Who knew that the world would lose its shit over a virus. We'd had alien invasions for goodness sake, the kind of thing that you would think would cause the world to feel like it was ending. In 2012 the world learned without a doubt that we were not alone in the universe and sure there was temporary panic. But it didn't feel like the world was ending. After all, superheroes were real now.

I mean, it was decades before 2012 that the world started to become more aware of the fact that people with superhuman abilities and skills existed. But they weren't taken seriously as a whole. We learned about Captain America in school for example. People who are obsessed with science knew all about how a scientist was trying to recreate the serum that created Captain America and a lab accident created a being called The Hulk. We knew that there were humans with abilities due to a mutation in their genetics.

But these facts were background noise of life really. Then in 2010, a billionaire announced that he was Iron Man. In 2011, a small town in New Mexico was nearly leveled in a death match between literal gods. 2012 aliens invaded and attacked New York. 2013 evil elves from the ends of space tried to end the whole universe. 2014 we learned about super secret government organization that was all about spies and oh yeah it's been infiltrated by Nazi douchebags. 2015 psychotic sentient robots try to exterminate human life and a whole city goes flying and a country is destroyed.

You get the picture I don't need to go on. The fact is, the world has seen a lot of crazy shit since the turn of the 21st century. And it just kept trucking on.

And then a stupid virus that was part of a family of viruses that cause among other things, the common cold, was reported. At the end of the year in 2019, news started to filter in. But it was half the world away, it wasn't going to really affect the US. There had been other infectious diseases that had been vicious and deadly, but the panic over them never lasted long and barely affected the average American. So, the idea that a virus called SARS-CoV-2 aka COVID-19 would do any serious change in the average American's life was laughable.

Joke was on us. It did. It affected the whole world. It ground things to a halt in a way that no one ever expected it would. The country—hell the world panicked. People panicked. The world changed in a way that even an alien invasion didn't change things.

And more importantly, it drastically and dramatically changed my life. Changed my life for the better. All because my school announced it was shutting down and I got told I didn't qualify for "hardship" to let me stay in the dorms. So, I was left trying to figure something out. Scrambling for a way to stay in the city because I did not want to return to Wisconsin. To my "family". Frustrated with it all, I had decided to tune out the world and go for a walk in Central Park.

Because I actively decided to tune things out, I left myself open and vulnerable. And of course a couple of assholes were going to try and take advantage of that. When I had gotten jumped I fought back. I wasn't completely defenseless. I knew basic self defense. I also had my empath skills—oh yeah you know those people I mentioned who were born with a genetic mutation that gave them powers? Yeah. I'm one of those.

But despite that I became the classic damsel in distress. And I knew I wasn't getting rescued because I mean c'mon that doesn't actually happen.

Except it did.

And that's when my personal world took such a dramatic turn.

"Yo! Sexy mama!"

I ignored the voice. Catcalling was just a point of reality in the world, best to be ignored. And besides I just didn't want to deal. When the voice called out again, I hunched further into myself. Most of the people around me were still bundled into winter coats. But the temps were hovering around the 45-50 degree fahrenheit mark, and I was born and raised in the Midwest. Winter in the city was comparably milder than what I had grown used to as a child and teenager.

So, I had ditched my winter coat and was just wearing a sweater. But now that voice was reminding me one of the reasons why wearing a winter coat could be useful.

I turned my music up to drown it out. On the 12th, the stupid governor had ordered that all college campuses to close within the week, moving all classes to online. Dorms were being shut down. Only students who could stay in their dorms were the ones being labeled as necessary to stay because of "hardship". I apparently did not qualify for that. Which meant I needed to somehow find somewhere to live effective immediately. Which was ridiculous because it was March and New York was ridiculously expensive. Which is why despite being several years older than most of my dormmates I had elected to live in the stupid dorms in the first place.

When a hand gripped my upper arm and yanked me to a stop, I reacted poorly. And by poorly I mean instead of reacting defensively I lamely tried to just yank my arm out of the grip while I shouted, "What the actual fuck!"

I was yanked around to face a man who looked mean. And the emotions leaking into me from his touch made it very clear that his looks reflected his actual character.

"I was talking to you." the man basically yelled into my face.

My brain decided to roll over and make the situation worse, yanking on my arm to try and get out of it I spit out, "And I was ignoring you, douchenozzle. Take a fucking hint."

His face flooded with red, his anger sparking off him in a kaleidoscope of color that only I could see. A soft snick sounded and when my head jerked towards it I saw that Mr. Grabby-douche had a friend. And that friend had just pulled a knife.

"JesusfuckingChrist on a cracker" came out of my mouth quickly followed by a harder yank on my arm as I said through clenched teeth, " Let. Me. Go."

One of them laughed. It's never good when they laugh. Another hard yank and the fabric of my sleeve ripped and I stumbled back into Knife Guy. Who caught my backwards movement easily and clamped a gross arm around me.

