I walked along the beach, wondering what the hell I was going to do. The salty sea breeze blew my waist-length blonde hair behind me, save a few strands straggling around my face. If I accepted the offer to join SHIELD and the Avengers Initiative, I would be sacrificing all that I hold dear to me: isolation and peace, and the fact that SHIELD killed my parents, well, the closest thing I ever had to parents, put me in situations full grown adults couldn't handle when I was just a teenager, and took away any chance I had at being normal. On the other hand, if I chose not to help, the Earth could be invaded by an alien race, to which I would probably never find any alone time ever again: at least by joining I could run away and return when I was needed. In that split second, I made my decision, and didn't question it or ponder on it. I spun on the heel of my brown lace-up boot, which was now covered with water and sand, started running faster than any human ever could hope to run, lunged into the air, and soared into the clear blue sky, my hair whipping behind me: then sensation of flying clearing my head, making the decision I made all the more clear, and I'm even more positive this is the right one.

Obviously, I could fly: I also had certain physical attributes enhanced above and beyond a normal human's, such as speed, strength, sight, hearing, flexibility, reflexes, agility, pretty much anything along that line. I'm also fairly smart, then again, when you hang around drunks your whole life so they make drunken deals with you, everyone else seems like a freaking genius, but that is another aspect enhanced. As I fly to New York City, the current location of where SHIELD's base, the Helicarrier, is floating around somewhere, they would not disclose the exact location, the thoughts of how I ended up like this and in this situation.

I was taken by SHIELD as a pre-fertilized egg; my biological parents conceived me and decided to donate me to my own personal hell. In that state, I was altered in the ways to make me as I am; SHIELD's hope was to create a race of beings like me. But as time wore on, as I started getting board of all their little exams, experimentations, tolerance level tests, you name it; I started to develop something they never expected: feelings. I was human, at first, anyway, and they never did anything to stop me from becoming independent, to function as something other than their personal robot. My adopted parents; at least that's what I call them, were a scientist couple studying me, and broke me out when I was about 14. A few months after my great escape, I was abducted off the streets, where they had to put me down with a bullet to the shoulder, as SHIELD had trained me in combat in the time I was with them, and I suppose have to thank them for that, I was beating them badly.

Anyway, I got back to their little base, where they tortured me with information about SHIELD, my experience with them; basically my entire life, but spending most of my life with them(SHIELD) toughened me up and their torture methods, which included drenching me then shocking me, waterboarding, high pitched noises that only I could hear, which almost broke me, but I waited for the bullet wound to heal, which took all of one day, my healing rate is excelled too, and I escaped easily. My dad died a few months after, and the group struck again when I was 16, causing a car crash that killed my mom and abducting me again, torturing me with the same methods, giving me God-awful flashbacks even today, broke me. The wounded creature that I was, I flew with all speed to Florida, where I found a way to make money, which included betting on things of strength, wit, you name it, and eventually got enough money by 18 to buy a super-nice loft and settle down for a good 10 years. 8 years later, SHIELD somehow found out where I was, my blonde hair, violet eyes, and my all together recognizable appearance and attributes probably making me easy to track, and asked me to join back up with them.

Despite all of this, I wasn't mad. Sure, SHIELD screwed me up beyond redemption, but it was all that who made me who I was. Plus, it's pretty badass being able to fly, which I have them to thank for.

I could fly very fast, how fast I'm not sure, but I fly low to the ground and the landscape become a blur, but after about 20 minutes, I can make out the Empire State Building, and slow down to look for the Helicarrier. After about five minutes of flying around, right in front of me, a floating air craft carrier, yeah, paint that mental picture in your mind, suddenly shimmered in existence before me. I stopped myself in mid-air, somewhat surprised by the sudden appearance of the craft, but calmly started flying toward it, eventually landing on the metal deck, where a man in a suit and a few armed guards were standing, presumably waiting for me.

