Life Notes of the Adopted Daughter of Tony Stark

Chapter One: How The Lost Get Found

Warning:
This story and chapter are long and I will be tweaking it as I go so if it updates often, sorry to spam you.
Hope you enjoy!

This story, I want to first off say, is absolutely true. Every word that's typed by my hand or someone else's.
'Why should I think that?' you ask? Because, well, the fact that you even clicked on this story is what's convincing me that you are convinced. Or you were bored and clicked on it right? So, if you're reading my story, then good for you. You believe in all the conspiracy stuff the government tries to hide. Mutants, super soldiers, supernatural beings, secret organizations, alien robots… or you were bored.

Another fun fact about this me and this story (more like what it's about), is that I didn't have my memories until just a few months ago; my innocence is ruined once again because of those memories, but at least I'm not ignorant.

And, as a memento of my struggles, I've decided to write them all down. Why? 'Cause everybody who knows me asks the same question: can you tell us what happened? You, like everyone else, will want to know what happened. And I'll tell you, so don't get over excited; my life is more traumatic then terrific sometimes. Sometimes.

To start off, my name is Joyceann. Joyceann Brokenheart Stark. I'm also known as Halcyon, Thunderstorm, Thunderous Prime, and Joyce Claire Stark by the public eye. Stark isn't my real last name; obvious though right? These names have made my world a constant state of flux in which I never seem to get out of.

Let's get one last thing straight though; I'm weird. Just how weird? Well, I'm friends with weirdos from S.H.I.E.L.D. and NEST. Not by my own will of course; it kind of all just, happened.
For the past two years I've been actually involved with S.H.I.E.L.D.; the streets of New York were my home up until 2012.

Speaking of 2012, let's start with what would've been Earth's Armageddon, Ragnarok, Dooms Day; whatever you want to call it: The Battle of New York. Living through it wasn't really a problem; it was more about surviving it. You can blame Loki for that. The Asgardian confronted me that day in a way I can never forget. Let's just say pain was involved (You can see where this story of mine is going, can't you?). None the less, I endured it; my pride, not so much. Only a few things kept me from dying.

These things, my indisputably strong powers, had kept me on the streets a good, long time, for I feared that no permanent home could ever be found. Oh, you want to know what they are, don't you? Well, there's so much detail that needs to be put in them, so you'll find out everything you'll need to know about them eventually. It's not exactly something I can hide anyway. But to sum things up, I have wings and horns and have three main forms for the wings that change in and out, depending on mood, weather, will, etc. I honestly like to change them out by will because they're just so damn awesome.

(My horns don't change. They're normally ivory white, the left one has one lightning marking on it. They can drop all the way to my waist, extending, shorting, even splitting into thin strands at will. Yes, I know that's weird).

I have regular claws on my hands that retract like a cat's, but it's the ones in my hands you shouldn't mess with. They're similar to steak knives; sharp, indestructible, and can slash through anything. Kind of like Wolverine (only I'm cooler :3).

The dodgiest part of me is my electricity. I can manipulate, create, and sabotage, anything electricity related. Even bio-electricity, (that's a living being's electricity). I have complete control; or at least I think I do. It has gotten stronger over the years. So strong, well, I could kill hundreds of people in a single bolt. I'm horrified one day I will.

Moving on, there's also the telekinesis. That's the power to move things with your mind basically. It comes in handy, and so does the mind reading.
And if you must know about my other prime power, read on. I can't really explain it here, it wouldn't belong; it's quite alien.

Well, let me officially start this story. The Battle of New York is where we begin; well, just before it that is.
So, picture this: it started off a normal day for someone like me. I was a street singer. That day I just happened to choose to play right under Stark Tower. My hair was pulled up, streaked black, blue, and purple. My hands strummed along to a song I wrote. A long, black jacket covered my torso and my wings. I had a crowd of 15, but all were into the song. Some danced, some sat and listened, and the ones who had come before sang along. I loved every minute.

