This is the day. My eyes open with a snap. Sunlight is streaming in through my window. Mid-morning, probably around nine a.m. I got good at reading the time from watching the sun during all those months living on rooftops and in alleyways. I've slept through the night without any nightmares or Stark barging into my room, so already the day is looking up.

Stark's words from last night (unless it was this morning?) echo in my head.

Trust me. Trying to constantly figure out who you are and predict your own moves—it's boring and stupid and it's also pointless. We change. Always. Every day. Things will happen in our lives which will turn us into different people. We're not going to be the same. So you need to stop expecting to predict your every move and then getting upset when you can't do it. You need to just…relax and go with it. Just learn to deal with every change that happens to you when it happens.

In all my years of existence—and I've existed for a preposterously long amount of time, enough years to make me enemy number one of middle-aged women who salivate over youth creams and anti-wrinkle potions—I've never thought about life this way. Just…go with it.

Wait, isn't that the logo of some sort of sneaker company or something?

Anyway. My life has been spent trying to figure myself out, figure out my next move, figure out where I'm going and moodily pondering my past.

Maybe I need to let go. Maybe I just need to be.

Easier said than done, honestly. I can feel all my old fears and insecurities gnawing at the edges of my mind. But I'm stronger than my own mind. I clench my fists and scowl up at the white ceiling. I'm Victoria Marsden. I'm stronger than even myself. I can do this. New outlook in life. Try to take things in stride. I will make mistakes. I will mess up. But I will…do good things too.

I will do great things. Especially now that I have my suit.

I snap up in bed, my heart beginning to race at the thought of my suit, my suit, my suit. My very own bonafide superhero suit. A suit specially designed for me, for my powers, to enhance me instead of repressing me or testing me or controlling me. A suit for a hurricane.

I leap out of bed, trip, pretend I didn't trip while rubbing my rug-burned and stinging knees and elbows, race through washing up and throwing on new clothes, and practically fly out my door and down to Stark's lab. I whizz past Steve as I go. He throws out an arm to grab me but I dodge it neatly (told ya I'm almost as fast as him). "Where are you going?" he shouts.

"To my destiny!" I sing. Which might be literally the lamest thing I've ever said.

Stark's security system wisely slides the doors to his lab open long before I reach them so I don't lose any momentum skidding into the lab and breathlessly saying, "So can I try on my suit now?"

Stark looks up from a table, where he's been holding a handful of yellowed papers. "What?" he asks, sounding a bit hazy and dazed.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask suspiciously.

"Nothing," he says briskly, stuffing the papers into a drawer set into the table. "You want to wear the suit, huh?"

"What do you think?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Please," I plead.

He grins, suddenly looking like a little boy. "Well, if you insist… JARVIS."

"Yes, sir," comes JARVIS's cool voice.

A circular panel opens up in the table in front of Stark, the hole in the middle dilating and growing in circumference the same way pupils do, but it's made out of diagonal metal pieces that rotate and twist into each other. The circle gets bigger and bigger and bigger until it's big enough that I could jump into it if I wanted to. A circular glass case begins to slowly rise from the table until it's standing about six feet tall above the table. And inside the clear glass…is my suit. Gleaming softly. It's even more beautiful in the daylight, a soft stormy gray color with notes of pale blue, navy blue, hints of teal, and the palest, smallest flecks of shell-thin pearly white imbedded in it. The sky and sea after a hurricane. Silver, leather-looking bands cinch the cuffs of the wrist, the ankles, and encircle the neck and the hip. The material also panels down the sides of the calves of the suit and is added to the elbows of the suit. Silver fingerless gloves made of the same material as the bands are attached to the wrist cuffs, with tough-looking black material on the palms and insides of the fingers, almost as if they're outlining the bones of the hand.

I'm going to date and marry this suit. That's really the only way to properly show my love for it. It deserves that much, at least.

I hear a slow whistle from behind me and then a drawn out, "Daaaamn." The voice belongs to Steve. I turn to see Steve, Bucky, and Sam all standing there, staring at the suit. They look almost comical. Bucky is wearing black sweatpants and a black sweatshirt, his hair pulled back into a sloppy pony, face impassive—but I see a gleam of admiration in his eyes. Steve is looking like the crisp Boy Scout to Bucky's sloppy college kid, wearing awful khakis and a weird light blue gingham-print button down neatly tucked into his pants. I hastily avert my eyes to keep them from bleeding and focus on Sam, who at least looks normal in dark jeans and a maroon button down opened at the front to reveal a dark brown t-shirt.

