too much talent and resources, who squandered it in the saddest ways. But he would come around, after he saw his sweetheart burning before his eyes, perhaps. He found himself plastered with a rather sadistic smile.

Then Killian clapped twice, loudly and getting the room's attention. “Well, gentlemen, get ready! It seems like Stark's bringing us some audience for our show. Best not disappoint! And you too, Mister President.”

So the plan had gone to shit. Everything was fucked, but so what? He wasn't going to show his face, and once the President of the United States died on camera—he'll have to get Stark's assistant a little thank you card for getting him some extra eyes for his big show—AIM will control the War on Terror.

Yes, Killian thought. He had everything under control.

 

The moment they rose into the air, the haze in her mind cleared.

She loved flight. She loved flying. She loved how the wind flowed between their fingers, how their hair whipped behind their back. This was the sense of unaided flight, being able to move any direction she willed as easily as, if not easier than, walking.

And that was why she thought she was the real one.

Real... what?

She sounded so smug in their mind.

And she, the one who loved flying, found it disgusting. She didn't like how she treated their lack of... their comprehension of their situation as if it were a simple problem. A simple problem like...

Like what? What is even a simple problem to us anymore?

Yet she who was smug also loved flying. The tender joy of feeling the vapors of the clouds brushing gently against your cheeks, like drifting lazily into a sauna, like burying her face into the fur of a golden retriever, like sunlight burning on her skin on a lazy Sunday morning as she laid not awake and not asleep, somewhere in between where everything was warm...

Like burying your face into a set of beautiful breasts...?

That was the problem though.

They shared this and that, so they could both do this and that.

It was crazy, it was insanity.

It's us.

She has the save voice as her in their mind. She remembered the same things, the end of the universes, the collapse of everything, being right there in the front lines... getting punched in the face by Doomsday, being torn apart by Darkseid's Omega Effect, headbutting the Anti-Monitor...

… yet she remembered sitting in some defunct book store called Borders in her very earliest memories, and seeing all of this in ink, on paper.

She wanted to shake her head, trying to make sense of a conundrum that only grew more tangled the more she thought about it.

No, none of this made any sense. Perhaps that was why she wished it did make sense.

She believed she was the real one, because she wanted to get back to it all. Perhaps get to a new one. She might have even settled for this place, but she was too curious... how was everyone doing? Were there anyone looking for her?

… Could anyone find her?

If not... we can always find them, once we have all of the cosmos in our hands.

No. That isn't the way to do things, such power, in our hands... If Mister Stark can help us, then we should have sought him out first.

A preventive measure then.

You're joking.

Yes. A joke.

… How delightful.

I tend to think of us as a protector... they're a fragile bunch. If they don't work together, if they don't come together, if they do not become Earth's Mightiest Champions...

… It would be so easy to just collect them all, ignoring everyone.

Now who was the one who sounded more real?

But it wasn't her turn, she would have to wait. Waiting for her to mess with the tens of millions of people watching, humiliate the villains gloating, and sass the President. Well, she didn't want to do that anyway.

But the thought, once it was there, was now stuck in her head. She hated how she had become so introspective. She despised it, truthfully, because she wanted to charge through everything. It would be easier that way, simpler, more enjoyable.

She wouldn't have started to form attachments to people here.

And she knew, one day, she might leave and never return.

She didn't want that.

Even if this world was nonexistent in one life, and a set of films in another. This universe, despite feeling so real, couldn't be. Some part of her, not her, wanted to settle down here, and forget the past. Something must have came and swept it away. Some thing that destroyed her multiverse.

Right?

It was this universe that was just a bunch of movies, right?

She was real, right? And her, she was real too right?

Must one of us be... not real?

I hope not...

But what if... both of them weren't real?

Despite it not being her turn, and despite being sunken and chained into one corner of their mind, she found herself willing their body's breathing to quicken. Their heart must have been beating a hundred times a second.

Anxiety filled their veins, and dread nearly weighed them down from the sky. It was hard to fly, when despair gripped their mind. One a bleak hope remained if the minds of those like Tony Stark couldn't find their origins... if these great people of science couldn't prove their existence. They'd have to rely on the most powerful objects in the universe... to... what?

To see if we have a home to go back to? To see if our friends and families are still there?

If we are even real?

I must be losing my mind.

That makes two of us.

 

Notes: Not very happy with this one, but I thought I might as well knock it out of the way. Tony isn't seeing much because he's tired, sleep deprived, lost some blood, bruised, injured, burned through adrenaline without having paused all day, and just all around worn out. Still felt like I was showing... too little, you know? Like I was going at it from the wrong angle. Not sure what to do about that... Don't know how to fix.

---​

Tony was out of breath.

He really wished Rhodey didn't need such a high vantage point. Couldn't they have grabbed a commercial drone and used that to get sight on everything rather than climbing so many stairs? There was a way onto the old tanker that Killian and his bunch of terrorists were stationing themselves that didn't require like a thousand steps. Ugh.

He wished they could have taken the elevator, or hell, even get his little intern to carry them up. Not that Rhodey would go for that though; it was too revealing, he'd said.

They'd see them coming, he'd said.

You could tell it wasn't a normal night at the shipyard or whatever this place was. Tony didn't know the exact purpose of the place and how it'd have normally functioned other than being some sort of shipyard, but there were lights and people everywhere. And everyone was armed, like some kind of Hollywood action flick. There were cameras and people everywhere, it was almost like this was a movie set.

And for a moment there, Tony felt like John McClain.

He didn't want to be John McClain. Every single Die Hard movie had him getting injured, thrown around, shot at, and whatever else. Tony could still remember watching the first one back when he was a little boy and mimicking McClain's running around barefoot. He'd stepped on a little shard of glass, and after that, his nanny never let him out to play without supervision.

Come to think of it, it was kind of weird for him to have a nanny back then, wasn't it? Normal people didn't have nannies until they were fourteen. Maybe it was his unique upbringing, but was the end result really that much more desirable?

That Tony was drifting off to think about it now, while his heart rate started climbing and he was about to run head-first into a combat zone was indication that maybe he'd have to get that checked.

He peaked around like a groundhog peering out from the ground on the first of April, his gaze swept over the shipyard from his vantage point watching the oil tanker, beyond it into the blackness of the night sky that seemed utterly blank in contrast to the blindingly bright search lights that Killian had running, and behind him. His intern was still just a little shadowy figure in the background, watching them and playing around with her cellphone. Tony made a mental note to peek at what she was fiddling around with on her phone once this was all over, if he survived. He was also wondering why no one seemed to notice her or bothered her... if he could see her, then why couldn't they?

Strangely, he also noticed that there were a lot of cars driving around the docks, all pulling in from that one road they arrived on. The road was congesting to the point of peak hours of Los Angeles traffic, it was almost as bright as Killian's setup.

Something... didn't feel right. Tony couldn't quite place his finger on it, so he absentmindedly followed Rhodey further up the stairs.

“Is your gun up?” Rhodey suddenly asked.

“Yep,” Tony muttered. He immediately raised the hand he was holding the gun to an awkward position. He didn't feel like this was how people held guns, but this was how his arm was raised when he fired his repulsors on his palms... it followed the same concept, right? They were both projectile weapons fired by one hand, what could go wrong? “What do I do?”

“The broadcast will commence shortly, get in your positions.” Some nondescript male voice spoke over a loud microphone.

“Stay on my six, cover high and don't shoot me in the back,” Rhodey replied without turning around to Tony.

If they were sitting down and having this conversation, Tony would have rolled his eyes. “Six, high, back. Alright.”

And that was when someone started firing on them.

No, that wasn't right. All of the searchlights turned to him, and at least ten—his eyes counted ten, but it was hard to do this without an augmented reality head-up display interfaced into a protective helmet counting his enemies for him—people pointing what looked like semi-automatic rifles at him.

He reached up to shoot at one of the searchlights, intending on emptying his clip in that general direction if he didn't hit anything—John McClain made this look a lot easier in the movies.

But then something grazed his shoulder, throwing him back.

Why was his neck feeling wet?

His breathing felt so shallow and quick, but it felt like he wasn't gasping enough air in each breath to keep himself from freaking out. Was he having another attack, now?

Rhodey pulled him behind some kind of metal box or something. It was cover. His eyes were wide.

Heh. Tony didn't want to be a... well, he couldn't see clearly even with all the searchlights flashing around their proximity. He could hardly see Rhodey's face in the night; all he saw were the whites of his eyes.

“All personnel, let's welcome our guests.” That voice... Tony found himself squinting, a fire suddenly burning in the dark pits of his heart. That was Killian's voice, and it was so fucking smug.

“Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” There was a blur of light and sound, and suddenly all Tony heard was the clinking sounds of a thousand little pieces of metal clinking and clanking against the similarly metal floor. His new intern was standing over them, in the air. She was standing in the air, almost like she was pacing back and forth, swallowing thickly while catching all the stray bullets flying at them without looking at them. “Sir, um, this isn't how I wanted this to happen. Why didn't you dodge?”

Tony rolled his eyes then. Fuck it, why not? And he tried to pick himself up, but for some reason his legs felt a little weak. “Dodge bullets, Miss Zorelle? You overestimate me. Not a first, because I am the... how did you put it? The first modern superhero?”

He blinked.

Literally, within one blink of the eye, she was standing right over him and he couldn't quite see her arms. They were blurs, and he felt as if a thousand hands were pressing against him at the same time.

Another blink.

His neck felt stiff. It wasn't that his neck was stiff, it was that something was binding that part of his body.

Tony looked down. Ah. He was shot. There was still blood going through the bandages—ah?

When did he get bandaged?

“... It wasn't supposed to happen like this.” Kara muttered.

“Kara, right? Tony's new intern?” Rhodey was staring at her strangely, but he didn't even question her abilities. He just motioned at Kara's face, “I hate to say this this way, but I think you got a condition. Are your eyes supposed to be bright red?”

Kara didn't respond immediately, Tony could see she was taken back by the question. She didn't expect someone to point it out so blatantly. “Oh. Um. Yeah, my eyes get red when I get mad.”

“No, I get that. People see red or something, but your eyes are literally glowing in the dark,” Rhodey added.

“Oh! Oh. Yeah! It's so I could do this!” She turned around, spinning so fast she looked like a top. A pair of beams of red light shot from her eyes, as fast as beams of light went yet still visible like they were burned into Tony's vision like Star Wars blaster shots. Kara had shot almost consecutively so quickly that her laser eyes looked like one stream of fire and she'd sustained it for almost six seconds before stopping.

Tony saw that only the searchlights that were pointed at them—over a third of the lights here, the other thirds either in the outer perimeter or focused on the strung up War Machine powered armor Rhodey lost earlier that day. The President of the United States was trapped in that suit, Tony knew. He was also thankful none of them beams had at the President.

But what caused him to stop, not to marvel at what had happened but to feel a new thread of fear emerge in his heart, was the many cooling bodies that fell from the parapets and railings above them. Literally cooling... they were all bodies of former soldiers pumped with Extremis, and that formula was working overtime to fix their bodies, but... Kara had used her eyes to slice and dice them into so many pieces they had already lost their lives while the Extremis kept working.

There was a moment's silence.

Then Rhodey turned to Tony.

“Tony, have you been holding back on me? Because Killian can breath fire and your intern can shoot laser eyes.” Rhodey watched him, almost as if he were tired of this shit but didn't have the will to voice it. As an afterthought, and with an almost whiny undertone, he added, “I want laser eyes.”

“You know,” Tony started to say slowly, turning back to the still struggling pieces of Extremis fueled bodies below that were burning holes through solid industrial railings and concrete flooring. “Those guys might explode—”

Another blink.

Another blur.

