Falling In

Tyene: (in a different set of armor) What the heck?

Wanda: Oh, you're in comic book continuity now. Different backstories and different plots, so different armor and temperament.

Tyene: Huh.

Wanda: I wrote this one shot out of frustration, mostly, after reading Civil War and a few of the lead ins to Dark Reign. I love Marvel Comics, but sometimes I wonder why the heroes even bother. I don't own Marvel or anything of theirs.

At the Courthose

The trail of Captain America.

And here I thought that these people couldn't get any stupider.

My name is Carrie Richter. I'm twelve years old, a street girl who was picked up by SHIELD to serve as a witness for Captain America's trial for violations of the Super Registration Act. An act that I, by the way, think is bullshit.

I'm pretty sure that this is meant to be a joke. The prosecution will have a bunch of posh, well dressed politicans and soldiers spouting the new law against the symbol of America, while the war hero gets a single, solitary street girl to deliver testimonial to his character.

What an utter farce.

It feels like an even bigger joke when I have to stand up on the podium. I need to stand on a box because the damn thing is so big. The guy interrogating me is Senator Kelly of all people – does he even have a law degree? What the hell is that idiot doing here?

I suppose when you think about it this is just an extension of the registration he's been pushing for mutants to undergo for years now.

I don't have a good feeling about any of this. I couldn't believe I had to testify to the good will for someone who had saved me countless times, both a few times personally and many others protecting the world at large from the chaos that's always at our doorstep.

And I've finally had my fill.

/

"I want to help you."

It takes me a minute to let those words sink in. I can't describe what I'm feeling-I can't even tell if I'm angry or sad or what. I have no idea what to do. So I laugh.

I laugh so hard my shoulders shake and my sides hurt. My eyes start burning. "You wanna help me." I repeat, coughing on the saliva getting caught in the back of my throat. "Where have I heard that before?"

"Carrie, don't be unreasonable-"

"Unreasonable? You threw me – an unarmed twelve year old – out onto the streets because super-villains follow me everywhere, I've nearly died a million times since I came here, and you – you – you-" I choke and cough. "You-you're telling me not to be unreasonable? Do you call this unreasonable, Kelly? What is unreasonable about this, Kelly, because I can't see it."

"I understand what you're feeling-"

"Yeah. I understand what you're feeling. Haven't heard that one before." My eyes are burning. "You can't even begin to comprehend how I feel about this fucking mess, you don't even care. If you decide to follow it up with the classic 'greater good' and for a better world philosophy, Asgard help me...I'll rip your fucking throat out. If you had anything-anything resembling empathy for me, I wouldn't be standing in this shit right now."

"You're surrounded by people who are trained. Who have powers. I have neither. You've probably read more statistic boards than you could count, you know that where I am is the worst place you can be, and that's before the supervillains show up. So why-why, why would you do this to me? I don't understand."

People need someone to blame for their problems because they never want to accept their own sins. Hell, if we lived in their cozy little houses in front of their wide-screened tvs with their expensive chocolate, wouldn't we think the same way?

It hits me quickly, as I look up at his face, the man who rallied people behind him to make the world a 'safer place', free of mutants and superheroes.

And suddenly the extent of the betrayal becomes clear.

I raise a shaking hand.

"Actually...that's the worst part. I do understand. I don't even exist to you. I'm expendable. Replaceable. You could throw me in a mental asylum the minute I looked at you cross-eyed and no one would heed my screams. No-one would ever take your word over mine, why should they? You're the champion of normal people. I'm some twelve-year-old street brat who can barely keep herself alive. I'm that necessary casualty whenever someone fire-bombs a criminal hideout, because what's one stupid street kid over catching those bastards?"

"Carrie-" I've heard that tone, too. It's that exasperated sigh when you aren't doing what an adult wants you do. It's the 'tone' they use whenever you get angry or sad. It's the 'tone' they use whenever you do something they don't want you to.

"Is that what it means to be a hero? To see p-people as a series of n-numbers? Do you know what it's like when we're about to d-die...? H-How scared we a-are...?" I shake my head slowly. I'm trembling so badly I'm surprised I can still stand.

"M-maybe that's where I made m-my mistake...I trusted you. I thought that you'd know what to do, that I'd be safe under your guard. B-But...it's not like that, is it?"

I can feel the people watching me. It's strangely quiet. Steve is watching me from the side, worried. Worried for me, when he's about to get trialed for being a hero.

For saving their ungrateful lives.

...Worried for me.

I turn back to Kelly. "That was my mistake. I was under the impression that we could stop those crazies without stooping to their level. Without backstabbing and manipulating. Without betraying and using people l-like weapons that are thrown away when they've served their purpose."

"Could the witness please not make a scene-"

My jaw catches in sheer rage, and the next thing I know, I'm screaming.

"SO WHAT IF I MAKE A SCENE? IT WOULD DAMN WELL SERVE YOU RIGHT IF I MAKE A FUCKING SCENE! I risked my life-everyone you've locked away risked their lives on a daily basis to keep you safe!"

I glare out into the crowd, into their frightened faces. "I didn't have to go into that ship, nearly get dissected alive and screaming just for a chance to turn it around...I could have walked away! I could have said it was someone else's problem, like you always do! But I didn't! I saved your lives! WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT! WOULD YOU RATHER BE DEAD?"

"Carrie, you must calm-"

"YOU! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Kelly staggers backwards as though I had punched him in the face. There's a gasp in the crowd. "AND LISTEN! JUST! FOR! ONCE! IN! YOUR! GODDAMN! LIFE!"

I didn't realize my voice could get that high. Fascinating.

