three the devil wears prada

(or, from mondays to fridays, a school uniform)

🦇💋

       THIS IS A HERO'S STORY but like, it's a Monday morning, which means that Isabelle's got to put the superhero bullshit on the back-burn until four o'clock. She gets dropped off at her school by Marie, who wears her best PTA-mom outfit, sprinkled in with a hint of I am a princess, leave me alone. Black cigarette trousers with a cream sweater. Audrey Hepburn to the max. But, Isabelle leaves Marie sitting in one of their cars, as she slides her sunglasses from the top of her head to over her eyes, before she drives into the Manhattan traffic. Isabelle's got an earphone in, the other dangling below, brushing against her blazer, as she walks into school. The Veronicas make everything so much better.

       Isabelle has mixed feelings about her school uniform. And, by this, she means that she's grateful that, because of this plaid disaster she doesn't have to spend extra time in the morning picking out an outfit, but then, there's the most tragic issue of all — it's a plaid disaster. She isn't even joking. Apparently the uniform changed the same year that Isabelle started, and Isabelle likes to think that this tragedy of an outfit was the angels' first attempt at royally screwing with her.

       She isn't even exaggerating. No one could make a blue plaid pleated skirt look good... Especially when the only way for it to look decent is to hike it up a couple of inches, which then means you've got to avoid certain teachers. Then there's the matching white shirt and the navy-blue blazer, to match the bulk of the plaid's blue. The thing is, Isabelle isn't exactly scared by getting into trouble, or anything. It's not that she wants to cause trouble, it's just that she thinks the rules are stupid. Her dad's in the fucking Senate, and her birth dad's the fucking devil, you try and control her.

       Her English Lit teacher, Miss Geist, walks out of her classroom, her brows furrowing at Isabelle. She's got Isabelle for homeroom, too, and from the look across her face, Isabelle suspects that Principal Philemon (known to the students as Phil) has gotten some email from her dad, about gosh knows what. Normally that's the case. So, when she's told to go to the principal's office, she doesn't pay much attention to the concern across Miss Geist's face, nor does she bother taking out her earphones. Popular by The Veronicas is a wicked song, she isn't gonna stop listening because her dad's emailed the school again.

       "Uh," says Isabelle, when she arrives in the school's lobby area. The whole school's a mix of an old-school New York building, and a ton of construction from the eighties and nineties. Sometimes you can still smell the Teen Spirit, when you walk into the hall that's still called New Hall, even though it was opened the same day Kurt Cobain first wore those sunglasses.

       The lobby, though, is one of the older parts of the building. Once upon a time Mary Immaculate was an old townhouse converted into a school, but over time things like a new gym and more classrooms meant that the school had to build some extra buildings. Hence the New Hall. And the way that the school, not wanting the modern areas to stick out too much, decided to integrate modern touches to the rest of the school. By this, Isabelle means fresh licks of paint onto the lockers, making them Madonna-blue (of course) and banners promoting school spirits hanging over the antique panelling.

       Isabelle looks up, at the bulletin board behind the receptionists' desk, where a number of "School spirit!" posters are stuck with pins. One's a list of the upcoming PTA meetings, basketball games. Another's one that says, "Say no to drugs!" Then — this one is Isabelle's absolute favourite — the poster of J—The big guy up there's son, who is meant to be an alternative for the Captain America propaganda other schools play, saying, Patience is a virtue! Phenomenal.

       "Just go straight through there, Isabelle," says Principal Philemon, a short man with a brown toupee and the face of a frog. He's eating a chocolate-chip cookie.

       Isabelle nods. She figures he's going to meet her in there, maybe give her a cookie (one time, after she was kidnapped, the receptionist at the time made Isabelle a whole cup of coffee, and she was offered the staff-only cookies — she thinks this is the only upside of what happened to her.) So, Isabelle opens the door, about to sit down, maybe check her phone, maybe turn the music off... But then she sees him.

       Steve fucking Rogers.

       She closes the door behind her. He's standing next to the window, the school's tennis court across the street.

       "Why are you at my school?" says Isabelle, stepping further into the office. She tears her earphone out of her ear, shoving it into her blazer pocket, as she glares at him. "Are you stalking me now, or something?"