Kara radiated smugness as she gave him a vulpine grin. Tony sighed. “Of course, you got it covered. Now let me do the rest.”

All of his suits, all twenty or so of them flew out from the darkness of the night, swooping down like avenging angels. They were all shapes and sizes, some made for heavy lifting, some made for enduring volcanic temperatures, some that were light and some that could tank almost anything... just about every variation that he thought of and made into reality in the short time after the Battle of New York.

“Tony...”

“Yeah, Rhodey, I held back on you. Just a little.”

“A little, my ass.”

 

“One puuunch!” The idiot girl flew at Aldrich Killian, yelling—almost as if she were singing for ACDC— and with her fist raised.

Killian planted his feet firmly down and positioned his body so that he could leverage the swing of his body so that he could flip Stark's stupid intern on her ass. Well, he wasn't going to be so crass about it, but ever since she started showing powers never seen before in this world, everything was falling apart... literally, he wasn't sure how long the shipyard was going to hold together with all the lasers melting entire steel beams when she unleashed a torrent of that kind of power.

Bracing himself turned out to be the wrong thing to do. Her fist pushed into the left side of his chest like a fork pushing down on a piece of delicious cake and then right through him. That entire shoulder blade, arm and all, flew into the air as it was torn off by the force of the girl's blow. His body was pulled up by the bones and sinew in the middle of being torn and he spun three times midair before making a Killian shaped hole into a nearby shipping container... on the other side of the shipyard.

Before he fell through and as half of his body crackled with fires with nothing holding them in, he saw his arm had flown into the ocean in the distance, but not before bouncing on the surface of the water a dozen times like some kind of skipping stone.

“Oops,” the girl murmured, her voice nearly drowned out by the groaning of steel and combusting heat around them. “T-That wasn't supposed to happen like that. Oh, god, I think I threw up a little in my mouth.”

… It... it was just not fair.

Killian staggered up. Even if his wasn't on fire as his entire body's nerves burned themselves out while the Extremis tried to make him a new arm, he could not cry. He'd cried too much, alone, in the desolate wastes of society, to cry now. He'd cried when he realized no one was going to help him help the world out of the kindness of their hearts, back when Tony Stark left him alone on that roof...

Fucking Tony Stark.

It wasn't fair.

Tony Stark was born with intellect beyond mortal understanding—Killian knew Stark was the only one who could fix Extremis. Stark inherited all the resources, fame, and reputation he ever wanted before he could even talk. He had everything, and now he even had some kind of alien bodyguard?

Killian roared in rage, knowing that his opponent wouldn't give him any mercy. The world never lent him any mercy. He had to scrape for every bit and piece of what he had now, and he wasn't about to give it up just because of overwhelming opposition! He had to try, he had to do something, anything! Rage mixed with frustration, and despite himself, streaks of molten fire rolled down his cheeks like burning lava. “NO! I will not give up! I have come too far, I have worked too long, to give it up... to anyone! Not you, not Stark, no one!”

He staggered out of the twisted mess of metal beneath his feet, already melting around him. Hot blood burned through his veins, and he felt he couldn't even keep his mind on his plans.

Was this what people said about intricate plans? Something about them never surviving contact with opposition?

Killian found himself laughing and crying at the stupid line he couldn't even remember now. Was this what broke him? Not the years of torturous labor beneath his political masters? Not all the near-death experiences between combat situations and lethal experiments gone wrong? He felt like this was the time his life should have been flashing before his eyes. No? Nothing? Fine. He smirked and scratched his side as he pushed away the steel shell of some wasted shipping container. That was the side that was first burned by the first explosion caused by Extremis.

He still remembered the dawning horror that threatened to consume him the moment he stared into the ashes of the man who exploded... he was the first. Killian had nearly given up then... he was still weak back then. His convictions were weak back then. He didn't have the firm belief in himself and his cause as he did now.

Seeing the girl flutter down to him delicately in some kind of elegant, superhero's pose, Killian's lips parted and he roared again. The hot blood within poured out like a breath of dragon fire, engulfing the girl.

For a moment, Killian had hoped that he'd next see the charred corpse of the girl—tragic, but expected.

Right?

Ha!

Life wasn't so easy.

It never was when it counted, and Killian killed that blossoming hope in his heart the moment he saw the girl shake her head, like some kind of dog that just crawled out of a pool.

Her Stark Industries sweater had burned off, revealing some kind of almost skin-tight blue mesh that covered her like a one-piece swim suit. Idly, Killian wondered what the material was, because AIM had a hard time replacing clothing since while some things could be flame resistant, nothing could quite resist the heat of Extremis and still fit comfortably.

Then she turned to him, her teeth gleaming in the darkness like the maw of a shark. “Ah, fire breath. Neat. I wish I had that... all I have is ice breath.” She breathed at him.

He blinked and then realized he couldn't move his feet. It took another moment for him to feel the cold... the nerves in his legs have long since deadened—he'd resorted to experimenting on himself with a lack of personnel and volunteers back then, and the failures had taken a toll on his body that way. Killian stared down at his feet, not quite surprised by the curve ball he'd been thrown, but still feeling a mixture of shock and irritation.

“Ice breath.”

His legs couldn't even twitch. The ice was harder than some of the metals he was used to breaking with his fists, but perhaps this was more due to the lack of leverage he had. Nothing below the belt could move. The layer of ice was over almost a foot thick all around him.

“Ice breath.”

Now his torso was encased in the same way. He had not finished healing from her tearing his arm off, and that part of him nearly blinded him in the pain that reverberated through him. His spine felt like it was being torn apart, and the shock made him gasp.

“Ice—”

“Stop! Stop. Stop...” Killian gasped. “FUCK!”

“Uh.”

He stared into her eyes. “Why? Why are you working for Tony Stark?”

She tilted her head, as if she didn't hear him correctly. “Isn't it a little late for pre-battle banter? I thought that happened before the fight.”

“This... ngh...” He struggled, but he couldn't even twist his shoulders out of the ice. There was something supernaturally powerful about it that kept Extremis from even heating up. It felt like a thousand little needles pricking into his bones, ripping apart his muscles, and biting into his skin all at once. It was almost overwhelming. “This isn't banter, girl. Kara, right? Why? WHY?”

The blonde girl scratched the back of her head. “Eh. He's Tony Stark, you know? Like, I'm not saying that great for a resume, but it's good for a resume, you know?”

She might have been joking, Killian knew. But he took her word for it. What did she have to lose lying to him now? He was utterly vulnerable and at her mercy. He wanted to yell at the sky at the frustration he was feeling. But he was tired. Maybe he'd overdrawn his energy, but all he could do was sigh.

“So...” She strutted towards him, so confident in her victory. Or perhaps she thought he was harmless. To her, she might have been right. “You're not gonna struggle?”

“I don't stand a chance, do I?” He peered back up at her unnaturally bright eyes. There were specks of green and gold in her blue eyes. That was such a strange combination, almost alien, but not quite, in their configuration. “I couldn't scratch you if I worked a little harder, could I?”

“Nope,” she answered immediately, with such brutality.

Killian blinked at the honesty. That was what he liked about Tony Stark, actually. He told it like it was... none of this backstabbing and hiding a dagger behind a smile shit that so many other people in places of power and positions controlling resources would do. If only Tony Stark had agreed to work with him... Killian looked back up, at the girl who was now circling him curiously. She was watching him like a child would look at an ant through a magnifying glass... now he could see the strangeness in her gaze, like she didn't understand what it meant to struggle with life.

“Why?” She had asked.

Killian smiled bitterly. He knew her question, it was one that everyone who met him asked. Sometimes, even he asked it of himself. He almost asked her what she meant, just to deny this alien goddess of a little satisfaction. To show her she couldn't have it all. To spit in the face of god. To slap Stark.

… But that wasn't him, not now. The fight had left him. He could still slug it out with Tony Stark, he felt they both had equal chances of coming out on top. But with this girl, this alien, this Kara?

Killian was a smart man. He prided himself on that above all things. He knew when he was utterly outclassed.

So he just sighed bitterly. “I had started with something... pure. I wanted to help people like myself.”

“Like yourself?” She frowned, not quite believing him.

He wouldn't believe himself either. His arms weren't frozen, so he raised them, wincing at the pain coursing through his veins as he did so, and stared into his palms. “I was... not always like this. Extremis fixed me, Miss Live Streamer. There was a time when I couldn't even stand straight, not without crutches. I was a cripple. Aaah... it felt good to finally say it.”

She glared up at him. “Good? Why?”

He almost laughed, but his chest was pressed down forcefully by steel-like ice. It hurt to laugh. Still, Killian huffed, “I didn't... I wasn't that desperate back then. I was... naive. I didn't like the cards I was dealt, I didn't believe in fate. I wanted to fight against the world for a better life. I didn't accept that I was disabled... a case beyond hope.”

“Really? But you fixed it, didn't you?” She was close, and he saw it—she still had her phone strapped to her belt. How? How did it not get melted by his breath? “You're not beyond hope.”

“Doctors gave up on me. I had to create something new to fix myself... there were no cures for me back then. I had to kill, I had to steal... I did horrible things, Kara. I deserve to be locked away. So, take me in, or whatever you Avengers do,” He raised his hands, as if offering to be cuffed. It was almost adorable to see how she recoiled from him the moment he did so. “Go on, do it.”

“I... I think I can understand you.” She took a step back. And then another. “If... if someone had cancer, and this was... if they could cure it. If they didn't have to die in a month. If... no, um. No. I'm not an Avenger, like, I'm at most an Avenger-in-training. Well, I'm just Mister Stark's intern. How did the... hold on, I'll go ask Mister Stark what to do with you.”

Almost like she didn't expect him to live through the night. Ah, that too reminded him of the old days. Still, he was standing there, like an ice sculptor, almost literally freezing his balls off. Stark was going to laugh at him when he saw, wasn't he?

“For fuck's sake, at least unfreeze me or something!”

 

“Oh, Steve, you're here!” Kara jumped out of her seat and rushed over to wrap her arms around him. Her eyes were alight with something Steve didn't really understand, but when had he ever understood women?

Gently, Steve put his hand on the younger girl's head, as if to pet her. Honestly, he was old enough to be her father or her great grandfather, depending on how he looked at it!

She kept trying to run dangerously close into his personal space.

Steve found himself pushing against the girl's head, using his leverage and his longer reach to keep her from getting her hands on him. He almost shuddered, when had gals grown so strong? Had they always been this strong? He'd never truly been physical with Peggy and when he'd been close, it was always her who was in control and guiding him. What was he supposed to do?

After a moment of futile effort, Kara sighed and stopped trying to tackle him—finally—and glanced over her shoulder. “Stan is already here, and have you met Aldrich? He's joining us for the campaign.”

Steve took his time to survey all that he could see.

There was so much visual information in this little shop that he felt overwhelmed. It never really occurred to him how much popular culture he head to catch up on until that moment, seeing the rows upon rows of comic books lined up in the back. There were aisles of board games and entire shelves lined with what looked like trading cards... but why were there so many cards? If they were playing cards, weren't they all just variations of the same 52 cards? Even back when the War had been going on, Steve never really understood why people collected the cards... well, he could understand it a little. Some of those were the collectibles with his heroes printed on them. It was similar to how the SHIELD agent, Phil Coulson, felt about him in a way, probably.

But were there this many important people to memorize? He'd only been gone for a couple decades, what happened to the world while he was gone?

Who even bought these little pieces of cardboard and ink?

There were also many tables lined up in the middle of the shop, as if it were some kind of exhibition hall. However, most of the people who were there were rather on the portly side and seemed to lack in terms of personal hygiene, if the stinging sensation in his nose was anything to go by. They were dressed in colorful shirts with prints of what was probably famous cartoon characters—one even had a shirt with Steve's shield printed on it.