"Did you just say 'daaaamn'?" I ask Steve, astonished.

"I swear, Victoria," he reminds me. "I'm not an angel."

"You could have fooled me," I say. "I don't remember you swearing."

"That's because they were never aimed at you and I—I didn't swear in front of ladies." His ears turn a little red.

"It's good to know I'm not a lady anymore," I say politely. "To you."

Steve groans. "That's not what I meant. Just that…times have changed."

"I'm just teasing," I say. "I know what you meant. And you're damn right times have changed."

Steve looks relieved and also a little sweaty, like I tire him out.

I pause. Unless he's sweaty because he's in love with me… I look closely at him for any sign of lovesickness but he's back to focusing on the suit, so I raise my eyebrows at Steve and Bucky and say, "Well?"

"What the hell is it?" Bucky asks.

"I know HYDRA wiped your memories but I didn't think they addled your brain as well, Barnes," Stark says with a touch of malice. "Don't be stupid. It's a suit for a hero. I guess that's something you wouldn't know about—"

"Stark!" Steve snarls, taking a step forward. Bucky's face has whitened a shade and his eyes have hardened but impressively, he's keeping his cool and not hurling Stark through his pretty glass walls.

Wish he'd had that kind of self control back at Steve's apartment, when he was tossing me about left and right. My back aches at the injustice of it all.

"Sorry, sorry," Stark mutters. "Over the line, yadda yadda, I know."

With what looks like great control, Bucky takes a deep breath through his nose and then asks, "So you're going to fight in this suit? Do you know how to fight, Victoria?" His voice is a tad cutting.

"I fought you, didn't I?" I ask.

"I recall you tripping over your feet," he says waspishly. "Not fighting."

He just had to bring that back up, didn't he? Just…why? Why, Bucky? Why mention that now, in front of Sam and Stark? I shoot daggers at him with my eyes. "Don't patronize me. I survived on the streets for four years for a reason. I made a name for myself for a reason. Don't assume I'm some weakling just because I'm a girl—"

"This has nothing to do with you being a girl," Bucky snaps. "and everything to do with you being undisciplined and unprincipled in your fighting."

"This is like the most I've ever heard Barnes speak," Sam casually points out.

"Well, instead of standing here and arguing about Dizzy's fighting style," says Stark, clapping his hands together, "let's actually watch it. Suit up. I'm going to test your abilities again to see how the suit helps—or doesn't help," he mutters.

"More testing?" I complain.

Stark sighs and passes a hand over his eyes. "Oh my god. Does anyone science around here?"

We all blink at him.

"Apparently not," he says. "Enough wasting time. Suit up and meet me in the filming garage." He presses a flat glowing button on the table and one curved section of the glass case slowly slides back down into the table, leaving me free to slowly reach out and pull the suit off of its stand. I hold it in my arms and look at it in amazement. The material feels cool and soft and sort of slithery, like very thin pieces of interlocking metal with a suede undertone… It's light but feels oddly solid in my arms.

"I'll leave you to it," he says. "JARVIS, show her where the bathroom is."

"The bathroom is in the far left corner, Ms. Marsden," JARVIS tells me. "I have illuminated a sign above it to show you." A small golden light lights up over a door at the far end of the lab.

I thank JARVIS and hurry into the bathroom. I strip my clothes off and then look at myself for a moment, noting all the yellow bruises and dull red scratches and slashes that are slowly healing on my body. I can't see the scars on my back—flat and shining white—but I know they're there. A constant reminder of my time with HYDRA. My fists clench. I'm not going to let anyone make me a victim anymore. A tiny crack appears in the bathroom mirror in front of me and I immediately release my hands, taking a deep breath to control myself. Oops. Well…new mentality, right? No harm done. Except to poor Stark's furniture, who I have apparently made my sworn enemy.

I pull the suit on, zipping it up and then looking at myself in the mirror. I was afraid that I might look like a stupid toddler—a child wearing footie pajamas—but the suit conforms to my shape and instead of me looking skinny and stupid, it makes me look slender. It's flattering. I look sharp. The color and gleam of the suit brings out a shine in my gray eyes and flatters my golden-auburn hair to the point where my straight, limp, chopped locks even look a little nicer. If a suit has the power to make you look like you have a fresh haircut, you know it's something special.

