Hey, just want to establish that I don't own any of the characters. I have been taking a bit of creative license with the whole 20s era. To started out, the first few chapters will be about the Avengers before any of them have meet.

The Before

She knew from the moment she entered the speakeasy that all eyes were on her. Of course, that didn't surprise her. She sashayed through the crowd, the fringe on her midnight blue dress swinging along with her. From her faux-crystal headband and feather to her T-bar shoes, she looked absolutely perfect. Perfect was a word synonymous with her being. Not only that but perfection expected from her. Her contract and employers expected nothing less.

"What a doll!" She heard the whispers. To an untrained eye, that's exactly what she was. But her smile was a little to still and big to be real and it didn't quite reach her eyes. Other agents had memories of which they could draw emotion from. But she? She had no happy memories but that worked for her. Each mission executed with a cold and calculated determination. Happiness was weakness.

She stopped at the decadent bar, where the bottles glinted from the chandelier light. She sat down on one of the upholstered, burgundy bar stools. She crossed her legs carefully, not wanting to disturb the hand gun strapped to her upper thigh. The Tommy guns were awfully hard to conceal and too impractical for her taste. She leaned towards the smaller hand guns. She rolled her bracelet around her wrist, a habit of hers when she was impatient. The bracelet wasn't a bracelet at all but a cleverly disguised chord, perfect for choking. It was one of her favorite weapons. She glanced down the side of the bar at the men, looking for her mark. The mob boss who had hired her hadn't been particular about how she got the job done but insisted that it be done quickly and quietly. She swivled around, scanning the room. She stopped when she saw him, a rather old man dressed very dapper and surrounded by a harem of women. He was in a part of the room roped off as the VIP section. She could get in to the VIP section easily, no doubt. But was that necessary? Her employer had instructed her to get in and get out, leaving no trace visible or otherwise. That was perfectly fine with her. She stepped into the path of the waiter who was heading straight towards the thug.

"My, I am so sorry!" She stammered as she clumsily knocked it to the waiter. The poor chap could do little but stare at her with big saucer eyes and mummer words of apology.

"Oh, It was all my fault," She batted her eyelashes and leaned towards him flirtatiously. All the while distracting him from what she was really doing. She dropped a pill into the single wine glass the waiter carried. It fizzed immediately.

"Wh- Wh- What's your name?" He managed to ask but his words were lost. The sea of people in the speakeasy had swallowed her up. He sighed and returned to his job, wondering if he would ever see the red head again.

"Help! " She was almost out the door when she heard the thud accompanied by feminine screams. The job was done. She left the place feeling empty. She use to take extreme pride in planning and executing her job but now… She was tired.

Part 2

He flashed a smile as the women mobbed him. He couldn't help it. They were like moths drawn to his light. He was intelligent, handsome, and smart. But above all else, he was rich. The world was his to carve out.

"Which ones of you would like to go home with me?" He asked with his usual swagger, already knowing the answer. His question was followed by an eruption of squeals from the dolls.

"How about you?" He grinned pointing to one. She nodded her head, her feathers bobbing furiously.

"And you?" He again joked, pointing to the next. She batted her eyes giving him a devilish smile. He could have and would have continued but he was rather rudely interrupted. He was pulled away by a sharp yank to the ear, pulling him toward the door.

"Really?" The woman sighed, exhausted by his behavior. She was his personal assistant, probably the only thing keeping him on the straight and narrow. She was an impeccably dress woman with a natural air that commanded respect and deference.

"I can't help that they're draw to me. Being a playboy, phil-"He started to say.

"-athropist, and genius is both a curse and a blessing," she sighed, having heard that excuse many time before. She was understandably frustrated. She saw his potential, if only he would listen to her. It was like working for an incredibly smart 8 year old. She brushed non-existent lint of her sweater. She stopped and turned,facing him, her pleated skirt whirling with her. She gave him a hard look.

"You need to get your head out of the gutter. Your father gave you this business and I am not going to let you run it in to the ground," She said with a straight face. He raised his head, looking her in the eyes. He tugged his blue vest down and put on his white jacket, before reaching for his top hat.

"You know me! I always have something up my sleeve. Don't you worry your pretty head off about it, doll," He gave her a wolf grin, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He was the master at save himself at the last moment. But somewhere deep down, her disappointment bothered him, but he buried that part of himself deep down where no one could every find it.

"I am THE playboy, philanthropist, genius!" He winked at her as he signaled the other dolls to follow him out. He gave her one last smile before exiting surrounded by a mob of women, a cloud of perfume, and a song of giggles and high pitched chatter.

She watched him leave and sighed. She tried and tried and tried. But it was like he didn't care.