And that made him uncomfortably aware of who he was. His face felt naked without a mask to keep his identity hidden, and he felt like he was back in the war, before going into the simple battlefields. His mind flashed back to the horrors of the complicated times when he tangled with politicians and newsmen, as a mascot for war bonds and a face for the comic books. It made a wave of horror run down his spine for just a second, but he got over it.

After all, what if this rotund man wearing his shield on a shirt that couldn't hid his navel was similar to Agent Coulson? What if he would one day lay down his life for a cause?

In the end, it didn't matter what they looked like, Steve knew. He felt a warm sensation in his chest. It was the feeling of accomplishment; Steve was just... happy... that he had inspired someone to believe in a cause. That made tangling with any politician worth it, he reasoned to himself.

Yeah. The game shop didn't feel so overwhelming.

“Hi, I'm Steve Rogers,” he said and reached out.

The rather muscular young man shook his hand. He had a firm grip, though it felt rather hot for some reason. Perhaps it was because of how the game store had rather bed ventilation and no air conditioning. This young man wore a set of thick, coke-bottle glasses and seemed hunched over, but he had a nice, if slightly sharp, smile. “Hi Steve. I'm Aldrich. You can call me Al, if you'd like.”

“Okay Al, call me Steve. Hello, Mister Lee,” Steve nodded towards the elderly man with the white hair and thick rimmed sunglasses. He turned back to the girl who was bouncing on the balls of her feet, “Kara. What are we doing today?”

“Oh, Steve! We're playing Capes and Champions, it's basically a superhero Dungeons and Dragons, but you know, relevant, because we have actual superheroes around now,” Kara replied.

“... I understood the individual words you said, Kara.” Steve said slowly as he took a seat beside her. They were at a little square table, with many little tabletop game pieces placed one some kind of map, while Mister Lee was partly hidden behind a cardboard veil with the stylized logo of Dungeons and Dragons printed on it, with some kind of African-American elf (he could tell from the pointy ears) wielding two scimitars standing in an awkward pose under it. In truth, it was beautifully painted, and Steve knew there must have been many hours dedicated to the work, so he took a moment to admire how life-like the elf's expression was. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the conversation, “but Kara, I didn't understand the sentence you strung them together into.”

“Hey, you're getting humor now, good job, Steve.” Kara patted his shoulder genuinely.

The other two men around the table also voiced their congratulations, albeit in a lackadaisical manner, causing Steve's cheeks to feel hot. “Shucks.”

Kara made an unladylike noise. “I can't believe you said that.”

“I got caught up in the moment,” Steve replied quickly. After a moment, he remembered too late that this was a perfect moment to roll his eyes at her. It was an opportunity lost, but he would get it next time.

“Can we start already?” Al half-whined without looking up from a stack of paper he was making little notes on.

“Alright, alright,” Mister Lee raised his hands in a placating way. “Steve, this is your first with anything remotely similar to Dungeons and Dragons, and Kara, this is your first time with Capes and Champions, so I'll give you a summary. C&C is basically D&D but set in the modern world and with superheroes. The setting actually has some movies made from it, and the collection of flicks is called the Detective Comics Entertainment Universe. Or DCEU if you don't have all the time in the world to write it out.”

“DCEU?” Kara suddenly interrupted before frowning. “Well, it does sound better than DCCU. It also looks better too, I mean, two C's in a row? Yuck.”

“Hm?” Al suddenly looked up from his papers. They were labeled 'Character Sheet', and there seemed to be twenty or so pages of what was labeled 'Backstory'. Al seemed to have a sort of rebellious, cocky look about him when he talked about this DCEU, which fit his next words. “Two C's in a row describes any combination of DCEU films ever.”

“Oh snap,” Kara whispered beside Steve, as if in awe at Al's insight. “Gonna need some ice for that burn.”

Steve wisely wrote down in his little notepad the quality of DCEU films.

“I mean, we got real superheroes now,” Al added, as if to justify himself to Kara. “The Avengers. We even had an alien invasion. How neat is that?”

“Yeah,” Kara's voice grew dreamy, as she often did when talking about the Avengers. “That Thor is something else.”

Al scoffed. “Thor? The best Avenger is obviously Iron Man. He has that great, plump... intellect.”

“Have you seen Thor's hair? Have you seen it?” Kara grasped Al's shoulders and shook him. Her eyes took on an almost fanatic glint. “It's so... perfect. And he probably doesn't even use any product! Can you imagine? You can't even get that kind of hair even after purifying yourself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka!”

Al didn't give up. In fact, he seemed more into the conversation than he was before, a surprise to be sure but a welcome one. “Thor doesn't even pay taxes. He's not even American! Iron Man's got that wealth, he could do far more good than Thor could on Earth.”

“Oh my god,” Kara clutched her head as if she were in pain. “Don't start with your Ayn Rand stuff again.”

“Now hold on guys,” Steve spoke out, making a mental note to look up what an Ayn Rand was. “Captain America is alright too, right?”

Both of them looked at Steve as if he were Kara's mentally deficient puppies.

“Steve,” Al sighed. “That's adorable.”

Kara patted his shoulder. It never felt as patronizing as it did now. “You're such an old timer guy. What's next? Gonna tell some young punks to get off your lawn?”

“... If I had a lawn,” Steve made to reply.

Then Stan interrupted him. “Alright, that's enough bullying Steve for acting like he's older than me for one day everyone. I'll be your game master for this campaign and we can start by helping Steve make his character.”

“Question!” Kara raised her hand straight into the air. “Can I make a new character?”

“No.”

“But...”

Mister Lee said immediately. “You're just going to have to deal with being a character with below average stats in everything.”

Kara pouted.

“Um.” Steve also raised his hand, like Kara did earlier.

“What is it, Steve? This isn't a classroom, you don't need to raise your hands like that.” Mister Lee looked up at him.

Steve nodded. “What's... okay, one question at a time. What's a game master?”

“The game master,” Mister Lee explained carefully, as if talking slowly to a child, “is me, the person who made the setting, or at least, I put it together. Well, sometimes I borrow settings, but look, that doesn't matter. I'm the, well, the one guy above all other guys, able to do anything and see anything... your narrator for your story. And when I say your story, I mean the story of the character you'll make.”

“I think I understand now,” Steve pieced it together. It was called a role-playing game because he was taking on the role of a character, like an actor. Well, he could act. When he first started as Captain America, he was acting... he didn't know what he was supposed to do. It only came naturally after he went behind enemy lines. “So we're a bunch of different characters, we tell you what we do and what we say, and you tell us what happens.”

“Precisely,” Mister Lee nodded again. “Now, we're starting in a city called Metropolis. It's a city like New York, but it's not New York, because superheroes in New York is just too silly.”

“Stan, we literally just had an alien invasion in New York with superheroes fighting them off, are you going senile?” Kara remarked.

“Hogwash,” Stan harrumphed. “And that's not the point anyway. Are you ready to get to know the setting and make your first character, Steve?”

Steve wasn't sure he was ready, actually.

 

Notes: Not satisfied with this chapter, but I guess there's nothing I can do... sigh... help me, please?

---​

“Son of Coul!” Thor boomed as he barged into Phil Coulson's office.

Phil looked up from his computer terminal and sighed, “Hello Thor. How are you doing?”

“No time for pleasantries, Son of Coul,” Thor did a great impression of Brian Blessed. He slammed his palms down on Phil's desk, causing the floor to shake. “I come on urgent business for the All Father. 'Tis a matter that concerns the dangers to all the Nine Worlds and beyond, for I must seek to repair the Bifrost, which has shattered in Loki's betrayal!”

Phil blinked. If he were a more impatient man, he would have reached up to massage the bridge of his nose. This was a confounding case if there ever was one, but it was only so troublesome because of the confirmed non-violent nature of things and how it tangled the different members of the Avengers initiative.

He logged out of his terminal calmly as Thor seemed to breath a sort of old mead-infused breath down his forehead, before turning back to the Asgardian. “Alright, Thor. Is this about the girl?”

“She is the only clue to the core of the Tesseract, yes. I must acquire it if Asgard is to keep peace across the dominions of Yggdrasil, Son of Coul. Billions of lives depend on it.” Thor intoned, his words empowered by the weight of the situation.

It was a little above his jurisdiction, if Phil were honest with himself.

He didn't even deal in things that mattered on the scale of millions of lives, let alone billions. It was a daunting number, and he thought he was up for it, but it still caused him to pause. He couldn't picture the kind of scale this was. Even the New York Incident was just that, an incident that took part in a part of one single city.

Billions?

Phil stood and stared into Thor's eyes. “Alright. I did a little searching after our last meeting, and then she showed up in a way that SHIELD couldn't cover up. Kara Zorelle. Does the name ring any bells, Thor?”

“No,” Thor frowned. “Why do you ask, Phil?”

“I... thought she was one of yours. A rogue Asgardian, maybe?” Phil studied Thor's facial features closely as he said this. His words slowed as a dawning sense of dread engulfed his heart. “No?”

Thor shook his head, his beautiful locks swaying in the air conditioned air of the room like threads of gold. “No, I have never met a creature as her, Son of Coul. Like her, perhaps. She may be a Titan or another unknown Celestial... but no Asgardian may perform her feats without aide.”

Coulson motioned for Thor to come around to the back of his desk before taking a seat again. “Look, this is what I got on her.” He turned the computer back on and flipped it to the recent mess that this strange girl made.

She had went on social media, streaming video live in a way that couldn't be blocked, and showed herself moving faster than the human eye could follow, as well as what was arbitrarily labeled as some sort of 'freeze breath' that induced a state that was as close to absolute zero as physically possible. And she seemed to be immune to temperatures over 3000 degrees. Her abilities were baffling, and the closest thing that could approach her abilities were Asgardians.

If it weren't them, then who was she?

Phil played the video as the towering blonde alien watched over his shoulder. “You can't tell me what she is?”

“No...” Thor's brow furrowed. He seemed like he was telling the truth, and he had no reason not to, but after the Tesseract debacle, Phil felt a little doubtful that the Asgard would reveal everything to him. Thor asked, after the video ended, “What else do you have of her?

Phil shrugged. “Just her name, and that she works for Stark now, apparently.”

That was hard to believe. He even watched a surveillance video of her slipping and tripping, with a cup of coffee landing on her head, but Phil still felt like he was watching someone else.

“Stark?” Thor blinked down at Phil incredulously. “Really? Then we must leave at once! We can make it a date!”

“Hold on there,” Phil grabbed Thor's wrist. He was surprised he was actually capable of holding Thor in place, but he guessed it might actually be because Thor had learned a new level of patience with humans after the New York Incident. Phil also remembered how smashed the Avengers were the day after Thor dragged them through Tony Stark's liquor cabinet (why else were they all wearing sunglasses the day after?) and it wasn't a situation that he wanted to be a part of.

“What is it, Son of Coul?” Thor asked. “Did something happen to Stark? Or, Odin forbid, his alcohol?!”

“What? No,” Coulson shook his head. “When I last put in the proper paperwork to look for Kara, before she put her face on practically every social media network, it was flagged and denied. But if you want to go through Earth looking for someone, I think it would be best if we had someone accompanying you.”

“Do you seek to command a son of Odin, Phil?”

“Ah, no. It's a request.”

“Ah.” Thor blinked. “Well, it is a reasonable one. If you cannot accompany me, yet you wish to, then how would you go about doing this? Your culture is so confusing.”

Phil smiled. He hoped he'd get that line more often in the future, when more aliens visited. By then he'd have a bunch of awesome one-liners ready. “Well, I can put in another request.”

