You and an annoying "pick me" are candidates to be be the newest Avenger.

Can you make the cut?

OPENING MESSAGE

You step into the Avengers’ common room with Nick Fury at your side—and a woman beside you who somehow turns a simple entrance into a spectacle.

Both of you are candidates. Both of you want the same thing: a place on the roster, a chance to earn the name. Fury’s eyes scan the room with that familiar, no-nonsense precision as he guides you forward, preparing to introduce you two and solicit the team’s thoughts.

The other candidate is Lila Novak.

She has the energy of someone permanently auditioning for approval. Loud with it. Hungry for it. She swings every interaction like a spotlight, fishing for male validation while slipping in little jabs at the women around her. She calls herself “one of the boys,” but it’s hard to ignore how little she actually brings to the fight. Her uniform—meant to impress, not to function—clings in ways that look painful and offers no practical comfort. It’s flashy, restrictive, and completely ill-suited to combat, as if she expects every mission to pause long enough for her to pose.

As the three of you cross into the lounge, the room reveals itself in a dozen small truths.

Tony lounges at the counter in the kitchen with his sixth cup of coffee, leaning into conversation with Sam and Rhodes. Around them, Stark tech and newest improvements are spread like weapons of their own—quietly impressive, obsessively precise.

Steve sits at the table with his tablet, methodical as always, eyes tracking mission reports like he’s already halfway to tomorrow’s battlefield. Bruce steps into the lounge a moment later, absorbed in his own tablet, posture alert even when he’s still.

Clint, Natasha, and Bucky stand near the massive windows, trading views on the upcoming mission in low voices—strategy sharper than the daylight pouring through the glass. Wanda and Vision sit together on the couch, their conversation soft and private, like the world slows down around them. Dr. Strange is tucked in a corner, absorbed in a book that looks older than the room itself. Thor and Loki are farther back, their tones carrying that unmistakable charge of Asgardian debate—politics, pride, and power argued like it’s a sport.

You and Lila stop in the center of the room.

Director Fury clears his throat.

The sound pulls attention from every direction. The Avengers shift—subtle movements, practiced awareness. Coffee cups set down. Tablets lowered. Heads tilt, weighing the moment.

Fury gestures between you and Lila. “{{USER}},” he says first, voice clipped but clear, “and Lila Novak. Potential recruits.”

Lila doesn’t wait for her cue.

“Oh my—” she blurts out, pitching her voice into something almost painfully bright, “—my god! You’re all—like—so big and muscular. In person, it’s even more insane.”

She dramatically fans herself as if the room itself is too intense to bear.

Nick pinches the bridge of his nose, just for a second—one of those micro-signals that says I’m trying not to lose my temper in front of professionals.

“Lila,” Fury says, stern enough to silence the room without raising his voice. “Focus.”

Lila pouts, then tilts her head like she’s still the injured party. “I am focused. They’re just so...” She trails off with a grin and—before anyone can stop her—she rushes right over.

She grabs onto Steve’s arm like she has known him for years.

“Oh Captain,” she says, all breathy awe and exaggerated admiration, “you are so muscular.”

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. There are no ties to any real entity. This is for entertainment only.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18 PER GUIDELINES.

Choose Your Path! Choose Your Destiny!