       "I wanted to talk to you," says Steve.

       "'Bout what? Nazis? HYDRA?" says Isabelle. "Oh, wait, apparently I'm too young to deal with that—"

       Steve seems unphased by this. "Why were you in Lagos, anyway?"

       Isabelle shrugs. "I heard about Crossbones. I heard he's HYDRA."

       "You know, you don't need—"

       "So why were you there?" says Isabelle, and she raises her eyebrows. She can feel herself calming down a little — or, at least, she's pissed off, but it's more contained. Not so much fiery rage, the sort of anger that's like an all-consuming fire, but rather, white-hot coals.

       Isabelle lets out a sigh, crossing her arms. "Look, I get that you wanna talk me against doing this shit, or Marie asked you to talk to me, but I don't care."

       "That's not why I'm here," he says.

       Isabelle frowns.

       "Then why are you here?" she asks. "Are you here to talk to the kids in detention, 'cause that doesn't start until four."

       Steve looks at her oddly. "They play those?"

       "Uh, yeah, and they're fucking annoying—"

       He puts up a hand, as if to say, woah there with the cussing.

       Isabelle rolls her eyes. "OK, please, I can't say the G-word without my throat burning, I'm gonna say fuck..." she says. "Why are you here, then?"

       "They want to pass a new law," says Steve. Isabelle looks at him with raised eyebrows. This is more her dad's territory. "Since you were involved in Sokovia, your name's been brought up — Moroi, I mean."

       Her brows furrow. "What's the law, then?"

       "It regulates the powers of enhanced individuals," says Steve. "Anyone that doesn't sign it, will become a fugitive."

       Isabelle's eyes narrow, pulling a face of concern. She doesn't like the sound of that. She remembers when her dad was gone for half a year, when they found out SHIELD had been infiltrated by HYDRA, because there was so much to sort out. The cynic in her thinks, it'll get corrupted, it always does.

       "Well, they don't know who I am, and people are already trying to kill me, so..." says Isabelle, and she shrugs. She checks the time on her phone, seeing that first period's already started. "Thanks for the warning, Mr America."

       "I know that Marie is in favour of this law," says Steve.

       "Yeah, well, the only reason I'm this is because my birth father rebelled," says Isabelle, taking her necklace off for a second, so that her eyes can glow blue. She quickly slips it back on, already feel her energy drain.

       Steve looks at her for a moment, thinking to himself. He smiles slightly. Wistfully, maybe. Isabelle's never used that word before.

       "I was a lot like you," he says.

       Isabelle frowns. But I don't even like the fourth of July...?

       Instead she says, "In... what way?"

       "The hopefulness," says Steve. "I like it, kid, you don't wanna lose something like that."

       Isabelle looks at him weirdly. She'd never strike herself as hopeful. Part of her wonders, maybe it's because she's spent her whole life convinced nothing will go wrong, nothing goes wrong when you're as rich as she is — and if it does, her dad's the fucking devil, she's gonna be fine. Maybe it is hope. Still feels weird, though. She thinks it's ironic, the devil's daughter being hopeful. Shouldn't she be cynical, or something?

       "Um... OK," says Isabelle. "So you're gonna be a criminal?"

       "I guess," says Steve. "But I need to protect my best friend, Bucky, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe."

       Isabelle thinks of Nate and Riley. "I get that."

       "You know, I'm sorry for Lagos — at least, how I reacted," says Steve. He's still sitting next to the window. Isabelle feels confused. He looks as if he's had an epiphany, or something. "I... I get why you went there. I wish you didn't, but I get it. I would've done the same."

       She remembers what he said. I was a lot like you. Maybe this means that now, Isabelle's got a 'get out of jail free' card, when it comes to Captain America. Because he sees himself in her, blah blah blah, so maybe he won't get annoyed in the future? Or at least sit her down like some parent being all like, "This is dangerous," and scold her for punching a Nazi. Which is a little hypocritical, but whatever, because maybe now, he won't do that?

       Isabelle leaves the principal's office after a while. By the time she's done it's almost the end of first period, so she walks the way to her second lesson of the day, which is Religious Studies — the subject which, surprise surprise, is Isabelle's best. Although it's super fun, when Isabelle can't answer any of the questions, because she can't say half of the words... She can write them though, which helps with the actual tests and such. (Or, at least, she writes the words quickly, so even if her left hand started to burn, too late, she's already written the word, what are the angels gonna do about it?)