“Then why don't you do so?” Thor asked.

“I just did.” Phil turned back to his terminal. It beeped. He had a new message.

It was a message.

Come see me.

“Well,” Phil smiled tightly back at Thor.

“Well?” Thor arched an eyebrow.

“It has been a while since you've met Director Fury, hasn't it?” Phil remarked rhetorically. He stood and grabbed his jacket. “The Director will either give me permission to go with you or tell us we can't.”

“And what do we do if he does not allow you to go with me?” Thor sounded more troubled now.

Phil turned back to Thor.

The alien prince seemed so sure of himself, yet so confused at the same time.

“I can't go with you to look for Kara,” Phil shrugged. “But there's nothing wrong with guiding you to Stark.”

The elevator up to the Director's office was a silent one. It wasn't uncomfortable, Phil thought. He had a lot on his mind, so he wasn't exactly paying one hundred percent attention to begin with, but he noticed Thor humming along with the elevator music. It was the same elevator music they had at the headquarters for the last nine months now. If everything stayed the same, it would be another three months before anyone though to change it.

At SHIELD, everything worked according to protocol. Everyone had to trust that, if nothing else. There was dedicating your life to the mission, but you had to trust your superiors too... more than how you might trust your superiors in the army. This was espionage after all.

And with protocol, changing anything required paperwork... paperwork... and more paperwork. Changing the elevator music required all the department managers to pass. After all, with the kind of things they were dealing with, something insidious could be hidden in sound, or any other of a thousand different threats.

Changing elevator music wasn't easy.

And when Phil Coulson walked into the Director's office, he noticed enough to realize that this wasn't going to be a normal meeting. Fury was turning on every gadget and gizmo to keep anything from listening in. Even standing an inch away from Coulson would have reduced any sound they made to barely a whisper. Nothing was going in, and nothing was coming out.

Fury stared down at them with one eye without making a sound. He was frowning, as he always was, but the way he steepled his fingers and the way his cracked lips curled downwards did not make a good impression.

Phil waited for Thor to pull up a seat first before sitting down himself. “Sir.”

“Thor. Coulson.” Fury nodded before closing his eyes. “You're digging into something above your clearance level, Phil. Thor, you need her, do you.”

It should have been a question, but none of these were questions. Phil knew Fury knew already.

A lot of this flew over Thor's head. But he kept to his seat, despite his legs twitching as he almost was unable to resist the urge to stand and demand. Thankfully, he'd learned since his last visit to Earth. “Yes, I require the location of the Tesseract's core. Without it to repair the Bifrost, reconstruction efforts are slow, and we risk the lives of many across the Nine Worlds.”

Fury sighed. He seemed so... tired. This was a side Phil didn't want to see of the Director, certainly not in front of outsiders like Thor. “... Do you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?”

“... Sir?”

The room was unreasonably tense, filled with confusion.

Fury turned away from them, looking out his window, or rather looking out between the individual slits of the blinds on his window. He grumbled again, looking down at his hands.

“What is this riddle, Son of Coul? Is this a test?” Thor stage-whispered to Phil. As an afterthought, he added, “I do not do well with such tests of wit... it has always been more my brother's area of interest.”

Phil knew what the 'riddle' was. He knew it was a line from Pulp Fiction. He just couldn't understand why the Director said it to him in this moment, with so much in the balance. He'd never been to these nine worlds, but if even one world was like Earth, and relied on Thor to protect it, then what hung in the balance was too great for them to just... waste time like this.

But what had stumped him wasn't this. He knew it was a quote... but it didn't sound like the Director was quoting the movie at all. It was like he was quoting someone else...?

“No, if this was a test, it'd be a stupid test.” Fury turned back to Phil, interrupting his thought. His dark visage slipped back to the grim frown that he always wore. “I know you wanted to investigate her before, Agent Coulson.”

“Sir...”

“What makes you think we haven't already investigated her?” Fury asked. He leaned closer, his shadow looming over them, even though he was shorter than Thor. “I know more about her than she knows about herself. But that's no one's business but my own.”

“Does she have the Tesseract?” Thor growled, finally having had enough.

Fury spared him a glance. “Perhaps.”

“Then I must have it. It is Asgard's.” Thor demanded. “Bring me to her so that I might take it from her!”

“Ha! Really? Just you?” Fury actually started laughing. He laughed as Thor's face seemed to grow red. He covered his eye for a moment before sighing, as if he had just heard the greatest joke. “No offense, Thor, but you ain't enough. Maybe she'll help you. Maybe. But knowing her capabilities... do you know how fast she can run, Thor?”

Thor fell back onto his seat from the dark intensity of Fury's voice. All the rage that gathered like a storm cloud in his eyes dissipated like it's been blown away.

Fury continued as if he was speaking with the same breath. “She can run fast enough that she runs back through time. She can punch a planet in half. There's a reason why no one is allowed to touch her. Now, everyone knows about her, but they don't see how much she is holding back. A lot of her file will be declassified to some degree sooner or later with her just blatantly showing everyone everything she has. Thor, if the two of you fight, the wreckage will be worse than what you did to New York. If she doesn't utterly destroy you first.”

“T'was not I who—”

“Don't fight her.” Fury glared.

Thor's lips clamped closed.

Then Fury smiled, less to Thor and more to Phil. “But if you want to go to her, to ask her to help you, I believe she's making Mister Stark's coffee just about now. I'm sure if you wanted to ”

Thor stared down at him in surprise. “But...”

“Go.”

As they climbed onto the quin-jet, Thor turned to Phil and asked, “Why do Stark and Rogers act as if you were dead, Phil?”

“Well,” Phil shrugged. “I did die. I just got better.”

“Oh.” Thor nodded. “That makes sense.”

Did it though? Phil wondered. There were just too many mysteries in this world for him not to be overwhelmed. Too bad it wasn't as simple and easy as the X-Files or something. That would be nice, he mused. Yeah... and he should look into how exactly he was brought back if nothing else but to get his mind off of this... Kara Zorelle mess.

 

Notes: I'm not sure about this chapter either. It's kind of touching on new ground while trending old ground. Maybe I shouldn't make it this way, but, well... IDK, guys.

---​

The winds of fate shifted and swelled that night. Something had changed, and all of Kamar-Taj was restless... unable to sleep, unable to sit still, like if a new energy flowed through them. They were not patient for an answer.

Too eager by far, like children who ate too much sugar.

Was the world awakening into a new era, they asked? When they looked closely at the strings of fate, one more layer seemed to have been added to those who lent them aide from beyond this world. Who was it? What caused this? Something had changed, yet they couldn't tell what.

It was hard to tell, but they knew that their fates were irrevocably altered.

In the morning, they thought they had an answer.

The news had been plastered all over the media... on every form of media. It seemed like Tony Stark being the mysterious “Iron Man” was all that was on anyone's lips. Part of it was understandable—the man had made himself a suit of modern armor that might as well have been magic. Something in his chest had shone with a light emulated a greater power, as if he was trying to tap into a source of enigmatic energy similar to the Masters of the Mystic Arts.

But he did it purely through physical labors where as they must channel and hone their powers of mysticism.

Some of them were baffled... nothing quite like this had happened before to their knowledge. Yes, they forged and they labored, but Tony Stark was as far from faithful and learned as he could possibly be. He was a drunkard, an egotistical inheritor of wealth drowned in debauchery, the very opposite of what they were.

Some of them did not believe he was like them. Others sought to give him a chance. He seemed to have the right intent and he did have a change of heart in the desert. Perhaps he was to be like them, only different. Perhaps they could one day find an ally in those like Tony Stark.

They mired themselves in this discussion, thinking it had to have been Tony Stark. It wasn't really the armor, albeit it was fancy and far beyond what anyone else in the world had created up until then through common understanding of physical forces alone. They thought they were right the moment they started arguing about what Stark was—they thought they knew that the change was caused by Stark. He wore on his chest and practically in his heart a replica of something from legend.

His detractors argued he stumbled upon it by blind luck. His supporters argued that he was divinely inspired, much like the founder of their order, the revered Agamotto.

Such pride.

But the Ancient One was patient.

She knew all things would be revealed in time.

She had lived too long and seen too much to think otherwise, but she did not trust that Mister Stark was the source of the disturbance. He was an agent who changed the world for the better now—an agent of good and a protector of the world... that she was assured in. But could one man, albeit some kind of billionaire playboy genius philanthropist, so much?

Unlike her students, she knew of the elder Stark who touched the face of divinity as well... Tony's work was merely derived from the foundations left by his father.

When Howard Stark changed from merely a genius capitalist to a man on a mission, his actions sent ripples across the weave of fate as well. With each step, he made the future a little brighter. Yet he was a flawed, vulnerable man, prone to mistakes and ego. For all his genius, for all his contributions, Howard Stark had not caused such a shockwave that could be noticed by novices. No... whoever or whatever this new entity might be could only be something greater.

She wondered for days, had a Celestial stepped foot onto Earth again? The last one who came had not come with the best intentions, slipping through the net as easily as if it had been left open. For all her power, she could only nudge the whims of destiny so that it might be taken by the human extremes of love. Perhaps she tried too hard to intoxicate it, for it reacted... badly.

After destroying the woman it loved, it left Earth, just like that.

She felt the weight of the woman's death on her conscience even now. It was her burden to bear... it was her mistake, once more. The Ancient One could only make pitiful excuses. “I was trying to strengthen the protections on Earth” sounded weak in her ears. “It must know a flaw in our defense” sounded silly.

If the Ancient One had been any less at peace with herself, she would have fallen into depression.

Nevertheless, she bore this secret for the Earth. There was no reason to trouble her students with this knowledge; it wouldn't have helped anyone. For all their enlightenment, they were too human. She saw this in her greatest student... too prone to emotions, to pride and hubris, too unwilling to engage in discourse. They were not many in number, and any schism would only weaken their already lacking defenses.

She sighed to herself then; these halls once was filled with wide-eyed students.

Perhaps that was why the Ancient One liked these silly Harry Potter books so much. She wished her own halls of learning were so filled... but alas, it is not a matter of being gifted. To join them was a matter of will. To join the Masters of the Mystic Arts means to join an order whose goal was to keep the world safe from harm. It was not a school for adolescents, despite how it might look sometimes or how she might entertain the thought on a rare blue moon.

The Ancient One reached out and sought the power, peeking out at it in a way that she had never taught her students. After all, to do so left her open to other influences seeking to be seen.

Somethings should never be seen, lest they invade the mind like a virus or open the doors of reality to things from... beyond.

Yet this power was innocent, as if it were a newborn. It was simple and gentle, so she, well, poked it.

The new power was alive and conscious, and it was warm and embracing, caring with a hint of bite. Touching it felt like walking on the surface of the sun. In her moment of wonder, she realized her error immediately. Interaction is never a one way street, because the moment she saw it... its baleful red eyes saw her.

… Such power.

Its mind thought of her, and she realized it knew her.

The Ancient One's heart raced faster than it had in a long, long time. She had been lax in her defenses, thinking the young Celestial-like creature a newborn... but it was not human, sometimes a second was all an outsider needed to grow into a threat. She scolded herself; despite knowing her students' flaws of presumption, she too made the same mistake.

And what frightened the Ancient One most, as she pulled back from the astral planes, was not how the eyes of the creature had such burning intensity that she could raze all of their defenses in a blazing instant. No... the entity of blinding suns knew the Masters of the Mystic Arts. It knew of Kamar-Taj. It knew her.

It thought of Kamar-Taj—it sought her. It wanted her, her knowledge, her powers. It wanted to devour all of that and make it its own. Its desires rippled across the astral plane as if it were simultaneously consumed with a singled minded craze yet it was also filled with conflicting, spiritual forces colliding at every conscious moment. It wanted, it needed, it would stop at nothing.

