No one ever loved Anastasia Bauer. The day she was born, she gained one happy memory. A woman with warm arms was rocking her against her white dress. Little shushing noises reached the little girl and she was immediately quiet, already wanting to please this woman.

But then they sent her away. The girl was very small, being 2 months premature, and very very young. Only 3 days old, she was delivered to the city orphanage. It was there she remained for the next 7 years.

It seemed like she would be wanted by someone. She was cute, and small, something many foster parents wanted. But Anastasia was so unnaturally quiet. It made a few people wary of what she was thinking. Not to mention she kept hiding in small spaces and was hardly ever seen.

Honestly, to Death, she was the perfect pawn. Everything about her was just right. Her name, her wide green eyes, her ever-tangled black hair, the way she liked to hide and the soft lilt to her voice. The fact that she lived in Ireland didn't matter. If anything, it made it better. To Death, countries may as well have all been connected by highways.

It was easy to locate the place Anastasia lived. A tall brick building with a sign that clearly stated where they were stood proudly on a dull plot of land. The ocean was far away, and the sky was cloudy and gray, the way it often was when Death was traveling. Inside it was lit brightly and had thick gray carpeting. It seemed like a lovely place to stay. Death did not want to stay long and quickly, invisibly, found her way to Anastasia.

She thought the child would be sleeping. Of course, Anastasia had to be difficult. The small mortal was whispering softly in Irish, the accent strong. "Má d'fhéadfadh a fhágann tú, ba mhaith leat?" If you could leave, would you?

Another voice, older and lower, answered back with a slight chuckle. "Ní ba mhaith liom a fhágáil gan a rá beannacht. B'fhéidir ní ba mhaith liom a fhágáil ar chor ar bith gan tú." I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. Maybe I wouldn't even leave without you.

"Ceart go leor." Okay. Anastasia seemed comforted by the older girl and tried to drift off to sleep.

The other girl smiled at Anastasia and started to sing. The words críona and arún kept coming up. My heart, my love. It was a motherly lullaby sung in the soft alto tones of a friend.

Death watched the child's breathing even out and waited for the older girl to go as well. A very small, buried part of Death longed to be in their place. Death couldn't sleep. If she could go to any kind of dreamland, it would be a perfect retreat from everything she had to put herself through. Beyond the wish of wanting to sleep, part of her wished she could be that innocent and pure. When Death was made, she was made to be corrupt and mischievous, the opposite of any kind of purity this little child possessed.

She shook her wishes away with a violent head shake and refocused. The girls were both asleep, and the sun had slipped behind the horizon hours ago. Those pithy Avengers would possibly still be awake if they had gotten enough sleep two nights ago when Death first met them. Perfect.

Death reached a pulsing finger out towards the girl and took a deep breath. When her finger reached Anastasias face, Death felt a crippling sense of loss. Anastasia disappeared, and so had the throbbing in Deaths fingertip. She waited, gasping for air. Ten seconds later, the pulse returned and Death felt herself return to normal. She couldn't just teleport people, she had to power them with the deaths flowing through her. It was more than enough to quickly send a girl across an ocean, but it left Death powerless for a moment and it made her panic.

Anastasia would be just where Death wanted her, still asleep. Please with what she had done, Death made the decision to go visit some centaurs and meet one that she could feel was about to go in person.

Anastasia remembered whispering in the dark to the only person she ever talked to, her only friend. Once she was sure that Ciara wouldn't leave her alone, she fell asleep to the sound of her singing. It was a very nice way to drift off. What wasn't quite so nice is the way she was jolted back.

"Tony!" A voice shouted. It was a woman, that Anastasia was sure of. It didn't sound like Miss Cinnsealach (Pronounced Kinsella), and she was pretty sure she had never met anyone named Tony in her entire short life. "Come quickly!"

Those words didn't make any sense to Anastasia. They sounded like nonsense. Why did this woman talk so sharply, cutting off all of her syllables before getting them out properly? It was very strange and Anastasia decided she would hide again today instead of being looked at by this woman who talked so strange.

It was weird, Ciara wasn't coming over to kiss her on the forehead and say 'maith ar maidin, éan beag' good morning little bird like she always did. Was Ciara busy? What was she doing? It wasn't her turn to help make breakfast, so she should have been up with Anastasia and helping her out of bed and into the hiding place she knew the little girl went whenever an undesirable foster parent came into the building. But she didn't.

With her eyes still closed, Anastasia waited. Footsteps came for her, and they didn't sound muted like they always did in the soft carpet. In fact, they sounded entirely different. More clicking and sharp.

"What is that?"

"…A little girl?"

"What?"

"Genius of the year: Tony Stark. When did a little girl get in here?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't have asked you what it was."

"So she's just here?"

"I'll check JARVIS and then send her home."

"I guess I'll wake her up." The woman spoke last in that nonsense language they were using. A soft, long fingered hand gently shook Anastasia's shoulder.

Her voice think with sleep, a heavily accented jumble of words managed to shake free of the girl's vocal chords. "Ná ní ghlacfaidh mé le do thoil. Ciara? Ciara, áit a bhfuil tú?" Don't take me with you please. Ciara? Ciara where are you?

Anastasia's eyelids fluttered open to reveal inquisitive green eyes. When she met the stormy blue eyes in front of her, she drew back the best she could while laying down. Anastasia didn't know those eyes, didn't trust those eyes. They weren't the clear, welcoming gray she had been hoping for. It wasn't Ciara.

