Fight The Good Fight

by Loki Zentra

Dena Howlett never forgot where she came from. She never let herself forget all of the pain of losing all her family, including the girl she called her sister. Years have passed since Steve Rogers came back from his icy grave. Now, it's time for Dena to pick up her sister's mantle and take orders from the Avengers. Can she let herself trust them after all the abuse she's taken?

1. Who I Am

My mother had been one hell of a fighter. She was a regular at Hell House. She wanted me to be just like her. Once I started walking, she started training me. When I was five, she took me to Hell House to watch her fight other mercs. I had to study her movements and the movements of her opponents. She would fight me, making me learn faster. By the time I was eight, she took me with her on missions. I had killed sixteen men before my ninth birthday. I remember she bought a golden locket; a gift for my first kill. I made a cut on my arm for every kill; a scar to remember.

She died on a mission in Africa. I was nine. I took some missions from Hell House on my own to keep a little food in my belly, but, even with my fast growing reputation, no one wanted a kid in the killing business. Just my luck, the bastards had morals. I wound up on the streets.

Sabretooth was my saving grace, if you could ever call him that. Sure, he treated me like shit, beat me black and blue, and used me as his sex toy, but he fed and clothed me. He gave me a place to sleep. He protected me. I didn't know any better; I thought he was a god, my god. I learned, however, that he was the Devil.

He used me as a spy; my mutation made me a perfect pawn. I never figured out what he did with the info I got him; I decided quickly that I did not want to know. He treated me the way he did, and I was valuable; I didn't want to even imagine what he did to the people he didn't like.

The last person he sent me to spy on was planning to kill a teenaged girl. I gave him everything I learned, but it was never enough. That was the last time he ever beat me. That as the day I was saved.

Wolverine did not seem like the type of person to save little orphans from the big, cruel world. He didn't seem the person to care; but he did. He took me back to the Xavier institute, and well, you know the rest of the story. It's been several years since my sister, Siobhan Analya Howlett, died. I was ten years old then. I am 19 now. Everything's changed, but I can't decide if it's changed for the better or not. That's for you to decide, I guess. I am Dena Howlett. This is my story.