Authors Notes

Greetings, readers.

This story is going to focus on the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe, including the shows and other media, but from the perspective of the protagonist, feel free to make any suggestions of the stuff you want to see in the story, and if it is reasonable, I will fit it into the story

Also, I Rewrote the previous Chapters, and changed a few things, as I felt it was too similar to another story on the website, I'm now taking a different direction. Please go back and read the chapters before reading this one. I hope you will still enjoy the story

Please feel free to leave a review, as it helps improve the story's quality.

CHAPTER THREE

Duel of Monaco

The days passed steadily, and Dad, true to his word, had begun my training. It was intense from the very start, and it demanded every ounce of my willpower to hold back my full strength. I couldn't risk hurting him, so I forced myself to stay in complete control, even when the instinct to push harder crept up on me.

The lessons began slow and methodical. Dad, standing firm but patient, watched every movement I made with an unyielding eye. He'd correct me, sometimes with a sharp comment and other times with a quick physical adjustment to my stance.

"No, Jon," he said one morning, gripping my elbow and pulling it in. "Keep your stance tighter. You're leaving yourself wide open."

"Like this?" I asked, tightening my stance.

He stepped back, folding his arms and nodding. "Better. Now. Again."

I lost count of how many times he said "again," but it was relentless. Every strike, every block, every movement had to be repeated until my body adjusted and the motions were as natural as breathing. Over time, the basics became instinct, and the pace picked up.

"You're picking this up fast," Dad said one evening, sweat dripping down his brow. "You should've started training years ago."

I smiled faintly, brushing sweat from my own face. "Guess I didn't have a reason to back then."

"Well, it seems you've got one now. Don't lose that drive," he replied, clapping me on the shoulder. His training style was tough—brutal, even—but it was exactly what I needed. My body, now awakened to its potential, thrived on the intensity.

For two hours every morning and two in the evening, we trained relentlessly. By the end of the first week, I wasn't just learning—I was improving. My punches and kicks felt more natural, my movements flowed smoother, and I started to feel like I could actually hold my own in a fight. Of course, I was still nowhere near Dad's skill level.

Meanwhile, school was uneventful. Most of the students gave me a wide berth, their whispers trailing behind me in the hallways. It didn't bother me much; in fact, the solitude suited me. But I couldn't help missing Penny and the easy way she used to chatter on about anything and everything.

Then, as if fate had read my mind, Penny approached my lunch table one day. I glanced up from my tray to see her standing there, her expression conflicted. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

"Hey, Jon," she said finally, her voice uncertain.

I swallowed the bite of food I'd just taken. "Hey, Penny."

Her face was a storm of emotions—guilt, frustration, and something close to shame. Just as I was about to ask her what was wrong, she blurted out, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jon. You were right about him, I should've listened to you, and I should've believed you. Clint's a big jerk—no, he's an asshole! I don't know what I ever saw in him when I dated him."

I blinked, stunned by her sudden outburst. "What happened, Penny?"

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Last night, I asked him about what happened with you in the bathroom, and if it was true that he was bullying you. He completely lost it. We got into a huge fight, and he called me a know-it-all bitch for even bringing it up. He said I shouldn't waste my time worrying about 'the low-life scum' of the school."

Hearing that made my blood boil. My fists clenched involuntarily, and I had to take a deep breath to keep my temper in check. Clint. Of course, the senator's son. He walked around like he was untouchable, as if everyone else was beneath him. But at the end of the day, he was just a scared little boy with daddy issues.

Before I realized what I was doing, I stood up and pulled Penny into a hug. "It's okay, I forgive you," I said softly. "Everything's going to be alright, Penny."

She hugged me back tightly. "Thank you for forgiving me, Jon. I was so stupid. I should've known better."

"Hey," I said, pulling back slightly so I could look her in the eyes. "It wasn't your fault, and I couldn't stay mad at you. Besides…" I grinned. "I really want to go to Monaco, and you're my only ride."

She laughed, playfully punching me in the ribs. "You asshole!"

I chuckled, rubbing my side. "You know you love me for it."

Penny stuck her tongue out at me, but the smile on her face was genuine. For the first time in days, everything felt right again. My best friend was back, and the world seemed just a little brighter.

