Chapter Text
Author’s Note: This fanfiction will not be following any canon youth teams from any continuity, but rather a mix of members from various groups, some of whom will be adults in canon that have been aged down to teenagers for this fanfiction. Also includes one original character.
16 YEARS AGO…
Singapore, 2004
A one-year-old lay on the central diagnostic table, but he wasn't crying. Smoke inhalation from the chaos that had spread throughout the lab had done its job, and the child was most likely in his final breaths
"He's turning cold," Dr. Cheryl Zhao’s voice was a ragged whisper, her hands hovering over her son, "Adam, he’s turning cold!"
Dr. Adam Zhao looked at the final canister of the Extremis Boost. It sat in a cooling tray, glowing with a soft, amber light.
"The smoke inhalation had destroyed much of his respiratory system. If we don't jumpstart his cellular regeneration now..."
"It’s not ready!" Dr. Aldrich Killian shouted, slamming a fresh magazine into his sidearm as he watched the lab’s reinforced doors buckle under Hydra’s thermal charges, "The Boost hasn't been tested on a biological subject this young. It could burn him from the inside out."
"My son is dying, Aldrich!" Adam screamed over an explosion.
Killian looked at the infant, then at the desperate parents who had been his friends for twelve years. He saw the nine-year-old Rudolph huddled in the corner, eyes wide with terror at the thought of his baby brother dying. He remembered civilians dying around him back during his days as a combat medic in the Gulf War, helpless to do anything because he did not have the equipment for complicated surgeries, not out in the middle of a war zone.
"Do it," Cheryl choked out, grabbing Adam’s hand, "Save him."
Killian nodded, grabbed the Extremis injector, and despite the chaos, gently injected its contents into Wesley’s chest.
For a heartbeat, the lab went silent. Then, a scream tore from the infant’s lungs—a sound that was half-human and half-electronic screech. Wesley’s skin turned a bruised, incandescent orange, but then slowly reverted back to its natural colour.
"He’s stable. Go!"
Killian shoved the family toward the emergency exit, where the RSN rescue lights were cutting through the smoke at the docks as Singapore Navy personnel engaged in a firefight with HYDRA forces while evacuating surviving lab personnel.
"What about you?" Adam yelled back.
Killian didn't answer with words. He grabbed three vials of the Extremis Virus, the monstrous strain they had tried to bury. He didn't use an injector; he crushed them in his hands, letting the jagged glass cut his palms as the raw, unstable mutagen flooded his system.
"I'll buy you the time," Killian grunted as his bones began to crack and elongate…
The RSN corvette sped away from the island as, from the stern, the Zhao family and other survivors of the lab attack watched their life’s work vanish.
The island was crawling with Hydra soldiers desperately trying to escape while what was left of Aldrich Killian, now an eight-foot-tall monstrosity of fire and rage, tore through their ranks, his very touch turning soldiers into ash.
The last thing Wesley’s parents saw before the horizon ignited was Killian turning back toward the lab's core before a blinding white dome of light swallowed the island, the shockwave missing the boat by just mere inches as the helmsman pushed the corvette to its limits to get away.
The island was gone.
Dr. Aldrich Killian was gone.
And in his mother's arms, the infant Wesley opened his eyes, orange energy crackling through them…
PRESENT DAY, 2020…
Time Square, New York City, 2020
The air was crisp, the crowd restless. Sunlight reflected off the glass towers, and digital billboards pulsed with the face of President Jack Ryan, his face sober and direct. His voice echoed through the square, calm but resolute.
"We cannot stand idly by while these so-called White Masks, and the shadowy Keres Legion that has recently began to emerge from the darkness, continue to sow chaos. Even with the warnings from the previous administration, from President Obama himself, S.H.I.E.L.D. has made it clear they 'can't be bothered' with 'ordinary terrorists,' choosing instead to focus on threats of a different scale. Because of this, two years ago, as my first act as President upon election, I had quietly reactivated Rainbow.”
