Vanessa Krowd
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It was the night of the new moon. It was also late into the night. Two signs that the young girl walking home from the end of her shift should have taken her friend's offer to
take her home. But she hadn't wanted to give him any false hope that she was interested in him, so she had declined. She should have known better.
The streets were dark due to the broken lights lining the sidewalks. Few cars passed by and even fewer people were out. So when the girl passed to close to a seemingly
empty and was pulled into the shadow by a large hand, no one noticed the change.
Another hand clapped over her mouth as she made to scream. She couldn't tear away from the grip and, as she felt the cold touch of metal under her chin, she began to go
still in dread. Hot breath ghosted over her neck as the man lowered his head to whisper in her ear.
"I'm gonna take my hand away but if you scream, I'll kill you. Do you understand?"
She nodded her head, tears beginning to run down her face. He pushed her against the brick wall roughly, his hand falling from her face to pull a dark rag from his pocket.
Hiccupping sobs escaped her throat as she began to realize there was no escape. A hand snapped across the side of her face and she fell silent. The man stuffed the rag into
her mouth and grinned crookedly. She shivered in disgust as his fingers closed around the waistband of her jeans. It was over. And she knew it. But both froze at the sound of
a voice.
"Ray Irving. Adding another notch to your belt, are you?"
The man, Irving, looked over his shoulder and the girl caught a glimpse of the voice's source.
Leaning against the wall opposite of them, stood a woman roughly five and a half feet. She was relatively slender and hardly imposing in her black hooded jacket and formfitting
pants. A few dark waves fell from her hood and only her lips and half of her nose were visible. And yet, despite the almost fragile look to her, there was something off.
Something about the woman radiated with power.
"How do you know my name?"
The mystery woman straightened up, pulling what looked like a file from a pocket inside her jacket, "I've been chasing you for a few weeks now, Ray. You certainly know how
to disappear."
"The hell are you talking about?"
"Twenty-seven cases of rape, all linked to a man with the same eagle-handled knife and a funny scar on his hip. You've evaded the police for so long, they've almost given up
hope. A shame they didn't notice the pattern."
Irving's eyes narrowed on the woman, "Clever girl. But still stupid enough to think you could change anything."
"You'd be surprised. I'm not at all like you," the woman said with a smirk, replacing the file with a pair of handcuffs. "Now. I'll give you a choice. You can either let this woman
go and cuff yourself or you can try to fight me and thoroughly humiliate yourself."
She tossed the cuffs at Irving and he watched them in amusement before returning his attention to the woman. Pushing his victim aside, he charged at the lithe woman and
raised his knife. Before he could come within three feet of her, he suddenly stumbled and glanced down at the pavement. It was as if the asphalt had converted to liquid,
encasing his legs up to his mid-calf.
She approached him quickly, kicking him hard in the mouth with the black army-standard combat boots she wore. He swiped at her with his knife, but her hand closed around
the blade as it was as sharp as a letter opener. The metal turned red and the man screamed as it burned his skin, letting go of the handle. The blade itself melted in her hand,
the handle falling to the floor with a resounding clatter.
As he struggled to escape the liquid asphalt he was trapped in, the woman walked over to the discarded handcuffs and back to stand before him. Irving struck her hard across
the cheek as she kneeled before him. The woman hardly flinched and the man pulled his now bloodied and broken hand back with a sharp yell.
She grabbed his wrist roughly and cuffed his hands together. With an angered snarl, she yanked him out of the asphalt and over to the fire escape. Irving's victim, who had
been too scared to move, watched in awe as the woman's hand, and the chain on the handcuffs, slid through the metal pipe on the fire escape's ladder. She gave him one
final punch, something looking suspiciously like a tooth falling to the floor, before returning her attention to girl cowering against the opposite wall.
The woman approached her slowly, hands raised as if to show that she was unarmed. She kneeled in front of the girl, taking hold of her shoulders gently.
"Did he hurt you?"
Suddenly, hysteria flooded the girl's mind and she began to stutter out her thoughts.
"I didn't see him – what did you do…? I can't believe – oh, God."
"Are you hurt?"
"You're not human!"
"Do you wanna go out for drinks?"
Stunned by the sudden strange question, the girl stopped short, "What?"
"Are. You. Alright?" she asked, enunciating each word carefully.
Slowly, the girl nodded in answer.
"Do you have a phone on you?"
The girl's eyes darted towards her discarded purse laying a few feet away. Nodding in understanding, the woman helped her to her feet before retrieving the handbag.
"Good. Call the police and let them know where you are," she commanded, thrusting the bag into the girl's arms.
The girl dug through her purse shakily, pulling her phone out. She never took her eyes off the woman, watching as she stuffed the files she had held earlier into Irving's leather
jacket. He flinched away from her but she didn't acknowledge the movement. A second later, she pulled what looked like a tarot card out of her pocket and dropped it at his
feet.
The girl gazed at the woman in wonder, "Who are you?"
Though the woman looked up, half of her face was still obscured, "Like you said: not human."
The girl watched as the woman walked out of the alley without another word, her hands stuffed into her pockets. Curiosity getting the better of her, she glanced over at the
card left at Irving's feet. It looked hand-painted, a woman holding a book in one hand and a beaker in the other dominated the surface. A red ribbon was painted onto the
bottom of the card, curling gold lettering written across the scarlet. From where she stood, the girl could just barely make them out.
Steve winced as jagged cement dug into his back. The blue-skinned humanoid leapt closer, his green and sliver armor glinting in the sun. A high-pitched screeching came from
its mouth and the ex-soldier fought the urge to wince at the sound. Lunging for his shield, Steve launched the disc towards the alien. Its knees buckled as part of the
vibranium embedded itself into the beast's neck. Steve wrinkled his nose as he pulled it from the alien's throat, studiously ignoring the voices he could hear through his
earpiece.
Ever since Freyja had left Earth just after her battle with Thanos, all sorts of hostile aliens had been making their way to the planet. From shape-shifters taking the places of
several authority figures to these blue-skinned goliaths, they flocked to Earth like moths to a flame. Worse still was the fact that no messages could get through to Asgard.
Freyja had sent a message through some sort of magic that something problematic was occurring, but hadn't elaborated. The message was still burned into the walls of Stark
Tower, much to Tony's irritation.
The fact still stood that the
y were on their own with the rising extraterrestrial problems. Gazing around him at the carnage being made, Steve gave a sharp inhale as he was
blindsided. Something cold and sharp tore through his skin at the base of his skull deep enough to draw blood. He spun on the balls of his feet, head spinning more at the
sudden movement, and slammed the shield into the creature's face.
They were faster than most humans. Stronger, too. They're movements were smooth and precise as if born, bred, and raised to be warriors. Even with the super serum, he
could barely keep up. It took a good deal of effort just to keep the aliens at bay. But it wasn't enough. Something bit into his waist and another sharp pain shot through his
left calf as two different blades carved their way through his flesh. Through the earpiece, the words of his companions suddenly caught his attention.
"Stark, was that you?" Clint's voice asked.
"Nope. Opposite side of the city, remember?" the billionaire replied. "You threatened to report my unfiled paperwork to Fury if I didn't follow orders."
"Was it Bruce?" Natasha inquired.
"Too small," the archer returned. "It's going your way."
"I see it. Do you think-"
"Probably. You know her pattern."
"What are you going on about?" Stark demanded, sounding almost exasperated.
"Classified, Sta-"
"What the hell is that?"
"Steve, are you hearing this?"
Steve grimaced as he just narrowly dodged a swinging sword, "Kind of hard not to, Natasha."
"Well, she's heading in your direction. Keep on your toes. We don't know if she's an ally or enemy yet."
Steve frowned at the sentence, bringing his shield up to block another blow, "I'm a bit preoccupied for that."
A sharp cry left his lips as something hard collided with his stomach, sending him flying backwards once more. He was just vaguely aware of more of the blue extraterrestrials
closing in. It was when he was picking himself off the floor, tensing for another attack, when he saw just what the others had been talking about.
She landed between him and the aliens, the concrete beneath her feet cracking slightly. He couldn't see her face, but could still make out the petite figure beneath the black,
hooded jacket and pants. She didn't seem like anything Natasha and Clint would usually worry about, but his confusion disappeared when she raised a hand towards the
creatures. There was the sound of a small explosion as a wall of flames rose between her and the line of beasts.
Steve shielded his face with a hand as a blast of heat flew backwards towards them. When she turned to face him, he found he couldn't see more than her lips and the tip of
her nose.
"Need a hand, Captain?" she asked, offering out her own.
With only a second's hesitation, Steve took it and stood up. Even less could be seen of her face as he towered a good four inches over her, but she didn't look up to meet his
eyes. Her hood remained curved over most of her face. She waved her hand and the flames before them dissipated.
"Watch my back, will you?"
Before he could reply, she leapt over the lowering flames and into the now crowded group of aliens. He watched for a few seconds in awe as the very air around her
shimmered, the view reminiscent of the desert sky. Blades melted around her before they could touch her skin. In anger, one of the creatures lashed out at her. But she
caught its hand in a tight grip. The rest of the creatures backed away with surprised hissing while the one she held shrieked in pain as keloids and chemical burns began
forming across his extended arm.
"Any time now, Captain," she said as she let go of the beast and drew his face into her knee.
Snapped back into reality, Steve rushed into the fray created as the aliens converged upon the woman. Fist and shield swinging, he attempted to fight his way through to the
woman. Powers or not, she couldn't possibly hold off so many of these creatures. He exclaimed in surprise as the floor seemed to melt beneath his feet once he had gotten
within four feet of her. He sunk down until he was up to his knees in melted concrete. Trying to move closer, he felt as if he was wading through quicksand.
