Marvel Short Stories

Chapter One

"Mama," Azraelle calls, waddling her little body over to me. Smiling at the little girl, I pick her up, setting her on my waist before brushing my fingers over her face, the little girl doing the same with me.

"How was daycare, Azzie?" I ask, taking note of the marker on her arms.

"Mama!" She yells, showing me her arms with the markings. Laughing, I turn back to Liz, the daycare worker.

"How was she?" I ask, and Liz chuckles, tickling the little girls belly.

"She was an absolute angel," Liz tells me. "She had an accident earlier, but a fresh change of clothes later and she was back to the table playing with the other kiddos. She's really getting along with some of the older kiddos."

Smiling, I turn to the little girl, a proud mom. "I can tell, this little devil got ahold of the markers." Attacking her with tickles, she's laughing, pushing my hand away. "Has she eaten her veggies?" I ask, pulling my hand away to give Liz my full attention. Pulling Azzie up closer, she nuzzles her head on my shoulder, and I can tell it's probably time for a nap.

"All except the broccoli," Liz sighs, folding her arms. She's made it her mission to show Azraelle how good broccoli is, but I'm with my daughter on this. Gween bushes suck. "Have you heard about the Sokovia Accords?" Liz asks, changing the subject.

"No, I was busy all day helping Sarah with the boat. Why do you ask?" Looking at her, she just sighs, gesturing for me to follow her. Confused, I just do as she wishes, walking into the office with her and she turns on the television.

"I was trying to record my favorite show when this came up," is all she says before playing the recording.

"A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna," the reporter tells us from off screen, a video of the explosion playing. "More than seventy people have been injured, at least twelve are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka." Gasping, my hand flies to my mouth, fear ripping through my system.

"Oh my god," I murmur under my breath.

"Mama?" Azzie asks, placing her hand on my wrist as she looks up at me.

Looking down at her, I smile, trying to lessen her worry. "I'm okay, baby." With a kiss on her forehead, I return my attention to the screen, and Azzie returns to her snuggled position.

"...James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier." Looking at the picture, I furrow my eyebrows, confused. The picture is blurry, but he looks familiar. Where do I know him? "The infamous HYDRA agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations." Oh my god. It's him.

"How could they identify anyone with that picture?" I ask, tilting my head as I try to get a better look at him. "That looks like it could be anyone." It really does, but it looks like him, too.

"I have no idea, but they did," Liz sighs, turning off the news. "Alright, you guys should head home, I don't wanna keep little Azzie from her nap." She grins at Azraelle, but frowns as she sees the little girl already sleeping in my arms.

Laughing quietly so as not to wake her, I put my other arm around her, now hugging her with both arms. "Have a good day," I tell the daycare worker, and Liz waves me out the door. Now determined, I walk to my car, gently putting my daughter in her car seat. Fussing, Azzie wakes up and I sigh, shushing and taking her hand as I sing her favorite song. It only takes a moment for her to go back to sleep, and I shut the door, moving to the driver seat so I can take her to Sarah's house.

When I get there, I dread waking my daughter up again, but I know it has to be done. Leaving the car, I open the door to Azraelle's car seat and unbuckle her. Being as gentle as possible, I lift her up to my chest and grab her bag, carefully getting out of the car. She stirs slightly, but doesn't fuss. Sigh. Good.

Walking towards the house, I open it to screaming children. Shit. Azraelle starts crying and brings her hands up, pushing herself up and I groan, closing the door behind me. "Hey, Sarah!" I greet, walking further into the house.

"Hey!" Sarah yells, attempting to be heard over the boys. "Aunt Emmie's here!" The boys immediately cheer, running up to me and silence, seeing Azraelle crying.

"Why's she crying?" Cass asks, and I sigh.

"She's just tired," I assure.

"You can put her up in the boys' room," Sarah offers. "It's time for them to play outside anyway." The two kids smile at each other, running off outside afterwards and I smile, silently thanking Sarah. Walking up the stairs to the boys' bedroom, I settle her in the cleanest bed and play with her, mainly running my hands up and down her arms to calm her and brushing my fingers over her face, the tactic working. When she finally goes to sleep, I turn on the baby monitors and leave her be, walking down the stairs to the kitchen.

With Sarah already making food, I smile, leaning against the wall to make sure I'm out of the way. "Hey, Gorgeous," I start, letting her know I'm there.

"Hey, Beautiful," Sarah returns, sending me her own smile. "You didn't tell me you were coming over."

"Yeah, it was last minute," I sigh. "And I was just with you thirty minutes ago." Sarah laughs at my comment, and I struggle not to chuckle as well. "I actually came to ask if you could watch Azraelle for a few days."

Sarah sighs. "I love that little girl, you know I would take her in a heartbeat." Then she pauses her cooking, turning to me. "Did you find a lead?"

My breath hitching, I wonder if I should tell her. "He was on the news today."

Her jaw drops. "The UN Bombing?" She asks, her guess accurate. After I nod, Sarah sets the utensils down, taking a moment to process the information. "Oh my god."

"I know."

I look down at the ground, worried she'll lecture me about the mess I got myself into. "How certain are you this is the guy?" She asks.

"I'm not sure," I tell her honestly. "The picture on the news was too blurry, but the description the reporter gave fits Azraelle's father." Sarah immediately picks up her phone, tapping away on the screen and I wait, watching her. When she hands me the phone, I see him. A perfect picture of him, in black and white. He's in World War II uniform, but his face is as clear as day. His eyes free of pain. Unable to breathe, I fall into the nearest seat, tears stinging my eyes as I look at his picture. It's him. I have to find him.

He should know about Azzie. Terrorist or not. Although if anything about what happened two years ago had any say, he wasn't a terrorist. And he still isn't. "You're going to find him, aren't you?" Sarah asks, and I nod, returning the phone as I stare at the table. This is a true lead, not a falsehood.

I had almost given up on finding him.

Sarah sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I might know someone who can help you find him," She says, and my best friend has me fully alert, giving her my full attention. Sarah walks over to her fridge, grabbing the notepad off the fridge, tearing off the grocery list on top. "Get yourself a plane ticket to Vienna," she says, writing something down on the piece of paper. "When you get to the airport here, call this number and tell them I sent you. They should pick you up there and hopefully," she sighs, handing me the paper. "You'll find him."

Thankful, I hug the woman. "Thank you," I murmur, and she hugs me back.

"Just make sure you come back," She tells me. "You have a daughter waiting for you." Nodding, I let her go, and run up the stairs.

Seeing my little girl, I give her a kiss goodbye in her sleep and I leave, driving to the airport.