Death surrounds

My heartbeat's slowing down

I won't take this world's abuse

I won't give up, I refuse

This is how it feels when you're bent and broken

This is how it feels when your dignity's stolen

When everything you love is leaving

You hold on to what you believe in

-Skillet, "Not Gonna Die"

All things change with time.

She knew this better than most. Even the wisest of mortals could only perceive a sliver of the change that resulted from time's inexorable march. Hers was the wisdom of eternity, eyes that had borne witness to eons of stellar drift. The eldest of the mortal races were still children in her eyes, struggling to make their mark despite their brief lifespans.

She regarded the world below her. Earth. The world that had birthed her and her siblings, that sustained them. But all her siblings were gone now, devoured by the only one left. She'd given so much of herself to imprison him, to prevent him from corrupting the children of her home. The humans had moved on, their civilization spreading across the planet absent the guidance of the Elder Gods.

And yet, she felt misgivings about their fate. For millennia, she had wandered among the cosmos, witnessing the birth of new stars and the rise of vast empires. Life and death, creation and destruction. She wanted to experience it all. Now, having returned to the world of her birth, she clutched a hand to her chest. Not since the primordial age had she felt fear like this. Her gaze piercing through Earth's crust into the molten core, she caught sight of a pulsing, black corruption. In the time since she left on her journey, it had somehow taken root. Tendrils extended from it to the planet's surface, spreading her brother's hateful influence.

She cast her gaze ahead, through the mists of the future. The proper flow of events had been altered. The history of humanity now at risk. Where before their fate was certain, now it became dark and in danger of ending before its time. That could not be allowed to happen. Young as they were, inexperienced and prone to indulging their baser nature, humans were a bright light among the black veil of the universe. They had a great part to play.

If she did not act, then all would fall to ruin. Touching her hands together, she pulled them apart. Between her fingers appeared a grand tapestry of glowing threads, interwoven in a pattern dictated since the birth of the universe.

"Is this really the answer?"

She turned to regard the figure that appeared beside her. His presence was expected. He wore a cloak fashioned from the oldest starlight, looking at her with eyes that saw infinitely more than she ever would. "There is no other way, Uatu. I must act, or else they will suffer an unimaginable end."

"Perhaps that is their fate," the being known as the Watcher suggested.

"It does not have to be. Not while I have power that can aid them."

"If you do this, there will be consequences," he warned. "You will split this reality, creating a new universe. Those who might have lived will die. Those who might have died will live. Some things even I cannot see."

She moved her gaze from him back to the Earth, her thoughts focused on the suffering her brother would inflict. "You have witnessed countless universes, Uatu. Seen their highest glories and their direst ends. Tell me, if you could violate your oath, use your power to interfere, would you? To save innocents who might yet be saved?"

His incorporeal brow furrowed. "You know I can never interfere."

"But if you had the choice, would you?"

He was silent for a time, the weight of her question hanging over him. "Of course I would."

"Then you know I have no choice in this."

"I do. And you know I will not stop you. I have never doubted your intentions before. You have only ever concerned yourself with order and peace. But remember what I said: this will have consequences." Uatu vanished, returning to his dominion beyond the fabric of this universe.

She turned back to the tapestry between her fingers. The lives and destinies of every mortal that ever existed or would exist. Their joy and despair and victories and defeats. She examined every single one, searching for the threads that would best foil her brother's malice and cruelty. In the end, she found four threads. In the current reality, they either ended before their time or otherwise left little influence in the grand plan.

Uatu was right. By changing the fates of these four, there would be consequences. To shape them into the forms she needed, she would be altering their lives forever. They would stumble. They would experience terrible loss. They would know suffering. But that suffering would forge them into the champions she needed. In the end, their sacrifices would ensure the salvation of Earth and the human race.

And so, she made alterations.

1987; The Bronx…

Tony Masters sat on his front step, staring out into the street.

Times were tough. His mother worked herself to the bone with three jobs just to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. They couldn't afford a tv, so Tony resorted to watching the people that passed his little paradise. He'd spend hours watching cars drive by, making up stories in his head about where the drivers were going. What they did for a living.

