Decisions, Decisions... Crap...

Barton has remained silent the entire time, worrying me about his personal opinion on this matter. Tony is no doubt sharing the same sentiment as his girlfriend about this subject. Steve had shown doubt in his eyes, probably due to his thoughts on gender. Thor was openly pleased with the idea when it escaped my lips, saying something about finally having someone to spar with. How exactly that's a problem when I'm not an Avenger is beyond me. Bruce, for some reason, is simply sitting there, giving away nothing – not quite so concerning since he'll probably tell me his thoughts on this later.

Natasha, as Clint had introduced her earlier today when they finally dropped in, is staring at me with hostility. She's probably thinking this is a joke, and by the unamused look on her face, one that isn't funny. Kale, opposite the girl, is leaning back and waiting for the others to make up their minds, an absolutely amused grin plastered on her expression.

"Well?" I ask impatiently. "Anyone care to share?"

"You're an idiot if you think SHIELD will allow this."

Wow. Fake ginger's got spunk and attitude. Didn't see that coming, and please mark that that is indeed sarcastic. With her glaring at me like I'm the next person she'll be sent after, it's obvious she has a major distaste for me and my awesome albinoness. But whatever. It's not her opinion that's important in this; just met her this morning and as such, she has no hold in this conversation. The only reason she's here is because she's part of the Avengers and deserves to at least be here for this discussion. That's all, though.

"And you think it's your choice?" I challenge her with a quirked eyebrow.

While her eyes narrow, the others give me slightly shocked looks, as if that was a terrible idea that none of them would ever consider.

"Just because you're the Black Widow," I roll my eyes at her name, "doesn't mean you control the outcome of decisions."

Her eyes narrow all the more, and I could swear that my eyes catch Barton tensing up and watching her carefully. Rather interesting occurrence going on right there.

Natasha stands up slowly, placing her hands on the table. "It doesn't matter if your friend is a part of SHIELD," she starts with. "She never killed anyone," which is not true, by the way, "and you've killed hundreds. SHIELD will not accept someone like you."

A smirk crosses my features, and it seems like the others, minus one hawk, lean back from this interaction.

"Someone like me, huh?" She took a misstep with those words. "Don't you mean someone like you?"

And that shatters her composure as her eyes widen. Her file, as a matter of fact, was handed to me a few years back, before Carrie was my techie. The organization had deemed her unsafe and was going to send me after her once my current mission at the time, which had to do with a corrupted official in India, was complete. But before Leader could send me off to deal with her, a certain agent of SHIELD had gotten to her, flipping her from Russian assassin to government agent. Kudos to Barton on that one, before it slips my mind.

"In case you've forgotten," my voice comes out smoothly as my arms cross in front of me, "you used to do exactly what I did. You stood on top of piles of human remains, some of them only just past the age of adulthood. Maybe a few just below that age. Didn't read that much into your file when it was handed to me."

Her fingers begins twitching on the dark wood of the table.

"Frankly, there's no reason why SHIELD shouldn't hire me. My killing record is more of a recommendation than anything else. And besides," I chuckle at her, "who the hell said I'd be joining SHIELD?"

Bruce smiles softly. "You just want to join the Avengers."

An emphatic nod to him later and my attention returns to the red headed assassin. "My intent is to keep your agency from holding me in some house on the shores of Lake Whatever when Nora gets caught. She and I have a score to settle," I shrug before giving Barton and the widow a pointed look. "And the agency you so proudly serve will not be getting in my way."

Tony bursts out laughing. "So that's it!" As he continues to laugh, I bow gracefully. "I was wondering about that plan of yours when you were in the hospital. So you haven't given that up?" he finishes with a cheeky grin.

"Of course not," is my assurance. "Not one of you will be able to beat her by yourselves, and if you go in as a team, all you'll succeed in doing is sending her underground again. It has to be me that plows her into the dirt." The final sentence comes along with a harsh glare at the table top surface.

"Then we better get you into the training rooms," Steve sighs, getting up from his seat. "You won't be able to take her if you aren't at the top of your game."

A smile spreads across my face. "Which is why I've got a few requests for you, the giant puppy, and my 'brother'."

Tony looks up at the last words, a broad grin spreading over his face only a moment later. It seems he's rather happy with the idea of an adoptive sister, and it looks like he's got a few plans going through his head because of it.


"Sir, is this a good idea?"

Despite the reassurances that the non-SHIELD members of the Avengers had given her, Natasha Romanov is still extremely skeptical. When the entire group had gathered to discuss a mystery topic in the towers, she became uncharacteristically concerned about the new girl's intent. Then again, that would be natural for anyone who was nearly killed by said new girl only a few weeks ago, right?