I bounce in it and then spin around, flexing my hands in the fingerless gloves. The suit feels light and airy and I feel strangely more…flexible in it. Like I'm not bound by normal cotton clothing anymore but can move and stretch to my full extent. I turn and throw my leg out in a high kick and without my pants getting in the way, it feels so much more natural. I could have used something like this on the streets.

And the gloves… I look down at my hands. They feel pleasantly warm, warmer than the rest of my body, actually, as if more heat is flowing to them.

I clap a hand to my mouth as tears of happiness sting my eyes and blur my vision. No one is watching me so I let myself have this moment. I've never really known what to do with my powers since the day they appeared. I've used them, sure, but I never really understood what my…if you'll excuse me for being cheesy…destiny with them was. And now I know. I have a chance at saving people and doing good things with my powers. I can turn over a new leaf. I may always be ruthless—someone needs to be the dark counterpart to angels like Steve—but I can use my ruthlessness on people who actually deserve it. Not just street thugs who have probably had the world do them wrong as well.

I lean into the sink and look at my face. It hasn't even been that long since SHIELD captured me but I look so different. Despite my bruises and cuts, the hollows under my eyes and cutting into my cheeks are gone. My lips look fuller. The purple shadows under my eyes have faded. My hair looks shinier. My collarbones don't look like coat hangers anymore. Amazing what a few weeks of sleep and proper access to food will do to you. I feel a pang when I think about all the kids I've left behind on the streets. Kids who I once knew. Maybe I didn't love any of them but I knew them. We were all in the same, hideous boat. And now I'm here and they're there. They're still sleeping in alleys and eating out of dumpsters.

I'll do this for them.

Someone hammers on the bathroom door, making me nearly jump out of my suit, and Stark shouts, "For god's sake, are you done in there? What are you doing, applying makeup or something?! We've been waiting for twenty minutes!"

"I—I'm coming!" I yell.

"Women! Seriously, even when it's not a party, it takes you hours to get ready! Why? Just put the clothes on and get out!" His voice fades away, still muttering as it goes.

I hurry out of the bathroom and then down to his filming garage. I'm a little alarmed to see a whole crowd waiting for me: Bucky, Sam, Steve, Stark, and Dr. Banner. Dr. Banner and Steve are sitting on chairs, Steve propping his chin up in his hands, and Bucky is leaning against a wall, arms folded. Silent, as always. Makes me miss the old Bucky Barnes, the charmer that he was.

Their reactions are pretty satisfying. "That looks amazing," Dr. Banner says in a congratulatory tone. "Tony, what did you implement in it?" He and Stark turn away, privately discussing whatever nerdy tech stuff Stark did to it. Steve whistles and then grins. "Look at you."

"Stop," I say. "Actually, just kidding. Keep going."

"This suit is incredible," Steve says, looking it over. "Better than a lot of suits I've worn." He laughs ruefully.

"Yeah, but all of your suits have stood for something," I remind him. "So it's not a bad thing."

"True," he agrees.

Bucky's been silent this whole time so I look up at him. "Bucky, what do you th…" My voice trails off as I pause under the intensity of his gaze. He isn't saying a word but his expression—why do I feel like blushing to the roots of my hair? It's like he's saying a hundred things at once, some of them shouted and some of them whispered. And all of them make me feel…incredible.

Powerful.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," Stark says. "Someone is going to have to fight with her. Who'll it be? Rogers or Barnes?"

"I'll go first," Steve says, standing up. "Victoria and I still haven't fought yet."

"Don't go easy on me," I warn, backing up into the middle of the cavernous room.

"Trust me, I won't," he promises. "Just hand to hand?"

"No, use your shield," Stark interjects. "I want to see if she's fast enough to stop it."

Steve retrieves his shield, which has been leaning against a wall in the back, and clasps it onto his back using the inconspicuous magnetic band he always wears under his clothes (I saw him put it on once; I swear I wasn't creeping on him).

"Let's go," he says, bending his knees ever so slightly and raising his hands in a fighting stance.

This throws me for a loop temporarily. I've never actually been in a planned fight. Every fight I've been in has been me jumping someone—or someone jumping me. Instantaneous. No time to think about or plan any movies—just punch and kick as fast and hard as you can. Wild. What am I supposed to do here? Am I supposed to take a step? Who's supposed to go first? Are there rules? Am I supposed to just launch myself at him?

"Sometime before we all die, please," Stark calls.