That night, like every night, I snuck out after everyone had gone to bed. I did a few laps around the city, trying to push my flight speed to its absolute limits. Afterwards I flew off to my next destination. The train yard had become my personal gym, and I was determined to push myself further. Lifting train cars had become routine, like doing reps at the gym. While the results weren't immediately visible, I could feel my strength increasing little by little.

As I hovered above the yard, preparing to lift another carriage, I calculated. At this rate, I'd be able to add an extra five tons to my max in a few months. "I just have to keep pushing," I thought. With every rep, every lift, I was getting stronger. And I wouldn't stop until I was ready for whatever came next.

Penny, as determined as ever, somehow managed to convince my parents to let me go with her and her dad to Monaco for the Grand Prix. To this day, I have no idea how she pulled it off. My parents weren't exactly the easiest people to sway when it came to letting me travel, let alone on a trip like this.

The evening before we left, my mom sat me down while Dad was out. Her face was serious, which immediately made me uneasy.

"Hey Jon, please sit down." she began, "we need to talk, about you and Penny, on this trip."

I groaned inwardly. The Talk. Oh no.

"Whoa mom, no. Please, no, it's not like that." I pleaded, holding up my hands.

She wasn't having it. "You're going to Monaco with a girl, Jon, a beautiful one at that." she said, her tone steady. "I just want to make sure you are going to be safe; you are too young to be a father."

My face flushed with embarrassment. "Mom! It's not even like that. Penny's—she's cute, sure, but she's like a sister to me!"

Her eyebrow quirked, and the smallest hint of a smirk appeared on her face. "Uh-huh. Riiight. Okay, honey, if you say so. But remember, be safe."

I groaned again, burying my face in my hands. "Mom, I'm telling you, it's not like that, but yeah, I'll be safe."

She chuckled softly and let it drop, shifting the conversation to lighter topics. We talked about random things for a while before I excused myself to go work on my car, grateful to escape the embarrassment.

The day of the trip came quickly. After going through my morning rituals, I packed my bags, double-checked everything, and waited for Penny to arrive. Half an hour later, she pulled up in her car, her energy as vibrant as ever. After saying goodbye to my parents, I threw my bags into the frunk, and we were off.

The airport was nothing like I expected. Instead of the usual terminals and chaos, Penny drove us straight through security, and after our papers had been checked, she drove to a private hangar. Sitting there, sleek and gleaming under the sun, was a Learjet.

"Wow," I muttered, stepping out of the car and staring at the jet.

Penny's father, Mr. Burns, stood nearby, casually checking his watch. He was the very picture of a successful businessman—sharp suit, calm demeanor, and an air of effortless authority. Penny skipped over to him and hugged him.

"Hello, Daddy! We're ready to leave," she said cheerfully.

He smiled at her, then turned to me. His eyes were sharp, assessing. I stepped forward and offered my hand. "Mr. Burns, it's nice to meet you, sir."

He took my hand, his grip firm. "You too, that's a strong handshake, young man, are you a fighter?" he said with a nod of approval.

"Thank you, sir, yes, I train at home," I replied.

With that, he motioned for the attendants to grab our luggage, and we made our way onto the jet. I'd never been on a plane before—not officially, anyway. Sure, I had memories of flying in this world, but this was my first real experience.

As the jet took off, I was glued to the window, watching the ground fall away. Penny and I sipped on Diet Coke while Mr. Burns enjoyed a glass of champagne.

"You know, Jonathan," he began, glancing at me, "Penny brags about you quite a bit. Says you're a certified genius, smartest person she's ever seen."

Penny's face turned bright red. "Dad! I do not!" she protested, flustered.

I chuckled, deciding to save her. "I'm not bad, sir, but I wouldn't say I'm a genius, I just do my best."

He smiled knowingly. "Modest. I like that," he said, swirling his champagne. "You don't brag about your abilities, even though you know you are capable, such an attitude will get you far in life. Now, a genius mind needs the right company to thrive, such as you and my Penny. When we get to Monaco, I'll have to introduce you to some of my acquaintances. I'm sure you will find some of them interesting indeed, especially people like Reed Richards, Norman Osborn and Tony Stark, rich geniuses you two could learn from."

My heart skipped a beat. I nodded, trying to keep my excitement in check. "That would be… incredible, sir, I can't wait."

Inside, though, I was practically vibrating. Tony Stark and Reed Richards? Sure, Osborn probably wouldn't give me the time of day, but Reed Richards, and Tony Stark? The men were friendly in the comics, and I hoped the same applied here too.

