Some people may think that the life of a girl who was born into a family of wealth would be perfect. She would grow up with a silver spoon encrusted with rubies in her mouth. She could buy all the pretty ponies and expensive jewelry she could find. And most importantly her entire future would be set in place. She would live the rest of her years without the slightest worry. She'd never worry about car payments or her next paycheck. She could simply call up her daddy and all her problems would fly out the window. It would be all sunshine and rainbows.
Or at least that's how it was supposed to all happen.
I, Harper Silviano was the first born child of Anthony and Zoe Silviano. Not only was I born into great wealth I was also born into an Italian family who just so happened to be involved in the underground mob business. While my family wasn't considered the largest and noblest of sorts, my father was respected. He was a naturally serious fellow with the signature slicked back black hair and thick Italian accent that most mobsters had. Anthony Silviano never put up with any sort of nonsense and was known for being the man who closed up deals. He occasionally would even cut out a loose end every now and then if you know what I mean.
My mother was a lovely woman from what I can remember. She had beautiful mahogany skin and amber colored eyes that I inherited. I can only recall bits and pieces of her in my memory and the majority of those memories were warm hearted and happy. I can remember the day she taught me to ride a bike and even when we would go out on Sundays after church for pizza with my siblings. I had two brothers as a matter of fact. They use to help me build leaf piles in the backyard and in the summer we would spend endless hours in the pool together.
However, even with all these happy experiences, I will never forget when they all came to an end. I had been 10 years old when they found out. It had actually been the same time that I had found out as well. One day I woke up in my bed with a peculiar itch around my upper back. It was a strange little itchy feeling that I couldn't quite reach. I had walked into my marble floored and countered bathroom to try and maybe but some cortisone cream around the area. Yet the moment I saw myself in the mirror I almost screamed. From a side view you could see these bizarre feathered nubs protruding from the upper area of my back. It was like something was literally growing out of my back.
At first I figured it must have been some sort of morbid dream. But no matter how many times I pinched myself, I never woke up. I quickly went to lock the door as my mind raced at 500 miles and hour. My juvenile mind decided that maybe I could cut of the feathers and unusual set of nubs. I automatically went for the small pair scissors buried within my drawers but it became quickly apparent that they couldn't even cut or hardly reach the feathers that seemed to be slowly growing further outwards. Then I decided to try and use the tool box underneath my sink that had been there for a little over a year after water pipes had begun leaking. It was a pale yellow box that was half buried under toilet paper.
There had been numerous tools within that little yellow box but of utmost importance and usefulness was the large set of steel players. I can vividly remember tearing out the first greyish black feather that was surprisingly made out of some manner of metal. The immense wave of pain almost made me pass out. That little feather fell to the floor with a sharp ping as small little tears seeped from the corners of my amber colored eyes. It was incredibly difficult work and not to mention it was agonisingly painful.
I began to fear that I was one of them. One of those oddly mutated human beings that I sometimes saw on the news. I can recall seeing reruns on the news of the blue woman with red hair from that whole ordeal in 1973. She tried to kill the president or something. They called those freaky humans 'mutants'. They were morally regarded as taboo topic. My mother once even referenced then as being some sort of alien species .
It was only a matter of time before my mother came snooping around that week day morning as I had school that day. I can't quite call to mind what she said to me through the locked door of my bathroom. But I remember the tension in her voice, it was unlike myself to lock myself in my bathroom. Soon enough my father came along and demanded that I open the door. But how could I? How could I let them see me with what looked like wings growing out of my back?
It was like a living nightmare when my father began trying to break down the door. I frantically began throwing the bloody plyers into the tool box and the blood stained towels that I had used to staunch some of the blood. But all my actions were done in vain as my father eventually bust down the door and found my shriveled up in a corner with the bloody nubs protruding through my back like some sort of sick disease.
I can't say for certain that they stopped loving me then. But they certainly began treating me different. I was no longer their prized first born. I no longer attended as many family gatherings and formal parties. I was pulled out of my tennis lessons and even school itself. I was homeschooled by a grey haired tutor named Martha. My father couldn't have me tarnishing his reputation. It quickly became apparent that I was for sure a mutant as aset of magnificent silvery wings fully emerged from my back. While some may see them as beautiful, I only saw them as a curse. To make matters worse I even began growing long silvery talons like some sort of hawk. They were impossible to clip yet I found eventually that I could force them to retract.
