Work Text
--2013--
It was early May, it was warm and humid outside, rain was thundering down, and Lynn Lewis hated it all with a passion. Logically, she knew humanity had brought this upon themselves and there wasn’t much she could do about it. Illogically, she wanted to punch Mother Nature in the face.See, Lynn had been having kind of a sucky day. She slept past her alarm, missed the bus, had to scramble to get a ride from her best friend Gig, nearly forgot to feed her bird, slammed her locker on her finger hard enough to bruise, and all of this for what? To take a French test that she knew she was going to bomb at eight a.m. in the freaking morning. (Lynn sounded exactly like a person dying of bronchitis, while the student she was paired up with had the audacity to sound like an average French-speaking person.)Needless to say, she was feeling a bit twitchy. Only a smidge. She was a mobile person, always tapping her fingers and twirling her earbuds and lip-syncing to songs no one else could hear. When she was stressed, her need to be active only got worse. In today’s case, the storm alone would have been enough to throw her into a bad space.Lynn wasn’t a big fan of precipitation in general. She knew some hipsters liked rain for the aesthetic, and most normal folks liked snow for its (admittedly handy) use as a projectile, but she herself just didn’t see the appeal. To her, rain meant flooding basements and falling trees and super-speed-inducing lightning strikes, and right about now only one of those three sounded remotely tolerable. And snow equaled shoveling. Lots and lots of shoveling.Her phone vibrated in her pocket over the currently blasting notes of “Northern Downpour,” causing her to sigh dramatically and roll her head back accordingly. Another annoying thing about rain: she couldn’t walk home. The only three people she trusted in a car, her mom, dad, and Gig, were all at work. Productive people. Ew. The text was from Gig, unsurprisingly. Who else would be texting Lynn, anyway? She wasn’t exactly the most popular person in school, thanks to her incessant talking, snapping, and tendency to not listen to what anyone said, ever.So apparently Gig had forgotten something in the STEM lab, which once again surprised absolutely no one but them. Lynn wouldn’t be surprised if someday they discovered a way to forget their sanity at school. She knew she had, without even trying, so there was hope yet for her bestest friend.The reason our protagonist was being so pouty about retrieving a simple possession for her closest and dearest friend is that she’d just sat down to finish a painting she’d been working on since last week and going all the way to the science wing was a lot of walking and required her to pack up all of her stuff, which was a lot of effort that Lynn wasn’t sure she had in her right now. All she wanted to do was go home, curl up in a blanket, put on season one of Total Drama Island, and completely demolish what was left of her mom’s birthday cake.Alas, she had a duty to perform as a supportive friend.She could technically leave her belongings in the art room and come right back for them, since she did plan on returning and finishing her painting, but her city-born dad had drilled it into her at a young age that she couldn’t leave anything behind that she wasn’t willing to lose. And Lynn very much wanted to keep her hot pink bedazzled backpack, thanks.The hallways made a noticeable change at the point where the art half of the school became the science half—the art side was older-looking, with paint peeling on the radiators and yellowing white-painted brick walls. The science side looked like someone had dumped their entire life savings into making it look pretty, which was more or less true. Local bazillionaire Tony Stark shoved a truckload of money at Lynn’s school during his latest attempt at philanthropy and told Liberty School for Gifted Youth to “start a better science program.”Those were his exact words. The news had a field day with his inadequate speaking skills, as per usual. Stark’s biggest fan that Lynn knew, Gig, didn’t care what he said so long as he kept the money flowing towards their precious computer program.Gig worked at Stark Industries now. To an extent. They claimed it was a paid internship, but Lynn wasn’t sure how true the paid part was. Gig’s continued wearing of sweatpants and ratty t-shirts suggested that some half-truths may have been uttered.Lynn shivered as a wall of air conditioners (“to keep the computers from overheating,” Gig had said in an awestruck voice) hit her and she placed her bag on the floor outside the STEM lab’s door. She’d never been a big fan of labs, to be honest, or