The flight lasted about eight hours, and by the time we arrived in Monaco, I was feeling a mix of exhaustion and excitement. We boarded the Burns family yacht, which was practically a floating mansion. The view of the racetrack from the deck was breathtaking.

As we lounged on the deck, soaking up the late afternoon sun, Penny explained the plan. "Tomorrow, we'll be in one of the VIP lounges. Dad likes to use events like this to seal business deals, so he's probably going to leave us on our own."

I nodded, my mind still blown by everything. "Well, as long as we get to enjoy the race, I'm good." In all honesty, I did not care about the race, I was excited that I'd get to see the Iron Man himself in action. Not some CGI, but the real deal

She smirked. "Yeah, I hear you, I just want to go to the after parties, they are really nice."

The next morning, I went through my morning rituals, then I dressed in my Tuxedo, while Penny wore a stunning dress. Together with Mr. Burns, we headed down to the VIP lounge. The place was packed with the rich and famous. I spotted Elon Musk, Justin Hammer, and even a few popular celebrities.

Mr. Burns led us through the crowd, introducing us to his associates—stockbrokers, CEOs, and other bigwigs. I even got to shake hands with Elon Musk, who turned out to be surprisingly down-to-earth.

At one point, Mr. Burns approached Tony Stark, who was flanked by two women I immediately recognized: Pepper Potts and Natasha Romanoff, the black widow, who was posing as Natasha Rushman. I stared at Natasha for a moment, still not fully used to seeing Scarlett Johansson's face in this universe. All the characters looked like their real-life actors and actresses. It was surreal, to say the least. But as confusing as it was, it was undeniably cool.

Tony looked distracted, barely sparing us a glance. "Hey, Burns, good seeing you here buddy, Listen, this is Pepper, she's now in charge of Stark Industries" he said quickly, motioning to a clearly uncomfortable Pepper. "Now, if you will excuse me, I've got to go."

With that, he walked off, leaving Pepper flustered.

"Rude," Penny muttered under her breath.

I chuckled. "He's probably got a lot on his plate. Cut him some slack." In truth, I knew what Tony was going through, from the movies, I would be distracted if I thought I would be dying too.

Penny rolled her eyes but didn't argue.

Mr. Burns began a conversation with Pepper while Penny and I listened. Everything seemed to be going well until a news announcement on the TV caught everyone's attention.

"Breaking news," the announcer said. "Tony Stark will be racing his own car in today's Grand Prix race."

The room erupted in shock. I turned to Penny, grinning. "See? What did I tell you?"

Pepper looked like she was about to have a meltdown. She quickly excused herself, heading over to Natasha.

The lounge buzzed with excitement as the Grand Prix roared on, but my mind wasn't on the race or the drivers. My eyes scanned the track relentlessly, searching. I knew what was coming. Ivan Vanko, Whiplash, was here somewhere, and I was about to witness Iron Man in action. My heart raced with anticipation. In the movies, this attack didn't result in any fatalities—it was thrilling, cinematic. But this wasn't the movies.

The race went on, and I kept my eyes on the stands, looking for one person, then I saw him. Vanko emerged, walking towards the track, in a track technician jacket, which he then took off, revealing his crude yet menacing Whiplash armor, stepping onto the track like a harbinger of chaos. At first, my excitement peaked. This was it—the moment I'd waited for.

That excitement quickly turned to dread and shock.

With a snap of his electrified whips, Vanko sliced through a race car with horrifying precision. Sparks and flames erupted as the car split in two, but the worst part was the driver. The whip didn't just slice the car—it cut through the driver as well cauterizing him as it sliced through him.

The lounge erupted in screams. The air, previously filled with cheers, turned into a cacophony of horror and panic. My stomach churned. "What the fuck?" I thought, frozen in shock. This never happened in the movies. My chest tightened as I watched Vanko lash out again, slicing another driver, sending pieces of the car—and the driver—flying across the track. Fires raged. The stench of burning fuel and death filled the air.

This wasn't the safe, Kid friendly world of the MCU. This was real, raw, and people were dying in front of me.

For a moment, I stood paralyzed, the weight of what I was seeing crushing me. I couldn't just watch. I couldn't let more people die because of Vanko's grudge match. I remembered a saying from the spiderman movies, uncle Ben's words echoed in my mind: With great power comes great responsibility.

Resolve surged through me. I couldn't let this madness continue. I had the power to do something, and I would.

