Roman Phoenix- A Marvel Fanfiction

Part One; Chapter 1: The Phoenix is Real

A/N: Thank you for reading Roman Phoenix, a Marvel fanfiction. I based this story on a character I have made for roleplaying, and thought she needed an actual story and I have ideas galore about her history. This will be in two parts, Part One will be all about World War II and up to her death in 1992, and Part Two will be taking place in 2011 when Fury's men find Captain America in the ice.

March, 1939- 

Daylight, it peered through the dirty window in the poorly small room. Natalie had cried herself to sleep yet again the night before, her face puffy and her eyes blood-shot. It had been a couple of days since she had buried her mother in the unusually-soft ground for a March day, her step-father, Harry Fraser, made it quite clear that he despised her and that he was only nice to his step-daughter while his wife was alive. It seemed since her mother's condition worsen he had started to show a darker side to what Nat had remembered as she kept her hair long to her shoulders, blue eyes glanced to see the world outside. Children playing and mothers speaking with each other as husbands went to work, Natalie had a hidden jealousy of how care-free everyone was. 

A loud banging on her door made her jump, a small flame coming out of her hands and as she put it out, Harry was coming in, "You were supposed to be downstairs an hour ago!"

"Father, I just-"

"Don't father me, and I am NOT your father. I don't know how your mother put up with you for so many years." He glared at her and then said, "Downstairs, three minutes or I am not going to feed you." the door then slammed shut, making her jump again. She hadn't bathed in a few days, those fairytales of princesses and step-parents felt all too real now as she stood, going to the basin and pouring a bit of ice-cold water, she cleaned what she could before she got into an old tattered dress Harry had kept from her mother and forced her to wear it in the bar downstairs. Her father passed her a dirty rag and said, "Start washing the dishes. When you're done, you can clean the tables." Hesitating, she took the rag and went into the back, and seeing the piles of dirty dishes, she sighed, before starting onto the chores.

Harry had came back an hour later and with her just finishing the dishes, he gritted, "Pick up the pace, I am not a patient man." She made sure not to get onto his bad side, but he has punched her a couple of times, and she was starting to become fearful of this man. She wanted to burn down the bar, but once she wanted to burn it down when her mother was still alive. Her step-father had kept the aggressive behavior at bay for almost 15 years, but she had noticed he had been drinking a far lot more than the last month of her mother's life and she feared for her own. But who would believe a seventeen year old girl that her father beat on her? And just after the death of her mother, no one would. 

She had quicken her pace as she cleaned the bar area, the tables and had made sure to clean the windows that her five foot four height could reach. If this would keep Harry from beating on her, she would do anything to be able to eat and not get abused that day.  As the day wore on, she felt that she wouldn't be able to stop anything he had planned for the evening as the bar opened and some regulars came in. With Harry in the office, which had no view of the bar, an older man pulled Nat aside and taking her hand, put a few dollars in her hands. "I knew your mother, she wouldn't wish to see you like this. Why don't you leave?"

"I can't , Mr. Stan. If I was to leave, he would find me and beat me more," she whispered to him, and trying to give him back his money, he shook his head and closed her hands over it. "You need it more than me. Use it to try and get away from him." Natalie wanted to persuade him to keep his money, but she knew Mr. Stan was a stubborn mule when it comes to what he wants. "I will, Mr. Stan. You go enjoy your time here, and don't worry too much about me." She had hidden the money in her brassier and went back to work, serving people and cleaning. When it came to closing time, she had led the last of the patrons out before locking the door, letting out a deep sigh as she went to clean whatever messes there were left. Harry counting the till and then as she thought her day would get even more weird, there was a knock on the door. This evening, Harry hadn't been drinking, which was a relief for her as he went over and opened the door, "Tony, we are closed." The two men came through, Natalie having paused in her cleaning to watch the encounter.