Author's note: Hey guys here's chapter two! I know that there is no sign of our cute caped crusaders but they will be here soon. I realize that I didn't post a summary with my first chapter like I intended.

This story begins right before Iron Man but I raised Steve Rogers from the ice early.

This story is mostly cannon (as much as it can be adding a new character), however, I am disregarding several small plot detail which I have no doubt you will notice as you read further on. This will slowly cause the story to deviate more and more. But I'll try to stay as accurate to the movies as possible. However, I will be ignoring 'Agents of Shield' for the most part , but i will borrow a few ideas from the show.

As much as I wish I owned the exceptionally gorgeous Captain America and the morosly sexy Loki, god of trickery, i am only borrowing all marvel characters and their universe so that my character, Griselda Wentworth (aka The Child's Knife), has a place to live.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review!

Hugs and kisses,

Storybooksage

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The woman who had introduced her self as 'The Child's Knife' had untied the children's' hands and feet and checked all of their immediately visible wounds. Many of them now had bandages and wraps on their arms and legs and the young boy who had been struck had a cold compress on his cheek. Upon inspection of the building the woman discovered that the adults had feasted not long ago. The children had all been given crackers and water from the other room where the 'guests' had eaten before the auction. The guests-turned-prisoners sat huddled in a corner and the dead bodies of the Child's Knife's victims lay in front of them the knives removed from their necks and resheathed on the woman's belt. No one had dared to speak to or even look at the woman after she had almost slapped the madam unconscious. The offensive excuse for a caretaker was gently rubbing her cheek and mumbling about the crazy daughter of a demon. Not only did she have a throng of welts but her left eye was turning a nasty shade of purple.

The heroine sat on the window sill where she could keep an eye on both groups and watch for her 'friends'. Her black wig was itching like crazy but she refused to scratch it. Her eyelids and nose were sweating underneath the prosthetics and she was more than ready to remove the tight necklace that cause her voice to sound higher and scratchier than her natural. Even though the monsters were incapacitated she still didn't remove her disguise. Not while it was possible they could describe her to her still free enemies. Out in the street three black government issue suburbans pulled up outside the building. The Child's Knife grinned joyously at the children, "Those are my friends. We are going to take you to the country where you will be free." She smiled half to herself thinking about the commune like farm where the children would grow up. They would be protected from all harm but would still be educated and given working skills for when they grew up.

A man in a tailored suit entered the room and crossed to the woman. "Hello, Knife," his face was somber but his green eyes were kind, "I trust that all of the children have survived?"

She stood before him her back straight and her feet shoulder length apart. "Yes sir." Her voice was professional and commanding despite calling the man 'sir'. "Unfortunately I had a bit of trouble with the hostiles." She glanced at the bloodied bodies. "They will need processed and taken to one of the holding facilities. The children are in need of medical and hygienic care. Take them to the nearest medical facility and then meet me at the safe house."

She turned to stride out of the room when a shout behind her caused her to look at the adults. The man who had offered her the money stood up and was pointing a gun at her. She barely had time to leap to the side before he fired. Half angry that he had tried anything and half annoyed that she hadn't searched him, she jumped to her feet and threw a knife at him. It buried itself up to the hilt in his eye and he dropped to the ground.

She waited for someone else to even twitch, a thin dagger in each fist. For what seemed like forever no one moved, no one breathed, no one even blinked. Foot steps pounded up the stairs and half a dozen agents burst in the room carrying fully automatic weapons ready to spray the room if need be.

Knife replaced the daggers in her hands to her belt and decided to leave the one in the eyeball of the shooter, it wasn't worth retrieving. One of the agents glanced at her, his eyes wide in a silent question. Part of her wanted to order them to shoot the other seven adults but a bigger more logical part of her knew that she needed the information they had.

"Arrest them and take them to the boat." The guards nodded and hauled the remaining men and the madam to their feet and half lead half dragged them to the door, "One more thing," she stalked forward and grabbed the woman's hand,

"Tell everyone who asks that the Child's Knife is not merciful." She pressed her ring into the back of the madam's hand. The madam howled in pain, jerked back her hand and stared at the burn in the shape of a knife. "I leave you with this mark not because i need to punish you but to define to the other women in the prison that you abuse children. They will punish you."

By then the other agents were getting antsy and were ready to haul them down stairs. She nodded, dismissing them and they hauled the traffickers away. "Knife," the man behind her crossed his arms and his eyes flickered with frustration, "you can't mark the prisoners in front of the other agents. If this gets back to the director..."

"It wont get back because these agents were hand picked by me to keep my secrets and follow my orders." She turned to stomp down the stairs but her leg collapsed underneath her. She looked at it: a hole in her jeans revealed that she had not dodged the bullet as she had originally thought. Dark red blood had soaked the blue material all the way from her thigh to down below her knee. "Damn." She whispered right before passing out.

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Thanks for reading! I will try to post a new story every Sabbath from now on. Have a great week!

I am open to all constructive criticisms, tips, and suggestions. Be nice. But please review! :*