The woman leaning over her was pretty, with light red hair falling over one shoulder and light freckles dancing across her nose. She could be Irish, but she didn't talk Irish. "Who are you?" The woman asked in confusion.

Anastasia, not understanding the meaning of those words, just stared blankly back at the woman. Soon she got bored with that and started to crane her neck to see where she was.

She was right about the floor. It was hard and shiny, and the walls around her were scarlet and gold. Anastasia' s three and a half foot form was curled up on a red couch that rested on a black rug. In front of her was the largest television she had ever seen. Behind the television was a wall of mostly windows that displayed a beautiful sunrise that painted the sky pink and orange. Tall buildings poked into the tendrils of color.

When Anastasia looked back at the woman she saw an expectant look. The woman sighed at pointed at herself saying, "My name is Virginia."

Anastasia smiled. She was pretty sure she understood that! Virginia smiled back. "And you are?"

Even though Anastasia didn't understand the words, she knew how conversation worked. She had watched it happen enough times. So she pointed a finger at herself and very quietly informed Virginia, "Is é mo ainm Anastasia." My name is Anastasia.

"Pepper!" A mans voice ran out. The same man that had been talking to Virginia. Anastasia turned to examine the dark haired man. He had sharp facial hair and a few bruises and cuts on his face. They were healing, but clearly recent. He looked like his face should be happy, but it was currently set into a grim expression.

"The Leprechaun here is talking in Irish. JARVIS translated it. She's asking for someone named Ciara. The security feeds from last night show something just teleporting onto my couch. No one entered or exited. She just showed up. And I don't like it." His opinion was tacked onto the end of his spiel. Anastasia wasn't sure she liked this man.

Her small hands grasped her black curls, slowly threading her fingers through it like she was just about to put in up or back, but she didn't. It was a comforting motion, reminding her of when Ciara pulled two front strands of hair up with a rubber band and tied a ribbon around the band. She didn't have either of those things, or Ciara.

Virginia looked over at the man. "Tony, does anyone here speak Irish? Maybe they could help us out."

The man was going to point out that JARVIS could do it, but didn't want to upset Virginia and went away. Virginia turned back to Anastasia.

"We'll find someone for you to talk to. That way we can get you home. Unless you speak any English?" The blankly confused look on Anastasia face told Virginia everything. "Alright."

Virginia got up and went into another room, leaving the door wide open so Anastasia's green eyes to track her every movement. She was rummaging around in some cabinets and soon Anastasia got bored. She turned to look out the window, or the wall really. The sky was now a crystalline blue and she smiled happily at the puffy clouds. It was a beautiful day in whatever city she was in. For a while she was just content with watching birds.

Virginia was soon at her side again with a plate full of food. Anastasia figured it was breakfast, but it wasn't the salted eggs or buttered bread she usually received for breakfast. It was a flat, fluffy disk covered with a sticky brown liquid. The smell coming from it was fantastic, and Anastasia did her best to not spill any of the stick stuff on her blue pajamas.

Them dark haired man came back and was tugging at the wrist of another dark haired man. But the second man's hair was curly and his skin was much darker. He looked tired and much nicer and warmer than the first man. Anastasia immediately liked him.

So she hopped off of the couch and walked over to the second man. "Dia duit. Is é mo ainm Anastasia. Cé go bhfuil tú?" Hello. My name is Anastasia. Who are you?

The warm man smiled. "Bruce. Glaoch siad dom Bruce." They call me Bruce.

Anastasia grinned widely at Bruce, very happy to find someone who wasn't speaking nonsense. Suddenly she erupted into uncharacteristic chatter because she was so pleased to understand and so confused about how she had gotten where she was.

She kept asking questions about where she was, who these people were, why they were talking weird, and where Ciara was. Virginia and the first man just stood off to the side wondering what in the world was going on in front of them.

Bruce good naturedly smiled at the little girl and answered her questions the best he could. They were in New York City in America. The people around her were Pepper, Virginia's nickname, and Tony, even though there were more people in the building in other places. The people were talking weird because it was a different language that Anastasia didn't understand. He didn't know who Ciara was and hadn't seen her around the tower.

Anastasia was satisfied with the answers. Then she went back to the couch and burrowed into a corner, trying to absorb herself into a cushion.

Bruce turned to Tony and Pepper. "She had no idea where she is or how she got her. Her name is Anastasia, she's 7 years old, and lives in an orphanage in Ireland. She asked me a lot of question about where she was and why she couldn't understand you, but apparently she's appeased with the answers. How do we proceed from here?"

"Send her back to Ireland?" Tony suggested. Pepper looked pensive.

"How do we know she wouldn't just end up right back here? Maybe she's supposed to be here for something. If it happened once, it could happen again. We don't really know." Pepper mused. "Also, she's an orphan, right? So no one wanted her where she was. She doesn't have anything to go back to."

The adults looked at the girl, confused and thoughtful. This little girl was a conundrum that the scientists were both very ready to solve.

Death watched them all. She saw the woman melting as she looked as Anastasia. Her plan was falling into place, albeit slowly. But as long as it was happening, nothing had to get messy. Not just yet anyway.

Are you guys okay with all the foreign-ness? I try to make it better by putting the translation right there. Should I stop with the Irish/Russian/Whatever other language comes up?

Also, how do we all feel about Anastasia? Death? What is this master plan?

Until next time.