Without a word, I slipped away from Penny and her father, weaving through the panicked crowd. Past a gift shop, I grabbed a Grand Prix hoodie and a bandanna. I rushed into a restroom, yanked off my tuxedo jacket, and stuffed it into a stall. Pulling on the hoodie and tying the bandanna around my face, I made sure my identity was hidden. My heart pounded, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I bolted out.

Reaching the edge of the chaos, I took to the air. Flying felt like freedom and responsibility all at once. I pushed myself harder, faster, zeroing in on the battlefield that the racetrack had become.

When I arrived, Vanko was standing over Tony Stark, who was still out of his Iron Man armor. Stark clutched a jagged piece of his car, using it to fend off Vanko's relentless attacks.

Without hesitation, I flew in and drop-kicked Vanko. The force sent him flying across the track, crashing into a burning car. The impact left him momentarily stunned.

I landed beside Stark, towering over him. Deepening my voice to mask my identity, I said, "Get out of here. I got this."

Before he could respond, I caught sight of a Rolls Royce speeding toward us. Not waiting for an answer, I turned and flew straight toward Vanko, determination burning in my chest.

I came in fast, aiming to end this with a Superman punch, but Vanko was faster than I'd anticipated. He dodged at the last second, and his whip lashed out, wrapping around my neck. The electric current surged through me, sending searing pain through my body as he yanked me to the ground.

I hit the track hard, my vision blurring for a moment. Shaking my head, I forced myself to stand, ignoring the lingering pain. Vanko smirked; his face bloodied but defiant. He was enhanced by his exoskeleton, and that crude armor was giving him both power and some minor protection. I couldn't go all out—I didn't want to kill him. But I had to disable him, and fast.

Focusing on the glowing arc reactor on his chest, I knew what I needed to do.

This time, I came at him low and fast, zigzagging to avoid his whips. He lashed out, but I dodged each strike, closing the distance. At the last second, I swept his legs out from under him and grabbed him mid-fall. Using all my strength, I slammed him into the barricade. The force of the impact left him stunned, coughing up blood.

Without wasting a second, I grabbed the arc reactor and ripped it from his chest. The glow dimmed instantly, and Vanko collapsed, his suit disabled.

Breathing heavily, I turned to see Tony Stark now in full Iron Man armor. I cursed under my breath—I'd missed the suit-up scene. Pepper Potts climbed out of the Rolls Royce and ran to Tony, her voice sharp with concern.

"ARE YOU CRAZY! What were you thinking?" she yelled. "You should've stayed inside!"

Tony, seemingly unfazed, Calmed her down, then brushed her off, his focus now on me.

I held up the arc reactor, examining it for a brief moment. Part of me wanted to keep it, to study it. But I knew better. Last thing I needed was to have the government hounding me over this. Tossing it to Stark, I said in my masked voice, "Good luck explaining this one to the Government."

Tony caught it easily, chuckling. "Oh, I'm sure everyone's going to be focused on more pressing issues. Thanks for the assist, by the way."

Assist? This guy. I shook my head, deciding not to engage. Instead, I turned to take in the scene around me. The track was a nightmare—flaming wreckage, scattered debris, and the faint smell of charred bodies in the air. Emergency services rushed onto the scene, pulling survivors from the chaos. Security forces swarmed in, hauling Vanko away in restraints.

The crowd erupted in cheers, their adrenaline masking the tragedy that had unfolded. But I didn't feel like a hero. People had died, and they were cheering.

The weight of it all became too much. Without another word, I launched into the sky, flying away from the noise, the chaos, and the cheering. Up above the clouds, away from everyone, I let the emotions crash over me. Hero or not, I couldn't save everyone. And that realization was heavier than anything I'd faced.

Derick's POV

The day had been perfect—a romantic outing with Rose, just the two of us enjoying time alone while Jonathan was off in Monaco with Penny. We'd come back home, home alone at last, and I was ready to make the most of the quiet evening. But fate, as always, had its own plans.

"HONEY!" Rose's voice, sharp and panicked, cut through the house as I was preparing the bedroom with romantic candles.

I bolted toward the living room, heart racing, and found her standing in front of the TV. She was frozen in place, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Rose? What happened?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

She didn't answer, just pointed at the television. I turned to see what had her so distraught, and my stomach dropped.

