Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel, DC or The 100.
Warnings for childhood trauma, child abuse, child abandonment, genocide and multiple murders.
This is going off of several other "Natarke, Yelenarke, Wandarke, Dianarke" and the other fics with those ships. Where the Ark comes down early, Clarke Griffin has been locked in the skybox for years and she snaps and loses control of her nature, because she's not human and is cast out by her people.
And guess who her mates are?
That being; Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova, Maria Hill, Diana Prince, Tora Olafsdotter, Melina Vostokoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pepper Potts, Mari McCabe, Beatriz da Costa, Carol Danvers, Hela Odinsdotter, Shayera Hol, Sigrid Nansen, Brunnhilde, Helena Bertinelli, Niylah and Dinah Lance.
Here's the summary: Clarke Griffin is adopted, because she was brought back from the ground, to the Ark, by people from the Ark, exploring to see if the ground was livable. Clarke, a one-year-old at the time, bring the child back. The child is adopted by Jake and Abby Griffin. Years and years pass by. Jake is arrested and so is six-year-old Clarke. Clarke witnesses her daddy get executed. And traumatized, Clarke stays in a cell, and her instincts begin to spill through.
Eight years later, when she's fourteen, a borderline savage Clarke, losing control of her instincts, breaks out of the skybox, after the Ark lands, and she kills multiple teenagers and tears the head off of two adults, Bellamy and Raven. She then kills another adult, a council member, Kane.
She then runs off into the forest, after being rejected by her mother and her people.
Months later, she is grabbed by the Mountain Men, she kills them all by pulling the lever, then she becomes Wanheda to the tribes and she flees.
And no one, including Clarke's romantic partner soulmates or Clarke's familial soulmates, know where she's gone.
And in the meantime, as they search for her for years to come, a serial killer begins running around the cities that the Avengers, the Justice League, and the X-Men protect.
Death and the maidens
It was ten years since the…events that happened.
The Avengers and Justice League hadn't even been formed yet. The two superhero groups wouldn't be formed for another six years. But everyone had heard the story.
Clarke Griffin, a young, fourteen-year-old girl, who had come down with the rest of the Ark people, who wasn't human, who many, many of the Avengers and Justice League members had the name and mark of on them, broke out of her prison, revealing herself not to be human, and killed multiple people, adults and teenagers alike.
Clarke had torn apart ten teenagers; John Murphy, Jasper Jordan, John Mbege, Nathan Miller, Connor Almeida, Myles Dubois, Monty Green, Atom Smith, Roma Bragg and Octavia Blake.
And Clarke tore apart three adults; Raven Reyes, a council member, Markus Kane, and Octavia's older brother, Bellamy Blake.
After Clarke had killed the last of her victims, Bellamy, tearing his spine out of his back and ripping his head off and throwing his decapitated head over her shoulder, tearing the rest of his bones out as she stripped Bellamy's headless corpse of its meat.
After she was done, Abby, Clarke's adoptive mother, had been so horrified that she had cast Clarke out and told her to get away from her people.
Clarke ran into the forest and was found by the Mountain Men. The Mountain Men tried to manipulate Clarke to their ends.
But Clarke? She went against them and pulled a lever, letting poisonous air into the whole mountain, killing everyone inside, including the children and babies. This, needless to say, traumatized Clarke completely.
The Avengers and the Justice League had seen the video of Clarke Griffin pulling the lever in the control room of Mount Weather.
And they had felt for her as they watched the fourteen-year-old girl break down after what she had done to the children and babies after she had pulled the lever.
The people of the tribes, however, hadn't seen Clarke as a monster. If anything, they celebrated her. She was now called "Wanheda," the "Commander of Death." Or "Death Commander."
And Clarke, she had fled the mountain. And no one had seen her since she had killed all of the Mountain Men and liberated the tribes of the terror of the Mountain Men.
That was ten years ago. Clarke's mates all knew Clarke was alive, because if she had died, her soulmate mark and her name would have disappeared from their skin.
But they didn't know where the young, traumatized woman was.
At the Avengers base, for what had to be the millionth time, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton watched the footage of young Clarke Griffin pulling the lever and killing out the Mountain Men.
It was sad to say, but this footage of Clarke, being traumatized and crying after she wiped out the Mountain Men, was one of the few pieces of footage that they had of her.
