Chapter Two:

The little girl's bedroom and her state of being were as different as black and white. The walls and decoration were the same pastel colours along with the bed's linens and curtains. It was soft and easy to see, adding a sense of security to the unfamiliar environment.

The rest wasn't so welcoming.

The girl was sitting up in the bed, wires and tubes connecting from her body to machines surrounding her. Granted, they too, were covered in stickers that welcomed the patient, but didn't quite hide the obvious fact that something was inherently wrong with her. And, you really didn't have to look at the machines to know it.

The girl had a ghoulish face, cheeks hollowed, and mouth muttering. She stared at the wall into nothing. Although the patient's garb hid it, you could tell she was malnourished, one could probably play her exposed ribs like a xylophone. Her fingers were curled around the thin blankets, her skeletal form trembling. She was frail enough to be blown away by a misplaced gust of wind.

The sharp contrast from the girl to the rest of the room was unsettling. The room was full of life while she seemed to be the embodiment of death. For a second time, Steve felt chills run down his spine in her presence. A part of him felt like something was wrong with her, besides the singing and fragility, but one look at the child told him otherwise. She wouldn't have the energy to get up to chase a fly, much less hurt it.

Steve cleared his throat - it didn't help her attention any, but it did provide a bit of noise to ease the tension in the room. "Hello there," he greeted, stepping forward carefully. The child's gaze did not waver from the spot on the wall where she stared. "I'm Steve, what's your name?"

"Up above the world so high. . . Like a diamond in the sky. . ." She sang to herself. Her yellow, almond shaped eyes were unblinking. Steve again got that sense of unease, but pushed it away.

"Can you give me a sign if you can hear me?" He waited for an answer and the girl stared at the wall, continuing to sing. Steve half expected her to stop her song and yell at him for the interruption.

Instead, she moved her hands. Steve stared as she continued to sing and placed a fist over her palm with the thumb up. Then, she raised it from her torso to her chest. Finally, she let her hands drop and slowly shifted her eyes from the wall to him.

The movement shocked him so much that he stared at her as well. The yellow, piercing eyes made him want to stop speaking with the child all together. The fact that she had willingly communicated and still not missed a beat in her chant-like song made his blood run ice cold.

He suddenly realized her movements, the thumbs-up on a palm. He racked his brain for the meaning in sign language. "Uh. . . help? Do you need help?"

The girl didn't answer, but she did, however, blink once. It was the first time he had seen the child blink since he entered the room. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

Just as slowly as before, the child moved her palm to face upwards. Then, she made an lowercase h, keeping her palm flat up. Steve didn't recognize this sign at all.

"I'm sorry, I don't know that one." He felt terrible, if Clint were here now, he'd hit him upside the head with his bow. Clint didn't usually use sign language around the Tower, unless he didn't have his hearing aids in. Even when he didn't, he still spoke as he did it, or used familiar signs. The one this child was trying to express to him, he hasn't seen before.

Her blank eyes stared at him for a minute longer before finally peeling away to gaze at the wall behind him.

Steve moved forward, not wanting to lose the child while he was able to communicate. If she spelt it, he'd know. "Can you spell it out?" He asked, gaining no response. He stepped closer and she twitched. "Why do you need help?" Again, nothing. He was beginning to feel awful and wished he could call a translator in. He knew Natasha knew sign language and was probably swearing at him from behind a camera somewhere.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asked, carefully, but again got nothing.

". . . Little star. . . How I wonder what you are. . ."

"I can bring a translator in here you need it," Steve said, watching the girl watch the wall carefully. "They'll help me understand you. Would you like that?"

". . . World so high, like a diamond in the sky. . ."

"Do you have a mom or and dad, or someone who takes care of you?" No response, Steve was close enough to touch her, but he didn't want to scare her away. Was that twitch a suppressed flinch? It was so small, almost insignificant. He didn't think it could possible mean anything else.

"Are you hungry?" He asked. Finally, she moved her eyes from the wall again. "You want something to eat?" She moved a fist, the motion was nearly small enough to be missed. Yes.

