Prologue
It's late. The streets of the small Alaskan town are dark from the lack of street lamps and the thick layer of snow that is falling from the sky. A young girl walks lonesomely through the storm. Cold air swirls around her as she continues down the street, tiny pellets of snow burn her skin as they scrape her nose and cheeks. The wind pierces through the holes in her mittens and her oversized tattered coat causing her to shiver.
She reaches to untuck her hood from where it was caught on her backpack. She pulls it over her head and tightly holds it in place as she trudges through the challenging weather. The slush from the frozen sidewalks soaks through the worn soles of her shoes; she can no longer feel her toes. She is in no hurry, though. She is never in a hurry these days.
With the town now behind her, she picks up her pace. An old abandoned fishing shack is all she can make out in the distance. She pushes despite the blizzard. On a normal, calm night, the starlit sky would guide her home, or at least to the rundown cabin she has been inhabiting for the past month. Right now, her squinting eyes she can barely see a few feet ahead of her.
When she finally reaches the cabin, she pushes the door open and kicks off her soaking wet boots, before hanging her bag on a metal hook. She pulls her dark hair in a high ponytail and unzips her bag. She then pulls wax candles and a box of wooden matches out of the front pocket of her bag.
The young girl lights the candles, the new-found light allows her to see around the small building. It is only one room, with a boarded up window, a wooden chair and a metal pail to her left, a small wood stove to her right and a cot against the wall opposite to her. It isn't much, but she can't complain. It is better than where she used to be.
She wraps an old quilt around her shoulders and places the candle atop the wood stove. She grabs a few pieces of kindling and begins to light a fire to help warm her up. She doesn't have much to do most nights, but lighting a fire is something she finds enjoyable in a strange way. Almost like how somebody would enjoy a regular hobby.
Now that her nightly routine is finished, she sits down on the floor in front of the fire and watches as the flames dance across the wood. She continues sitting, occasionally adding logs to the fire until she can no longer keep herself awake. She knows how cold it can get if she lets the fire burn out.
Eventually, exhaustion gets the better of her and she falls asleep in a ball in front of the flaming stove.
The next morning, she wakes up shivering, to the sound of wind whistling through the cracks of the window boards. The fire has gone out hours ago judging by the flickering embers, and the cold is crawling up through the floor beneath her.
She notices an unusual tightness in her chest and her mind racing. For a moment she lets her anxiety set in but she is quick to bush off her worries.
It is barely 6 a.m., yet it is time to start her day.
She walks over to the pail to use the washroom then wanders over to her bag, pulling out a plastic, liter-sized, bottle of water. She brushes her hair and teeth, spits in the pail, and then she puts her jacket and boots on to go empty the pail outside.
She does her best with the limited survival skills her has. The average 14-year-old would be going to school and hanging out with their friends but instead she is struggling to stay alive. She has been trained to be a weapon; they pushed to her limits to prepare her to fight but she had no idea how to actually survive on her own.
Now it is time to make her way back in to town to collect food and warm up. She spends her day in the local public library to keep warm, with the added bonus that it gave her something to do. No one ever notices her there. The librarian is an old, almost blind woman, and the kids her age aren't interested in spending their free time with their noses buried in books.
Soon, someone might start asking questions, but for now, she feels safe. That is what matters.
She heads to the local convenience store, preparing to steal her next meal. It has been days since she has last eaten and it is getting difficult to keep up her energy. Usually, she would pick pockets to pay for a snack or wander to one of the surrounding towns to avoid suspicion, but today is different. Today she doesn't feel like herself.
She can't focus.
Her eyes flicker down the empty aisle before she shoves cans of vegetable soup and corn into her large jacket pockets. She takes as many as she can fit. Now satisfied with her haul, she pulls her hood up and walks out of the store with her head down, hands in her pockets.
She is distracted, lost in the thoughts of finally being able to eat that she doesn't notice the store owner's teenage son watching her. He runs out the door after her with his father close behind.
"Stop, you need to pay for that!" the boy yells and he begins chasing her down the street.
She doesn't listen. Instead, she quickens her pace. She knows that stealing is wrong but she doesn't feel guilty. She needs to find food somehow after all.
She runs as fast as she can, knowing she will be fine but it feels good to feel a little pressure.
The chase is exhilarating, this is the most eventful experience she has had in over a month but she is shaking with fear. She is overcome with anxiety once again which only makes her run faster; she is not used to being perturbed. Something was wrong.
Every once and awhile, she makes a mistake due to lack of sleep or lack of attention. She is special and her abilities give her the power to escape these kinds of situations, unfortunately, she has trouble controlling them when she is stressed. She doesn't know how many more times she will be able to get away with these sorts of things.
By now, other people have emerged from their homes and stores, including the Sheriff and his deputy.
The Sheriff yells something but she can't hear over her laboured breathing. Any sounds is being absorbed by the blood rushing to her ears.
A Sheriff car abruptly pulls out in front the her and two deputies step out. They shout for her to stop but she doesn't care.
Then she hears it. The sound of someone pumping the slide backwards on a shotgun.
She stops.
That sound brings her back to her childhood, back when she didn't need to fight to stay alive. Back when she could play with her siblings in the field by their house and when she could help her mother and father with housework. Everything changed when she heard that noise
As if a switch had just been flipped, her eyes turn dark and she is ready to fight her way out. She turns and lifts her hands up in front of her.
"Don't move," someone says, but she doesn't register the words. "We won't hurt you."
The world becomes silent and dark around her.
She lifts her hand when another shotgun clicks. A bright white light erupted from where she is standing. The ground splits and chunks of asphalt are ripped from the road, the energy sends everyone flying backwards onto the snowbanks.
The boy from the store is hiding behind the edge of a building, startled by the flashing light. The dust settles and he is shocked by the sight before him: a large pit now sits trenched where the girl had been standing. Bodies lay scattered around the hole, some people are stirring and others try to get back to their feet.
He looks around in fear, but the girl is gone.
Another deputy comes running out of the Sheriff station after the flash. He is holding a gun out in front of him, hands shaking as he scans the street for the mysterious figure in the brown coat. His heart is racing, and he swallows hard as a lump forms in his throat.
Before he can register what is happening, the gun is ripped from his hold. It floats before him as if it was being levitated. He is both scared and mesmerized by the illusion.
Then, the butt of his shotgun smokes his face. He tries to swing back but before he can, the gun goes off.
Bang.
He clutches his gut and falls to the ground, blood gushing from his abdomen.
Another shot goes off and the young boy from the store takes his final breath. A bullet pierces through his skull and he is dead before he hit the ground.
A high-pitched scream echoes through the street and the gun hits the ground as a trail of footprints appear, swiftly moving away from the crime scene.
Thank you for giving my flick a read. I just wanted to thank o0aurora0o for all their is my first Avengers story so please let me know what you think. Next chapter will be posted on Sunday, October 28th, Most Avengers Character will appear so stay tuned for the next chapter! This is also my first time creating my own character so tell me what you of them! I'm really excited about this story. I hope that you enjoy ready it just as much as I enjoyed writing it.