Natasha Romanoff, Clarke's romantic partner soulmate and Clint Barton, Clarke's familial soulmate, had almost nothing to go on, on the subject of Clarke Griffin.
She'd gone missing ten years ago. And no one had seen her since. They still were looking for her. But they didn't know where she was.
As the footage ended, Natasha's green eyes met Clint's blue-green eyes, both of them looking pained.
"Any reports?" Clint asked, and Natasha shook her head slightly, resigned.
"No," she said, "I wish there was. But no."
Clint breathed out, nodding, getting up from where he and Natasha were sitting. They both knew that Laura, Clint's wife and mate would be equally as heartbroken to hear this. Clarke Griffin was Laura Barton's familial soulmate, and the familial soulmate of all of Clint and Laura's children.
Natasha and Clint both knew how much this hurt Laura.
Pepper and Tony returned into the room, after Natasha switched off the footage.
Pepper sighed as she walked in, waving a portfolio she had with her, "So, I just finished giving that journalist, Allaire, a piece of my mind," she smirked, "he'll be feeling it for a while."
Natasha managed a small smile at that.
Pepper Potts was also one of Clarke's romantic partner soulmates, so, the footage affected her too.
But Pepper focused her attention on optics. And the journalist that she had more or less chewed out, had just wrote several scathing articles on the Avengers and the Justice League, calling them dangers to society with their abilities being unchecked.
Pepper said, "Hopefully, Allaire will be feeling this for a while."
Over forty blocks from the Avengers base, and over twenty from the Justice League's base, in a bar not far from one Trikru stronghold, was John Allaire, now criticized and reviled journalist, who had seen his career suffer soon after becoming a big hit.
As soon as he thought he might obtain success? Pepper fucking Potts rode in, hitting him hard emotionally, pointing out he had no grounds for anything.
Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill, had thrown previous barbs at him and those barbs had landed. And had admittedly, caused harm.
Now, Allaire was raving and snapping, drunk off his ass in the bar.
He snarled at the TV, showing footage of the Avengers' latest victory, against a bunch of terrorists in England.
"You fucking Avengers!" He spat, throwing his bottle at the TV, making several patrons and customers at the bar alike, cry out in alarm.
Allaire continued, "You ruined my life! You fucking whores. Potts bitch, Romanoff bitch and Hill bitch. All of you should fucking die."
As the bartender tried to calm him down, hanging out in the back, was a figure, leering at the scene from the shadows, smirking, her eyes almost black, but if anyone paid a bit closer attention? They would have noticed that the figure in the shadows, had sky-blue eyes only seconds ago.
The figure in the shadows, watching Allaire, grinned viciously, a dark hood over her head, almost obscuring all of her pale blonde hair, but not entirely.
As Allaire was pushed out of the bar, she slowly got up and followed him.
Over the next few days, Allaire got the distinct sense that he was being followed. He didn't know by who, but he could feel it. Someone was watching him.
It wouldn't be for another four days, till his suspicions were confirmed. By then, it would be too late for him to call for help.
At that time, the Avengers and the Justice League and the Defenders, all had a mission, and there were cameras on them as they defeated the villains known as "The Hand."
So, when it happened, the Avengers, the Justice League and the Defenders all had alibis.
So, no suspicion was flung at them.
But everyone had heard what happened.
John Allaire, one of the most controversial journalists, was dead. Murdered.
He'd been murdered in his own home, not long after Pepper had dragged his name through the mud.
Someone had broken into his flat, had grabbed him around the throat, had lifted him up off of the floor, and had choked the life out of him.
Whoever had done it, had worn gloves. So, no fingerprints were left behind.
Allaire was dead. The life choked out of him, and his neck was broken for good measure.
In some ways, it added up with all the other murders.
A murderer had been running around for about four years now. Someone was murdering people. And there was no explanation for how they got into these peoples' apartments, and how they got out without being noticed.
But someone was murdering people. And while it hadn't been announced yet, Fury and most of SHIELD had started getting a profile together. On the killer.
From the clues they'd picked up over time? The killer killed people that tried to hurt the Avengers and the other superhero groups.
But why?
A particularly dangerous and obsessed fan?
Someone trying to frame the Avengers or one of the other superhero groups?
Someone who just thought that they were being helpful by disposing of people they thought of as trash, for disrespecting superhero groups?
Honestly, there was no answer that they had at the moment.