Mr. Grabby moved in then, face all up in my breathing space as he grinned broadly and said, "I think someone needs to teach you some manners."

My brain engaged a little then, I gripped the arm banded around my chest and I pushed out against the man's mind. Encouraging him to let me go. It was a part of my talents that I didn't often use, mostly because it felt like a massive violation but also because it always ended up leaving me feeling all sorts of woozy and mildly disoriented. Like I shotgunned six beers in a row. Even if you have a high tolerance for booze doing that can fuck with your perceptions.

Unfortunately, either he had his own powers that were protecting him or I waited too long and his mind was to set on what he and Mr. Grabby were planning because it did literally nothing but cause me to become weak. My knees buckled and the only reason I didn't fall was because Knife Guy was still holding me tight against his body.

I could tell the weakness I just displayed excited them both. They thought they had won. And I guess they had. I felt the cold press of metal on my skin then, knowing it was the knife.

But then, suddenly, they were both gone. And I was dropping like a stone. Landing painfully on my wrist and cracking my head on the ground in the process. My vision blurred, going grey at the edges and my stomach roiled.

"Hey. Woah. Are you okay?" a voice spoke from above me. I struggled to push up to sitting, the whole world spinning so I collapsed with a groan.

I struggled to focus my eyes on the two people currently crouching over me. They were vaguely familiar.

Eloquently I managed to say "Hot damn. You guys are fucking hot."

And then I passed out.

A persistent beeping was the first thing I was conscious of, pulling me from the deep cotton comfort of sleep. It confused me. It was rhythmic and constant. Not my alarm. I could feel I was on some kind of bed. Prying my heavy eyes opened I squinted at the sudden brightness of the room, muttering "Ah fuck the sun."

Almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth the room was darkening as the floor to ceiling windows on one side of the room went from clear to shaded.

I stared for long moments at the windows. Wondering how they worked. Then that rhythmic beeping disrupted my thoughts and I looked around. I seemed to be in some kind of medical room. One that was a lot nicer than any I had ever been in, but it definitely was a hospital room nonetheless. When I attempted to sit up, my head spun and the beeping increased.

"Please stay still. Someone will be in shortly to examine you." A musically accented Irish voice stated.

I jerked in surprise, sending shockwaves of pain through my head and weirdly my side. Ignoring the pain the best I could I looked around the room, trying to see where the person who had spoken was. But it was pretty clear there was no one in the room.

"Hello? Who's there?"

I rolled my eyes at myself, painfully, because only an idiot calls out to the creepy unseen voice. Super smart Edie, announce yourself to the creepy hidden killer.

I started to attempt to get up again, tugging on the wires attaching me to the machine that was tracking my heartbeat and pulse, the source of the rhythmic sounds that had dragged me into consciousness.

"Please, Miss, I must insist that you stay still until you can be properly examined." came that voice again. It sounded like there was a person standing right next to me. But no one was.

"What the fuck is going on?"

The door on the wall opposite the windows slid open with a quiet sound and two people walked in.

One was extremely familiar to me.

"Holy fuck! You're Dr. Banner."

The shorter of the two gave a nervous kind of laugh as he rubbed his hands together and came over to the bed, "Yes. I am. Um."

He looked at the other man, Doctor or nurse I didn't know but judging by the coat I was guessing doctor.

"Can you tell us your name?" He asked me.

"Edith Olson."

"Do you remember what happened?" Dr. Banner asked me.

I sighed heavily, reaching up to rub my face and becoming aware for the first time that my right wrist was in a cast. One of the sleekest looking ones I've ever seen actually. One of the men cleared their throats and I remembered I had been asked a question.

"Shit. Um. I got myself into an unfortunate situation. And then I fell and I woke up here."

The doctor motioned towards me then and said, "I need to check the bandage on your side."

"Bandage?" I watched as he gently moved the gown I was wearing until I exposed the large white bandage on my side.

"What the fuck happened?"

"You were stabbed, it was relatively minor, didn't hit any organs or anything. You also have a broken wrist and we were pretty sure a concussion but when you remained unconscious we were getting concerned." Dr. Banner said.

The door opened again and two more men entered, both I recognized. One of them being one of the men who I had seen after I had fallen.

"Ah. Good. FRIDAY said she was finally awake." Tony Stark said as he moved over to stand at the end of my bed.

"You're Tony Stark."

He smirked, pulling out his phone and checking it before saying, "And you're Edith Olson. 26 years old. Born and raised in Wisconsin. Currently in your last year of your dual JD and MBA at NYU. Prior to that you attended the UW-Milwaukee where you got a Masters in English with an emphasis on language and linguistics and a BS in American Sign Language—-hm know someone who is gonna like that."

I felt my brows furrow, "And how do you know all that?"

"Honey, it's not like that information is super difficult to find on the internet. I've also been through all of your social media accounts."