The live news feed showed utter chaos in Monaco. A man wearing a crude looking exoskeleton equipped with glowing, electrified whips was wreaking havoc on the racetrack. Cars exploded into flames as he sliced through them with terrifying precision. The scene was a nightmare—a storm of fire, screaming metal, and panic.

A chill ran down my spine. Jonathan. My son. He was in Monaco. With Penny.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, my chest tightening as the realization hit me. Jonathan could be right there, caught in the middle of this attack, inches from death.

Rose let out a small, broken sob beside me. Her eyes were glued to the screen, her hands trembling.

"Do you think…?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I didn't let her finish. "No," I said, more firmly than I felt. "He's a smart boy, he'll be okay. He has to be."

The footage cut to the attacker approaching Tony Stark. The billionaire was clearly without his armor, backing away and trying to defend himself with a piece of debris. My heart sank further. This was bad, really bad, how did he get that through security. And as for Tony Stark, was this it? Was the so-called billionaire playboy and invincible Iron Man, about to die live on TV?

And then it happened—a blur shot across the screen, slamming into the attacker and sending him flying across the track. The camera zoomed in, revealing the figure responsible: a man of average height, dressed in a black hoodie with his face obscured by a bandanna.

"What the hell…?" I started, leaning closer to the screen.

The hooded man walked over to Stark, who was now getting to his feet. They appeared to exchange words, though the feed didn't pick up the audio. A Rolls Royce entered the frame, stopping near Stark, but the hooded figure paid it no mind. Instead, he dropped into a martial arts stance.

My breath caught in my throat. I knew that stance.

"That's impossible," I whispered, the words tumbling out without thought.

Rose gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh my God…"

The stance was unmistakable. It was the one I'd created; a modified fighting style I'd taught him myself. No one else could replicate it.

But how? Since when did my son have superpowers?

As I watched him engage the attacker, it became clear that Jonathan wasn't accustomed to fighting someone like this, using his powers. His movements in the air were unrefined, his strategy lacking. Even Tony Stark, with his limited combat training, would've fought more effectively in this situation.

"Rose…" I said softly, glancing at her. She didn't respond, her mouth agape as she stared at the screen.

"Since when?" she finally whispered, her voice trembling. "Since when could he do that?"

Her words came out louder now, more frantic, as if she couldn't contain her emotions.

I turned to her and said quietly, "You recognized him too, huh?"

"Of course I did!" she snapped, tears spilling again. "I gave birth to him! I raised him! Did he really think a hoodie would fool me, his mother? I would recognize him from anywhere."

I shrugged, She had a point.

Rose fixed me with a glare, her voice growing more accusatory. "You two have been training everyday, did you know about this?"

I shook my head emphatically. "No. I'm just as shocked as you are. The powers… This is new, Rose. Look at him—he's still clumsy. He can't have had them for more than a few weeks, He's figuring it out as he goes."

She seemed to consider this, her anger shifting to worry. "You think so? You know that means he's been holding back during your training sessions, right?"

The thought struck me like a lightning bolt. She was right. Jonathan had never seemed winded, no matter how hard I pushed him. Could he have been hiding his abilities this entire time? What other secrets has he been keeping from us?

Rose's voice broke into my thoughts. "What are we going to do about this?"

I exhaled, trying to calm the storm in my chest. "First, we talk to him. We have to hear it from him directly, then we figure out what to do afterwards."

She nodded, but her face twisted with fresh anxiety. "Honey, promise me something."

"What?"

Her voice cracked as she said, "Don't get SHIELD involved. After last time, I can't… I can't bear to lose another child."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Lora. Our daughter. Her death was still a fresh wound, and I knew Rose couldn't handle another loss.

I reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I promise," I said firmly.

Her expression softened, and she wiped her tears. Then, with a sudden resolve, she picked up the phone.

"Who are you calling?" I asked.

"Penny's father," she replied, her tone sharp. "I want Jonathan back here tomorrow. Then we're having a family talk."

I nodded, feeling the weight of the coming conversation settle on my shoulders. Tomorrow as going to be interesting indeed.

Maria's POV

The Triskelion buzzed with activity, its halls alive with agents exchanging updates and hurried footsteps echoing down the corridors. The Monaco incident had caused an uproar, both in the Senate and within SHIELD. The fallout was intense, with politicians clamoring harder than ever to strip Tony Stark of his armor while Stark's army of lawyers pushed back with equal force. But none of that was what occupied my mind.

