Avery grew up in a bad part of New York City, with two parents who were forever arguing and a far younger brother, David. She and her sibling had a six year age gap, but were as thick as thieves. She often found herself caring for him, as her mother and father were often out of the old apartment or high or drunk. She was a defensive child at school, trying to keep up socially with little money or know-how while caring for David - but extremely selfless and caring toward him.

Life continued on as 'normal,' for the next 12 years, and occasionally Child Services checked in on them. They were never deemed a bad enough case to be taken away, and besides - Avery didn't want to leave her little brother behind. However, she was becoming anxious and overwhelmed by the responsibility that had been laden onto her shoulders. Sleeping problems and migraines started manifesting, and at age 17, her powers came into being. It started as her special secret, the way that she could light her candle at night. It progressed to more, although she always got scared and quit before it got out of hand.

Unfortunately, she had a terrible nightmare at age 18 that resulted in sleep paralysis. While the nightmare had been going on, her curtains had spontaneously combusted. As she became more and more afraid, other things started catching alight. When sleep paralysis ensued, she could but watch as fire crackled around her room, sneaking on the carpet and into the rest of the house. Smoke swept through it. When she could finally move, her clothes burnt from her body as she ran to try to save her parents and brother. They were asphyxiated.

The firemen rescued her, at a complete loss as to how she survived, and clothed her in a blanket as she sat in the back of the truck. Avery cried. She sobbed as the blaze simmered down, as they brought out the burnt bodies of her family, as the one fireman tried to get any sense out of her, as her tears ran out and all that was left was shaking shoulders and panicked breath. They left her alone, for just a moment, before what appeared to be a police officer approached her, asking that she come with them to make a report (or something like that - she couldn't remember anymore). Next thing she knew, she was bundled into the back of a car and something strong smelling was pressed to her mouth and nose.

Long story short, her father had been involved with an extremely powerful druglord. They'd taken her as a sort of 'payment.' On her first night, she was drugged and raped. In her semi-conscious, confused, disoriented and terrified state, she set the filthy bedding alight and burned the man violating her. The big boss realised the power he held in his hands, and set her out to lure in other debt owers by posing as a prostitute that killed them in dark alleys. They never dared touch her again.

Those months were long and hard and difficult. She developed severe anxiety, and experienced panic attacks - but she hid her suffering with anger. Avery grew a coping mechanism of anger and resentment in order to not go mad, punching the concrete walls of her cell and screaming until her voice grew hoarse. The only thing to do, she eventually realised, was to escape. She formed a delicate escape plan, and... well. It worked.

That night was the longest night that she ever experienced. Avery ran. And ran. And ran. Her chest grew tight with a panic attack as she hid inside a convenience store, before she forced herself to run again. She was unfit for running, and so tired, and sore, but she moved until her legs fell out from underneath her and all that she could taste was blood in her throat. By some miracle, they didn't catch her that night, slumped behind a dumpster she'd crawled behind.

Avery never regained her freedom after that day. Scarred by her rape and treatment by the gang, she couldn't bear to be in closed spaces or close to any men for a long, long time. She came and went in womens' shelters, eventually growing more used to quieter men and closed quarters. Forever she was looking over her shoulder for someone to take her away, to grab her arm and throw her back in that small room. She was still angry, and became known as the woman to avoid in the shelters - occasionally starting fights, screaming and usually rude to others, even those with good intentions.

Avery still used her powers. They were useful for warming up at night, or for scaring would-be creepers away. She had been kicked out of a shelter for aggressive behaviour and it was cold, early January. Snow had fallen. Avery had been walking - what else could she do other than sit? - and it was a cold night. As sometimes happened, a man decided he'd taken a liking to her and started following her.

Bruce Banner also happened to be getting himself some groceries that fateful evening, when he spotted the man following the hunched shoulders of Avery, and turning a sharp left to follow her into an alleyway. Bruce, being the upstanding citizen that he was, immediately followed at a run. He expected to have to pull him off her - but, instead, saw her fending him off with a swirl of fire. Bruce stood there for a moment, a small expression of wonder on his face despite himself. He tried to talk to her afterwards, but she yelled something abusive before taking off.

Bruce made a point of encountering her throughout his daily routine a couple of times, and they established a small rapport. He would bring her something warm to drink or eat, and she would take it while looking at him with guarded, hostile eyes. Occasionally a biting remark would escape her, or she would flinch away if he moved too close or too quickly - but his kindness burrowed deep within her bruised and beaten heart. He quietly explained his own experience as they sat on benches, a good half metre between them, and she would listen. He, too, got angry. He, too, had done things he regretted. The space between them grew smaller. When he asked her if she would join the Academy, it took a couple of days for her to come around. But she did.

Maybe things didn't need to burn anymore.