Five Years Ago
The class poured out in a burst of energy. Some tore off toward the tetherballs, others scrambled up the bars, while a few drifted across the blacktop, still weighing their options. Carol lagged at the back, her pace slowing as she twisted her fingers together. Around her, clusters of classmates formed with ease, their voices rising in shouts and laughter that filled the air. The sun beat down on her shoulders as she stepped hesitantly into the playground, uncertain where to go or whether anyone wanted her there.
It was always the same.
The girls huddled in small circles, giggling and trading whispers. The boys shouted across the playground, tossing balls and scrambling over the climbing bars. A few children lounged on the grass, absorbed in trinkets they had secretly brought from home. Everywhere Carol looked, someone belonged to someone else. She lingered at the edge, shuffling her feet as a tight knot coiled in her stomach. She hated recess. She should have stayed inside to colour or write in her journal. But she wanted to be seen. She wanted someone to notice her. She did not want to be forgotten.
Her eyes drifted toward Mary Johnson and a few of the other girls in class, their hair always perfectly styled, their outfits looking so effortless and cool. Why couldn’t she look like them? Carol smoothed her hands down her knee-length skirt. Her dad had refused to buy her anything new, what the other girls considered fashionable. For a moment she hugged her arms to herself, feeling the texture of her replica aviation jacket for comfort. Her brother had bought it for her when he had joined the Air Force and these days the memory was a comfort to her, but now she felt silly in it.
She swallowed hard, licking her lips, and forced herself forward.
“Hi,” she said, her voice barely steady. The girls stopped talking and looked at her, their expressions flat. Carol gestured toward Mary’s hand.
“I like your nail polish.” She didn’t, really. Green grossed her out, but her brother had always said compliments helped make friends, her dad was never nice like that, and as far as she could tell he didn’t have any friends. Mary gave a small scoff, clearly embarrassed to be seen talking to her. She exchanged a look with her friends. Carol felt the sting of rejection pressing her back, but she forced a smile and tried again.
“Hey,” Carol said to another girl, pointing at her shoes.
“We have the same ones.” The girl rolled her eyes and laughed. “Ew. Why are you dressed like a boy? That jacket is ick.”
Another girl gave a half-hearted, “You guys,” but the group kept laughing. Carol dropped her eyes, not wanting to see their smirks. Her throat tightened, and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. Why couldn’t she be cool like them?
Then Mary spoke again. “So, do you think James Wilson is cute?”
Carol blinked, startled. Her guard shot up.
“No,” she said quickly. James was in their class, but she hadn't really thought much about him. She'd missed the memo on when boys had stopped being gross.
“Well, I think he’s cute,” Mary said. “We all do. You got a problem with him?”
Carol shook her head quickly.
“No, I just, Yeah, I guess he’s kind of cute.”One of the girls burst out laughing, and Mary suddenly turned, striding toward the basketball court. Carol’s stomach dropped as she watched Mary lean close to James, whispering something in his ear. His head jerked up, eyes landing on Carol. His face twisted in disgust.
Laughter erupted. “Carol likes James! Carol likes James!” voices chanted behind her.
Her chest tightened, her eyes flooded, and before she could stop herself, she turned and fled. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sobbed, racing behind the school building. She pressed herself against the wall, hiding, breaking down where no one could see.
No matter how much she tried, she was always alone.
Carol wiped her cheeks and made her way back to the classroom. Her face still burned, but she figured she could hide behind her folders and keep her head down until the day moved on. She slipped through the door as quietly as she could. A few students were scattered at their desks, bent over projects, while Ms. Wilkens sat at her computer with her back to the room. Carol slid into her seat, pulled out two folders, and set them upright like a shield. With her little wall in place, she rested her head and tried to disappear.
“Wanna help me?” a voice broke the silence.
Carol lifted her eyes and saw Jess on the floor with a roll of butcher paper spread wide. She held out a marker, her nails chipped and dirty, dark black bangs spilling into her eyes. Jess always stayed inside at recess. She had given up on fitting in long ago.
