Cornelia Street - Avengers

Prologue

"A man's love for his daughter knows no bounds, for she is the reflection of his heart, the embodiment of his dreams, and the promise of his legacy."
...

For as long as the world could remember, whatever threat there was to face, big or small, in the times before there had been Avengers to protect them, there had been hope. A legacy written in the stars, a saga of heroism etched into the very fabric of existence. 

Yet, beneath the veneer of their triumphs, a timeless struggle persisted—a dance as old as time itself, between the forces of light and shadow.

In the grand tapestry of existence, good and evil had always existed, diametrically opposed, each weaving its own narrative. But within the sanctum of Tony Stark's cliffside Malibu mansion, long before the existence of the Earth's protectors, where the boundaries between the mundane and the miraculous blurred, a shift was palpable. For in the heart of this fortress, the lines between light and darkness began to blur.

It was as if the universe itself held its breath, caught in the throes of anticipation, for the emergence of a new dawn—one where the dichotomy of good and evil would no longer reign supreme. A daughter was born. 

One which would redefine the very definition of what it meant to be good, or what it meant to teeter on the precipice of darkness and cross the line into the unknown. In the arms of her parents, with her Father knowing his life would never be the same.

The world was delighted at the birth of his daughter, the birth of a Stark. The new generation knew no bounds for brilliance, but for him, the world went quiet. It was like everything had made sense, just for a moment. He had found his purpose.

He would protect her with his life, for as long as he had breath in his body, no one would ever take her from him. She would be loved, but more importantly, she would be safe. For he knew that hope was the only thing stronger than fear.

In the end, it wasn't the battles he fought or the enemies he vanquished that defined his journey, but the unwavering belief that hope could pierce the deepest shadows.

It was all about hope.

...

Alyona had remembered her Papa taking her to the Moscow Zoo when she was merely seven years old. It had opened decades before she was born, and he had laughed as she gleefully pointed up at the year inscribed on the entrance plaque. 1864.

To him, it was a proud statement of how some institutions stood the test of time, solely if they were held by metal bars, rules, boundaries and captivity. She vividly remembered standing, in awe, before the bars of the Siberian tiger. She watched the enormous beast, as Massimo had called it, with its heavy exhales clouding the scene in the cold air.

Alyona reached out to touch the bars with her mitten-clad hands before a large hand on her shoulder firmly pulled her back.

"He would have your arm as an appetiser if he were given the chance, myshka," her Papa warned, giving her a soft smile as she looked up at him, blue eyes widened with childish awe. She looked back, finding the tiger pacing the bars once more, strides long and agitated, turning with claustrophobic fever at his inability to reach her.

"Papa, he looks as though he wants to leave."

"I'm sure that he does. But he cannot."

Alyona tilted her head, "I think he misses his home."

"This, this is his home, my sun," he had murmured, kneeling down beside her, his own eyes following the obsessive pacing of the creature. "He was born in a cage; this is all he knows. If he were to get out, he wouldn't know where to go."

"I could show him."

Massimo had laughed at her decisive statement, recognising the strength of her tone, and knowing that once his daughter had made up her mind there was no changing it. "He would eat you up, myshka, and then what would I do?"

Standing up, he reached down to take his daughter's gloved hand in his own, kissing the back of it as he led her from the enclosure. 

He could lead her body away, but her mind would linger on the cage, even when he turned her head so that she would look away.

...