And it was coming now.

 

Notes: I was kind of unsure of what to do with the next few updates, but I was also under the weather and kind of having cramps and stuff so I didn't get into the mood to write for a while.

---​

“You let me in. You let me come in. Oh... Oh. Oh thank R—thank God.” A girl was sprawled on the wooden floor. The room was dim with only candle light. She wore some kind of atrociously tight blue bodysuit that scandalously covered only enough to seem like a one-piece swimming suit.

There were bags under her eyes, as if she had not slept for a day or more. There were little clumps of dirt and twigs and bugs and other things caught in her blonde hair, and she was covered in a layer of dried dirt from her thighs down to her bare feet. She did not, in fact, look good.

The Ancient One entered at the other side of the room. She was careful not to approach too closely or too quickly, like how someone might approach an injured bear.

She frowned upon hearing the girl's words. “No. I did not. You came in.”

“But... but...” The girl shivered, curling up with her arms wrapped so her hands clutched onto her shoulders tightly and her knees pressed against her chest. Her expressions were easy to read: confusion, conflict, and all of these tumultuous emotions written on her face as if she wrote what she was feeling on a wall. “Huh?”

Perhaps that was incorrect, the Ancient One mused. She could have tried to hold the door shut, but the girl had been circling the Earth for hours. She had approached at such speeds that, had the Ancient One not opened a path of least resistance, the city outside would have been nothing more than a smoking crater.

None of that raw physical power was shown in this girl, however. She was barefoot and stuttering, and shivering like a homeless waif. It was a mystery to the Supreme Sorceress how this was possible, but if the girl did not know her limits, then seemed prudent not to inform her of them. After all, an enemy who didn't know themselves had already lost half the battle, and a whatever the case, the Ancient One didn't think she could actually vanquish the girl if she were a foe.

Somethings, such as the Celestials, were beyond death.

She would not wish an immortal, indestructible enemy upon the Earth or herself; they had enough of those already.

As the Ancient One studied the girl, marveling at how human-like she was, the girl peered up at her and mirrored her action. Then she opened her lips and spoke in a voice that was softer and more stilted than her earlier tone. “You know, I really liked you in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.”

“... The book?” The Ancient One blinked and blurted out, taken back by the sudden change of topic.

“No,” the girl replied, as if she were saying something obvious. “The movies. You were quite good as the White Witch.”

The Ancient One turned away, knowing better than to ask what the girl meant. She'd had such students before, speaking nonsense and such nothings and acting as if they knew what they were doing. Some of them grew to be some of the most powerful sorcerers she'd ever met, if only because they were good at deceiving themselves. When she turned around, the girl had backed away from her into a corner of the room and was staring at her in half-curiosity and part-anxiety. She decided they should best get to the point, “Tell me, who are you, and why are you here?”

“Me? I... want... I want...” It sounded as if two girls were trying to speak into the same microphone, squeezing away the other whenever one got the chance to talk. But then the girl clutched her head, curling up again and groaning in pain.

The Ancient One approached her cautiously, almost as if she were tiptoeing.

After a groan that seemed to stretch into infinity, the girl got tired of it and laid onto her back. She let out a breath loudly, “I still can't believe I'm here.”

“Oh?” Her interest piqued, she asked, “then what can you believe? Kamar-Taj is quite real, I assure you, Miss...?”

“Super... uh, Karen S—no... Kara...” The girl's eyes briefly crossed. She held up a hand. “Give me a moment. Why don't you, um, introduce yourself instead?”

The sorceress raised a brow at that.

Few were so presumptuous before her. She could easily apply her experience with her students onto the girl again, but she thought better against it. After all, unlike her students, this... girl... was only a girl in appearance, wasn't she?

“You are in Kamar-Taj, and I am called the Ancient One, but for some reason, I believe you already know this...” She trailed off.

“Ha.” The girl coughed and floated off of the ground—and not with any magic the sorceress knew. “Yeah, I guess I can't get that past you. Hm... well, I guess you can call me Kara. You know, if I can almost believe this is real.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, if this was all a dream, I'd be in Hogwarts robes.”

The Ancient One almost sighed. She had better self-control than that, but it was close. “I can see you aren't here to fight, Kara. Perhaps you'd like to sit down instead and we can... talk.”

“Do I put you on edge? Why is that?” The girl's form blurred.

No, that wasn't right.

The Ancient One had blinked.

And in that one moment occupied by one blink, the girl had... not quite walked or ran or flown. She had simply moved from her corner in the room to right behind the Ancient One. She had begun to say something like, “Teleports behind you, nothing personal—eep!”

The Ancient One reacted on instinct. Golden, fiery chain-like ropes leaped from her palms and strung the girl into shaky, wooden chair in the center of the room.

Kara was tied tightly, though the strength she struggled with seemed strong enough to rip steel apart with her bare hands. “H-Hey! It was just a joke! It was a prank! Hey, it's really tight! I'm, I'm not into bondage, okay? I need an adult!”

The Sorceress Supreme gave the girl another thought as she ignored the girl's inane rambling. She would have to test her, since she couldn't test her endurance or dedication, nor could she leave her outside—such potential and already amassed power could do much harm without guidance. But she wasn't sure if the girl was... good enough. What if she had the Ancient One at her mercy? Would she attempt to extract answers, like some?

… Or would she try to get revenge like others might?

She held too much power, that was true, but she was also hidden in a shroud of it, like a cloak of stars, like... gems, really. It was hard to see her, truly see her, and there was just too much unknown...

So before the chains could actually break, the Ancient One allowed them to break.

Really, it was like that one classic comic that the Americans liked so much in their newspapers. The one about peanuts and a white and black dog acting like he was an ace pilot. Well, no, but that was the comic. What she was doing was more like how that girl Lucy moved the football away just before the silly child could kick it.

That was... an adequate representation, the Ancient One knew, for she allowed the girl's momentum to take her off her chair—shattering it into thousands of splinters of wood in the process—and carrying her forwards... towards the Ancient One.

Even if the girl had been able to react in time, it was too late.

She grunted as the pressure of the momentum crashed into her and pushed her off her feet. Then she allowed herself to collapse. It had not actually injured her, but now, she seemed to be at the girl's mercy and there were no moments to think...

It wasn't what the girl would do moments later that would matter, just what she did at that moment.

“Ohmygodohmygod! Oh shit, oh shit I killed the Ancient One!” Kara started waving her arms around like a headless chicken. “No, no, no, you gotta be okay, argh, why did you do that? No—ah.”

She'd paused and backed away.

Then she started pouting, “Hey, you can stop the act now! I can see you're okay! … Wait, are you okay?”

As the little girl helped her up, the Ancient One allowed herself a smile. Kara was so easy to understand, it was as if she were a naive girl who had no practice in hiding her emotions and thoughts. She could either be a newborn Celestial, or she could be something... stranger. “Did you expect mystics to charge in and dramatically misunderstand the situation and attack you?”

“... Well.” Kara shuffled from one foot to the other. Her eyes avoided the Ancient One's gaze. “... Yeah, I guess... I guess this world isn't like a TV show or a badly written comic or something...”

She took the younger girl's shoulders into her hands and pulled her so that their eyes looked into each other. “Kara.”

Kara gulped audibly. “Eep.”

“Kara,” the Ancient One pressed on. “Tell me. What are you doing here?”

“I, um... I...” Conflict seemed to brew in her eyes. “I want to learn your magic, but I mean, I want to go home, but home is like, um, I, look, where ever it is isn't in your multiverse, and um I want to learn magic?”

The Ancient One sighed. She could picture it already... though the situation was better than having a hostile alien invading Earth, having a girl too powerful not to take as a student become a student? It was going to be disaster, she just knew it... and a lot of destruction. This was just the first of a thousand more tests, because the Ancient One would help her one way or another... but... she'd best start investing in repair spells.

And she would have to deal with the sass. Oh, the sass. A teenage girl's sass...

The Ancient One sighed and deadpanned, “I noticed that from the Hogwarts comment, yes.”

 

Notes: A short one. Sorry, but tired.

---​

How do I reach this kid? The Ancient One did not approve of her idea. It was stupid, and it was like asking a normal person to swallow a piece of burning coal. If that piece of burning coal could explode and then destroy the Earth at the very minimum.

… and here laid her quandary: her student could swallow that lump of coal and spit out a shining diamond.

Something in her invulnerability had caused her to... well, seem almost suicidal to the average bystander. Of course, the Mystics knew better, but it didn't stop them from worrying about her. Over the years she stayed here, she'd become one of them. They saw her as family... albeit the bratty, little sister of the family who no one took seriously, but she was still a part of their order.

That alone had validated the Ancient One's leniency on the girl. It validated her hope... hope in the future of her sorcerers, in future allies and friends, and mostly just the future itself, after the Ancient One was gone.

She'd known her time was coming soon. She had been preparing for it.

Having lived so long, the Ancient One sometimes visited hospitals, if nothing but to just see how others prepared for their deaths. It was a... guilty pleasure of hers, thought not quite a pleasure. It was a necessity, really. It was like her duty perhaps.

The Ancient One did not have the same fears as most elderly did. There was no reason for her to fear many of the deepest questions that stood on the forefront of many people's minds as they stood on death's doorstep. You couldn't fear the uncertainty of death if you knew what laid in the there after. You couldn't fear if you had a soul if you could leave the body and take on the form of only your soul at will. And when you knew of the greater powers that hid in dimensions beyond understanding by a first basis, there were no perplexities there either.

Many of life's most meaningful questions felt meaningless, because they had no complex answers to her. They were just questions to which she had answers.

So she didn't fear her passing in the way that many others did... yet sometimes, she met extraordinary souls that she wished to emulate.

There were many people who didn't care about the dark oblivion.

It wasn't that they didn't fear them. They did.

But it wasn't a priority to them. In a way, this was their way of making peace with their death. They saw her coming, and they knew her presence so well that they could almost hear her whispering into their ears. So they didn't care about what happened to them and instead, they tried to care about something greater... perhaps the Earth, perhaps their families, perhaps a legacy or something... that didn't matter what it was. It was a vision for the future to be brighter in their passing than when they came into the world.

She wasn't always like this; she was once conniving and scheming and rebellious... she couldn't blame her student for being the same, not really. She had came around eventually, knowing there were more at stake and focusing on a greater good. But that was later. Just like the many students that followed, she has had her lapses...

… Well. Mordo would have been a good master to future sorcerers, but she couldn't trust him with the future. He was... a good teacher, but he has never truly gotten over his past traumas. They would eventually rear their heads at the most inopportune time, if he wasn't careful.

This girl however?

“Sup, sensei?”

“Come in, wipe your feet off first, and do do something about that grin on your face, will you?” The Ancient One suppressed an urge to massage her temples and her forehead at the headache the girl was going to be. “It is atrocious.”

Kara immediately lost the vulpine grin, but she never shed that smugness. Instead, she wore it like a cloak and it infused the room with a vibe that caused the Ancient One to reach up and slap the silly girl upside the head.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Oh, you know that hurt my hand more than your thick head, Kara. Do you want some tea?” The Ancient One said without missing a beat.

The alien girl crossed her legs and floated over, her eyes bright and joyful. “Yes, please, shifu!”

“Again, with the ridiculous titles...” She sighed.

“Like the Ancient One is any better?” Kara rolled her eyes.

Tea was served, and like always, the other mystics avoided Kara. It wasn't that they didn't like her... it was just that things tend to explode around her. Or catch on fire. Or flash freeze. Or get struck by lightning. Or any number of things.

