LIVING PROOF
— 001. ARENA FIGHT

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    TIME MOVED ON, PEOPLE FORGOT AND NAMES DISAPPEARED. THINGS CHANGED, THE NEWS WAS DIFFERENT AND HEROS FADED. But for Rosemary Rogers, it never moved forward. Not really, she was stuck in a constant loop of what she once had in her life that was now all gone.

   It had been years since that day in the park — since she first met a boy who would mean more to her than most ever would. And now? He was gone. No trace, no goodbye. Nothing from the one she loved dearly apart from his presence no longer being felt in her heart.

    Steve was gone, too. Dead. Buried beneath the earth with a folded flag and the weight of a thousand unspoken goodbyes resting on his casket.

    She still remembered the way the dirt had hit the coffin lid with a final, echoing thud. She still remembers the silent tears that ran down her cheeks watching her father be separated from her once more.

     And the Avengers? Gone. Scattered to the wind like ash after a fire that burned too hot for too long. The world had changed. But more than anything... Rose had changed.

     She wasn't the same girl who used to glow when she laughed, who used to fly through the clouds with ribbons of light trailing behind her, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Earth's mightiest heroes and made the world believe in hope again.

   That girl — Lady Lumora — had died somewhere between her father's final heartbeat and Bob's disappearance.

    No one had found her body. But Rose knew, because she lived inside the hollow where that girl used to be.

     Now, she walked among people in shadow, hiding behind aliases. "Clara." "Peggy." "Nina." Names she borrowed and discarded like old coats. Never the real one, never Rose. And never, ever Lady Lumora.

   That name was a whisper now, but she knew people still believed she was out there watching over them. Little did they know.

     She still helped, of course. Sometimes. If she was there when something bad happened — a mugging, a burning building, a runaway car — she'd act without hesitation. Strength still surged through her limbs, light still hummed beneath her skin. She had never stopped being capable of saving people, but she never told them who she was.

     When someone dared to ask — their eyes wide, pointing with trembling fingers, "You look just like her — like Lady Lumora — are you...?"

     She'd smile faintly and shake her head like clock work, "I get that a lot." Lie, again. It made her feel sick. A coward. But the fear... the fear had teeth. Because once you lose the people who make you feel real, it's hard to keep believing you even exist.

     So she stayed hidden. Not just from the world — but from herself. Because deep down, she knew she was just a coward and too scared to face the new world without her father or Bob by her side. She couldn't do it.

     Even now, sitting in the dimly lit locker room of a battered underground arena, that weight clung to her shoulders like a second skin. She'd liked it there, it was one of the places where no one could find her, well apart from Bucky or Sam as they were always watching out for her.

     Rose distracted herself mostly with jobs from Val, but most of the time she denied doing them much to Val's displeasure, but Rose knew she had to take on some to get information out of her on Bob. That was the only reason she had a connection to Val, otherwise she wouldn't thick twice about it.

    The air smelled like sweat and chalk, and the dull hum of broken lights flickered overhead. She sat on a narrow metal bench, elbows resting on her knees as she wrapped cloth around her knuckles and wrists in steady, practiced motions.

    Her jaw was tight. Her body, wired and coiled like a spring. This was one of the few places she didn't have to lie — because no one cared who she was, and no one bothered to ask. They only cared how hard she could hit.

     The fight torment was for people with abilities and powers. It gave them a chance to show them off, and use them for a chance to make a living since the Avengers were no more. Rose never really used all her powers, she only really used her telekinesis, as it always got the job done.

     The crowd roared outside — a roar that echoed down the corridor like a crashing wave. The last match had ended, and hers was next. She didn't flinch at the noise. Instead, she reached into the locker beside her and pulled out a small, worn photo. Two, actually.

   One of them was her and Steve — taken after a mission, both of them covered in grime and bruises, smiling anyway. His arm around her, squishing her tightly against his chest. Her cheeks smudged with soot, but her grin radiant.