Carol hesitated, then reached for the marker and knelt beside her.
“Thanks," she whispered, glancing at the drawing of Europe Jess had sketched, and begun to fill in with colours and smaller drawings relating to the countries.
Jess smiled, and together they began to colour it in. With each stroke, the tight weight in Carol’s chest started to loosen. Jess was always kind.
So why did it matter so much what the other girls thought? Why did she want their friendship so badly?
Carol tried to be nice, but somehow it was never enough.
They were cruel, and still everyone adored them.
Why?
Now
“You're missing another party at Corey's? You know everyone is going to be there.”
Carol closed her locker with a slight flick of her wrist, with a last quick look at the small mirror hanging from the back.
“Well, obviously not.” She replied with a quick wave to herself, leaning back against the lockers as she regarded Kelly, her cheer co-captain as the other girl gave her a particularly withering look.
“I don't know how you think this is going to fly, you've missed a bunch of practices too lately, what if any of the rest of us just decided to stop bothering?” It was hardly as if attendance at ‘extra curricular’ activities were really relevant to the cheer team, but they were certainly relevant to the vaguely murderous nature of highschool student body politics.
“I doubt that would be much of an issue.”“And why not?”
“People actually want me at their parties, Kells.”The quick retort followed by a teasing wink brought a quick snort of laughter from an approaching figure that moved up close to the two girls just as Kelly was no doubt about to reply in turn. “Oooh the girls have their claws out today.”
“Don't go letting her off easy, Michael, you've noticed it to.” Kelly fixed Michael, the ever fashionably dressed classmate of theirs, with a look that both managed to be a pout and authoritative.
Michael gave the pair a pointed look over a pair of no doubt far too expensive sunglasses. “I just want out of this day without a cat fight after last bell.” When Kelly was in the process of throwing up her hands in frustration, he did add. “But she is right, Carol, a show needs its star.”
“I wouldn't have put it like that.” Kelly muttered as Carol laughed, only further as a smirking Michael finished his words with an over acted bow. As far as Carol knew the pair of them had been friends since forever, but even since Carol had moved into town the duo had become a trio, as much as the backstabbing of inevitable prom queen and king candidates could ever be united.
“Don't worry guys, I'm not planning on missing any more training.” She paused suspenseful, before adding,
“And I've got a killer plan for reminding everyone what its like to have a Danvers at your soirée.” She spoke with a flutter of eye lashes.
“But I'll tell you all about that later, gotta dash.” She spoke as she swept away, just about catching.
“What's she even got to do? Everyone knows her dad's a-” She blanked out whatever was coming. As she pushed through the crowding of students making a break for home and freedom.
It took her longer to get far enough away from the school by matters mundane than it did before she was soaring through clouds a hundred miles away from the drama and politics of senior year.
She loved to fly, she'd loved it from the moment Stevie had first taken her up in a plane. She'd been so excited and proud of her brother, couldn't believe the amazing things he could do.
Now
she could fly, not through the tricks of humanity's ever advancing technology, but her and her alone.
“Eat your heart out Stevie, love you forever.” She called out in the rush of wind, letting out a long laugh of grief and joy rushing together. Ever as her powers pulled the electron magnetic fields of reality around her enough to propel her through the air, the force of the air rushing against her danced in glittering light over her skin, a thousand tiny impacts feeding the swell of energy bursting beneath her skin.
She banked upwards in the air, soaring past a cloud front that towered like a mountain in the sky, feeling the hold of air lessen around her, before rocketing down the other side of Mt Cloud. Clouds could do a real number on her hair.
“Operative Warbird, report.” The voice sounded clearly in her ear despite the rush of wind, the work of fancy tech from the Pentagon placed into one of her piercings.
“Aye aye Cap'n," she spoke back, with a salute that was really just to herself as she flew.
“That…is not proper r….Nevemind, did you receive the brief?”
