Disclaimer: The Avengers and Avatar: The Legend of Aang are owned by Marvel Studio and Nickelodeon respectively. I am just writing a fanfiction.
Warnings: Characters death. Some A: TLA characters may be slightly OC. This is due to them being older in my fanfic than in the cartoon, notwithstanding the traumatic experience they've been through. There ages are roughly therefore;
Toph – 17
Aang – 17
Katara – 19
Sokka – 20
Azula – 19
Zuko – 21
Ty Lee (Shortened as Ty) – 19
Prologue: How It All Started
Aang sung his staff horizontal in a wide arc, releasing a large burst of pressurized air at the incoming chitauris sending them crashing into lamp-posts and deserted vehicles.
He jumped high in the air, twirling his staff round him before delivering a devastating jet of pressurized air destroying the leviathan-like alien, sending it crashing into a building, destroying it in the process.
Free falling, he placed his staff in a strap across his back over his robe. He spun in the air before propelling himself upwards, using his arms and legs to dodge the falling debris. He stepped on a bigger stone, using it to launch himself higher, across the road and down on a building adjacent to the destroyed one.
He landed on the roof. He walked towards the roofs' edge stopping a foot away; his body in a tense preparation to either fight or jump down and escape if the enemies found him.
He makes out a red and gold blur streak across the sky, heading towards the portal . . . PORTAL! With an air enhanced jump, he shot across the sky, skipping multiple buildings in his quest to reach the rapidly decreasing portal.
He landed on a building, from which he could see the red and gold figure - who he recognized as the super hero Iron Man - disappear into the portal.
With batted breath and staff clutched so tight his knuckles became white, he waited for iron man to reappear and when he did; he felt relieved.
He jumped down the building, landing softly on the ground a few feet away from the gathered team. Captain America, Iron man, Hulk, Thor, Natasha and Barton (though they weren't present now) - the Avengers or whatever Fury decided to call them in his absence.
He was in time to catch iron man's finishing sentence.
". . . Have you ever tried shawarma? There is a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I want to try it."
He stayed silent, careful not to make his presence known to the superhero team. But it was all for nought as immediately iron mans' attention diverted from the thought of eating shawarma and focused on him, the rest followed suit.
Even though they were tired from fighting all day, they still got into their various fighting stances with iron man standing up albeit shakily.
Though he knew it would be easy to take them on in a fight now, he knew it would cause unnecessary problems for the director and though the thought was tempting, he didn't follow through with it. He would have to find another way of troubling Fury.
Besides, he had two very important people to find people to find.
"Where is Natasha and Bart – "
"Aang. Nice of you to come back . . . Three months late." Natasha said, interrupting Aang as she walks up to them, Barton trailing closely behind.
Aang shrugged. "To be fair, I didn't know that taking a detour will lead to an alien invasion."
"Got straight to work the minute you got back. No rest for Fury's lapdog?" Hawkeye mocked half-heartedly.
Aang snorted.
He was known as Fury's lapdog because he owes Phil and by proxy Fury, his life. They did teach him everything he knew on how to survive in this world.
"Well, I wanted to take out my anger and frustrations on something. The aliens just happened to be at the right place at the right time or is it the wrong place at the right time . . . " he trailed off scratching the back of his neck, still in thought.
Having been partnered with Aang for a few missions and getting to know him on some personal level, Natasha quickly deduced that something was wrong with the younger agent.
Plus, the kid had a bad poker face.
"I take it, it didn't go as planned." Natasha said.
Aang sighed before answering, "No . . . It didn't.' he sighed once more, his face looking forlorn. 'got to go meet the director before he flips," his face broke into a smile as he turned towards the archer. "and Barton, prepare yourself for raining fruit pies."
As he entered the adjacent building, he heard iron man asking one of the agents who he was (probably Barton). He chuckled silently as he walked up the stairs. Iron man won't be able to find anything on S.H.I.E.L.D database about him; he doesn't exist in this world after all. And Fury made sure he stayed that way.
He stopped in front of the door leading to the rooftop. He opened it, stepping out of the building and onto the roof. He twirled his staff wildly releasing the canvas wings attachments all air-bending staff has. He ran forward with the staff behind him like the way a certain guy was crucified. He jumped off the building, letting the air carry him to the Hellicarrier (he has the ship's GPS location), his robe fluttering wildly along the way.
He landed on the Hellicarrier, twirling his staff to return the attachments back into the staff.