The broadcast then shifted to the logo of Rainbow’s logo, last seen in 2012 before the organization was shut down.
"Today, I am proud to formally announce the declassification and full reactivation of Rainbow. This multi-national, counter-terrorism unit will focus on the threats S.H.I.E.L.D. neglected: organized crime, state-sponsored insurgency, and global trafficking. We stand with our heroes, who fight superhuman threats on a daily basis, but we will not neglect the threats on the ground."
Down below on the streets, crowds of onlookers gathered to watch the broadcast while tourists paused mid-selfie. The broadcast was everywhere — on taxis, storefronts, even the holographic ad for Stark Industries.
Then came the sonic boom.
A blur of red and gold streaked across the sky, followed by a jagged-winged figure trailing smoke and fury. Carol Danvers, aka Captain Marvel, twisted midair, dodging a talon swipe from James Natale, the latest to wear the Vulture name.
The wind howled between the skyscrapers as Vulture hovered midair, wings flared wide and eyes gleaming with menace. Natale snarled, banking hard and slashing at her again. His claws missed, but the force ripped a chunk of concrete and piping from a nearby skyscraper. Debris rained down, scattering pedestrians below. Below, civilians scrambled for cover behind food carts and building lobbies, their screams echoing through Times Square
“How many Vultures does Spider-Man have? We should start a registry. Maybe color-code them,” Captain Marvel commented.
“Unlike those knockoffs,” he growled, “My wings aren’t tech. They’re me. Maggia made sure of that.”
Captain Marvel hovered, unimpressed as she charged a photon blast in her palm, eyes glowing.
“So, you’re a mutated assassin with bird bones. That means it’s gonna hurt a lot if something happens to your wings.”
“Go ahead,” Vulture sneered, shifting just enough so the crowd was directly behind him, “Blast me. Let’s see how heroic you are when you vaporize a few tourists.”
Carol’s glow dimmed instantly. She sighed, powered down, then crossed her arms, hovering in place like someone who looked utterly bored with life itself. Her nonchalance to the situation caused Vulture to blink in surprise.
“Wait… what?”
A shadow fell over him.
He turned slowly, confusion morphing into horror as he saw it: A massive gloved hand the size of an SUV, descending from above like divine punishment.
“Oh, porca miseria…”
The impact rattled nearby windows. Dust and feathers exploded outward as Vulture was pancaked into the asphalt, limbs splayed in a perfect Yamcha crater pose as the giant hand lifted, shrinking rapidly as Ms. Marvel retracted her arm with a gleeful bounce in her step.
“Did you see that? I nailed the timing!” she beamed, her hand returning to normal size.
Captain Marvel smirked, drifting down beside her.
“Perfect execution. Bonus points for style.”
“Thanks, Captain! I call it the ‘Wrecking Palm of Justice.’”
“We’ll need to work on the name...”
Behind them, Vulture groaned from his crater.
“I hate kids…”
Avengers Tower, Lower Manhattan, New York
The Memorial Wall stood silent in the heart of Avengers Tower, bathed in soft amber light. Each name etched into its surface carried a story, some heroic, some tragic, all unfinished.
Formerly known as the Falcon, Sam Wilson is the latest man to carry on the legacy of Captain America. He stood alone before the wall, arms folded across his chest, silhouette framed by the glow of fallen legacies. His eyes moved slowly across the faces of those that perished during the Skrull Invasion three years ago
Hank Pym, brilliant and broken; Janet van Dyne, fierce and graceful. Together, Ant-Man and the Wasp had built more than tech: They built trust.
Elias Wirtham, aka Cardiac, was not the easiest person to interact with, but during his short tenure as an Avenger, Cardiac’s medical profession had proven crucial on more than one occasion.
The Red Hulk, Thaddeus Ross, was able to make peace with the Hulk before his untimely demise leading the charge against Skrull tanks, and even then, he single-handedly held the line until the Avengers were able to break through the stalemate before he expired.