What their families looked like.

A portly man walked down the sidewalk, one hand on a leash connected to a Golden Lab, the other holding the hand of a little boy in a kid-sized hockey jersey. Tony snorted, hugging his skinny legs to his chest. What the hell were fathers good for, anyway? All they did was leave and never come back. He pitied the kid as they walked out of view, knowing he'd be in for nothing but disappointment.

His eyes drifted to a group of teenagers across the street, playing in an alley. One of them stood on a skateboard while the others watched. He tried to do a fancy flip with the board, but he fumbled and the board skidded into a fence. The other kids laughed, and the one that tried to do the trick reached into his pocket for some cash. He handed it over to another kid.

Tony watched them attentively. When the next kid stood on the board, he watched his stance. His footwork. The kid did the trick, and while he succeeded he did fumble a little. In that moment, Tony felt something. An idea, or some sort of memory. One that was brand new, yet felt like it had always been there. Whatever it was, it convinced him to stand up, cross the street, and walk right up to the group of teenagers all twice his size.

Their laughs and conversation died when they noticed him. One of the taller kids, wearing a black beanie and jeans that were falling down, scowled. "Beat it, kid."

"Can I try?" Tony asked.

Another kid, freckled and chubby, grabbed his shoulder and shoved him onto the ground. "He said beat it. Now get lost!"

Standing up, Tony didn't lose his nerve. "I want to try."

Freckles looked him up and down. "You serious?" Tony was scrawny, almost skin-and-bone, with a shaggy mop of dark brown hair and brown eyes. But he was quicker than he looked, and something told him he couldn't fail here.

Beanie's scowl grew. "Weren't you listening, dipshit! I said get–"

"Hey, hey, hold up," a kid wearing sunglasses and a fake gold chain around his neck said. "If he wants to wipe himself out, we should let him. Could be good for a laugh."

Some of the other kids agreed. Beanie glared at each of them, then threw his hands up. "Fine! Just hurry up so I can get another shot."

Tony glanced at the skateboard, then back at the teenagers. "If I do the trick you guys were doing, then…then I get all your money!"

They all started laughing. Sunglasses reached into his pocket. "Tell you what, little man. Here's 50 bucks. If you can do it, it's yours."

"Deal!"

Tony bent down to pick up the skateboard. He'd never touched one in his life, and it was almost as tall as he was. No backing down now. He set it on the ground, and the teenagers took a few steps back. One foot on. Tony remembered seeing the other kids flipping the board, remembered how their feet and legs moved. Putting both feet on, he took a deep breath. 'Here we go.' 3…2…1…

There!

He stepped off the skateboard, beaming. Somehow, someway, he did it.

The teenagers all stood there, mouths wide open and silent. None of them moved for what felt like minutes. Finally, Freckles exhaled and said, "No way!"

"How the hell did this pipsqueak do it?"

Tony looked at Sunglasses and held out his hand. "You said that money's mine if I could do it."

Before Sunglasses could do or say anything, Beanie snatched the money. "Ain't no way we're paying this little dipshit! He's gotta be cheating."

"How?" one of the kids asked. "We all saw him do it."

"Doesn't matter! He's not getting a cent of my money."

Thinking quick, Tony did the only thing that came to mind. "B-but I…I…What's that?!" He pointed down the alley, trying to act scared of something.

Beanie and the other kids fell for it, looking where he pointed. "I don't see…"

Tony snatched the money from his hand and ran.

"Hey! Hey, get back here you little bitch!"

"You're so dead!" Freckles called.

Heart pounding in his chest, Tony laughed as he ran onto the street. If he could just outrun them, then he'd be home free with 50 bucks. Money he and his mother could use. Something whispered right behind him, a voice that left a chill across his skin. He looked back at the teenagers, who didn't seem to be close enough. Where had that noise come from? Whatever. They may have been bigger, but he was quicker, and–

The next thing he knew, he laid on the street, face pressed into the hard asphalt. Everything hurt, and he saw stars. He vaguely heard a car door opening, and a man's voice saying, "Oh dear God! You alright, son?"