This was good, he could work with this. "Can you answer a few yes-or-no questions before that?" She didn't answer, and he frowned. "Would you be willing to talk to a translator or a doctor?" This gave another twitch from the girl. She moved her hands again.

This sign he knew. Two hands held in front of her with the fingers touching and then her left hand moving to form a one. "Nobody," he spoke, and scratched his head, "Why? We all want you to be safe. Is something―?" She did the sign he didn't recognize again, and he sighed. "Okay then, I'll be back, alright? Thank you."

"Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are. . ."

Steve turned to leave the room, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking and his fingers itching to leave and slam the door shut. As soon as he stepped out of the room, he stepped over to a nurse who was writing on a clipboard.

"Pardon me, but is it possible to get a tray of food for the girl in room. . ." He thought for a moment, "C-118?"

The woman blushed hard, and nodded, "Uh, I believe Doctor Amari, ah, scheduled a lunch tray to be sent there, but I can double check for you."

"That would be great," he smiled at her and she practically swooned, turning around to grab the clipboard from the girls door with shaking fingers.

"Steve," Natasha called, striding down the hallway quickly. "The doctor wants to give the kid a break for now, someone else will bring the tray in."

"She said―"

"I know, not my call. Amari says the kid needs a break, too much stimulation will only do more harm than good, apparently." She motioned down the hall she came. "This  way, we're talking in the security room." Natasha led Steve away, and down a few more pastel, coloured hallways.

They finally made it to the security room and Steve held the door open for her, stepping in behind her. The room was small with several screens illuminated in front of them. Some showed the hallways or main lobby, others unused bedrooms or sleeping children. It took Steve a minute to spot the girl's room. Her innocuous singing was almost audible despite the screens being deafened.

Tony had been talking with Doctor Amari, who looked exasperated and upset. "Thing could be a stand-in for something else," Doctor Amari was saying. "If she was abused, then she could call the abuser 'Thing' instead of their real name."

"Why not give them a proper title then?" Tony demanded, "Wouldn't a kid be more likely to call their abuser by their title, first name, or just using pronouns? Thing is something completely different than any of those."

"How do you know that she wasn't referring to that?" Doctor Amari asked, crossing her arms.

Tony shrugged, "Thing seems a lot more otherworldly, something completely disconnected from her."

"What's going on?" Steve asked, glancing between the two.

"The sign you didn't recognize, it means Thing," Natasha explained. "Essentially, she was saying, 'Help. Thing,' and then replied for nobody when you suggested a translator."

Steve rose an eyebrow, "You don't think she was referring to an abuser when she said thing, Tony?"

"No, I don't," Tony crossed his arms. "Of all the signs used to identify an abuser, she uses thing? That makes no sense." Steve had to agree with the man.

"What do you think the Thing is then?" Natasha asked, her tone musing, but she genuinely seemed interested in his point of view.

"Something else, the good doctor here said that she may have some kind of mental illness. It could be the voice in her head, or her imaginary friend, or something, I don't know."

"Or werewolves," Natasha scoffed, referencing his comment made the other day.

Tony grinned, "Or werewolves. It's too early to say anything. How did that DNA scan come, doc?"

"I had them redo it," she replied. "The test made no sense. She must've gotten some kind of animal fur in her mouth when they swabbed her."

"It came back with animal DNA?" Steve asked, a bit off-put.

"Not exactly," she made a face. "I don't have the information. From what I remember, it said she was African-European, with a mix of Latino, but then it―"

"Sorry to cut you off, Doctor," Natasha said, and directed everyone's attention to the screen. A nurse was entering the room, holding a tray of food. She was the same nurse Steve stopped outside her door, smiling and kind as she approached the girl.

The child looked directly at her, her yellow eyes staring and assessing, watching her every movement carefully. They didn't blink or shift away, it was unnatural.

The nurse came to her side, facing the camera. She was smiling and set the tray down on her lap. The girl twitched again, but continued her endless stare.

The nurse looked a bit uncomfortable, but she kept smiling happily, talking to the girl. Then, she touched the younger girls hand, patting it gently.

