A/N: Yay a longer chapter! There are some different languages in this chapter (Not much!) but the translations will be at the end of the chapter. I'm sorry if this time line doesn't mach the movies or comic's just remember that its AU! Reviews are always welcome, Thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or the Avengers anything that you recognize is sadly Stan Lee's.

2000 Afghanistan

The Second Time

I glanced behind me again and cursed. This guy just won't let up! It had been years since someone had enough information to track me down, enough skill to keep up with me and enough courage to take me down. Who was this guy? Was he alone? I felt a hand tug my jacket and easily slipped it off and lost my oh so close tail in the crowd again.

Damn. I liked that coat.

I was running through a marketplace crowded with people. The town I was in was rundown and out of the way. It was overly dusty in the market from all the foot and small vehicle traffic, all the clothing distinct; made from the same fiber in the same colors and styles. With my black jeans, and dark near black, blue shirt and clean shaven face I stuck out… in a bad way.

The man behind me was keeping pace easily. I didn't even think about turning and fighting. Too many witnesses that doubled as innocent bystanders. Not only that but by the way he was reflexively grabbing at something in his jacket I could guess he had at least one gun if not more.

I needed to get out of the open. If this continued I could run straight into his backup and not even know it. I searched to find an alley… there! Next left here I come. I didn't occur to me that the owner of the vender in front of the alley entrance would protest me hopping over his counter. I was in the alley no problem (and no tail) in less than ten seconds. I looked back, double checking that my tag along wasn't following me anymore then turned to run again.

WHAM!

Something large and heavy struck my back with enough force to knock me too my knees. I drew my knife ready to fight when I heard a man yelling.

"مجنون الأمريكية! ترك، تذهب بعيدا! اللص، مهرب، الوغد!" (1) He waved his arms at me in a threatening manner.

I looked around me. The vender had thrown a watermelon at me. A watermelon! What a jerk! Who was I, Aladdin? I got back up and took off scooping one of the broken pieces of watermelon off the ground. Hey, lose some, win some and it was a hot day.

Welcome to the forty thieves!

I let out a hysterical giggle. The heat was getting to me. Taking a few turns I ate my watermelon slowly. At the end of the alley I came in to a broad courtyard. Surrounded by tall buildings it was the center crossways to many alleyways and only had one road big enough for one car to go in and out. Normally this would be heaven: take a breath, relax in the semi safe zone. Not this time though.

The usual short crowd of children playing a ball kicking game, women washing clothes and drawing water from the fountain, and animals running underfoot was absent. All the windows closed all alleys—besides mine—blocked. A large SUV that was once black but now resembled a dusty yellow brown blocked the street.

Standing at the center facing me, was my pursuer. In front of him, stood a tall black man with a long dark coat, his hands firmly behind his back. This was new. Never had I seen such confidence as to not point a gun at me right away. Even the other man wasn't pointing his gun at me! Impressed despite myself, I spoke first.

"مرحبا!" I spoke in fluent Arabic. "هل ترغب في مشاركة البطيخ معي أو ترغب لي أن أقتلك الآن?" (2) I smiled wickedly.

He cocked an eyebrow. "I've been tracking you for years Simon Tanner, Vince Greggor, Charles Michaels. You're a hard man to catch." He spoke calmly and evenly. I could already tell this was going to be a good fight.

"Donc, vous savez un couple de mes noms. " I spoke in French now. I tilted my head to the side and took another bite of melon. "Qu'en de-il?" (3)

His eyes narrowed. "In none of your files does it say you're bilingual. If you would be compliant enough to stick to one—preferably English—this would go much smoother."

"Где развлечься в этом?" (4) Russian this time… I was enjoying this.

"There is nothing fun about this." He glared at me. "I'm in the middle of nowhere Afghanistan, sweating my clothes off, chasing and tracking down a child playing grownup for his baby sister for too long to realize he still a small fish compared to the crap that I normally have to deal with. Now tell me: where's the fun in that?" His gaze was hard.