I stopped abruptly when an explosion sounded above the tower, giving my audience and myself a good scare. They whispered among themselves nervously when Iron Man came into view, soaring to his home. I calmed them down with reassurance that it was most likely only one of Tony Stark's inventions gone somewhat wrong. Of course, I knew I was insincere when Iron Man once more was in the air, this time falling without a suit on and to what seemed like his certain demise. Glass crystals followed him down as I quickly probed his mind for the truth. As soon as I found it out, he was gone, rocketing up again with a new suit on his body.

Growing skittish, I said to my crowd, "W-well, I don't know about you but I think that's today's show. Hope to see you all tomorrow for another great time in Central Park." The crowd clapped nervously, anticipating more; I'd be lying again to say I wasn't either.

Then hell broke loose like a storm in waiting.

Above the Stark Tower, a swirling blue portal with a black center broke opened. At first, we all just stared at it, like any normal human would. Screaming and panic raked people around me ran for cover when strange, metal aliens started coming through the portal. I, startled by all this myself, quickly packed my stuff, unplugging different cords I flared my wings, stripping them of their concealment.
To be honest, I don't know what scared them more right than; the space invaders or me. I couldn't help it though, I've been programmed to protect. I don't know why I felt that way, but it was implanted in my brain like a conscious for some reason, and I listened to it every time.

When I dubbed it too dangerous for even myself to stick around, I took the liberty of chucking the small amp at a passing alien who went crashing as soon as I hit my mark. I grinned, and decided to try my luck, quickly creating a weak lasso out of the cords and roped in another chariot after a young man. Satisfied that I had put those two things to use I masked my guitar in a crook by Stark Tower, altering my wings ever so slightly so I could stay low and glide fast in the narrow allies. Even though it was a bit of a pain to steer properly with all the normos running a-muck and aliens darting to and fro (and not to mention New York's alleyways were not very straightforward to pilot threw).

After a while and great deal of zooming through alleys to avoid the freaky things from another world, I relocated to a more remote place to hide. The shadows seemed like my best option and started making my why forward to what appeared like an abandoned building. The building itself had been abandoned for at least a month or so before I found myself standing in front of it right then. I rushed in, glancing over my shoulder only once to see fire erupt behind me; I shuddered.

After hiding behind a concaved wall, I breathed out heavily and slumped gratefully into a massive pile of feathers. Unfortunately, my rest wasn't going to work into my favor.

I heard the faint growl of something animalistic in front of me, and I peeped open one eye enough to see aliens, whatever species they were, jumping out at me from dark corners; they were fairly large up close (a foot or two taller than a normal sized American male).

I gawked wide-eyed at the aliens at first, startled at their sudden appearance. A few seconds of looking at the creatures and I made the assumption that they were not here to ask me for directions. I heard a small whine and, looking to my right to see one charging a weapon. I jumped up and darted onto the wall, missing the sting of death; barely.

Going further still, I landed lightly on the ground in front of me, only for the metal creatures to follow.

What on earth is that girl thinking?!

What?

The hell? She'll be killed!

Get out of there!

A cluster of people, shivering in understandable fear, sat as hostages from where the aliens seemed to have rounded them up. I felt my heart stop as they sat there, scared like deer in the headlights.

I tried to reach out and into the minds of the five, lumbering and mechanic, not to mention hideous beings. I couldn't feel anything remotely humanistic or even of their own thinking. Their minds were like non-sentient computers, nothing was going through them except direct orders; orders to kill.

Seen as an intimate threat, the extraterrestrials charged headlong, surrounding me quickly; pressure of the moment frizzed my brain for a moment.

A child's cry rang out, shrill and petrified.

Instinct finally took action as well as that strange, ravenous feeling I got whenever I came across those hurting others.
The aliens charged their weapons, aiming them at me, in which I jumped straight up just as they fired. (Somehow, none of the freak-a-zooids hit each other in cross fire). Twisting mid-air, I landed on the shoulders of the nearest alien soldier, stabbing my digits into its neck joint and ripped wires out, a tingling feeling pulsating through my entire being. It went dead and collapsed underneath me.

I grinned a slyly; too easy. Another solider yelled something in a foreign language, which apparently translated into 'Aim better at the human,' because all of a sudden, the discharge of open fire became ten times more accurate. I yelped in surprise as 'bullets' grazed my left shoulder and cheek. After the barrage, I was honestly more ticked then scared.

