AN: I don't own the Avengers (though once I've taken over the world I will). Please review/follow/favorite if you like the story.

I walked through the alleyway, the smoggy nighttime color of the sky was visible through the line between the buildings' roofs on either side. I moved silently past the menacing figures in the doorways on either side of me, the dark shadows that could hide danger, the laughter and screams that echoed from a nightclub that had seen better days. I knew all of it was there-but I was not afraid. None of this could hurt me.

There were sirens in the street, and I silently sprinted out of the alley in time to see a black pickup truck roar past, three squad cars on its trail.

Faster then you can say car chase I was running along the sidewalk, feet pounding on pavement, dodging and shoving past the people walking along. I matched the speed of the police cars easily. The pickup was heading for the highway on ramp, but I knew a shortcut. I turned down another alley and skidded to a stop. I turned my head up to the line of sky, and held up my hands.

"Are you praying?" A small voice asked from a second-floor window behind me. It was a little girl, with blond pigtails, and wearing pink flannel pajamas. "Are you an angel?"

"I'm the opposite, kid." I said, offering a smile. Then I turned my wrists just so, and floated off the ground. I twisted them again, and suddenly shot upward, turning off gravity again just before bashing my brains in on the top platform of the fire escape. I reached up and grabbed the side of the roof, pulling myself up over it easily, turning my hands again so that I landed softly on my feet. I sprinted across the rooftop easily, and leapt off the side with ease. Turning my hands in a split second, I was pulled towards the next roof and landed in a run. Another six roofs later, I was standing at the highway on ramp.

Gravity. It's one of the most powerful things in the universe, right up there with time and space. And I control it. All matter lets off the tiniest bit of gravitational pull, and I can change how powerful that pull is on me with a flick of my wrists. It enables me to fly. And when you lessen gravity, it lets you run faster then a normal person ever could.

Sixteen stories below me, I saw the black pickup roaring onto the highway. I jumped off the roof easily, turning and pressing my arms to my sides, rocketing down towards the truck. A second before I hit the street, I made the pickup truck's bed pull me, and I was pulled to the side. I shut off gravity once I was over the truck's bed, slowed myself for an instant, and returned gravity to normal. I landed softly on the truck bed.

Behind me, sirens wailed. I sword inside my head. The cameras on the dash of the squad car would be filming everything. I reached up and pulled my hood over my face, hoping the black hoodie under my army jacket would hide my face.

There was one driver in the car, armed. In the seat next to him was a backpack, presumably holding whatever he stole. I banged my fist on the back window of the cab, and the driver whipped his head around, saw me, panicked, and yanked sideways on the wheel. I leapt off the side of the truck bed and rolled when I landed, the truck flying and rolling when it hit the ground, flames and shards of glass flying outward all around it. One shard sliced through my hoodie and slashed my shoulder, another slicing my forehead.

The cop cars skidded to a stop, and I heard sirens and shouts. But I knew I had to run. And my heart was in my throat. I hadn't meant to do that, just stop the car. Was the driver alive? I sprinted to the edge of the highway and leapt off the side. But I wasn't planning on leaving. I floated by the side and watched the scene unfold.

An ambulance. The driver of the car was pulled out, and they put him on an ambulance. But from the oxygen mask attached to his nose and mouth, I could see that he was alive. Thank god.

I just walked back to the city. I was only a couple miles from where I had started, in the alley, but that was a long walk. But I wasn't in the mood for flying. I had nearly gotten that man killed. I was in full control of my powers, but I was still dangerous.

It started to rain. I shivered and rubbed my arms, the rain leaking through my hoodie and army jacket, making the blood from my forehead run in my eyes and the blood from my shoulder stained my hoodie. The rain made the colors of the lights of the city run and blur, and made all sounds muffled. My short black hair was stuck to my face, freezing drops running down my back.

When I finally got home (and I use that word in its loosest form) I was cold, wet, bleeding, exhausted, and miserable. The Home for Unwanted and Orphaned Children was only three stores, and so run down you could barely see it's name painted in black on the front door, which was sunken into the side of the building three feet and so encrusted with grime I pulled my sleeve over my hand before I turned the doorknob.

