It's been three years to the day since the apocalypse happened, and two and a half years since I joined FACTS. FACTS, or the Future Association for Control and Termination of Superhumans, is an organization dedicated to killing the rest of the superhumans, and to stop the apocalypse.
We've been stuck on the sub levels of the Avengers compound for three years now. Six months after the apocalypse, we agreed to allow it to become a FACTS base, lest we be killed. Rumor has it that before I joined, it was Testing, not Termination, but there's no way that's true.
I look into the mirror. I look like the other me. Because I am the other me. I look away. I'm not going to make the same mistakes she did. I pull on my old training suit and put a pink blazer over it, fixing my clip on FACTS ID card. It expires in a year and 6 months, at which point they'll "reevaluate" my tenure.
AKA, they'll kill me. It's called "termination" for a reason. I'm not an idiot, but I am a hero. And heroes give their lives for others. Not that I have a choice.
I walk out of my room and head to Sub level 8, where we used to have a bunch of labs. Now it's cubicles, a theater for training videos, and a time machine.
I don't know much about time, so I take orders. From Bruce. The man that killed Tony. God, I hate that guy.
I sit at my desk and check my emails. I feel like an adult, even though I never even technically graduated highschool. Jay sits next to me.
"Damn, you're early again? You really that eager to work?" she asks, logging into her computer. I laugh.
Shit. I need to be at the time machine at 9, and it's 9:12. Bruce is gonna kill me. I'm getting fired for sure, I think, running across the whole floor with my laptop bag.
