Okay, before I start I would just like to say high to everyone. For those who have actually read my previous two stories 'Esmond' and 'Another World' I am afriad to say that I will not be continuing with any of them. I have actually been inspired though to do this FanFic after doing an narrative in school on how guilt can lead to good deads and bam, here it is. This is something that will have slow updates but I have posted chapter one, two and three as well as my character information of Russel on my Quotev page and am currently working on chapter four which is coming out tomorrow.

This story is mainly something I will be working on in my free time which I don't have much of unfortunatly because this year of school is one of the most important ones. I really hope everyone enjoys my story, and that if you have something to say feel free to leave a comment unless it isn't constructive critism.

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Avengers universe except for my characters and the story line.

Another thing you should know before you read, I am actually just starting out in 3rd POV so it may be a little confusing since I tend to use 1st POV just in case it gets a little bumpy along the way.

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Sometimes, people do wonder who they really are or who they could be.

This is something Russel tends to have problems with; the hardest was that he did not know if what he was capable of was a gift or a curse.

Some days he could be one person, while the next he could be the complete opposite of who he was, heck, he could most probably live the life of another and not be noticed.

Take today for an example.

No longer was he a high schooler, but was instead doing something he regretted yet seemed to be an action that he should've done ages ago.

Gone were his rust coloured locks and youthful looks and instead the scruffy appearance of a middle age man who was unconscious in a motel room thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol. Russel would consider this to be the best he has done when it came to his abilities, but he didn't know how long he could keep up the act.

Almost as if to see if he was real he tenderly raked a finger along his cheek and watched as the skin rippled like a pebble disturbing water of a pond, pale and freckled skin showing for only a second before turning tan once more. His brown eyes remained the same but they were something Russel didn't want to change, his nose and lips more masculine and weather worn.

Lines of age were on his forehead while rough salt and pepper coloured hair sat on his jaw from what seemed to have not been groomed in a few days by how fuzzy it looked. It seemed out of place compared to the rest of his head which had been shaved and was paler than the rest of the head.

Russel didn't know if he would back out of this, yet a part of him seemed almost as if he was having the time of his life. Adrenaline perhaps, either way he was too deep in thought to care.

His body had grown to what he considers to be a notable height, now six foot two but the only thing wrong was the way his gut stuck out and the white wife beater tank only made it more noticeable while his legs were covered in a pair of dark brown slacks and was wearing a pair of black dress shoes.

Russel almost pulled a face of disgust as he looked back up at the slightly cracked mirror that hung on the wall of the motel room, wondering if he should've chosen to take the appearance of the prostitute that he had also knocked out and was laying on the bed besides the man.

He just didn't want to go through the trouble of what he had done once again, and doubted he would feel comfortable in the body of the opposite body.

Russel could easily change his appearance but what he did today made his head hurt as if his head was being bashed with a hammer and a nose bleed. He had removed his clothes which were safely tucked into his backpack before he had experimenting, the pain only starting when he tried to morph himself so he was wearing the man's clothes and so he had the same strength.

That was defiantly something Russel never plans on doing again.

Tiredly he ran a hand over his head, well he really didn't know if he should call it his, and felt strange about the lack of hair. He knew he was exhausted by the way his eyes were bloodshot, the lack of sleep catching up to him and quickly so he would have to move fast. Russel gave a little nod to himself in the mirror, letting out a deep breath from his dry throat as if to reassure himself.

Unknowingly to Russel the petty crime would just be the start of something that he did not expect.

. . . . .

Goosebumps decorated Russel's bare arms as he leaned against the rough brick wall of an alley, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as his hands. He hadn't bothered to throw on the coat that laid forgotten in the room of the hotel, and he regretted that decision. It was now late at night.

It would be considered beautiful if not for the stress he felt.

From what his watch read it was two past ten, the glow of the city blocking out the stars as traffic drove on the streets and groups of people walked by. The nightlife was quite active at this time to his disappointment, and he didn't particularly want to be seen by anyone. The area of Manhattan he was in wasn't run down like the neighbourhood he lived in yet it wasn't typically busy.

It just had a few restaurants but it was mainly just apartments separated by alleys which were either wide or narrow, but big enough for a car to drive through. Russel had stationed himself next to an Italian restaurant called 'Little Italy', and from what he had gathered the person he was waiting for came every Friday night and ate either alone or with another female which shouldn't be too hard yet it wouldn't be easy.

Russel was just hoping that she was alone tonight.

Nervously his fingers fiddled with the weapon in his hand. It didn't look much, it was just a folding razor knife he had picked up but it would surely be able to do a lot of damaged from how sharp the blade looked. Easily his ears picked up the sound of the small bell ringing that was above the door and the sound of heels, this time he hoped that it was actually the woman he had been waiting for.

Russel dropped the cigarette to the ground, using the front of his foot to grind the cigarette bud against the uneven ground as he moved closer to the opening of the alley. He couldn't hear anyone besides the footsteps moving closer to the alley and he could only pray that there would be no witnesses.

His breath seemed to be caught in his throat as he waited, only moving forward once he had seen the strawberry blonde hair. The small sound of surprise coming from her let Russel know that his attack was unexpected, his hand gripping at her upper arm roughly as his blade was position in case it would be needed.

Grabbing the woman was harder than he had expected as she thrashed, Russel ended up having to move his arm up so her mouth was a pressed against the crook of her arm as she went to scream. Finally he managed to get the woman behind a dumpster where he threw her to the ground, her body landing with a thud as he stared down at her hoping to look threatening as he held the razor tightly in his hand.

The woman he had grabbed was the one and only Pepper Potts.

The thirty three year old woman was scrambling to get up and would have succeeded if it weren't for the fact that Russel had pressed his foot against her lower back. Although he was trying to do his best to be intimidating he couldn't help but try to fight off a blush as he saw that the skirt of her dress had flown up and exposed her lacy underwear which was something he didn't need to see.

"Give me all your valuables," Russel spoke, mentally cursing himself for the slight tremor in his voice as he moved his foot from her back, a footprint of dirt left on the light pink fabric. Russel could see the hesitation in her blue eyes as she stared up at him, her hand nervously gripping the pendent that hung around her neck.

"Now," he spat, spittle flying from his mouth aggressively as he moved closer making the woman flinch. "How about we talk this out, I can see that you don't want to do this," she said, her voice seemingly calm yet Russel could see that she was frightened and it wouldn't be long until she kicks into fight or flight mode.

Russel's tongue flicked out a swiped over his bottom lip as if he was tasting the air, feeling impatient he easily pulled the clutch from her body which caused the chain to snap from her body. "Just do it," he snarled, his brown eyes watched as she slipped the few rings from her fingers.

"Hurry up," Russel said; his foot tapping against the ground as he knew her ride would be coming within a few minutes. Next he watched as she unlatched the necklace from her neck and a watch from around her wrist before handing over the handful of jewellery. Russel snatched the jewellery from her hand and shoved it into the pocket of the brown slacks before he buried his hand into her bag, being careful not to cut his own fingers.

As his hand searched the bag, he never moved his eye from her as he gripped her purse and threw the bag to her feet but kept the purse. With uncertainty, Russel shuffled back until his back brushed the opposite wall where he opened the purse and hurriedly bunched the multiple notes of money in his hand.

"I'm going to go now, and you are not allowed to leave until your ride shows up," Russel spoke, the bottom lip quivering as she eyed the pendant that hung from his grip, it was noticeable that it was important to her.
With that he ran, every part of his body burning with regret.

Word Count: 1698