DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Avengers. All rights belong to Stan Lee, and Marvel Cinematic Universe. I only own my OC, who is a badass mofo and takes none of your shit. And her she is, taking none of your shit.
It was a cold morning for New York City, not that the weather deterred the press hanging outside the hospital. With infinite patience they waited, hoping to get a glimpse of the new media sensation, and maybe even a statement from the bold young woman. About seven o clock, when even the most patient of them were shuffling in their shoes, the hospital doors slid open, and they were treated to the sight of one Kaitlyn Donaheilly marching out to the steps of the building, where they were waiting. In a furious instant they swarmed up close to the steps, cameras were on, and FOX, CNN and every other newstation available was live, watching her. They swarmed around her in a semi-circle and pressed the microphones close to her, hoping to catch every single word she said. But not one of them dared step too close to the fiery woman. Live on national television, her face remained impassive for about five seconds, and then she opened her mouth.
"It has come to my understanding, that one General Kane is demanding my expulsion from the military. General. You are seven years too late. I have already left the army. I am instead the Secretary to one, Mr Anthony Edward Stark. For eight months I have worked with this team, the Avengers. For eight months I have watched them spar, bandaged their wounds, splinted their broken limbs. For eight months I have watched them take on everything you, and the rest of the world has thrown at them. For eight months I have learned just how they deal with this. If you, General know this, if you understand this, then I would regret my actions in dealing with you.
But you are an upstart, pretentious, daddy's boy. You have not one single military bone in your body. You are softer in mind and soul than a newborn child, and if you had been in my unit, I would have sent you back into combat training for three years. I did not serve the US Army for 9 years, so that weak-minded curs like you could order the rest of us around. Have you tasted blood, General? Have you marched into battle in the heat of a fiery, unforgiving desert, and known that you'd never save the innocents before their own countrymen would bomb them? Have you ever dug through the ruins of a village, in order to search for survivors and only ever found broken bodies, and bloody, dead children? Have you ever known that one man can make the difference between life and death in that harsh, unforgiving land where the sun finds every single bit of skin you possess, so that it can burn you? Have you ever seen every single member of your team, blown to bloody bits by a hand-grenade, and have you ever buried them, and tried to find their dog tags in the unholy mess that the grenade caused?" The reporters were completely silent. Behind them a crowd of businessmen and businesswomen, baristas and labourers stood, watching her with eagle eyes, hanging on to her every word.
"Have you, General? Have you ever commanded a team, and been responsible for their lives, and for every movement they make? Because if you haven't, General, then don't try to make decisions for this team, upon whose shoulders, the world depends. If you haven't led a team into life or death, then do not presume to understand what I understand. Our difference is General is that unlike you, I earned my rank. I fought through blood, sweat, and tears, and the violent gore that war produces. I fought through all that for my rank. You were pampered and given ideas that you were more worthy than any other soldier, despite the fact that you've probably never seen combat. You demand my expulsion from the military. But I am not there. Even now though, you cannot call me a civilian. I am not one. I do not gawk at violence like civilians, I act on violence as I was trained by the army. I belong to neither circle, and yet I am intimately involved with both. You, General, don't belong in the army, but they have put you there. You belong with civilians. The one's who won't ever see combat, unless they are running from it." There were murmurs in the crowd, nods of agreement.
"You come to me with threats, General, but your threats are nothing, like yourself. Until you have bled in combat, stood with your own team ready to die, until you have sweated until your own tears were lost in sweat, then you may never stand on the same level as myself. Take a walk, General. Walk all the way to Afghanistan and lose your limbs there. Only then will you ever have a chance to earn the respect you believe you should be given. But don't test me. Deny my team, my friends, my colleagues' medical aid again. Deny them that again. I dare you. I dare you too." Faint gasps were heard from the crowd, and some people looked at each other incredulously.
"I once busted a Colonel, down to a Corporal, because his stupid actions killed 200 people. Your stupid actions have killed 3 people. Try me again. I will bust you down to Cadet, and I will have you in combat training for the rest of your life. I will ruin your reputation, I will ruin your army credibility. I will ruin you. Try me. I dare you. That team, is my team. Don't push me too far. I'm already on the edge."
And with that last warning she turned on her heel and walked inside, leaving the stunned reporters to deliver their own words on the tale. None of them called after her. None of them doubted her. Within an hour, it was the most reported story on the news.