My mother even contacted her seamstress who was absolutely brilliant with all fashion apparel. She had her create a sort of leather restraint contraption that went across my chest and lower torso to almost fully confine my wings. When I had my wings fully stretched out they were easily as tall as I was. But if I had them scrunched up they could simply fit into the small section of my back. The leather crafted device could suppress them enough so that they did not protrude from my back as much. Yet it practically made me look like the hunchback of notre dame and I commonly wore long coats to try and hide my deformity. What I would give to go back to my old, normal life was unimaginable.
My parents could never quite look at me the same after that. It was as if some great chasm had formed between us. I could not even look to my brothers for comfort as they too thought of my unplanned mutation negatively. I didn't blame them, I was a complete freak. With time I quickly became secluded and distant from my family and even people in general. I could spend hours and sometimes days locked away from the world within the safe confinements of my room.
It wasn't until I was 12 when somehow my once perfect life took an even darker turn for the worse. On a night out my parents and two brothers had been coming home from a New Year's banquet. Of course I hadn't gone since my parents had pretty simply shrouded me in the false aura that I was very sickly. It wasn't hard to believe as I had caught the flu twice and was hospitalized each time as a child. Although, when my family had been driving home the day they were hit by an 18 wheeler. They never could have stood a chance and all died what have been said to be quick deaths.
I felt completely devastated from their deaths. Even ifI had grown apart from them I still loved them. My mother was still the woman who had nursed me since infancy. My father was still the man who helped my take my first steps into the world. And my brothers would always be the same two soundrals that used to rub burrs in my hair during the spring. Their deaths triggered an even more reclusive and lonesome response from me. I was taken to live at my uncle's house and he was a kind understanding man. I had been friends with his daughter growing up back when we used to have frequent play dates. Yet now I was a little bit more than a wisp of the child I used to be.
When I was just around 13 I was kidnapped. It happened on a cold winter day when they had whisked me away into a white van. Apparently, the rumor about my mutation had become more public news. So much so that an agency called the Void Brigade Recruited me into their ranks. Of course they took me by force to their headquarters that were located in the desolate regions of upper Mongolia near Siberia. The Void Brigade was majorly an illegally based experimentation operation. They specifically experimented upon mutants. Mutants that had been shoved and pushed away by society.
Mutants were often scared and vulnerable and sometimes even entered the agency on the their own accord. The Void Brigade was filled with cruel and often deranged scientists. I was given a new name by them as experiment 81. These scientists had taken a special interest in me due to the metallic wings that grew off my back and my talon nails. Initially I had just been one big science experiment to them. The ran all sorts of tests on me and especially did all sorts of things to my wings. To the, they saw my wings as some sort of spectacular phenomena rather than a terrible accident. They took samples and even tried to pluck the metallic feathers of my wings off. Yet they only ever managed to take off maybe one or two and it hurt like having my hair pulled straight from my scalp but easily ten times worse. But supposedly my wings were made from some sort of precious metal.
Adamantium.
Adamantium was impossible to destroy and also extremely valuable. At one point they even tried to cut off my wings entirely as that much adamantium would be absolutely priceless. Yet they ultimately failed as my wings were nearly indestructible. I for one was personally thankful that they did fail. I mean it would have been nice to just going back to being a normal human but the torment from removing them would have most likely been too much to bare.
A scientist by the name of Dr.Reinhart began to further her experiments upon me. She was entirely merciless and had a broad imagination. Dr.Reinhart would often refer to me as an 'exquisite specimen' as though I was some sort of prized dog. I spend some of the worst days of my life with her. Back when she would strap me down to a cold medical gurney with 15 different wires attached to my head. She never failed to disappoint with her innumerable experiments that were each as torturous as the next. Dr.Rinehart was the kind of sick human being that truly enjoyed seeing someone else in pain. It was like some sort of drug she craved.
