Before you read, please let me know what you think of Lyra's new outlook and persona. It'll help us all out in the long run. And if you know nothing of Lyra, then welcome! Still let me know what you think of it all.

Thank you!

Univerce

First Choice

Pretend, for a moment, like you feel that everything around you isn't right. That you don't belong where you are and that everyone around you feels the same. Now do that while being forced to try and belong, be it by parents, peer pressure, the occasional guilt trip from a commercial that makes you realize you should be thankful for where you are. Whatever. And now throw on top of it a penchant for accidents and danger. Or, more correctly, being prone to it against your will. Hi! That's me in a nutshell.

My name is Lyra, the college student you find walking around randomly or lazing around simply because she has no idea what else to do. On occasion you might find me participating in some random junk the school would come up with, but usually solitude is my preference. Do I sound amazing or what? Not really, right? Well, life could be a lot worse at the moment.

The roommates that my school picked out for me are good people, albeit with their quirks like a Beyoncè fetish or a pink Alpaca. But still, good people with good families, from what they've told me, and raised to be kind. Ish. It really depends on whether or not you insult them or the things they love. One guy had his head beaten over with a PVC pipe that was supposed to be inconspicuously hidden in my wardrobe. Apparently my hiding places need to be rethought up if they found my zombie apocalypse weapon of choice. At least they haven't found my security knife yet. That could be bad.

Anyway, the school I'm enrolled in is okay, despite the small town atmosphere of the city, and is exactly as my family had hoped for me. A place where drinking is hard to get by with when underage and where people know about every scandalous thing happening. The only difference between here and a truly small town is that they don't know about all the amazing things happening as well. All the spreading word is kept to the terrible stuff. Idiots.

All my classes are relatively easy, with the occasional obstacle thrown in to keep the students on their toes. The professors are all well aware of the complacency that many college student develop over extended periods of time and have no qualms taking advantage of it. Then again, with the way some of the kids here on campus act, weeding out a few is probably a good idea. Just last week I caught a few girls chatting about their sex lives and who they plan on marrying. Strangely enough, they all have their eyes on super heroes. Weird much?

"Hello! Are you listening?"

To top it all off, of course, are the friends I've made through the last four years of schooling. My circle is rather small, sure, but they're all people who would happily stand out and go against the crowd instead of going with the flow. And from what they've shown me during our time together, they each manage it with a unique flare.

"Leave her alone, Eve. She's daydreaming again."

"That's the problem," Eve grumbles, having finally pulled my focus back to the real world. "She's always daydreaming. It's like her imagination is being given free reign every ten seconds!"

"It can't be that bad," Arthur denies with a grin. "She's just letting her mind find the next path. She is a writer, after all."

"Which excuses nothing," a third voice jump in.

"Finally!" Eve cheers. "Someone who agrees with me."

My eyes roll at her enthusiasm. "Uncle Nick does not 'agree' with you on anything. He just doesn't think that being a writer is what fuels my spacing. More like…"

"General DNA, actually."

Arthur starts laughing as Eve frowns and pouts at the same time. It's rather funny, but my eyes have turned over my shoulder to my uncle. Strangely enough, he isn't covered in a black trench coat and combat boots. Instead, he's wearing regular clothes, a tee, jeans and sunglasses, looking suited for… Oh my god, is he actually taking a vacation!?

"Just thought I'd check in on my niece," he explains quickly, probably having seen the glint in my eyes. Darn.

"Really, Uncle, you need to take a break!"

He just shakes his head. "Only when the criminals do."

"Which means never," Eve comments smugly. "You should know that better than anyone, Lyra."

"Shut it, Eve," I grumble with a huff of crossing arms.

"As entertaining as this is," my uncle interrupts before my friend can say anything else, "I need to borrow my niece for a few minutes. Maybe longer."

The two in front of me just grin and yank me from the benches we were occupying, sending me off with Uncle Nick without a second thought. Well, they do deal with me an awful lot. They were bound to get tired of my nonsense eventually, although part of me was hoping it would take a bit longer. Life just isn't as fun when you have no one to torment or tease about anything. Especially if you have no one to be teased unsuccessfully by. That's one of the perks of being me – teasing doesn't really work.

"What's up, Uncle?"

"I'm sorry about this, kiddo, but it's about time," he sighs heavily. "I need to pull you out of school."

Despite how amazing that sounds, mostly because school doesn't usually agree with me, my eye widen in shock. If there was one thing my parents were insistent on in their will, it was that my education continue after high school, no matter what. Even if continuing on meant giving up a few perks like going off with my uncle to wherever. The only reason that didn't happen was because of how much my uncle respected them and their wishes. Not to mention the numerous times my mother has been proven right with her intuition and whatnot.