"Yeah, people got hurt. Yeah, buildings were destroyed. Yeah, some people died. But you know who did that? Oh yeah – the villains! The psychopaths you imbeciles are now employing to protect you! How STUPID can you GET? WHAT ABOUT THIS SITUATION MAKES YOU THINK THEY'RE NOT GOING TO TURN AROUND AND KILL YOU BECAUSE THAT'S THEY'RE IDEA OF FUN?"

I shake my head. I'm breathing so heavily my lungs hurt with effort. "That's your problem. You all hate the truth. You're in love with lies. You can shape lies. It gives you the illusion that you're in control. That your stupid fuckups are someone else's fault. That someone else was twisting you and using you and bullying you, so every retarded thing you've done is somehow justified. Then you can pretend that all the suffering your causing doesn't exist. You throw blame around to everyone. Everyone but you. It makes you so easy to control you can't even see it."

I take a shuddering breath and blink hard. I can barely see.

"Well here's the truth. Are you ready for this? Are you ready? It was you. Every dark thought, every betrayal, every backstab, it was all you. Fuck – even some of these supervillains who terrorize you wouldn't even exist if not for your betrayals. Dr. Doom is still in charge of his country. Norman Osborn threw a teenaged girl of a bridge and he's still at large. The Abomination destroyed a hospital – with everyone still inside. Why are they still around?

Because you make it so easy."

I've stopped crying.

"YOUR BIGOTRY MAKES IT SO EASY FOR THEM! YOUR STUPIDITY BLINDS YOU TO THE OBVIOUS! YOU'RE SO DESPERATE TO FEEL SAFE AT THE EXPENSE OF THE PEOPLE FIGHTING FOR YOU THAT YOU'LL ACCEPT WHATEVER BULLSHIT YOU'RE FED!"

"Ever heard the phrase 'like lambs to the slaughter?' That's you. Except you don't have the innocence the lambs do. You walk straight into it with this sense of entitlement, like you deserve to be saved although you've treated them like shit and are going to throw it right back in their faces the minute you're on steady ground."

Heeeeeere's your sign.

Some part of me is waiting in the back of my mind for some smooth, slimy justification for everything, for someone to scream about how stupid I'm being. For someone to lecture me on how 'childishly naive' I'm being, and how I need to be more 'careful' when dealing with 'freaks'.

"You've all walked right into their traps like blind boars, and blame someone else with it blows up in your face. You've played a stupid game that didn't need to be played, that cost hundreds—thousands of lives that we can't get back. And what did we get out of it? A bunch of genuine heroes rotting in a hole somewhere, and you'll be joining him the minute those villains get their collars off. What was it all for, then? What did they all die for, what did Bobbydie for? How the hell is this a victory, Kelly, WHERE'S THE JUSTICE YOU GUYS WERE JABBERING ABOUT?"

God, that was a terrible way to say it. But wasn't it true?

"You make me sick. All of you." My hands are shaking. "You call this justice, but all I see is this sense of entitlement, that you've suffered something bad but that makes you 'different' so you can just do whatever. You the worst bunch of COWARDLY TRAITORS I'll ever meet!"

Roger said I was deluding myself when I said that people would eventually realize that we needed help. I hadn't believed him. Not until now, anyway.

The silence is driving me nuts. I used to hate having to listen to them spew their mindless garbage but their silence is making me even more angry. It's kind of funny.

"Why the hell am I wasting my breath? You've never listened before, why would you start now? That's the only way I can think of as to how you could let all those people die for nothing, and all those people who are still alive suffer...how you could torture Kitty by make her watch Bobby die...hmph, their crying must've been annoying to you, too."

I probably took a risk bringing that up. But things are never going to get better around here, so does it really matter? The Green fucking Goblin and the Kingpin hate my guts. I've lost my ability to be scared of these people.

"I still can't understand why you would lock them up."

these are the same people who threw bricks at Osborn to help Spider-Man save MJ. They understood then. Why? Why now?

"Unless you've got this idea that this somehow justifies everything."

Just like Vince. Was he really convinced that killing could help us escape our hell, or was that just an attempt to ward off the guilt muddling his final moments?

"But if that's the way you want it...you wanna die that badly..."

I let out a torturous stream of curses before saying,

"THEN BE MY GUEST, DIRTBAG! You always had to have it your own backassward way anyhow! I hope this was fucking worth it! I hope it'll be the best fucking thing that's ever happened in your life, that you heads implode in sheer happiness, ya goddamn selfish spoiled motherfucking prick prick PRICK! I hope you all FUCKING DIE!"

Just as quickly as I blew up I calmed down.

I let out a small sob, completely spent. I stare out at the silent courtroom. Dozens of faces staring blankly at me. Their looks of incomprehension, shock, and maybe something else. Or maybe that was just my imagination, trying to find regret where none existed.

"Thank you for your time." The sarcasm. I almost forgot the endless sarcasm.

I gave a curt half bow before storming out of the courtroom. No one tries to stop me, although I'd expected to be dragged back for cross examination or thrown in jail for contempt for the court. Everyone gives me a wide berth. I can read their faces as they watch me go by.

They're afraid of me.

They'll never accept us.

Really?

They'll see trouble where it doesn't exist if they think we pose a danger to them.

A twelve year old girl with no powers. And they're afraid of me.

Even if it costs us our lives.

I shove past the doors and out onto the streets.

I think next time I'll be taking my chances with Loki. At least then I know what to expect.

End Chapter

I actually have a haphazard story plan for a rewritten Marvel Universe (because I hate a lot of the stuff connected to Marvel Universe). Mainly, I would involve a few Skull retcons. However, I think this can stand on its own. I hope everyone else who hates the Marvel citizens find this as cathartic as I did!

Read and Review please!