Next Avengers: LEGACY

HENRY- Wings

*Ok so the picture above is of Henry in the comics... I'm not a fan of his hair or really anything about the way he is portrayed in this picture so it is different in my story, the only thing I kept is his wings which are portrayed like they are in the picture.

I find myself awakened by the gray sunlight creeping through the window. Where am I? All of a sudden the memories come back. Latveria. Doom. Prince. I run my fingers through my hair. I'm in a giant castle. A GIANT CASTLE. Yesterday was a crazy day. I guess the reality of my situation never really hit me. I stare at the ceiling. I wonder what this day holds. I slowly sit up. Last night I never even bothered to crawl in the covers. A sudden realization comes upon me. I can be human. I could live a normal life. I pull off my shirt and walk over to the mirror. I turn so I can look at my back. Wings protrude from below my shoulder blades. Huge yellow wings. My wings look similar to the first, big wing on a dragon fly. I flutter my wings. I am quickly lifted off the ground. I smile. I drop back down to the floor. My eyes are filled with sadness as I focus on a set of large scars on the top of the wings near where the wings connect to my back. When I was ten I stole a knife from the kitchen of the orphanage and in a moment of fear and desperation tried to cut my wings off. The pain I felt was unsurmountable. The wings are not made of cartilage and bone, they are additional appendages complete with nerves. I made it one fourth of the way. Then bloodied and mad with pain I set the knife down. It wasn't worth it to me. Over the course of a month I nursed my wings back to health. I delicately bandaged them and refrained from flying for an additional month. My wings healed, but the scars remained as constant reminder of my attempt to sever myself from my past. I slowly fold my wings back so they mold to my back. My parents designed the wings so that they would be thin, flexible, and durable which meant that I could fold them so my back would look normal. I slip my shirt back on and stand in front of the mirror again. My dark green eyes search the mirror for something of recognition, something of value. Who am I? The Child of the Wasp and Ant-Man. A living legacy. A voice in my head replies. Or. You are the Prince of Doom. Heir to Latveria. Who needs a legacy when there is a future? I have to decide. Do I let my past determine my future or do I make my life my own? My black hair contrasts my pale white skin. I look like the son of Victor. I could pass as a von Doom.   I pull myself away from the mirror. I don't have to decide today. I can't stop the thought that is plaguing my mind from once again consuming my thoughts. Hero or Villain?

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