Hello! Firstly, thank you for reading this if you are! I've always wanted to do a Marvel based FanFiction. This story will start with Captain America and work it's way through every Marvel/Avengers movie. Hopefully! I hope you enjoy this prologue and please follow, favourite and review! It would mean a lot! Happy reading!

Brooklyn, 1927

It seemed so far away looking back on it now. In 1927 I was six years old, always chasing around the seven year old Bucky and Steve, whom I insisted upon calling him 'Stevie' much to his annoyance. We played on the street care freely with jazz pouring out of windows and ladies shopping and gathering together in preparation for a night on the town drinking prohibited alcohol and smoking cigarettes like they didn't care the had to uphold a lady like facade.

The men strolled around in their suits trying to make a living so these ladies could live lavish lives although it wasn't the most ideal place to do so. After all it was Brooklyn. My mother bustled in and out of our apartment, always changing waitressing uniforms. The pink during the day and the black and white pinstripe with a red bow for the night. That one was my favourite.

My father was always arriving home late at night and leaving home early in the morning. The only time I ever saw him was weekends, and even then he had some sort of gala or lunch he had to attend. Of course, I tagged along although I never found it much fun. I'd rather be playing on the side alley of our apartment block. That's where the good stuff happened. And the not so good.

It was on that alleyway my mother told me I wasn't her actual daughter. It was right after she'd discovered the tiny scars on either side of spine and prodded and poked until a feather emerged, and then more and more until I cried out in pain at my wings unfurling. It was true though. She wasn't. Neither was my father. I was bought home though as a mere infant. I was dropped off at a hospital and a seemingly baron Helen Andrews begged Christopher to adopt. When they saw me, it was almost immediate.

It was on that alleyway my mother begged the authorities not to take me. It seems my busy father had been caught out in aiding a very wealthy and famous bootlegger and as a result my parents were deemed unfit. It was on that alleyway, I clung to Steve's arm, more afraid of leaving my friends than anything.

"Don't let them take me," I begged.

"Lottie can stay with me," Steve said defiantly to the police officer.

"Sorry son, she's gotta go," he replied and reached out an arm for me to take.

"Don't take my Charlotte please! I can raise her by myself I promise," my mum begged on her knees.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Andrews, it's out of our hands. The state decides what happens to Charlotte now." It was there I sobbed into my mothers arms, my tears staining her uniform and he tears making my head of brunette curls a salty mess.

It was the alleyway I said goodbye to my best friends. Their faces were like stone. Shocked at what had happened, what was happening. I cursed my father for bringing this fate upon me. I was lucky enough to have them and have them accepting my gift, who was to say I'd be lucky another time?

"Don't forget me," I sobbed into their shoulders.

"We could never forget you Lottie," Steve said.

"I'll come back soon." And with that I walked away from my comforting home and family and friends.

I was placed in a foster home three days later. There were more kids than I could've imagine, but I didn't want to play with any of them or interact. I was only there a week before questioned about the scars and in my mind I only had on choice. To go back home.

So, I ran away forgetting I now lived on the other side of the river and it would take me a long time to navigate my way back. Then on my travels I ran, literally, into a short man with a german accent.

"And vhere are you off to?" he asked smiling.

"Brooklyn sir, back home," I told him.

"And vhere are your parents," he continued.

"At home sir," I replied.

"Vell then, let's get you back to them," he said. He ushered me into his shiny black car. And thinking back, if it was anyone but him it could've been a rather ugly and different situation. When the familiar site of the apartment block came into view, I practically leapt out of the car and ran to it, until I saw my father and mother yelling at one another.

"Look at what you've done Christopher!" she screeched. At this every blind went up, every window opened just to get a new gossip topic to share at Saturday dinner with friends.

"I've provided for you, that's all I've ever done!" my father shot back.

"Provide with illegal money! We've lost everything, our home, our friends, our furniture possession and God forbid we lose Charlotte forever!" she finished, tears starting down her face.

"Give it a rest Helen. We're not ruined," my father replied wiping his brow.

"I might not be ruined yet, but being with you will sure as hell finish me up too. I'm leaving you and I'm going to get our daughter back."

"And where will you go?" my father retorted.

"Far from you."

I could barely breathe. Everything in my life seemed perfect a week ago and now here it was falling down as my mother and father fought, everything we owned being moved out of the apartment. The dresser, the chairs, boxes of books, my favourite one too. I was homeless, parentless and scared.

"Is thiz vhere you live?" the man asked me.

"No sir, not anymore, sorry for wasting your time," I told him. I turned away from the apartment block and walked aimlessly to no where.

"Vait, little girl," he said following after me. I stopped and looked at him hopefully. "Vhy don't I look after you?"