     The second was more faded, its edges curling. Her and Bob. She was maybe thirteen, hair pulled into a high ponytail, laughing while he tried to dodge the camera. He hadn't liked pictures, but she had caught him mid-smile. His real smile — the one he didn't let many people see.

     Rose stared at the photos for a long moment. Her fingers brushed lightly over their surfaces, "Wish me luck," She whispered, but they never answered.

     Just as she was tucking them away, the curtain at the edge of the room rustled, and a man's head poked in. Ted. The bookie who ran the underground matches. He was greasy, loud and for some reason always chewing gum like it owed him money.

     "You're up, sunshine." He grinned widely which was something that made her skin crawl seeing it, and he winked, "Crowd's getting restless."

   She didn't look at him and just nodded her head sharply still glancing at her photos in her locker that she placed. He took the hint and vanished again back into the hallway.

     Rose stood, rolling her shoulders, letting the tension shake off her muscles like cold water. She shut her locker door with a firm click. The sound echoed in the small space. It felt final, like sealing a vault maybe for the last time.

    As she stepped into the tunnel that led to the cage — a cage surrounded by screaming, sweaty onlookers who bet money on whether someone would bleed first — the announcer's voice blared over the broken intercom.

      "Up next — the undefeated girl with fists like tanks and eyes like a storm — The Ghost of the Ring!"

    Her face grimaced hearing the words, and adjusted the green sleeves tunic, and tied the rope around her baggy pants more. She hated the name, but it kept her real one buried.

    The crowd erupted as the metal doors clanged open, flooding the narrow tunnel with heat and light and deafening noise. Rose stepped into the chaos.

    Her boots hit the cement with a heavy thud. The cage door shut behind her, locked with a sharp clang. She stared ahead at her opponent — a male who looked more ready to fight than she was — but she barely registered him.

   A deep metallic ring that thrummed in the air like the toll of a warning bell. The crowd's roar thundered overhead, hungry and electric, as if they could smell the violence about to unfold. She didn't look at them, she never did.

     Her gaze was fixed on her opponent — tall, broad-shouldered, his arms bare and bristling with veins and confidence. His eyes glowed faintly with a red hue, and the floor beneath his boots cracked ever so slightly every time he moved.

    He was a bender — earth, most likely, by the way the cement responded to his body language like a loyal dog on a leash.

    "Great," Rose muttered under her breath, rolling her shoulders once more, her own power humming under the surface like static beneath her skin, "Of course they'd throw me a walking landslide today."

     The bell rang, and the first thing he did was raise a chunk of broken flooring — jagged and half the size of her torso and launch it through the air with terrifying speed.

     Rose's forearms snapped up just in time. The rock exploded on impact, shards flying in every direction as she stumbled back with a sharp grunt. Dust clouded the air between them.

    "Okay," She coughed out, swiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "Rude."

     Before she could recover, more rocks followed. A barrage. She tried to dodge, ducking under one, deflecting another with the curve of her shoulder, but a third — heavy and fast — slammed into her side. Pain blossomed through her ribs like fire.

     The crowd loved it. Their roar shook the cage.

     Cheer, shouts. Chanting for her opponent — not her, never her really. She winced as another rock hit her thigh, knocking her off balance, and her knees gave way slightly. A second later, a particularly sharp piece struck her stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs.

    Her body hit the cage wall with a dull, sickening thud, and she collapsed in a heap, breath stuttering, cheek pressed to the gritty floor. Her knuckles trembled as they curled into fists.

     The cheers swelled again. And in that moment — bruised and winded and covered in grime — Rose realized something bitter, they want me to lose.

     She wasn't the hero anymore. Not here, not in this place. Here, she was a ghost of who she used to be. Something to be broken, knocked down, defeated.

    Her eyes fluttered shut for half a second. Images surged behind her eyelids. Her father's voice first, "When you fall, you get back up. That's what Rogers do." Bob's crooked smile as he handed her a flower from the park, grass stains on his jeans next.