Hector Ayala, the infamous White Tiger, had also stepped up, leading the street vigilantes in the ground battle against Skrull forces until a Skrull sniper got to him.
But the wall didn’t only honor heroes.
To the left, a smaller panel bore the images of five known criminals: Tombstone, Hallow’s Eve, Chasm and Molten Man. Men and women who had once terrorized the streets, clashed with vigilantes, and defied the law. Yet when the Skrulls descended, they chose differently. They fought, protected and ultimately gave their lives saving civilians who once feared them.
“They gave it their all and proved that they had good in them when it mattered the most,” he murmured.
Behind him, the tower hummed with life. But here, in this quiet corner, time stood still. And the new Captain America remembered.
The training room at Avengers Tower buzzed with energy: Holographic targets flickered, reinforced mats lined the floor, and the distant hum of repulsor tech echoed from the walls. Ms. Marvel stretched her arm across the room to snag a water bottle, then snapped it back with a grin.
“You know, Patriot,” she said between sips, “For a fellow teenager, you’re like… aggressively responsible.”
Rayshaun Lucas, aka Patriot, stood stiffly near the control console, adjusting the settings on his multi-mode shield.
“Discipline is a virtue,” he replied, not looking up.
Greg Willis, aka Gravity, floated upside down nearby, lazily orbiting a punching bag.
“Virtue’s great and all, but you act like you’re forty. You ever laugh? Or do you just salute in your sleep?”
“I can adapt. I’m not rigid.”
“You couldn’t tell a joke from a taunt if it wore a name tag.”
Ms. Marvel snorted.
“Grav’s got a point. Last week I said you fight like a spreadsheet and you thanked me.”
“That was a compliment,” Patriot said, confused.
“Exactly,” Gravity replied, flipping upright, “Case closed.”
Before the teasing could escalate, Theodore ‘Teddy’ Altman, aka Hulkling, stepped in, arms crossed and voice calm.
“Guys, maybe cool it a little? We’re not even officially launched yet. Project Rising hasn’t started, and we’re already poking holes in each other.”
Ms. Marvel raised her hands in surrender.
“Fair.”
Patriot nodded toward Hulkling.
“Thanks, Altman. You’re right.”
He turned to the group, his expression softening just slightly.
“Look, we were the first four out of sixteen interns to be cleared for field duty. That’s not just luck. It’s trust. The Avengers are watching us, assessing the others. We need to set the tone.”
Ms. Marvel leaned against a wall, thoughtful.
“So, we are the pilot squad.”
“Exactly. If we mess around, it reflects on everyone. We’re not just training. We’re representing the success of Project Rising.”
Gravity floated back up, this time with a more serious look.
“Okay, spreadsheet. You win this round.”
“Let’s just make sure we’re the kind of team others want to follow,” Hulkling commented.
“To not messing up.”
“To not getting pancaked by giant hands.”
“To setting the example.”
They clinked bottle, fist, and shield in a quiet moment of unity — the first of many. Ms. Marvel then flopped onto one of the padded benches, her stretchy limbs sprawled like spaghetti.
“Okay, training done. What’s everyone doing after this?”
Patriot groaned, adjusting the straps on his shield.
“I’ve got ‘society integration’ lessons with Stark and Rogers.”
“That sounds like a fancy way of saying ‘How Not to Scare Civilians 101.’”
Patriot sighed.
“Pretty much. Stark’s gonna lecture me on charm, and Wilson’s gonna quiz me on etiquette. Like I haven’t spent the last three years in a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility disguised as a boarding school.”
Hulkling raised an eyebrow.
“Wait, seriously? You were in one of those covert training academies?”
“Yeah. No dances, no field trips. Just tactical drills and fake math tests.”
“No wonder you salute in your sleep.”
“It’s not that bad. I just don’t see why I need to learn how to ‘blend in’ when I’m already trained to operate in hostile environments.”
Ms. Marvel chuckled. “Hostile environments like brunch?”
“Exactly.”
Hulkling tapped his tablet.