Another voice, a woman, said, "Someone call 911!"

Then everything became dark.

The doctor that spoke with him was nice. He had a soothing voice, reminding Tony of the bits of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood he'd caught on department store tv's. The last time he was in the hospital was for a sprained ankle he got while running from a vicious dog that got out of its owner's yard. He didn't care for hospitals, the nauseating smell of antiseptic and being surrounded by sick people.

"Your mother's on her way, Anthony," the doctor said with a comforting smile. "We called her at work, and told her where you were."

"My name's Tony. No one calls me Anthony."

"Okay. Tony. That's a nice name."

The door flew open, and his mother entered, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide with panic. She still wore her yellow waitress uniform under her jacket. "Tony, oh my God!" she said, wrapping him in a suffocating hug. She then touched his cheeks and checked him all over. "Oh baby, what happened? Are you hurt?"

"Your son was involved in a car accident, ma'am," the doctor said. "He has some light bruising and skinned knees, but otherwise he's fine. It could've been a lot worse."

His mother exhaled, holding the table with one hand for balance. "That's a relief." She held his cheeks and stared into his eyes. "Don't ever scare me like that again, baby. Okay? My heart can't take it."

"I won't mom," Tony said, trying to put her at ease by smiling.

"Mrs. Masters…"

"Ms." she corrected.

"Ms. Masters, now that you're here, there are a few thing I would like to discuss with you."

She sat down in a chair, putting her purse in her lap. "Okay. What things?"

"We performed a routine MRI on your son to determine if there was any brain trauma from the accident."

"There wasn't, was there?"

The doctor smiled. "No, not at all. He's in good health." He grabbed a couple of clear plastic sheets with his imaging results and attached them to a light panel. "But what we noticed was some odd activity here in the hippocampus, the area chiefly responsible for memory, and here in the motor cortex. They appear to be highly developed compared to the average child Tony's age. I was wondering if we could have your permission to run a few tests."

She furrowed her brow at the scans, then back at Tony. "Well…it's not gonna hurt him, is it?"

"Not in the slightest. The tests will involve Tony performing a few tasks, such as running on a treadmill or throwing a ball around. We'll attach some electrodes to his head so we can monitor his brain activity while he does them. You can tell us to stop at any point if you're not comfortable."

She nodded, then looked at Tony. "Well, what do you think, Tony? You think you're up for that?"

He nodded. "Yep. I can do that."

The doctor smiled. "Great! Let's get started." A little while later, they took him to a room full of treadmills, weights, barbells, and other exercise equipment. The doctor handed him a rubber ball while a nurse put electrodes on the side of his head. They were connected to a computer at the edge of the room. His mother stood by the door, giving him an encouraging smile. "Now Tony," the doctor said, "we'll start you off easy. All I want you to do is toss the ball in the air and catch it with your other hand. Okay?"

Tony nodded.

Once the doctor and the others stood in front of the computers, he said, "Start whenever you're ready."

Tony tossed the ball, then caught it. He'd been playing catch and bouncing a ball by himself since he could remember. Doing it a few more times, he worked up to juggling two balls. He wasn't very good at it, since he dropped one or both more times than he caught them.

"I want you to watch this, Tony." The doctor put a tape into a VCR, then turned on the tv. It was a video of a man juggling two balls in the street. He did it with his eyes closed while other people watched him. Tony studied the man, noting how his arms moved and how coordinated he was. Just like with the teenagers and the skateboard, something changed inside him. A memory he'd never had before, but somehow felt like he'd always had it. "Now try again."

This time, he could juggle both balls without dropping one. While his eyes were closed.

"Good job, baby!"

"Now that is interesting," the doctor noted.

Next came spinning a hula hoop. Just like with the juggling, once he saw someone else do it, he could do it perfectly. After that was a round on a treadmill, where he managed to run at top speed with perfect form after watching a recording of Jesse Owens at the 1936 Berlin Olympics. He couldn't lift weights like a strongman, being a scrawny eight year-old. But he could replicate almost anything.

