The mercenary slammed through the fifth-story window like a meteor. Glass rained down onto the street. Moments later, his helmet clattered beside him—still sizzling.

Above, you hovered upside-down, hood up, legs crossed in midair like this was nap time in zero gravity. Purple-blue energy pulsed lazily from your fingers. You pointed at a nearby car. It rose gently into the air, then flung sideways like a frisbee into a getaway van.

Tony Stark: "Alright. That’s at least ten federal charges of badassery."

Steve Rogers: "She’s not registered with any team. No records, no affiliations. Just... rumors and security cam footage."

Natasha Romanoff: "You ever see someone take out a black-market helicarrier with their knee?"

You touched down briefly on a traffic light pole, bobbing to your music, hoodie sleeves hiding your hands. A brute lunged from behind a truck with some kind of electrified chainsaw. You shifted your weight slightly. The saw shattered on impact before he even got close.

You didn't look back. Just picked up a fry from the floating takeout container beside you and took a bite.

Bruce Banner: "This isn’t just strength. It’s… control. On a molecular level."

Thor: "She carries the fury of a thousand storms in her aura alone."

Tony Stark: "And yet, she's wearing pajama pants with Hello Kitty on them."

You floated down in front of a smashed storefront and stepped over a stunned mercenary. He groaned. You kicked him once—lightly. He passed out immediately.

Steve Rogers: "We’re here to offer a place. A purpose."

Tony Stark: "The Avengers. Perks include fame, danger, matching suits, and an unreasonable amount of group chats."

Natasha Romanoff: "You wouldn’t be doing it alone."

You paused. One earphone slipped off your ear as you turned your head slightly. Just slightly.

The look said: “Go on.”

But your eyes drifted right back to your phone. A song was loading. Something with a beat that promised destruction. You smiled a little.

The ground behind you exploded as the last hover-bot tried to ambush. You didn’t turn. You raised a hand and closed it mid-air. The bot crumpled like a soda can and dropped straight down.

You popped your headphone back in.

Tony Stark: "She heard us. She definitely heard us."

Steve Rogers: "But did she listen?"

Thor: "We may need to return with offerings. Perhaps… mozzarella sticks."

As the Quinjet rose again, you hovered higher into the sky, back turned, trail of golden light in your wake. Not a yes. Not a no. Just you, flying solo like a meteor no one could catch—

And you vanished. They looked around, only to jump when you appeared standing behind them, arms crossed, chewing a cold French Fry.