Hey ya'll! This is a shorter chapter, but it's got a lot going on. I hope you guys are surprised, because it took a lot of convincing myself that it was a good idea. Even if you're not surprised, I hope you at least like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognize from the Avengers, or Marvel. (Duh)


"You know in all our time, nothing like this has happened. I mean, there was an accident once, where our cooling systems broke... Oh man was that bad." the kid who worked at the Los Angeles Blood Bank shook his head.

"We're sorry to do this, we've never had an incident like this before either." the black haired woman who worked for Quest shook her head. "My boss tells me that uh, this woman calls the place she donated at flipping out because she found out she has some sort of blood disorder, and next thing I know I'm being sent to every blood bank in the state trying to track down her red and whites." she shrugged as she pushed a long strand of hair behind her ear.

"Man that sucks." he shook his head as he led her down a row.

"Even worse, I had tickets to the game tonight." she scoffed. "Court side, do you have any idea what I had to do to get those?" she asked with a scowl. "I had to give them to my brother and his bitch wife- Excuse the language."

"No, no, god, I'd be saying the same thing." he shook his head. "That seriously blows."

"You're telling me." she shook her head with an unhappy sigh.

"Let me see- Ah, here we are." the guy stopped at the right cooler and looked at his clipboard, and then opened it. He looked at the blood bags before he pulled one out triumphantly. "06553210." he said and she smiled as he put it into the small cooler she was holding. "Alright, I'm gonna need you to sign there." he said handing her the clipboard. She signed a wavy line and dated it and then followed him to the front. "So, what's up with the blood? Think she's a mutant? Sometimes I wonder how many mutants have donated blood. Man, if we knew, which ones were mutants, what do you think would happen to the blood?" the guy asked.

"She not a mutant." Leona said as she walked out the door, adding under her breath. "Not yet."


"Kayla, don't touch that." I said to my daughter who was eying a control to the cherry picker Barton was currently using to practice with. He had a bow in his hand and was lining up his arrow, getting ready to release when her little hand shot out and pushed the button quickly. Barton yelped, stumbling forward, but catching himself quickly. "Makayla what did I just say!" I asked as she collapsed in a fit of giggles. "I am so sorry Clint." I called up to him.

"It's okay Minnie." he said with a small grin. "She had to get it out of her system eventually, right?" he asked. I shook my head and led Kayla back to the patio and sat her down at the glass top table where Natasha was sitting, typing on a laptop. I went into the house and brought back a pile of white paper and her box of crayons. She instantly went to work, coloring while I went back to where Steve Rogers was trying to figure out the touch screen phone.

"What are you doing?" Natasha asked after a moment of watching the young girl curiously. She swung her feet back and forth as she colored and looked at Natasha before she looked at the page again.

"Coloring." she said, and looked back up at the older woman. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just working." Natasha said and Kayla picked up a red crayon.

"Are you related to my mommy?" she asked and Natasha smiled lightly.

"No."

"Cuz you have red hair."

"So does Pepper." Nat pointed out.

"Yeah and she's my auntie."

"But they're not related."

"Does that mean you're my auntie too?" Kayla asked and Natasha froze.

"You'd have to ask your mother." she said finally and Kayla shrugged.

"Cuz I'd like it if you were my auntie too. You're pretty and I like your hair, it's bouncy."

"Your hair is bouncy too." Natasha said and she nodded.

"I know, you look like you could be my auntie." she said. The table was silent for a few minutes, Kayla occasionally putting down her crayons to pick up a new one. She finally dropped one with a satisfied smile. "Done." she said and picked up the paper. Natasha expected her to go running into the house, but instead she went around the table and pulled herself onto Nat's lap.

"Oh, uh..."

"It's you and me!" Kayla said showing her the picture proudly.

"That's really good." Natasha said and Kayla smiled before she hugged the older woman.

"Kayla, honey." I walked out of the house, having missed the entire exchange with the two. "Leave Ms. Romanoff alone, she's working." I said and Nat looked up at me, looking a little lost and a little emotional.

"It's okay." she said and cleared her throat. Kayla let go of her and kissed her cheek before she climbed off of her lap and went back to where her crayons were. Natasha got up and walked into the house muttering something about being right back.

"Kayla?" I asked and she smiled up at me.

"I like her hair." she said and I laughed as I kissed the top of her head.

"Someday your hair might look like that."

"Why isn't your hair curly?"

"Because it's always been a little wavy, but not curly."

"Why is my hair curly?"

"Because your daddy's is." I said and she nodded, before picking up a brown crayon and furiously scribbling something on her paper.

"Mommy?" she asked and I sat down next to her, puncturing the top of a capri sun with the straw for her.

"Hm?" I asked. She paused in her coloring and then looked at me with a smile.

"I love you." she said with a grin and I laughed.

"I love you too sweetheart." I kissed her forehead. "Do you like it here?" she nodded as she looked back at her picture.

"Yeah, it's fun here. Are we going to go back?" she asked and I shook my head.

"Probably not." I said and she nodded.

