The Avengers compound looms over me, intense and intimidating walls of stone and glass. It demands a moment to pause, a moment to take it all in. The last rays of sunshine barely peek out from behind the building, and then the golden air dissipates and all that's left is a cool, dusky light. My fingers crave to be stuffed into my pockets, in a nervous clasp, to be brought to my chest. I used to be better at hiding my nerves.
"Let's go, fireball." Stark rolls his eyes. "We haven't got all day."
I fight to keep pace as he swipes us into the main building, only the fluttering hem of his blazer to guide me through this maze of walls and windows. I changed, imperceptibly, the moment we crossed the threshold, as though we'd entered another world entirely. Could it really have been only hours ago that I'd returned home to my apartment, hanging my coat with a sigh, to turn and find Iron Man waiting on the leather couch?
"Great to finally meet you, Apolla," he'd said, standing and extending a hand.
A nervous laugh escaped my lips, my wide eyes flitting from his hand back to the front door. I considered running, weighing up how long I'd have before he caught me. But he knew where I lived. And, knowing him, where every member of my family and friends lived, too. And if he knew who I was, the monster they called 'Apolla', surely he wouldn't stop until he found me. I needed to bluff.
"Apolla?" I answered back, trying to arrange my features into an expression of innocence. "Like, the fire-bender? I think you've got the wrong address, sir."
Tony had only smirked. "I don't think I do."
I gulped, the pretence dropping under his intelligent stare. My voice turned husky and grave. "How did you find me?"
He only fixed me with a look. A look that said: Really? I'm Tony freaking Stark.
I suspect that Tony is moving so quickly through the compound so that we can get this over with, before I have a chance to overthink or attempt to escape. But how am I supposed to go through with this? I've spent my whole life keeping my fire-wielding a secret. After the accident…
No. We're not going there. And besides, I'd only become Apolla, as the media had dubbed me after the Greek God Apollo, to save that orphanage from the Hydra agents. I lit their base camp in flame, allowing it to grow and roar until even the ground beneath the foundations had been reduced to ash and embers, thwarting their plans to launch an attack and take all of the children hostage. The media have called Apolla a mystery figure, a callback to the era of secret identities. But a hero, an Avenger? No. My only power is destruction. And the government only want my arrest.
Stark doesn't see it that way, though. And now he's insisted I need to help the Avengers take down a titan called Thanos, or half of everyone in the universe will die. 'No pressure,' he'd said. His words echo in my ears once more as I catch the sight of them through the glass, then follow him into a large boardroom. Full of the Avengers themselves.
Every head snaps up to assess me as I enter. Narrowed eyes, distrusting glances. The sight of them all gathered in one room leaves me feeling so human, so insignificant, stood beside gods and other-worldly beings. Natasha's eyes scan me quickly, her lips pressing together in a frown. Banner shifts awkwardly, and even Wanda and Vision keep their distance. Thor and Loki barely glance my way. Sam and Rhodes mutter darkly to each other. In the back of my mind, I'd hoped that at least Peter Parker would be welcoming — he's the only one younger than I am — but even he avoids eye contact.
They must think I'm a monster.
Only one of them is not hostile, and he still manages to be every bit as intimidating as he is comforting. Steve Rogers. I can't help a small gasp of breath as I take him in for the first time. Television and news reports don't do him justice. He's the only one in full uniform, every inch clinging to his incredibly sculpted form, standing a head taller than I am. He has his arms crossed at his chest, his hair flopped to one side. His lips part just a fraction, before forming a small smile. Those sky-crystal eyes hold me captive, completely mesmerised. Damn. I had not been expecting this.
"Come on, guys, that's no way to welcome new blood," Stark says.
He leaves me waiting on the perimeter, and heads to the other end of the room by the debriefing screens. Nobody sits at the large, oval table in the centre of the room, but all stand around it. The silence becomes deafening until Banner talks first.
"You're, uh… You're Apolla?" he asks.
I reluctantly tear my eyes away from Steve and nod. My voice seems to have disappeared.
"Yeah, I'll bring you up to speed real quick," Tony says. He runs his hand across some tech, and pulls up a familiar video. My mouth turns dry as the first frame comes into view. I've seen this video countless times on the news, on social media.
A silhouette moves through a camp completely encased in fire, shooting her palms out and adding to the calamity in all directions. She kicks down doors, grasps men by the throat, melts their flesh. No hint of remorse. She's like a demon summoned from the underworld, or a serial-killing psychopath with a taste for blood boiled by flame.
She's me.
It wasn't like that, I want to scream. The urge to confess has been rampant in my chest for weeks. As though any combination of words could excuse it, justify it. I'd saved countless children. But I'd taken countless lives. Did that break even?
And this video, it paints me as a monstrous figure. It's unedited, unaltered, so it must be the truth. But it doesn't show the way I pulled my sweater up to my nose afterwards, before leaning down to vomit, my body protesting against the smell of burning flesh. It doesn't show the tears I cried that night. The nightmares, the PTSD, the vow that I will never use my power again.