Fury doesn't even turn to her, preferring to keep his eye on the computer file in front of him. "I see no reason not to allow her into the group," he replies easily. "Despite the record that she acquired, her skills and knowledge will be a great asset. The only thing to worry about is how well she avoided the mission plans for her and her friend."

"That what I mean sir," Romanov tries again, switching focus. "For all we know, this girl is using us to reenter that 'family' of hers. She may have just adopted a persona that satisfied the rest of us so we'd accept her without complaint."

"And if that was the case, it's obviously not working," Fury interjects with a bored tone. "Agent Romanov, you and that girl have a very similar background. Did you know that?"

She narrows her eyes in suspicion before stepping over to him at his encouragement. Without a word, Fury turns his monitor on his office desk around, a video of an operating-like room waiting to start. Her eyes shift to her commander's for a moment, making sure it's okay, before taking the mouse and hitting the play button.

"You'll want a chair if you intend to sit through the entirety of it," Fury suggests before getting up and quickly leaving the office.

"Alright," Natasha mutters, pulling a chair that sits in front of the desk closer and dropping into it.

The first few minutes are rather expected. Men in white lab coats walking around with syringes, scalpels and whatnot, preparing the room for whoever was about to be brought in. A few screams managed to enter the microphone at the time, allowing any viewers to hear the straining voice, what sounded like a scared girl's cry, regardless of passing time. Despite the noise, the men easily identified as doctors continued their work.

During the course of their preparation, Natasha made out an overabundance of needles and syringes, along with multiple containers of what she could only assume to be medicine. Alongside them are only a couple scalpels, which seemed to be put more off to the side than in the actual work area. On another tray is a selection of interrogation implements, ranging from a set of what appear to be brass knuckles to a whip, set close to the operating table. All of these observations lead Natasha to believe this video is about to become much more gruesome than some random surgery recording. And how, only moments later, she wishes she was wrong.

Against her conscience's will, Natasha forces herself to sit through the entirety of the video, much farther than what any of the boys could have handled. When it ends, she closes the viewing window and sits back, her face pale and what she could only assume to be her soul wishing she'd listened to her conscience. Evean Cole's training video would never be for the faint of heart, no matter the amount of editing anyone could put into it.


"Step by step, 'round about. Step by step, we all~ fall~ do~wn. Like toy sol~dier~s."

"Evean?"

My attention briefly turns to Pepper in the doorway, that smile I've gotten so used to having on my face beaming at her. The woman's been so kind to me, giving me a fantastic female friend to assist me whenever Kale has work. Something she was only too happy to oblige with – she should be recommended for sainthood one day. Maybe that'll be my birthday present for her next year.

"Yes, Ms. Potts?"

Her expression flattens and in a voice that shows no annoyance, only tiredness, she replies, "Really? Move on, please."

One snort and laugh later, the two of us are standing side by side as we get lunch ready for those in the tower. Thor's still around, despite wanting to both visit home and his girlfriend, but the crew somehow manages to keep his spirits up. One case in point being the cooking Pepper and I do – he absolutely loves the biscuits and gravy we had for breakfast a few days ago. Another being our now routine training regimen every morning. He's been enjoying those, as well.

Anyway, with him out and about, terrorizing the cabinets of the tower, it's kept the girls here in the building busy trying to make sure he doesn't stuff himself with PopTarts and coffee. In fact, Pepper had given me express permission to hide all the coffee, not even letting Tony and Bruce have any after breakfast ends. Those two abuse it as much as the demi-god does just so they can stay awake in their cave of science, prodding at only Her Grace knows what.

Literally. It's highly probable that only Her Grace actually knows what the hell those two are toying with, besides my DNA and the injection that modified it. Still wondering when they're going to give up on that one, although the sentiment really does fill my heart with warmth.

"Hey," someone calls.

Pepper and I look at each other quickly before both of our sets of eyes turn towards the elevator. Standing there is Barton, one bow on his back, a second in hand. Something in me is praying that particular bow is about to be placed in my arms, because it looks fucking amazing! Given a silver paintjob, the thing is nearly identical to the last one that had been 'borrowed' from the archer, meaning it most likely has all the neat little toys to go with it.

"Let's go, Albino. We've got work to do," he grumbles. Guess he still doesn't like me too much.

With a grin on my face, my eyes see him brace instantly as my feet bounce me over to him, tackling him in a bear hug before snatching the bow and looking it over. That's when the engraving catches my attention. Slowly, deliberately, the eyes in my head turn blank of emotion as the stare they give fixes on the agent next to me. When my sight connects with his, he flinches slightly, probably understanding that something is so wrong, anger and rage would be a preferred reaction at the time.

"What?" he asks shakily.

My finger lifts from the bow, pointing to the engraving on the inside of the bent material. "Where the hell did you find this quote?"