And that was the way the Ancient One liked it, because the topic was rather sensitive. “So, did you succeed then?”

“Yep!” Kara patted her tight abdomen. “They're too busy fighting each other now for anyone to use them, for anything but... well, small things. Can't really use them remotely either, I'd reckon.”

“... You'd reckon,” the Ancient One deadpanned.

Kara held up her hands, admitting defeat. “Yeah, can't be sure. I mean, it's not like anyone else has made a spell to deal with multiples of these rocks before either, right? You can only jam them all in and hope they all get stuck at the door while they're trying to shove each other out of the way...”

The Ancient One stared at the girl. How could any idea reach her when multiple Infinity Stones couldn't even give her a stomach ache? “That is not... reassuring, Kara. There were a few of us who thought you would have been reduced into fine, red mist. I am glad that was not the case.”

“Gee.” Kara smirked. “Thanks.”

“Don't get to hasty,” she added. “This was just the first step of your plan.”

Kara stared for a moment longer, her eyes shining with the light of the Infinity Stones inside her, like twin kaleidoscopes lighting a beacon into the room and filling it with light.

The Ancient One sighed again. She drank her tea and grimaced.

It had gotten cold.

 

Notes: I'm still learning how to do this formatting thing so this is all you get for now! Sorry! I'm really dumb...

---​

“... So then the Kree rogue faction, these Reaper guys? Well, they're sort of like the North Korea of the Kree. They're isolated, backwards, and pretty much the butt of a lot of jokes, but no one bothers them all that much because they have some rather destructive weaponry.”

The camera panned to a computer generated “artist's interpretation” of what these “Kree Reapers” looked like. They were bulky like comic book characters, wearing skin-tight, black uniforms and wielding melee weaponry not dissimilar to what some might have expected Klingons to utilize. All in all, the 3D models were pretty close to their real life models.

“And yet,” George Tsoukalos' voice was back. “The Kree Reapers did not leave any standing legacies outside of the spread of pyramids across the world. Alien Specialist Kara Zorelle had this to say...”

Now it was back to the girl, fidgeting in her chair. She was wearing a rather nice and fitting suit that made her figure striking, but she seemed to be playing with the hem of the skirt more than paying attention to the camera. “O-Oh! Me again, right, so the thing is, they actually did leave many legacies. Previously, I talked about how the Kree were an intergalactic empire and how they experimented on people they saw as 'lesser' beings, right? And more over, the Reaper dudes did that on Earth...”

Now the viewers saw not something out of a computer but made with pure make-up and post-production. It was something only those at least adjacent to the industry could see. Otherwise, it was the very life-like video of a Native American man who was probably a Mayan being torn apart on what looked like an operation table by a bunch of segmented, metallic tentacles.

Blood flew everywhere and the man on the table screamed horrendously.

“... What they left firstly is this subgroup of humanity that now calls itself the 'Inhumans', who are, well, awakened by excessive exposure to Kree genetics and various... hm, I would say mutations, but I feel like I'd be stepping on some toes. Let's call them,” Kara paused and made a serious face, “'drastic militaristic changes in their gene structures', okay?”

“How are they different?”

“Well, the Kree can survive much more than humans can, as you know, so the very least of what their blood could induce directly into, ahem, test subjects? They could revive the dead, kind of. You really come back changed though, more homicidal and all that.” She made another face. “Well, that isn't to say the Inhumans are homicidal. Their leader is, but that's just because she was cut up and experimented on by HYDRA.”

“... And you said earlier that HYDRA was originally formed by the actions of the Kree on Earth, right? So how does that connect?” Tsoukalos made a rather nice 'puzzled' face.

Kara perked up at that. “Oh, that's easy! See, one of the original results was this guy who's got like tentacles for heads—in his true form. He can take over other people's bodies, but anyway, he's calling himself 'Hive', but he is actually the original 'Hydra' that the organization HYDRA was forged to resurrect... because their original members are his cult following, like he's some kind of rock star. Because he was the one who led the charge to drive the Kree off the planet. He's pretty powerful, with all sorts of strange abilities, really.”

“Wait, so he is an Inhuman too then? And how did HYDRA change so much over the years?” George was milking the questions, but he didn't let the eagerness in his voice overtake him. It seemed like they really didn't get the chance to make multiple shots of these scenes.

“Yeah, he was basically like the leader of the Inhumans for a time. Before they realized he was a tyrant who was mad with power, and drove him away onto another planet, anyway. So the Inhumans bred back into humanity, so every so often you'd have people with strange genes inherited this way, and with some catalysts those superpowers could be activated... like with these weird crystals they used, which are apparently water soluble.” Kara chortles. “So HYDRA eventually turned into this Japanese organization, but the Hydra has many heads, and there are many branches. One of them got taken over by some German fanatics, and by a guy called the Red Skull.”

“... Captain America's enemy,” George Tsoukalos whispered.

An image of [Captain America Issue #1] showed up.

“Yep,” Kara nodded.

Suddenly, the camera panned out and a processed version of Tsoukalos' voice could be heard over the pictures of Captain America punching out Hitler, in the comic book form. “Could the comic books have been telling the truth? Could the battles between Captain America and the Red Skull been battles fought between two inheritors of Alien legacies? … Could World War II have been directed in the shadows by secret Alien Overlords?”

Another shot showed a Professor Broklovski from DeVry Institute. He looked rather upset, and spoke in a scathing tone, “Of course you can't prove that World War II wasn't puppeteered by a bunch of secret aliens, just like you can't prove that Hitler himself wasn't an alien. Well? Can you prove that?”

The shot went back to Kara, who was sprawled over her chair with one of her legs resting on the arm of the chair. She was playing with something on her phone, which sounded like Candy Crush from the sound effects, and she was blowing a large, pink bubble with gum too. She looked up from her phone for a second and shrugged. “Eh. Maybe, IDK.”

“Could it be possible that World War II was the battlefield for aliens? Could New York have been only one of the closing battles of a long war?” Suddenly, his voice sounded like him again and the camera turned back to Tsoukalos. “It's very possible that alien technology was used in the war was an indication of aliens being a part of the Second World War.”

The picture changed into the cover of one of the later Captain America comics, one where the Red Skull was standing straight in the center and Captain America had been huddled up in one corner. The Red Skull was holding something in his hand that was shining too brightly to see.

The title beneath read: “HE WHO HOLDS THE COSMIC CUBE!”

“We see that in one of the later editions of the Captain America comics, that a cube similar to the one that appeared at the top of Stark Tower—within the machine that opened the portal to let the alien invasion in—had appeared. Through second hand sources of soldiers who have witnessed Captain America's action first hand, we know that some of the Germans have been known to have advanced weaponry that shot hot bolts of blue light.”

Now we saw the blurred picture of what was the wrecked roof of Stark Tower in the middle of New York. At the top, there was a machine, glowing blue and sending up a beam of similar blue light. There was a source of glowing at the center of the machine, but it was too bright for a camera phone to capture.

“Could the cube that appeared at the Battle of New York have been the same cube that the Nazi-occupied HYDRA cell used to produce Alien weaponry?” There was a dramatic pause, though appropriately short enough to almost seem like a documentary. “Alien Expert Kara Zorelle had this to say...”

“Yeah, they're the same.”

“How is that possible?” George Tsoukalos was back and he was motioning with his hands energetically, inquiringly, as if speaking the question that was on everyone's mind.

“Well,” Kara closed her phone and rolled her neck before sitting straighter. “See, the Red Skull had a genius scientist named Arnim Zola—almost as half as smart as Howard Stark, by the way, so that's like basically Tony level, don't tell him I said that—and this is a guy who made a machine that extracted the unlimited cosmic energy of the Space Stone, that is, the core of what was the 'Tesseract' or the cosmic cube that you have on that comic book, or at least the real thing. So later on Zola got taken in by the American government and he just stayed somewhere in New Jersey or some place turning out deep cover Nazi-fied HYDRA operatives forever, because he uploaded himself onto one of those room-sized ancient computers that took up a whole room, you know what I mean? Those ones that used cassette types. Anyway, that's another story. The thing is, Hydra cut up this lady, who was this Inhuman who ate the life force of people who she could touch. As long as she could eat life force enough to kill the, well, sacrifice, she could extend her life and have, like, super powers.”

“That... that sounds like they should have been on the same side,” Tsoukalos commented, almost at a loss for words.

Kara nodded, “Yeah, but that's what thousands of years do... the lady got her powers by blind luck, so she couldn't have known. But she's now the leader of the Inhumans, helping confused young people who wake up with super powers protect themselves against governments out to contain or exploit them. That sounds nice right?”

Tsoukalos nodded.

“Well, she also wants to wipe out humanity,” Kara added. “I'm not sure how... either killing all y'all or turning most of you into Inhumans yourself. I mean, it's not all sunshine if you do get superpowers. There's this real ugly guy who got the power to teleport anywhere on earth... but he doesn't have eyes anymore. Just... like skin where his eyes are. And he's kind of a homicidal maniac who justifies teleporting people to their deaths for this wiping out humanity cause.”

George Tsoukalos cleared his throat. “Perhaps we can talk about what else the Kree left on earth?”

“Oh!” Kara's eyes brightened. “Is it that time already? Well, let's go see the underwater temples they left. You can see how those experimentation surgery tables became what the, uh, ancient humans turned into sacrificial table thingies. It's real neat...”

The episode went on for another ten minutes exploring the temple, with Tsoukalos cutting in with while speculations, all of which Kara just shrugged at and verified.

---​

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33.4K [VIDEO LINK] Ancient Terran Aliens Episode 3 (vimeo.com)
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► submitted 7 hours ago by MarikaOnikey to r/superheronews
2441 comments share save hide report

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23.0K [VIDEO LINK] Incognito Captain America and InternGirl play MTG (youtube.com)
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► submitted 11 hours ago by 00Zy66 to r/magicTCG
260 comments share save hide report

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9001 [GIF LINK] Something Fishy is going on here... (gfycat.com)
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► submitted 11 hours ago by NotPunnySupergirl to r/science
131 comments share save hide report

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7322 [VIDEO LINK] InternGirl tells all! HYDRA Expose!?! (youtube.com)
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► submitted 3 hours ago by OverReactionGai to r/todayilearned
66 comments share save hide report

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4703 [LINK] The History Channel is actually showing history now, let's tune in to show our support! [/r/all] (history.com)
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► submitted 2 hours ago by Nai-tan to r/television
484 comments share save hide report

 

He has a shield, that he viciously slams into people.

I... I kinda laugh when I imagine him seeing it for the first time.

---

The scientist approaches Captain America, and shows him his shield for the first time.

"It's basically unbreakable sir. It should defend you well."

Cap stares at him for a long moment, before staring at the shield even longer.

He slowly reaches out, and takes it from the scientist, and begins to test it's weight.

"I... am going to throw this."

The scientist blinks owlishly, "What?"

"I will throw this. I will throw this at all the things."

"What."

"I am going to bonk the Nazis."

"Sir," the scientist begins, having managed to regain his footing, "It is a shield. It is designed to defend you, not to 'bonk the Nazis.'"

The Cap slowly, ever so slowly turned to stare at the scientist with wide, unblinking eyes.

"But why should I defend myself, when I can defend my enemies so hard they beg for mercy?"

The scientist stared at America's new icon, and he knew despair.

 

So... I'm a little put off by this formatting, but I've been kind of stuck on how to make it look SB-y. Sigh.

---​

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Home ⯈ Forums ⯈ SpaceBattles General Forums ⯈ Space Battles Main ⯈ Superhero Forum ⯈
Tony Stark - The Iron Man, Thread 2: Power Armor Boogaloo
Discussion in 'Superhero Forum' started by Tabby, May 2, 2008.