Steve suddenly flips out his shield and sends it spinning at me. Now this is what I'm talking about. My blood sings with the sudden adrenaline and I throw myself to the side while throwing my hands out at the shield. I hit the ground hard and roll, leaping back to my feet and am pleased to see that I managed to blast the shield away from me. It clatters to the ground and Steve lunges at me, scooping it up on the way—

And then we're fighting furiously.

He's definitely the better, more trained fighter and he has agility and coordination and strength on his side. His punches graze me. But I have speed and my powers on my side. I manage to blast him away from me almost every time he tries to land a hit. He manages to hit me once and I fly backward and hit the ground hard. He freezes and calls, "Victoria?" but I roll over onto my belly and throw my hands out, close them as if I'm grabbing his ankles, and yank them towards me. He slams backwards, hitting the floor hard and I drag him towards me. He lets out a curse as I climb on top of him and pull my fist back—

And it hits the shield as he pulls it in front of his face. I hit the shield with both my fist and my powers, which I was coiling in my arm, and the shock vibrates through me, almost knocking my teeth out. He throws me off and yanks me to my feet, shoving me away from him. He's not going easy on me but I can see from his expression that he's worried about hurting me. The thought fuels me to assault him even harder. I'm going to force him to hurt me. I'm going to force him to use his full strength so we can actually test the suit.

And the suit works. Normally, when I fight, I get so overheated with emotion and magic (or whatever it is) that my powers burst out of me in random siphons of rage, you could call them. But now, I feel pleasantly warm, despite being sweaty and breathing heavily from fighting, and I can feel my powers swirling inside of me, neatly contained. The suit is letting me stretch further than ever (and further than is normal, I'm suspecting) and is protecting my arms and legs from scrapes and burns and cuts when I hit the ground hard. It's also giving me solid footing so I'm not sliding around or tripping. It's amazing.

I walk towards him, screwing up my face, and summoning every bit of power I have. I keep blasting him backwards. He's trying to regain his footing and he sends the shield slamming at me but I dodge it. I feel smug momentarily—until the shield ricochets off of the wall behind me and slams into my back. I fly forward and hit the ground. He grabs me and flips me over, slamming me down on the ground—but I make as if to grab his neck and flip him over me. So we both go down, head over heels, both of us hitting the thin mats on the ground one second after each other. We both roll over, and our eyes meet—his eyes are narrowed with the challenge now—and he throws a punch at me that hits the mark. I roll over onto my back, my hands flying to my bloody nose.

"Shit—Victoria!" He scrambles over to me and I twist over, throwing my leg towards him, and his head slams down onto the ground next to me, as if he's bowing down to a king.

"TIME!" Stark yells. "Stop!"

I lay there, trying to staunch the blood flow, staring up at the ceiling. Steve rolls over onto his back next to me and we both lay there for a moment, breathing heavily and sweating. Then Steve gets to his feet, regaining his strength much more quickly than me, and holds his hand out to me. I grab it and he pulls me to my feet. Then he fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket and silently hands it to me.

I laugh and press it to my mouth. "You still carry these things? You don't even have allergies anymore."

He smiles. "Old habits die hard."

"I could tell," I say wryly. "You held yourself back from really fighting me for a while."

"Never thought I'd be attacking my best friend," he says.

"Not attacking. Fighting. And it was a good fight."

"That was good," Stark says as we walk over to him. "Give me a little while to analyze the footage—I want to see how she moved in comparison to the first time. Take a breath. But then get your butts back here. I want to see her go against Barnes—and then me."

"You're going to fight her in your Iron Man suit?" Steve asks sharply. "That's not happening. Even she couldn't fight against the suit."

"I think you're underestimating Dizzy," Stark says mildly. "But don't worry. I won't blast her on full force."

"I'm going to do it," I say immediately.

"Of course you are," Steve groans. "Of course you're going to do it."

I see Bucky look down and shake his head but he's biting back a small smile.

We take a break while Stark disappears, Dr. Banner following him. No one really talks. I'm trying to shake off the light pain in my body, drinking from a water bottle and eating a banana Steve forces me to eat. It's just cruel. They're so different from the bananas we had in the 30s.

