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ariadne (guest) (ch1): i really like this. i am really looking forward to the next chapters

Re: Well, here's the next one :-)


I own Ari; her parents, her friends, and her brother, Carter; InFUSE; most of the plot, including Ari's backstory; and anything else you don't recognize.

Special Thanks: itsleanneyall and HalfIronman

Title: "Fly" by Nicki Minaj.


Above the SHIELD Helicarrier
8 March 2014
0813 Hours, NZST


I grin as I skim along the surface of the water, dragging my fingers along its icy surface. I lift up and spiral to the sky, cackling gleefully as I loop-de-loop time and time again. The air is even colder up here, so I have to raise my inner body temperature. My heat powers give me that ability. It's very useful; it's how I survived February back in Russia.

As I zoom higher and higher into the glowing-white sky, I check my watch, which also records my altitude and speed. One of the perks about InFUSE: the cool tech. It says that I'm just over twenty thousand feet, and my fastest today just over one-sixty miles per hour. I grin; it's my second fastest time. My all-time record is clocked at one-eighty-two, and that was right before I got arrested.

I notice that the white sky is fading to periwinkle. While checking on my stats, I also catch a glimpse of the time. It's nine-oh-two AM. I've been flying for almost an hour! Hoping that Coulson and this director person will let me sleep in because of my, uh, "situation" in Russia, I probably won't be needed anytime soon.

I lower to about ten thousand feet and glide for a few minutes, dipping a wing and swerving back whenever I feel I've gone too far. As I sail along the breeze, I let my thoughts wander. I wonder how my parents are doing. Before I was taken in by InFUSE, I lived with my mom and step-dad. My real father left just before I'd turned eight. When I say "he left" I mean that he disappeared off the face of the earth. Everyone thinks he's dead except for my mom, but she just doesn't think about it. Neither does my older brother, Carter, who should be twenty-seven this year, on May twenty-third. I'm four years younger than him, but I was placed into cryogenic preservation in 2008 (ha ha, the fire-girl was frozen, I get it) when I was sixteen (an extremely long story) for almost the next six years. I only woke up a few months ago, on the first of December, just after my twenty-second birthday.

I shift my thoughts to my friends back at InFUSE. They'd all be older than me now since I was a little older than half the members of my age group, which had students from fifteen to twenty years old. This caused me to be friends with many kids who were a year or two younger than me. Five of my friends, however, were also frozen with me, so we stuck like superglue after that incident and any that followed.

I've been gone for so long, I wonder if any of my normal friends still think about me. They probably think I'm dead- it's been an entire decade since I last spoke to my best friend from regular school, Jaimie. I wonder if my parents think I'm dead. I wonder if Carter thinks I'm dead. If my normal friends and family do think about me, how often?

What if I decide to leave, and I have no home- nothing to return to?

At this thought, I choke up. I pocket my sunglasses and halt in my path as I furiously wipe at my eyes. This is stupid. Hadn't I already made peace with this?

Stop it! If I let myself break down completely, I won't be able to concentrate enough on keeping myself in the air. However, I don't want to land- at least, not just yet. A little while ago, a few agents had come out to check on the aircraft onboard; I don't want them to see me so broken. That'd be too weird, right? If the new girl were to just start bawling her eyes out right in front of you?

I huff, finally able to contain myself, and I slip my sunglasses back on. I continue to circle as I see them point to me, occasionally waving to them. Ka-kaw, ka-kaw, right?

I pause a few times to soak up the sun's light, letting the warm rays rejuvenate me. When I finally land, my watch reads nine-forty-nine and all the agents have gone inside. I make a mental note to snag what I can from the cafeteria as I sit on my perch on top of the control tower, basking in the sun once more. I jump down, doing a double front flip, while using my wings to slow my descent.

I do a few basic dance stretches and attempt to do the splits, but in these jeans, it ain't happening. I do, however, stretch my wings as far as they can go, and boy, does it feel great. I grin at the sight of my feathers shimmering iridescent gold in the sunlight.

"Ah-hem," I hear someone cough from behind me. On instinct, I manage to retract my wings, whirl around, and have the agent pinned on his back within seconds.

"Oh my Gawd, Agent Coulson!" I gasp as I release my grip around his neck. "I'm so, so sorry! I had no idea it was you!"