Thus my uncle enrolled me in a top notch college on the east coast, ignoring my protests about it, and set me up in the dorms. The move in had been a little weird, sure, and only because he had some really weirdly dressed people doing it, but overall the first year had been… God, I hate admitting this… Ugh, it was great.

"What's wrong, Uncle?"

He fixes that one good eye behind his sunglasses on me, almost trying to analyze me. "Do you remember all those people that kept coming around for me? To check on you and the university?"

"Yeah. Now that I think about it," I start musing, "isn't it about time that one guy came around? What was his name… Barton, right?"

"The usual," Uncle nods. "Do you remember the little logos that were always on their jackets and suits?"

"A silver, block-styled eagle on a black, circular background with a silver ring surrounding it… Right?"

As always when listening to my descriptions, my uncle smiles. "Impressive as usual. I still don't get why your parents didn't actually change your name to Sherlock when you were little. It suits you."

"Ha ha, Uncle Nick. Back to your point, please."

"Right… Lyra, what would you say to putting what your father taught you to good use?"

… "That depends on what you mean."

"The martial arts, kiddo. If you could, would you use what you know, what your father taught you, to do good things? Despite what those good things might require?"

Oh, tough question.

"Are we sure about this?"

"We aren't the ones making the choice here, Dr. Banner. However we feel, our opinions take no place in the decision. It's up to the Director and this girl he's gone to see."

"I don't think we can really tell a god 'no,' anyway. Despite how screwed up what he's asking sounds."

"My father would never ask this if he was unaware of the consequences. I promise you that. Whatever may happen to her, she will have the protection of myself and my friends so long as she is on Asgard."

"And when she isn't? Who's to say, if she does this, that he won't cheat his way through it and come after her when it's over?"

"We can sit here and debate it all we want. The fact is that Director Fury and this kid are the ones making this decision. He decided to ask her just in case, to make sure that we aren't throwing out a possibility because of our own morals."

"You sound rather upset, Barton. Any particular reason why?"

"Shut it, Stark. He's got every right to be upset. We're talking about a girl against a demigod, and a damn good liar at that. For all we know, he's manipulated this chance."

"Well, Rogers, what about you? Why are you so bent out of shape?"

"Enough, all of you!"

The entire room of heroes went silent. Standing in the door, dressed back into his usual uniform of all black, the director glares with his one good eye.

"She made her choice," he explains quietly, moving to the head of the table in the room. "Thor, come back in about a week. Her one request was to finish this semester before being… flown off to 'some magical land of sparkling fairies and killer butterflies'."

"Is that what she really said?" Tony asks quickly. "'Cause if it is, I've got to meet this girl."

Thor's reaction is a bit more focused. "I shall inform my father immediately!"

"Slow down, Thor. And no, Stark, you can't meet her," Fury commands severely. "That was another request. She is to be left alone until the end of her finals for the semester. Besides, there's something else you and the good doctor will be working on in the meantime."

"Oo! Fun."

"Stark, drop the idiot routine."

"Don't ruin my fun, Romanov."

"Pay attention, all of you! Despite her going off to Asgard willingly with Thor, she has a few worries about this job she's taking. First and foremost being her own safety."

"I thought her file listed basic understanding of multiple martial arts," Bruce comments critically, looking at the file in the middle of the table. "Plus a weak mutation?"

"It does," Fury assures him. "But what good does basic martial arts do against a demigod who uses a magic glow stick? Little to nothing. She doesn't think that what we're asking will work if Thor is around her constantly, and she doesn't want to be left alone without any form of protection. That's where you and Stark come in."

Tony grins happily. "She wants us to make her a new toy!"

"No, she doesn't. Frankly, she thinks basic SHIELD equipment will suffice. But I'm not taking chances, so see what you can do. No full on suits, Stark. Minimal tech. And preferably something that will actually last in Asgard."

Bruce's brain instantly comes up with a few thoughts. "Solar powered, or at least solar charged, and portable. That really limits us, especially with only a week-long timeframe."

"Yeah, well, you get two days with her at the end of the week to see how everything works. Be happy she at least agreed to that. She isn't really one for meeting and dealing with new people," the director huffs with a pointed look to Tony.

"What?"

"So then," Thor starts, staring at the director, "she will be coming to Asgard with some form of protection for herself? I'm not sure if my father will be alright with this."

"Then it's a good thing you have a week," the director points out. "Head back to Asgard, see what you can do about that. If he says no, make him see reason. Tell him she won't help if she can't at least bring her own form of protection, whatever it may be."