Etched into the metallic material of the bow, the prayer, in complete prose, stands with in black coloring. By the hearts of the predecessors, the beings of the former Leaders soul, and Our Grace of the Ethereal, hallowed be thy name. Forsaken though I am by the world that has given me substance, I shall act as your guardian until the day my being is torn. And only in my moments of weakness and despair shall I ask for your blessing of power fit only for the people of the Sanctuar. This prayer, now etched into the bow, was the only thing that made my assault rifle maintain its condition, despite the way it had been used.

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking 'that's all?' "It was on a ruined rifle in the basement of the house you blew up." Of course it was. "Figured it had some important meaning, especially after your little display at the hospital. Repeated it enough that any of us could probably say it without a thought."

Damn them all. And the worst part is, it wasn't me who put the etching into it, which means the blessing that would usually be on the marked item is not present within the bow. Knowing this, no part of me regrets the next words to fall out of my mouth.

"You people are fucking idiots."

With that, before he can comment, or counter, my feet are speeding me towards the room Tony has assigned to me. Once inside, the door is locked and the bow placed on the bed, waiting for whatever is about to happen. Just because they screwed it all up, doesn't mean it can't be fixed… hopefully. This bow was made for me, a fact blantantly obvious by the color. Whatever the crafter thought when forming the frame and gadgets for this piece of weaponry, Her Grace had plenty of input…

Which means that the crafter had been given express permission by Her Grace to place the words onto the bow and outline them. All that needs to happen now is for me to find something missing in the etching, an integral piece of it that will let me call on those of the Sanctuary. And there it is!

The word 'Sanctuary' is incomplete. How the hell did I miss that the first time looking the thing over? Probably the emotional distress at the waste of both the prayer and the equipment. Which also makes me question why exactly they decided a bow would be the best weapon for me; my accuracy is far better with an assault rifle. Still, the thought that counts, right? Besides, maybe someone else had thought of that and gave me the benefit of the doubt.

Shrugging it all off, my eyes turn to the closet, within holding a very special little piece that will help me do what needs to be done. A sigh escapes me at the misfortune that always come upon those that take the name Saint. This is always the worst part about getting a new weapon to etch into. It can be rather painful.


"Well, what the hell did you do!?"

"What do you mean, 'what the hell did I do!?' She took one look at the bow and called me an idiot!"

Tony glares at the agent standing by the elevator. When Evean had dashed from the room, Pepper immediately ordered Jarvis to call the science boys from the lab. And when they came up, she told them exactly what happened, from beginning to end. At which Bruce disappeared down the hall after her and Tony started to berate Barton.

"Like hell she did! There had to be more to it."

Pepper's hand falls onto Tony's shoulder gaining his slightly surprised attention. "She pointed at it, too. Asked about a quote they put on it."

Her boyfriend's brow furrows in confusion before clearing into understanding. His eyes then turned to Barton with a newfound fury.

"You put that on there yourself!?"

Both of the other individuals in the room look blankly at him, lost on his meaning. Huffing in irritation, he calls for Jarvis to pull up a holoscreen, which appears over the breakfast bar turned bar turned slightly back. Stepping over to it, with the two other right behind him, he goes through a few browser records, pulling up several windows.

Pepper raises an eyebrow at the first one's title. "'The Saint has a God?' Really? They couldn't come up with something better?"

"Pepper, please. These people managed to get an exclusive from the girl about a year ago. They didn't need to be more creative."

Clint's eyes, in the meanwhile, skim over the article, picking up several italicized lines. "She gave them the prayer? To use however they wished? Seems a little…"

"Strange, sketchy, odd, vague… Take your pick."

The archer's stare flickers to the man beside him momentarily, returning almost instantly to the screen before them. "I was going to say ridiculous, but sure. Any of those would fit. Why the hell does she seem so eager to hand these lines out, but the second they're used, she goes postal?"

"That would be," a calm and knowing, feminine voice calls from behind, "because the people have been given permission to use it."

All three turn around swiftly to see Bruce holding Evean up as she smiles in exhaustion. Her grip is tightened on the bow in her hand, several lines painted onto the surface with a strangely crimson substance. The smile on her face turns to a grin as she proudly holds the object up for all to see, a dull gleam where the etchings of a prayer should be.

Joy in her voice, she declares, "Fixed it!"


Despite the stupidity of her idea, Barton has to admit that whatever she did, it made the bow a lot stronger. The draw weight adjusters that had been on the frame are missing, although the bowstring doesn't seem any heavier than his own as he pulls it back. All the tools are still in the same place, although a few have also disappeared, and there seems to be something a little off about the weapon itself. Otherwise, the thing seemed to conform to his hands.

"What the hell did she do?" he mutters, relaxing the draw and looking the item over.

