So, obviously, the first order of business would be to post MishMash's origin, right? Well, it's slightly complicated. I wrote the story years ago, but upon reading it again some monthes ago, I noted changes that would make it better. So technically I'm still editing it. But here's some that I've already edited that I thought my dear readers would love. So enjoy this bit, and soon I'll have more!
(Quick note: This happened soon after the Battle of New York. And yes, Coulson's alive.)
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Where It Began
Nothing out of the ordinary was happening. It was just another fight, another weakling girl being bullied by big, strong boys. The fight ends badly for the girl. She runs, finally, ignoring the shouts behind her as she flees her tormenters. She runs into the girl’s room, to her lonely bunk bed in the corner. She flings herself across the bed and weeps for the parents she never knew, the life she never had. She cries for herself, for the friend who was adopted before her, for her Savior. Most of all, she cries for a rescue. For someone to save her from this nightmare called being an orphan.
Far above this girl, a man, sitting in a dark office, watches me weep via a small screen.
“When do we go?” Another man asks, watching the footage as well.
“Patience, Coulson. We go tomorrow.”
The next day, I sit at breakfast, sketching in a small notebook. The orphanage head, Miss Ruter, interrupts. “Dear, there’s a potential adopter wanting to see you.” I take one last bite and hurry after her, wondering who it could be. Nobody’s ever wanted to adopt me. Behind my back they call me an ‘unwanted’, to my face they tell me nobody’s found me yet. I don’t believe that, but what could I say? I step into the small parlor and stop, startled. Standing inside is a tall, dark-skinned man wearing a black cape and an eyepatch. In the corner, another man scans the room. He’s a little shorter and has lighter skin and brown hair. The man in the middle of the room sees me and motions for me to sit.
“What's your name?” He asks kindly.
“Clair.” I answer nervously.
“Clair…” He says to himself thoughtfully. “Any last name?” He asks louder, so I can hear him.
“No, sir. No one can remember my last name. I was dropped off one night thirteen years ago at a different orphanage by someone no one recognized or remembers. I’ve changed orphanages six times since then.”
“For what reasons?”
“Mostly because they were too full.”
“Was the first orphanage here in NY?”
“Yes. I’ve only been in an orphanage that was in a different state once, and that was in Main.”
The man standing in the corner clears his throat. “Sir, we should get back soon.”
The man in front of me gives him an annoyed glance. “Yes, I know, Coulson. We will get there when we get there.”
Coulson looks at my wide eyes and laughs.
“I think you might want to go ahead and tell her.”
“I will when I’m ready. Give me a few more minutes.” Turning back to me, he continues, “Do you remember your parents?”
“Barely. Like I said, I was dropped off by someone no one recognized or remembers. I do have one fuzzy memory, though. It may or may not be my mom. I remember a woman bending over my crib. She had blue eyes and blond hair. That’s all I remember.”
“This could be her daughter!” He murmurs to Coulson. Turning back to me again, he asks, “Have you heard of the organization called S.H.I.E.L.D?”
“Yes.” I reply simply. I had heard S.H.I.E.L.D mentioned quite a few times. The stuff of legends.
“It’s real.” He pauses, either for dramatic effect or to study my reaction. “A year ago I became aware of a rumor among S.H.I.E.L.D agents. It tells of a young girl, born of heroes and destined to save the world. Legend has it that the girl was separated from her family and put into an orphanage. Since then, I’ve been looking for that girl. And I believe that girl is you.”
I blink. Me, a hero? “I don’t have any powers.” I protest.
“I can help with that. According to legend, you were born without powers. While looking for you, I devised a test that hopefully will give you powers. Of course, there is also the risk of dying. Are you willing to take that risk?”
I consider. “OK. When do we start?”
“You’re not taking this seriously. You may not survive.”
“It’s not like anyone will care if I die. This is a chance of a life for me. I’ll take it.”
The next day, I walk through the helm of the Tricarrier with my new dad. The adoption papers had gone through a few hours ago. It took a little longer than needed, as according to the government, I don’t exist. He leads me into a small lab. “Clair, meet Dr. Aaron Sayl. He will be performing the operation.” I shake his hand.
“Nice to meet you.” I greet.
“A pleasure.” He returns. “Are you the new test subject for project M?”I nod.
“Other than the fact that I might die, I’m actually pretty excited.” He smiles.