hospitals. Too much chemical smell, not enough fun. Plus, the last time Lynn was in a hospital was to get stitches after an incident with the dining room table (long story), and the doctor who treated her definitely didn’t use enough anesthesia.She rubbed absently at the dull scar it had left on part of the underside of her jaw and examined her reflection in the window of the door. Prominent cheekbones. Brown eyes. Nothing to write home about. Her hair had been cut for a while now in such a way that the bob swooped inward directly under her jaw, hiding the darker patch of skin from sight. It wasn’t that Lynn was ashamed of the scar, it was just a pain to have to explain to everyone who asked exactly why she was pretending to be Simba on top of a table at the extremely mature age of twelve years old.Thunder rumbled at least a few miles away, and Lynn caught herself trembling slightly at the sound. She shook her head and forged onward into the eerily dark and quiet lab. The only noises were coming from the machines lining the walls of the room, as well as the now hushed discography of Panic! at the Disco playing in her left ear. Lynn snapped one of the hair ties around her wrist.Gig’s thing was right where they said it would be, a brown paper bag sitting innocently atop one of the central desks. Lynn approached it like a moth to a flame. Gig had said nothing crucial was inside, just something they needed to bring into work the following day, but Lynn couldn’t resist sneaking a peek.It was a clear, durable container, sort of like what a jam jar would be for people a hundred years in the future. The object looked like it could be dropped off the Empire State Building and it’d probably survive intact. More interesting than that, though, was what was inside the capsule.“Hello, there, strange gooey thing.” Lynn tapped the glass a few times. “How are you today?”It was indeed a strange gooey thing, a half-liquid-half-solid substance that was pitch black and seemed to shine as it moved. And it moved. Even when Lynn held the container still, the matter inside sloshed around like bile in a stomach. Which was gross. But this thing was pretty gross too, so it was a justified comparison.Lynn, curious as she was, busied herself for a moment poking and prodding the vessel, and seeing how the thing inside reacted when she turned it this way and that. She was so invested in her study of the future jelly(?) that she didn’t hear the door swinging wider open at the end of the room. The new doors had new hinges. Lynn later added that to the list of reasons why she should never go to the science wing ever again, along with why she should have never left the painting studio in the first place.“You’re so gross , I don’t even know what—” Lynn stopped herself suddenly as she noticed the presence of another person in the lab out of the corner of her eye. Her shoulders went rigid and her whole frame went tense as she slowly turned to face the newcomer. “Can I… help you?”The figure cast an imposing shadow across the room, and lightning flashed appropriately. It had such great dramatic timing. Everything about the situation made Lynn want to run, but her limbs had turned to lead. A sinking feeling of dread began settling in her stomach.The intruder stepped closer, his footfalls remarkably light for someone dressed so completely for combat. Lynn could see from where she stood that Casper the Unfriendly Ghost was sporting a killer head of greasy, unkempt shoulder-length hair, and had quite the large firearm strapped to his back. She really did not like where this was going.Lynn finally found motion again, slowly lowering the canister of black inky stuff into its bag. Her fist closed tightly around the rolled top of paper bag, but she could already feel her grip sliding. Lynn was a nervous sweater, which she never loved but now was starting to hate.Casper finally walked into the dim light cast by the wall of windows, and Lynn winced at the glare from his expensive and dangerous-looking metal arm. The appendage reminded Lynn of something out of Star Wars.“Do you not talk or something, Ninja Guy? What do you want, man?” Lynn wasn’t scared. She wasn’t scared of the ghost man and his metal arm and giant gun and greasy hair, she wasn’t.It would be a lot easier to figure out how Casper felt about all this if he wasn’t wearing his weird ninja mask with breath holes, but he was, so all Lynn had to go off of was his eyes, which looked absolutely dead inside. This guy was not in a normal headspace and Lynn could tell. He didn’t even seem to hear her questions, much less acknowledge them.Before Lynn could psychoanalyze him any further, Casper approached her silently and quickly as a specter and knocked her over the head. Lynn couldn’t say too much in protest. She was too busy being unconscious.That wasn’t the worst part, though.Lynn wouldn’t get to go home, or anywhere else remotely inviting, for another three years.Time for an origin story.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
