Next Avengers: Season One (UNDER CONSTRUCTION)

Episode 16: Metamorphosis Part 1

She checked the mirror one more time. Her glamour was familiar, and the look on her cold illusion sent a wave of warmth flowing through her veins.

She paused. Maybe her hair should be shinier, more white than yellow, and her eyes should be black instead of blue. She was here to talk after all, so her lips would naturally be an electric red, so people could stay focused on her. Her face should be less broad and cheeks should swoop in rather than round out.

The door opened. If the guard was surprised by her looks, he was very good at hiding his reaction. He simply nodded at her and left the door open for her.

There were four people in the room: Strucker, Schmidt, Zola, and Madame fucking HYDRA herself.

She froze. Maybe this look wouldn't work today. It was too plain. It didn't command respect like Madame, with her steel-colored skin and fiery eyes.

As she saluted, Schmidt gave her a quick glance over. "Viper," he raised an eyebrow. "Why have you requested our audience?"

"Sir," she straightened up. "I'm ready."

"To enroll?" His eyes widened. It was almost comically, if it wasn't Red Skull.

"I'm the greatest cadet to walk these halls," he gave her a sharp look. "I know I'm young, but I have what it takes." They shared a look, exchanging different looks and facial responses as the girl stood stick straight.

Zola broke the silence. "Viper may be young, but she has had more training at her age than any recruit, even if only by osmosis."

Madame Hydra sniffed distastefully, sneering at her manicure. "She is twelve years old. An reckless, incompetent, child." Viper balled up her fists, dinging her nails into her fleshy palms. She wondered how incompetent she was if she cut the bitch's throat with her own nails.

This prompted a smile to cross Skull's face. "Precisely why she might be overdue for properly supervised training, Madame." He turned to his accomplices, asking for any objections.

Viper smiled, loosening her fists and lightly flex her fingers. She refused to let the dampness and pain in her palms break her concentration.

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The ending of the school day was heavenly, but leaving the school was a hell on its own. Billy was being knocked around, books kicked out of his hands, feet knocking against his hands, and the occasional messenger bag falling apart, letting all the books and pens fall on his head and slip down his shirt.

"Hey," his science notebook flew up, nearly hitting his nose. "This yours?" She waved the book in his face, fanning his flushing cheeks.

"Um, uh," he took the book from her hand. "Ub, thanks?" She shrugged it off, plopping herself down on the teacher's desk. "Uh, hey, you shouldn't do that."

"Why not?" She shrugged, "It's not like anyones here." Excluding the janitor, who was practicing judo in the hallway.

"Oh, um," his book slipped from his hands, landing on the floor with a pathetic thunk.

"Hey," he looked up. "You hungry? I know this great place around the corner," she nodded towards the door. "They double fry everything, even the ice cream."

He stuffed his book in the bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Um, yeah." He smiled at her, "I'd like that."

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She didn't ask for a table or pull up a chair. Instead, she flagged down a worker and asked about backroom. They were led to the back, and she knocked on the false wall. A slit opened up, revealing two nicotine-yellow eyes. Sylvie flashed a card at him, and the faux wall slid away.

They ducked in, Billy knocking his forehead against the frame on the first go. They climbed down the rattling stairs, into and underground bar. It was oddly put-together, with a rustic bar and a circular stools. There was silk-covered tables with ornately carved chairs, with pool tables and brassy lamps. On the stage, a goth band was playing something nonsensical with a certain rhythm.

"Pretty cool, huh?" She looked back, giving him a smile. "It was a speakeasy back in the twenties, and now it's the best bar you can find." She turned around, pulling up a card with his face on it. "This is your card. Flash it and you'll get anything you want." She tucked the card into his jean pocket and she disappeared after planting a kiss on his cheek.

Billy headed towards a corner booth, making himself comfortable on the cushioned seats. The cheek Sylvie kissed was still wet, and oddly tingling. He wiped at it, his hand feeling oddly heavy and he was having trouble flexing his fingers.

"Hey," he looked up. Sylvie was holding two glasses of caramel liquid. "You okay?"

He shook his head, trying to clear his head.

"Here," she held a glass out to him. "Take it." He held it with shaky hands, spilling some of it on his shirt. It burned the back of his throat, forcing its way back up. He gagged, coughing up his uvula.

"Hey, hey, hey," a hand beat on his back, forcing up his lungs. "It's okay. It's your first time. Here," a plastic bottle was put in his hands. "This'll make you feel better."

He nodded in thanks, taking tiny sips. It didn't burn, but it did soothe the sharp contractions in his throat. He soon went to swallowing, downing the entire bottle in seconds.

Maybe it was hallucinogenic, because the last thing he remembered was the feeling of sandpaper on his cheek.

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"Hey," there was a tight clamp on his shoulder, throwing him back and forth. "Hey! Wake up!" The grip tightened, and moved more rigorously.

Billy started, coughing and wheezing. His lungs seemed fused to his ribs, refusing to let any air out. The clamp on his shoulder moved to his bicep, pulling him forward, another solid object pounding against his back.

Once the tears cleared and he straightened up, he saw Sylvie, with a full fried feast in hand.

"Hey," she set the platter on the table, opting to sit beside him and run her hands down his back. "You okay?"

Billy shook his head.

She pouted, "Where are my manners?" She held out the drink. Ginger ale, iced. Once his throat cleared, she offered him a petal from the blooming onion. It was spicy and not too greasy, with an oddly earthy undertone.

Sylvie smiled, "Feeling better?" When he nodded, she gave a light squealing sound, like the one a girl makes when they see a baby gurgle. She laid down on the side, propping herself up on an elbow, letting Billy knock fries against the corner of her lips until she accepted them.

"So," Billy tried to focus on her and not the other female patrons. "How'd you know about this place?"

She swallowed another fry. "My stepdad," she sucked the seasoning off her fingers. "He let me wander around when I was a kid, and I thought adult parties were more fun than kiddie parties." She smacked her lips and gave him a grin. "Guess I as right."