"You mean it?" I asked him.

"Vell yes." He said smiling. And then I remembered my scars and how he might be not as understanding as my parents.

"No, you can't."

"Charlotte dear, I know what you are," he said soothingly as he bent down to my level.

"What? How?" I blurted out confused.

"I knew your real mother, she told me to keep an eye out for you. So I have been," he replied.

"But then how do you know about my wi-"

"Your mother had them too." After this, I knew I had no choice but to go with this man. His name was Abraham Erskine and he was a doctor who specialised in developing the human body to a more superior form. He raised me himself, giving me every opportunity in life and I was grateful.

New York, 1937

I was sitting at a park bench on campus reading a magazine that highlighted the destruction that was going on in world. All of Europe seemed to be on the edge of war. Spain was in the middle of it's own civil war and who knows what, was happening with the Japanese. It was sunny and I could wait to finish my last class of the year. Summer holidays were nearly here.

A man about my age took a seat beside me and started to draw the elderly lady feeding he pigeons across from us. His hands were steady and he drew each stroke of her frail body. I looked up from his drawing and to his face. He looked awfully familiar. He must've felt me staring because in a second he looked up towards me.

"Uh, sorry," I said embarrassed and looking away, "I just thought I knew you. You look familiar to me," I told him, trying to justify my rude staring.

"That's quite alright ma'am," he replied, his blonde hair catching the sun. He shifted in his seat and his small, lanky body struggled to get comfortable.

"You're drawings are quite good by the way," I told him.

"I'd hope so, I'm a fine arts major," he responded. And then, it clicked. I knew and blonde haired, blue eyed lanky boy who loved to draw. He can't of changed that much in two years.

"Steve Rogers?" I asked, my voice hopeful.

"How did you guess that?" he asked, his gaze never drifting from his drawing.

"It's me, Charlotte Andrews," I told him. He looked up suddenly and stared.

"You said you'd come back and you never did."

"Well, you forgot me."

New York, 1939

"Abe, I'm home," I said as I burst through the front door to our apartment.

"Ah, Charlotte dear, good, you're home."

"Yes, I told you I'd be back after the movies with Steve and Bucky," I said walking into the living room. I was about to continue until I saw an army uniformed clad man and the senator sitting down and sharing coffee.

"Hello," I greeted them. "Abe, what's this?" I asked him worriedly.

"Nothing to vorry about Charlotte dear," he told me. "Charlotte, thiz is Senator Brandt and Colonel Phillips." I sat down beside him and waited for something to break the silence after the introductions.

"Dr, you never told me you had a daughter," Colonel Phillips said.

"As much as I love her, she is not mine. Her mother was my friends and after some unfortunate events, I took her in."

"Like a rescue mission," the Senator said.

"Exactly," I replied a little sourly.

"She's quite special you know. I believe you know her mother Colonel Phillips, she was a great agent in the first war, no? They're just alike."

"Another mutant?" he said, cracking a dry smile.

"Another angel," Abe told him. I smiled at that reference.

"Well we better get her in the department, shouldn't we?" the Colonel said.

"Only if she wants," Abe told him.

"You mean work on Abe's team?" I asked.

"We're trying to develop a squad of super soldiers. The Dr. here has been working on a serum for a little while and we'd like to develop it and use it on our men. With your ability, you could protect the operation from harm. You could be an agent," he finished.

"What about school?" I asked. I was only in my first year of my literature degree.

"They'll take care of it in England."

"England?" I said breaking out into a smile.

"You could leave as soon as next week."

"Well then yes. I'm all for it."

Grand Central Station, 1942

We'd officially entered the war now. It wasn't long before Bucky and Steve tried to sign up. It wasn't long before the Super Soldier operation would really begin. For the last three and a bit years she'd been training like crazy along with another girl Peggy Carter. They'd become good friends and relented being split after being together for so long. However, she'd be coming a week or two. For now, I just wanted to see the boys and Abe.

They had no clue as to what I was and what I was doing in England. I told them I'd gone to train to become a nurse incase the war hit home and now I was returning on break. They were to pick me up from the station. The train stopped soon enough at my destination and I got off the train in excitement. There they were!

"Stevie! Bucky!" I yelled as I tugged my luggage along.

"Look at you, but those english blokes had a hard tim accepting your mine," joked Bucky, his cocky and flirtatious side always one to shine.

"Nice to see you too Bucky," I told him smiling.

"It's good to have you back Lottie," Steve said as I bent down slightly to hug him.

"It's good to be back." I stood up straight once again and looked around me. Everything looks the same as when it did when I left. But somehow everything felt oddly different, but the only thing different, was me.