Taking flight, I rammed two more aliens like I was in a game of red rover; my wings clobbered them in the head and sent their bodies flying backwards, heads flying off from the force. The last two extraterrestrials, which were at this point were running out of options, dashed over to the crowd of people, dragging them into the light and pointing their guns towards them.
They harshly barked something that I didn't understand. But with the weapons charging, I knew exactly what they had said: surrender or they die.

I growled in frustration, flicking my metal appendages in and out, feeling the cold metal pierce my skin and imaged sinking it into one (cough, both) of the aliens. These people were innocent of doing anything to hinder their plans; but maybe that was just it. These innocent folks were only something the invaders could run over and kill; the weaker becoming building blocks for the stronger. That logic honestly never has made sense to me. From what I know about life, the weak lead the strong; how many Sunday school stories explain that? I can tell you: lots.

Finally, I raised my hands above my head in, what I hoped to be, a universal gesture of surrender. "I get the gist; now put the big guns away and I'll stop attacking you bozos. Deal? There's no need for any more casualties."

I'm not quite sure they understood a word, but they backed away from the crowd, keeping their weapons up and ready. They shouted something at me again, this time I understood.

"Yo-u Halceeon?" asked one in a gruff accent. He (I'm going to at least call it a he) had a long scar running down the right side of his face.

I glared at him, having no idea what he meant by that name. I was not named after a bird, last time I checked.

"4h7dD34, she 'as no me'ory; Comm'der Loki said," the other said; his English, I may add, sounded like he was coughing up a hair ball. He had acid burn like scars on the left side of his face.

"Why are you here?" I asked, slowly, due to their limited education on English.

"We are 'ere t-to conquer," Scar-face stuttered in a matter 'o fact tone.

Obviously, I thought. "No why are you here; specifically here I mean."

"You rea-ason."

"Elaborate, if you please."

"You you you you."

I scowled, not in the slightest bit amused. I honestly felt like choking the aliens out right then and there since I wasn't getting a straight answer. But unfortunately, if I was to get any answer whatsoever, the two aliens had to stay alive for a little longer.

"Nonsense," I said, trying a more mature sounding tone. "Now if you leave and don't attack the innocent citizens over there," I flicked my wrist at the mob of people, who looked lost, "I will then leave you unscathed. Do you understand or do I need to terminate you right here?" Mercy was a very heavy thing I gave out, even though I knew these monsters needed to be eliminated.

"We wirr reave, but so wirr you," Acid replied with more clarity. "You must come wiss us. Orders."

"BS," I said, waving off their 'offer'. The aliens looked confused at the statement. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I, uh, Orders," Acid slurred again, this time a little more aggressively (even with his messed up grammar). "You come!"

"Make. Me." I rumbled monotone. I finally took notice that the three of us were unconsciously circling each other. Thinking deeply for a moment, I knew I still was at a disadvantage. There were two aliens that still could attack the small crowd of New Yorkers any moment; their bright, yet dead, shifty eyes jumped around, looking for more advantages. Thing was, their 'brains' were so simple that I knew their every move; one minute before they even knew.

So, I smiled.

Scar lunged at my right, while Acid shot port side. The afore enemy mentioned shoved his gun toward my stomach like a bayonet. I slinked down quickly, avoiding the horrible wound I would've received. He then pivoted around, trying to stab at my face this time. I swiped it away with the palm of my hand and thrust my other into Scar's neck cavity. With a few ripped wires and the smell of melting metal, he fell easily.

Acid was the last one standing now. He stood stupidly eight feet away from me.

"No mo'e fight. You come a'd no mo'e fight," Acid garbled, his grammar even worse with his hissed slurring. He's trying to rush this, I thought. But why was the question. His computer chip mind was an open book; what could've slipped past me?

Instead of complying with the alien's request I careened forward, catching Acid by surprise as I rammed my metal claws into him and slashed threw, electrocuting his circuits for good measure. Like his other comrades, he collapsed into a heap of smoking metal and flesh.