The string used disappears into the frame of the bow, as if it's a piece of the metalwork as well. Every inch of the silver paint that had been placed onto it, at his suggestion to keep her color palette in order, looked to have become real silver. And to top it all off, the etched engraving has taken a soft glow to itself, radiating a light heat whenever touched.

A hand reaches out and places itself on the bow, shocking the man into looking who's joined him. But the moment he blinks while turning, the person's gone from view, if they'd been there at all. Slightly spooked, which is extremely difficult to do to the archer, he slowly turns a full 360 degrees, seeing no one else in the room. Quietly, he moves to the door and looks out into the hallway, his eyes catching no one out and about. With a twitching eye, he pulls his head back into the room, looking to the corners and the cameras place there.

"Something wrong, bird brain?"

In an instant, he whips around swinging the bow as a blunt weapon. The girl behind him ducks and rolls away, a laugh escaping her lips as she bounces up and flips over to stand a few feet away facing him.

"I'm not that evil, you know!"

Glaring at her, Barton tosses Evean the silver plated bow in his hand, which she catches with ease, spinning it in her grip like a baton. While he moves over to the wall and picks up his own bow, she skips to the firing line and holds up her weapon, taking aim for no reason and pulling the bowstring back. When she releases the string, and it flies forward without skimming her forearm, Barton is compelled to look back. Not because she'd released it, but because of the sound that followed.

Embedded in the distant target, over a hundred meters away and in the center dot everyone knows as a bulls-eye, is a crimson arrow. Which promptly liquefies and splatters onto the floor, evaporating into a red mist that disappears after only a moment.

"What the hell!?"

She turns to the archer, a questioning gaze leaving her eyes, and he notices the mark on her right limb. A small cut is placed on the palm of her hand, blood pooling on that one spot but going nowhere, to create a small sphere of red liquid. As his eyes widen, she merely smiles and holds the bow out to him.

"Want to try?"


Sitting at the table, bored out of my mind, my ears catch everything they've been yelling at each other. After taking a single practice shot, and remember to mark the word single, Barton had dragged me up here and called for all the other Avengers to join him. Thor has passed the ability off as magic, which is actually pretty close to the truth. Tony is spouting about how a new symptom has to be added to the list of things Bruce and him need to fix. Barton is yelling at him about something to do with attention and being serious and concerned.

Bruce and Natasha are just sitting back and letting the three of them handle this all. Personally, still waiting on Steve to just pop up and end the whole argument between the two men. This is starting to get a little ridiculous at this point. Especially since Tony's now threatening his teammate with an elastic ooze that would somehow find its way onto the archer's equipment.

Barton's response to this is, "At least try and behave like an adult for one second! And look at the problem here!"

"What problem? She found a new ability she can use. There's nothing wrong with that."

One of Bruce's calloused hands is pinching the bridge of his nose as the two continue their bickering. Understanding the headache forming in his head, my fingers reach out instinctively and tap on his shoulder. The moment his gaze turns to me, slightly upset and with a very miniscule tint of green, a smile crosses my face.

"Do we really need to be here?" I ask him quietly. "Those two seem rather occupied."

Natasha leans closer to us and nods. "Barton called Fury, too," to which both Bruce and I groan. "Oh, don't even. After the crap you just pulled, he'll want to know what's going on around here."

"Would you two shut up!?"

Speaking of Fury, the black clad commander of SHIELD has just exited the elevator and entered the room, aggravation splashed all over his expression. If my hunch is right, he was not happy to be called out just because my abilities are finally starting to take form. Yes, finally. Frankly, it was probably due to the environment the organization had me in that kept them from surfacing sooner.

"Why the hell am I here," Fury grinds out, "instead of back at the base dealing with a rather important mission op?"

Both Barton and Tony visibly stiffen at the commanding tone in the black clad spy's voice. Honestly, you'd think they'd have thought this through before calling him into all of this. If Barton had just let me explain the reason my bow and arrow gig worked the way it did, this all could have been avoided.

My hand raises up from its spot, a grin spreading across my face. "Can I answer!?"

The man gives me a glare, but nods stiffly. "By all means…"

With a quick clear of my throat, and pointing finger, I dive in head first. "Barton's a wuss and didn't like my bow."

Quiet… Well, that's always a good response, right? Except Barton is glaring at me and the others are either shaking their heads or laughing quietly to themselves. What exactly was wrong with the wording? Maybe it was that Barton had been specified in that, or maybe the fact that he had a problem with my weapon. He did have it in his hands before I came in, his eyes examining every angle as if it had the answer to life, the univerce, and everything in it. Of course, it could also be the 'wuss' part, but that's doubtful.

"What?"

Barton's eye starts twitching… Seems he's angry again, although why is far beyond me. My brain just isn't up to working today, is it?

