Chapter Text
Skye knew her superheroes. That was basically her thing.
Sure, she was a great hacker, but that was a skill. She had trained through several years and was very proud of what she could do, but her specialty was superheroes, and how they presented themselves. It was a way of coping with a life full of the system failing her, to cling to individuals who were strong enough to actually help others and get things done.
When Tony Stark uttered the words “I am Iron Man,” that was what truly started her quest to be that person, that individual, who could change the world for the better. She didn’t have Tony Stark’s money, or media presence or materials, but she had skills. And in this day and age, you didn’t need any of the former, but if you had the latter, all that was actually necessary was an internet connection.
Of course, now she had powers. And Phil Coulson wanted to provide the means.
Which meant they came back to the fact that Skye knew her superheroes.
“Absolutely not,” she said.
“It’s the most logical starting point…”
“The people on the Index have already been contacted and assessed by SHIELD. The ones who are powerful enough to join this kind of task force has either been disappeared, run away, or are on the very, very public Avengers. Remember our deal?”
“Yes, but what you’re suggesting is taking people who have been in the news several times, and I don’t see how that is any better.”
“Have you not noticed the amount of powered people crawling out of the woodwork in the last couple of months? There doesn’t seem to be any stop to them. If a couple of people stop superheroing after only being in the wind for a few weeks, people aren’t going to notice, because someone else will step into the limelight.”
There was a tapping of a pen. Coulson liked the physical stuff, even though they were standing in front of a 3D projecter. He swiped away the files from the Index and turned to Skye. “So, where do you want to start?”
She smiled, cracked her fingers, and started doing what she did best.
Finding heroes.
The first one was pretty straight forward. A woman was running around down in Jersey dressed up in red, blue and yellow, and being pretty obvious about her activities.
(And why was it always New York? It was great for an effective mission, she barely had to travel to find most of her candidates, but why did the flashy ones always pick New York? Okay, stupid question.)
Stopping random robberies or assaults, saving drunk people from drowning, the whole thing screamed inexperienced and unorganized. Seriously, Skye had looked at her appearances both geographically and time-wise and had locked down a quite tight radius of where this person frequently spent her time and/or lived.
So. Back-alley, lure unsavory guys in, scream until she was sore in her throat for help, and Ms. Marvel appeared.
It took a couple of alleys, a couple of days, a couple of unconscious guys, and a very concerned young man trying to convince her to call the police, after she convinced him that she managed to knock out three guys with only a small handbag, before Ms. Marvel appeared.
The woman basically ran between Skye and the other guys, raised her suddenly very large fists and said “You don’t want to do this.” And the guys decided that, no, they really didn’t.
The woman, no, the young girl turned around with her concerned eyes very visible through the mask. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, thank you so much. You’re Ms. Marvel, aren’t you? I like the costume. Very striking.”
“You do?” Her entire face lit up, and really? How old was this kid? Fifteen? Not older than sixteen, for sure. “I made it myself.”
“Well it looks good. Hey, kid can I ask you a question?”
She looked a bit unsure. “I… um,” she glanced out of the alley, in the direction of what Skye was pretty sure was the local high school.
“I’m not going to hold up your time for long, but I’m an agent of SHIELD. Not the the evil nazi kind,” she added when she saw Ms. Marvel’s distressed face. “I was originally planning to recruit you, but you look kind of young, so it might just be best if I asked you how you got your powers.”
“You… you were going to recruit me? Oh my god, it’s like my fic about how Clint Barton became Hawkeye, only it’s real, and it’s me , and I’m not too young, what are you talking about, I am an adult…”
“If you’re even in senior year, I’ll eat my socks. Wait.” Fic about Clint Barton becoming Hawkeye. “Are you mrsthor99?”
The sixteen year old superhero looked mortified and excited. Teenage girls could hold a lot of emotions at the same time. “How did you know that?! And, ah, I was twelve when I made that profile, okay?”
Skye kind of wanted to cuddle the girl into herself, because it was her, ten years ago (well seven years ago, she had other worries ten years ago). “Kid, I was moderator at a couple of forums until two years ago, under ToniStark.” And she still browsed them these days. Just for intel. And some good fics. The girl in front of her regularly updated with cute fluff, and sometimes, when the world had gone to shit, and your father didn’t remember you, and your mother was dead because she tried to suck the life force out of you, it was nice reading about the avengers arguing over a toaster.
“Really?” Was she bouncing? “And you work for SHIELD?”
“Really. So, how did you get your powers?” Please don’t say evil scientist. Or science in general, because this girl seemed so emotionally well adjusted and happy and normal, despite the costume, that Skye wanted to punch anyone thinking of laying a hand on her.
“Ah,” she said, and looked down at her feet. “iateabadfish,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“I ate a bad fish. Or, well, everyone ate the same fish and got sick, but I kind of didn’t, because I had this weird dream instead of puking and woke up with superpowers.”
“Fish. Huh.”
“Do you belive me?”
“Sure. Weirder things have happened.” Skye reached into her pocket, found some pen and paper and scribbled down some numbers. “Here. If you ever get into trouble where the police are not going to help, call here.”
Ms Marvel took the piece of paper reverently. “Is this yours?”
“Among others. Take care Ms. Marvel. Loving the name, by the way. Where did you come up with it?”
The girl was already backing away, which was understandable, lunch break had probably ended ten minutes ago. “Ah, there’s this air force captain, Carol Danvers, who’s broken all these records, no matter what gender, both in a plane, and rising in ranks, and she’s got this nickname, Captain Marvel, and she’s just,” she shrugged. “Yeah. I had to spell the Ms. part out to a journalist who shouted for a name, but I like it.”
Skye nodded. “Keep it up then. Who knows, maybe someone will be writing fanfiction about you and your adventures in not too long.”
The smile stayed with her for the rest of the day, as she planned how to approach her next target. New York’s new menace, Spider-Man.