"Well, that's invasive and rude. You had no right." I shot back.

"Perhaps we could get back to the task at hand?" the second man who had entered said from where he was leaning against the wall.

Tony rolled his eyes, "Ah, yes, Capsicle is right. You are here because you happened to need to be rescued by him and fly boy."

I rolled my eyes in return, immediately regretting it as the motion sent my head throbbing again. When I winced Dr. Banner stepped forward again asking, "You are in pain?"

"Bitch of a headache."

"That'll be the concussion," the doctor put in

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." I snapped, immediately regretting the temper flash when I picked up on the amusement from Tony and mild disapproval coming off of Steve.

"Well, this has been great and all but I seriously need to be going. I'm being kicked out of my dorm and I need to figure something out—" I paused for a moment before I asked, "Exactly how long have I been here?"

"Three days. Which is why we were so concerned."

"Three days! Shit that means it's—I've got exactly two days to figure something out before I'm literally fucked and completely homeless."

I started to get up again, trying to yank the IV out of my hand. Both the doctor and Dr. Banner stepped up to press me back on the bed.

"Look, we can't just let you go. You were unconscious for a while, with no apparent reason. Now that you are awake we can do more to try and figure out why—"

"I already know why, and while I appreciate the rescue and the medical care, I have a shit situation to get back to."

"How do you already know why you were unconscious? Has this happened before?" Tony asked.

Maybe it was a combination of stress and possibly some kind of drug they might have given me for pain, but I found myself throwing my usual caution about my abilities out the window as I snapped, "I have empath skills. I unsuccessfully tried to use them to discourage Mr. Grabby and Mr. Stabby from doing what they clearly wanted to do to me. Instead it rebounded on me, which normally can leave me feeling all sorts of disoriented, and then when I fell and likely got this stupid concussion it became one of those perfect storm bullshit things. Now, can I go? I am apparently going to have to move back to Wisconsin with my fucking family since I'm not going to find a place in the city and the school is kicking me out."

I took a deep breath then, getting four separate but similar reactions from the men in the room with me. A mix of surprise and concern, and in Tony's case an increase in his level of amusement.

"Look, we appreciate the situation you are in, but you really aren't in any kind of condition to be doing much of anything right now. Right?" Steve's tone brokered no argument as he glanced between Dr. Banner and the doctor.

They both immediately agreed. I was getting more irritated because none of them seemed to be getting it. I sighed heavily, "I don't think you guys are getting that I really can't afford to stay. I have to pack my shit. Figure out how to get back to my family's house. Try and navigate my final fucking year through what is turning out to be some kind of fucking pandemic of all things—"

"You can stay here until you are at least more stable." Steve stated. Again in that tone of authority.

I opened my mouth to argue some more and Dr. Banner put in, "Tony can send some people to pack your things, and you can take these next couple days to recuperate before you need to leave. Maybe by then you will find somewhere to stay in the city since it seems you'd rather not go back to Wisconsin?"

"It's not the state I don't want to go back to." I muttered darkly, feeling as both Steve and Dr. Banner registered concern while Tony said, "Wait I'm gonna what?"

Both of the men shot a look at Tony and he just lifted his hands in surrender, "Okay. Okay. Fine. They are right, kid, we'll make sure your stuff gets packed."

"Don't call me fucking kid."

Tony smirked again before he shot a look at Steve, "Are you going to be able to handle this one's potty mouth?"

Steve ignored the question, though I felt the embarrassment ripple out of him as he said, "Well, Edith—"

"Edie," I interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

I sighed again as I laid back against the bed again, "I go by Edie. Edith is an old woman name."

"Edie then. We will let you rest. If you need anything just tell FRIDAY she'll get it for you or get one of us to get it."

His eyes scraped over me one more time before he turned and left, Tony following close behind, tapping away at his phone as he did.

"Dr. Banner—"

"Bruce." He interrupted me, a small smile on his face as he did.

"Bruce. How long am I going to have to stay and who the hell is FRIDAY?"

His smile widened a little, "FRIDAY is the building's A.I. and as for how long," he glanced at the doctor who answered for him.

"I'd say two to three days."

"And today is the 17th?" I asked.

"Yes." he responds.

"Fine whatever. Can I sleep now? I'm exhausted and this whole pandemic shit is depressing."

The doctor nods once and leaves the room, leaving just Bruce.

"I'd like to talk to you more about your uh—powers. When you are feeling up for it?"

I closed my eyes, "Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

I heard the door open and closed again. This was insane. I was apparently in the medical wing—floor—of the Avengers' tower and the world was going to shit over a fucking virus. I had apparently been rescued by two Avengers from two men who definitely wanted to hurt me. And all I could think was how annoying all this was and worrying about how I was going to be able to finish my degree while also dealing with my shit family that I was going to have to be forced to live with again. Because I didn't have anything else.

I felt a tear slip out from under my closed eyelids. This was a lot to deal with.