We spend the rest of the afternoon pitting me against Bucky and then Stark. My fight with Bucky is absolutely brutal. He doesn't hold back at all and I hit the wall and the ground more times than I can count. My head is spinning by the time we finish out fight and I'm bruised, limping, and have a bloody lip now. But I do manage to blast him several times. He clearly wins the fight but I hold my own very well. It's very different from the wild fights we had on the streets of Washington D.C., which him attacking me full-force and me not knowing how to respond. I've only ever fought street kids before, who fight wildly like me, but after fighting Steve and Bucky, I'm starting to get a handle for disciplined fighting. Just by watching them and sparring with them, I'm quickly catching onto how to move my feet and dance out of their reach and get them from behind, from the side, without launching myself at them like a total banshee.

I even manage to punch Bucky in the face once. I'm pretty proud, if you ask me.

I need to take an hour-long break after fighting Bucky and he cuffs me on the shoulder and squeezes my aching arm (which he wrenched behind my back so hard he almost ripped it off, I think). I groan and he grins. The sight makes me take a sharp intake of breath; it's so rare when he smiles that when he does, it's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "Nice fight," he says. "You're getting stronger. The suit works."

"Thanks for not holding back," I say.

"I'd never hold back with you." And then he walks away, hands in his pockets, to the table where the water bottles are sitting. I stare after him and knit my eyebrows. What did that mean? Was that supposed to mean something?

After an hour, I fight Stark. This one goes pretty badly. I'm not sure if it's because I'm exhausted after fighting Steve and Bucky or if it's because fighting a man in an iron suit is actually harder than fighting a super soldier—but I only manage to hit Stark twice before he's knocking me around. It doesn't help that he can fly. I manage to yank him down to the ground once, smashing him facedown, but that's about it. This goes on for only ten minutes or less when he lowers his hands and says in a mechanical voice, "Alright, that's enough. We'll save this fight for another day." He turns to Steve and Bucky and says, "Thank you boys for your cooperation. And for not interfering. I could almost feel you dying to stop me."

Both Bucky and Steve studiously look away in different directions, too-innocent expressions on their faces, very Whaaat? Who me?

Stark holds his arms out and the suit begins to disassemble around him. "Good job, team," he says. "This calls for a congratulatory dr—" He pauses and his eyes go slightly unfocused. Then he shakes his head. "Congratulatory ice cream sundaes."

"Ice cream sundaes," I say skeptically.

"Don't be rude," he says. "I make a great sundae. I have world-class Maraschino cherries."

We all walk upstairs and we're joined by Sam, Dr. Banner, and Pepper. It's late afternoon and Stark kisses Pepper on the cheek and says, "Darling. I'm going to make sundaes."

"What for?" she asks.

"Do we really need a reason?"

"Not really," she concedes.

"I haven't had a sundae since the 30s," I admit.

Sam shakes his head. "I keep forgetting how much you guys have missed…it blows my mind. You haven't even see the Pirates of the Caribbean movies! Or—or gone to Six Flags or Busch Gardens!"

"What's Six Flags?" I ask.

"An amusement park. With like roller coasters and stuff."

"I've been on a roller coaster," I say dubiously. "At Coney Island. It was alright." I'm suddenly transported back to that night: it was hot and sweaty, a typical summer night in Brooklyn. I was twelve, I think, and Steve and Bucky were fifteen or sixteen (depending on whether they'd had their birthdays yet—we all had summer birthdays but theirs came after mine and they were only three years older than me for a few months before they turned four years older than me). This was years before my confusing feelings for Bucky emerged but two years after my mother had died. After spending two years bottling in my powers, things had just been starting to look up. Bucky and Steve decided that I needed a dose of real life after hiding out in my room for two years and dragged me to Coney Island. The last time I'd been had been when I was eight, back when my mother was alive, and I'd been too scared to go on any big rides. And God knew my father wasn't hankering to take me out anywhere. I'd pretty much died to him by then.

So that summer, they decided enough was enough and firmly told me they were taking me. I still looked up to them so much then—we were all friends but we weren't on an equal level yet. It was still more of a big brother-little sister relationship with both of them. But I had just turned twelve and I was on the brink of becoming what I considered an actual, real girl in my mind, so I put on a proper dress and even experimentally put on some of my mother's old lipstick. Looking in the mirror, I realized I looked like a fright and rubbed it off. Then I went off to meet Steve and Bucky, feeling like a unwanted stuffed toy or something.

Neither Bucky nor Steve noticed my dress—why would they? They were sixteen, I was twelve—but they cheered me up. We went to Coney Island and wasted far too much money—nickels upon nickels, dime after dime—playing stupid games and buying ice creams and funnel cake and popcorn. I tried to throw popcorn into Steve's mouth, taking a large step back after each round but we stopped when he choked on a piece and had a five-minute coughing fit. That part wasn't so good.