One small moment of repentance, and now it's been made redundant by Tony Stark and his pack of heroes.
Loki lets out a low whistle. "Impressive."
I grimace. If Loki of all people appreciates the carnage, that makes it even worse. I can't bear to look around for anybody else's reaction, least of all Steve's. Steve Rogers is like the gold standard for morality, for doing the right thing. There's no way he could ever make peace with the scene on the screen before him.
"This really changes things for our side," Stark says. "Guys, I think we have a really good chance."
Vision turns to face me, pondering. "How does it work?" he asks. "What's the source for your power?"
"I draw my power from the sun." They don't need to know any more than that. Not yet.
"So, what happens at nighttime?" Thor asks. A hint of a grin on his face.
"So, what happens at nighttime?" Thor asks. His voice almost cocky.
I clench my jaw. All former feelings of inferiority, of insecurity, have vanished, like a broken spell or shattered shard of glass. These beings are not superior. Not when they partake in hazing out newcomers, the same old pattern spanning centuries of human existence. Where do you fit into our group? What are you worth to us? What are you made of?
I shake off the memory of my mother warning me not to show off, and storm from the room, ignoring the bemused exchange of glances in my wake. I head for the weapons room I remember passing further down the corridor. There isn't time to appreciate the vast supply on the wall before me, to run my fingers carefully across the steel and metal as I long to. I grab three paring knives and sprint back to the boardroom, anger fuelling my movements, expanding the muscles in my legs. I don't recall my prior training — that would be too painful. I act on instinct, and send the knifes cartwheeling through the air, shooting down before Thor, Vision and Banner respectively, each wedged deep into the table. They look stunned. It's something, at least.
"Hey," Banner says, "what did I do?"
After a tense moment, Thor lets out a loud, booming laugh. The atmosphere seems to relax, just a little. My eyes flicker to Steve, but his mouth twitches into a grin, and he chuckles as he looks down at the floor. Even Natasha raises her eyebrows appreciatively.
"So, clearly she has other skills, should the sun be absent," Tony sighs. He flicks up new footage. "We're expecting an attack at any moment. Now, Thanos himself isn't likely to come to us, at least not until he has all of the infinity stones. But he's going to send one hell of an infantry."
"So, are we finding the stones, or defending the base?" Wanda asks.
"Both," Tony answers. He glances to Steve. "Rogers?"
Steve shifts, then addresses the group as a whole. "We wait for the attack. We exhaust their numbers. Thanos will be busy re-grouping, and that's when we get the stones. He'll be too busy to notice until it's too late."
Tony nods. "What he said. Any questions?"
Everybody either mumbles a no, or shrugs, or in Thor's case, begins to leave the room.
"Well, great work today guys," Tony says sardonically as the others file out behind Thor. He holds up a finger, examining something on a screen. "Apolla. Can I have a minute?"
I linger behind as everybody else leaves, catching the end of conversations planning to train together or go get shawarma. I wonder if I'm imagining things, the way Steve hesitates, eyes flicking to meet mine. Is he waiting for me? But after a fixed glare from Tony, he leaves too. I shake the illusion from my mind, as the doors finally close.
Tony looks up. "I made you a suit," he says. "Well, actually, I had Friday make it. I didn't have the time today. But it should be up to scratch." He presses a button and a section of the wall separates and turns a one-eighty, revealing the suit attached to the other side. "What do you think? Flame resistant, of course."
I inhale sharply at the sight. It's… incredible. Form-fitting, with thigh-high boots. A high neckline, with a deep-V cut-out above the bust, extending into sleeves all the way to the fingerless gloves, with exposed palms. All black, with thick bands of red at focal points. A mask to accentuate my eyes, leaving my hair completely free.
"You made this?" I ask in disbelief.
My head spins, unable to process that this is really happening. I'm an Avenger. I have a suit. Tony releases the protective glass screen and hands it across. The material ripples through my fingers like silk, and somehow also leather and latex at once.
"Like I said, Friday made it, not me. But it's yours. Try it on, have fun. If you need any modifications, let me know."
I feel a sudden swell of gratitude. "Thank you."
Stark brushes me off a little, but this isn't a surprise. He's not one for emotions, or having his good deeds go mentioned.
"Fury will be in tomorrow. He'll have a whole lot of paperwork for you to sign. Until then, rest up. Get to know the compound."
The thought is petrifying, but that's not Tony's problem. I nod and turn to leave, but his voice stops me.
"Apolla," he says, brows furrowed in hesitation. He squirms uncomfortably. "Look, don't… Don't worry about the guys. We're kind of a tight-knit crew, it's been so long. Even Wanda and Vision are still struggling a bit to assimilate."
I flush a deep scarlet, mortified to discuss my less-than-warm welcome. "I'm not worried."
"Good," he sighs. "Now, get out of here. I've got a date with Pepper."