"We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all." -Andrew, The Breakfast Club


Bailey Fitzgerald wouldn't say she had a particularly easy life. In a world that could seem to accept a man in a tin-suit being a superhero, or accept a man who'd been frozen for over seventy years back into society, or completely believe Norse gods can just fall from the sky, you'd think the subject of "mutants" would be just as easy to swallow. But that wasn't the case. Bailey Fitzgerald's life wasn't particularly easy. After finding out she was a mutant at an early age, she'd been subjected to quite a few experiments in her life. That was where Bailey's fear of hospitals came from. The white walls, the needles, the constant beeping of the monitors and machines, the smell of antiseptic—it would be enough to drive the strongest men insane. Luckily, Bailey was able to escape. She did go into a fit of rage and either killed or severely wounded every scientist or doctor involved, but she escaped.

But that was another story.

At the moment, Bailey was trying to keep a low profile wherever she managed to find a place to stay. She'd jump from town to town, getting easy jobs to make quick cash and living in cheap motels. It was the kind of life Bailey didn't mind living. No one gave her a second glance, no one asked any questions.

Well, at least she thought so.

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"Fitz, you're late." In the latest city Bailey—or "Fitz", as she preferred to go by—was living in, she managed to land a job as a waitress at a no-name diner near the outskirts of a relatively average sized city.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"You sure don't sound sorry." Bailey's boss, Marina, was a woman who had to be somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties. Marina was everything Bailey didn't like in a person—authoritative, nosey, and loud. But Bailey made sure to put up a brave front; she needed the job. She needed the money.

"Next time you're late, Fitz, I swear to God...," Marina started.

"...you'll fire me." The words rolled off Bailey's tongue as if she'd said them multiple times before. Which she had.

"I will." Marina's green eyes blazed with irritation as she threw a look Bailey's way. "The only reason you're here is because we need the people."

"Then firing me wouldn't be smart, would it?" A look was thrown Marina's way.

The stern look on Marina's face made Bailey shut her mouth.

In a way, Bailey had been lucky to get a job at Marina's diner. Most places—even the little no-namers like Marina's—wouldn't have hired her, but Bailey knew that if she got desperate enough, she could do a little manipulating to make sure she got the job. In Marina's case, a little manipulation had to be done. When Bailey first came in, her clothes were dirty, she was dirty, and she barely had anything to show that she could be trusted for the job.

It was in moments like those Bailey was actually thankful for her mutation. Throw aside the telekinesis, Bailey's telepathy was what helped her through a lot of things. She could manipulate the minds of others, cause vivid hallucinations, and manipulate the memories of others—just to name a few. If she didn't have her telepathy, Bailey was certain she wouldn't have made it as far as she did. Whenever Bailey finished in one town, she'd erase any memories involving her from whomever she met and leave.

She didn't want a single flitting thought of her left behind.

"Just get to work, Fitz." Marina's sharp tone cut through Bailey's thoughts.

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By the time Bailey's shift had come to an end, Marina gave her her money, accompanied with the tips Bailey had earned, and the young woman ventured off to her motel room. If Bailey chose to walk, it'd be an hour and a half from Marina's diner to the motel, but if she walked about a block and rode a few transits, she'd be at her motel in a quarter of the time.

But that would also make a dent in the money she earned. Looking up, Bailey could see the sky was getting dark and a few clouds were rolling in.

Taking a few transits won't be so bad, she thought sourly.

With a defeated sigh, Bailey hurried to the next bus stop to wait.

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Relief couldn't have come fast enough. When Bailey saw the motel, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch. She'd been staying in the city far longer than she anticipated (only because she was in desperate need of money). But she was a little closer to her goal, and she knew that maybe after another week, she'd be able to take off to wherever was next.

As she got off the bus, she started walking over to the motel, and when she got close to her room, she stopped.

Someone's in there. Leaning forward, so her forehead barely touched the door, Bailey closed her eyes. She felt the presence of a man, he'd been there for a while. Opening her eyes, Bailey felt her stomach knot up. How'd he get in? she thought. Bailey knew she could have gone into his mind to investigate, but she wasn't willing to risk it. In most circumstances, if Bailey was going into someone's mind without any intention of erasing their memories of her, they were slightly aware of her presence. Damn it! Biting her bottom lip, Bailey lowered her eyes for a moment. She couldn't just leave, all of her valuable possessions were in there. She'd have to go in there and face him.

Letting out a silent curse, Bailey took notice to how the door was unlocked before opening it and walking in.

Standing near her bed was an African American man—who was no doubt taller than Bailey—with an eyepatch over one eye, an almost stoic expression on his face, and a long leather coat covering the black clothes he wore. When his gaze met Bailey's, she felt herself visibly stiffen. His good eye pierced into her in a way that made her stomach knot up painfully.

"Ms. Fitzgerald," he said, clasping his hands behind his back, "I have to say you were a little hard to track."

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped.

The man didn't answer right away. "You think you're the only one in the world with extraordinary powers," he said, clearly avoiding the question. "What if I told you there's something bigger out there?"

"I'm not interested."

"Ms. Fitzgerald, you may have been hard to track, but your history...not so much."

Bailey's blood ran cold. She swore she saw her skin go three shades paler than its original skin color.

"I need someone with your kind of power," he went on, "for something I'm putting together."

"I said I'm not interested," she rasped, swallowing thickly.

Looking at her closely, the man shrugged slightly. "Normally, I'm not one to do this," he sighed, "but how about we make a deal? You help me, I wipe away the lab incident."

A flutter of something went through Bailey at the sound of that. Wipe away the lab incident? He could do that? Before she could think too intensely on it, the more rational part of Bailey's mind came through.

"I don't even know you," she snapped. "I don't know how you managed to find me or find that out, but..."

"But I am willing to let you do something good so you can start over."

He's making a good point. Bailey let out a frustrated sigh. "You tell me what this is first," she exclaimed, pointing at him. "And don't you dare bullshit me."

"I'm here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative."


(A/N):

In case there was any confusion on this first chapter: Bailey Fitzgerald had been experimented on because of her powers; in a fit of rage (which will be explained later on in the story), Bailey managed to kill or severely injure all the doctors and scientists involved in her experimentation, which led to her escaping; because of that incident, Bailey started living low profile. This story is set in the first Avengers movie, it's going to be a Thor/OFC (Bailey) pairing (only because I just can't really see a real relationship-connection between Thor and Jane, there doesn't really seem to be much chemistry between them in the MCU adaptations). But just because Thor and Jane don't have any romantic relations to each other, doesn't mean they aren't on good terms. They'll be written as friends (if I choose to write Jane in for any reason). Bailey's a strong telekinetic/telepathic mutant. More of her background will be looked into the further the story goes.

Do I own anything in the MCU? No. No I don't.

Before I wrap up this author's note, I just want to tell you guys this: stay safe! There's a lot of craziness going on and I want all of you to know that I hope you make good choices and be as safe as possible.

Tell me if there's anything I can improve on.

Thank you,

Scarlet Tchaikovsky