A New Member
Fury entered the Avengers Compound, his boots echoing off the polished floor as he made his way into the central briefing room. The team was already gathered—Tony lounging with a drink in hand, Bucky and Steve standing shoulder to shoulder like old soldiers awaiting orders, Bruce half-absorbed in his tablet, Nat and Clint sharing a quiet exchange, Wanda beside Vision, Sam leaning against the wall, and the Asgardians—Thor and Loki—both standing a few paces apart, the latter wearing his usual unreadable smirk.
“Alright, everyone,” Fury began, his voice cutting through the hum of conversation like a blade. “Time to sit down and get to business.”
He waited until even Tony set his glass down, then activated the screen behind him. Grainy photos appeared—shadows, bodies, scorched sigils. “There’s some kind of monster terrorizing New York. Looks like a ritual sacrifice of some sort. Several bodies have been found half-eaten by a beast we can’t identify. Within a block or so of every attack, there’s a site marked with a ritual circle—candles, burned herbs, salt. Authorities are stumped and requested our help.”
Steve’s jaw tightened. “When do we start?”
“When my consultant says you’re ready,” Fury replied evenly.
That got the room’s attention.
“Consultant?” Tony arched a brow. “You mean like an intern with incense or something?”
“No,” Fury said, his tone dropping like lead. “I mean a contract agent who has more experience dealing with things like this than anyone else in this room.”
Bucky snorted. “You think she’s got more experience than Steve and me?”
Fury turned to him, unimpressed. “I know she does.”
He dropped a thick file onto the table with a heavy thud. The sheer volume of papers made even Tony raise an eyebrow. “That,” Fury said, “is the redacted version of her file. She’s been operating longer than either of you have been alive, Sgt. Barnes. I have documentation and photographs dating back to the Civil War.”
Bruce looked up sharply from his tablet. “Wait—are you saying your consultant is over two hundred and fifty years old?”
Fury gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I’m saying I don’t know how old she is. She’s never told me—and frankly, I don’t need to know. What I do know is that she’s the best at what she does. She’s saved my ass more times than I can count, and she’s the only person I’d trust to handle something like this.”
There was a moment of silence as that sank in.
Nat leaned forward slightly, her expression thoughtful. “That’s a hell of an endorsement coming from you.”
Fury’s eye narrowed. “She’s earned it. She doesn’t just get results—she delivers them. Every damn time.”
Loki tilted his head, intrigued. “And what sort of creature is she to have lived through centuries and still command the Director’s faith?”
Fury gave a tight smile. “You’ll find out soon enough, Loki. She’ll be here within the hour.”
Tony clapped his hands once, smirking. “Fantastic. A mystery immortal monster-hunter joins the team. What could possibly go wrong?”
Thor grinned broadly. “If she has truly seen the wars of men and beasts alike, then she will be a warrior worth meeting!”
Wanda’s eyes flicked to the images still glowing on the screen. “If the deaths are part of a ritual, then whoever summoned this thing may still be out there.”
“Exactly,” Fury said. “Which is why I called you all in. When she arrives, you listen. She knows what she’s doing—and you’ll follow her lead.”
He looked around the room, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “I trust her implicitly. She’s proven herself time and again, both in and out of S.H.I.E.L.D. When she says something—believe it.”
Loki’s gaze lingered on the images of the ritual circles, a flicker of recognition crossing his expression. “Hmm. This should be… interesting.”
Fury turned toward the door, his voice gravelly as he threw one last look over his shoulder.
“She’s survived monsters older than this world, and if we’re lucky—she’ll help us survive this one too.”
A low, amused voice floated from the far corner of the room.
“Now, Fury, you know it’s bad manners to ask a lady her age.”
Every Avenger turned sharply toward the sound.
There—half in shadow—stood a woman who most certainly hadn’t been there a moment ago. The corner held no door, no window—just solid wall. Yet she leaned there as if she’d been part of the room all along, perfectly composed.
She looked like she could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty—ageless in that unsettling way some people are. Her hair fell in a mahogany wave over one shoulder, framing sharp forest-green eyes that glinted with quiet amusement. Her pale skin caught the sterile light, the contrast making her seem almost unreal. She wore tailored black slacks that flared elegantly over heeled boots and a white satin blouse that shimmered faintly when she moved.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then Tony shot to his feet, his chair skidding back.
“How the hell did you get in here?” he demanded, pointing.
The woman smirked faintly and lifted one hand, gesturing toward the ceiling. A single tile was slightly ajar—barely enough to notice, but proof she’d come from above.
Nat let out a low whistle. “You crawled through that in heels?” Her gaze flicked from the woman’s shoes to her face. “And we didn’t hear a sound. Not bad.”