"I know." she said and continued to color. I chuckled and shook my head as I stole a sip of her capri sun. "Mommy!" she whined and I laughed.

"Okay, I'll get my own." I laughed.


The hardest thing one has to adapt to when their freedom has been taken from them is the scheduling. To know that someone else decides when you wake up, when you shower, eat, use the bathroom, and eventually go back to sleep, that's the hardest. But then, when you're in a hospital, you're forced to talk about your problems. Talk about how you feel about the way they treat you. What a fucking joke. Brian couldn't stop himself from scoffing at that thought, catching the attention of the doctor who was running the little group therapy session he was currently subjected to.

"Would you like to add something Brian?" she asked in that fucking voice that was supposed to be soothing, but made him want to take her fucking red pencil and use it to cut her voice box out. He just steadied his glare on her; she finally turned back to the patient who was talking.

"Brian," Dr. Gray called to him as he stood up after group. "I'd like to see you in my office." He scowled as one of the large orderlies put his hand on Brian's shoulder and led him to Dr. Gray's office. He sat down across from the desk and the orderly stepped back. "Brain, you're still not participating during group." she sighed. "What's going on?"

"Maybe I don't feel like spilling my guts to that group." he said simply.

"I've spoken with Dr. Drake, he says you don't talk to him either." she said, looking at him over the top of her glasses. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Maybe find me someone who knows molecules from atoms." he said and she frowned.

"A molecule is made from two or more atoms." she pointed out and the corner of his lip twitched slightly. "Is scientific knowledge important to you?"

"Seeing as it's what got me put here, yeah, it's important." he said.

"No Brian, you got yourself put here." she said shaking her head. "What you did was wrong, do you understand that?" his eyes darkened at the thought.

"Well, now, Doc, that's just from a matter of perspective." he said shaking his head.

"You think that killing your wife was okay?" she asked and he smirked at her.

"I'm already here Doc, and I know I ain't gettin' out. So who cares what I have to say about it?" he asked with a smirk. The orderly took him by the shoulder and led him from the room after Dr. Gray nodded to him.

Three days passed. Three days of being awoken at seven, force fed breakfast, forcibly showered, dressed, teeth brushed, brought to the common room, lunch, group, solo therapy, and then the time he had to himself before dinner, and then bed.

On the fourth day he was brought to the director of the hospital's office, where an attractive, sharply dressed man was sitting, talking casually with the director. "Ah, Dr. Banner." he smiled as he stood up and extended his hand. Brian looked at the director, before he shook the man's hand. "I'm Norman Osborn, pleasure to finally meet you." he smiled.

"I know who you are." Brian muttered as he looked between the two men.

"Brian, please sit down." Director Sherman said. "The state has decided that you can be released into Mr. Osborn's care, as your sponsor."

"Didn't know I have a sponsor." Brian said looking Norman over.

"Yes, well... Neither did we." Director Sherman muttered darkly. "But, either way, they've decided there's nothing else we can do for you, you'll be expected to still take your medication, and you need to see a therapist once a week as well, but Mr. Osborn is ready to take you now." Director Sherman said. Brian looked Osborn over; he just sat there, smirking.

Not a word was said through all of the paperwork, until they got to Norman's limo. "What is this state bullshit?"

"Well I am your sponsor Brian," Norman said with a smirk. "And it does help to have friends in very high places. Like you do."

"So what's the point of taking me out?" Brian asked and Norman looked at him.

"Why don't we go get a drink?" he asked with a small smile. "I'd rather discuss it over a whiskey sour myself." They got to a bar and Norman ordered a whiskey sour while Brian shot down two white Russians, and then slowly sipped a third. It had been years since he had a drink; aside from the few times he was able to convince the night orderly to share his bottle with him. "I've been having a problem lately, with your son." Norman smirked as Brian looked up at him. "A few years ago, there was an accident; Bruce was turned into something else."

"That boy never was right." Brian admitted. "Rebecca never would admit it, but there's something wrong with him. At a genetic level."

"Yes, I know about your accident." Norman said. "I guess it was only a matter of time before Bruce had his own huh?" he asked and Brian nodded.

"What happened?"

"Some tests, trying to jump start the super soldier program."

"You HYDRA?" Brian asked looking Norman over.

"Actually, HAMMER. We work with HYDRA though. Wait until you see Leona. How long's it been? You'll like her." Norman grinned. "But, that's not the point, the point is, your son changed, he's a superhero now." he shrugged. "An Avenger."

"That big green thing on the news. That's Bruce?"

"Yes sir it is." he said and Brian scoffed.

"So what do you want?"

"Well, the Hulk's gone and got himself married, had a kid. We're pretty sure she's gonna be more like him than he would admit." he shrugged. "We want her, and we want to test her. She might be the secret to creating a new race. There's also the mother. She's pissed off Leona pretty badly..."

"So it's revenge?"

"I like to think of it as a necessary sacrifice to start the new world." Norman smiled, before lifting his drink. "Do we have a deal?"

Brian thought for a second before a grin crossed his lips.

He lifted his drink and clinked it against Norman's.

This could be fun.