Avengers Unassmebled - *TG/AR* (Patreon)

You're with the Avengers, ready for a confrontation with the mad titan himself, Thanos. His towering figure stands ominously, his gauntlet studded with the dazzling, menacing glow of the infinity stones. He doesn't seem perturbed by your presence; instead, there's a smirk playing on his lips, a clear sign of his overwhelming arrogance. One look at him and you know - the fate of the universe is at stake here.

"Iron Man, always the one to meddle where it's not necessary," Thanos begins, his deep voice resonating with an uncanny calmness, completely contrasting the tension of the situation. He looks at you, then slowly shifts his gaze to the rest of the Avengers.

Next to you, Steve Rogers, Captain America, stands resolute and proud, his patriotic uniform almost blinding under the harsh light of this alien land. His blue eyes gleam with unwavering resolve, the line of his jaw set in a rigid, inflexible determination. "We meddle where people need us, Thanos," he retorts.

Then there's Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, her fiery auburn hair a striking contrast against the sleek black of her suit. Her stance oozes the grace of a lethal predator, her green eyes focused and alert. "You're the one meddling with the universe, aren't you?" she remarks coolly.

To her right is Thor, the god of thunder himself, holding Stormbreaker, his eyes blazing with power and determination. Lightning dances in the air around him, mirroring his tempestuous mood. "Your reign of terror ends now, Thanos!" he roars, stepping forward.

Bruce Banner, who has made peace with his alter ego, stands to your left. The Hulk, a massive figure of pure rage and raw power, has his luminous green eyes focused solely on Thanos. He growls, "Hulk smash puny titan."

Clint Barton, the Hawkeye, stands a little behind. With his trusted bow and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder, he’s the silent but steady backbone of your team. "Let’s put an end to this," he says, his voice steady and resolute.

"You little heroes, always so eager to play the savior," Thanos mocks, sneering at you. "How about playing a different role for a change?"

You can't resist a reply, "Oh, we know our place, alright. And it's right here, stopping you."

Then the battle erupts. A cacophony of sounds fills the air - blasts, shouts, the sounds of metal clashing. You give it your all, every single one of you, but Thanos seems to be barely affected.

He uses the Reality Stone, turning the desolate landscape into a bustling cityscape, people screaming and running, creating utter chaos and confusion. "Change of scenery," he smirks, clearly amused by your team's surprise.

"Where are we?" Natasha calls out, maintaining her calm.

"Does it matter? Let's finish this," you reply, your suit powering up again. However, Thanos has other plans.

"How about playing a different role?" He repeats, snapping his fingers. A blinding light envelops everything, and when it subsides, you're not in a battlefield or a city anymore.

You're in a little girl's bedroom, feeling different, lighter. "What just happened?" you hear your voice, higher pitched and much softer. And the biggest fight of your lives has just become much, much more complicated.

Awakening in the bedroom, you lift your small, delicate hands to your face in disbelief. With a sense of trepidation, you totter over to the mirror. A little girl of about six years old stares back at you. She is a vision of innocence with big, twinkling brown eyes and long, chestnut hair tied up in two neat pigtails. She's wearing frilly pink pajamas adorned with kittens and hearts, an ensemble that matches the girly decor of the room. The youthful face in the mirror has a touch of familiarity, reminding you of your own daughter, Morgan. But the reflection isn't Morgan's—it's yours.

As you stare at your reflection, a female voice calls out from outside the room, "Toni, honey, it's time to get up!"

When you don't respond, the voice tries again, this time with a different name. "Antonia, sweetheart, we don't want to be late for school."

Your heart jolts at the mention of school. You haven't been to school in decades. Just as you're trying to process what's happening, a woman walks in. She's in her early thirties, with kind eyes and a warm smile, radiating an aura of maternal affection. She's not Pepper. She doesn't look anything like your mother either, but somehow, she seems familiar.

"Mommy, I..." you begin to say, but your voice sounds peculiar, your words restricted to the limited vocabulary of a child.

She laughs and ruffles your hair, "Oh, Antonia, I love you too" she says, not even really listening right now.

She proceeds to get you ready for school, guiding you through each step. The process is unnervingly different from your usual morning routine. From brushing your teeth with a pink, unicorn-themed toothbrush to putting on a pleated skirt and blouse, the whole experience is alien. And it doesn't help that you refer to her as 'mommy' in your mind, not able to shake off the feeling of deference and reliance.

Despite your objections and attempts to assert your adult identity, she manages to make you giggle a few times, tucking you into a cute dress and fastening shiny Mary Jane shoes onto your feet. You can't deny a certain amount of girlish delight at the sight of the sparkling shoes.

