Hello and welcome! Here follows the prologue to my little story. So you know, not all chapters will be songfics. Probably just this one. They are inspired by song, but just in the way of mood and feeling. If you like it, let me know! Favorite, follow, or review. Oh, also the husband is not an Avenger, just a regular dude.

As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be

After the funeral, she spent two months in bed, wallowing and remembering. She remembered all the major moments of her life together. The day she met him. Their 1st date, 1st kiss. Their wedding. The day he graduated police academy, and they moved when he found a job. Living together happily in the small struggling city as years passed. He joined the gang squad, she taught at the high school. Them working together to try and make a difference. Telling him she was pregnant. These thoughts cycled around in her head always ended in the last one. The night of the murder.

He was out walking, going to the store to buy her some little thing. A treat. The group of gang member saw him and shot him down. He wasn't even working, not in uniform. They gang squad whispered that it was all planned. He was an up and coming officer and got too close to the leader. So, they snuffed him out. She thought of the aftermath, going to the hospital. At some point she started bleeding. The Miscarriage, brought on by stress. Her whole life, gone in an instant. All they'd built, everything she'd ever wanted. Gone.

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so f*cking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be

One day she sat up. A sudden waking from a long, uneasy sleep. Mounted by his side of the bed was a staff. He was trained to fight with it. He never wanted a gun in the house. She carefully took it down and held it. The touch of the fine, smooth wood ignited something in her. Hatred, so hot it threatened to consume her, make her forget. No she'd never forget. They thought of him and their baby drove her forward. She dressed and took the staff with her to visit a friend, Robert Coulson, her husband's trainer.

Robert watched her coming up the front walk, staff in hand and fire in her eyes.

"Rob, I need your help. I'm going to find him. I'm going to kill him. And as many of his subordinates as I can along the way."

Robert didn't ask questions. He opened the door to her and starting her training.

After she left, Robert picked up the phone. "Cousin Phil! I have someone you might want to keep an eye on. She shows incredible promise."

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty-odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be

It took 5 more months of training and research, but she was ready. She dressed in dark clothes, tucked a picture in her shirt, grabbed the staff and went to walk the streets. She glanced at her wall calendar. 7 months since he died. She had been about 2 months along.

Maybe, she thought, even though my pregnancy didn't birth a baby, something else will be born tonight.

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still f*cking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be

It didn't take long. She found the group of low level gang bangers she was looking for. Four of them. She hid in the shadows of the street lights.

She took a breath, pressed the photo in her blouse, and thought maybe tonight my love, maybe tonight, and stepped into the light.

"Excuse me boys. I'm looking for Drake. I have a message for him."

Before they could react, she raised her staff and sent is slicing through the air and over the head of the 1st boy. She spun quickly, taking down another at the knees, smashing his head off the curb. The third fell with a strike to the ribs and a kick to the face. The fourth she needed awake, she needed to slow down. She knocked him from behind over shoulders, dropping him to his knees. Another hit to the side toppled him

There's room at the top they're telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill

Bree knelt by panting boy, reaching into his shirt and taking out the picture. A smiling photo of her and her husband. She tucked it into his hand, and whispered to him. "Tell Drake what happened. Tell him what happened and show him who's looking for him."

She stood up quickly and made her retreat. These boys would report back, give Drake the photo and then he would know. The thought of it brought a cold smirk to her lips. It was started.

A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me