"It's fine," Coulson waves me off as he stands, "I should've made myself visible."

"Um... so, what's up?" I ask as I put on my jacket.

"The rest of the Avengers are up, and we think it a good opportunity for you to meet."

Oh. "Well... uh, sure, I guess, why not?"

"They're waiting in the cafeteria. Follow me," he gestures, and I trot after him. As we walk through the corridors, I begin to fidget nervously. I take my hair down, put it back up, and then take it down again. I readjust my tank top, and then my jacket: first leaving it unzipped, and then zipping up all the way, and then leaving it half way up.

My gosh, why am I so fidgety? I reprimand myself as I nervously fiddle with my clothing. I've been through this process before; I know that I'll probably be facing some intense judging- I'm basically still seventeen, and I'm joining a team full of adults who are, more or less, more mature than I am.

It's not that I'm scared of being useless to the team; I have my own special skill set. I'm scared of otherwise being a waste of time, space, and energy. I have no idea what any of these people are like, so I have no idea what to expect, which- quite frankly- scares the crap out of me.

Any agent that passes us also has to give us these weird looks. I don't even know- oh wait, it's because I look like a goddamn seventeen-year-old. People tell me that, if I put on makeup and high heels, I look like I'm actually twenty. Well, guess who, at a sad height of five-foot-two, isn't wearing either of those things?

However, the good and very amusing thing about being underestimated is that you always get to laugh at people's shocked facial expressions right after you prove them utterly and completely wrong. I flash back to when I was kidnapped by one of the numerous evil organizations that I've fought. I had to fight one of theirs, and I beat him in less than five minutes. He, at three years older than I was (twenty-five; I had already been cryo'ed) and with the power to duplicate himself, was supposedly their most experienced fighter, and I barely even broke a sweat. Remind me to tell you that story sometime- it's quite awesome, if I do say so myself.

I actually get so lost in my train thought that I barely snap out of it in time to see that we've almost arrived.

I'm ten feet from the cafeteria entrance when I halt. I'm so freaked out and I honestly have no idea why. It's not that I'm getting any bad vibes; it's all me. It's that feeling of OMG-I'm-gonna-meet-the-world's-most-famous-heroes kind of fluttery feeling.

Yeah. No pressure whatsoever.

Anyways, Coulson notices and also stops, waving me off. "Don't worry; just be yourself," he suggests.

"I'm pretty sure that I would scare them away," I mumble to the agent as I shuffle into the cafeteria. My eyes widen with nervousness from behind my shades when I catch sight of all six Avengers sitting at a table together. Most of them are listening intently to a bald man with dark skin who is wearing a black trench coat and an eye-patch. The only one not listening is Tony Stark, whom I've seen on TV and in tabloid articles on the Internet; he seems to be researching something on a touch-screen tablet, which is most likely one of his personal designs.

"...and it's important that you make her feel welcome," I hear Trench Coat say like he's had to give the same speech multiple times, "as she could be an extremely valuable asset to the Avengers."

"Director Fury," Coulson calls out, making Trench- I mean, Fury- and the Avengers to look in our direction. This is one spotlight I really don't like being in.

"Wait," a man with gelled back blonde hair says slowly, "is she our new teammate?" He looks familiar. And by familiar, I mean I've seen him in my US history textbooks. His name is Steve Rogers, codenamed Captain America.

"Yes, she is," Fury replies.

"But she's, like, twelve!" Tony Stark pipes up. He turns to me. "And what up with the Matrix-sunglasses-indoors thing? Hangover?"

"Hardly," I snap. "And I'm seventeen!" And not even that- I'm friggin' TWENTY-TWO! Well, I actually do drink sometimes, but because I also have a superhuman healing factor, it has hardly any effect on me. But seriously, like I'm gonna tell them that right now? Ha!

"So, what's your name?" asks a man with dark curly hair and glasses. Kinda nerdy science-y looking, probably Bruce Banner, AKA the Hulk. I have at least a few acquaintances who've studied his work. I once tried to read one of his essays, and I couldn't get past the first paragraph.

"I'm Ari," I answer.

"What's it short for?" a brunette with blue eyes asks me. I don't recognize his face from anywhere, so I assume he's Agent Clinton Barton, or Hawkeye.