   Her heart gave a painful thud in her chest, and she gritted her teeth.

    With a frustrated yell, she smashed the side of her fist against the ground, the impact cracking the concrete beneath her, a ripple of strength shooting through her core. She shoved herself upright, stumbling but steadying.

    Then she raised her head — blood on her lip, dirt on her cheeks, sweat glistening on her brow — and stared her opponent down, "Is that seriously all you've got?" She taunted, voice hoarse but steady, "I can do this all day."

    The crowd went wild. Even her opponent paused, surprised, and then grinned like a shark, "Oh, you're gonna regret that," He cackled, and shoved his fists forward.

    Another boulder-sized slab of cement ripped up from the ground and hurled toward her — but this time she was ready. She sidestepped, boots skidding across the dust-slick floor, and as the rock sailed past, she thrust her hand out.

    Her telekinesis snapped into focus like a blade. She yanked a chunk of debris from the ground and flung it with psychic force. It cracked through the air and grazed his cheek — a neat line of red blooming across his face.

    That got his attention. He snarled, wiping the blood and licking it off his knuckles making her grimace, "So you're not just muscle. Good to know."

    They circled each other then — predator and predator, no prey in sight. Back and forth. Stone and strength. Slams and dodges. Fists and mind.

    He launched bricks like missiles, and she responded with kicks powered by telekinesis and sheer rage. The cage floor cracked, the walls groaned. Cement dust clung to their skin like a second layer of sweat.

    But Rose's mind... it was scattered. Every time she took a breath, she heard Steve's laugh. Every time she blocked a hit, she remembered Bob whispering he'd always be there. And now, both voices were gone.

      Her strength was dwindling, her lungs burned and her body ached.

     She dropped to one knee, panting, sweat and blood trickling down her temple. Her vision blurred for half a second. The noise of the crowd became distant, muffled — like she was underwater.

           That's when it hit.

     A massive slab — thicker than the rest — cracked free from the arena wall and launched toward her. She barely had time to register it before it slammed into her stomach.

    The air whooshed out of her lungs. Her body twisted midair from the force, crashing and bouncing across the cage floor like a ragdoll. Pain exploded everywhere. Her ribs screamed, her back lit up in agony, and her head spun.

    She gasped sharply, to tried to move. Her fingers twitched weakly, Get up, she told herself. Get up—

    But her body didn't listen, everything ached to even think about moving a muscle from her current position. And the crowd? They cheered louder than ever before, deafening.

    "And that's it! The streak is broken, ladies and gents — the Ghost has been crushed!" The announcer's voice yelled over the speaker as the bell rang again.

     The victor roared and threw his arms up, reveling in the chaos.

    And Rose... lay limp. Her cheek pressed against the cold, cracked floor, her body refusing to move. The photos in her locker flashed across her mind — her father. Bob. I'm sorry, she thought faintly as everything around her turned muffled.

    Then her eyes fluttered shut, and darkness swept in like a tide.

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       THE ARENA WAS SILENT NOW.

     Empty stands rose around Rose like forgotten monuments to a fight that already faded from memory — cheers and screams replaced by the hum of distant power lines and the occasional drip of leaking pipes. It felt colder now without the heat of bodies and lights.

     Rose sat alone in the third row of the stands, right above the cage that still bore her blood and bruises. Her gym bag was open on the seat beside her, a worn duffel with a patch barely clinging to its side — the old symbol of the Avengers, half-ripped, half-faded. She wasn't even sure why she still used it.

    She winced as she leaned forward, sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth. Her ribs were screaming, her side blooming in an angry violet already.

    Her knuckles were raw despite the wraps, her shoulder stung, and there was a pounding behind her right eye that she knew would bloom into something dark and swollen by morning.

    Rosemary grunted softly and hissed out a curse under her breath as she rewrapped her wrists. The same careful motions she did before every match, every mission, every fight. Like muscle memory. Only now, it didn't feel like preparing for battle — it felt like patching up the scraps of someone pretending to still be a warrior.