"You must be Gale Abernathy," says the man in the suit. He appears to be in his late forties, has thinning, receding brown hair, and gray eyes.

"Unless you're expecting some other flying person to be here today," I reply sarcastically, but not rudely. This gets a small chuckle out of him and he extends his hand in greeting, saying,

"My name is Phil Coulson: I am an agent with SHEILD." I shake his hand and reply,

"Nice to meet you Agent Coulson." I drop my hand back down to my side and looked nervously down at my green tank top, gray jacket and jeans.

"You're not pissed?" was his next question as we headed to inside the Helicarrier.

"Why would I be pissed?" I asked, only half interested, basically just taking in my surroundings.

"Well, we screwed you up: we were the cause of your caretaker's deaths, you're probably scarred you for life, how are you not tearing this place apart?" he asks, genuinely curious. I was actually surprised at this: I'm guessing this is some sort of apology, but he had nothing to do with me, as far as I know: I remember every face that I ever saw in that place.

"You have to learn to let things go: plus, it must suck not being able to fly," I grin. He smiles back, obviously relieved at the lack of hostility in my voice, and says,

"I'm glad to hear that: I don't fear for my life anymore."

"Were the armed guards really necessary?" I inquire, motioning to the four guards still following us.

"Oh yes: you are dismissed," he motions, the guards, turning and going the opposite way we are.

"What were they there for, anyway?" I ask.

"Oh, we weren't sure what you were here for: if you were going to be a threat, those guns could put you down, but hell, we don't know how far your abilities have developed," he waves a hand, brushing away the matter, and I am satisfied with this, for now anyway. I decide that this guy isn't half bad, that we might be friends, given we spend enough time on it.

"Where are we going?" I realize that he never mentioned it.

"You," he corrects, "Are going to meet the people who are also part of the program." I question his use of people in that context, but not aloud. We walk in silence for five minutes; I'm memorizing the halls, twists and turns, getting a partial layout of the carrier. I'm creating a map in my head when Phil suddenly stops and says, "We're here." and with that, he gives me a gentle push and I find myself the center of attention of six people, who were obviously arguing before I walked in.

"Ah, you must be Gale," says a black guy in an eye patch and black leather trench coat. I shake his hand and say,

"And you are...?"

"I'm Nick Fury, director of SHIELD," he responds, placing his hand by his side once again. He introduces the other people in the room: Tony Stark, a man of about 5'9, wavy dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a goatee matching his hair color. He also has a thing with a blue glow in the middle of his chest, which must be the infamous arc reactor I've heard about. Next is Bruce Banner, AKA the Hulk, who is about the same height as Stark, with messy almost black hair, dark brown eyes, and is clutching a pair of glasses at the moment. Steve Rogers is introduced next, his patriotic outfit standing out to me most, but he has reddish-blonde hair combed carefully to one side, gray-blue eyes, and a somewhat commanding quality about him, which is I guess why they call him Captain, and he's about 6 feet even: I see him hold his gaze on me and I return the glance, but his eyes flit away and a bit of color rises in his cheeks. I feel something jump slightly in my stomach, but I ignore it. After him is Natasha Romanoff, who has fierce, red hair that falls in bouncy waves, not quite to her shoulders, green eyes, and a very tight suit on: she is about my height, perhaps a bit taller. Last comes Thor, who has blonde hair a bit past his shoulders, blue eyes, and is wearing what can only be described as relaxing armor, because it is the length of a tank top and doesn't seem as heavy as legit armor: he's probably about a foot taller than me.

I shake hands with each of them and apologize,

"Sorry for interrupting."

"Well, we were squabbling like little children before, so thanks for interrupting," replies Fury. A few seconds later, a computer starts beeping and Banner walks over to it. I notice Tony staring at me intently, as if looking for something beneath my features, and I raise my eyebrow, but he quickly looks away. I shrug it off and a few seconds later I hear Dr. Banner say,

"Oh my God." Right after that, there's an explosion that knocks me through one of the glass windows.