But one thing was for sure, that hadn't yet been announced to the public, was that someone was murdering people that slandered the Avengers, the Justice League, the Defenders and the X-Men.
After putting together several murders that had occurred throughout the city, they realized that it was an inevitable conclusion.
The very first victim, had madly announced on the news that people like Wanda Maximoff, should be locked away permanently for being as powerful as she was; the victim's name had been Mark Longo, and he had hated people like Wanda. It wasn't that Wanda and her brother, Pietro were mutants.
It was that Wanda was a mutant, and because the experiments with HYDRA had given her magic as well.
He feared her not just because he was afraid of mutants, but because of her other abilities.
Two weeks after he had called for Wanda's permanent incarceration, Mark Longo, had been found hanging by his ankles over the edge of a building, with chains, and his mouth was gagged, and his wrists and ankles were slashed open. He'd been bled out all over the streets below.
He'd bled to death, needless to say.
That had been four years ago.
Some of the murders were bloodier than others. Some involved almost no blood.
Which was why many believed that it was a different killer. But SHIELD was certain. It was the same killer, every time.
Because why was it always someone that would call for the control of someone in the superhero groups or for control of all the superhero groups?
The papers were laid out all over a wide table, before Fury, the Avengers and the Justice League, as they looked down at the many photos of the victims. There were an array of what had to have been terribly painful for the victims. Broken bones, slashed up flesh, torn out organs.
Each of these things had been done with gloved hands and knives.
It had been brought to a conclusion, that whoever was doing the killings, had powers.
Because how else had they gotten into entirely locked houses and apartments, without any sign of breaking and entering?
And there was no sign of any locks being picked. And each victim only had one key to their place.
Someone had somehow gotten in and had left no sign of themselves within any apartment or any house they had gotten into.
And each victim had been killed brutally. Sadistically.
The most recent one, John Allaire, had brought them to an unexpected location. A bar that Allaire had attended a few days before his murder.
Why had this interest in the bar, been ignited? Because Allaire had been expressing concerns that he was being followed and stalked right around the time he had left the bar, starting from that night.
Which meant that whoever had gone after him, had likely started in that bar.
Which had led them to tracking down the footage from the cameras of the bar that Allaire frequented.
They had confiscated all of the digital files with the footage, and had zeroed in on the footage that was recorded on the night that Allaire had gone to the bar, a few days before his death.
They watched the footage, and they watched it over and over, till they found something rather interesting.
The drunken John Allaire, stumbled out of the bar, raving about how all the superheroes were going to take over and that humanity was doomed-apparently, deeming the humans that were a part of these superhero groups as "not human," and soon after he had left the bar, a figure dressed in black, with a hood up over their head, followed Allaire out of the bar.
"Who is that?" Maria asked, eyeing the figure following Allaire out of the bar.
"That's the million dollar question," Natasha said dryly, "Let's see if we can get a close up of this person's face."
Maria zoomed in on the face from one angle from another camera, showing the person's face.
The Avengers and the Justice League's eyes widened.
It was a woman.
The woman on the screen, grinned in the direction of Allaire.
Maria slowed down the footage. One moment, the woman's eyes were sky-blue. The next moment? They were black.
The two superhero groups shared a look. Not a normal murderer, just as they'd thought.
The woman had pale blonde hair sticking out from under her hood.
The woman was holding something in her hand. A closer inspection of the freeze frame, showed that what the woman was holding, was a small picture of some sort. Like a small replica of a painting.
Maria took a picture of the painting replica and looked it up. Apparently, the original painting was "The Angel of Death," by Horace Vernet. It was a painting inspired by the whole, "Death and the maiden" trope.
Why would the killer be running around with a small replica of that painting?
The woman crept out of her booth, still holding the replica of the painting, going across the bar, as Allaire left. She left the doorway of the bar, and ran after Allaire.
They now had a face to put to the murderer of the many, many victims that had dropped over the past four years.
This caused them to relook at the footage of several other murder victims before they were found in their homes, dead.
More careful looks at the footage, revealed the same person, following the previous victims.
They didn't know who the woman was. But when the news anchor by the name of Joseph Longo, Mark Longo's brother, started spouting the same things that his brother had spouted, about the Avengers and the Justice League, the many superheroes knew that he wasn't long for this world. Which was what led them to sending out teams of people to protect him.