"Ένα παιδί που παίζει μεγαλώσει είμαι;" My voice sinister, made more so by the ancient Greek I spoke. "Επιτρέψτε μου να σας δείξει πόσο παιδαριώδη είμαι." (5) I drew my pocket knife and released it in to it's true form, a tall six and a half foot scythe with a three and a half foot curved blade. In its true form her name was Existența răului which translated to The Existence of Evil.

Existența răului was half a foot taller than me. The ebony wood had old runic symbols at its base and where I held it. Carved in to the wood it spoke of the many things she could turn into at will and how I was her only Master. The blade itself was an amazing sight. It shone with the light of many mixed metals; silver, titanium, platinum and the otherworldly sequirnum. The ruins on the blade shifted attempting to hypnotize its prey. They were set in white gold and whispered that only one touch was needed for instant death... but Existența răului knew there were worse things than a quick death.

I knew my eyes were pitch black with no white showing. My pupils had dilated so far that my brain was seeing sound waves. I was suddenly aware that there was more than just the three of us here. My head tilted to the side in a demonic way as I heard the Death Chant calling me to destruction for the first time in almost ten years. I called me to kill… to devour. Ten long tears since I had let loose my basic, primitive instinct. And boy, did I want to.

The man—what was his name?—went to draw his gun as he called for backup. The man behind him turned and fled back into one of the buildings yelling for his own gun. Shots rang out, I felt them hit me; my side, chest, and leg. Then, I reined.

Shadow traveling instantly first to the snipers on the roofs I sliced them all in two cleanly with a quick swing of my blade. I blocked two more shots from the windows then with a flying leap I jumped down four stories to the ground. Midway down I hurled my scythe end over end across the courtyard where it landed, embedded in two soldiers' front to back and into the wall behind them. Making quick work of four more on the ground with just my hands I saw out of the corner of my eye a woman with long curly ruby red hair yank my scythe out of the other men and turned towards me with it hefted in her hands.

I froze, amazed. No one has ever been able to touch Existența răului besides me and live to walk away from it. The woman looked at me coolly and gripped my scythe with one hand, swinging it like one would a battle axe. The Chant grew quieter.

Who is this woman? What is she?

One last shot rang out and the bullet collided with my temple from close range. I noted with grim satisfaction that the woman dropped my precious weapon and promptly threw up, though nothing came out of her. She was gripping her sides, gagging and trembling.

The bullet merely dazed me. I braced myself better and swung around to see who shot me. I ignored the pounding in my temple for my need for information. The head wound would heal given a little time; in fact the other bullet wounds on my body were already gone.

"Who are you people?" I asked in English. What a pity this man could only speak one language.

He seemed more than a little startled that I was still standing and talking while my temple bled sluggishly from his well placed bullet. All the same he put his gun away (very reluctantly) knowing now it would do no good.

"My name is Nick Fury. I'm the Director of SHIELD. It stands for—"

"I know what it stands for." I scowled, "What are you doing here?"

"We keep track of all the high profile cases; you're just at the top of the list right now." His cold hard stair told me he didn't want to be playing question and answer with me at all.

"What happened to Peggy?" Did she think that sending these men after me would work? Had she died?

Why was I concerned for her? She tried to shoot me. But she also was a friend… a friend that just happened to shoot at me once.

"Peggy? Peggy who?" Fury cautiously walked over to the fallen girl, never taking his eyes off me besides to glance at the red head with worry.

"Agent Peggy Carter." He froze. "She was on my case last."

Obviously not wanting to show his shock he continued to try and save one of his last agents alive. "Agent Carter retired back in 1988. She left no records of any ongoing investigations; you'll have to deal with me." By now he was standing next to the woman and talking to her quietly.

Oh joy. A big buff man agent with a stick up his butt. At least Peggy was cute. I was completely calm now. The Chant over with. I still needed my scythe so I walked over where it had been dropped and bent to pick it up not once looking at Fury or the woman. I broke it over my knee and watched with patience as it changed admits the dark shadows swirling around the two pieces in to a dagger and sheath. After sliding the blade home I tucked it into my belt.