"That's not it," he grinds out. "You literally shot an arrow that was made of your own blood. That then decided to splatter onto the floor before disappearing into literal thin air."

Fury gives Barton a look, one eyebrow raised, before slowly turning to me, said eyebrow dropping while his stare turns critical. At the question in his… eye – got to get used to doing that with him – all I can do is shrug.

"It's just something people like me can do," I explain in exasperation. "Blood manipulation isn't that difficult, assuming you've got the initiative. For instance, Tony and his over-scientific mind probably couldn't do it."

"Hey!"

My eyes, strangely calm and serious in all this, turn to him and the look shuts him up. "Completely serious, Tony. Your mindset of scientific explanations would only hinder learning such an ability. This type of skill requires pure belief that it will work. If anyone can do it," I chuckle quietly to myself, "it's Thor."

Said giant puppy beams happily at the prospect. Looks like the two of us will be spending some quality time sparring later on. Thank Her Grace, too, 'cause the way things have been going, my muscles and stamina have definitely suffered. All that delicious, homemade food is surely affecting my body mass index, and that is a problem for anyone, normal person, agent, Avenger, or me. Which reminds me…

"Am I an Avenger yet?" I ask randomly, unless, of course, you've been following my thought process.

Mr. Man in Black sighs heavily. "Not yet," he replies quietly. "And asking every time you see me isn't going to help. Neither is getting your friend to do so, as well."

To that, all he gets is a shrug and happy grin, both of which seem to cause a great deal of exasperation amongst the group. Can you really blame me? This crap needs to hurry up and be processed before I go insane! Trying to catch a wanted criminal that has a mile long hit list, here.


How the hell did this happen? From sparring with Thor, to taking on Tony, to tackling the Black Widow and Hawkeye together, you'd think that would be enough exercise for one day, right? Wrong. All of them are nearly passed out in random spots throughout the training room, me apparently in the best shape of my life and panting only just enough. How exactly that works when there hasn't been a single day of real activity since arriving to the tower is beyond me. Although that sort of makes sense, when you think about it.

The allowance of atrophy has given a boost to my belief. Meditating with that bow connected me to a few others like myself, albeit slightly different and too far away to be of any current help. Still, it's a connection to others like me, all of whom could probably give some stellar tips on what to do right about now. Maybe this little endeavor won't be so bad. Several of them are already waiting for my call to leave…

Wonder how everyone will take that? Pepper will bawl her eyes out for sure, no doubt about that one. Tony, he'll probably mope about for a few days before trying to hunt me down. And he'll rope a slightly spaced Bruce into helping. Thor will probably mope a lot like Tony, only he'll do it a little more practically and take it out on the targets in the training room. And Steve, well, he'll probably just feel bad 'cause everyone else feels bad – sympathetic guy that he is, even if we don't know each other that well. The agents won't miss me much, that's for sure, although it'll be strange to not see Agent Cuteness anymore… Kale will take it hard, probably attempt to blame herself. Fury will be getting a notice on that just as my existence disappears, though, so that's all good.

Huh… That's a lot more impact than there should be. Maybe asking these people for help had been a bad idea? … Oh well. Too late to go back now.

"Evean?"

My focus turns me around to the door leading back into the main area of the tower. Standing there, a blank expression just like every other time we speak, is Agent Barton.

"Fury wants to see you."

My eyes roll at the mention of SHIELD's director. The man has had all the Avengers question me about different things. A process that has taken several days since it was supposed to be secretive. Sadly, they didn't realize that they couldn't hide such a thing from me. Well, Pepper did pretty damn well, as did Tony and Bruce, but the others failed epically at it. Frankly, it was hilarious when Romanov stared at me like I had caught her about to assassinate the president of the universe… Which is completely probable, now that the thought occurs.

Rolling back and up to my feet, I spin on the balls of my feet and bounce off after Barton. Something important must be up, since the bird doesn't seem to want me following him. That's how you can tell with these SHIELD agents – none of them will ever want me near if it happens to be important.

Well, so long as this doesn't screw up with my plans for Stalker. That brat needs a good kick off her pedestal, and fast.

"Where we go~ing~?" I grin at him. "Is it a fun place?"

Barton stops short and turns to me, a frown stretched over his face. "What the hell? Where the hell did the attitude come from?"

Attitude? Oh!

"That's just me being me!" I cheer. "My mood, morals, and motivation all depends on the day and how I woke up that morning! Of course, there are base levels for them all…" my voice trails along.

"You've got to be kidding me," Barton sighs.

His answer is my head moving back and forth, smile on my face. "Not even a little."