       She sits at the table with Riley and Nate, getting out her stuff. Marie takes Isabelle back-to-school shopping, every single year, and a couple of years ago Isabelle got a pretty little makeup bag from Chanel, which she uses for her pencil case. It's Barbie-pink and leather and it has her initials underneath the logo, which is cool. "A subtle brag," Nate calls it.

       "What was that about, then?" says Riley, as she looks up at Izzy.

       Isabelle shrugs. "Captain America wanted to talk to me, no biggie."

       Nate's eyes widen, so much that they're bulging out of the socket. "What?"

       "There's some law being discussed, apparently," says Isabelle. For this part she lowers her voice. Everyone knows she met the Avengers when she was kidnapped, the first part makes some sense. This part doesn't. Why would he find Isabelle to talk to her about a law about superheroes, unless she was one? "He just wanted to let me know... Warn me, I think. Everyone's got to sign it but your real name's put on it."

       Nate frowns. "Your dad would kill you."

       "I know," says Isabelle. "And he'd find out, even if it was a secret."

       Riley looks nervous. "What are you gonna do, then?"

       "Not sign it?" says Isabelle. "They don't know my real name. And I've already got angels and demons appearing all the time, what's a couple of CIA agents gonna do?" She shrugs. "I guess, if I end up having to... My real name is, technically, my other name..." She raises her eyebrows, not wanting to say Moroi. Nate and Riley nod, following completely.

       They're told by their teacher that for the rest of this semester, they're all going to do a research project, in groups, which they'll present at the end of the semester, just before they finish for summer. Already Isabelle hears a couple of people around the room whisper about doing one on Moroi, and quickly the teacher says, "You can't do it on that vigilante—" Rude. "—but you could do it on the Devil, I suppose... As long as the presentation's well-researched and ten minutes long."

       Izzy turns back to Riley and Nate. "I can say the devil words?"

       Riley nods. "Sounds good. Nate?"

       "I think we'll have an advantage with that one," he says with a grin.

🦇💋

       WELL, THEY DO HAVE AN advantage, or at least a decent starting point, the three of them decided as they started writing down what they know already... And, quickly, they realised, ah, we don't know most of the religious stuff, just the kick-butt stuff. Which is important, sure, when you're like Isabelle and you need the kick-butt stuff to like, not die, but it's not too helpful when your project's for Religious Studies. So, they decided to regroup after school — but then, Nate's dad's pager lit up, and the robbery on fifth avenue took over her evening.

       Now, she's sitting on a rooftop in the upper west side. She doesn't come to this side of Central Park too often, save for Thanksgiving, because her mom's parents live in the penthouse of the hotel they own. And sometimes for Moroi stuff, but Isabelle doesn't really count that as her visiting, because she isn't taking in the sights, or anything, she's just kicking someone's butt, making fun of their outfit, and then making sure they're arrested. But, right now, she's sitting above her grandparents' hotel, behind the sign that says The Grimaldi. When Isabelle was eight, her highest claim to fame was that her mom's maiden name was the same surname as Mia from The Princess Diaries... It still sorta is her highest claim to fame, actually. She likes to think she's just in a Meg Cabot novel. (Although, where the fuck is the guy to tackle her to stop people seeing her drop an eggplant out of a window? Where is he?)

       She doesn't really know why she's still hanging out here. Part of her likes the quietness, the fact that she can look down and watch the whole city moving. She can see the woman in the vintage Chanel (she may be high up but she can spot the 1973 resort collection from a mile away) talking on her phone, her face screwed up, or at least as much as it can be given the injections. Amazing, she thinks. Then, she sees the man in the tracksuit, unfortunately not a velour one, who's holding a briefcase, probably having gone to the gym after work. She sees a family, well-off tourists, a little boy and girl and their two moms, walking towards the entrance of The Grimaldi...

       ... She sees her Moroi phone light up. Oooh.

       SPIDEY: just stopped a bank robbery!!!!!!

       He's cute, isn't he?