"Love doing business with you freaks," I chirped, saluting childishly. I felt so stupid.

Unknown POV

The shadows always contained secrets; it was a known fact for everyone, from the oldest to the youngest. Today was no different. In the shades near the abandoned building, a figure watched as the battle played out. He was not one to get his hands dirty, and today was no different. His minions were doing the hard part first, while he would do the "other part" later. But, even though he planned to have the Chitauri do all of his dirty deeds, it seemed as though that wouldn't happen.

He pouted a little (but it came out more of a scowl) at the number of Chitauri left and their horrible grammar, not that he could blame them. After all, Cybertronian was one of the hardest languages to learn. It wasn't that learning it was hard; pronunciation was the problem. Even he was surprised that little Halcyon still knew as much as she did (to be more precise she was quite fluent in it).

None the less, he still knew what was going on; he understood the conversation. The things he had learned during his self-exile (although he didn't see it as that) still astounded him; to a point that was.

Halcyon (or Joyceann) circled his minions, growling slightly. This could have gone on for a while, but with how she totaled the other three... he gave no more than probably ten minutes tops for the rest of the remaining Chitauris' lives.

As predicted, the remaining two Chitauri were eliminated but in less than seven minutes. The first had its neck wires stripped and the second was slashed quite extravagantly. Put out of commission to soon, he thought, shaking his head. Being able to contact the Chitauri in an instant wasn't going to help the situation at the moment.

He needed a better plan. But all he could think of was an actual confrontation. He frowned; but maybe that was the answer.

Confronting her directly maybe the only way, he thought. She has no way of knowing who I really am. And she won't run away… At least I hope she doesn't.

"I guess it is the only way," he sighed. He looked up again to see Joyceann talking to a young Midgardian girl, both looking confused. Taking a deep breath and holding on tightly to his weapon, he stepped out of the shadows and put on a shrewd face, not sure if his was ready.

My PoV

With a now-collapsed team of extraterrestrials, a feeling of relief over took my senses. I walked over to the crowd of New Yorkers (Who clapped for me; pride level at an all-time high) to let them know it was safe to go. Each one thanked me profusely as they left. I felt like collapsing out of exhaustion.

"Um, miss?" asked a small voice. I turned to see a young, petite girl; she had a sweet round face with large, grey eyes, short brown hair, and had to be no more than eight years old. Her mother was a few feet away and her furrowed brow showed that she didn't quite trust her daughter with me.

"Yes?" I answered, folding my wings against myself to seem less menacing.

"Thank you for saving us," she whispered just loud enough for me to hear.

"Well it's what I do little one," I replied, out of breath.

"Miss Hero," she started. "Uh, what were you saying earlier?"

I smiled a bit. "Did I say something you didn't understand?"

"Yes… No." She paused. "What did you say?"

"I don't think I quite understand what you mean."

"Young lady, my daughter means she didn't understand the language you were speaking," the mother of the said girl answered, coming up to me to clarify the mishap.

"I was speaking English… wasn't I? I sometimes slip into Spanish without my knowing."

"Young lady, I'm a language expert from Harvard. That wasn't English or any known human language."

I blinked in surprise. If not a human language, then that meant I was speaking a… An alien language; but how was that possible? An entire language, not to mention even from this planet…

What was even more disturbing, the aliens didn't seem to have any basic grammar about… whatever language I was speaking. So did that mean the aliens just had bad grammar, or was the language not even theirs?

"Well I'm just glad you didn't have to hear what those snakes were saying and you're okay," I said smiling sweetly, wanting to change the subject. The girl smiled as well and giggled a little.

She pointed at one of the decapitated alien heads. "Why did they try to hurt us? Why are they here? Will they come back and hurt me and my mom?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. The scarred one said it was because of me. But I honestly think it was because they wanted to get their butts handed to them," I joked.

The girl giggled some more.

"And as for coming back to hurt you—" I ruffled her hair. "—just think of me and I'll come racing to you as fast as possible." I smiled slyly and walked over to the disembodied head with my hands on my hips.