--2017--
“Salutations, fellow human, you’ve reached the cell of the Shadow . If you’re looking to have someone bodyguard-ed, spooked, or sliced-and-diced, do me a solid and wait for the beep! Just a reminder, I only deal in cash, because credit cards are messy, and there’s no guarantee I’ll take the job you offer me, no matter how hefty the price tag. Have a swell day, I’ll get back to you if I like ya!”It was eleven a.m. when Lynn’s alarm rang abrasively through his ears for the first time in several years. Shoot. That’s right. Gig had hooked him up with a job interview today.He groaned, rolled out of bed, and slapped his hand on the clock’s snooze button, effectively ridding his immediate vicinity of One Direction singles. For now.Lynn hummed as he shoved a Wildwood, NJ sweatshirt over his pajamas and shuffled into the main room of his and Gig’s shared apartment. Well, shared was a generous word. After three years of whatever you wanted to call it, rooming with HYDRA, extensive torture, kidnapping, he was stationed in the storage-turned-guest room at the back of Gig’s apartment. Never had Lynn felt more grateful for Tony Stark and his generous paychecks than he did in that moment. It was a step above couch surfing, but it was either this or his mom’s house, and Lynn was ninety-nine percent sure she thought he was dead.Still with the remainders of “Drag Me Down” bouncing around in his head, Lynn snarfed down a bowl of Cocoa Pebbles, stomped on a pair of uggs, and made his way towards the door. On his way out he grabbed his glittery backpack by the door, the same one he had in junior year of high school, because no other bag could possibly compare. Within the backpack were several essentials: his emergency burner (a Nokia, because those suckers are indestructible ), his actual work phone, a bag of cheetos, a pair of sunglasses, and his work attire and associated weaponry, just in case. He excavated his phone from the bowels of the bag, wasted no time putting his earbuds in, and scrolled through his various mixes. Today he settled for Good Day Songs. If things went the way Lynn hoped, today would be a good one.Lynn had a job interview at the Margaret Carter Memorial Library at noon.He walked easily to the subway, bouncing to the beat of his music as he went. He kept one hand in his pocket at all times, fiddling methodically with his beloved Captain America fidget spinner. Nothing but respect for his president.The subway ride was brief and uneventful, though Lynn did attract quite a few judgmental stares for his current clothing choices. He didn’t mind, he’d rather be surrounded by conservative a-holes than no one at all.Lynn took a deep breath as he approached the library. It was a large, ornate building practically the size of a museum. No wonder they needed a new librarian.Meeting him for this interview was a scary-looking woman by the name of Erika. She was a severe, tall, slim woman with an angular face, gold horn-rimmed glasses, and pitch black hair that fell like mane in loose curls. She wore a dark green cardigan and an olive pencil skirt. Overall, she sort of reminded Lynn of his third-grade teacher, Ms. Smith. That was no compliment.“What makes you think you’re qualified for this position, Lynn?”“Uh,” Lynn coughed as the words he had prepared got stuck in his throat. “I need money?” That was a blatant lie. “Well. Um. I need a job, I need routine, and I promise I wouldn’t miss a day of work. Except for like, self care. And stuff.”Erika pushed up her glasses with her middle finger. Was that a statement? Or did she just push up her glasses like that? Was this one huge subliminal message from the universe that Lynn was meant to die alone and purposeless in Gig’s broom closet? Stay tuned for the next episode of Lynn Has Existential Crises and Superpowers, coming to a basement TV set near you.Erika cleared her throat, bringing Lynn back from a near-dissociative episode. “How would you conduct yourself if you did get the job?”“Um. I don’t know. I’d do my best to be quiet, but I do need to keep my earbuds in like I have them now. I have, um, a disorder.”The librarian nodded as if she knew this was coming. “You’re hired, then.”Lynn halted in his discreet lip-sync session to the Cola Song’s Remix. “I’m sorry, what?”