       MOROI: !!!!!!!!! well done!!!!!!!!!

       MOROI: tait what bank was it?

       SPIDEY: the one with the bulldog, as the mascot??

       MOROI: no WAY

       MOROI: i stopped a robbery in their branch on fifth avenue!!!

       SPIDEY: REALLY??

       MOROI: do u think they were connected

       SPIDEY: i hope so??? that would be cool???

       MOROI: does this mean we stopped a bank robbery together??

       SPIDEY: !!!!!! that's so cool

        OK, OK, forgive her for getting excited about having a superhero friend. She looks up from the phone, and she sees the old haunted house on the side of Central Park, with the lights flickering from inside.

       Isabelle sits up straight, her brows furrowing. That's weird — that's more than weird. That building's been closed to the public for years. Not even at Halloween will the city open it. Apparently the last time someone did, in the sixties, they were found died, heavily mutilated to the point it took months for them to even identify them. Bottom line is, the building's only standing on the edge of the park because it's partly a tourist attraction. But no one's allowed in. Isabelle remembers during the attack on New York, when she was with her grandparents, and she could see those alien monsters from the window, and even they avoided that house.

       So, it's weird. It's weird that the lights are flickering. Isabelle forces herself to stand up, using the steel pole keeping the first I in Grimaldi up straight to balance herself. For a minute she pauses, having heard enough ghost stories about that house to want to turn her back, to pretend she didn't see it lighting up... But she's got to. (Also, what's the worst that can happen? If it's demons, or something, then her dad's their king, she's fine.)

       Isabelle turns back into a bat, and she flies through the trees in Central Park, towards the house on the edge. She lands outside of the iron gates, the ones tall, to stop people from climbing in. Sometimes kids still do — but legend has it, the second you step foot on the grounds, even if it's just the dead grass outside, you feel eerily frightened about what's inside the manor...

       She looks up, at the house, at the flickering lights. "You were kidnapped by HYDRA, this will be fine," she says to herself, before she turns into a bat again, to get over the fence.

       She lands on the path leading up to the house, old slabs that would've gone for hundreds at an antique's fair, but not now, cracks splitting the slabs into little sections, weeds growing through them. The garden used to be nice, she's seen the old pictures, but whatever happened here meant that no one looked after the house anymore... But, after a while, the grass stopped growing, the weeds stopped sprouting. Almost as if the heavens gave up on this place.

       Isabelle waits to feel the eerie fright, but it doesn't creep up on her, not just yet, at least. She hears a low growl in a rose bush, and Isabelle jumps five feet backwards (no joke ­— apparently that's when her superhuman abilities decided to jump out of her, literally.) She stands still, thinking, If it's a monster then it's fine, I can turn into a bat and get out of here. She keeps on thinking to herself, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, as if it's her own version of, everything is fine calm the fuck down!

       She waits for the thing behind the growl to appear. Isabelle narrows her eyes, the lowness of the growl making her prepare herself for the worst. It should be cool, right? She doesn't wanna brag, but it was totally her that gave Ultron a real run for his money. If she can fight that robot demon, then surely anything else will be fine...

       There's a rustling in the bushes. Isabelle feels the wind stop. She hears the padding of paws, and she almost turns into a bat then and there — but then the sees the rose bush part, with the thing behind the growl appearing in the darkness.

       It's a three-headed dog — or a puppy, she should say. Isabelle breathes in with such surprise she makes a weird high pitched gasp. "No way!" she lets out, and she kneels on the ground, hoping the dog will move towards her. She pats the grass in front of her, completely ignoring the dread in her stomach from being so close to the house, because look at the puppy!

       She doesn't really know what breed it must be, because it looks like a lot of them. It looks like a Great Dane, with it's ears that stand up, but then the dog's a little too fluffy to be a Great Dane. The coat's pitch-black, but around the chest and the face there's a patch of what Izzy thinks is ginger fur...

       "Hi, little guy..." she says quietly, smiling. She looks up at the house, and she knows she needs to go in there for a minute, but let her pet the dog first, come on, her dad never let her get another one after their family dog died when she was ten...

       A rolled-up piece of paper appears in the left head's mouth. He drops it in her hand, and she unrolls it, frowning. She wants to say it's weird, that the paper just appeared, but then again, this dog has three heads.