     The silence was only broken by the click of approaching footsteps on concrete. She didn't look up, she didn't need to.

     Ted — the cage fight coordinator — stomped down a few rows, his heavy boots echoing louder than the crowd had. He smelled like cigars and cheap beer and always had too much to say.

     A small stack of cash fluttered through the air and landed beside her bag, "Not your night, huh?" He said with a chuckle, though it wasn't meant for her, "Still, you showed, that's more than most. You get the split."

     Rose reached over, grabbed the money without a word, and tucked it inside the front pocket of her bag. She barely glanced at it. It wasn't much, nothing ever was, but it was enough to pay for dinner and maybe some ice for her ribs.

     "Thanks," She mumbled, voice dry and low. No warmth., no edge. Just... tired, exhausted like she always felt nowadays.

    Ted hovered a moment longer, "You leavin' for good?" He asked surprisingly gentle, like he already knew the answer.

    She didn't respond right away. Her fingers moved to the photos in the side pouch — the one of her and Steve, and the other of her and Bob. She tucked the photos deeper into her bag, "Maybe," She finally spoke, "Don't know yet."

    She zipped the bag shut and stood slowly, her body protesting with every movement. She slung it over her shoulder and winced again, every inch of her ached.

    Just as she turned to leave, Ted called out again, "You know, you look awfully familiar," He began, squinting through the shadows of the arena lights, "You ever hear of that light beam girl? The one who ran with the Avengers? What was her name again... Lady Luma? Lume-something?"

    She froze for half a second, her back to him. Her jaw tightened, "Lady Lumora," She corrected over her shoulder, voice calm but sharp as a knife's edge as the name left a bitter taste in her mouth.

    "Yeah! That's it," Ted chuckled, and ran a hand over his chin in thought as he smiled lightly, "She was somethin'. My kids loved her. Posters and toys and everything. They always asked what happened to her, disappeared after the whole team broke up. Shame, really. Girl had heart, she was like... a light in all that dark."

   Rose's face faltered, just for a moment. A flicker of something behind her eyes, like a crack in glass. She didn't turn around, she couldn't. Instead, she called out with a strained breath, "I get that a lot," and kept walking.

    There was a pause between them, as she continued to trail towards the exit. Then, softly behind her: "You ever hear what happened to her?"

    Rose tightened her grip on her bag strap, and her steps didn't slow, "No," She stated quietly, but clearly, and cleared her throat so it wouldn't crack, "I wouldn't know."

    And then she was gone — out through the side exit and into the chill of the New York night.

  The air hit her lungs like ice, but she welcomed it. The world outside was just as empty as the one she left behind. Streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows that stretched down the alley like fingers clawing for something lost.

   She pulled her hood up, burying her face from the occasional glance. She walked with a slight limp, her body protesting each step, but her expression was blank.

    Her reflection caught in the glass of a storefront — a bruised stranger in a hoodie and bloodied wraps, blonde hair a mess, black eye swelling, and sorrow clinging to her frame like smoke.

     She looked nothing like Lady Lumora, and maybe that was the point.

    With one last glance, Rose kept walking, leaving the echoes of cheers, the memory of a fight, and a fading name behind her in the darkness.

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❪ ✏️ ❫ 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂 : 3285
─►☆ AUTHOR'S NOTE :
im sorry for the boring chapter gang but i gotta build this story up first before i get into the actual movie because than it shows how long and how much suffering rose has gone through without bob and her father 💔💔

trust though i promise the movie events will be happening very soon and bob will be coming soon also. next chapter bucky and sam will be making an appearance so im very excited to write that since im a bucky girl at heart tbh LMAOA 

also if anyone can guess where this chapters inspiration came from you get a kiss from me because this chap IS fully a reference to one of my fav childhood shows 😜

anywaysss you all know the drill, vote,
comment (if you want), ect mwah <33🫶