And then I went on a roller coaster. I remember wondering why I'd been so scared of it. It was pretty tame and not that fast. It was pleasant, clacking along on the wooden track, making an awful racket. My hair was messed up when I got off and Bucky took one look at me before bending over and laughing so hard he almost died.

I snap out of memory land and bring myself back to reality, where Stark is looking in kitchen cabinets, a puzzled expression on his face, trying to find certain ingredients and Pepper is saying, "Tony, the ice cream is melting, at least put it back in the freezer while you look—" and Sam and Dr. Banner are seriously debating the merits of different vacation spots in the U.S. for Steve, Bucky, and I to visit one day. Steve is listening, his chin propped in his hands, smiling, and Bucky is trying to look like he's not listening—but he is. I can tell. His body movements are so familiar to me. Decades can't erase this. I've watched Bucky for too long not to know him.

In a, you know, totally not creepy way.

While I'm watching the funny scene, a smile slides across my face and the word home flashes in my mind, glowing softly against the backdrop. I don't know all of these people very well. I don't know some of them at all, really. Many of them have issues. A few of them could kill me at any given moment. But something about them feels so comforting and friendly. We're a dysfunctional, wacky bunch with strange talents, strange histories, and strange emotional baggage—but we're a group. It feels like a group.

The happy feeling is slowly dampened when I realize a stronger, uneasy feeling is tugging at me. What is it? I try to unravel all my thoughts over the past few days and then realize what it is: Beckerton. The mystery person who wanted me shipped in some crate to England to him or her. Something feels wrong now. Why hasn't Steve made plans to go get Beckerton yet? Why are we sitting here eating (or not eating, since it seems Stark will never find any of the ingredients he's looking for) ice cream instead of suiting up for a fight? We've wasted so many days, Beckerton will be long gone by now.

"Steve, are we ever going after Beckerton?" I ask loudly.

A silence falls over the group and Steve looks startled. Then he frowns and rubs the back of his head. "Victoria…"

"Is that a no?"

His mouth tightens but then he slowly, almost jerkily, shrugs as if to say And what if it is?

My chest feels tight. "I don't get it," I say slowly, feeling almost bewildered. "You…you're Captain America. Stark's Iron Man. Isn't hunting bad guys down your job? This Beckerton guy—or gal—wanted me dead. They had HYDRA guys jump me and almost kidnap me. Why don't you want to go get them? We've wasted so much time, they're probably already long gone. Normally you just throw yourself into the action—so why…"

"Victoria…I just don't think it's worth it," he sighs.

I blink at him. I don't know what to say. Not…worth it? What is he saying? Is he saying that I'm not worth going after someone who wanted me dead? I'm not arrogant enough to assume I'm the most important person in Steve's life—that could be Bucky or Peggy or anyone he chooses, honestly—but…I guess I did think he cared enough to go after someone who tried to have me violently kidnapped.

"Oh," I say, my voice sounding hollow to my own ears. "Okay."

"Not that way!" Steve suddenly says quickly, urgently, as if realizing my thought process. "This Beckerton wanted you and don't think for a second that I don't want them hurt, or dead, for trying to kidnap you! It's just—" He hesitates and looks at Bucky for help but Bucky looks at him with a Dude, you're on your own expression and Steve scowls at him for a second. "It's just…we've had enough fighting and destruction, don't you think? And there will always be someone who wants one of us—or all of us—dead or captured. It comes with the territory of being a hero."

It comes with the territory of being a hero. He thinks I'm a hero.

"I mean, we could go after them," he says. "But it just sounds like another HYDRA loser who wants revenge on one of us. We'll get them all eventually, I promise—but right now…I just got both you and Bucky back." He shrugs. "I don't want to risk it. I don't want to go get caught up in another battle and risk one of you dying. I'd rather let Beckerton slip away—for now—than have that happen."

"He's right, you know," Dr. Banner adds quietly. "There's always going to be a bad guy trying to get you. We can fight most of them—but we can't fight the whole world. Sometimes you need to know when to take a step back and prioritize yourself over the fighting."

It feels wrong, not going after Beckerton. It feels so, so wrong just letting them get away with what they tried to do with me. The part of me that likes revenge and bloodlust and getting my own—that part of me is uncomfortable and angry right now. But…a part of me can also admit that Steve is right. I guess I can't fight everyone who wants me (or wants me dead) and the more I go out and fight in my suit, the more enemies I'll make. I'll never be able to get them all. I guess…I could back away from this fight. Provided I never hear from, or see, Beckerton ever in my life again.