       Moroi,

       Take Cerberus for your protection. I'm sure you do not need it, but hey, who knows when you'll need a hellhound.

       Father

       "Oh, woah, OK," says Isabelle, and she looks up at the puppy. "You're Cerberus? Like, the big scary dog?" All six of his ears prick up at the sound Cerberus, so she figures that is, in fact, his name. Isabelle's mouth grows into a grin. "Hell-fucking-yeah!" She opens her arms, and hugs Cerberus the Puppy. "Although, I don't know how I'm gonna stop my other dad from freaking out..."

       Cerberus squirms and jumps backwards, and she catches more writing appearing on the paper. Isabelle raises an eyebrow, reading it.

       By the way — the collar will act as a glamour for Cerberus' heads.

       "What col—?"

       A collar appears, hanging in the right head's mouth.

       "Oh," she says, taking the collar from his mouth. It's black with silver studs, and Isabelle thinks, super punk, I love it. She puts the collar around the middle head. Nothing seems to happen — To you it won't look any different, the paper says, when she glances back down. Gosh. It would be nice if the whole message appeared together.

       She pets Cerberus, each head individually, and she stands back up, pocketing the letter, in case anyone comes across it. Part of her feels the need to thank her birth dad, which is virtually impossible. She frowns, and looks down at the ground, and awkwardly goes, "Uh, thanks for the dog!"

       Hopefully he hears her?

       She'll figure out thanking him later. Maybe she can, like, use a Ouija board or something, to contact him. She doesn't know. She'll ask Marie how she did it, but right now, Izzy's got other things to deal with — namely, the haunted house with the lights that haven't flickered since the 1800s.

       Isabelle walks up the porch steps. The house looks like the ones people tried building in the city, when the new in New York actually meant something. Isabelle's reminded of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyworld, what with the pillars propping up the balcony, which runs around the edge of the entire house, which in itself is a weird shape, as if someone put three squares together and thought, yeah, looks good. There's a big door in the middle of the porch, much like the massive windows lining the house — or, at least, they were massive windows, but now they're covered in ivy, before the grass stopped growing.

       She frowns at the door. Cerberus stands next to her, excited. Isabelle, for a minute, thinks maybe she should leave him outside, but then she remembers that this is Cerberus, the scary hellhound that's been alive for as long as, like, Thor, so she leaves it. She thinks Cerberus can hold his own.

       Isabelle steps closer to the door. There's an iron knocker sitting in the middle, in the shape of a lion. She twists her lips, thinking, should I knock...? But then, again, she realises that if someone's in the house, they're probably not welcome anyway. So she tries the door... And it doesn't open.

       She steps backwards, on the porch, frowning. The lights are still flickering, and if she doesn't check that things are safe and sound, then she'll be thinking about it all night, all day tomorrow, until she finds a way in. So, she sees the window to the side, and she picks up a rusted watering can, and she smashes the window — not much, just enough that she can turn into a bat, slip in, and be good for... Maybe Cerberus will have to stay outside, then.

       Isabelle turns into a bat, and she manages to get in. Immediately, she hears countless screams of terror and cries of rage. No one's in the hallway, and no one's in the sitting room to her left, where the door's been left open. The lights are all flickering, though, which confuses her, but she decides she'll look into that later, maybe. If her birth father sent a hellhound to this house for her, maybe he's got something to do with the freaky lights.

       She slowly walks down the hallway, to the door which keeps on shaking, all of the noise coming from behind it.

       She kneels down, to look in the keyhole, but there isn't anything there. Isabelle frowns, and she hears a bark, and she turns back. Cerberus, somehow, got into the house. But how—?

       She pulls out the letter.

       Cerberus can appear whenever he's needed.

       Isabelle glares at the ground. "Can't you just tell me everything at the same time?" she asks. Gosh. It's not that difficult.

       But anyway.

       Isabelle can't see anything, but the door is shaking, with the force of whatever's behind it. She can hear the commotion taking place behind the door, just because she can't see it doesn't mean there's nothing there.

       So, Isabelle opens the door, having to use her Satan-given strength to force it open, despite the lock... She doesn't know why she didn't do that with the first door... Whoops.