His staff was changed. Fury thought a wooden staff won't fair against villains with super strength, so it was kept (and by 'kept' he meant taken forcefully with him kicking and screaming bloody murder) and he was given a new staff. One made from a malleable metal that can withstand major hits from powerhouses like Captain America. They haven't tested the staff's efficiency against someone like the Hulk. They doubt the staff will hold and he seconds that.
The staff still retained its attachments. The staff was now a steel grey that matched his uniform; a skin-tight mesh-armour combination suit that allows him to move around freely and still offer protection from the occasional stray bullets his air-enhanced speed and flexibility can't avoid.
It was mildly surprising to see the state of the Hellicarrier even though he knew at the back of his mind that not even the Hellicarrier can survive an alien invasion.
He placed his staff on the strap placed diagonally across his back as he entered inside. He passed through various busy agents, not bothered to stop and say hi. He walked into the director's office interrupting the conversation he was having with Agent Hill or Maria to some chosen few.
"Aang." Fury said as he stood up to shake Mrs. Hill's hand.
"You should have been back . . . " Mrs. Hill started but stopped when she couldn't complete her sentence. She didn't know long.
"Three months ago, ma'am. I know, Natasha already told me." Aang said, completing her sentence for her.
Fury waited until Mrs. Hill left before saying, "You fought the aliens." as he pointed to the dirt stains and cuts that littered his body.
Aang nodded.
"You will be briefed on what happened later. For now, go and take care of your injuries – rest. I need to see you soon in top shape kid." Fury said.
Aang nodded again, turning his body round so he could leave the office when he stopped, remembering something important he should tell the director.
"Sir . . . Mm . . . " he stumbled over his words, unsure of how to put it.
He felt a reassuring - or close to what Fury could emulate - hand on his shoulder, "You didn't find any leads."
Aang sighed before he comported himself - hands behind his back and legs placed together - and nodded once more. He turned around swiftly, heading straight for the door.
"You know," Fury wondered out loud. "it might be for the best if you stay here."
He left, without once turning to look at the director.
He knew Fury had his best interest in his heart, but damn! Sometimes he really wished he could poke out his eye with his staff, so that his nickname will change from the 'One-Eye Agent' to the 'Blind Agent.'
Aang turned the handle opening the door. He entered his small but comfortable apartment, using his legs to close the door as he peeled off his clothes.
He dumped them on the parlour's sofa, throwing his staff along with it. Nobody would visit him at this time of the day, so he didn't really care where he dropped his fighting gears. He walked naked into his room tearing off the worn-out bandage he had on him and picking up a new roll from his bedside drawer on the way.
He opened his bathroom door, entered it, walked towards his shower before stopping underneath it.
He turned the hot faucet on and immediately felt relaxed as the hot water cascaded down his body, drenching his hair and removing the various accumulated dirt and stress.
After washing himself, he dried his body with a towel and wrapped it round his waist. He stopped in front of the mirror to check the extent of his wounds.
He wasn't a prideful or vain person, but he could honestly say he was good looking. He couldn't compare himself to Sokka or even Zuko, but he was at least near their level. Especially now, after years of rigorous exercise to gain some decent muscle mass. He wasn't buff by any means, he was still lean, though he had lost his baby fat. The Gaang won't recognize him now.
Thinking about what the Gaang will think of him now brought back unwanted memories which lead to unwanted questions. He gripped the sink as questions he didn't want to answer bombarded his head.
What happened after the comet?
What are his friend's doing?
Are they okay?
Did Ozai win?
Are they okay?
Is Appa still around?
ARE THEY OKAY?!
He was brought out of his borderline insane thoughts by the feeling of immense pain originating from his wrist downwards. He looked down to see his sink in ruins; several broken pieces scattered on the floor while the rest were embedded into his very own hand.
He must have been so angry, he . . . No! Don't think about it.
He left the bathroom, making his way towards his bed. He brought out his first aid kit. After cleaning his wounds properly, he tore the bandage out of its packaging and started wrapping the bandages round his injuries. He wrapped the strip of cloth round his head, chest (back), legs and of course his arms making sure to cover his distinctive tattoos and injuries as best as he could. After he was done he went to his wardrobe.
He picked up the first cloth he saw which happened to be a plain polo and jeans. He put on his shoes - a simple trainer - and walked out of his apartment, picking up his phone along the way.
He switched on his phone as he walked down the front steps of his apartment building. He saw he had received a new message.
Even though it might be an ad for a new bow and arrow set, he still opened the app. He touched the screen directly underneath the new message opening it . . . And promptly dropped it in shock.
The phone's screen broke as it contacted the hard ground. It twirled on one spot before falling, the screen facing outwards displaying the message:
From Barton,
Thought I would let you know. Coulson is dead . . .
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