I almost want to let them know how lucky they are that we're not coming after them.

I nod grudgingly and Steve exhales in relief. The silence lasts a few more seconds and then Stark crows, "The nuts! I found the nuts!"

"Didn't know you had any," Steve says innocently.

"I did, they were in the—" Stark stops and stares at Steve suspiciously while Bucky snorts and Sam snickers. Dr. Banner shakes his head, grinning at his feet. After that, the good atmosphere resumes. Now Steve and Sam are talking about the sports victories Steve's missed in the past few decades and Pepper is slicing up some bananas. Dr. Banner is quietly asking questions to Bucky and amazingly, Bucky is responding (albeit in short, clipped sentences). I sit and watch it all, drawing up my legs criss-cross and feeling happy.

Stark's phone rings and he slides his thumb across it and holds it to his ear. "Yello, JARVIS." He listens for a minute and then his face scrunches up. "Really? Really. Huh. Well, that's interesting…did you ask how they got this number…no, I didn't think you would… No, it's fine, I'll give it to her." He pulls the phone away from his ear and says, "Dizzy—someone's calling for you. They say they're a 'friend from the streets'." He does air quotes around the words. "JARVIS will patch you through."

He carelessly tosses his phone at me from way too far away but I hold my hand up and pull and it soars toward me. I look up at him and realize he did it on purpose, his eyes carefully analyzing my wrist movements. Ever the tech genius he is.

"Hello?" I say into the phone, wondering who it is. A street friend? I didn't have any street friends. I had street allies. The few friends I had…I betrayed. And why would any of them even call me now? How would they even know I'm here?

"Keep smiling and acting normal."

I don't even understand the words at first and I knit my brows in confusion. "What?" I ask, puzzled.

"Say 'Oh my god! I can't believe it's been so long!' If you don't, every single person in that room is dead."

My mouth gets slightly dry as I realize what's going on. I've watched enough action movies over the past few weeks to understand what this is. I notice Steve and Bucky are watching me so I put on a relaxed smile—I didn't act out Shakespeare on rooftops for years for nothing, you know—and say, "Whoa, it's been a while. I haven't heard from you in ages."

"You didn't follow my instructions."

"I would never say that!" I chuckle.

"Well done." The voice is male, smooth, with an English accent. "Can you guess who this is? Don't say the name."

"I think I know," I say, grinning.

"Good. I knew you would. You're a smart girl. Believe it or not but I was impressed that you managed to get away from my men at the docks. I don't need a fool and you're no fool, it seems."

"You're right," I say lightly. "Nobody's messing with Fizzy anytime soon. Don't worry, I can hold my own."

"Is that a threat, Victoria? Please. Let's not do that. Let me get to the point. I want you to come to England and meet me."

"That doesn't sound possible right now," I say, putting on a sorry voice. "I'm really busy."

"This is non-negotiable. If you don't come, I will personally make sure every single person you love or have ever loved dies. This includes Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes—and yes, that's right, I know he's with you. Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and even the children you led on the streets. All dead. Do you want that?"

"That sounds bad," I say in a sympathetic tone, my heart hammering furiously. I hope no one can see the sweat starting to form on my forehead. My entire body feels hot and prickly. I want to spit, curse, threaten Beckerton. But I don't know how powerful he is. If he's capable of what he says he is. For once, I have to be smart and not do something stupid and impulsive.

"I didn't think so," he says, sounding pleased. "I'm going to recite a phone number for you right now. When you get to England—"

"How would I ever do that?" I ask skeptically, keeping my tone light. "I'm not some sort of wizard, you know."

"Please, let's not insult both of our intelligence right now. You're a smart girl, you'll figure it out. That's what I like best about you."

"Is that so."

"Oh, yes. I've been watching you for a long time now. Longer than you might realize."

"How horrifying," I say dryly. My stomach is hurting now but I can feel the power heating up, swirling, rising up in me. My mouth tastes salty and I can feel the metallic edge of cold fury sweeping slowly through me. My entire being is preparing itself for a fight and I take a deep breath to calm myself down. Not now, Fizzy. Not now.

"Perhaps." Beckerton sounds unconcerned. "Anyway. Once you get to England, call this phone number and then you'll receive the next instructions to get to your location. Can you manage that?"