“I’ve got homework. Horizon High doesn’t care if you’re saving the city — late is late.”
Gravity groaned.
“Same. I’ve got a physics lab due once winter break ends. Horizon’s brutal.”
Ms. Marvel perked up.
“Wait, you guys go to Horizon High? That STEM school on Roosevelt Island?”
“Yep. Top-tier, but not exactly merciful when it comes to homework.”
“I’ve got a friend who studies there!” Ms. Marvel said, but then her eyes widened as she suddenly sat upright, “Oh no. I was supposed to meet him at Pier 25 in an hour!”
“Kamala Khan? Late to something? I’m shocked. Better stretch your way there. Or maybe ask Stark for a punctuality upgrade.”
Ms. Marvel groaned, already heading for the locker room.
“You guys are the worst. I’ll see you later. Don’t touch my snacks! Civilian mode: Engaged!”
She disappeared behind the door, her voice echoing faintly while Gravity leaned back, arms behind his head.
“She’s definitely gonna be late. Ten bucks says she forgets her phone.”
“Let’s just hope she doesn’t stretch into traffic again,” Hulkling added.
Pier 25, New York
The late afternoon sun hung low over Pier 25, casting long shadows across the wooden planks and snow-dusted benches. A light snow had begun to fall just fifteen minutes ago, blanketing the pier in a thin, powdery veil. The Hudson River rippled gently beside the dock, its surface catching flecks of orange and silver from the fading sky.
On one of the benches sat a young Chinese teen, bundled in a black parka zipped to his chin. A small flag patch of Singapore was stitched neatly onto his sleeve, its red and white colors muted against the dark fabric. His short, tapered hair, unkempt and poking out all over the place, was tousled by the breeze, and his naturally droopy eyes were fixed on the pages of The Count of Monte Cristo. He traced lazy shapes into the snow beside him with one gloved finger, absentmindedly sketching spirals and stars as he read.
He didn’t notice the figure approaching until it was too late.
“Boo!” came a cheerful voice behind him.
The youth jolted, nearly dropping his book. He turned to see a girl in bright winter layers: A splash of pink, teal, and mustard yellow, grinning at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
Kamala Khan.
Wesley Zhao stood, brushing snow off his coat, his expression caught between mild annoyance and quiet relief.
“You startled me,” he complained, his voice soft.
“It’s been a while, Wesley. You’ve gone full hermit mode.”
He tucked the book into his sling bag, the cover peeking out between the zippers.
“Didn’t want to interfere with your superhero outings, that’s all.”
“Interfere? You think I’d rather be punching bird-themed criminals than hanging out with my second oldest friend?”
“Well, you’ve got a team now. Missions. Training. I figured I’d just stay out of the way.”
Kamala’s smile softened.
“You’re never in the way, Wes. Besides, I needed a break from all the shield-slinging and gravity jokes,” she replied as she leaned against the railing, watching the snowflakes drift lazily onto the river’s surface, “So… how’s New York treating you?”
Wesley exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold air.
“Honestly? I’d rather be back in Jersey City. Across the road from you. It was quieter. Less… chaotic.”
“You mean less superhero chaos?”
“Exactly. The day we moved in last year, we saw Spider-Man fighting Electro. They crash landed right in front of our moving truck. My mom nearly fainted. The funniest part was both Spider-Man and Electro apologizing to my mom before they resumed punching each other in the face.”
Kamala laughed.
“Classic New York welcome.”
Wesley nodded.
“My parents chose Tribeca for the new vet clinic because it’s one of the few neighborhoods that doesn’t attract capes and criminals every other day. No alien invasions, no rooftop battles. Just overpriced coffee and dogs in sweaters.”
“Sounds peaceful,” Kamala said.
“It was. Until I had to start commuting to Roosevelt Island for school.”
“Horizon High, right?”
“Yeah. Great school. Terrible subway ride.”
“What happened?”
