I do not own Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

It was depressing day. And the whole world seemed to agree. The sky was dark and the clouds threatened rain. The cold December wind blow through the empty tree branches and caused trash to glide down the street. The sidewalk was nearly empty, but for a few bums with nowhere to go. There was nothing to remind people that Christmas was only a week away. There were no Santas with buckets for donation to the Salvation Army, no Christmas decoration on the buildings, nor where there any Christmas carols to be heard. Then again, that was normal for this part of New York.

The atmosphere fit the day so well that Max almost found it cliché. If her life was a movie, and if God was the director, then He had definitely set the scene up perfectly for her to fake her death. She pulled her jacket closer to her, hoping that it would get rid of the cold. It's not that she wanted to do it; it was just that, as Lance had told her, faking dead gave you more freedom than running away. There was no one looking for you if you were dead.

God damn Lawrence Turner and his southern charm, Max thought, he was the entire reason she had agreed to this. He had been the one that introduced her into the mercenary world a year before, when Max had just turned sixteen, but that was another story. And now look where she was, about to fake her own death.

Lance had told her how they'd do it and not to worry because his plan was foolproof. She might've said that, due to past experiences with his so called "foolproof" plans, this couldn't possibly be so: she might've, but then she'd be wrong. She had seen how much he had thought this out, even helped him with the more disgusting details. She shivered, not at the cold, but at the memory of how they had gotten a body that would be used in her place; grave robbing, no matter whether if the body was in the ground or not, was a gruesome business.

The whole faking her death had come up when Lance had told Max that she was ready to start making the big bucks. He had told her that a few acquaintances of his had a job lined up somewhere in the Amazon Rain Forrest and that they'd offered him a part. They'd also said that the job needed one more person, so, without waiting to hear her opinion, he had signed her up.

When he had told her what he was planning for them to do, Max went berserk. She had yelled at him for not asking her first, for not thinking that she wouldn't want to be in, and for thinking that she'd want to spend her life as a mercenary. She hoped that she had made her point, but somehow, in his calm southern tone, he had convinced her to agree. He had told her that that would be best, that they needed her shooting skill, that no one here cared about her, and that he did. He had said that he'd be there for her, and that he'd look out for her. He promised that he would make sure that the job wasn't too hard for her first major one, not counting all the small ones that she had done for local gangs.

She had done everything Lance had told her to do on that last day. She hadn't acted any differently around the few friends she had, hadn't said anything that would've made them think something was wrong, and left them with only a 'See you later' and a 'Merry Christmas.'

Max walked into her apartment building. As she stalked, she glared at everyone she passed; a normal habit of hers. Before knocking on the door, Max put on a cheery smile. It was the same smile she used whenever she saw Mrs. Perkins, who had been like a grandmother to Max since they'd moved in three years ago. She was a petite elderly woman with snow white hair and loving brown eyes. She had never kicked anyone out of her building for missing rent and Max thought that she was an over caring person. Lying to Mrs. Perkins would be as difficult for Max as it would be for her to lie to her own grandmother would be. Then again, her grandmother was six feet under.

Mrs. Perkins opened the door. She smiled up at Max and said, "Merry Christmas, Maxine dear. I hope you'll come in."

"I can't ma'am. I'm in a bit of a rush, sorry," said Max, reaching into her pocket. She withdrew a sealed envelope. "I just came to drop off the rent for a couple of months." She handed her the envelope.

Mrs. Perkins eyed Max peculiarly, as if knowing something was off. "Dear, don't try to tell me that your mama knows about this. I know her, and being a waitress down at Al's place doesn't pay enough to pay for several months rent."

"Well, maybe I got a job," said Max, wanting to end the conversation.

"Maxine, the day you get a job is the day I get a gun," said Mrs. Perkins. This phrase had been used, though normally in reverse, in many conversations the two had had concerning Mrs. Perkins safety. "Now, whatever you've done to get this money or whatever you're planning on doing, I want you to think about. You're just seventeen, not even fully grown, you don't need to go down the wrong path."

"Ma'am, I'm not in trouble, nor am I going to be," she said. She hugged the old woman. "Don't worry about me, just worry about locking the door behind you. It's a big bad world out there; not everyone is as nice as you."

"Maxine, you're a sweet girl. Don't ever let anyone change that; especially a man," said Mrs. Perkins.

Max knew exactly what she was talking about and wanted no part of it. She simply smiled and said, "Merry Christmas, Mrs. P." she turned and walked away without waiting for a response.

In her own apartment, Max's mother wasn't home; and to a certain extent, she was happy about that. She didn't want to stay too long; already she knew Lance would be waiting.

Max quickly wrote down a note for her mother, telling her that she was with friends and that she'd be back around midnight. She was tempted to write 'I love you,' on the bottom, but she didn't. She hadn't told her mother that she loved her for years. Of course she did feel that way, it was just that Max blamed her for everything; the move, school, her father, everything.

Leaving the note, Max took one last look around the apartment. She couldn't bring anything with her, because Lance had said that it would seem suspicious. All she could do was hope to come back one day. She sighed and left the building through the fire escape stairway, welcoming the cold.

OK, so I had originally had this as a longer chapter with the next chapter as a part of it, but for some reason it just bugged the hell out of me (maybe because its chapter 13? unlucky and evil) so I broke it into two. I'm still working on the other chapter, though. Sorry for the late-ish update, my summer vacation is almost over and I have a lot of summer work for school that I need to finish.

I'm just going to Maxine Max from now one, FYI. Hope I don't confuse anyone. I might have her referred to as Maxine, though.

Thank you for reading. Please review.