Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel characters. Constance is my OC.
After years of living alone in desolate Russia, I wasn't all too eager to join the Avengers. We're a ragtag group sharing a somewhat common interest in protecting humanity to one extent or another, that meant watching Loki the deranged Norse God, and after the 'mewling quim' incident I was assigned guard duty. His silver tongue was as dangerous as any blade along with his threats and aura of superiority but Loki seemed startled when he laid eyes on me and the fact I had sworn I'd seen him before was even more frightening.
"Hey," Tony Stark stood snapping fingers in front of my face.
"Huh? What happened?"
"You went out there again."
"Oh," I paused glancing around the lab, eyes falling on Bruce who looked concerned, it was embarrassing to say the least. "Been thinking..."
"We can see that," Bruce murmured.
I excused myself gruffly and fled the room whilst numerous, racing things continued flowing through my mind.
Lukewarm water washed over my skin and vanquished the silence and dirt till I decided upon a workout to ease my mind and the journey was arduous but not after tumbling onto the floor from a hearty slap to the back.
"My apologies, Lady Constance," Thor proclaimed loudly offering an outstretched hand. The blonde-haired extraordinarily strong and kind god had the unique quality of being amusing without even meaning to but perhaps it was the cultural difference.
"Where are you heading this fine day?"
"Training." I stormed off feeling slightly guilty about my abruptness.
"Farewell," he called out faintly.
A modest village and their ways of culture and religion became my own when they adopted me. Kamchadals regarded Kutka as the creator of all things but had a complete lack of veneration for him and attributed the difficulties of life to his stupidity. They believed Kutka to be married to an intelligent woman named Chachy who was said to have kept him from foolishness and corrected him constantly. I don't recall my given name but hollow screams of my parents commanding me to run jolt my memory when I try to remember. The Kamchadals were once a proud race before they were decimated by Cossacks in the 18th century.
A foul, crimson liquid painted her petite hands generously and it dribbled down her neck. She fidgeted frantically, ripping off tainted clothes, pawing at the severed chain and cuff wrapped around her wrist. Constance towered over a mass of bodies alight with eyes glinting savagely and she sobbed forsaken.
Time is what we want most but what we use the worst, everyone wants to live forever. They all think they have a chance at immortality, even though all the evidence is against it. They all think they will be the exception... perhaps three hundred years has made me wiser. I had no name before I met a certain genius billionaire playboy philanthropist in the 21st century.