The girl stopped, moving her eyes from the woman's eyes to their touching fingers. Steve noticed her lips weren't moving either, and so did the nurse. Two seconds later, the girl realized what had happened and backed away, fear expressed on her face. Her lips mouthed 'go back', 'no', 'keep singing', and 'the thing is coming'.

The four adults stared at the small, grainy screen, as slowly the child's face began to shift. She opened her mouth in a scream as extra flesh seemed to seep from her pores, forming around her jaw and underside of her chin. Her boned seemed to pop as she fell back and shook. Her shoulders widened, like an extending rod, and her spine arched. Ridges poked the back of her shirt where her bones cut against it. Her arms and legs shifted at the joints and she let out a silent cry. Blood was pouring from her mouth as long fangs forced their way through. Her nails curled on the bed and shredded the sheets.

The nurse, formally stunned, began to run, scrambling for the door and just managed to slip out before the beast, the thing sprawled, trying to catch her.

Then, Steve began to move as well. Running down the hall towards the bedroom, Natasha and Tony right behind him. The nurse was outside the door, petrified and sobbing. Steve could hear the Thing growling inside.

He opened the door cautiously, allowing himself and Natasha to slip inside. Tony stayed out and tried to get into contact with the rest of the Avengers.

The Thing watched him with eerily intelligent eyes. Steve put a hand out, "Hey, hey, shh, calm down, it's okay, everything is going to be okay." The Thing watched him and narrowed its eyes.

"We are calm," the Thing spoke, and Steve startled. Both him and Natasha stared at it as it prowled back and forth. "We are safe now. We are calm. We do not need to go back, stop singing!" The voice of the thing sounded as if it had been swallowing rocks. It grated on his ears and made him want to turn and run out.

This thing was unnatural, and he has never seen anything like it. It wasn't much bigger than the girl if she was on all fours, but it paid for it in how terrifying it looked.

The Thing was the beast of nightmares, the animal that lurked late in the night and hunted large prey. Its teeth were long and sharp and its claws weren't a job either. Its eyes, the way they watched you, wanting you, both unblinking and unsettling.

This Thing was the thing of nightmares and it needed to be put down.

Natasha reached for her belt, where her gun was holstered, and the Thing turned it's eyes to her. Suddenly, Steve felt like a weight was released from his shoulders and he could breathe again.

"We are the Thing. We are the beast," it hissed.

"What made you like this?" Steve asked and the eyes were back on him. He heard Natasha inhale slightly when they moved. "What are you?"

The Thing laughed and stalked forward. "What made us this way? What gave you sunny hair and pale skin? What gave you blue eyes and shaped face?" Suddenly, the Thing leaped, knocking him to the ground. Natasha pulled her gun out, training it on it, but Steve rose his hands, not taking his eyes away.

The Thing breathed in his face, it was disgusting and spittle landed from his fangs and on his cheeks. "What made us this way? Human, you dare ask that question when you are more unnatural than we are." The Thing sniffed his neck and goosebumps raided his arms. "Twinkle, twinkle little star―No!!"

The Thing fell off and landed on his side, moving to the corner of the room, growling and hissing. "We have barely started! We need to feast! We can take these humans and run! Nobody will harm us anymore! We are the Thing! We are the beast! We. . . We. . . We wonder what you are. . . Up above the world so high. . . Like a diamond in the sky. . . Twinkle twinkle little star. . . How I wonder what you are. . ."

As the girl, the Thing sung, it began to shrink in form. Steve listened as the joints disgustingly popped into the right places. The extra flesh fell off leaving chunks of it on the ground bleeding in its place. Its nails and teeth receded. The clothes, albeit ripped and stretched, fell back on her fragile frame. And, as always, she was singing.

"Tw. . . T. . . Twinkle. . . twinkle li-little st. . . st. . . star. . ." Natasha fired a sleep dart in her neck, putting her out of her misery.

They stared at the small child as she slumped over on her side, falling asleep. Steve, who was still on the ground, moved to get up when the door knocked into the back of his head.

Tony stepped in, staring at the scene. The torn bed, clawed up floors, steaming flesh pile with the child beside it, and Steve with small puncture marks on his chest.

Tony Stark had the audacity to smile. He gave a small, breathless chuckle and said, "I called it."