“I was just waiting for the catch. There’s no such thing as the perfect worker. I’m more inclined to trust you now that you’ve acknowledged any potential shortcomings. You seem to be a diligent worker, with your head on straight, so just keep your head down and you’ll get your pay at the end of each month.”Well. That was easier than Lynn expected. “That’s… great! Um, thanks!” He paused, before electing to continue his train of thought. He needed to know he wouldn’t be working with terrible people. “I’m genderfluid, by the way. I’m going by he/him right now, but I’d say unless I tell you otherwise go with she/her. Is that… something that would stop me from working here?” If it was, Lynn would be more than happy to find employment somewhere else.“No, it doesn’t.” Erika said matter-of-factly. “My employees’ pronouns and sexual preferences are no concern of mine. Like I said, just be discreet about it. Don’t proclaim it from the rooftops. This is a library, after all.”Lynn allowed himself to laugh a bit at that. Erika seemed to get less and less scary the longer they talked, as if some fear-inducing projection she cast out was dwindling as the conversation went on.“Alright, well, if there are no further things to discuss, I’d like to go ahead and assign you to the children’s wing. You’ll be working with Petunia—here’s her phone number.”Erika handed him a makeshift business card/obviously cut out piece of cardstock that read Petunia Flynn, Margaret Carter Library, XXX-XXX-XXXX . Lynn muttered his thanks, twirled the card around in his hands, and made to leave.On his way out, a sudden thought occurred to him. He poked his head back in Erika’s door. “What will I be doing, exactly?”Erika didn’t even look up from a stack of papers she was shuffling. “Shelving, most likely.”Ah. So nothing too exciting then.Lynn shrugged inwardly. He supposed his other job was enough excitement to go around.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
--2013--
The first thing Lynn saw when she woke up was white. And a lot of it. A gaggle of intimidating people in white lab coats had dragged her into a room (What the hell kind of sedatives was she on right now? She could barely move her own head!), slapped a few very tight bracelet thingies on her wrists, and left her shivering on the cold tiled floor. The heavy metal door let out a resounding slam as it was pulled shut. Then Lynn was left in total silence.“Hello? Earth to science dudes? Anyone there?”No response.She hated it. Nothing felt familiar. During her travel (however long that was, she didn’t know where she was) Lynn had been removed of her hair (precious locks—gone!), her clothes (hospital gown, ew), and backpack, leaving her with no familiar stims to ground her in the world. She was surrounded by eerie silence, as her ears strained to pick up on any noise that could anchor her to reality.The walls were soundproofed, she was sure of it. They looked cushy and thick. She couldn’t even hear a hypothetical pin drop.The entire room was a sickening shade of white, so pure it hurt Lynn’s head just to look at it. It was so purposefully devoid of color it made her want to scream in agony.One of the walls was different to the other three, which were padded with some material that conjured up words like solitary confinement and asylum. The fourth wall (ha, ha) seemed to be made of reinforced glass, and showed Lynn a pathetic-looking person who moved when she did.Reflection. It was her reflection.Overall, Lynn was in her own personal hell. The air was tasteless, smell-less, leaving her woozy in detachment. Lynn didn’t have any colors to look at. No sounds to imitate and roll around in her head. No feelings to keep her tethered to existence. No tastes or smells to comfort her by their sheer existence.Lynn was, for all intents and purposes, completely and utterly alone.And that was before the real pain set in.Slowly but surely, a head-splitting pain began spreading through Lynn’s skull. She had gotten headaches before, they were a common symptom of her sensory overload, but this was ten times the pain. Imagine an axe has been chopped down the center of your head, and now a deadly poison is seeping into your brain. It was that, but worse.It didn’t take long for Lynn’s whimpers to turn to groans, then to cries, then to full-on screams. It was complete agony. It felt like her skull was trying to split apart and keep itself together at the same time. Lynn’s head was fighting against itself.The pain could’ve gone on for minutes, or maybe hours. Probably hours. Lynn lost her voice more than once, but kept on screaming nevertheless. Her eardrums ached at the sound, but if she stopped she was sure the pain would build up and explode. She had to let her anguish out through the only method available.She punched