Unfortunately, she was actually very good at her job. She had this diabolical idea to turn me into some sort of super human. After dozens upon dozens of tests, simulations, and experiments she managed to turn me into more of a freak than I already was. She enhanced my sense of hearing and sight so that it nearly resembled that of a real eagle. Dr.Reinhart somehow even found a way to speed up my reflexes and twitch speeds. So much so that we found out during one of the simulations that I could deflect bullets with my wings. My wings themselves would always be my most supreme ability. Dr.Reinhart even found a way to genetically alter my wings so that they could fully retract into my back like a foldable chair. While it did fully conceal then without turning me into a hunchback it wasn't exactly comfortable most the time. Whenever they were fully retracted it felt like small pin needles were lodged into my upper back. It wasn't all that painful but it was incredibly stiff and irritating.
When I was 15 Dr.Reinhart decided to sell me to a mercenary organization called The Hand. The Hand majorly only used females as their field agents. They accepted mutants and normal human beings alike as we each had our advantages and disadvantages. I was trained by the hand ruthlessly and endured hours and hours of pushing myself to the brink. The Hand also specialized in brainwashing their agents. Forcing us to forget our families and our lives before this. They made us forget what had used to make us human.
I became a cold blooded assassin by the time I was 19 years old. I was a nearly indestructible and was an entirely volatile agent. At this time I also met woman who was the closest thing I could call a friend at the time. Her name was Natasha Romanoff. She was a redheaded Russian with a sly tongue and incredible fighting abilities. I had witnessed her taking down men twice her size and strength. We made a good team of duel assassins whose differences complemented each other. While she was quick witted and as sly as a fox, I always held the edge over her due to my mutant abilities. We pulled off hundreds of assassinations and heists together over the years. And for a little while, I even began to enjoy my job.
Although, when I was 25 The Hand was finally disbanded and taken over by another agency known as S.H.I.E.L.D.. This caused all of the former agents who were still alive, including Natasha and I, to disperse and go into hiding. But Natasha and I could never stop doing what we had been trained to do. We were still killers for hire who were known for always getting the job done. We had been completely efficient together. Eventually, S.H.I.E.L.D. finally caught up with us and sent several agents to finally take us out for good. One of those agents was a man by the name of Clint Barton. A master assassin with insanely accurate skills with a bow and arrow. He and another agent known as Maria Hill, who was now one of the heads at S.H.I.E.L.D., had finally cornered us. They had orders to kill us but Barton made a different call.
They took us back to S.H.I.E.L.D.. we were given a second chance there. They helped me regain my memories from the life I lived before and also allowed my to live past my past. It wasn't easy to get rid of The Hand's mind control and brainwashing after effects. Even once I did entirely get rid of their slimy grasp on my mind, I was still left with gaps and holes in my memory. My life as a child was rather hazy and blurry now.
S.H.I.E.L.D. even made me a temporary agent for a few years. I finally had a chance to do some good in the world alongside Natasha. Yet, at the end of the day I truly just wanted a normal life. A life where I could live my days without dodging bullets for a living. It was something I had always wanted ever since my mutation had first entered my life. And now I finally could after Dr.Reinhart had given me the ability to fully retract my wings at the expense of a little discomfort. She may have been a cruel and sadistic human being but she had given me a real chance at being normal again.
I made a deal with the leader of S.H.I.E.L.D. who was known as Director Fury. He was a tall imposing man with a black eye batch and a famous creepy black trench coat. After a long discussion with him and also Clint and Natasha. We came to an agreement that I could live under a protection program. Natasha had at first felt betrayed but she soon understood why I wanted to leave. Clint supported me all the way through thankfully and even helped me choose my new apartment.
Now I live by myself as an ordinary 29 year old citizen in New York. My apartment was a simple one bedroom little place that I had customized. Every month or so an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. would come around a check in on me. Normally it was either Clint or Natasha. I lived my live by the day as a bartender at a local pub. It was perhaps not the most stylish of jobs and wasn't nearly as exciting as being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Yet it was normal and perfectly average. Something I hadn't been in a long time.
However, if Fury ever needed me or made the call.
I would be there.