Chapter One: An Unexpected Broadcast

Jessica Hastings took the playing cards out of her pocket and slowly shuffled through them. Nick had told her that the red splattered all over the flat, smiling faces was paint, and not actually blood. The spots were too bright anyway—still glaring shades of crimson—to be blood, which would have been a dull, rusty maroon by now. But even if it was just paint on the cards, they still caused her heart to ache as if someone had just pummeled it with a hammer.

Uncle Phil loved these cards, she thought sadly. She had found the crowning piece of his collection, the vintage Captain America card, and given it to him on his birthday two years ago. He had been like a kid a Christmas, showing everyone around the table the old card with the slightly boxed edges, his blue eyes bright and beaming. It hadn't been hard for her to find those cards, not when she antiques were her daily business in addition to art repairs.

But Jessica hadn't found the Captain America playing card in the usual places like garage sales, auctions and estate sales. She had been complaining to Peggy about trying to find the stupid card for Phil, when with a coy smile on her face, Peggy had unlocked her desk drawer, rifled through a few folders, and handed her the card without any sort of explanation. Of course Jessica knew that Peggy had been alive during World War II—she had been a special agent fighting in the French Resistance. But Jessica was absolutely floored that Peggy had any sort of Captain America memorabilia. Peggy was just so English, so prim and proper.

The teakettle screeched behind her, making Jessica jump and nearly drop the cards onto the kitchen floor. Carefully, she shoved them back into her pocket, took the stainless steel kettle off the stove and poured the steaming water into two white mugs. The smell of good, Darjeeling wafted up with the steam, making Jessica sigh happily.

"Daydreaming again?" Peggy teased, shuffling into the room. "The kettle was howling for nearly two minutes."

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Jessica said, taking in Peggy's slightly shaking legs. "Go sit in the living room. I'll bring you the tea in there."

Peggy pursed her lips disapprovingly, but she still went and sat on the sofa. Summer sunlight streamed through the tall windows, making Peggy's hair shine platinum and her brown eyes a warmer shade of chocolaty brown. Jessica had to admit that even though Peggy was ninety-six years old, you could still see that she had been a very beautiful woman; it was the bone structure beneath the crinkled skin that hadn't changed. But despite her faded beauty, Peggy was still alone, except for Jessica, and things weren't getting easier for her.

"I picked up some muffins at the bakery," Jessica said, bringing in a tea tray filled with all of Peggy's favorites.

"Trying to fatten me up?"

"I don't think it's even possible for you to be fat," Jessica retorted, gently handing Peggy the warm cup and saucer.

"Ah," Peggy sighed after a small, careful sip. "You do know how to make good tea, even if you are an American."

"You're the one who taught me." Jessica took a seat next to Peggy on the couch, propping her feet up onto the low coffee table.

Smiling, over the rim of her mug, Jessica remembered how she had at first been horrified of Peggy. One of the kids on the block had said that Peggy was a witch who liked to eat little children. Why else would an old woman live alone in such a large house? And why were there always strange people coming and going at all hours of the day and night?

Then one fall afternoon Jessica had fallen off of her bike, right in front of the old Cape Cod house, and had twisted her ankle. It was either crawling home or wailing loudly enough for someone to hear her and help. Jessica, not a fan of discomfort or crawling with a scraped knee, had taken to crying on the curb, until Peggy had rushed out of the house.

"Oh stop crying," she had said kindly but firmly. "It's just a sprain; nothing's broken. Now just come inside and I'll get you all cleaned up."

Horrified and expecting to see the remains of past victims, Jessica had found a cozy but large house instead. Peggy had had a standard black poodle, just like Winston Churchill, Peggy had told her shooing the creature away. Instead of fingers or eyes in the cupboard, Peggy had all of the ordinary boxed food, including shortbread cookies and Neosporin.

And after that day, Jessica had found herself coming to the white fence of Peggy's house, until it had become second nature, until Jessica was actually at Peggy's house more than she was at home.

"So, do you think Cosmos is actually dead this time?" Jessica asked, referring to the soap opera that they watched every afternoon when Jessica wasn't working.

"Oh he's most certainly alive. He's too handsome to kill off, and they still haven't found out if he's Charity's father or not."

"But didn't he have an evil twin or something? He could take his place," Jessica mused, looking for the television remote. "And I thought that Richard was Charity's father."

"Please," Peggy said, rolling her eyes. "Alicia has been cheating on Richard since the start."

"Point taken," Jessica said, finally finding the remote beneath the pages of a half-read book on the coffee table. "When did you start reading French poems?" she asked, looking at the gilded spine.

Peggy blushed and took a sip of her tea. "I've always been rather fond of Hugo, you know. He didn't always write about hunchbacks and thieves. His poetry is actually rather moving, if a little sad."

Nodding but disinterested, Jessica sat the book back down on the coffee table and turned the TV on.

Instead of their usual badly lit soap, chaos exploded across the screen. Reporters were yelling and dashing down the streets of New York, as the ticker tape urgently tried to convey the emergency.

"Oh my God," Jessica whispered, turning up the volume.

A cop car was obliterated by a flying chariot of some sort, by something that didn't look to be human at all.

"I'm sure that Fury has something to do with this," Peggy whispered.

"Fury? What on earth would he have to do with those things?" Jessica asked, still horrified to see people running out of buildings. "He's supposed to protect people—not obliterate half of Manhattan."

Rubble exploded and hurtled to the ground. Dust hung heavy in the air, coating everything with ash. Over the voice of the reporter, the screams continued.

"All we know is that New York is under attack," the journalist said urgently. "We have heard from the police that a team known as the Avengers is helping to tackle this invasion, but we're not sure about the details. Civilians are still trapped in buildings. The safest place to go is the subway—and just get out of the city."

The camera panned away from her frantic face to several people who seemed to be fighting the aliens. There was a woman dressed in black, and a man dressed in a red, white and blue suit wielding a round shield of some sort.

"Is that—" Jessica began to ask.

Peggy's teacup shattered as it hit the coffee table, tea spilling all over the pages.

"Peggy?" Jessica asked worriedly, spinning away from the television.

Peggy was shaking. Her eyes were wide, and uneven. She didn't seem to be able to raise her arm. And suddenly the right side of her mouth began to droop, as her words became slurred and desperate.

"Oh God," Jessica moaned, horrified, as she reached for her cell phone. "Hello? Yes, I have a ninety-six year old woman having a stroke. We're at 200 Hawthorne Ave."

But the moment Jessica hung up, Peggy gasped.

"St-St-Steve," she managed to say, her hand searching for Jessica's.

"Steve?" Jessica asked, kneeling before her. "Who's Steve, Peggy? Peggy stay with me, the paramedics are coming. Peggy can you hear me?"

Peggy didn't answer. Gasping, as Jessica clutched her hands, her eyes rolled back and closed. Her breathing stopped suddenly.

"Peggy," Jessica shouted, over the noises blaring from the television. "Peggy!"

But no matter how hard Jessica shook Peggy's frail body or shouted her name, she didn't answer. Nor did she stir as the paramedics came into the house.

Just like Phil, she was gone in an instant.