the walls, though their spongy texture just rebounded and made her fists go flying in the opposite direction.She punched the floor, though the metal did nothing but split her own knuckles and make them bleed profusely.Lynn punched herself—her legs, chest, and especially head—anything to get that god-awful pain to just go away. After a while the sensation began to spread beyond her head, all across her body. Lynn clawed at wherever the feeling went. She needed it to stop, and no matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t get it to.Lynn must have been writhing in agony for hours before the pain began to cease. As she slowly regained control over her body, new sensations began flooding her senses.She could now pick out the individual specks of dirt on the walls from her position in the back of the room.While her ears strained to hear it, she could just pick up a dull hum flowing through the room from some electronic device.Now that she really focused, Lynn could smell the room. It had that unnatural, stale scent that you only really get in hospitals. Lynn didn’t know whether to be happy or not about that.Basically, whatever had just happened, it increased Lynn’s already overactive senses twofold.She began to hyperventilate. This was a lot. Lynn had just gone with no attachment to reality for longer than she ever had, and she still felt phantom pains alongside the edge of her head, and for Odin’s sake, what was that humming noise?Lynn honestly almost started scratching herself again. Her bloody palms were already starting to lose their comfort as Lynn’s fingernails mutilated them frantically. She didn’t know where she was. Oh god, she was going to die— All of her thoughts ceased to continue as the metal door on the far end of the room creaked open.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
--2017--
Lynn let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when he slammed Gig’s apartment door shut. Life was hard, because being outside meant too much noise but often the apartment got so quiet that Lynn had to blast Sir Mix-A-Lot’s greatest hits just to remind himself that he was safe.
He looked up to see Gig’s Stark Industries official briefcase leaning against the wall. “Bada bing!” He called while kicking off his uggs.
He heard Gig’s answering “Bada boom!” in a matter of milliseconds. Lynn’s ears twitched. His BFF-slash-babysitter was in the kitchen, sitting on a stool, eating what sounded like… an apple. Lynn rolled his eyes at that. Only assholes ate apples. This was a known fact in the scientific community.
The whole ‘Bada bing/Bada boom’ system was something the friends had thought up when Lynn was first adjusting to civilian life. While he could easily hear any other people in the apartment, his subconscious automatically assumed it was someone from the Lab, and his brain unconsciously and automatically went into fight mode. The two decided they needed a safe-phrase after Lynn nearly broke Gig’s nose when they got out of work early.
Gig was indeed eating an apple when Lynn rounded the corner into their ridiculously sized kitchen. How much cabinet space could you need?
“Welcome back, loser,” Gig greeted through a mouthful of green fruit. Lynn stuck out his tongue in retaliation. “How was the interview?”
“I’ll have you know I got the job, assface. I start tomorrow.” Lynn made his way over to his designated cabinet, where he had stashed at least seven years’ worth of Eggos and Oreos. He grabbed a packet of Double Stuf and started munching contentedly.
They ate in silence for the next five minutes, because this was their friendship. The soothing voice of Alex Trebek (Gig always had Jeopardy reruns playing on their TV) and Lynn’s music from his exposed earbud were the only sounds in the room.
“So what’re ya gonna do there, anyway? Run the catalog computers?”
Lynn leaned his stool backward so only two legs stayed on the floor. “No, I’m supposed to be shelving, with some girl named Petunia Flynn.”
Gig’s eyebrows shot up and they wiggled them intensely. It was unnatural, and they did it all the time because they knew Lynn hated it. “Ooh, is she cute?”
The younger of the two shrugged. “Hell if I know. I’ve never met her, remember? I guess if she is I’ll let you know.”
Gig nodded and grinned. “Yeah, you will. Just remember to tell her you have this really hot roommate with a high-paying job at Avengers Tower—”
“If you can call being an assistant technician ‘high-paying.’” Lynn interrupted. “And if you can call yourself ‘hot.’”
“Uh, I am!” They gesticulated wildly with the apple core. “Me and that super cute lab assistant went out for a while, remember? I can date whomever I choose! I am the master of romance!”