"Don't mess with me or New York!" I yelled, kicking the head into the air. It landed a few feet away, clanking as it fell back to Earth. The young girl laughed harder and her mother smiled. I beamed with my hands on my hips, exceptionally proud of myself as I laughed.

That was until I heard that laugh; that sickening, small laugh.
He clapped slowly, ominously, his thoughts swirling with darkness. I saw through his piercing green eyes and felt my blood turn cold, sending instant shivers up my spine and through my now trembling wings.

"Very good," he said in a cold, slippery voice. "You took the Chitauri head on; not to mention at an… exceptionally fast pace too. Although, I saw your hesitation when they went after the humans."

"Do I know you?" I asked skeptically. A wave of paranoia made me throw out my claws, crackling and bursting with electricity as if they were on a Jacob's Latter. My wings took on an angelic, yet devilish appearance.

I turned to the mother and her daughter. Go; get to somewhere safe, I thought to the taller. She nodded as if she was used to a telepath and hurried herself and her daughter away from the area. The man in green didn't regard them whatsoever.

"Well, yes, you should. But then again, I guess you don't. Besides that, it's good to see you again—" The man hesitated a bit, thinking of the right word to say. "—Sister."

"Excuse me? Sister? Who do you think you are?" I snapped back hysterically; an even greater sense of unease overtook me, like I had seen him before.
I felt my confidence waver and decline at a steady pace. The way he said 'sister' chilled me to the bone, like deep down inside I knew he was telling the truth. Could he have been? No; impossible… right? "Seriously though, who are you?"

"I am Loki, future ruler of this pathetic planet," he answered, pointing his weapon of choice, a golden staff smoldered cerulean at the top, straight at me. He smirked craftily. "I know who you are, but can you tell me?"

I cocked a brow, confused. "If you find Earth 'pathetic,' why invade?" I asked.

He too cocked a brow, an air of sarcasm in his voice as he spoke. "Reason you'll soon understand if you listen to me." He gave me yet another look, this one of annoyance. "Tell me again if you know who you are."

I felt my lips twitched into a Cheshire cat smile.

"Name's Joyceann Brokenheart; I'mma self-named mutant of New York City and you were stupid enough to go against me. I'm this world's protector, because I've been programmed to do just that: protect." I pointed an accusing finger toward him like a lawyer. "So, get ready to pay the fee for coming."

Ah, yes; my confidence had returned.

Up near the top of a broken and abandoned building, a pair of tranquil, amber eyes watched in astonishment as Joyceann was confronted by Loki. She's absolutely stunning, he thought, than quickly shook the feeling away. Ugh, stop thinking; do something… productive.

"Nightflame," a tenor, feminine voice growled softly from behind. "We have to stop them; with Loki's new powers and her untamed ones…" It trailed off at the end.

Don't remind me. "For now let's wait; I need to know more of what is happening," whispered the white-haired boy.

"Happening, shappening. We need to rescue her," replied another voice from behind him

He didn't know what aggravated him more; the dragons' impatient pleas, or Loki's stupidity. Neither the less, Nightflame would wait for orders; or for a half decent plan to pop into his head. One finally did, but it was pretty half-assed without some help.

A few moments later two more presences came at Nightflame's beckon via headset; one in a red and gold shiny metal suit, the other holding a powerful but heavy hammer. Both were surprised to be pulled away from the battle so quickly and suddenly; even more so surprised to see the winged girl.

"It- it can't be. But it is. Halcyon…" Thor drifted a bit. Until recently, Loki was thought to be dead to go along with missing Halcyon. Now, he was here, attempting to take control of New York; and then the world. But that wasn't what Thor was worried about. The once missing girl known by many names was his adopted sister.

To say the least, wouldn't it disturb you too, if your whole adopted family was together and were going to try to kill each other any minute?

Iron Man, or Tony Stark, had J.A.R.V.I.S., his battle computer/home security system, run a diagnostic on Joyceann/Halcyon/Thunderstorm from his perch on the decomposing building.

"Healthy, mobile, and functional. I'd say she is in perfect condition; but I do warn that her serotonin and paranoia levels are rather high now, sir," reported J.A.R.V.I.S.

"Yeah well don't state the obvious J.A.R.V.I.S."

