Hi, everyone!

One day, I will write a story that doesn't begin with a prologue. Today is not that day...

So, this is a companion to The Renascentia Trilogy. It takes place roughly midway through HeartFrost and tells of what exactly the Cap was getting up to that Tony mentioned in Chapter 15. This story will mostly focus on Steve, but we'll see the rest of the characters, as well. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

Theme of the Book: Reborn ~ Max Cameron

Prologue

It was the night of the new moon. It was also late into the night. Two signs that the young girl walking home from the end of her shift should have taken her friend's offer to take her home. But she hadn't wanted to give him any false hope that she was interested in him, so she had declined. She should have known better.

The streets were dark due to the broken lights lining the sidewalks. Few cars passed by and even fewer people were out. So when the girl passed to close to a seemingly empty and was pulled into the shadow by a large hand, no one noticed the change.

Another hand clapped over her mouth as she made to scream. She couldn't tear away from the grip and, as she felt the cold touch of metal under her chin, she began to go still in dread. Hot breath ghosted over her neck as the man lowered his head to whisper in her ear.

"I'm gonna take my hand away but if you scream, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head, tears beginning to run down her face. He pushed her against the brick wall roughly, his hand falling from her face to pull a dark rag from his pocket. Hiccupping sobs escaped her throat as she began to realize there was no escape. A hand snapped across the side of her face and she fell silent. The man stuffed the rag into her mouth and grinned crookedly. She shivered in disgust as his fingers closed around the waistband of her jeans. It was over. And she knew it. But both froze at the sound of a voice.

"Ray Irving. Adding another notch to your belt, are you?"

The man, Irving, looked over his shoulder and the girl caught a glimpse of the voice's source.

Leaning against the wall opposite of them, stood a woman roughly five and a half feet. She was relatively slender and hardly imposing in her black hooded jacket and form-fitting pants. A few dark waves fell from her hood and only her lips and half of her nose were visible. And yet, despite the almost fragile look to her, there was something off. Something about the woman radiated with power.

"How do you know my name?"

The mystery woman straightened up, pulling what looked like a file from a pocket inside her jacket, "I've been chasing you for a few weeks now, Ray. You certainly know how to disappear."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Twenty-seven cases of rape, all linked to a man with the same eagle-handled knife and a funny scar on his hip. You've evaded the police for so long, they've almost given up hope. A shame they didn't notice the pattern."

Irving's eyes narrowed on the woman, "Clever girl. But still stupid enough to think you could change anything."

"You'd be surprised. I'm not at all like you," the woman said with a smirk, replacing the file with a pair of handcuffs. "Now. I'll give you a choice. You can either let this woman go and cuff yourself or you can try to fight me and thoroughly humiliate yourself."

She tossed the cuffs at Irving and he watched them in amusement before returning his attention to the woman. Pushing his victim aside, he charged at the lithe woman and raised his knife. Before he could come within three feet of her, he suddenly stumbled and glanced down at the pavement. It was as if the asphalt had converted to liquid, encasing his legs up to his mid-calf.

She approached him quickly, kicking him hard in the mouth with the black army-standard combat boots she wore. He swiped at her with his knife, but her hand closed around the blade as it was as sharp as a letter opener. The metal turned red and the man screamed as it burned his skin, letting go of the handle. The blade itself melted in her hand, the handle falling to the floor with a resounding clatter.

As he struggled to escape the liquid asphalt he was trapped in, the woman walked over to the discarded handcuffs and back to stand before him. Irving struck her hard across the cheek as she kneeled before him. The woman hardly flinched and the man pulled his now bloodied and broken hand back with a sharp yell.

She grabbed his wrist roughly and cuffed his hands together. With an angered snarl, she yanked him out of the asphalt and over to the fire escape. Irving's victim, who had been too scared to move, watched in awe as the woman's hand, and the chain on the handcuffs, slid through the metal pipe on the fire escape's ladder. She gave him one final punch, something looking suspiciously like a tooth falling to the floor, before returning her attention to girl cowering against the opposite wall.

The woman approached her slowly, hands raised as if to show that she was unarmed. She kneeled in front of the girl, taking hold of her shoulders gently.

"Did he hurt you?"

Suddenly, hysteria flooded the girl's mind and she began to stutter out her thoughts.

"I didn't see him – what did you do…? I can't believe – oh, God."

"Are you hurt?"

"You're not human!"

"Do you wanna go out for drinks?"

Stunned by the sudden strange question, the girl stopped short, "What?"

"Are. You. Alright?" she asked, enunciating each word carefully.

Slowly, the girl nodded in answer.

"Do you have a phone on you?"

The girl's eyes darted towards her discarded purse laying a few feet away. Nodding in understanding, the woman helped her to her feet before retrieving the handbag.

"Good. Call the police and let them know where you are," she commanded, thrusting the bag into the girl's arms.

The girl dug through her purse shakily, pulling her phone out. She never took her eyes off the woman, watching as she stuffed the files she had held earlier into Irving's leather jacket. He flinched away from her but she didn't acknowledge the movement. A second later, she pulled what looked like a tarot card out of her pocket and dropped it at his feet.

The girl gazed at the woman in wonder, "Who are you?"

Though the woman looked up, half of her face was still obscured, "Like you said: not human."

The girl watched as the woman walked out of the alley without another word, her hands stuffed into her pockets. Curiosity getting the better of her, she glanced over at the card left at Irving's feet. It looked hand-painted, a woman holding a book in one hand and a beaker in the other dominated the surface. A red ribbon was painted onto the bottom of the card, curling gold lettering written across the scarlet. From where she stood, the girl could just barely make them out.

The Alchemist.