Kimmy
Hi! This is my first work of fanfiction, and I'm so excited for you to read it! I would love CONSTRUCTIVE comments and suggestions for future stories and installments of this one story.
This takes place sometime after the first Avengers film but before Age of Ultron, following the story of Kimmy Miles, a 16-year-old girl living in the foster system in Brooklyn with some…ahem…unusual abilities that attract the attention of some other unusual people living in New York…
To be clear, I do not own Marvel. I wish I did, but I don't.
As far as she could remember Kimmy had three objectives in living: Keep the abilities hidden. Do not let anyone discover them. If someone does, run and hide. Everything else she did stemmed off of those three simple objectives.
She didn't know who had given those orders to her though. All her life had consisted of was being shifted from one foster home to another, up and down the east coast, never staying in any one place more than six months, her case worker getting more and more frustrated with Kimmy's ability to get into trouble with her foster guardians. "When will you just accept that you need them?" Mrs. Cowell would say exasperatedly after picking Kimmy up from the latest home. "If you would just obey their rules you might even be adopted, for all you know!"
Lies, Kimmy would think as she leaned her head against the cool glass of the car window. She just couldn't control…them.
It seemed, however, that this house in Brooklyn could be different. Maybe. The foster father, Carlisle, and the weaker, submissive wife Doris let her do whatever she wanted, so long as she didn't break the law. As long as she stayed out of Carlisle's way when he drank, they got along decently. It had been four months without major incident, and maybe she could even break her record.
For her part, Kimmy was content to take long walks around the streets of Brooklyn, occasionally scrounging up enough loose change from the coins she would find on the street to take a ferry to Manhattan to see the sights of New York City, which was pretty well reconstructed after the strange phenomenon eight months ago, when it had been severely damaged in some sort of invasion.
Strolling casually down a main road two blocks from her "house," hands shoved firmly in her pockets, Kimmy contemplated for the millionth time the news articles and rumors she had viewed about what had happened. Some people say it was 9/11 all over again. Others claimed it was the Russians that had sent a missile toward the city. Still…others claimed something far crazier, the ones that had evacuated last. Aliens. And superheroes.
Superheroes in Manhattan? Could that even be possible? she wondered again. Then she shook her head, grinning slightly, dark red hair falling in her eyes. She knew full well there was at least one person in the world that could do crazy things. In her pockets, her left hand grew warm and her right hand cooled instinctively, which she quickly quelled by focusing on the clouds above her.
She turned a corner and began to head further east, toward the ocean, passing adjacent allies between buildings. Maybe she could dip her toes into the water today from the fishing docks, if she was careful, or else watch the boats speed back and forth across the bay.
Suddenly, a stifled cry reached her ears, followed by three rough voices snarling unintelligibly. Instantly, Kimmy's heart started to pound against her ribs and her pace quickened, the voices coming closer. Please no, she prayed. Not again…
As she approached the entrance of another ally to her right Kimmy slowed and pressed against a wall before peering around the corner into the darkened way, assessing the situation with a sort of resigned frustration.
Three men and a woman. The men were dressed scruffily and had stains on their clothes and teeth. Two were holding a curvy middle-aged woman in a jogger's outfit against a wall while the third leered at her, hands going through her pockets thoroughly. One of the two holding her had a hand over her mouth despite her protests.
Kimmy turned away and leaned against the wall, head in hands she could already feel the change beginning. You can't help everyone, Kimmy, don't screw this up for yourself. This is a good place, you'll be seen and caught, you'll have to move again. Don't do this…
Around the corner one of the men, presumably the ones holding the woman, groaned impatiently. "Hurry up, I want my chance to feel her up." The cries of the women became more frantic.
That did it. With a glance around to make sure the street was empty, Kimmy flared, the left hand igniting. Using her right she created a sphere of flames before hurling herself around the corner and flinging it at the leader, sparks flying behind it like a comet. The stranger turned just in time, eyes widening as he yelped and dove out of the wave. The fireball exploded into the side of the brick building in a shower of flame and spark.
Kimmy focused on the moisture in the air, thickening it, spinning her hands around each other until the right one tingled oddly, and a watery sphere formed between them. She lifted her arms in the air and swirled it around, forming a larger and larger vertex. The other hand created another fireball and flung that into the air, streaming around the watery storm above. The men shrieked in horror and took off running down the ally, but Kimmy pursued them, feet rising off the ground and hurtling after them, catching up easily and knocking them off their feet with the force of her flight.
The cowered pathetically on the ground, sobbing hysterically. "Stay away!" one screamed, eyes bulging. "Don't hurt me!"
With a flick of her wrists the fiery, wet vortex flew toward them in a tidal wave. They howled as the fire streamed around them, coming near enough to scorch their clothes but not close enough to cause any true damage. Kimmy finished off with the wave of water, soaking them and washing them further down the ally, around the corner, and out of sight, sobbing all the way.
And instantly, it was over. Kimmy touched back to the ground swaying slightly and the flames and water dissipated. Her head spun sickeningly as she leaned against the wall to catch her breath. "What have I done?" she whispered shakily.
Suddenly she remembered the woman, the jogger she had rescued. "Son of a…" Kimmy groaned before rushing back to the scene of the crime. The woman was gone, probably racing to call the police about some monster of flame and water coming to kill her and her attackers. To make matters worse, when she glanced up the sides of the buildings she spotted a large black and white neck-looking thing with a black bulb on the bottom sticking out the top of the right one. Security cameras. A dark pit formed in her stomach as the full weight of what she had done hit her painfully.
Got to go, got to go, flashed through her mind hard, propelling her feet into action and speeding her out to the street. She stopped at the mouth of the ally in moment of indecisiveness of where to go. It was at that moment that she realized someone was watching her from across the street. A man, tall, lean but muscular, with blonde hair, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt under a brown leather jacket. His piercing blue eyes were wide with shock and interest as he stared at her.
Pure adrenaline shot Kimmy down the street toward home, legs pumping. "Hey!" The man called after her, and she saw him following peripherally. "Wait! Miss?"
Her three basic instructions that had been imbedded in her head as long as she could remember flashed across her vision: Keep the abilities hidden. Do not let anyone discover them. If someone does, run and hide.
She had screwed up the first two. It was time to try her hand at the third.
As he sped after the red-haired girl, Steve Rogers took his cell phone out of his pocket and fumbled with the screen to find the right contact: Director Fury. Cursing the complicated technology, he figured it out at last and dialed. "Captain?" the deep voice on the other end said casually.
"Fury, you'll never guess what I saw," Steve half-shouted, vaulting over a café table as the girl tried to take a detour. "I think we may have a problem. Requesting backup on 4th in Brooklyn."
Thanks for reading! More to come, though I'm not sure how regularly I can publish. Please comment on what you'd like to see next!