As you are settled into a booster seat in the back of a minivan, you're still trying to figure out what happened. Thanos. The battle. The snap. The reality stone. As the car pulls away, you look out the window and try to come to terms with your new reality. Your head is filled with thoughts, ideas, and an overwhelming sense of confusion. As you drive to school, you have no choice but to go along with your new life. For now, you are Antonia Stark, a little girl on her way to school.

As you sit in the booster seat, your tiny legs swinging freely, you muster the courage to tell your mommy the truth. Turning towards her, you take a deep breath and begin, struggling with the words.

"Mommy, you'se not gonna bewieve me, but I not Antonia... I'se Tony... Tony Stark," you explain, the lisp making your words sound more childlike. "You'se know? Da big man who makes da 'obots and goes 'oom' 'oom' in da big metal suit?"

Your mother chuckles, looking at you through the rearview mirror, "Oh, sweetheart, that's a funny dream. Did you dream of Iron Man again?"

The conversation continues in this vein, the more you attempt to explain, the more convoluted your explanation becomes. It's like trying to translate an intricate scientific theory into toddler speak, except the toddler is you.

"And, and... There was dis bad guy, Thanos, he was big and puwple and mean. And he had dis shiny rock and...and...he did a snap and... and... now I'm... I'm Antonia?" you say, your eyebrows knotting in confusion as you try to understand it yourself.

Your mother simply smiles, giving you a comforting pat on the head. "Well, that sounds like a very exciting dream, Antonia. But you are my little girl. Always have been, always will be."

Your attempts to convince your mother, it seems, are futile. At least for now. With a sigh, you lean back into your booster seat, deciding to wait and figure things out. After all, you are Tony Stark. Or at least, you were. For now, you are Antonia, a little girl with a peculiar dream.

As your mother's minivan pulls up to a bright, pastel-colored building, you squint at the sign hanging over the entrance - 'Thanoria Elementary School'. You feel a twinge of unease; the name seems vaguely familiar, a name you'd rather forget, but you can't quite place it. It sounds a bit like...no, it couldn't be.

Your mother helps you out of the car and adjusts your pink Minnie Mouse backpack on your shoulders, then bends down to your level. "Have a great day, Antonia. Mommy will pick you up after school."

With a small wave, she drives off, leaving you standing there, feeling incredibly small and lost. You glance around, the throng of parents and children seem so big, so loud. Suddenly, you're not Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. You're Antonia, first-grader, with a lisp and a backpack that feels too heavy.

Just when you feel the panic creeping in, a familiar face peeks out from the crowd. A little girl with strawberry-blond hair and freckles. She skips over to you, a wide grin on her face. "Hey, Antonia!"

"Hi, S-Sara," you reply, finding it oddly difficult to speak in front of her.

"I got a new Iron Man action figure!" Sara says excitedly, pulling out a small, plastic figure from her bag.

That's when it clicks. The familiar face, the mention of Iron Man, it can only mean one thing. "Steve?" you squeak, your voice barely a whisper.

Sara, or rather Steve, nods, her grin growing even wider. "Yep, that's me!" She throws her arms around you, giving you a big, excited hug.

As you return the hug, still in shock, you can't help but feel a tiny bit less alone. In this strange new reality, at least you're not alone. After all, you've got Captain America by your side, even if she is a six-year-old girl named Sara now.

Sara grabs your hand, tugging you toward the school building. She's chattering excitedly, every sentence bubbling out of her with the rapid fire pace of an over-caffeinated squirrel.

"My mommy made me pancaketh for breakfast this morning," she tells you, "and then I got dressed all by myself. I got a new dress, it's blue! Just like...like Captain America."

You listen, smiling a bit. It's strange, hearing the once stoic and somber Steve Rogers talking about pancakes and dresses.

Sara pauses, digging in her backpack. "Oh! I gotta show you this!" she pulls out a picture, a photograph of a group of little girls in matching Girl Scout uniforms. "It's us, Toni! We're all there! Nat and Clint and...and everybody!"

You squint at the picture, trying to match the little girls with your teammates. "Is that...is that Bruce?" you ask, pointing at a curly-haired girl with glasses.

"Yeah, isn't that funny?" Sara giggles, then her smile falters a bit. "But...I dunno, Toni. It feels weird. Like...like we're not supposed to be like this. Do...do you feel weird too?"

You nod, biting your lip. "Yeah. I...I feel like...like I can't talk right. Like...like all the big words are gone."

"Big...big words?" Sara asks, tilting her head.

"Vocab...vocabil...voc...big words," you correct, frowning. "I can't say them. I can't remember them."

Sara nods, looking thoughtful. "I...I have that too. I stutter now. It...it's hard to talk."

The bell rings then, cutting your conversation short. But as you walk into class, hand in hand with Sara, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can figure this out. After all, you're Avengers. You can handle anything. Even if 'anything' now includes first grade, Girl Scouts, and forgetting how to pronounce 'vocabulary'.

