Hello, Lunchies, and welcome to my first attempt at writing horror! This will be... hopefully scary, and if not, pretty gruesome. I will urge you to take care of yourself, because after this first chapter, it's going to get very intense. If you think you can handle character death and the violence, by all means, be my guest, but there's no shame in calling it quits now.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt once said "We have nothing to fear, but Fear itself."
Truly, fear is a terrifying force of nature.
It twists the minds of even the most righteous of men, sows seeds of panic into the noblest of hearts, lurks in the corners of the happiest of souls, and once let out of the shadows, Fear, n all its horrific majesty, is truly an unstoppable sight to behold.
It can be used as a tool, at times, but allow its vice-like grip to close around your heart, its pitch-black tentacles to ooze into your mind, and the world will never be seen in the same way, again.
Even the closest of families can be ripped apart by the cackling, laughing demon of Fear.
Now, then.
Shall we set the scene?
The year is 2014, the Sacred Timeline thrown completely out the window, as everyone's favorite motely crew of misfits sat cheerfully around the fireplace in the Avengers' compound.
Outside, there is cold, bleak snow. Gloom settles on the white, crystal grounds like a thickening cloud, dense fog rolling in, and dark, armed, mysterious figures creeping in along with it.
Inside, there is laughter. Warmth. Home, or so they believe. Two Asgardian deities, two assassins, a currently passive rage monster, a supersoldier, and a billionaire with a gold-titanium-alloy exoskeleton.
Outside, there is a force to be reckoned with, a force that would make even the strongest of heroes think twice.
Hydra, they call themselves.
Underground secret operatives with no sense of morals and a nasty habit of having the technological advantage in every way.
They come creeping up the hills, up from the forest, making no noise on the frozen ground.
Soon.
Soon they will be close enough for the AI currently running the tower to detect them.
The Avengers are oblivious. Innocent. Completely in the dark.
Loki and Tony Stark are playing a game of cards which involves smacking each other's hands at odd intervals, their laughter livening up the whole room, as Thor, Captain America, and, Hawkeye are conversing casually on the couch. Natasha and Bruce are snuggled up in a cozy armchair, watching the fire, saying nothing, only enjoying each other's company.
Nothing has happened in a few weeks. The local villains haven't been acting up, recently, Hydra, as far as they're aware, hasn't even shown up on the radar in over a month. Their guards are let down.
Closer, the agents outside creep.
"Mr. Sark." Jarvis speaks up, cutting through the conversation with a note of urgency in his mechanical voice. "Security breach detected on the…"
The AI's voice cuts off abruptly, silence ringing through the room, louder than great tolling bells.
"Jarvis?" Tony questions.
There is no answer.
"Jarvis, talk to me, buddy." Tony demands, jumping immediately to his feet. His fingers tap at his watch, but the usual holographic images do not appear.
"He said there was a security breach." The captain speaks up. "He's probably been disabled."
"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock." Tony snaps back, already on edge. "He's completely offline. How did they even do that?"
"You have the backup connector?" Bruce offers. His face is deceptively calm.
Tony is quiet, for a moment as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. Fingers tap quickly on the screen, before his eyes go wide in horror. "The file's been completely deleted.'
"What does that mean?" Thor wants to know.
"It means we're under attack." Steve explains. "And completely flying by the seat of our pants. Loki, Natasha, can you two do a perimeter sweep?"
The both of them immediately get to their feet, but before they can leave the room, the lights suddenly shut off, the fire illuminating strange, eerie shapes on the wall as the only source of light left.
They are here.
All is pandemonium as the heroes scramble to get their weapons, but nothing came out to show its face. There is no noise, no movement, as the seven of them stand braced for anything.
Silence is the only thing to meet their ears.
This attack is not meant to be physical.
After a moment's terrified silence, the air conditioner kicks on, muffling any noise of machinery to be heard.
"Tony…" Clint speaks up. "Jarvis monitors the air conditioner, right?"
The billionaire turns in horror to his teammate, as the realization dawns on him that he's right, not only is he right, it's the middle of winter. The air conditioner shouldn't be turning on in the first place.
No one notices the thin green mist filtering out from the air vents, tinting the atmosphere by imperceptible increments, until the fire begins guttering, flickering, and then eventually, is smothered by whatever chemical is filling the room.
TheOnlyHuman.