OKAY- before you read this book, please let me claify some things.

AND FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. THERE IS SO MUCH GORE. AND SO MUCH FIGHTING. UGH. I HAVE KILLED MANY PEOPLE IN THE MAKING OF THIS BOOK (depends on whether you want to know if it was in the book, or out.)

THERE IS LANGUAGE. SORRY.

A few more things. SADLY, FANFICTION DOESN'T HAVE THE FANDOM FOR THIS BOOK, SO THE NEXT BEST THING IS AVENGERS. THIS BOOK HAS MULTIPULE FANDOMS IN IT. IT INCULDES X MEN, SPIDERMAN, DEADPOOL, THE FANTASTIC FOUR, AND POST CAPTAIN AMERICA 2.

There is yoai in here, and as stated above, NOT EXPLICIT. They're just dudes together. I don't even have a kissing scene in this! (And I am two chapters from finishing it! So yeah, no kissing. Mentions a make out, but that's all.) The following ships are these- Tony/Steve, Natasha/Bruce, Clint/Pepper, Logan/Rouge, Peter/Wade, Richard/Susan, and the all important, my OC is shipless. Mainly because she admires the packaging from the distance.

MY OC IS FREAKING INSANE MAN, so yeah. Just so you know.

...

For Keverbloom and mktmad, my friends who lift me up. And the only crazy ones to actually ask for my writing to read.

Not to be cliche or anything, but this is the story of how I died. Well, technically, it's the story of my life. Because isn't every life end with death? So… don't all autobiographies tell the story of how they lived and died? Well, I started this off with an awesome sentence.

Yeah, I should probably tell you that this isn't a regular autobiography. First off, only important people do them, and honestly, I find them a waste of paper. Only because I find that the oh-so-important-man-from-history-ate-fried-fish-omg-we-should-panic a little redundant. But when have I ever find time to actually sit down and read one? Yeah. So this isn't exactly going to be in the 'guidelines' of a biography. Ooh, better write that down… done.

Actually….. I don't even think I'm writing this down. I can't see anything. I don't feel any sensations. I know I am dead. But this is the first time that I've died died. This isn't the first time I've died. I've actually died… a lot. (Honestly, I feel like the Winchesters.) So I'm probably making this all up in my head. But I guess it's A-O.K to narrate my own life. I might even add a few notes along the way.

Oh, I should probably start that the beginning. Um… Okay… My name is Classified. I am seriously not joking with you, my freaking name is Classified. My parents had a great sense of humor when naming me, so I gotta say I don't see much humor in it right now. The full name is Classified J. Walkers, but I don't actually give my name to anybody. I just say that my name is Cass and I'm an orphan. Both of which is technically true. But if I really want to shit with somebody, I give them my name. Then they are all like 'Classified. Seriously? I am a level five agent give me your freaking name man' and then I laugh and give them Cass. It's quite amusing somewhat. (Not that anybody has ever actually said that to me. But I know of a man who said something similar. It made me laugh, a huge feat.)

Um, so let's go some more basics. My family consists of two older brothers, a younger brother, and two loving parents. My two older brother's name's were Sean and Chris, and boy, did they teach me some things. I mostly remember them being tough asses who I could whoop at a moment's notice. I believe that's where I got my fighting streak. My younger brother's name was Toby, and he was my pet. That's where I get my bossy side from. Mostly also because he looked up to me, and also he was trying to get my pout down. The one that made me the victim and my brother's the culprits. My parents worked 9-5 shifts, meaning I had plenty of time torturing various babysitters that my parents had hired. We had about a new one each week. I don't really remember much about my parents except they came home smelling like gunpowder occasionally.

I suppose, everything fell apart around the time I was five years old. A lot happened in that year. I suppose I shall spit them out.

When I was five years old, I got my own room. I was a big girl who got her own space, which was sweet! Lets see, I also decided to become a disney princess, and all of my brothers were going to be my servants.

Aged five was the year I thought pink was the new black. And I cut my own hair, making it look choppy. I didn't let anybody near my head to fix my botched up job.

When I was five years old, I met the Winter Soldier for the first time as he wrenched the steering wheel from my dad's hands. It was also the year I had gotten into my first car accident.

I was five years old when I died for the first time. I still remember feeling so-so cold. I remember waking up after dying. It hurt like a bitch. (Still does.)

I was freaking five when the Winter Soldier took me to Hydra, simply because he had no idea how to kill me. And trust me, he tried many many times. I just kept on coming back. I still can't remember how many times he put me down, because he would try a different type of torture before I was fully awake.

When I was five, I was taught how to shoot a fully automated weapon. I could hit the target's with speed and accuracy. I was taught there was nothing good in life. I was sent on a mission and took down a kind-hearted target that had a thing for little girls.

Half a decade into my life, I enjoyed seeing a life end at my hand. Ohmygoditssobeautifuliwanttokill.

I was five years old when I figured out that I was a mutant. And a dangerous one at that.

Let's see, let's skip a few years. Nothing really important about them, except when I was 18, Hydra fell with Shield. A psychotic murderer on the loose and hiding with a pile of bodies building up wherever I go was pretty stupid of me. I got captured within three months of the helicarriers falling. Anyways, let's go back to basics.

My name is Classified, and I am now 22. My current occupation? Convict. Isn't this fun?

Reviewers get a machete.