“Ran into the Scorpion. He was just standing in the middle of the platform like he was waiting for the train. People were panicking, but he didn’t do anything. Just stood there for a full five minutes before he walked off.”
Kamala blinked.
“That’s unusually considerate of him.”
“I assume he was having a good day. Still, I took the long route for a week after that, then signed up for a dormitory room.”
“You’ve got the worst luck.”
“Tell me about it. But seeing you again? That’s good luck.”
Kamala and Wesley strolled side by side through the light snowfall, their boots crunching softly against the slush-covered pavement. The pier faded behind them as they made their way toward a cozy-looking café tucked between a bookstore and a florist, its windows glowing with warm light and fogged slightly from the inside.
“You know,” Kamala said, pulling her scarf tighter, “Your family’s like a traveling circus. Singapore to L.A., then Jersey City, and now here, New York. You’ve moved more than Spider-Man changes suits.”
“Yeah. Singapore until I was three, then Los Angeles until I was eight. Jersey City was the longest stretch where I got to meet you and Bruno. Then New York last year.”
“Any idea why?”
“Not really. My parents say it’s always ‘for the clinic,’ but I think they just like starting over. The vet clinic’s finally doing well now, though. Tribeca’s been kind to them. There’s also the fact that they don’t want to get too associated with Delphinus Pharmaceuticals. Invites the wrong kind of attention.”
“The conglomerate owned by your paternal second cousin’s parents back in Singapore? Why would it draw the wrong kind of attention, though? I’ve only heard good things about Delphinus.”
“Paparazzi. Adding to that, don’t forget that my Korean third cousin’s a K-Pop idol.”
“Right. Sometimes I forget your mother’s half-Korean.”
They stepped into the café, greeted by the scent of espresso and cinnamon. A barista waved from behind the counter, and Kamala gave a friendly nod before they settled into a booth near the window. Wesley unzipped his coat and leaned back.
“How’s your brother doing, by the way?”
“My brother’s doing well too. Rudolph’s two years into his FDNY paramedic role and already has his fair share of some wild shifts.”
Kamala raised an eyebrow.
“Wild how?”
“He’s ferried vigilantes like Daredevil and Iron Fist. Twice, he had Hercules in the back, who casually asked him about the latest human trends and what Thor is doing, like the pain was nothing to him, while Rudolph was busy trying to figure out why the son of Zeus’ healing factor wasn’t working and having to manually stop the bleeding.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. But it’s not just heroes. He’s had villains too. Shocker once. One of the Crimson Dynamos another time. And then there was Sabretooth. That was a bad day. Sabretooth was barely restrained, and Rudolph had to sit next to Wolverine the whole ride. Wolverine jammed his claws into Sabretooth’s head three times during the twenty-minute trip just to keep him from suddenly murdering the paramedics.”
Kamala blinked.
“Three times?”
“Yeah. Rudolph said it was like riding with a ticking bomb and a grumpy bomb disposal expert. He finally got so fed up, he jammed whatever sharp objects he could into Sabretooth’s neck and chest to keep him in a state of temporary death until they reached the hospital, and even then, he was waiting outside the surgical room with a fire axe, along with Wolverine, Cyclops, Colossus, two dozen Mutant Response Division grunts, and SWAT members from two different precincts.”
Kamala laughed, half in disbelief.
“Your brother deserves a medal dealing with all the psychos.”
“He says he just wants a week without someone bleeding on his boots… Or reminding the super-criminals that paramedics know how to make their days worse.”
They both chuckled, the warmth of the café wrapping around them like a blanket. Snow continued to fall outside, but inside, Kamala and Wesley sat tucked into their booth, steam rising from their newly arrived mugs of Spanish lattes and plates of fresh quiche between them. Kamala took a bite of her mushroom quiche, then leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
“So… you still keeping those powers of yours under wraps?”
Wesley paused mid-sip, his eyes flicking to the window before settling back on her.
“Yeah. Still crackling in secret.”
“You know, you could’ve just said ‘yes.’”