Thor sits back in his chair, thinking deeply, while the briefing is adjourned. The only two who had actually been quiet during the little question and answer are the first ones out the door, easily catching Fury before he can get too far. Reasons being the girl's decision and everything she's been informed of. Not to mention the relation she has.

"Are you sure about this, sir?" Steve asks as soon as they catch him. "She's all the family you've got left. You don't have to-"

"She's over 18, Captain. And if she found out that she could have done something to help me and, in a way, the world, she would never have forgiven me. I would rather take the chance of her saying yes, which has happened, than let her be upset with me."

"But what about her parents?" Clint points out. "They wanted her to get a good degree. It was in their wills."

Director Fury sighs heavily for what he feels is the millionth time that day. "I know," he mutters. "But the thing about that part of my family is how devoted they are. You could place them in a warzone, bleeding out, with two broken legs, and hallucinating and they'd still do their best to complete their objectives."

"So that's it then?" Clint groans. "She made up her mind and there's no going back."

"That's Lyra for you," Steve sighs wearily. "So who's picking her up at the end of the week?"

"I am," Director Fury declares. "Agent Barton, you know Lyra's style better than anyone else. Go with Stark and Banner and help them with those weapons she needs. And Rogers, I want you heading over to the university first thing tomorrow morning to check in on her. I know she wants to be left alone, but something tells me she could use a friendly face around."

Both men tense immediately at the last comment. With a quick look at each other, they silently agree to bring up the subject they had avoided for the better part of a month. On the girl's request, of course. Otherwise the director would have known immediately when they found out.

"Uh, sir? Did there happen to be a guy around with dark hair, maybe five nine and wearing flashy clothes?" Rogers guesses from memory.

"Around the campus pond. Why?"

"Crap," Clint grumbles.

"He may or may not be bugging her for a date. We tried to tell her it was harassment, but she instantly claimed-"

"Security knife," the three state together.

Fury rubs at his good eye, thinking this over. Lyra is definitely capable of handling herself, and that knife he gave her is known of by the campus security and everything. If something were to happen, there would be nothing at all to worry about. Except maybe the fact that the knife is a tactical knife and the guy in question has apparently been harassing his niece at what sounds like every opportunity. If it wasn't for her friends and himself being there, she very well could have been dealing with the guy at that moment as well.

"Rogers, head down there tonight. There's a safe house a few blocks from campus you can stay in. I want you spending time with her, but make it seem like…"

"Make it seem like you're her boyfriend," Clint suggests. "Gets him off her back and lets us keep an eye on her all week. New boyfriend, loads of time spent together, and a few hours off campus to ease her nerves on finals. Win, win, and win."

"Sounds good," Fury mutters, turning back down the hall. "And keep me updated."

My absolute favorite flavor of ramen is the regular beef. If my baseless conclusion is correct, it happens to be the most generic version of ramen out there. Chicken happens to be too… well, chicken and the other flavors tend to be a bit more exotic. You have pork flavored, which people don't really think of, and there's also shrimp, which you would never really think to put in a flavor packet for anything processed. There are, of course, other flavors like roast beef and creamy chicken, along with others like chili and a rather racist one called 'oriental.' But really, when you think of something like ramen, the flavor 'beef' is the first one to come to mind.

Holding a pair of chopsticks, my hand methodically moves noodles from the bowl in the other hand to my mouth. When a Japanese food place opened up near my home, my parents made a point to teach me how to use a pair of chopsticks so that, when we went, we would all be using them. They said it was just something fun to do, trying to eat a plate of food with just two sticks of wood. Eventually, after figuring out how to use them, part of me agreed. The other part was always ticked that there was leftover food on my plate.

The miracle diet called chopsticks. You can't eat as fast with them if you aren't as used to them. Over time, I got past this little obstacle.

"Yo, Ly! He's at the door," one of my roommates, a girl name Sasha, informs me when someone knocks on the door. "And he's got a bouquet of stupid flowers. Aren't yellow roses for a grandmother or something? Or was that white?"

"White is for purity, yellow is for friendship," I correct her. "Often people mistake the yellow for sick people, and in one book I read white rosebuds meant… whore? I think it was something like that…"

"You're just full of tact," my other roommate, Natalia, chuckles, her eyes glued to a portable game system. "Why don't you just use that knife already?"