“Actually, there’s a bigger chance of you surviving than dying. I’ve made modifications to the blood sample that we’ll be injecting into you. For instance, I synthesized it so it’ll adapt to your blood type.”
“What blood sample will you be injecting into me?”
“Wolverine’s. He’s a mutant, so you may get the mutant gene from it. Also his is the most compatible we’ve found so far. It would be interesting to see if you get the claws and bones he has.”
Fury gives him a look.
“Well, shall we get it over with?” I ask.
“Sure. We’re all ready for you.” He leads me into a small room, occupied by a low table and some racks holding test tubes. He motions for me to lie down on the table and begins strapping me on. “I’m afraid the restraints are necessary.” He replies to my questioning look. Once he’s finished, he holds a small mask over my nose and mouth, explaining that it was just an anesthetic. Everything fades away. My life as a normal 13 year old girl is gone.
Everything is black, deep, unvarying black. Slowly, I start to see pictures. The first one I see is a burning building, on the edge of collapsing. I see myself push someone out. I don’t make it before the building collapses. That picture fades away, to be replaced by another. This one is Dad, standing over a grave. I can tell he’s upset. I can see my name on the gravestone, but not the date or year. This one is replaced quickly by another picture. This shows a figure I don’t recognize. He’s dressed in green and gold, in clothes that look like they belong on royalty, and laughing triumphantly. I can tell he’s laughing at me. Everything else is white. His laughter grows until it echoes through my mind, even after the picture fades…
A few hours later, I awake in some sort of recovery room. Dad is standing at a window across the room, waiting for me to wake up. When he hears me stir, he looks over. “Clair! You’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Okay. My head is pounding, though.” I hesitate, about to tell him about the pictures, but I change my mind. Probably just a side effect of some sort.
“Can you walk?”
I swing my legs to the floor and take a few steps. I wobble at first, but steady quickly. I nod.
“I’m good.”
“Good. You’re starting school tomorrow.”
The next day, I walk into Midtown High with Peter Parker, a superhero known as Spiderman. Since Agent Coulson is acting Principal, he arranged it so I’m in the same classes as Peter, along with our lockers being side-by-side. Just as we get to our lockers, a red haired girl walks up. “Hi, Peter. Who’s your friend?”
“I’m Clair. I’m Pete’s cousin. I’ll be staying with him while… some family stuff blows over, so Aunt May decided it would be easier for me to make friends if she enrolled me here.” It surprises me how quickly I invent this lie.
“I’m Mary Jane Watson. Most people call me MJ. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.”
“Have you met- oh, never mind, here he comes.” A tall, brown haired boy joins us.
“Hey Pete.” He says, then sees me. “Who are you?”
“I’m Clair Brownings, Pete’s cousin. I’m staying with him for awhile. I’ll be going here for at least this term.”
“I’m Harry Osborn. A pleasure to meet you.”
“A pl-“
I’m cut short by a deep voice behind me. “You the new kid?”
I turn to see a tall, blond-haired jock addressing me.
“Yes.” I answer shortly, slightly distrustful.
“I just wanted to let you know who rules the school around here.” He leans closer. “I do. And I suggest you stay out of my way.”
Something quietly snaps inside me. I’ve had it with being bullied by tough guys who think they can do whatever they want. I’m tired of being trampled, tired of being pushed and shoved and knocked down in the dirt because of the way I act, the way I dress, because of the way I am. I’m done.
“Well, good. Because I needed to know who the bully of the school was. I needed to warn him to stay out of my way.”
“Why’s that?” He asks, towering over me.
“Because I don’t stand for bullying. And it’s not going to happen here. And if it does, I may learn the route to the principal’s office very well.” I stand as tall as I can. Meaning, my head reaches his shoulders.
“You’re getting in over your head.” He warns.
“No, I’m not. You don’t know how I deal with bullying and you don’t want to find out.”
The bell rings. “I’m done here.” I turn and gather my books, the realization of what I just did hitting me. I could’ve gotten beat up, at most. What was I thinking? I head to class with Peter, who is in my first class. “That was awesome.” He says when we’re out of earshot of Flash.
“I don’t know what happened. I’ve never done anything like that.” I confide. “I felt a little like David in front of Goliath.”
Peter looks at me, mildly puzzled. Before he can ask, we reach the classroom just as the warning bell rings.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Hopefully soon I'll have more updated. When I do I'll post more. There's still lots to come! For now, enjoy this bit I've got done. I might make a few more changes to this part but that's as good as I've got so far. Hope you enjoy!
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