Wesley gave a quiet chuckle, then set his cup down.
“I’m open to your invitation, Kamala. Project Rising sounds promising. But I’m not exactly thrilled about using my powers to fight crime while dressed like a Halloween reject, especially given its origins…”
“Hey, stretchy suits are in this season.”
“Well, my parents already worry enough about Rudolph. He’s out there every day, patching up vigilantes and villains, sometimes smacking them both around with a fire extinguisher when they misbehave. They don’t need me out there too, especially not with powers which not only do I still don’t fully understand, but is associated with biotechnological terrorism.”
Kamala’s expression softened.
“You’re thinking about L.A., where you accidentally hurt your friend.”
He nodded slowly.
“I didn’t mean to hurt Anya. It just… happened. One second, we were goofing around, the next, my powers lashed out. She was lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“I remember you telling me about that incident,” Kamala said quietly, “I also recall that you mentioned how her dad never blamed you.”
“No, but my parents weren’t taking any chances. They packed everything up and moved us across the country. They didn’t want attention drawn to me. Not from heroes, from villains, from anyone.”
“But you’ve got control now. You’ve grown. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner have been helping you out on behest of your parents, checking the levels of the-”
“Yeah, and I appreciate it, but I like my life the way it is. School, books, quiet. No explosions or those rooftop chases you’ve been getting involved in a lot. Still, if things go sideways… Let me know, and I’ll be there. Just because I don’t like the idea of using my freakshow abilities to fight crime doesn’t mean I would turn my back on a close friend who needs my, well, serpentine specialty.”
They clinked their latte cups gently, a silent pact between old friends.
“Okay,” Kamala said, brightening, “Enough heavy stuff. Tell me, did you finally beat that impossible level in Celeste?”
Wesley groaned.
“Don’t remind me. I’m still stuck on the wind tunnel. I swear it’s coded to mock me…”
MEMO: PROJECT RISING / BIOLOGICAL ANALYSIS
FROM: Dr. Bruce Banner
TO: Anthony Stark
SUBJECT: Subject W. Zhao – Extremis Adaptation
Tony, the latest labs confirm what we suspected for the last five years: Wesley is a statistical miracle. Unlike the unstable thermal surges seen in the 2013 Extremis Virus outbreaks, Wesley’s physiology has achieved perfect homeostasis with the Extremis bio-nanotechnology via the now-extinct Boost variant. According to the late Dr. Killian’s notes, the Boost variant doesn't rewrite DNA through trauma but enhances it. You could call it a "benevolent counterpart" to the Virus variant.
However, during a routine kinetic punch test today, we had an unexpected development. As Wesley’s fist accelerated, he didn't just discharge kinetic energy; he unconsciously manipulated the friction-based heat at the point of impact. Further tests confirmed that he has either developed thermodynamic-based abilities, or he always had that ability but was unaware of it until now. Either way, we need to monitor his heart rate closely; the "Boost" is waking up…
Characters
Project Rising:
1) Rayshaun Lucas/Patriot - Captain America: Sam Wilson #18 (January, 2017)
2) Kamala Khan/Ms. Marvel - All-New Marvel NOW! Point One #1.NOW (January, 2014)
3) Theodore Altman/Hulkling - Young Avengers #1 (February, 2005)
4) Greg Willis/Gravity - Gravity #1 (June, 2005)
Introducing:
1) Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel - Marvel Super-Heroes #13 (December, 1967)
2) Sam Wilson/Captain America - Captain America (Vol. 7) #25 (October, 2014)
::: As the Falcon - Captain America #117 (June, 1969)
3) Bruce Banner/Hulk - The Incredible Hulk #1 (May 1962)
Villains:
1) James ‘Jimmy’ Natale/Vulture (4th) - Amazing Spider-Man (Vol. 2) #592 (April, 2009)
Others:
1) Aldrich Killian - Iron Man vol. 4 #1 (Jan. 2005) – Deceased
Special Appearance:
1) President Jack Ryan, Sr (from Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan)