Oh, boy. This one, this one is totally insane. Quite the roller coaster, if I do say so myself and also really long, so sorry about that. Definitely a lot of normal Lucy moments, but also a lot of foreshadowing as to how Lucy became Pyro. I really hope you all like it, I know I really do, but let me know what you think! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Much love,

freedomintensifies


"Suit up."

I flinched at the piercing noise in the middle of the pitch black room. I threw my bag onto the bed and flicked on the light, "Natasha?" I practically groaned.

She just continued to sit dangerously still on my sofa with her tactic suit already zipped up. "Suit up," she repeated, her voice was almost bored.

I ran a hand, sleepily down my face. It was what? Eight? Nine in the morning now? I hadn't slept at all. "But -" I gestured to the inviting comforter that I more than anything wanted to curl up into, "I just got home."

She stood up, gracefully walked past me, and only gave me a mere look over her shoulder. "Not my problem, we leave in five."

I let out a loud, over exaggerated sigh before stomping towards my closet and grabbing my uniform, it still smelled like pine trees and gunpowder from a few days prior. I slowly slipped it on and walked into the bathroom to make myself look semi presentable. My makeup from last night was smeared across my eyes causing me to resemble a raccoon and my hair was in knots. Having already given up on the day, I threw it up into a pony tail and left. There's nothing I could do now.

I walked towards the landing pad through the broken debris of previously breathtaking coffee tables and plush white sofas to meet everyone out in the fairly warm morning air. To my disappointment, everyone seemed to be in a better mood than I was.

The quinjet was open, so I snuck in taking a seat right next to Clint. "So what's the plan?" I whispered and he glanced at me, an evident smirk on his face. "What?"

"Did she yell at you?" He chuckled.

I raised an eyebrow, "Who? Natasha?" I glanced at the redhead who was leaning over Bruce, eyeing up some coordinates. "No, why?"

Clint just shook his head, "Just wait, you really pissed her off this time."

My face flushed, "I did?"

"You were out way past curfew."

I snorted, "I'm nineteen, she can't tell me what to do."

Clint just shook his head, that stupid smirk still pasted on his lips, "She can when there's an artificial intelligence trying to destroy the human race, but no, you go ahead and tell her you're a big girl."

I gulped, "Crap."

He nodded, "My thoughts exactly."

Natasha seemed to notice my presence and immediately straightened her back, her entire aura turned rigid. "Cooper," she shouted and I jumped out of my chair, stumbling slightly, and if I wasn't so nervous, I may have commented on Clint's silent giggles. "What do you think you're doing?"

I gave her a nervous smile, "Sitting, ma'am."

She just smirked, "Well, I hope you enjoyed it because you will be tailing the Quinjet all the way to our destination."

My shoulders sagged, "Really?" I looked down at my scuffed combat boots. "Can I at least know where our destination is?"

She flashed me a coy smile, "It's a surprise." She clapped her hands together and made a shooing motion with her hands, "Now get to it."

I glanced at Clint then Steve then Tony then anyone who might show some sign of mercy, but they all just shrugged and let the Queen B rain hell upon a tired, idiotic semi-adult. I hopped off the platform and walked towards the edge of the building.

"Sparky, we leave in two!" Tony called and I gave him a less than enthusiastic thumbs up, this was going to be a long day.

Six hours later…

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired," I spat, wiping a bead of sweat from my temple. "But surprisingly better." Natasha looked up over her shoulder with a shy smile on her lips, maybe that was her plan all along.

"Good," Steve finished up lacing his boot and stood up, ultimately towering over me. "So do you wanna hear the game plan?"

We probably landed all of three minutes ago, and I was already getting antsy. The suspense is killing me. "Yes," I drawled out, cracking each of my knuckles.

He pointed past me towards an old warehouse, no a ship of some kind, in a deserted shipping yard, "We're going to go in there and get Ultron."

I raised an eyebrow and started to jog behind him as the team started to make their way towards the building that looked like it belonged in a horror movie. "Wait, that's it?"

"That's it," he responded, not even breaking stride.

"That's not a plan."

I finally got the rhythm where I could walk next to him, "What else do you need to know?"

I obnoxiously tapped my chin, "Hmmm, let me think. Why is it so early? How did you find this place? How do you know Ultron is here? How do you know we won't die? What ever happened to a 'game plan' that actually involved legitimate plans?"

He snorted and glanced down at me, "Are you done?"

I flashed him a cheeky grin, "Yeppers."

He cleared his throat, "Well, it's not early, it's noon. We tracked where the vendor for Vibranium was assuming that Ultron would trace the strongest metal on Earth. I don't know if we are going to die, but if we do we'll walk it off, and I told you the plan."

I nodded, absorbing all the information he threw at me, "Noon is still early."

He laughed, "Really? Out of everything I just told you, that's the one you're stuck on?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "Do you really expect anything else?"

He threw open the door to the warehouse and dropped his voice so I could barely hear him, "No, I don't. Stay behind me." I smiled at him one last time and gave him a curt nod before we navigated our way through wires and ladders and fairly poorly lit spaces in order to attempt to find the robot when noises started to vibrate against the walls. Sharp, cruel, evil words towards none other than Anthony Stark.

"Stark is... He's a sickness!"

"Junior." Tony sang as he lead the pack into the area, "You're gonna break your old man's heart."

Ultron was no longer the piece of scrap I had seen once before, but he now was at least two Thors tall and almost life like. His features were animated and sarcastic making him look almost...human. It was even more horrifying, but his condescending voice was still the same, "If I have to."

Steve stepped up next, leaving me behind the old creepy door, but having Thor right at his side, "Nobody has to break anything."

Ultron almost smiled at him, "Clearly you've never made an omelet."

Stark's voice was distorted by the suit but his usual charisma shined through, "He beat me by one second."

I continued to peek out from behind the creaky warehouse sliding doors. The paint was peeling and it smelled like led, but I still had a clear view of everything, including Barton and Romanoff on the upper deck. The person, or should I say people, I saw next, however, shot chills up my spine. The Maximoff twins.

"Yes," the man with silvery grey hair stepped forward, that's the guy that tried to kill me, "He's funny. Mr. Stark. It's what?" He gestured towards the bombs on the lower deck, "Comfortable? Like old times?"

"This was never my life."

Steve stepped even more forward, almost standing next to Stark, and I couldn't help but step out, too. The moment I did, all three of their eyes landed on me, and the twins didn't look all that menacing when I got a clear view. They looked angry for sure, but it was a look I could sympathize with, they were angry not out of spite but out of revenge. They looked broken and lost. I have, too. "You two can still walk away from this," Rogers interjected.

The girl pouted out her lip, she had to only have been a couple of years older than me, just a kid. "Oh, we will," her accent was more potent with the sarcasm.

"I know you've suffered," Steve tried again.

Ultron scoffed and let out a fit of laughter, it was more hysterical than maniacal. "Captain America," he spat. "God's righteous man. Pretending you could live without a war." My eyes instantly shot towards Steve. In a way, Ultron was right. We always fight, but when we don't, we don't really have a life outside of this. We don't have anywhere to go, no loved ones to run to, all we had was each other. That's more certain for me at least, but I can't even wrap my mind around what Steve went through. He left his entire life behind in the forties and has had to accept that they moved on without him. So now, the fight's all he has left. Well, the fight and us. He still has his oddball family.

Ultron continued to laugh at himself, "I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but…"

Thor spoke up, "If you believe in peace, then let us keep it."

"I think you're confusing 'peace' with 'quiet.'"

"Uh huh," Stark hummed, "What's the vibranium for?"

"I'm glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan." Ultron ripped Tony forward and then threw him back into a crate. I jumped up to help him, but as soon as I did, Tony shot off and hit Ultron back. Both of them banging against the metal walls, an even match.

Next thing I know, Steve's on the ground with both the twins and Ultron's minion after him. I tried to help him, but I was pinned against the wall. Each limbed tied down, leaving me useless. "What the hell?" I grumbled, trying to figure out what was holding me there, and then I realized it was nothing. It was a force. It was Wanda. I looked up and saw a mysterious smirk on her lips. I ground my teeth and clenched my jaw and did everything in my power to move. Something just made me furious knowing my family suffered just as much as hers did and she thinks she has the right to work with some murderbot. It wasn't fair. I strained my neck, each muscle popping as I moved my head, then my arm, then my leg. I was pushing against her and her just for a fraction of a second her confidence faltered. That mistake allowed me to throw myself forward engulfing into flames. I slammed my body into her, so she hit the wall, hard. The worst I did was sting her, but the shock definitely would hold her for a few minutes. At least, I thought.

I got up and turned around to punch a robot, but as soon as melted a hole through his wiry chest, I saw her. A tall woman with curly blonde locks that trailed down her shoulders. Her face was round, her features were soft, and she looked completely out of place. She was too innocent for all this violence.

"Mom?" I whispered, dropping the robot at my feet. "What are you doing here?" Chatter started on the coms, but I was too perplexed as to why my dead mother was standing just yards ahead of me. She had bare feet and a long white dress. She was beautiful. I tried to call for her again, but this time she ran. She turned the corner and started sprinting, leaving me in the dust. "Mom, wait!" I called after her, forgetting everything and just chasing her. I followed her through stairwells, and discarded shrapnel, and all the chaos taking place around me. I could hear gunshots and explosions and screams, but I didn't care. I just wanted her. She took a sharp left and disappeared through a small, wooden door. It was different from all the others. It had red paint and a gold door knob, the paint had chipped and the door knob was rusted, but I knew this door.

I slowly lowered my hand and turned the handle, listening to each bolt and lock click. When I opened the door, I saw something I hadn't seen in years. My home. Everything was so familiar that I forgot to argue the peculiarity of it. All the cups were in the same place on the kitchen table that sat straight across from the front door. The mail was still piled high on the granite countertop. The walls were still the same warm yellow that reminded me of creamy butter. The cabinets were still white, the carpets were still straight, the windows were still bright with sunbeams. Everything was the same, even she was.

