Jersey City – Behind Circle Q,
The streets of Jersey City still pulsed with life.
Kids laughed a block away. Neon signs flickered in quiet rhythm. Taxis honked impatiently, and the glow of fast-food joints spilled onto the sidewalk.
But to Kamala Khan, the world had become cold, hollow — and cruel.
She crouched in a narrow alley behind Circle Q, hidden between two dumpsters, her hoodie pulled tight around her face. Dirt streaked her cheeks. Her lip was split. A bruise colored her left eye, fading to a sickly green.
She hadn't eaten in two days.
She hadn't slept in four.
And she couldn't stop thinking about the fire.
The men in black. The screams.
Her parents' faces… the last she ever saw of them.
She didn't know why they were targeted. She didn't know why their apartment exploded. All she knew was that she'd survived by instinct — slipping out the back door seconds before the blast.
Now, she was alone. Seventeen. And scared out of her mind.
Footsteps.
She froze, clutching a broken length of pipe like a weapon.
A shadow moved in the alley.
"Don't come closer!" she shouted, voice cracking.
A figure stepped into the flickering light.
Natasha Romanoff.
Black suit. Crimson hair. Calm but cautious eyes.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Natasha said quietly.
Kamala gritted her teeth. "Who are you?"
"Someone who knows what it's like to run. Someone who's been hunted."
Natasha took one slow step closer.
"I heard what happened. To your family."
Kamala's grip on the pipe tightened. "They… they didn't do anything wrong. We were just normal people."
"I know," Natasha said, softer now. "That's why I believe it wasn't random."
Kamala's eyes shimmered. "You know who did it?"
"No. Not yet. But I know how to find out. And I know you won't last long out here alone."
Silence.
The sounds of the city felt distant — like a different planet.
"Why me?" Kamala asked, broken. "I'm nobody."
"No," Natasha said firmly. "You're somebody they wanted erased. And that means you're more important than you think."
Kamala looked down at the cracked sidewalk, tears falling freely now.
"I don't have a home. I don't have family. I'm not brave."
Natasha walked up to her, crouched to eye level.
"You survived."
That one word hung in the air.
Natasha extended a hand.
"You want answers? You want justice?"
Kamala hesitated.
Then dropped the pipe — and took the hand.
---
Brooklyn – Community Shelter
The city buzzed outside — buses rumbling, kids playing in nearby basketball courts, sirens occasionally cutting through the noise.
But Tyrone Johnson and Tandy Bowen sat inside the shelter's quietest corner, watching the world pass by like ghosts.
They were just teenagers. Yet life had never let them be teenagers.
Tyrone clutched an old, faded hoodie — his brother's. Tandy traced the cracks in her phone screen, unable to call anyone who cared.
In this reality, they had met early — after both suffered personal loss. Tyrone's brother was wrongly shot in a police chase. Tandy's father died in a corruption cover-up. They met at a grief counseling group and never separated.
Together, something had awakened. A spark. Shadows and light.
But lately, their powers had been… flickering. As if something had shifted.
A soft knock drew their attention.
A tall man stood in the doorway, glasses slightly askew, calm gaze watching them.
Bruce Banner.
"You two are hard to track," he said gently.
Tyrone stood defensively. "Who are you?"
"A scientist," Bruce said. "And someone who knows what it's like to carry something dangerous inside."
Tandy tilted her head. "You know about us?"
Bruce nodded. "I know you've been abandoned. Pushed aside. That your powers don't feel right anymore."
Tyrone didn't answer.
Bruce walked closer, hands in his pockets. "I'm part of something new. Something extraordinary."
He set a card on the table — just a number, printed in silver ink.
"When you're ready… call."
He turned to go, then paused.
"I promise, this isn't a trap. It's a way forward."
And just like that, he left — leaving silence behind… and a spark of something different in the air.
---
Queens
The smell of fresh coffee floated from the Stacy kitchen.
On the porch, Gwen Stacy sat cross-legged with her headphones in, flipping through a notebook filled with doodles, biology notes, and sarcastic quotes.
She was smart. Sharp. Kind. Just… normal.
Her life hadn't been marked by tragedy or destiny. She went to class, dodged awkward flirting at school, helped her dad with groceries, and occasionally daydreamed about being in a band she'd never join.
Across the street, her dad — Captain George Stacy — locked his squad car and gave her a quick wave before heading inside for his night shift.
Just another day.
That's when she noticed someone standing by the sidewalk.
A tall man in a leather jacket.
She blinked. "…Is that…?"
Steve Rogers.
"Hi," he said calmly, walking up to the porch.
"Are you—?" she stood slowly, still confused. "Captain America?"
"Last I checked," he replied with a faint smile. "You're Gwen Stacy?"
"Uh, yeah?"
Steve looked her over — not judgingly, just thoughtfully. She was exactly what the file said. Ordinary. No enhanced genes. No secret double life. No powers.
But John's list said otherwise.
Gwen crossed her arms. "Did I… do something wrong?"
Steve chuckled. "Not at all. Actually, I came here to offer you something."
She raised a brow.
He said, "There's an extraordinary academy. Off-grid. Private. We help people — the kind that don't fit the usual mold."
Gwen's smile faded slightly. "You're recruiting me?"
"I wasn't going to," Steve admitted. "But someone I trust gave me a list. Told me every name matters. Yours was on it."
She blinked. "Someone… you trust?"
"Yeah. His name's Arcanist. Have you heard of him?"
Hearing this, her eyes lit up. "You mean the strongest Avenger?"
"Doesn't matter," Steve said. "He seems to know you."
There was an awkward pause.
"Look," Steve said, more gently now. "You don't have to say yes. I won't force you. But if you want a chance to see what's really going on in the world — to matter — you're welcome to join us."
Gwen looked back at her front door… at the quiet house she loved, but didn't feel fully at home in.
She looked down at her notebook.
Then up at Steve.
"…What do I have to do?"
"Just show up," he said, handing her a simple silver chip. "The rest? You'll figure it out."
She stared at the chip.
Then smiled. "I'm in."