With a huff, he turns back around and starts walking again. Not missing a beat, my own feet move to keep up with him, my grin sticking to my face the entire walk through the bright corridors. You'd think that all these people would have realized that white is only a good color when paired with another bright or neutral color. Long white hallways are great, don't get me wrong, but they tend to be a little… too white… Does that make sense?

"Thank you, Agent Barton."

Once we step into the main room of the lounge floor for the Avengers, my eyes immediately set on the giant Man in Black on the screen. He's huge! Well, since he's probably looking through a webcam, that's pretty obvious. Well, whatever.

"Miss Cole, take a seat. We've got a few things to talk about."

And as asked, my legs bounce me over to the couch, dropping onto the middle seat between Tony and Bruce. Seriously, these two are almost literally my bros now. We spend that much time together, be it in the labs, at dinner, or just looking up stupid videos online to laugh at. Bruce tends to be rather reluctant at those times.

"What's up, Mr. MIB?" Did anyone else see the eye twitch, or was that just me?

Tony bites down on his lip to force back the laugh while science bro two's mouth twitches lightly. Bruce is always the problematic one; it's like he doesn't want to laugh!

"Since there's no real time to do an evaluation-"

"Did it, sent it in, should be in your mail by now," Tony and I twin speak.

… Maybe we've been spending too much time together.

"So what's up, Eye Spy?" I grin, throwing my hands behind my head and reclining back.

Obviously the director of SHIELD had expected something completely different from right now. Behind me, the sound of skin slamming into skin has me imagining Barton hitting his palm onto his forehead, probably from my actions. It's not like anyone can go along and act like Tony Stark in front of the man named Fury. That tends to be a death sentence for most, a life of running for others, and only a very few are fortunate enough to escape… I am one of those few.

With a heavy sigh, as slight understanding creeps into his eyes, Nick fury fixes me an appraising stare. To be honest, the idea of saying 'take a picture – it lasts longer' did enter my mind. But that would upset the man, and my current disposition is already annoying him.

"Anyway," Director Fury grinds out. "The board has made a decision." Oo! Yay! "Until further notice, Evean Cole-"

"Such bullshit!" I had screamed on the balcony five minutes later, flailing.

After an hour of reviewing the decision and figuring out a way to appeal, the only thing any of us have found to do is… nothing… There is almost literally nothing we can do about the decision these council people made. Director Fury had informed me of the decision, stating that the council did not want someone like me on the team. He then went on to say that the first kill the organization ever had me do was the downfall to my hopes of joining the Avengers. Apparently Jacob Nichols is coming back with a vengeance. Stupid council and their stupid prides. It's like they want to die…

So now, with no other option available, I get to wait until either Nora comes in with a gun aimed at my forehead or the boredom drives me stir crazy. Whichever comes first, really. Tony and Bruce have been doing their best to make me feel better about it all, but it's backfired a bit on them. They've put even more effort into finding a cure for my condition, even though it's clear that my 'condition' can no longer be cured. Not by medical means, at least.

… Or chemical… Or anything outside Her Grace's will…

A few days later, standing in the doorway to the lab with Pepper at my side, we watch said science bros type away at their computers. Per usual, they look beat, although this time is a little different. Not only do they look beat, but they look beat to the point that laying down might actually kill them. Giving my only female friend currently in the tower a look, we disappear up the stairs to start yet another dinner. And this one might not be enough to pull the boys away for their work. Well, not long enough to really help them any.

"We have to try, at least," Pepper sighs heavily, already gathering up the ingredients for the wok.

Tonight is stir fry, something Bruce had made fun of tony for when he said all Asian food tastes the same. Okay, so it was me who started the teasing and Bruce just rubbed it in by chuckling a little louder than usual. It was still funny!

"Yeah," I mutter, standing at the range recently installed into the island – two stoves equals twice the space to cook. "Have to try…"

The sound of a stove clicking on, and food being dumped into the pan has me looking over the shoulder at Pepper. Her relationship with Tony has been suffering thanks to all the work he's been doing in the lab. Even after both Bruce and I pointed it out, he's still down there slaving away. It did get two night date out in the countryside, though, so that's… a plus? Or maybe it isn't, since it seems to have made her even more depressed after the lingering high finally wore off. Seeing her like this is killing me, and making a dinner for that same man, even if it isn't just for him, is probably eating at her too.

What now? They won't step away from work unless my condition can be fixed? My hands dump several cups of rice into a boiling pot of water to cook, the lid going on quickly before any more steam can escape. And the only way to fix my condition would to be pulling at the DNA mutations and reversing them. But I've already been told that it would take years to learn that trick. Staring at the pot, my hands pull the lid off, a fork stirring the slowly cooking rice around to even out the moisture. There's gotta be something…

"Are you listening?"

"Huh?"

My eyes turn me around, hand placing the lid back down, to stare at Pepper with her bland stare digging into me. The sheepish smile that crosses my face has her shaking her head in annoyance. How she puts up with my spacing off, especially the extremely frequent ones lately, is beyond me. Heck, how does Kale deal with it?

… I think she said something about chocolate cakes and pies abounding in her room on the giant airboat thingy… Hmm… Now I want cake.

"Seriously, Evean, pay attention!"

Again, my focus snaps back to the real world, a now extremely guilty look spreading over my face.

"Sorry. I can't help it…"

"Look, Evean," Pepper, sighs, taking the fork from my hand and stirring the rice again, "I need you to actually be on Earth right now. The boys are stressed enough as is with the newcomer about to barge in."

That news has my head falling to one side. "Newcomer… Do what now?"

Her hand freezes, eyes turning to me with absolute disbelief. "Weren't you paying attention earlier when Fury was here? It wasn't just the Avenger decision that brought him over here, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" I grin stupidly… before dropping it completely. "I got nothing."

"Please tell me you're joking," he breathes, horrified.

"Not even a little… Who's coming over? And when exactly?"

Of course, when you speak of the devil – ding! – it shall appear… Or he, in this case.

"Lady Evean! I have someone for you to meet!"

Pepper groans quietly, returning to her wok, which I only know notice the overabundance of food in. Huh… Didn't Thor leave yesterday for a nice long break? Maybe that was another thing I missed.

"I should probably have made more rice," I mutter absently, staring at the smaller pot on the table.

The larger one happens to be stuffed under the counter for storage. Because it didn't occur to me that Thor was coming. Not that I knew, really, since obviously my short attention span has gotten to me over the last couple of days.

"Lady Evean? Are you well?"

After a quick jump and quickly fixing a grin, my attention turns to the giant, cuddly puppy of a man at the entrance to the kitchen… With another man who's not as giant, cuddly, or puppy-ish as he could be. Huh. Weird. Guess that's this newcomer that has 'barged in,' although it looks more like Thor just brought him up through the elevator. And how come he's not wearing armor like our cuddly puppy member?

"Should I be scared for his life?" I ask softly, pointing at him. "He seems kind of unprotected…"

Those stares at me for a moment before turning to look at the man behind him, who happens to be glaring at me with pure spite… What'd I do? I didn't get anything on my face while trying to cook, did I?

"Uh, no, he's as he should be… I think… Father said he wasn't to receive any weapons or armor until proving he is trustworthy, so…" the giant puppy trails off, staring upward while trying to think it all through. "No, he's exactly as he should be. Unarmed and as harmless as can be for him…"

My eyes narrow slightly, trying out the new trick a fellow saint had communicated to me last night. No one seems to notice, really, except my target, as he flinches and his eyes widen slightly. It's strange really, the way the colors around me change to dark colors, Thor outlined in blue while the man in front of me is… a swirl? How's that possible? She specifically told me red and blue were two different things. Maybe he's one of those complicated cases stuck between doing good and tearing everything apart. Like a criminal with a conscience… Hmm…

A smile goes over my face, easing everything off of it and shocking him even further as he steps back slightly.

"Welcome to the tower, Loki. You don't hate stir-fry, do you?"


"Is there a reason he's here?"

"See, Pepper? I wasn't the only one not paying attention."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't worry, Captain, you had to actually leave before that announcement, so you're off the hook."

"Oh, come on!"

Current setup is like this. Dinner table in front of us all, with the rotation going Tony, Bruce, Thor at one head, Steve, Pepper, Loki at the other hear, then me. Pepper and I had decided this would be best so that no one would attempt a killing on the demi-god that had, as the science bros put it, Hulked Manhattan. They should just be happy it wasn't me attempting it at the time – Manhattan wouldn't be around anymore.

"How does that not count?" I put at the woman across from me, stoically ignoring the blatant disbelief Tony is giving me.

"How did you not know?"

"Because if he wasn't here for the last few days…" she trails, giving me a pointed look.

My eyes roll. "So? He works with SHIELD. Someone had to ask him how he was going to handle it! Right?"

"Uh, no… not really," the good captain mutters, looking away as he continues his attempts with chopsticks.

"Are you going to answer me?"

The sight has me fixating on the poor military man before sighing and getting up. With fluid and long stride, my feet carry me back into the kitchen where a fork comes out of a drawer before returning. Standing right behind the sad man who really just wants to eat his food, my fingers snatch the chopsticks away and replace with said fork. And said man just sighs in relief before finally eating something. Now I feel really bad about not putting forks out for the others.

"Anyone else want something not made of wood?"

Tony just huffs, using his like a pro much like Bruce, while Peps just smiles and shakes her head. Thor isn't even paying attention as he's already shoveling everything in off his plate with… a spoon… Interesting… That leaves our guest, who's pointedly ignoring the conversation and using his own chopsticks like he was born with a pair.