It wasn't something he had to focus hard to do. It came naturally, like breathing or running. Anything he saw, he somehow knew and could do himself even if he'd never heard of the task before. They finally stopped when Tony managed to perform a one hand-stand. On a stool. Balanced on two stacks of books.

"Incredible," the doctor said, shaking his head in amazement. "He's mastered almost every task I've given him."

"I wouldn't believe it if I weren't seeing it," his mother said. "So-so what is this? What does he have?"

"It appears your son has an extraordinarily rare condition. I read about it in medical school, but it happens so seldom most people think it's a myth. Essentially, he has what we refer to as 'photographic reflexes'. Anything he sees, his brain's unique structure allows him to instantly memorize and perform it, regardless of difficulty."

Tony hopped down from the stool, landing on his feet with a big smile on his face.

"Ms. Masters, your son is very special."

She looked at Tony, matching his smile. "Yes, he is."

1993; Tokyo…

Ellen Pierce fidgeted in her dress, tugging at the collar. 'I hate these stupid parties!' she thought, frowning as all the guests chatted and dined. Everyone in attendance was someone important, either from the military, some foreign agency or company, or from the State Department where her father worked. Being the daughter of the host, she had to support her father by being present.

And she hated every minute of it.

Growing up, she'd lacked for nothing. Her father was a well-respected and influential man, with friends and connections across the government. Her mother had inherited a fortune from her grandfather, involved with his firm and several charities. Ellen's first few years required special medical care, due to health problems associated with premature birth. She'd undergone half a dozen different surgeries before her fifth birthday. This, along with frequent relocation due to her father's job, often prevented her from playing with children her own age. As a result, she withdrew into the safety of her family's various residences, watching television and reading old fantasy books.

Ellen sometimes overheard her parents or caretakers describe her as a 'happy child' despite her chronic health problems. Things like that made her feel small and broken. Maybe other kids were healthier or bigger, but she truly enjoyed watching the Jetsons or reading the Hobbit for the umpteenth time. One year, while they lived in London, she wore a tablecloth around her neck, held a butterknife in one hand, and stomped around the garden barefoot. She demanded anyone who saw her to call her 'Ellen Oakenshield'. That made her parents and household staff laugh.

She might not have been the strongest girl, but she wouldn't let anything bring her down.

On occasion, her parents would host dinner parties such as this one. Ellen hated those days, as her mother would force her to wear dresses and comb her hair. There wasn't anything to do at the parties, except behave and smile. This one also coincided with her eleventh birthday. Conversing with stuffy old generals and local Japanese politicians wasn't her idea of a fun time.

She was small for her age, and quite self-conscious about it. Other kids at the fancy prep school she attended teased her constantly. As soon as they saw her reading her copy of the Hobbit one day during lunch hour, they started calling her 'goblin' and 'dwarf'.

Just yesterday, she'd been picked up by a car her father sent, crying the whole way back after being humiliated. Someone had rigged a paint bomb to go off when Ellen opened her locker, ruining all her books and covering her in bright green paint. The other kids had all laughed at her. She'd locked herself in her room for the rest of the day.

The incident remained seared into her memory.

She wandered through the dining room, passing groups of men in suits and women in fancy dresses. Her father stood with the American ambassador and a trio of Japanese businessmen, talking about some sort of upcoming government contracts. It didn't interest Ellen in the slightest. He spared her a few glances, giving her encouraging smiles each time. She smiled back, grateful. She'd overheard him yelling on the phone with the school that morning because of what the other kids had done. Whenever things got bad, her father always supported her.

With nothing to do, Ellen grabbed a handful of hors d'oeuvres and retreated to a quiet corner of the room. The next few minutes were spent eating and watching boring old people talk about boring things. All she wanted was for everyone to leave so she could go back to her room and not have to face the world.

One of her father's friends approached her, and her stomach knotted with dread. She hated talking with these people. He was tall and dark-skinned, with a thin head of hair and a charming face. "Hi there," he greeted with a friendly smile.