"Who do you think I am?" I ask, grinning.

"I thought so." He recites a phone number and I know it'll remain burned into my memory. The lives of my friends might possibly depend on it. "Do you remember that?"

"Yep."

"Good. Now, remember, Victoria: if you tip any of your friends off…any Avenger friends, normal friends, or even any law enforcement…absolutely anyone…if I get wind that anyone is coming with you to England…then I will begin hunting down everyone you know and love. And I won't stop there. I'll begin killing innocents, too, in your name. Children. Elderly. I have no qualms about who I kill but I'm sure you wouldn't want them to die on your behalf, right?"

"Right." My words come out as a strange whisper and I clear my throat as I notice that Steve and Bucky are still paying semi-attention to my conversation. "Right. But…what's going on, anyway? Why are you doing this stupid stuff? Come on. Get with it."

"All will be told in good time," he says simply. "Remember, Victoria: no telling or else…" He ends on a slight sing-song-y which makes me wonder just how insane he is. Then the line goes dead.

I sit there for a moment with the phone held to my ear and then I slowly lower it, staring blindly in front of me. Just when I decided to make peace with it and let it go—he calls and ruins it. Just when I decided to put my friends and family before the fight…he brings the fight to my doorstep. He waves the fight in my face. He challenges me to the fight.

And when I'm challenged to a fight, there's no backing down. I don't care if that makes me weak or predictable or arrogant—I never back down from a fight.

"Who was it, Victoria?" Steve asks, looking a little puzzled. "A street friend called you?"

I can't tell them otherwise they'll all be hunted down by Beckerton. His threat spins around and around in my head as I stare around at the faces looking at me, eyebrows raised and confused, somewhat concerned expressions on their faces as the silence draws out longer and longer. People that I love. People that I like. People that I care for. People I don't want get hurt.

But I told myself I was done lying to myself. I told myself I was done with lies. I'm not going to make the same mistakes over and over again: not trusting anyone, keeping things held close to my icy heart, making my way alone in this world. I'm not alone in this world anymore. I've got people by my side, at my back.

And if Beckerton tries to hunt them down…we'll hunt him back. If he tries to hurt them, I'll hurt him so badly he'll wish he'd never been born before. Everyone in this room is unbelievably strong and has been through battles—both physical and emotional—before. They can hold their own.

I'm going to do things right this time.

"Guess who just called me?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"Who?" Bucky asks, his face tight, noticing the tension in my pose. He can sense the danger a fraction of a second before everyone else can. It's in his blood two. He and I, we're a pair now.

"Beckerton."


A/N: OKAY, I KNOW HOW IT LOOKS. It looks like I watched Age of Ultron, saw the running joke about Steve swearing (which we all know was funny because Steve does swear all the time), and decided to throw a little wink to it in my story… I SWEAR, THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED. I totally had the bit about the swearing written a week before the movie came out. My jaw dropped when I realized that was a joke in the movie because it fit so eerily well with what I'd written. But hey, at least my joke fits in with canon!

But aside from that…Age of Ultron! What'd you think, guys? I know people are having problems with characterizations of Natasha and Bruce, mostly. I myself have some issues with that. And there were definite flaws in the movie. But I still loved it! It was fun, it was daring, Ultron was so cool, and it made the Avengers seem like a real family! Plus, the one-liners were hilarious (typical Joss Whedon). And now we move into the wait for Cap 3…which let's hope the Russos do justice to!

Also, I don't know why it apparently took me three months to realize this…but Skye's powers are pretty similar to Victoria's! I'd say Victoria is a little more powerful in the sense that she can easily lift, pull, crush, and just generally move things with less effort…but then again, Victoria's had her powers for much longer so she's had more practice. Is Victoria an Inhuman? Who knows! But at least we can agree that I definitely didn't copy Marvel on this, because Victoria had her powers a year before we saw Skye get hers, haha. Her powers also resemble Wanda's but to a lesser extent because Victoria definitely does not have the mind voodoo.

Also, in response to Dark: no, Bucky did not like Victoria in the past. He didn't like any girl much, really. He liked flirting and dating around but he wasn't specifically into anyone. He's begun seeing Victoria in a much different light in modern times.

Last of all (wow, this has been long)… Westoftheglass has made ANOTHER awesome gifset for my story! Throw confetti, make it rain! Just go to westoftheglass's tumblr blog and search "the-original-three" in their tagged works!