Sasha agrees, aggravation clear on her face as another knock resounds through the room. With a heavy sigh, and a reassuring pat on my roommates shoulder, my hand yanks open the door to see the one person no one ever wants to. The 'secret' admirer who can't take a hint. After leaving who knows how many clues to his feelings all over my desks in class and on my room door, he finally fessed up to it. My roommates slapped him for ruining the door decs they came up with while I just told him I was flattered. Not interested, but flattered. And even though those words have left my mouth at least 15 times, he still doesn't get it.

"Hello, Joshua," I drone, starting my mental clock – he rambles on and on sometimes.

"Good evening, Lyra. Here!"

Annoyingly, he shoves the rose bouquet into my hand, which is expertly tossed behind me to Sasha, who catches them and smartly places them on my bed. It's best not to piss him off at the moment, especially with the way his tactics have been escalating. Just last week, when my friend went with me to visit my parents' graves, he came by and demanded to know where I was, or else. In simpler words, he's bordering stalker with violent tendencies.

"So, what are you up to?"

"Well-" I begin, only to stop at the sight that steps up behind him.

"What are you doing?" the newcomer asks, looking both suspicious and annoyed.

Joshua promptly turns around, coming face to face with one of the many people my uncle has watching out for me. Steve stares at the guy, dressed up in his old army jacket, a pair of jeans and the usual white t-shirt. Like always, his hair is combed neatly into that 40's hairstyle he seems to never get tired of and the only part of him that's new is his tennis shoes. It was the one thing that my roommates and I managed to get him up to date on – he actually agreed that they were far more comfortable than the things he used to wear. We all felt very proud of ourselves.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Joshua snips moodily. Yay, there's his real self peeking through.

"No," Steve frowns, eyes hardening, "but I think I know you. You're the guy who's been harassing Lyra since last year, aren't you?"

Despite the annoyance clear in the good captain's voice, Joshua glares right back. It's almost like he has no sense of self-preservation at the moment. Then again, considering how obsessed he seems to be, that is somewhat believable when all factors are considered. Here's a very good looking man coming to visit me that he knows little to nothing of and he finally has a chance to 'stake his claim' to the world. Dear god, this is going to suck.

"What's up, Steve?" I ask patiently, trying to defuse the problem.

"Just came to get you," he answers cheerily, completely ignoring Joshua from the second the words leave my mouth. "Was wondering if you're too busy with studying to come spend some time with me before you leave."

"Leave?" Joshua grumbles. "Leave where?"

"Nowhere," I answer quickly with a look to a sheepish Steve. "And I am a little busy with studying. My history teacher gave us a bunch of essay questions that we need to study for."

"What timeframe?" Steve questions instantly.

It's then that the realization hits me and a smile crosses my face. "World War II, actually. Would you mind too much?"

"Of course not!" he denies quickly. "Why wouldn't I want to help you out?"

That solves that problem.

"Oh my god, Lyra! Are you seriously setting up another last second date!"

Wait, what?

"Seriously, if you two don't start getting these things set up ahead of time, how are we supposed to know when we can have boys over?"

What the hell are they talking about? My eyes return to my roommates, both of which have knowing and what seems to be understanding looks in their eyes. Clearly they've spotted something that I've missed, because they also have their game faces on, the ones they use for acting. Why did my roommates have to be drama students?

"It's alright," Sasha 'forgives' instantly. "We'll stick to ourselves for the night."

"Yeah, we don't need any boys to have fun," Natalia agrees, arms circling around Sasha's shoulders.

Oh, god, they're going with the lesbian act again…

"Right," Steve mutters behind me.

"Wait a second," Joshua finally demands. "What 'date?' All he did was offer some help for homework!"

"Sure, you keep thinking that," Sasha sighs. "He's so delusional," she whispers loudly to Natalia, who nods quickly.

My eyes roll at their antics. They saw a chance to get rid of him for me and they're taking it like it was free tickets to a rock concert. Thinking of that, my eyes move back to Steve, who has an innocent look on his face, slightly blushing from their little act. While his old fashioned ideals and beliefs can be adorable sometimes, his reactions can get on my nerves every so often. But the point here is that he looks far too innocent right now. So either he planned this, sort of, or he was taking the chance he saw in front of him as well. Joshua has been a bit annoying over the last two years, though… What the hell…

"Can we go now?" I ask sigh. "I'm hungry and ramen noodles barely fill a growing girl."

"Oh, right," Steve perks up. "Let's get going. Grab your bag and we can work at my place."

Dear god, he made that sound so innocent despite how terrible Joshua is obviously taking it.

"What the hell?" said boy demands quickly.

Bag in hand, and key to dorm around my neck, I give a light glare to my triumphant looking roommates and step into the hallway, forcing Joshua back. Once the door is shut, Steve wastes little time in taking my bag away from me like the 40's gentleman he is.