"Fast learner," I note quietly. "Interesting."

Another huff has me whacking Tony just as I sit back down. He really need to just suck up his anger.

"What the hell!?"

"Be a big boy and cram it."

Pepper chokes back a laugh, hand covering her mouth as she continues to chew. Score for me! It's good to be a girl with a kick ass sense of humor. Not to get Bruce to lighten up a bit more and life in the tower will get far easier.

"Seriously, Evean? What did I do?"

"You're acting like a five year old. Aren't you supposed to be older than me?"

He just huffs again, face red probably in anger and embarrassment. The guy has a huge ego, alright, and being treated like that in front of several people, an enemy included, probably just nailed it against a wall… So it could bleed to death… With a large hole cut into it and a giant stamp saying 'loser' slammed somewhere on it. Yeah, he won't be happy with me for a while. Oh well. He needs to grow up.

"So is anyone going to tell me why exactly you're all refraining from speaking or do I have to tie you all down and start torturing people?"

Again, Pepper, chokes back a laugh, making me smile slightly. She's actually seen some of my work with Tony and Bruce, although they weren't tied down at the time. Instead, they had been forced to go through some yoga, or face something far worse later on. What? They needed to get out of that lab!

After another moment of silence, in which both Tony and Bruce were giving questioning looks to each other, "Alright, science bros, you'll be first."

"Loki's right there and I don't like him."

Said demi-god rolls his eyes, still ignoring us, although not as much as it seemed.

"Like I said, grow up."

Bruce rubs at his neck, staring just past me at the topic. "Look, Evean, we're just not quite sure what's really… safe to talk about in front of him. For starters, anything we say could be turned around on us. Plus, the guy's the god of lying, and that's not usually someone you start an important conversation with, so…"

Slowly, my eyes turn to Loki, who freezes, chopsticks in his mouth, as an analytical gaze lands on him. Just as slowly, he pulls the utensils from his mouth and returns my gaze with a smoldering glare, probably annoyed at whatever disrespect he feels right now. And just like before, my head turns back slowly to Bruce, catching Peps as she clenches down to stop her laughter, and staring at him blankly. The man fidgets a bit in his seat, Tony leaning away from the table to be out of the line of fire.

"And how is that a problem? Just learn how to detect lies."

They all give me a blank stare, Pepper excusing herself and dashing away from the table.

"You think you can catch me lying?"

Dropping the dramatics, since my main audience has had enough and ran off to get under control, switching my attention is instant. He's staring at me, unamused and bored, hand propping up his head.

"Do try. Just like all other, you will fail tragically."

"Lie. Someone can catch you lying." He flinches lightly, glaring at me. "My guess is female, most likely your mother considering she herself raised you and knows all the telltale signs. Now, the real question is, what makes you think you can get past me?"

And another mouthful of fried rice enters my mouth, my entire plate covered in it. God, I love Asian food.

"You must be joking," he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. "My mother does not count amongst the many. She is required to know me well and catch me. That's the job of any parent."

"Wrong. A parent's job is to raise a child to the point where the child may make their own choice. At that point, they are only required to offer guidance when necessary or requested." My eyes land on him again, swallowing what in my mouth. "Catching a child doing something wrong is never in the equation. That is a piece of wisdom passed down to keep a kid from treading down a dangerous path."

He rolls his eyes yet again. "And how does that make what I say untrue? She has to learn how to catch me, and do so quickly, in order to be able to tell when I speak false, no?"

"No," I deny easily. He does a doubletake, giving me a blank look as I continue. "A mother does not have to learn when a child is lying to catch them. She merely has to smile and say it and a child will admit it."

This time, he actually laughs. "You have to be joking now. There is no possible way that is true, not once did I ever admit to lying as a child-"

"And you're lying now."

His words freeze in his mouth.

"Your eyes gave it away," I tell him with a smirk in place, watching his face fall. "Like every other person I've ever interrogated, your eyes change at the thought of lying. Some show signs of panic, others excitement. Yours," I chuckle lightly, "happen to cloud over with experience and knowledge. You know how your trade works, and as such use it to your advantage. Otherwise, they're a vibrant and curious emerald.

"Nice try, God of Mischief. But you won't get past me."

With that, my now empty plate is lifted from the table and I return it to the kitchen and place it in the dishwasher. Walking back through the dining room, my eyes glance at the others. Current setup is like this. Tony, Bruce, Thor at the head, Steve, Loki, the four boys who had merely stood by and watched staring at the demi-god in amazement. And the demi-god? Well he's current staring down at the plate in front of him, frozen still.

"Don't let it get to you, Loki," I call over my shoulder, passing by Pepper with a smile. "That's what happens with you screw with a Guardian and her skills."