Another dose of Avengers for you all now. I know I've got quite a few chapters before we even get vaguely close to the main events of Age Of Ultron, but I want to build up this story first and let you actually get to know my OCs.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

I don't own anything, just my OCs.

Breakfast and Battles

The next time Nemesis woke she was sprawled on something soft and squishy, covered in fluffy blankets and snuggling into the cushions. Light was spilling in through large windows, warm and comforting. She stretched, arching her back like a cat and yawning. Nemesis rolled over and promptly fell on a hard, wooden floor with a thump. Frowning, she scrambled to her feet and almost stubbed her toes on an unfamiliar coffee table.

She backed away into the glass windows, starting at the height she was standing at. For a moment Nemesis struggled to place how she had ended up inside a skyscraper, sleeping on a sofa that didn't belong to her or anyone she knew.

Kidnap. Pizza party. Falling asleep whilst watching Doctor Who.

Her mouth gaped open, and Nemesis slid down the window, landing on her bum on the floor. She wasn't wearing her boots, but her brown eyes spotted them just next to the sofa she had been snoozing on. Nemesis put her head in her hands, embarrassed at how she'd managed to look like such an idiot in front of the Avengers. But then again, they had feed her pizza and watched TV with her, as though the Avengers regularly held pizza parties with random vigilantes they'd kidnapped on the streets.

A lift chimed and Nemesis flicked her head up towards the sound. A pair of men walked out, one of them dragging the other by his collar. Neither seemed surprised to see her. Instead, both waved her over to the kitchen area they were headed to. Nemesis shrugged and clambered to her feet, following them into them into the kitchen.

The kitchen looked like a spaceship, with futuristic steel worktops and all sorts of gleaming contraptions and tools. A huge coffee machine sat in one corner, and an industrial-sized oven sat in the other. Tony and Bruce had gone straight for mugs of coffee and tea respectively. Nemesis was tempted to join them. But she was still unsure about her standing here. So, she hung back, shoulders slumped and head ducked.

"You want something, kiddo?" Tony waved a mug in her direction, looking a lot more alive after downing two cups of coffee. "You conked out better quickly, according to Brucie-bear."

Nemesis' eyebrows shot up at the nickname. Bruce seemed more resigned to it than anything and just shrugged in her direction. "Uh … do you guys still need me here, or can I go home? I kinda need to go to class and – " She paled, hands flying to her mouth, "oh sweet Darleks, my best friend doesn't know. Madison is gonna kill me. Twice."

"That's a few, ah … interesting curses you've got there. But we still need to talk to you, Nemesis. At least have breakfast." Bruce gave her a kind smile, gesturing to all the fancy gear. "If you can figure out the kitchen after all. Anyway, do you have class on Sundays?"

"Sunday … Sunday?!" Nemesis half-yelled, eyes flying to the clock. Sure enough, it was dated Sunday at 10:26 a.m. "I've been here over 36 hours! What the actual forking hell?"

"Yeah … you seemed pretty tired so we let you sleep. Tweety-bird and scary-lady might have kidnapped you but we're not heartless. You looked like you needed the sleep, Nemy." Tony settled down a stool, nibbling on a slice of leftover pizza. "Like, I know all about staying up for too long and not sleeping. Your body eventually conks you out. Or one of these idiots come and drag you off to bed, right Brucie?"

Bruce murmurs his assent, concentrating on making poached eggs. Nemesis decided to take a stab at looking for food in the overly complicated kitchen, rooting around cupboards for something to toast. She'd spotted the shiny red and gold toaster when she first walked over. Toast was one of the easy breakfasts, and Nemesis was counting on there being some type of bread in the kitchen. As long as it wasn't too seedy, they'd be alright. Then again, this was the home of a billionaire, there could be anything in here.

"You got any pikelets?" Nemesis asked, turning back to face Bruce and Tony who both wore looks of confusion. "Oh ... right … um … crumpets – you might know them as that. Small, spongy things with lots of holes. Delicious with oodles of butter."

Bruce glanced over his shoulder at her. "Do you mean English muffins?"

Nemesis pulled a face, leaning on the counter towards him. "Those things are abominations and no way English. Trust me, I'm from Yorkshire. I know pikelets – crumpets – and those things are nothing the same. For starters, crumpets taste nice and are all spongy; perfect for covering with way more butter than you thought you needed. Those muffins are completely different and missing the holes. They're a bit more like breakfast muffins, but even then, it's a poor comparison." She sighed, rummaging in one last cupboard and seized a loaf of bread. "Guess I'll stick with toast."

"Passionate, aren't you?" Tony quipped, eyebrows raised.

"Hey! I'm allowed to like my country. You're the ones who turn into a massive patriotic soup of idiots on the 4th of July. I'm nothing compared to you guys. There are no legs for you to stand on." Nemesis waggled a slice of bread at him.