"Ready?"

"Yup."

"Hold on a second!"

Taking pity, my eyes land on Joshua. "Yes?"

"What just happened?"

"Well…" I trail slightly, forcing myself to make the decision since he won't leave with just a slight assumption. "I'm going out with him… What else?"

Steve quickly takes hold of my hand while the guy in front of us gapes, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he scrambles for words. A few moments later, we're in the elevator and headed down toward the lobby. Once we're out of the building, my eyes stare a pointed look at the soldier, who has the decency to look a little ashamed.

"Your uncle found out and wanted it dealt with."

"He saw him this afternoon, didn't he?"

"Yeah…"

"And he figured it out with you and Clint as confirmation."

"Sorry…"

"It's alright," I sigh. "He was starting to get overbearing anyway."

70 years frozen in the ocean don't seem to matter when it comes to Steve's cooking. He probably cooked this good back then as he does now. Either that, or he just has that natural talent to make a master chef absolutely jealous and women swoon. How he doesn't actually have a girlfriend is beyond me.

"So, this essay of yours," Steve suggests, smiling in amusement.

"Don't look at me like that," I grumble, blushing. "I'm a college student. We don't exactly eat home cooked meals that often."

Annoyingly, he laughs and points to my bag near the door. When we first stepped into the safe house that my uncle placed him in, Steve explained everything that he and the rest of his team went over in a briefing. Everything from the discussion before uncle had arrived to the weapons that Tony Stark and Bruce Banner themselves would be making. He even went over the last minute plan to deal with my guy problems at school. After that, he patiently answered each and every question I had about my uncle's work while he cooked something up in the kitchen, assuming he knew the answer to begin with. If he didn't, he told me so and gave me his best guess instead. Random side note, he just reheated some roast beef and made a new pot of mashed potatoes for me and my classic craving stomach.

"I'm supposed to write about the effects on the populations and cultures of the nations involved in the war. We're required to explain Germany as one of three nations, the other two being of our own personal choice. After that is another essay where we're asked to state and provide evidence for who won the war."

"Alright, let's start with the second one. The first is just basic research and we both know computers are not my strong point."

"Agreed…"

"Well? Let's hear it," Steve prompts, pointing to the essay. "Who won and why?"

Part of me really didn't want to answer that question because that part knew he would agree and would be extremely upset about it. Although, considering he said the 'why' part, that means defending it is allowed, right? Would he sit through the entire explanation without interrupting me out of anger and outrage? Hell, is that even possible for a veteran of World War II? They were all traumatized in some way, and Steve's only handling everything as he is because of trauma therapy provided by my uncle's organization…

"Well… Promise you'll hear me out?" I ask quietly, giving him a pleading look.

As if understanding what's about to come out of my mouth, Steve tenses and scratches at his neck.

"Alright," he agrees a few long moments later. "Just… well…"

"I'll try to make it quick," I promise. "Personally, despite what the victors of the war say and the fact that they made the treaty and 'won' the war, I believe that… Germany was the real winner. Even though the other nations managed to put an end to the war with the Nagasaki and Hiroshima bombings, Germany's concentration camps succeeded in their original intention of Hitler's plans. They systematically eradicated a number of Jews and outcasts scattered through Germany and other European nations that were annexed or invaded at the time.

"Furthermore, while Germany was forced into that treaty and into working purely for the sake of the other nations, they didn't really receive much punishment. They may have been pushed into paying for the other nations' debts, but they were helped by America to regain their financial standing, eventually leading them to join two prominent, international groups: the UN and the European Union… You can blow up now…"

Steve just shakes his head. "I disagree with you on the victory part, but I do see your point. Germany didn't actually lose that war… If anyone did, it was Japan."

"They're still feeling the aftereffects of the radiation," I nod sadly. "That's one of the reasons why nuclear weapons like the atom bomb have been outlawed worldwide by UN declaration…"

"You're a pretty smart kid, you know that?" Steve grins. "And pretty gutsy, too. Most SHIELD agents won't go up against me because of how scared they are of my strength."

"Yeah," I giggle. "You can be pretty intimidating."

For the rest of the night, the entirety of which I spend at the safe house at Steve's insistence, we joke back and forth about random things. Every so often we come up with some joke at Tony Stark's expense, or talk about a funny moment from our pasts. After a while, Steve just starts telling me about the 40's in general and the things he enjoyed back then. It's not every day you get to talk to a man who lived decades ago. Plus, it was pretty enlightening on all the drama and plastic surgery happening everywhere.

Simpler times…