Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers or any of the characters therein.

It was quiet.

Hel glanced around the corner, grinning and concentrating on the air. The night was getting cooler by the second and Hel knew her powers were manifesting. Time to hunt, she thought excitedly.

Lunging around the corner, she sprinted through the night, her feet barely touching the ground. It had been 6 years since the cravings had set in, and Hel had learned to control herself – and cover her tracks, frighteningly well. It was a matter of the story. She needed to create a good story to satisfy the cops.

There were times when she used to question her nature. Why she was the way she was. She grew up with human parents in a human household, eating human food, going to school with humans. Of course, she wasn't much liked by other humans once puberty hit. She developed early – and more striking than the physical developments was her mental cognition. She started to speed through course material and found herself finishing high school at 15. She had turned 20 this year, and was awarded her double doctorate two months before her birthday. Being 16 and sitting in university lectures had not played a good card for her ability to make friends. Hel's best friend was her golden retriever whom she had named Thor – it was a pun, because he shared the demi-god's golden hair and thunderous voice, and she herself had the name of a Norse goddess.

That fact in and of itself had gotten to her. Her real parents, whoever they were, had named her after the Norse goddess of winter and death. Had they known she would become a deliverer of murder?

Hel didn't know anything about her real parentage. That was, perhaps, the reason for her bitterness. They had abandoned her, rejected her. Allowed her to be ignorant for most of her life. She was still unsure about her actual nature – what her abilities meant, and why she had them. More than anything, she was alone. And she felt absolutely, terrifyingly evil. Beyond help.

Hel heard footsteps and froze. A slow, hungry smile began to play at her lips, and her fangs protruded. Then she was gone from that spot and she was holding a horrified man up against the wall.

Oh god, what is she doing? She moved so fast... didn't even hear her… her teeth… oh please no… is this the Angel of Death? Punishing me for my sins?

Hel saw the slideshow of images in his mind, all the women and girls he'd forced himself on and she was repulsed. His blood smelled contaminated to her all of a sudden. But her stomach clenched and her veins screamed. She stared into his tired grey eyes and began speaking in a charming voice dripping seduction – the voice of glamour. "Justin, my name is Hel. I'm a friend. I'm going to help you. Everything is going to be okay."

The man nodded. He did not seem fazed by the fact that she knew his name. His eyes had glazed over and he relaxed in her arms.

She sank her fangs into his jugular and drank.

She coated the holes with her saliva and watched as they healed. Then she tossed his body off the bridge, wiped her hands on her jeans, and strolled down to the beach.

She wouldn't feel the need for at least two days. A full body's supply assured that.

Sighing, she sat down in the white sand a few feet away from where the foamy waves were stroking the shore, like a lover reassuring his distressed mistress.

If she had been any regular human being, she wouldn't have heard the footsteps, but she did and her head snapped up.

A man was standing about 500 metres down the beach. Wearing a black trench coat and an eye patch.

Hel's eyes widened a fraction. Oh shit. Why is Fury here? I've stayed under the radar. S.H.I.E.L.D. shouldn't have a problem with me.

She considered running. There was no way he'd be able to catch her if she ran, but she didn't really enjoy the concept of having to spend her life running.

"Don't run," his voice called.

I guess he noticed my fidgeting, Hel mused. She shrugged slightly and crossed her arms, getting to her feet and staring out at the waves.

"What do you want?" she called back, her voice calm and collected despite the floundering chaos inside her.

"Just to talk," he replied. She saw his figure out of the corner of her eye making its way down the beach to her.

Hel raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Feeling the chill of the night now, she wished she'd worn something more practical than the skimpy blue tank top. She brought her hands together and closed her eyes. Bringing forth the fire, she opened her eyes and saw the flames licking at her bare arms, as if coming out of her pores. She pointed a finger in front of her and lit the stack of dry wood someone had left there, presumably a potential campfire. It lit nicely, and Hel crouched down to warm her hands.

"Impressive," Nick Fury stated, now standing a few feet away from her.

Hel shrugged. There were not many people she would show her elementals to. Knowing Fury, he already had an entire folder dedicated to exploring every ability and disability she had, though, including a few she probably didn't even know about herself.

"Are you here to kill me? Is that what 'talk' is code for now?" Hel asked, only half-joking.

Fury smiled bitterly. "I'm here to offer you a job."

Hel blinked incredulously. Then she giggled. "A job?"

Fury stared at her, no sign of a prank on his features. "A position at S.H.I.E.L.D., yes."

Hel stared back, hopelessly lost. "But why?"

Fury smiled at her confusion, and crossed his arms. "You do have a double doctorate, correct? Criminal psychology and chemical forensics?"

Hel snorted. "Since when does S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit based on scholastic achievements?"

Fury sighed. "You were number 1 in your class of graduates, yet you turned down being valedictorian upon graduation. Number 1… while you were as much as 6 years younger than your average peer."

Hel shrugged. There wasn't anything to say about that. She liked information. People – not so much.

"And then there's your … power."

He'd said it, finally. Hel smiled at him across the fire, a smile to chill the goddess of winter herself.

"Power? That's what you call it?" she asked, a curious tone to her voice.

"I know who your parents are," he said, not taking his eyes off her.

Hel's smile froze and she trembled. Swallowing, she tried to look anywhere but at the man sitting near her. Her fingers played with her long hair – the color at the tips matched the flames in front of her; at the top of her roots, her hair was dark mahogany, slowly fading to blood red, which was the main color, and ending with a burnt golden colour.

"There are others, others who do not fit in. They have been burdened with gifts just like yours."

"I always thought of it as more of a curse," Hel joked weakly.

"We'll see," Fury said with a note of determination in his voice.

"But I'm not good, Fury," Hel replied, not wanting to give in. She felt herself crashing, wanting to lean into what he was saying, wanting to believe that she could be good.

"We'll see about that, too," Nick Fury replied. "And that's Director Fury to you, Agent," he added with a smile.

Agent, Hel thought. Wow. And slowly she smiled back.