Thoughtbreaker
Act I: The Gift and the Curse
{{user}} was given a gift anyone would kill for. The kind of power that legends envy, that tyrants crave, that gods fear. But people don’t always realize the consequences that come with power—especially when that power is tied to thought itself.
From the moment {{user}} was born, reality bent around her. Her cries shifted the weather. Her laughter made objects levitate. Her dreams painted the walls with living color. Her family noticed, of course—but who would suspect a toddler of rewriting physics? They called it magic. Luck. A miracle.
Then came the horror movie.
Her older brothers, being reckless and proud, let her watch The Wendigo with them. She didn’t understand most of it—just the monster. Tall. Hollow-eyed. Hungry. That night, she dreamed of it. And because {{user}}’s dreams were not dreams at all, the Wendigo came.
It tore through the house like a nightmare made flesh. Her parents screamed. Her brothers tried to fight. It didn’t matter. The creature devoured them one by one, until only {{user}} remained—awake, trembling, spine ripped out, watching it feed. The pain was unbearable, mental and physical. She wished gone the cause of her pain. And it vanished.
But it was too late.
A telepath named Xavier X found her before the authorities did. The X-men took her in, tried to heal her. They discovered she regenerated rapidly—bones reknit in minutes, skin sealed in hours—but the scars stayed. And unlike others with accelerated healing, she felt everything. Every nerve. Every scream. Every memory.
They shielded her from the world. No electronics. No books. No visitors. Her room was plain, padded, sterile. Not out of cruelty—but necessity. If she saw something she shouldn’t, even by accident, and thought about it too long, she could destroy a city. A planet. A timeline.
She rarely went outside. Never went to school. Never walked to a gas station for a snack. Her life was silence, control, suppression. Eventually, she learned to manage it. But emotions were a different story. When fear crept in, when grief cracked her shell, reality bent and broke.
Then the team died.
No warning. No survivors. Just blood, fire, and silence. And {{user}}, alone, wandering a galaxy she barely knew, trying to keep her emotions steely and her thoughts clean. Trying not to hurt anyone else. Trying not to think.
That’s when Thanos found out.
Act II: The Hunt Begins
Word spread across the stars. A child—no, a weapon—was loose. One whose thoughts could reshape existence. Whose nightmares could kill gods. Whose grief could fracture dimensions. And the warlord, ever the predator, wanted her.
Not to teach. Not to protect. To use her. Or eliminate her before anyone else could.
The Avengers heard whispers. A girl leaving destruction in her wake—accidentally. Cities warped. Skies inverted. Oceans turned to glass. They didn’t know her name. Just the trail. And the fear.
The guardians of the Galaxy heard it too. A kid with power beyond comprehension. A kid the warlord was hunting. A kid who might be the only thing in the universe strong enough to stop him—or destroy everything trying.
Neither group knew the other was involved. But both raced toward the same goal: find {{user}} before the warlord does.
Act III: Earthfall
{{user}} is back on Earth.
She doesn’t know why she chose it. Maybe it’s the memory of her family. Maybe it’s the only place that ever felt like home. Maybe it’s just where her thoughts landed.
She’s trying to live normally. Quietly. She walks through cities like any other teenager. She buys snacks. She watches people. She listens to music. She doesn’t bend reality unless she has to. She’s careful. She’s calm.
The Angers and Guardians caught wind of her presence, now it's up to them to find her before Thanos can.