“Sure. Supreme overlord of love. Right. You flirted with him twice, then went to McDonalds together when the power cut out on your lunch break. Real romantic.”
Gig responded with some colorful phrases that Lynn quickly blocked out of his mind. This was supposed to be a PG-13 experience, and his sole f-bomb was being saved for a
special
occasion. Kind of like his iTunes card that he saved for ten weeks until his new favorite musical soundtrack was released. Good things come to those who wait.
“Oh, wait one second.” Gig’s sudden outburst snapped Lynn from his musings. It was lucky they did; the fourth wall couldn’t handle much more of that abuse before it would completely shatter.
“I have something for you.” Lynn opened his mouth to protest, he wasn’t a charity case, but his friend had already left the room.
Gig came back a moment later, holding a large bag filled with tissue paper. “Happy birthday, you stupid freeloader!”
Lynn forgot how to breathe.
“Here.” Gig propped the bag up on the counter. “It’s not much, just something I cooked up in the lab the other day. I thought you would like it.”
Lynn stared at the bag. It was black with little party poppers decorating the sides. It was a birthday present. For Lynn. Because today was Lynn’s
birthday
. And he knew that. Definitely.
Gig faltered in their jazz hands. “You—you do like it, right?”
Lynn coughed and wiped some stuff from his eyes. Probably dust, or something.
“Yeah, no, I just—
didn’treallyremembermybirthday
.”
Gig stopped in their showmanship altogether and winced. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, shoot, man, I forgot you’ve only been out for so long, your concept of time is still totally wack—”
Lynn smiled then, a real big smile that, while genuine, failed to dispel every last trace of sadness from his face. “It’s fine. My PTSD isn’t your problem, you know?” He laughed halfheartedly. “Gimme.” He made grabby hands at the bag.
“Okay, idiot. Just don’t go too crazy with the wrapping. They’re durable, your present that is, but still. For the sake of dramatic reveals.” Gig hesitantly handed the gift to their friend, checking for residual signs of a panic attack as they did so. Lynn noticed, but ignored. As he did with most other things.
In the bag, through layers of tissue paper, was a shoebox. And in that shoebox was the best pair of boots ever seen by anyone ever.
Lynn gaped as he pulled the shoes from their box. They were black, and kind of snow-boot-like, with weird glowy purple lines along the seams.
And they were velcro
.
Gig smirked at Lynn’s reaction. “And they’re not just for looks.”
Lynn tore his gaze away from the boots of his dreams. “Excuse me?”
His roommate wore the most smug expression he’d ever seen on them. “They’re anti-gravity.”
Now, Lynn wasn’t really insecure about his masculinity or anything. His gender was fluid, for Odin’s sake. However, to this day he refuses to admit just how high-pitched his squeak was. And he did squeak just then. Almost too high for the human ear.
He hugged the best friend in the world with such fervor that he only stopped when they both heard something crack. Lynn backed away like he had whiplash. Ever since the Lab, he didn’t really have a handle on his own strength.
“It’s fine, nothing’s broken.” Gig assured him. “At least, I don’t think so.” They rubbed their back. “Yeah, you just realigned my spine. Thanks.”
Lynn punched their arm. “That’s how you know you’ve spent too much time at work.”
“Yeah, well, if I want that promotion Mr. Stark is offering…” Gig trailed off.
“I know, I know.” Lynn broke off from their banter to turn back towards his new shoes. His birthday shoes.
“Go try them out.”
Lynn smiled hopefully. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” Gig huffed exasperatedly. “I can see you bouncing to get out from over here. When was your last job?”
“Uh…” Lynn’s memory was spotty at the worst of times. “A week ago? I think?”
Gig pushed him towards the door and shoved the shoes in his grasp. “Well, get going! Make sure your next target gets to see the anti-grav in action. I wanna hear you describe the look on their face. Maybe snap a picture.”
Lynn laughed. “Anything for my best buddy.”
His best buddy rolled their eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Get going, roomie.”
Lynn grinned and grabbed his work bag on his way out. The Shadow was back in business.