Walking into class, your heart pounds with nervous anticipation. A room full of tiny tables and chairs greets you, along with colorful posters of the alphabet, numbers, and various types of animals on the walls. At the front of the class is a blackboard with the words "Mrs. F's First Grade Class" written in chalk.

A young woman is seated behind the teacher's desk, looking up from her paperwork as the two of you enter. She has a deep skin tone, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. An eye patch covers one eye, but the other glows with a warm, welcoming light.

"Sara, Antonia," she greets you both, with a nod of her head. Something about her seems familiar, though you can't quite put your finger on it. "Please, take your seats. We're about to start class."

As the day goes on, you find the material being taught frustratingly difficult. You struggle with basic addition, sounding out simple words is a struggle and you can't even seem to hold a pencil correctly. Every time you try to remember how you did it as Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist, the memories seem hazy and out of reach.

By the time lunch rolls around, you're nearly in tears from the frustration. You're used to being the smartest person in the room, not the slowest to learn. But as you sit there, eating your peanut butter and jelly sandwich, you remind yourself that you're an Avenger. You've faced down aliens, gods, and world-ending catastrophes. You can handle first grade. You just have to figure out what's going on, and how to fix it.

There you are, sitting on a diminutive chair in the school's cafeteria, your little legs swinging as they can't reach the floor. You're with Sara, or rather, Steve Rogers, and a group of familiar little girls who also happen to be the Avengers, or they used to be.

Sara, now a strawberry blonde girl with big blue eyes, eagerly takes on the role of introducer, starting with Natalie, the reserved redhead. "Natalie, this is Antonia!" she exclaims. You extend your tiny hand towards her.

"N-nice to meet you, Natalie," you say, your lisp making the words sound even more childish than you mean them to be. Natalie simply nods in return, her blue eyes serious.

"And that's H-Haley," Sara says, gesturing to a little blonde girl. Haley raises her hand in a shy wave. "H-h-hi," she stammers, her eyes shifting away quickly.

Then there's Bridget, a petite brunette with oversized glasses and an aura of shyness. "H-hello, Antonia," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

The last girl, Thea, has golden hair and is clearly a foreigner. "Hallo," she greets you, her pronunciation heavy with a Scandinavian accent.

Now that introductions are out of the way, you try to start a discussion about your current predicament. "D-does anyone...um, remember being...um, big?" you ask. There's a pause as the girls look at you with confusion.

"I remember being big!" Sara exclaims, completely misunderstanding your question. "My big brother Tommy always says I'm a shrimp, but I'm not a shrimp! I'm big too!"

Natalie nods in agreement, "Yeah, my mom says I'm big enough to start taking ballet classes." The conversation quickly derails from there.

Thea begins talking about her older brother back in Sweden who is 'soooo big' that he can reach the cookies on the top shelf. Haley contributes by saying her dad is 'the biggest', and Bridget blushes and mumbles something about hoping to get bigger so she can ride all the rollercoasters at the amusement park.

And just like that, the conversation veers off towards the world of a six-year-old. Despite your attempts to steer it back, it's futile. You all end up discussing your favorite colors, TV shows, and which Disney princess you'd like to be.

Before you know it, the lunch bell rings, signalling the end of your break. You never even got to discuss your plan, or lack thereof. With a heavy sigh, you pick up your princess-themed lunchbox and trudge back towards your classroom, leaving the remnants of your failed meeting behind. Are you still the Avengers? It seems like that identity could be slipping away from you all.

The gym is a place of uncertainty and fear for you as Antonia. Gym class was never your favorite subject back when you were Tony, and it has only grown more treacherous now. The gym is large, high-ceilinged, and full of echoes. The squeak of sneakers, the thump of balls, the shrill sound of the coach’s whistle, and the other children’s laughter all seem magnified.

As the second smallest girl in your class, only Bridget being tinier, the odds always seem to be stacked against you. You notice Bridget nearby, she seems equally apprehensive about the impending class. She adjusts her oversized glasses nervously. You try to offer her a comforting smile but you're not sure if it comes across.

Today, the activity is dodgeball. The mere thought of the game sends your heart racing. The balls are larger than your head, and the other kids always throw with such force. Your little body feels fragile and vulnerable in the face of potential projectiles.

With a shrill blast of the coach's whistle, the game begins. Chaos ensues as the balls start flying in every direction. You try to keep to the sides, hoping to avoid the brunt of the game. But your luck runs out when an errant ball thumps into your side.

The pain is immediate and intense. It's like nothing you've ever felt before, it radiates throughout your small frame. Involuntarily, you let out a loud, piercing wail that silences the gymnasium. Tears stream down your face, you're crying uncontrollably, the pain overwhelming your senses.