It was more difficult to attack and defend himself in the liquid, but the aliens were apparently having the same difficulties. Swords flew towards him in precise arcs, but the movements were hindered and he easily blocked them. When he could see the woman again, he realized only the ground around her had remained solid, a few of the aliens
vying for room to stand on the little island of pavement.
She fought without style or form, relying merely on instinct and speed as she dodged the falling blades and dealt blows of her own. One hand fell upon an alien's helmet,
causing it to screech as it was suddenly crushed beneath the rapidly falling metal. He pulled himself out of the mire as he approached the edge, slamming his shield into the
head of another alien. She turned to face him, nodding in thanks before she continued fighting.
Steve lost sight of all she was doing, too preoccupied by the steady motions he moved in while fighting. It was almost as if he was back in World War II…if the Nazis had been
blue, anyway. Black blood splattered across his suit, barely staining the now all-navy outfit. He grimaced at the substance, punching another one hard enough to break bone.
"Duck!" the woman suddenly yelled.
Instinctively, Steve dropped to the floor, shield held over his head to take the brunt of whatever was approaching. Instead of a blow, he saw the woman hold her hands before
her as if holding something round. A spark ignited between her hands before growing into a strange, writhing substance that glowed bright in midair. She grit her teeth and
allowed the energy to be released. It seemed to explode, red light bursting out around her.
Not expecting the force that came with the wave of light, Steve tumbled backwards and across the once-again solid ground. He just barely caught a glimpse of the woman
being tossed backwards by the explosion, as well. Remembering his trained, he rolled into a crouch and sprung to his feet the second he was able. Shocked cries, pained
exclamations, and angry yells erupted from behind him as he grappled with the few aliens still standing.
Slamming one hard into the wall behind it, there was the sickening crunch of bones breaking. He turned to face the last one before him, pushing the button on his earpiece just
before he attacked.
"How's everyone holding up?"
"And now Mr. Preoccupied wants to start up a conversation," Tony snapped, the sound of metal on metal in the background.
"We're fine," Natasha answered. "Is the woman still with you?"
"Yes," he answered, glancing over as she turned one of her attackers into a pile of dust.
"Good. Try to keep her there, will you?" Clint asked. "We're almost done here."
"I'll do my best," he offered, breaking the nose of the alien before him.
There was silence as each of them returned to the fight. As he leapt away from a blow, Steve noticed the woman had doubled over slightly, her hand wrapped tightly across
her torso. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line as if fighting back pain. Slamming his shield into the alien's head, unsure of whether it collapsed from death or
unconsciousness, he threw it like a discus at the creature slowly approaching the woman.
It lodged into the beast's lower back with a squelch loud enough to make a weaker man sick and the creature fell to the floor with a crash. There was an instant where both
he and she simply stared down at the creature with a mixture of relief and shock on their faces.
He suddenly straightened up, the realization that the last remaining extraterrestrial had fallen brought him back to his senses. His breath was coming in long, labored pant
s and
he felt the weariness that came once the last of the adrenaline faded. Glancing up, his blue eyes met the half-covered face. She, too, seemed to be spent from the skirmish,
her posture falling slightly.
"Thanks," she said between breaths.
He waved a dismissive hand at her, "It was my pleasure."
His gaze fell a little lower as she shifted her stance until he caught sight of her pulling a blood-covered hand away from her torso. Shock overwhelmed him as he realized the
side of her jacket was torn and stained darker with fresh blood. She seemed to follow his gaze and immediately pressed her hand hard against the wound.
"You're hurt," he said, taking a step forward. "I can get you to S.H.I.E.L.D., patch you up…"
His words waivered into silence as she suddenly turned and ran in the opposite direction.
"Wait!" he called, chasing after her.
She jumped over the dead bodies of aliens and splashed through puddles of black blood as she turned into one of the dead-end alleys. Steve raced after, quickly catching up
to the woman. He found her glancing around at the walls in what could have been dismay. She turned to face him as he stepped closer, holding out a hand in warning.
"I just want to help you," he said. "Return the favor."
He tensed as her hand slipped into her pocket and pulled something out. It flew out of her hand with impossible precision, nicking his cheek. He exclaimed wordlessly in surprise
before ignoring the stinging sensation and took another step towards her.
But she took a step back and Steve was forced to marvel at what occurred. Instead of hitting the bricks behind her, she slid through the wall. It was as if it melted around
her, allowing the woman to pass clean through. It only took a fraction of a second, but Steve saw every movement with precise detail as if time had slowed. For a full minute,
he stood still before moving tentatively towards the wall and placing a hand against it. But it was as solid as he had previously believed.
When he turned around, he saw what had cut his face. A card the size of his palm sat on the ground just beyond where he had been standing. Kneeling down, Steve picked up
the card. It bore a hand-painted woman on the face, a beaker and a book in each hand. The Alchemist was written across the top in an elegant script.
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