Tony slapped a hand over his heart in a dramatic show of shock and hurt. "How could say such things?!" But then he slipped back to his normal tone. "Don't let Rogers hear you say things like that, he'll have a fit then give you a lecture."

"Just because his superhero name is Captain America doesn't mean he has to be completely patriotic all the time. I wouldn't if this was my country." Silence greeted her words. "Oh, come on. You have a shit healthcare system where the rich can afford and the poor have to choose between food, housing, or medicine. College tuition situation. Housing. Discrimination. There's a lot of problems.

"I'm not saying my country is perfect – far from it in fact. But there's not an awful lot to be proud of when there's still so much further to go. Like, come on. It's 2015. This country needs to wake up soon, and realise it's got to change. Or better yet, the people in charge need to listen to those who already know change needs to happen. Soon."

The pop! of the toaster spooked them all from the silence that had fallen between them. Bruce started eating his eggs, and Nemesis busied about for some butter. She munched on the crunchy slices, sipping at a glass of orange Bruce had poured for her. It seemed an awful lot like any regular breakfast, except for the fact she was eating in one of the most secure buildings in the world with the Hulk and Iron Man. Surreal. That was the only word to describe it.

Nemesis' ears picked up on a faint noise rustling in the direction of the vents. Soon enough, a sandy-haired man popped out acting as though he did that all the time. Nemesis rolled her eyes and continued eating, watching Hawkeye with new interest. The guy crawled around in the vents? These people were definitely crazy.

A few minutes later and the lift pinged again; Black Widow walked out. Natasha Romanoff, Nemesis reminded herself. The red-headed looked immaculate but surprisingly casual in skinny jeans and an Avengers' t-shirt. Nemesis looked down at her own outfit, her vigilante suit which she'd been wearing for the past two nights apparently. Not good. She needed to go home and shower and change. Maybe take a few days off to soak in everything that had happened.

As if she'd get the chance.

"Um … " Nemesis started up, cringing under the weight of everyone's gazes. It had been okay with just two others in the room who were busy, but with everyone now focusing on her, Nemesis was starting to panic a little. "About that proposal. Can I find out about it already? Because I have to go home and shower and change. I've got to tell my best friend that I'm okay and hope she doesn't murder me. Several times."

"I'd have thought you would've figured it out by now, kid. We're seeing if you're any good for the Avengers, of course." Clint spoke up without looking away from his plate. "We just need to get a good scope of your skills and abilities then we're good to make an offer or not."

"What?!"

oOo

Just under an hour later and Astraea was freshly showered and wearing borrowed gym clothes. She suspected they came from Natasha, considering she was the only female on the team. Which, apparently, could change if Astraea was deemed suitable. She wasn't certain if her choice was being taken into account. The Avengers had kidnapped her in the first place, but maybe that was just to make sure she would come. If they'd just asked her on the streets, Astraea would have said no. She wouldn't have felt worthy of being around superheroes, gods, and assassins. But having spent some time with the Avengers, she was feeling a lot more relatable to them. They seemed a lot more like a group of messed-up but incredible people in an unlikely friendship.

So, Astraea was warming up in some kind of training room. There was a large mat for sparring and a pool through a door at the other end. Changing rooms and showers were through another door. All the equipment looked ultra-futuristic under Astraea's untrained eye. Treadmills, bikes, and cross-trainers were all positioned to face the doorway. Several scuff marks littered the walls as though someone had been caught unawares and started shooting. Oddly enough, that didn't surprise Astraea. Not when you considered the people who used this room. She wouldn't want to come unannounced into their presence either. Astraea didn't plan on losing any limbs for silly reasons like that.

Her wide-eyed glances seemed to amuse her fellows, who all shared small grins at the younger person too awed by the room to notice them. Astraea finished her exercises and spun to face the group, ponytail swinging behind her.

"So, what am I supposed to be doing?" Astraea bounced on her toes, eager to exercise after spending too long feeling way too drained to do anything. It seemed her late nights and early mornings had strained her body but a whole day spent catching up on sleep had eased that. Astraea was ready for action again.

"We need to assess your skills. Stamina, speed, flexibility, etc. We'll be using a range of equipment and finishing with a sparring session. This is about seeing just how much you can do, and how much you can't. Start on the sparring mat – I want to see how flexible your body is and any gymnastic or dance skills." Natasha stepped forwards, her voice strictly in trainer mode. It sounded well-used and the kind of tone you didn't cross lightly.

