The Flame (Avengers Fanfiction)

77-A BOY IS A GUN*

1987

Lilith watched as her mentally distraught father carried the baby carrier to the steps of the large Catholic church. Their mother had been dead for four days and it was obvious that their dad was extremely sad about it.

And now he was abandoning the child that was supposed to carry on their family line.

Kenna was crying, sniffling as she held onto Kai's hand. They both kept asking about where their mother was. Aiden's tears were still drying on his cheeks. The younger three were still so very upset about the sudden death of their mother, but not Lilith. She knew Elda had to die in order for their family line to continue. She just didn't want the line to continue with the small child that was currently being left outside of the church.

Little Peyton Annemarie Bennett. That was the name scrawled on the paper that was safety pinned to the infant's blanket. That was Lilith's mother's last name, not her father's. His last name was Hernandez, but none of the children had his last name. To Elda, all her husband was only a sperm donor and a bank. But he had loved Elda so much. She had him under a trance and when Elda died, it broke him.

Their father got back into car, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he tried to control his breathing. Lilith turned her head to glare at the infant in her little pink and beige baby carrier. The ten year old wanted to be the one to carry on their family line. She wanted to be the strongest, but Lilith knew that was going to be left to that damn baby.

As they pulled away from the curb, Lilith hoped that the baby died. She rather have the family line end with her than continue with that child. As her siblings cried and asked where the baby was, as her father screamed back at them to shut up, Lilith prayed to Satan himself that the baby would die.

Her prayers failed.

Three hours later, her father blew his head off with the family shotgun and Lilith called the police as Kenna cried over the loud noise.

-

I am destined to do terrible, horrifying things. I was supposed to be able to take down governments, was supposed to be able to take over the damn world. Hypothetically, since I had killed my siblings, I should be able to kill my dear sister. However, she apparently got half of the three assholes's power. Because of this, the Book listed a few things I needed to do in order to regain the power and save the world blah blah blah.

There was a whole ceremony when it came to diving completely into my power. Only one of my ancestors had even tried to do the ceremony. My many great grandmother Sarah had a very jealous sister named Serena. Serena wanted what Sarah had and tried to perform the ceremony. Serena wasn't supposed to carry on the family line, so she didn't have the power needed to carry out said ceremony so she was torn apart by hell hounds.

I shit you not, that's what the book said. Lucifer was so fucking pissed at her that he sent his hounds after her. Oh, that doesn't mean that this process won't hurt me. It just means that I have a smaller chance at getting hurt or killed. But, it's really the only way I can take out my sister without causing the end of the world. Isn't that lovely?

I had to do a few things. I had to get this fucking sword that Lucifer has gifted Emmeline so she could kill some holy men. The sword was supposed to be a bastardized version of the flaming sword the angel Uriel yielded as he stood in front of the gates of Eden after Adam and Eve got evicted. Then, I had to perform the ceremony of the Seven Deadly Sins in order to show Lucifer himself that I was deserving of his power. What does that mean, you may be asking. Well, that means I have to commit each of the seven deadly sins in an offering for Satan.

Yeah, I know it sounds fucking insane, okay? I had even summoned Elda to make sure it all wasn't a fucking joke and lucky me, it wasn't.

"Mrs Stark-Rogers, are you sure this a good idea?" Peter questions as he sits in the passenger seat next to me. I fixed the black wig I was wearing before making last touch ups to my bright red lip stick. We were currently parked outside an extremely fancy and highly protected museum somewhere in France. Since I had confessed to the team, we had been hard at work, getting ready to take out the wicked bitch of the east. Training, researching, you know-the usual.