What truly demanded attention was the footage of the Monaco fight. An unknown enhanced individual had emerged—someone who had fought with power that couldn't be ignored. The tech division had worked overtime, piecing together scraps of footage to compile a profile on this mysterious figure. The result had been nothing short of astonishing.

With the evidence in hand, I made my way to Director Fury's office. The top floor of the Triskelion offered a commanding view of Washington, D.C., but Fury sat with his back to it, reviewing reports on a tablet. As I stepped inside, he didn't look up, his voice calm yet authoritative.

"What have you got for me, Agent Hill?"

I stood straight, clutching the folder tightly. "Sir, we finally have an ID on the enhanced individual from the Monaco incident."

Fury gave a slight nod, signaling for me to continue, still not meeting my eyes.

"The individual, as you know, was heavily disguised, wearing a hoodie and a bandanna to obscure his face. However, the tech department was able to recover and piece together footage from New York that led to a breakthrough." I took a deep breath before continuing. "We discovered an individual—seventeen years old—who was caught on a parking lot security camera lifting cars and a semi-truck… while flying."

That made Fury look up, his one good eye narrowing slightly.

"While the footage didn't initially give us a clear view of his face, another camera managed to capture an image of him as he flew by. That gave us enough to run facial recognition, and we identified him."

I placed the folder on Fury's desk, flipping it open to reveal the profile photo. "His name is Jonathan Miller. Born February 21, 1993, in Philadelphia. He's currently a high school student. His mother is Dr. Rose Miller, a renowned surgeon working in New York, and his father is Agent Derick Miller, one of our own, New York division, with Level 7 clearance. He's a former Navy SEAL with an impressive mission success rate."

Fury's gaze lingered on the photo before he asked, "What else do we know about this boy? I want everything—psych evals, disciplinary records, any history that raises a red flag. What kind of person are we dealing with here?"

I nodded, flipping through the dossier. "Sir, according to our findings, Jonathan is a model citizen. He's academically gifted, has no criminal record, and maintains a small, tight-knit circle of friends. The only notable incident occurred a few weeks ago, when he intervened during a bullying incident. He broke one of the bullies' shoulders and another's hand."

Fury raised an eyebrow at that.

"It was self-defense," I clarified, "and the bullies were reportedly targeting a younger student. Besides that, there's nothing else on him. Overall, the kid is…" I hesitated for a moment. "… close to perfect."

Fury leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. "Keep digging. People with powers like this don't just pop out of nowhere. Something might come up. Until then, keep this quiet. Scrub any evidence of the kid's powers from public records and ensure his activities stay off the radar. I also want him under surveillance—quietly. Don't alert the parents."

I nodded, making a mental note. "Understood, sir."

As I turned to leave, a thought struck me. I turned back to face him. "Sir, are we considering him for the Avengers Initiative?"

Fury's gaze sharpened as he replied, "No, not yet. We're not putting him anywhere near the Initiative until we're sure he's not a threat to Earth. Powers or not, he's still a seventeen-year-old kid. Until he's an adult—and until we're confident in where his loyalties lie—he's off the table."

"Understood, sir," I replied, excusing myself.

Walking back to my office, I found my thoughts circling the photo of Jonathan Miller. He was a good-looking kid, but his eyes were what caught my attention. There was something familiar in them—something that reminded me of his late sister, Lorraine Miller.

Lora.

Her memory hit me like a cold wind. I'd worked with her team on several missions, and they'd been one of the best spec-ops units SHIELD had ever fielded. Lorraine and I had begun to grow close, but it had all been ripped away when her squad walked into an ambush. The aftermath was so brutal we couldn't even identify the bodies.

Settling into my chair, I picked up the phone and dialed.

"This is Coulson," a familiar voice answered on the other end.

"I need a surveillance package," I said, my voice firm. "On one of our own."

There was a brief pause before Coulson asked, "What for?"

"Possible recruitment for the Avengers Initiative," I replied, though I knew the full truth wasn't so simple.

Another pause, then, "Consider it done. Anything else?"

"No, that's all. Thanks."

Hanging up, I stared at Jonathan's photo again. His resemblance to Lorraine was uncanny, and I couldn't help but wonder—could he be as skilled and brave as she was? Could he live up to his father's and sister's legacies?

If so, With his powers, and their skills, Jonathan Miller could become an asset for SHIELD and the world.