The stranger’s lips curved in amusement. “You’d be surprised what you can do when the stakes are high enough.” Her tone was smooth, unhurried—British accent softened by time, or travel, or both.
Bucky frowned. “That’s impossible. We’ve got motion sensors, thermal readings, sealed access points—”
“Which she bypassed,” Fury interjected, arms crossed, his voice edged with satisfaction. “Told you she was the best.”
The woman cast him a sidelong glance, equal parts teasing and appreciative. “You do know how to make an entrance for me, Director.”
He grunted. “You made your own.”
From the back of the room, Loki tilted his head, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he studied her. “You’re no mortal,” he said finally, voice low, curious. “But not quite divine either. What are you, exactly?”
Her gaze flicked toward him—steady, cool, assessing. “A question for another time, Prince of Lies.”
The faintest twitch ghosted across his lips. Whether it was irritation or intrigue, none could tell.
Tony muttered under his breath, “Fantastic. Another one who talks in riddles. We’re collecting them now.”
Clint leaned toward Sam. “At least this one’s polite.”
“Alright, enough,” Fury snapped, his patience thinning. “Everyone, meet the consultant I told you about—Agent Ravanna O’Branagh. She’s been with S.H.I.E.L.D. longer than most of you have been alive. And before anyone asks, yes, I trust her completely.”
The woman inclined her head slightly toward the table. “Pleasure to meet you all. I hear we’ve got a monster problem.”
Bruce exhaled slowly. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Then let’s get started,” she said simply, stepping forward, her heels clicking smartly against the floor as if to remind them all that she belonged here. The air seemed to shift around her—just enough for Wanda to glance up sharply, as if she’d felt something old stir.
Fury’s voice broke through the murmuring as the team settled uneasily around the table. “You’ve got your orders. She’s in charge until I say otherwise.” He turned toward Ravanna. “Try not to break them too badly, Ravanna.”
Her lips curved faintly, but there was no warmth in it. “No promises, Director.”
“Didn’t think so.” Fury smirked, then glanced at the others. “Play nice. She’s here to keep you alive.” With that, he strode out of the room, the door hissing shut behind him.
A tense silence fell.
Ravanna folded her hands on the table, her gaze sweeping over the team like she was cataloging each of them—their posture, their weapons, their tells. “Ah, I see,” she said at last, voice calm and measured. “I realize I’m the outsider here. However, we just have to work together long enough to figure out what is killing these women.”
Wanda’s tone was quiet but wary. “Fury said you’ll train us—and decide when we can hunt the creature. Why?”
Vision’s head tilted slightly, his tone analytical. “Yes. What knowledge or skills do you possess that will elevate our own?”
Ravanna regarded them for a long moment. Then she sat back in her chair, resting one finger against her cheek, thoughtful. “I have been hunting monsters—both human and otherwise—for a very long time. Far longer than Fury’s records go back.” Her eyes darkened, voice dipping low. “I track, I kill, and I contain. Things that go bump in the night, things that eat and wear the faces of the innocent. I find them. And I stop them.”
Her jaw tightened—a flicker of emotion, gone almost before it appeared. When she looked up again, her forest-green eyes gleamed with something ancient and unyielding. “Besides,” she added, her gaze locking on Bucky, “this won’t be the first time I’ve worked with part of this team.”
Bucky frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
Steve leaned forward, suspicion lacing his voice. “Yeah. You want to explain that?”
Ravanna’s head tilted slightly, assessing him with quiet amusement. “Tell me, Captain,” she began, her tone laced with challenge, “did you and your team ever have backup in the field during the war? A sharpshooter you never saw—who always seemed to clear the path ahead of you?”
Steve froze. Bucky’s expression mirrored his, eyes widening in disbelief.
“That… that was classified,” Steve said slowly. “How do you—”
Ravanna’s lips curved into a smirk, her eyes glinting like steel. “Of course I know about the Raven. The unseen marksman who picked off HYDRA agents before your squads even hit the ridge.”
Tony blinked. “Wait—you’re the Raven? As in the one they made conspiracy podcasts about?”
“I am,” she said simply. “And unless you’d rather argue about my qualifications all day, I suggest we get to work.”
The room went silent again—the kind of silence that meant every single one of them was recalibrating everything they thought they knew.
Steve exhaled sharply and stood. “Alright, team. You heard her. Take ten and meet in the gym.”
As the group dispersed, Loki lingered near the table, his gaze fixed on her. “The Raven,” he murmured, tasting the word. “You hide in shadows, yet you carry the weight of old power. You are not what you seem.”
Ravanna didn’t look at him as she rose, smoothing her sleeves. “Neither are you, Trickster.”
A corner of his mouth twitched—equal parts irritation and interest.
