Wither Wings (An Avengers Crossover)

Phase 1: The Safe House

This is a rewrite of my popular fanfiction, Wither Wings. It is a crossover between Marvel Comics (focusing on the Avengers) and Maximum Ride. You don't need to know about Maximum Ride to enjoy this story, but it makes it all the more interesting. Some important information:

-This completely disregards canon after book 3. Nothing in the Final Warning, situations with Dylan, or crazy shit with the apocalypse happened.

-Max is around 15/16 but, as always, looks older.

-This will feature Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, and SHIELD heavily. Other characters will pop in for a scene or two, including (but not limited to) Rhodey, Pepper, Bruce, Thor, Jane, Darcy, Ian the Intern, Phil Coulson, Clint, and the Director.

-No, I am not updating Avians and Arachnids at this time. Hold your horses, it will all come in due time.

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Pearson hadn't been trained in what to do if someone knocked on the door.

In all of his years of SHIELD training, he still grasped at straws whenever a crisis arose. Steve Rogers, he was not. At the ripe age of 26, Pearson had graduated from the SHIELD Academy later than he should have with a lower grade than anyone should be allowed. Pearson was considered, largely by his own teammates, to be the unofficial mascot. He took care of everyone when the time called for it. Need a band-aid? Pearson. Want a home-cooked meal? Pearson. His official title was supervisory personnel, but everyone ended up calling him Mom.

The light on the top of the coffee machine clinked softly in the half-light of the safe house.

"Pearson," Agent Steele, a slim woman with a buzzcut that showed off her crescent-shaped scar, motioned towards the coffee maker with a gloved hand. "Coffee's done."

Pearson peeked up from the stack of case files he was studying and stood from his chair. Wooden boards that lined the floor of the safe house creaked as he crossed the room and pulled three chipped mugs from a cabinet with rusting knobs. A biting breeze whistled through the cracks in the walls and Pearson tightened his grip on the pot's handle. He poured the coffee into mugs and set them on the card table in the center of the kitchen.

"Thanks Mom," said Agent Casias from his seat near the window. He reached back for the coffee and took a sip before returning to look out the binoculars he was tasked to hold a week ago. Casias grimaced, the light beginnings of a beard brushing against his lower lip. "Black again?"

Pearson returned to his seat and pulled the paper contents out of a manila envelope. "We're almost out of sugar and supplies won't be arriving for another week."

Casias's cup made a light sound as it clinked against the edge of the card table. He shifted his seat so he could better see out the window and looked through the binoculars with a sour expression.

Steele suppressed laughter as she brought her cup to her lips. Her voice was low and tough, like she had sandpaper for a tongue. "What a walnut. Just drink the coffee, Casias. It ain't gonna hurt you."

Casias stuck his tongue out at Steele and fiddle with the zoom controls so he could focus better.

"Very professional," Pearson said with a small grin. Steele was practically in hysterics.

"Yeah, you're one to talk, Pearson," Casias retorted. He grabbed the binoculars with force and brought them to his eyes, muttering about taste buds and sweeteners.

It was raining outside the safe house, which was little more than a cabin in a forest God-knows-where. Trees held together the sides of the two bedroom house like Lincoln logs and a covering of pine needles made the structure nearly invisible from afar. The agents were watching the area for any suspicious movement, but Pearson wasn't exactly sure what that entailed. The case files he was pouring over mentioned a medical research facility ten miles to the north, but it had been abandoned years ago.