       Isabelle steps into the room, a massive ballroom, dressed for a wedding. Cerberus stands next to her, looking excited. She starts to look around, the door closing behind her. There's a wedding cake, bright white with purple flowers decorating it. The grand piano in the corner is still shining, and it's as if the inside of this house hasn't changed since whenever this wedding took place...

       And then things change.

       Isabelle sees who's behind the screams, the shouts, the cries. All at once, countless people in their occasion wear coming into sight, all fighting each other. A woman in a corset and the fullest skirt Izzy's ever seen is holding an iron rod, like the ones you use for fires. She pierces a man in an old-fashioned suit, the sort you'd see in a period drama. No blood comes out, but she keeps on stabbing the man, again and again and again...

       Then there's the two children next to the cake, two little boys wielding dinner knives and slashing at each other, with such force it should cause blood to spill. But it doesn't... And Isabelle quickly realises, as she sees all of these different people fighting each other, over and over, with the intent to kill, that she's surrounded by ghosts.

       But this makes no sense. The wedding cake and their clothes mean that this must be a wedding, but then, Isabelle can't help but wonder — why are they killing each other? She looks around, to see if there's anyone that isn't, and there isn't. They're all fighting each other, all stabbing and slashing and slicing, all except for one ghost, a young man with bullet holes through his chest, lying on the floor, forever on the brink of death.

       No one's trying to fight her, so she sees the dying ghost, and she thinks, maybe he can talk to me. She has a feeling he's the groom — where the bride is, is up for question — so hopefully that means he knows even more info.

       She brushes past one ghost, to get to the groom, and she keeps on walking — that is, at least, until they grab onto her wrist. Isabelle whirls back around, eyes widening.

       The ghost is an old man, a white beard covering his jaw. He looks angry, as he glares at her, eyes as piercing as the knife in his hand. "What are you doing here?" his voice echoes, in the way a ghosts' would, duh, and she freezes. She sees the ghosts around her are slowly stopping their fight.

       "Uh, hi, super nice to meet you," she says. "So sorry for interrupting, I can tell you're all super busy, that's totally fine, I'll show myself out, congrats to the happy couple—"

       And that's what starts the fighting again.

       Only, this time, the ghosts dive for her. Isabelle, panicking, grabs the iron rod from the woman she first saw, and tries to use it to fight them off, stopping ghosts' blows with their knives and random attempts at weapons. She sees one ghost with a full on sword, one taken from a wall, and she narrows her eyes, turning into a bat, switching back in time to grab it from their hand.

       This is more like it, she thinks, throwing off a ghostly man's attempt to stab her with the cake knife. She ducks, to miss a round of bullets from an old gun, the ones cowboys used to use, and she turns backwards, to check on Cerberus, who's fine.

       "You're a hellhound, can't you help?" says Isabelle, desperately. She bets that the letter's got an extra sentence on it now, but she doesn't have any way of checking, as she misses someone trying to hit her with the side of a shotgun. "Cerberus, for the love of Satan, do something!"

       He rolls over.

       "Thanks a lot, Dad!" she shouts at the ground.

       Right. She looks around. She's going to look into this, of course she is, but she needs to regroup first. If she turns into a bat, she can get to the door, and then get out of here. OK, she thinks, let's do this.

       Isabelle turns into a bat, and she reaches the door, pulling it open with all of her strength. It flings open, and the ghosts reach for it, but flinch backwards if they touch the doorframe. Strange. She picks up Cerberus, holding him under her arm, and slams the door shut behind her.

       Catching her breath, Isabelle sits on the floor of the foyer. She takes out the letter from her pocket, where it now says, Cerberus will be disguised as an infant hound, and will grow as a normal dog would — he'll stop when he's the normal size of a so-called "big dog," but if you want him to become his true form, a hellhound, then command him to.

       "How...?" she says to herself, and she eyes Cerberus, who's chasing his own tail, something that's especially odd to see, when there are three heads after the tail. "Uh, Cerberus, go big?" Unsurprisingly, that doesn't work...

       She figure it out later. Just like she'll figure out what on earth is happening in the house where time stands still...

imagine: big scary cerberus during the big fight in endgame