Rain lashed against the windowpane, a soft drumming against the glass that eased you awake. A chill snaked across your bare arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. The curtains billowed gently, pulled open to a gray New York morning. Squinting, you fumbled for your phone on the nightstand.
09:23.
A sigh escaped your lips as you let your feet slip over the edge of the bed. The shock of cold tile jolted you awake. A familiar, icy blue bloom spread up your calves, fading at your thighs. It wasn’t normal. You’d been hiding it for years, afraid of what your parents would say. This wasn’t the only strange thing about you. Around seven, you’d discovered you could nudge small objects with your mind. But the effort left your head throbbing, so you’d abandoned it.
Slipping into worn slippers to ward off the blue fire in your legs, you shuffled towards the kitchen. As expected, your parents were gone. They left without a word, only a note. Always just a note. Today’s read:
Dear Y/N, Your father and I are away on business. We don’t know when we’ll be back.
From, Your Parents.
“Not even a ‘Love you,’” you muttered, tossing the note back on the table. You were old enough to manage on your own, maybe even move out if you wanted. But a small voice in the back of your head whispered that you should stay. It was the right thing to do.
Toast in hand, you settled onto the sofa in the New York apartment your parents owned. You had no idea what they *did* for a living, and you’d never bothered to ask. Whatever it was, it paid well. The apartment was spacious, comfortably furnished. Watching the city wake up through the large window, you relaxed. You did enjoy the quiet.
Boom.
You and your toast went flying across the room. Skidding across the polished wood floor, you scrambled to your feet, staring at the source of the blast. Your eyebrows arched. Pure confusion must have been plastered on your face.
“Who the hell is that?” you breathed, mind racing. Was that… Iron Man? Had Iron Man blown half your apartment apart?
“I have no idea,” a voice said, cool and precise. “There’s no record of her on the database. Only registered the two Hydra agents, no mention of a third.” Black Widow walked slowly towards Iron Man, her gaze assessing. Black Widow? Hydra agents? Nothing made sense.
Black Widow’s gaze shifted to you, then to your arm. The blue patterns, previously flaring up your leg, were now streaming up your forearm, disappearing under your shirt. You quickly pulled your hand away from the cold floor, and the patterns vanished.
“Did you see that, Tony?” Black Widow didn’t break her stare.
“Who *are* you?” Iron Man demanded. “And what was that?” You didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t comprehend it. One minute you were enjoying toast, the next you were airborne, courtesy of Iron Man. The world was spinning, and you were utterly, terrifyingly lost.