Astraea gulped nervously. This was going to be a long session.

oOo

Two hours had been and gone. Astraea had passed through several gruelling obstacles including an intense obstacle course, cardio tests, and a beep test that remained her of secondary school P.E. lessons. She'd pulled out all her gymnastic skills, drawing on training in her youth and continued practice in the college gyms. There'd been some complex moves, and Astraea could only say her enhanced body, rapid learning, and eidetic memory were the main aids for that. It didn't take too long for her to master a new move and her memory meant she wouldn't forget how to do it. But Astraea didn't consider those her own skills; she was just lucky (or unlucky) to have come into contact with a drug that fixed her mother and enhanced Astraea as a foetus. That wasn't her own effort but pure chance.

Now, having completed all those tasks, Astraea was moving onto the final test. Sparring. She'd had a ten-minute break, but was still feeling incredibly nervous at the prospect of fighting one of the Avengers. Bruce was unlikely to spar given the chance of turning into a green rage monster; Tony was a possibility, but it was more likely to be either Clint or Natasha. The pair were both highly trained assassins and probably capable of killing her with a paperclip in 12 different ways. Each.

She stepped onto the mat, pulling off trainers and socks. Her hair was coming loose from the ponytail, so Astraea fixed it up again, hands shaking in a combination of nerves and anticipation. Whoever stepped up to the mat Astraea would face as well as she could. The spar was likely to end with end with Astraea lying on the mat in ten-seconds flat. Or so she expected.

Flicking her gaze on from where it was focused on the floor, Astraea saw Clint step up to the mat also barefoot. She gulped nervously and settled into a fighting stance.

"Don't suppose you'll go easy on me because I'm a guest?" Astraea tried, gaining a small chuckle from her sparring partner.

"'Fraid not. No going easy here, excluding injured people and Bruce, of course."

"Shame."

Natasha stepped forwards, casting both fighters a stern look. "I want to see everything you've got. No attacks at private areas or eyes, and no weapons. Use any style of fighting you want, though I expect this to be mainly various styles of martial arts." She paused for a moment. "Try not to last less than 30 seconds, kid." She blew a small metal whistle signalling the start of the spar.

Almost immediately Clint was rushing towards her, flicking a leg out to kick her torso. Astraea leapt backwards. Her fists went up and she struck at his side. The blows didn't make contact. She rolled to one side, dodging Clint's hits. Astraea employed her greater strength, tackling Clint to the ground. They rolled over and Clint punched her torso. She stumbled to the side, stomach aching. Clint hit again, catching her side with three powerful hits. Astraea hit the ground.

The others were all watching with neutral faces. Clint was standing over, victorious. Something stirred in Astraea and pushed herself up again. It surprised everyone, including Astraea. She wasn't going down that easily.

She moved quickly, catching Clint in the knee with a well-aimed kick. He grunted. Astraea moved closer. Clint punched her. One hit landed, but Astraea blocked the other. She struck back, pushing him away. He kicked her, and Astraea flipped backwards. As she landed, he charged her and they both hit the mat again. Clint's weight pinned her down, and Astraea struggled to break his hold. Her legs kicked out. Both her hands were caught in Clint's. As she squirmed on the floor, Natasha blew the whistle. The sparring was over.

Clint regained his feet and offered Astraea a hand which she accepted. He was smiling at her.

"Good effort kid. You didn't do badly against a trained agent. You know, for someone untrained," Clint said her.

Astraea frowned. There was a question hidden in there, but she protested his words anyway. "I am trained! Just not to the level that you spy-assassins obviously are. Besides, you're older than me. You've got more experience."

Tony nudged Bruce and wiggled his eyebrows. "Here that. I'm oldest so I must have more experience than everyone else. Excluding Cap. We don't count him."

"Because he's actually only lived however old his biological age is? And not for all the seventy years, he spent as an iced americano," Astraea questioned the billionaire.

"Oh, that's a good nickname, kiddo. Iced Americano. I'm so using that next time I see him." Tony turned to Natasha. "Which will be when?" Natasha just shrugged and gave him a blank look. "Fine. Keep your little spy secrets to yourself Natashalie."

"Can you … could you please stop calling me 'kid' and kiddo'?" Astraea muttered, eyes on the ground. "I do have a name. Also, I'm not a child. I can drink in two years' time."

"Aww … You're going to be the baby out of all us!" Tony crowed excitedly. "I know you have a name, Astraea, but I like nicknames. It's my tower, so my rules."

"Pepper gets 12%, though." Clint gave Tony a significant look. "I don't think she'd be happy with you."

"Eh. She's like 87% of my impulse control, but she's not here. What Pepper don't know can't hurt her."

With that, Tony and Bruce left the gym followed by Natasha and Clint. Astraea stood there for a moment, confused by the whole last part of the conversation. But she soon ran after them, keen not to be left in the building all alone.

Thanks for reading you fabulous people!

I hope y'all had a brilliant Christmas and got everything you wanted.

On another note, your wonderful reviews are like presents to me. Seriously, they make me smile whenever i read them. So, thank you.

Here's wishing you a wonderful new year - may it be better than the last.

Look-for-the-miracles