During one of these shifts, it was Natasha that came to a realization, that she didn't want to acknowledge.
She and Clint were watching the younger Longo brother from across his building, on top of the building across from Joseph Longo. And they all were in communication with the others through the headsets they had on.
And it was during this surveillance, that Natasha opened up a possible subject of who the killer might be.
She said, as the night's darkness began to spread, as soon as the sun was down, "I don't think any of us want to think about this, but it's interesting that the killer's eyes turn black, isn't it?"
"I guess," Maria answered on her headset, unsure of where Natasha was going with this.
Natasha said, narrowing her eyes at the window where Joseph Longo was, but even if she was professional and keeping an eye on him, she still had a good deal of her mind elsewhere, "And isn't it interesting, how all the victims have stigmatized us in some way? Like the killer is protecting us."
Carol grimaced as she answered on her headset, flying around with Thor and Brunnhilde, watching the apartment complex from above, "Romanoff, just say what you want to say. I think we both know it's time for the other shoe to drop."
Carol and Natasha both had been thinking it for a while. But neither of them wanted to say it.
Natasha sighed, "There was footage we had of Clarke Griffin, when she was breaking out of her skybox. Remember? Her eyes were black."
There were almost no words for a while, then Clint looked at Natasha, his expression shocked at Natasha's suggestion. "No," he said, "You…you don't think-?"
Natasha shook her head, honestly not wanting to contemplate that possibility, even if every part of her that was logical, knew the truth.
"Wait," Dinah's voice came in, "Romanoff, you're saying that you think Clarke is…"
"Action," Tony called in, "We have action, coming in. Ground level."
The group looked down at the ground level of the building, seeing a figure climbing up along the length of the building. The figure climbed up along the wall of the building, getting closer and closer to Joseph Longo's window.
And the figure was moving with immense agility and speed.
The figure was dressed in back, their hair covered too.
When the figure was only inches from the window where Joseph Longo's apartment was, they got ready. Clint and Natasha pulled out their weapons, but stopped. What if the person climbing up the length of the building in fact, was Clarke?
But Thor had no restraints. He lunged down from the sky, reaching out for the figure climbing up, trying to grab the climbing figure, but the figure was faster than Thor. And apparently, and most unexpectedly? Stronger.
The figure twisted around and grabbed Thor's left outstretched arm, twisting Thor and throwing him down onto the streets below, his body crashing through the gravel and cement, without the figure even appearing tired.
"Oh…," Clint mumbled, his senses for now leaving him. It looked like even if they had decided to open fire on this figure, it wouldn't have made a difference.
The figure that twisted around, looked up, looked right at Natasha and Clint, the figure grinned and let out a bone chilling roar, making everyone who could hear each other on the headsets, gasp.
The figure leapt down from the height that it had climbed up, jumping down to the wrecked cement, next to the now unconscious Thor.
Everyone moved fast to get down the ground.
The figure, to everyone's surprise, waited for them.
Natasha, Clint, Maria, Carol, Brunnhilde, and the rest of those that were there, arrived at the bottom of the building, and stood in front of the killer.
The killer in question, smirked at them, her mouth spreading in the smirk, revealing a far too nasty grin.
However, as soon as this killer looked at the women who were the romantic partner soulmates of Clarke Griffin, several of them tensed, feeling the connection.
The killer-Clarke Griffin, grimaced and growled, but said nothing.
"Clarke," Clint said, when he reached the group, eyes meeting Clarke's, and he could feel the familial soulmate connection, "You…you've been killing people-"
"Yes, for all of you," Clarke growled, eying Natasha, Clint, Maria and the others, "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Wanheda. The Commander of Death." She grinned viciously at her romantic partner soulmates, observing Natasha, Maria, Carol, Brunnhilde, Diana, Wanda, Beatriz and the others, "Or…as the tribes call me in some locations, the 'Angel of Death.' And you," she sneered, trying to ignore her yearning, staring at Natasha, Wanda, Brunnhilde, Carol, Mari, Diana, Maria, Shayera, Helena, Dinah and the others hungrily, looking at them as if they were pure innocents who deserved anything, except the attentions of a frightening, angel of death, "My ladies, have just met death. Your mate. Are you happy to see that your mate is death?"
Author's note
This was just a very rough idea I came up with, with no real importance, not meant to go anywhere.