I knew that I was past curfew, so I couldn't go in through the front, so I quickly peeked around the door. Sister McDonald was seated at the desk in the small dirty room, and I shut the door again before she saw me.

I walked around to the alley at the side of the building. My room was on the third floor. On a normal night I would have flown, and loved the feeling of wind rushing past me as I was pulled to the window. But tonight I climbed the fire escape, my feet slipping on the wet metal.

I dug my fingernails under the window pane and stumbled inside, dripping on the battered floor. The one dingy lamp suddenly flicked on.

Mother Superior and Sister Primrose were standing in the doorway, wearing disapproving looks.

"Um…. hi?" I asked hopefully.

Mother Superior's scowl deepened. "What were you doing? Do you know what time it is?"

But Sister Primrose had noticed the bleeding cut on my forehead. "Are you alright?" She rushed forward and pulled me to sit down on my cot. I wasn't surprised that Demitra, the girl I shared a room with, was still loudly snoring on her own cot. She slept through everything-once I had even yelled in her ear and it hadn't woken her up. The only way was to pull her off the bed and yell about a roach. She was deathly afraid of roaches. Woke her right up. "What happened to you, Rosalind?"

"Rory," I mumbled.

"That's beside the point," Sister Primrose and Mother Superior led me down to the cramped kitchen. They cleaned this whole building top to bottom every week, but the grime was the kind that came from age-wear and tear and tiredness. Sister Primrose cleaned the cut on my forehead and shoulder while the Mother Superior lectured me on responsibility and godliness. I knew that Sister Primrose saw my tattoos when she cleaned the cut on my shoulder, but she just pursed her lips and didn't say something. I have a tattoo of an angel on my collarbone and a tattoo of a demon on my back at the same place.

When they were both sure I was fine (physically and mentally) they made me change into dry pajamas in the bathroom and sent me up to bed.

But I couldn't get the images-the man on the stretcher, the truck rolling in flames, the glass shards sprayed across the pavement-out of my mind. So sleep was a long time coming.

The next morning, I woke with the sun, as always. I don't need much sleep. I glared at myself in the reflection of the window. The bandage on my forehead, just above the left of my gray eyes, was conspicuous, to say the least. I did my best to comb my short black hair into a braid only three twists long, but I liked anyways. My hoodie and army jacket were still damp from last night, but I put them on anyway, over a pink tank top with NO FEAR written on it in white, and a collar high enough to cover my tattoos. I also found my cargo pants and converse.

Demitra was still snoring away on her cot, but I knew she would get in trouble if she was late to breakfast, so I grabbed a leg and dragged her onto the floor. "Demitra! Roaches! They're everywhere, and they're hungry!" Demitra sat bolt-upright, tangled brown hair sticking straight out from her head like it had become home to a baby raccoon sometime during the night.

"You should not take so much joy from that." Demitra glared at me.

"Come on, get up." I laughed, my screw-up from last night momentarily forgotten. I helped my roommate to her feet. Demitra is plump, with dark skin, tangled brown curls, and charcoal skin. I tossed her her clothes. "We're late." Demitra wore her school uniform: dark red sweater over a white button up shirt, a black skirt, and black shoes. But she had cropped four inches off of the bottom of the sweater, and put rainbow laces in the shoes.

We didn't go to the same school. Well, we used to, but a week ago I had gotten expelled for starting one too many fights. I was going to start at a new public school in three weeks, but until then I had nothing to do. But Demitra and I always walked to school together, so I accompanied her even though I didn't go in.

Demitra grabbed three pieces of toast for us on the way out-we had missed breakfast entirely messing around on the stairs, and the other kids were already out the door. Demitra and I jogged out of the door, giving one piece of toast to me, keeping one for herself, and feeding one to the stray dog that lived in the alley.

Demitra and I stopped in front of the school. "See you later, Mitra." I said, turning to go back to the home. But Mack Gully had other ideas.

Mack Gully was only a freshman, but we were seventh graders and he was majorly bigger. Even the other bigger kids were scared of him. There was no doubt: Mack ruled this school. The teachers thought he could do no wrong, he loved pounding younger kids, and he also loved to show off that he was richer then us kids from the home. And everybody else. And since my first day here, Mack had decided that he hated me.

"Hey, Rory!" Mack yelled. I didn't stop. Just get out of the school yard…. I told myself, but Mack grabbed my arm. "You owe me some money. Hey, I'm talkin to you!" Mack made me pay him ten dollars every monday for his "expenses", even though his parents are richer then god, and I rarely had the ten dollars. I think his gang just liked the excuse to beat me up.

"I noticed. You are yelling, you know. Now please let me go before I have to hurt you." I snarled. I knew I could take this guy down with one turn of my wrists, but I had to keep my powers a secret. Nobody could know.

"Did you guys hear that?" Mack called to his friends-two girls (Janet and Pomphrey) and a buff guy (Lane, I think). They jeered at me. "She said please. Okay, who wants to go first?" Pomphrey and Lane grabbed my arms, dragged me out of the school yard and into an alley, and slammed me against a wall.

"Let me go, dung heads!" I cursed, trying to yank myself free. Trying desperately not to use my powers. "I'll tell the teachers. Hell, I'll tell the fricking FBI, Gully!" Mack jeered again.

"Pomphrey, you wanna shut her up?" Pomphrey jeered, and punched me in the gut. I gagged. I had to stay calm. I couldn't use my powers. "Want to pay up, Rory? Had enough?"

"Leave her alone!" Demitra was running towards us, but Mack shoved her back and she was no match for him. "She hasn't done anything to you!"

"Scram, Princess, or you'll be next." Mack threatened. Demitra paled.

"Mitra, just go." I sighed. "I'll be fine." Demitra glanced between me and Mack, then turned and hurried away. Pomphrey glanced at me uncertainly.

"Can I hit her again?"

"No?" I said hopefully. Can't blame me for trying. Janet and Lane slammed me against the wall again, and when they were done Pomphrey punched me in the jaw so hard I saw stars. Mack doesn't even fight his own battles, the coward.

"Hey!" A mans voice, from the street. Finally, a pedestrian. I love pedestrians. I wouldn't be nearly this pretty if it weren't for pedestrians. "What are you doing?" Mack glared at the man, who had sandy brown hair, a strong jaw, and hazel eyes. He wore a brown leather jacket, a plaid shirt, and jeans. He also looked strangely familiar, but I couldn't remember where I'd seen him before.

"Back off, old man, this isn't any business of yours." Mack growled.

"How many 40's gangster movies have you seen?" I asked, panting, but Pomphrey hit me in the jaw again, and this time I almost fell over.

"Let her go." The man said threateningly. "You don't want to mess with me. I'm trying to do you a favor here."

"We could take you." Mack snarled.

"No, you couldn't." The man pulled a round red-white-and-blue shield off his back. How had we not seen that before? That was nuts! Mack tried to punch him, but the man pushed Mack to the side easily with his shield, like Mack was a small child. I was impressed that he had resisted the urge to smack Mack in the face with something heavy and metal. It's always a little hard for me. Then the man turned the shield and shoved back Pomphrey so that she landed on her but in a puddle. Lane and Janet glanced at each other and took off running, helping the other two up and scrambling away.

I stumbled as soon as they let me go, rubbing my jaw, but the man caught my elbow to steady me.

"Are you alright?" He asked, looking honestly worried.

"I'm fine," I said. "Thanks for the save."

"I don't like bullies," He said.

"I love the random pedestrians that save me from bullies." We both laughed. This guy seemed decent, I was less beat up then I could've been right now, and it was sunny out. All in all, a pretty decent day.

"What happened to your eye?" Shield man frowned at the cut above my left eye, held shut with two butterfly wing bandages. "Was that those kids?"

"If it was those kids, would they also have been considerate enough to put bandaids on it?" I asked, and didn't wait for an answer. "It wasn't them, but it's fine."

"Are you sure you're okay?" The man was looking genuinely concerned now.

"I'm fine. And thanks again. But I'd better go." I fled the alley before he could ask any more questions that I had no intention of answering.

There is: chapter one of a new story. It's a beautiful thing. Just look at it! *wipes away tear and the amazingness of own writing*. Anyway, please review/follow/favorite this story. Later, taters.