Carol could quite easily feel the irritation in General Erickson's voice even through the modulation caused by the audio technology functioning in her personal flight. That brought a more spiteful twinge to her current state of enjoyment. Erickson had taken command of the Warbird project after Mar'vell's work had proven successful and she had little doubt he considered her an unfortunate vapid tag along to the enormous power within her. She hadn't tried too hard to disabuse him of the notion, mostly because she trusted the man even less than she did Kelly if she'd had a chance to take over as Cheer Captain.
“Yes General, that's why I'm currently airborne. You've uncovered a well defended oceanic Hydra facility you need removed in the name of truth, justice, liberty, all those nice things.” As she finished her plummet from the cloud cover, she instead swooped low over the ocean, low enough to trail her hand through a wave that churned with the force of the wild Atlantic ocean.
“There's a narrow window to work before they know that we know, I hope they don't pick me up on radar first.”“Warb- Miss Danvers, you are far too small a target to appear on conventional radar.”
“Oh my God, so you think I'm skinny!?” She hoped the squeal of her voice, a perfect immitation of one of her favourite viral TikTok's, could be picked up miles away within the facility that functioned as Mar'vell's lab and the headquarters of Project Warbird.
“That is not what-”
“Easy there General, I know how radar works, closing in on target, Warbird out.” Her tone became more serious as she paused to place the covering of her demi-helm over her features, the rush of air on her ears lessening as it concealed her features. The long trail of her blazing blonde hair slipping out and into the helmet plume in a motion she had to practice far too many times to admit.
“Lets push these Mach numbers, baby,” She spoke to herself, before forcefully crashing through an oceanic wave. For all the rules of aerodynamism this would have been a terrible idea for someone attempting to push their speed, but even as the drag of the full churn of water pulled her back, the impact of the force rippled through her. A sudden rush of resistance registered briefly as pain before it gave way to rush of energy, empowering her even more, before she burst forwards in a sonic boom which cast aside the rest of wave.
The amalgam that rose before her in the sea seemed part oil rig, part submarine, a cascade of shielded platforms gathered around a central vessel with the ability to submerge. It likely only needed a few minutes at the surface before it could dive low, back into the protection of anonymity. Too bad she was here. She might not have shown up on radar, but any conventional means of detection like ‘looking out of a window’ might have given anyone aboard a sudden revelation, only a few moments before Carol Danvers, Warbird, collided with some of the most advanced paramilitary technology in the world, and turned it into only so many splinters.
She moved like a star reborn through the craft, a blazing golden light that pulled apart all around it. The organisation, Hydra, was mostly a secretive one, but she'd been given enough details from her handlers to not feel too poorly for those caught in her orbit. It was not that she sought to snuff out the lives of those around her, but disabling the station was her priority. Carol took care not to directly blast apart any of the scattering crew, saving the worst intensity of her attacks for the more automated defences that looked to strike her down.
She was surging with enough power now that when an automatic turret fired a salvo directly into her the impacts registered purely as a patter of generating force within her, a not unpleasant feeling. Carol even allowed it to continue for a moment before blasting it apart with a single photon blast, then striding into the final central chamber.
If many had fled in fear from her before, this room was a hive of even greater dashing back and forth, but between consoles. Whether they were attempting to summon aid or simply rid themselves of evidence, it largely stopped at the glowing form of Warbird punched her way through the suddenly closed blast doors.
“Alright folks, let's all surrender before I have to manually break everything.” She offered, lifting slightly off the ground to give her some more impressive height, and thus intimidation as she spoke. Many of those present did indeed stop in place, others falling to their knees in a more overt submission, but most notably not the individual at the central console.
“One of Erickson's lab creations… so much power, with us you could be free of weak men grasping your leash.
“Aren't you guys, like, Nazis?” The simple question seemed to put a sudden stop to whatever meaningful rant the site director was about to embark on.
“What..I don't see..”
“Yeah, sorry, one of my best friends is gay and black so that's probably not going to work, sure it would have been a great speech though.” Carol's feet touched down as she spoke, ever close to the man.
“Insolent child, you know nothing of-”
Her final, much more restrained, photon blast took him sailing across the room to land in a crumble of limbs.
“Everyone else ready to give up and wait for the Navy? Great stuff.”