I scowl at him. "Ari Beckman."

He huffs, and I raise my eyebrow. Jeez, I'd actually really hate to be the only mature one on this team.

"What are your abilities in battle, may I ask?" asks a man with long blonde hair. I eye his intricately carved silver armor. Thor Odinson. His accent amuses me so much. Note to self: get him to talk more.

I turn to the Director. "You didn't tell them yet?" I ask quietly.

"No," he replies. "Coulson came to me right after he showed you your room and informed me of your request."

"Thank you." I turn back to the Avengers. "Hmm... well, most kids my age haven't been trained in as many forms of hand-to-hand combat as I have been. My weapon of choice... definitely a katana or a staff. I'm not opposed to guns; I just don't like using them as much as I could.

"Um... I'm working on strengthening my telekinetic abilities," I offer. "However, that's not one of my main abilities."

"So you have more than one?" Agent Barton asks.

"Yup."

"So… why, again, are you not telling us?" Tony asks.

"Partly 'cause I wanna see your expressions when you see. And I also reserve the right to not tell you my life story after we've known each other for less than five minutes."

"Who or what agency previously trained you?" a woman with a bright red bob inquires. To most, her eyes would seem inquisitive. To anyone who has been trained well enough to read micro-expressions, they would see calculative undertones, eyes trained to look for the smallest possible details. They are eyes that I see every day at InFUSE. The only female on the team, Agent Natasha Romanoff, or the Black Widow.

"Uh, tha-"

"InFUSE, the International Forces of United Superhuman Entities," Tony announces, interrupting me.

I stare at him, my expression remaining (hopefully) menacingly neutral.

"I hacked the SHIELD database and found several messages including both your name, Arianna Beckman, and that of the ILSB." I glower when he says my name.

"However, when I try to find the ILSB itself, I'm blocked from their database. Nothing mentions your abilities." At this, my face changes to a triumphant smirk.

"That is because, Tony, we happen to be an underground organization. You only get in if you're approached by a member. I was recruited when I was twelve."

"You were twelve?" Steve asks incredulously. "Is that really how young they start these days?"

"Sometimes younger," I assure him. "However, they don't go through the same amount of training as any of the older members do. For example, you start working on larger-scale and more complex techniques with your abilities when you're between twelve and fifteen, and weapons training starts when you're thirteen, unless you have previous training or a parent's consent or dissent. The director always makes sure that we stay safe and are not too much out of our comfort zones. It's pretty much like a regular school- they also make sure we improve on basic academic subjects- but with a slightly different set of, shall we say, extracurricular activities.

"Hey, Natasha, looks like you'll have a new sparring partner," Tony comments. She just glares at him.

"So... I told you about my life," I point out. "Well, partially. What about y'all?"

"'Y'all'?" Thor asks. "I do not understand..."

"'Y'all' is slang," I explain, "a contraction of 'you all'. It's mostly used in the south part of the US, but I use it 'cause I can."

He nods slowly. "I see." Even as he says this, I can still see the minute traces of the confused look he wore only moments ago.

"Hey, don't worry, hon. America has lots of issues, one of them being the English language."

There's a moment of silence before Clint pipes up, "So, why again won't you tell us what your abilities are?"

"'Cause... it'll be fun seeing what y'all come up with."

"So we don't even get any starting tips? No hints?"

"Well, it is a little unfair... first and only hint I'll give you: the codename 'Hawk-eye'?" I smirk. "That's real cute."

My enhanced hearing catches Steve mumble to himself as he face-palms, "This will be a very interesting experience."


So. You like? If you did, comment. If you didn't, what do you think should happen next/should've happened earlier? Also, how should the team find out her abilities? This will, of course, involve lots of pranking and immature behavior.

Also, who do you think she should be in a relationship with? Comment! Anyone from the MARVEL is fair play (i.e. an Avenger, an X-Man, a Fantastic Four member, Spiderman, even Flash Thompson) EXCEPT for Nick Fury and Phil Coulson. In Ari's case, I'd rather her love interest be a guy, but send me a solid possibility for a girl love interest and I'll take her into consideration alongside everyone else. Also, try to stay below 30 years old.

So sue me, the ILSB's name is totally cheesy. But hey- I was SO not coming up with one as complicated as SHIELD's.