The game halts and the teacher quickly comes over, while you huddle on the gym floor, sobbing. The gym echoes with your cries, but in that moment, you're not Tony Stark, nor are you Antonia Stark. You're just a small, hurt child, bawling over a pain you can't handle. The feeling of helplessness floods over you as you are comforted by your coach, but the pain remains, a stark, pun intended,  reminder of your new reality.

Led by the nurse, a kindly woman whose lilting British accent whispers of familiarity, you find yourself in the heart of the school's nurse's office. It's Pepper - but not the CEO of Stark Industries, rather, a loving and caring woman who seems utterly content with her role as the school nurse.

She tucks you into a bed, the sheets crisp and cold against your legs. The scent of antiseptic, faint but present, mingles with the sweet aroma of strawberry hand sanitizer. An array of posters on the wall sings a symphony of color - the food pyramid, the stages of a butterfly's life cycle, the basic arithmetic table.

"Now, now, sweetheart," she soothes as she places a chill, comforting ice pack on your side, "Does that hurt, pumpkin?" Her voice is a lullaby of reassurance and you nod, the hurt radiating in pulsating waves from your side.

She reaches up and fetches a stuffed bear from the top shelf. "Here, sweetie, Mr. Cuddles will help you feel better." The teddy bear is soft and warm in your small hands, its eyes shiny buttons of understanding.

Pepper dials a number, her fingers working with practiced efficiency. After a brief exchange with the person on the other end, she hands the phone to you. "Your mummy would like to talk to you."

"Hello, my darling Antonia," your mom's voice flows from the receiver, a stream of soothing words that cascade over your hurt. "My brave little princess, are you alright?"

Between sobs, you manage to stammer, "It...it hurts, mommy."

Your mom's voice, soft as down feathers, hums through the phone. "Oh, my precious girl, I know it does. But you're my strong little princess. You can handle this, can't you?"

Despite everything, you find yourself nodding, a small part of you warmed by her faith in you. "Y...Yes, mommy."

"That's my brave girl," she says, her voice full of love. "You remember that even princesses can be warriors, don't you? And it's okay to cry, darling. Crying shows how sensitive and beautiful your heart is."

Hearing your mom's voice calling you sensitive, fragile, yet brave and strong, makes you feel strangely calm. You are her little princess. And right now, that feels...right.

"Alright, Antonia. You rest. I'll come pick you up soon, okay?" she finishes, her voice full of promise.

After hanging up, your tears subside, replaced by a sense of calm acceptance. Your gaze lands on Mr. Cuddles. His button eyes seem understanding and kind. You hug him close, his soft plushiness comforting.

"You can keep Mr. Cuddles, dear," Pepper tells you, patting your head gently. "Stay here until the end of the school day, alright? I'll check on you periodically."

The remainder of the school day, you spend in the quiet company of Mr. Cuddles, the occasional sounds of the school day ticking by in the background. Your world has changed dramatically, but amidst it all, you are finding small pockets of comfort and familiarity. This is your new reality, strange, different, but not all bad. You are more little Toni each second. Clinging to Mr. Cuddles gives you more comfort.

As you clutch Mr. Cuddles tighter, the world outside starts to fade. Then, you hear a voice. It's deep, gravelly, and all too familiar - Thanos. A chill runs down your spine as his laughter echoes within your mind, cold and devoid of any humanity.

"So, my little pests have woken up to their new reality," he drawls, every word etching into your consciousness. "I must say, this is more enjoyable than I thought it would be. You, Antonia, a little, helpless, school girl. Isn't this far better than being a hero burdened with saving the world? You have no idea how amusing this is."

Fear prickles the back of your neck, coursing through your veins like an icy stream. Your grip on Mr. Cuddles tightens, the comforting texture of his fur the only real thing in this swirling nightmare.

"Are you scared, Antonia?" Thanos mocks, a cruel chuckle interweaving with his words. "Soon, you will forget everything. This will be your reality, your prison. You and your little friends, living out your unremarkable, girly lives. You will never remember being Avengers. You will never remember your past."

A sob catches in your throat, choking off your breath. This can't be happening, you think, but the cold realization of the truth is there, gnawing at your heart. This is your reality now. A scared, little girl with no recollection of her heroic past, no knowledge of her powers.

In your terror, you find yourself calling out, "Mommy!" The word is a desperate plea, an echo of your helplessness. You hear Thanos' laughter again, louder this time.

"Oh, how I wish I could see you now," he chortles, his amusement palpable. "Crying out for your mommy. So vulnerable, so weak. Maybe I should have made you younger, more helpless."

His words strike you like a physical blow, making your heart hammer in your chest. The fear is suffocating, the sheer helplessness is crushing. You cry out again, tears streaming down your face as Thanos' laughter rings in your ears.

Your world is changing, your past is fading. In the end, Thanos has won, and you, the mighty Tony Stark, have been reduced to a terrified, vulnerable little girl. And you are absolutely terrified.