Tags: Iron Man, Tony Stark, Avengers
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Interngirl Wonder Girl Tells All!
Discussion in 'Superhero Forum' started by Tabby, April 1, 2013.

Tags: Ancient Aliens, Interngirl, Wondergirl, Kara Zorelle
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Wonder Girl VS the Avengers
Discussion in 'Vs. Debates' started by Purplestia010, August 3, 2013.

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Lilies in the Shadow (Avengers SI, Post-NYC)
Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Deviateswitch, July 11, 2013.

Tags: Avengers, Interngirl
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“... Now with us is Neil deGrasse Tyson,” John Stewart turned towards his guest with a flourish. He was at his desk, while Neil deGrasse Tyson was sitting on an opposing couch as the guest of the show. “Welcome to the Daily Show, Neil.”

“Glad to be here, John,” Black Science Man replied courteously.

The audience cheered.

John played with the pad of notebook paper on his desk, straightening them even though they were already straight. It was a signature of late night shows for hosts to play with the objects on their desks, if only to give an impression of twitchiness, so that people thought they did coke in the back stage or something. “Now, I understand you're here to talk about aliens. Everyone's been talking about aliens. It's like that astronaut craze all over again.”

The audience laughed.

“Of course, not everyone was born back then,” Neil added.

At that, John cut him off. “Oh, are you going to remind everyone of my age too, Neil? Oh no, come on, man.”

Neil laughed. “No, John. You know, even though I don't look like it, I'm actually older than you.”

The audience laughed again.

“Wait, wait,” John held up his hands in defeat. “What do you mean you don't look it? Are you saying I look old to you? What about you guys, my audience?”

There was a wild cheer, which could have meant anything.

John sighed. “... Right, I'll have you know it's a dignified look. So, hm, anyway, aliens?”

Neil smiled. “Yes, I'm here to talk about convergent evolution and what the current state of things, like the news being broken every time the Wonder Girl starts streaming or gives an interview.”

“Now, I think I'm fairly educated,” John replied. “But what in the hell did you mean by any of that?”

The audience chortled.

“You might laugh, John,” Black Science Man expressed earnestly. He leaned forward spoke with an utmost calm and dignity, but he also seemed like he was pleading. “But the thing is our race is one that has been, in part, influenced by our fears. And the fear I have now is... what is humanity's place in the world? What is our place in the universe, now that we know there are other creatures out there like us, but better in every way? We used to think we were the center of the universe, and that got debunked. We could accept that, but we always tried to think that we were special... how can we be special now if even among humanoids, the only unique thing about us is that we're less evolved, less advanced, and weaker in every way than every other alien species out there?”

BZZT.

“Hey! I was watching that!” Clint Barton complained as Natasha Romanov walked into the living room or den of the recently christened Avengers Tower and turned off the television.

Rather than giving Clint a response on that, Natasha turned to the corner of the room before turning back to Clint with a frown on her face.

There was a girl sitting in the corner of the living room on a stool that was too tall for her feet to reach the ground. For some odd reason, she was wearing a conic hat with the word 'DUNCE' written on it, and she was faced towards the wall with her shoulders slumped down. It almost looked like she was sniffling.

“Oh that,” Clint nodded understandingly. “You'll have to ask Tony.”

Just then, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers walked into the room, being the last of the Avengers to come in. Steve stopped at the door. “Tony, why is there a kid sitting in the corner of the room?”

“That's the time out zone.” Tony replied without even looking that way, “She's in time out.”

“Why?” Steve frowned.

“Are you sure you wanna know, Rogers?” Tony suddenly turned to Steve. He took off his sunglasses and the visage he showed was one of horror. These were the eyes of someone who had stared into the abyss and kept staring while the abyss turned around and farted in their face. It was a look that made even the stalwart heart of Steve Rogers waver.

Steve could almost feel the sting of tears about to roll out of the corners of his eyes. The stare Tony gave him as they looked into each others' eyes was one that he'd seen many times in old soldiers. But where had Tony...? “... Yes?”

“Three words.” Tony sounded defeated. “Stark Spangled Banner.”

“What?” Steve's head tilted.

“Oh, I got this,” Clint spun around in his chair. He pulled up a laptop out of somewhere—it didn't really matter where, this was formerly Stark Tower, after all—and clicked away. He stopped typing after a second, and then he started laughing. He laughed so hard, he was rolling on the floor laughing his ass off.

Bruce Banner, ever the curious scientist, peeked over at the screen. “... Tony Stark multiplied by Steve Rogers, multiplied by Bruce Banner? She wrote this... uh, fan fiction dot net?”

“'It was a dark and stormy night,'” Natasha read over Bruce's shoulder. She was curious what caused her coworker to laugh so enthusiastically. This was one of those times that she felt her humor didn't align with everyone else, just like that time she didn't think Tony was bringing a party over to her back when Loki was opening the sky to some weird space place. Then again, half of the team were battle crazed lunatics and she was the only sane person, a woman, on the team. “'Tony Stark reached over Steve Roger's sculpted, sweat covered shoulder to grab Bruce Banner's-'”

“What's wrong?” Steve frowned. “Why'd you stop reading?”

“Uh,” Natasha turned around. She couldn't help that her expression was so easy to read; she was in shock. She looked like a deer in headlights. “It's just a... don't worry about it Steve. It's just a story about us. You know we have a lot of fans around the world... they like to create stories about us since we're rather private people. That's all.”

“But...” Bruce raised a finger.

“That is all, Mister Banner.” Natasha glared back at Bruce, her gaze promising something worse than death.

“Wait, so she wrote that?” Steve looked confused.

“Who is she... wait, is that your intern, Tony?” Rhodey took a step back. He turned to Tony and shouted, “What is wrong with you, Tony? And you just let Sam in here too? I thought we were friends, Tony!”

Sam Wilson, who was the Falcon, had only wanted to relax for the day. After all, it wasn't everyday that you got to chill with some of the coolest people on the planet, in the Avengers Tower with a fully stocked Tony Stark level bar, after saving the world yet again. It wasn't a dream come true scenario, but it was close, so he had sought to just keep his mouth shut and enjoy the night. But at Rhodey's outburst, he couldn't help but ask, “Wait, what's wrong with his intern, er, Wonder Girl?”

The moment he said the name, the girl perked up and looked over at them over her shoulder. She waved at James Rhodes with a very enthusiastic light in her eyes. “H-Hey, J-dawg! What is up in this, uh, his house?”

Sam Wilson turned to Colonel Rhodes with a pained look in his eyes.

Rhodey didn't even bother replying to Sam. He was still staring at Tony, who for some reason found it very hard to do anything except holding his hands to his mouth. “You see what I mean, Tony? What the hell is wrong with your intern, man?”

“H-Hey, don't be player hating, b-bro!” Kara cried.

“Tony? Say something!” Rhodey wasn't actually asking Tony to say anything. No, he wanted Tony to do something instead, but all Rhodey could do was hold Tony's shoulders and shake him as hard as he could. “What's the matter with you?”

“It's just... I wanted to tell everyone about how I was going to use Zola's technology to, well, it doesn't matter what, it's just something to get my mind off of the stories she wrote, but I never knew this about you guys... and, well, I just remembered,” Tony said between fits of laughter. “There's just so much beauty in the world.”

 

I'm not dead, guys.

“Ooh child, things are gonna get easier...​

Ooh child, things will be brighter...”​

It had all come down to this. Their entire adventure through space, seeing the strange things that Peter had never thought or dreamed he could have seen, and punching all the different people he never thought he'd meet had come down to this. Xandar didn't have its fleet to save its people. The Yondu Ravager Clan had all but been exhausted by the fighting.

Peter Quill's eyes darted around. He saw how terrified everyone was. There were children just yards away from him, cowering in the embrace of their mothers and fathers. No matter how much Peter thought he should have been envying them, all he could think about was how no child should have to experience that. They shouldn't be so paralyzed with fright that they'd hug the closest thing, even if it was a blue skinned space pirate who kidnapped them.

They shouldn't...

Peter almost rolled his eyes at the resolve building in his chest. He couldn't run away from this fight, but he didn't even have a weapon that could scratch Ronan. He had the strength to stand against him, but he didn't have the strength to fight.

And so, Peter sighed inwardly. He knew he had to... get creative. He had to do something so stupid...

… well, after he groaned a little more and rolled off of his back. The explosion that threw him and his friends off of Ronan the Stupidly Crazy's space ship had pretty much wrecked them. He felt like he'd broken a few ribs. Now that he thought about it, after this was all over, he could really go for some delicious ribs.

That would have to wait thought. Peter Quill groaned again, his eyes squinted in pain, and picked himself up as Star-Lord.

“Ooh child, things are gonna get easier...​

Ooh child, things will be brighter...”​

His cassette player, a piece of technology he'd spent years trying to integrate into his ship, had broken off. Somehow it was still playing, obviously broken in some way. The music sounded strange to his ears. Distant. For a second, Peter Quill didn't want to hear it. He wanted to wave his hand and wish it away, along with the pain he was feeling in his everything and the emotional trauma of watching his mom die before his eyes. Wait, the trauma? No, he'd gotten over that ages ago. He had to have.

It was probably just the pain talking, Peter surmised as he watched the smoke clear.

Ronan, in his silly wargear jumped off of some make shift ramp made by a piece of debris from his Kree battleship. He had some weird black stuff painted on his face, which made him look silly more than anything else. Peter wondered if he thought it was silly because he knew he was going to die here anyway, so he didn't have anything to fear? Or maybe the fall had knocked something loose.

“You killed Groot! ARGGH!”

Peter's ears were ringing. Did someone say something? He looked up, just in time to see Rocket being thrown some arbitrary distance.

“Behold!” Ronan was saying. Who was he talking to? “Your Guardians of the Galaxy! What fruit have they wrought, only that my father and his father shall finally know vengeance!”

Okay, so Ronan was doing his villain monologue. Peter blinked. That was good, that meant he was actually dumber than he looked, which was saying something. It also gave them time to improvise. And Peter's gaze flew between his friends, each of them looking less defeated by the second and more like coiling vipers.

“People of Xandar! The time has come to rejoice and renounce your paltry gods!” Ronan had quite the voice, but that battle paint that looked like tar that was all over his face? It looked like it was inside his mouth too. It was like between each of his teeth, which probably wasn't very sanitary. He raised his battle staff... battle hammer...? Peter wasn't good with these ancient weapon things, so he thought it was more a staff with a fat head, which was probably, again, Ronan compensating for something or another. “Your salvation is at hand! Yishalgaiya!”

“Ooh child, things are gonna get easier. Ooh child, things are gonna get brighter.” Peter's body moved before he thought, but he was actually thinking. Distract the bastard, stop him from using the Infinity Stone, or they were all going to die. He didn't want to die, there was so much to live for. Not just his dreams, but the dreams of all of Xandar seemed to flash before his eyes as he shook his butt and danced the moves that caused every muscle in his body to ache even more. He pointed at Ronan, whose hands lowered as the longer Peter danced. “Listen to these words. Ooh child, things are gonna get easier. Ooh child, things are gonna get brighter. Now bring it down, hard!”

Ronan was still paralyze, the dummy that he was.

Peter continued, because he actually stopped paying attention to Ronan. No, this was his moment to shine! He was the star of the stage, the diva of the dance and song! The pain didn't bother him, not while he was dancing, not while singing this song! He moved! “Some day! We'll put it together and—”

“What are you doing?” Ronan's voice lost all of the vigor he had a moment ago. It sounded like he was grunting and completely dissatisfied with how the culmination of his vengeance was going.

Peter placed a hand on his hips and thrust back and forth. “Dance off, bro! Me and—”

Boom.