I was about to walk away when the woman fully collapsed. So my Existența răului was killing her, just at a slower rate. Fury was nearly frantic now, calling people on his phone and trying to get her to breathe.

"You can't save her." I said offhandedly. "My scythe kills all. Though she is the first to with hold from the immediate death that Existența răului brings."

Fury whipped his head around so fast I heard it crack. "Save her." He demanded.

"I can't." I said dryly. "I only take life, not give it."

"Then get your sister! Save her!" he yelled.

I stiffened. "She is half way around the world right now. As fast as I can travel to her I would not be back in time to save your agent." What was wrong with me? Why was I still here?

He faltered. Fury was surprised that I would consider getting my one true weakness to save someone I did not know. Well that made two of us. I wanted to leave. Wanted to go home… but I couldn't take my eyes off of the shuddering and gasping red head on the ground.

"I am not without a heart, Nick Fury. I do not kill innocents, children or women if it can be avoided. It's not a sexist thing. Without women our race cannot survive. Call it a primal instinct thing, if you will. That agent is both innocent and a woman. I am sorry for her death." And I was. For the first time in my life it felt… guilt for what I was. I was the personification of war, darkness and death itself. And I felt guilty that I could not change.

"Being sorry, doesn't save her." He said harshly.

I snarled. How dare her throw my sincerity back in my face. But he was right. I paced; what to do, what to do? There was not time to get Selina. I could shadow travel but she had to travel by normal means if it meant not attracting attention. Meanwhile the woman was dying. There were others being attended to, others dying… that's it! I looked at one man laying on the ground coughing up blood. It was risky… for me. But I had no choice; I must save the innocent woman.

I walked over to the man. "Would you like to do one more meaningful thing with your life before you die?" He locked eyes with me, the light dimmed slightly in them. "Would you like me to save her?"

A blood bubble popped and he gurgled "Yes…"

"Very well." I nodded to him and walked back to the woman Fury was now attempting to prop up. "What is her name?" I kneeled next to her opposite of Fury. I glared when Fury hesitated. "Well, speak!"

He took a deep breath. "Natasha, Natasha Romanov."

"Russian." I smiled. "Would you like me to save you, Natasha?" Not telling them exactly what I was doing was wrong but it was the only what I could give life. By doing this she was essentially becoming my Chosen, my mate. Oh well, at least she's good looking. She nodded at me not able to speak.

I placed my left hand over her heart and with my right held both of her hands. Then I pulled. I pulled the death out of her. She sagged, able to breathe again. Color flushed her face as I let go of her hands and rose to my feet. Darkness swirled around my hands. A sinister mixture of black, dark red and dull bronze.

"Beautiful." Natasha said looking at my hands. Yes, she would think that now. Now that she had seen Death.

I walked back over to the dying man and kneeled beside him. I hesitated not wanting to bring more pain to someone so… noble. Then I thrust the darkness into him. He cried out, then whet still and silent, peaceful at last.

I got up and walked away making sure that I never once looked back at Agent Natasha Romanov or Nick Fury. I knew if I looked at her then I would have to stay… or worse, take her with me. That would not do. I had to speak to my sister first and foremost right now.

"Where do you think you're going?" Fury called out after me.

"Don't worry about it. Take care of what men you have left, report back to your base and live to fight another day. I'll be seeing you again, Nick Fury… on my own terms." I smiled and disappeared into the shadows.

A/N: Translations! Sorry if they're wrong but I'm using google translate. If you have a better translation feel free to tell me!

(1) Crazy American! Leave, go away! Thief, smuggler, scoundrel!

(2) Hello! Do you want to share my watermelon with me or would you prefer me to kill you now?

(3) So you know a couple of my names. What of it?

(4) Where's the fun in that?

(5) A child playing grown up am I? Let me show you how childish I am.