"Hi, I'm Ellen," she said, robotically repeating the phrase from the million other times.

The man extended a hand, which she shook after a moment's hesitation. "It's nice to meet you Ellen. Is it okay if I stand over here with you?"

She shrugged. "If you want."

He stood beside her, with his back to the wall as he faced the rest of the guests. "My name's Nick Fury."

Ellen frowned, looking up at him. "Is that really your name?"

Fury chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose it is a bit of a weird name. Don't worry, though; I'm not that angry of a person. My mama on the other hand, let me tell you: that woman could blow a house down when she gets worked up."

Ellen snorted, despite herself. After eating her last meatball skewer, she asked, "So how do you know my dad?"

"We met through a mutual acquaintance. I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

"The what?"

He gave her a knowing smirk. "Not the easiest name, I'll grant you. I'm Deputy Chief of the station in Colombia, here on business. Let's just say it's my job to keep people safe. I find bad guys and stop them before they can do any bad stuff."

"Like Ninja Turtles?"

Fury laughed so hard he had to take a moment to catch his breath. "We do it without swords or skateboards, but that's kind of the same thing." He looked down at her with a more serious expression and said, "I hear you're having some trouble at school."

Ellen looked down at the floor, desperately wishing she could shrink and disappear.

"Your dad told me," Fury explained. "It's never fun when your classmates are picking on you, is it?"

"How would you know?" she bit out, pulling a few blonde locks over her eyes like a protective shield.

"Believe it or not, I was bullied in school, too. Kids can be real mean sometimes, and they don't even need a reason. I know how angry you can get when every day is like that. It's like…you're sick inside, and it only gets worse. If you let it go on too long, eventually all that anger spills out and makes you do something you'll wind up regretting."

Ellen looked up at him, curious despite herself. "What did you do about it?"

He crossed his arms. "I started taking martial arts classes. And while I may not be anything like Bruce Lee, it made a big difference."

"How?"

"It helped me properly channel my anger and deal with my problems. Gave me something to focus on. After a while, I was able to work through my problems and enjoy life again. You can't control how other people act, but you can control how you respond to life's challenges."

She thought about it, imagining herself able to give those kids a spinning roundhouse kick to the face or punch them across the room. They wouldn't be laughing with broken noses.

"Anyway, I just thought I'd come over and see how you were doing."

Remembering her mother's lessons on politeness, Ellen shook his hand and said, "Thanks, Mr. Fury. And I think you have a cool name."

He smiled. "Why thank you very much. It was nice meeting you, Ellen." He started to walk away, then stopped and said, "Oh, by the way. I got you a little birthday present." Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small purple book and gave it to her. "It's nothing much, just a journal. Something to write down what you're feeling or doodle when you get bored."

Ellen opened the journal, flipping through all the blank pages. "I love it. Thank you, Mr. Fury." With a nod, he walked off, leaving her alone once more. She felt a little better after their conversation, even though she still wanted to avoid school for the rest of her life.

A week after the party, she convinced her father to sign her up for Taekwondo lessons.

Merry Christmas, one and all!

I hope everyone has been having a wonderful holiday with loved ones. The pandemic has been hard on us all, but this time of year represents hope and good cheer. We can get through this, if we all do our part.

This story has been rattling around in my brain for a while now. The MCU is near and dear to my heart, but I didn't start working on my own fanfic until after I read The Wyvern by emmagnetised. If you haven't already, do yourselves a favour and read that story. I found it absolutely life-changing with how emotional that story was.

I actually had written my four OCs as the protagonists of their own stories, but my demented brain found a way to weld them into a single story. Hence, I present to you the first chapter of my new story. This is an AU of the MCU, adjacent in terms of the Multiverse. I'll be drawing on some comic stuff as well as the Netflix shows and Agents of Shield. The MCU has a villain problem, as we all know, so one of my primary goals with this story is to provide characters and groups on the more villainous side of the scale that will continue through the events of several movies and the timeline.

So, with all that said, I hope you all enjoy my latest offering! I'll post the second chapter tomorrow, and after that I'll stick to a weekly uploading schedule.