Dad always said her eyes looked like sunshine through a glass of whiskey. Something soft and kind, something you wanted to come home to. I just assumed that's how a mother's eyes were always supposed to look. They were supposed to be welcoming and warm and nurturing, but when I saw her standing in front of our kitchen window, clutching her coffee cup close to her chest, I only saw one thing in her eyes. Fear.

"Mom? Mom, why are you here?" I asked stepping closer, my boots muffled by the fuzzy carpet. "What's wrong?" I took another step forward, but each advance I made she pressed herself further and further against the counter. "Mom?" I reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched before I even brushed her.

"Don't," she warned putting up a cautious hand. "Don't you dare touch me."

I cowered at her tone and started to creep away, the heartwarming dream of coming home to her after school tarnished by her words of hate, "Mom? What are you talking about?"

She slammed her coffee cup onto the table, making the nuke warm liquid slosh over the edges, and glared at me. The memory of her kind face became twisted into one with pure anger and disgust. "Are you really that stupid?" She scoffed, flinging her arms about with every jagged word, "You haven't figured it out yet?"

I kept edging away, I didn't want to see her like this, I don't want to remember her like this. "You destroy everything you come in contact with! That's why I don't want you to touch me."

"What?" I croaked out as my elbow brushed against the front door, I had backed away the entire distance of the house, there wasn't anywhere else to go.

"You're the reason why we're all dead," she growled. "Your father, your mother, and your poor little sister are all dead because of you." She raised her hand back as if to slap me, and I winced at the harsh movement, even just the thought she might hurt me. "That's right," she laughed lowering her arm, "I can't lay a hand on you because you're the reason we're in this mess in the first place." She shrugged and glanced at her perfectly groomed nails, "Not that you could hurt me anymore than you already have, but just to be safe."

"I didn't kill you, Mom," I whisper as silent tears stream down my face. "That wasn't me, I didn't cause that blast."

She snorts covering her mouth as she bursts into a fit of laughter, "Oh, I'm sorry." She fans herself with her hand, "But you did and you know it, don't you? When are you going to stop with the act?" She leans so close to my face all I see is those whiskey eyes, "You killed your mama," she said in a sing song voice.

"I didn't," I rasped.

"Oh," she sighed, "but you did." She placed both hands on her hips and started to walk away, "You did because when that building blew up, that helicarrier was in no way close to our floor, so it would have been impossible for that explosion to be of that magnitude with nothing to cause it." She turned around and gave me an eerie smile, "Except it wasn't nothing. It was you."

"What?" I whimpered, I was shaking so hard that I hadn't moved from my spot against the red lacquered door.

"Lucille, baby," her southern drawl was becoming more evident as the sarcasm rose in her voice, "you are dumber than dirt, I swear to goodness." She began to mimic what she was talking about with over exaggerated gestures, "You see your super duper freaky powers had to change sometime, and that wasn't when the building collapsed, it was when you changed."

"No. No, it wasn't, I would have remembered."

"Yeah," she grinned. "But you hit your head pretty hard on that fall, might have made all those memories get jumbled up."

"No, that's not what happened," I sobbed, refusing to acknowledge that everything my dead mother was saying may be true. "Why would I change then, huh? Something would've had to cause it."

She simply shrugged, "I don't have all the answers, doll face, but I just thought you should know the reason why I'm six feet under is because of you." She jabbed her finger in my direction. "And baby, I hate you because of it."

I gulped and tried to calm my breathing, but it just kept getting faster and more rapid. "No," I sobbed. "I'm sorry you're dead, but no. I didn't kill you. I help people. I save people, I don't kill them."

She smiled raising her fingers in a snapping motion, "Denial isn't going to do you any good, sweet cheeks." There was something so alluring about her, something so foreign yet so familiar. I slowly backed away from my hiding spot and took shaky, hesitant steps towards. I just needed to know if it was her or not, if my mom really did hate me. I took step after step except this time, she didn't back away from me. She stood tall and proud and waited for me to meet her. I took one more step and I was inches from her face, I was only a few inches taller than her, but under her gaze, I felt like a small child.

I reached out a hand and stroked my fingertips against her cheek. Her skin was smooth and soft just as I remembered, but wherever I touched little sparks would erupt, I was hurting her. I was burning her. I ripped my hand away, but it was too late, her face had already started to morph into a charred piece of rotting flesh. That's how she looked when I identified the body that was too disfigured to recognize, that's what she was turning into now. I killed her again. "I'm sorry, Mommy," I sobbed holding my hand against my mouth to stifle the cries. "I didn't want this to happen. I didn't mean it. I love you so much." As what was left of her started to melt away, I tried to blurt out all the countless things I had wanted to say one last time. It didn't matter what she told me or how she feels about me, she was still my mom, no matter what. "I miss you," was all I could think of.

She flashed me one more sickly sweet grin as her lips began to crack and split before snapping her fingers and disappearing forever, "Time to wake up, baby girl."

I jolted awake, to see Steve, with a horrified expression on his face, just staring at me. I ran the back of my hand under my eyes, wiping away the stray tears. I don't know how he found me, but he did. I was crammed under a rusted staircase, shaking harder than I care to admit. "You okay, Luce?"

I nodded and pasted on the same fake smile that I could see every time I shut my eyes, "I'm fine."