“Oh, what now?” Peter groaned as the sound alone nearly knocked him off his feet.

The sky seemed to split in half and open into a portal like an eye opening up completely. The portal was a glowing blue mass that churned like a whirlpool in the air, the very clouds seemed less sucked in and more distorted, like light near a black hole. Something red and hot shot from the darkness within the hole in space, and it swung down in an arch like it was shot from a catapult at the speed of sound.

Gravel and dirt flew everywhere, but the impact was contained. Some pebbles bounced off of the hard leather on Peter's pants but it otherwise didn't affect him... but it should have. It was almost as if the energy of the landing had been contained, somehow.

The dust cleared quickly, and a younger girl stood in the crater within a crater. She had a sort of dirty blonde hair much like Peter's and she wore clothes with branding he was intimately familiar with. That was a Mickey Mouse sweater. But everything else she wore made her look like some kind of dumb cheerleader. That didn't make Peter think the girl was from Earth—Terra—no, he knew better when her eyes lit up like freaking searchlights.

She smiled at him. “Did someone say... dance off? I better not have missed it.”

“Uh, nope.” Never one to be caught flatfooted, Peter immediately replied, “I was just going to challenge the blue wonder here to a one-on-one showdown. Me and him, and...”

Before anyone could do anything, the girl's hand shot behind her and a moment later, Ronan's staff exploded into dust. “Cool story, bro. I'ma let you finish, uh... what's your name again?”

“... Star-Lord,” Peter's eyes widened just a fraction as Ronan sputtered. In the corner of his eyes, he saw Gamora fall back on her ass at the impact. She looked dazed. But Rocket was still ready, his cannon pointed at Ronan. The raccoon was watching him for a signal. Peter paused... and then shook his head ever so slightly.

“Star-Lord? Pffft. That's a dumb name.” The girl snorted.

“Oh yeah? Well, at least I don't look like a cheerleader.” Peter frowned. That didn't sound as witty as it did in his head. He blinked and then asked, “Well, what's your name that's so much better?”

“I...” The girl paused and then swallowed her saliva loudly. “Uh... I... Um... shit, fucking god damn it, Tony! I-I mean...”

Peter found himself smirking smugly. He crossed his arms knowingly.

The girl's shoulders drooped. Her head lowered dejectedly as she sighed, “... Wonder-Girl.”

“What is going on here?!” Ronan took that moment to roar, spittle flying everywhere. He still held the lower half of his staff, his hands shaking as if they had just been holding onto something that had just exploded with enough force to literally rattle his bones. “Who are you? How?! HOW! What is... HOW??”

Wonder-Girl turned over her shoulder, looking up at Ronan (the dude was tall and the girl was tiny, Peter noted) with a look of total disdain. It was almost as if she wasn't looking at a person, but at some kind of poop that she didn't know how she'd stepped into. “Thank you for your input.” She turned back to Peter. “So how do I get in on this action, eh, Star-Lord?”

“No! No one ignores Ronan the Accuser!” Ronan stepped forward and grabbed at Wonder-Girl.

Ronan missed when his hand fell through her, and it was in that moment that Peter realized that the girl was holding the Infinity Stone in her palm as if it was nothing. Holy shit, he thought. Now he was curious who she was too, but she obviously didn't take kindly to people asking.

Wonder-Girl appeared an inch away from Ronan's fingers and she didn't even turn to him. However, it was clear that she was talking to him as she sighed, “Whoever told you to be yourself must have been pretty mean. Ronan, was it? You are just impossible to underestimate, aren't you?”

“What.” Ronan's face seemed to twist with rage. His cheeks purpled as he yelled, “Are you mocking me? ME?”

She turned to the Kree warlord with a condescending grin. “Your grasp of the obvious and delusions of competence is inspiring. I suppose this is why everyone talks about you. You aren't pretty enough to be that dumb. In fact, you're... let me emphasize this heavily... ugly.”

“Oo-oh!” Peter chortled and added over this Wonder-Girl's shoulder, “And your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries!”

“Nice reference,” the girl smirked at Peter.

This told Peter just about enough about her—she obviously wasn't a dick, like Ronan. So he raised his hand in for a high-five.

Without thinking about it, she reciprocated on the gesture.

This turned out to be a mistake.

The moment their skin touched, purple fire spread across his hand, cracking into him like some kind of molten disease. Wonder-Girl's eyes widened in that moment and she pulled back immediately. Rather than checking on him, she turned to Gamora, of all people, and reassured her. “Don't worry, he's fine. His dad's genes makes sure he can withstand this, no problem. For a short while anyway.”

Gamora watched them, too speechless to say anything.

“But just to be safe,” Wonder-Girl added. She then popped the purple Infinity Stone into her mouth. A loud crunching noise could be heard and she pointed at Ronan, who was suddenly turned into purple ashes.

Some purple-y smoke rose from those ashes.

Peter backed away. He was conflicted, inside. On one hand, she just killed a guy and she didn't even blink while doing it. On the other hand, she knew about Monty Python. That meant she wasn't just someone who went to Earth, she also liked the same things as him. What was weighing this in her favor was that she also could dance. But... “That's an ugly skirt though.”

The way Wonder-Girl turned to Peter seemed weird, until he realized why she could be upset. “I said that aloud, didn't I?”

 

My name is Peter Parker. My Aunt May says my parents named me that because it'd make my name sound like a superhero name, like Bucky Barnes or Bruce Banner. I mean, Bruce Banner is, was, um hm, is kind of their idol.

Back when they were alive.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't really feel like a hero.

I have the mask, the suit, and the powers, but I'm not Mister Stark, you know? After that airport battle, I feel even less than a hero than ever.

Mister Stark was all like, I have to stop you, and all that. And Cap, I guess he's an international fugitive or something now, was all like I have to do this, this is really important. I was just there to help out... I didn't believe in anything they believe in anything they believed in. I was like... a paid thug, maybe? Or an unpaid intern.

Does getting a high tech suit count as a living wage?

Whatever, the thing is, that was so awesome how they were there, fighting through dirty stuff face to face and everything. But when I actually stand next to them, I felt like I was so small compared to them.

They're giants.

I mean, it feels like they're giants. They're not really that tall, Mister Stark especially, but you know how it is right? It feels like their shadow just kind of covers you and you don't think you can step out of it...

... they're cool though. Like, really cool. Like, I don't know what they're fighting for and all that (Something about a bill or a law or something in the UN? How does that even affect us in the US anyway?) but whatever made them fight each other? That has to be important, right? It can't just be some misunderstanding or some stupid emotional drama stuff like I see in high school everyday. That's probably why it's too complicated for me. It's some delicate and layered ethics thing that bores me to death in school... but it's probably important. Everyone says so.

Anyway, that was like, weeks ago.

I've been trying to get in contact with Happy, Mister Stark's assistant and former bodyguard (not that he really needs one anymore since he's the INVINCIBLE IRON MAN), but he's never picked up the phone. It's kind of annoying, but I really want to be like them.

Fight for something.

Believe in something.

I mean, I guess I'm just trying to stop street crime, but it feels like I'm always doing something wrong. Besides, there's nothing I need to believe in to stop some dude from snatching some old lady's purse. That's just the right thing to do.

I need something more. So, even if I can't get a hold of Mister Stark or even Happy, since he's some kind of a big shot now or something, but I was looking up stuff online about Stark Industries. They're sending someone to the battle sites to oversee that the alien stuff doesn't get "misappropriated by bureaucracy" (what does that even mean?) or something.

I'm pretty sure I can find Happy there, and it's only like a few swings away from school, so I should be back before dinner.

Most of downtown New York is still a roughed up war zone, like say what you will about anything else, construction and stuff isn't efficient around here. The construction people and whoever else makes money off of the aftermath of these alien wars will probably milk it for years to come, and only clean up a little of it at a time or something.

It actually didn't take long for me to find the people in charge. I thought I could start there to look for Happy. I bet he'd be surrounded by people in suits, who looked like the, you know, scum of the earth, bloodsucking parasite types. You know, politicians.

They were arguing or dressing down some construction workers, probably some stupid thing that made no sense. I hung from the ceiling, kind of spying now that I thought about it, but I was just peaking okay? Anyway, I was just looking around from a vantage point that no one would notice me from when someone tapped my shoulder.

No one gets to sneak up on me like that. No one, after the... after I got powers.

So I overreacted, of course.

Not that it did any good, because it was that Wondergirl from the Avengers. She wasn't around a lot, but if you talked to people on reddit or something, they'd say she was actually more useful than most of the other Avengers. Sure, they all fought, but she was the only one who stuck around and told the rest of us what was going on. It was one of those things where the people in charge probably thought there'd be panic in the streets if we knew anything, but political discourse relied on being painted a full picture. The complete and utter truth is needed for a reason, after all.

She was actually a little shorter than me, with platinum blonde hair and a really baggy sweater with the word "INTERN" printed on the chest. And she was holding a bag of freshly made popcorn. It smelled sugary rather than salty though, so I pulled back from her.

"Hey." She nodded at me coolly.

How did even she get so cool? I needed to get to be Mister Stark's actual intern so I could learn from him like she did! "H-Hi, Supergirl, right?" Smooth, Peter. Saying her name wrong was a sure way to make a bad first impression! Nooo...

"... Yep, that's me," she blinked at me. "So you're the Amazing Spiderman, huh? How's that working out for you?"

... Roll with it.

Wait, 'Amazing Spiderman'? Oh, that sounded real smooth. I liked that.

I think I'll call myself that. Well, not when I'm introducing myself. Maybe like, if I was working at the newspaper or something. That'd be a cool title. The Amazing Spiderman Saves The Day! Yeah.

I'll admit it, I was nervous. I shifted around upside down on the ceiling and scratched the back of my neck. Compared to Happy or Mister Stark, Kara Zorelle was probably just out of high school right? She's probably in my age group. I could talk to her. Breath, Peter. What do I say? "I... Not really that great actually. I want to help out. Do you get any missions with the Avengers? Can you take me on one of those missions? Can you get me missions?"

"Whoa," she raised her hands. Ah I was talking too much. Bad habit. "Slow down there, tiger. Why exactly do you want bad things to happen?"

"No, no, no, I don't want bad things to happen, I mean, I just, when can I save the world again?" I backpedaled.

"So... you're an adrenaline junky looking for action?" She wasn't frowning at me, but I felt like she was judging me.

That wasn't the impression I wanted to make either, but I didn't know how to put it into words. The need, the desire, to fight for something. To want to believe in a cause. I sagged. "I just want to help and--"

"And Mister Stark tells you to stay where you are," she finished for me.

"And Mister Stark tells me--oh. Uh. Yeah," I shuffled again, feeling uncomfortable with how she never blinked. She'd said on the internet she was an alien, but when you see her in a screen, you could only think how she looks like a Barbie doll or how she looked like a post-airbrushed child model or something. It only sinks in how she's actually an alien, maybe with cold blood or something, when she stares down at you without ever blinking. Looking down at regular people like they weren't even there. Like... like I was the only interesting there because I was a character in a show for her, or something. It didn't help that she was in my personal space and she cut right to the chase.

It was like she was trying to intimidate me or something. And, boy, she was scary. Like, like... I don't know, like the Black Widow.

I took a step back.

She leaned closer, her eyes dimly glowing red.

Goosebumps rose on my skin and I shivered. "Um."

"Yes?" She acted like she wasn't doing anything.

I cleared my throat loudly and tried to look away from her. And talk about anything else. "So, do you have a mission or something for me?"

"I..." She frowned. "I have a space ship. Tell me, Mister Incredible And Amazing Spiderman, have you ever been to space?"