"Then don't program your computer voices with sarcasm, Stark," Thor suggested, who too could hear the AI's response.

"Is that that what that was?" Nightflame questioned.

"Have you met me?" asked Tony.

"Unfortunately," Nightflame murmured, slightly irritated at the question. A long black, white, and grey neck stuck itself out of the deep shadows finally and looked at its human with sharp garnet eyes.

"Terrence; what's the plan?" he asked in a level, masculine growl. He breathed a miniature ring of smoke from his nostrils.

The tawny eyed boy, who was established as Terrence, considered the possibilities for a moment, and then shrugged. "Fury will want to know, for one." He turned and faced all four of his comrades. "Think of something useful while I contact the Director," he stated vaguely as he pointed at them, then turned and ignored his companions.

"Bossy isn't he?" Iron Man said quietly to Thor.

"As if you aren't worried too?" Thor asked in a monotone voice, casually throwing random bolt of lightning at his brother.

Terrence trekked a few feet away for a rare moment of privacy. Satisfied with the distance, Nightflame tapped his headset, pressing the small button till a holographic screen curved in front of his face and eyes. The screen organized itself instantaneously. When organizing was done, Terrence thought, Call Director Nick Fury.

A moment befell as someone from S.H.I.E.L.D's Helicarrier communications informed Nick Fury, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., that he had a call waiting for him. Nick rushed himself to the control center. The image of a boy with long white hair, a white battle suit with red, canyon-like veins donning his exterior appeared as a hologram before the director.

On Terrence's end, Nick Fury appeared, his signature scowl and eye patch in high definition, and Helicarrier was buzzing with activity in the background.

"Nightflame, you better have a good reason for dragging out Thor and Stark from the battle that'll determine Earth's fate; not to mention contacting me now of all times," demanded an aggravated Fury.

"Sir, I'm pretty sure you would want to know about this. I assure you, Thor and Tony needed to see this too."

"Well then? Give me your apparent, 'good reason.'"

"Sir, we've found the 'Fallen Angel'," Terrence clarified, coughing a little. Fury didn't respond for a moment. He looked to Agent Maria Hill, who was behind him.

"Get me a visual on Nightflame's location and see if you can contact Ms. Potts; tell her the 'Fallen Angel' is officially back on our radar." Agent Hill nodded and got right to it.

Fury turned back to the screen. "Terrence, I know you miss her, but, do not, I repeat, do NOT, engage her right now."

"Terrence does not understand," the boy responded in the third person.

"You know exactly why."

"No I don't."

Fury sighed, exasperated at the second in command. "What is she doing at the moment?"

"Well… Uh, she's," Nightflame paused, looking back at Joyceann and Loki. He could see Joyceann was nervous; Loki could do that to people. He was playing her amnesia to his advantage very well. "She's been confronted by Loki. He's inflicted no damage thus far, but that could change."

Nick Fury sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course Loki had gone to find his adopted sister. Had that been a slight factor in this whole invasion? Fury really didn't know to care. All he knew is that Loki was invading Earth, Nick and so many others' home.

"Sir, any more orders?" Nightflame questioned, a little concerned. Nick Fury being unusually silent wasn't normally a good thing.

Thor and Tony had stopped talking and were watching Terrence for a reaction.

Fury returned then, contacting all five of the warriors threw earpieces. "Your orders are this: to wait and watch to see what happens. Do not engage unless major physical mutilation from the crazy green Asgardian is afflicted on the 'Fallen Angel.'"

Thor scoffed. "Nick Fury, Loki will attack her, wither she's his family or not; you know that." The others nodded in agreement.

"Now isn't that convenient that I gave you those orders?" Nick's voice warned. "There isn't time for pointing out the obvious; I know quite well Loki will attack."

The Asgardian quieted and backed down while Tony spoke up. "Got it Fury, over and out. And by the way, I told J.A.R.V.I.S. that too."

Not caring about what Tony had to say, Nick signed off his end just as Maria Hill came back.

"Sir," she said. "We have a visual on Terrance, Tony, and Thor's location and Loki is indeed hashing it out with the 'Fallen Angel'. But we cannot contact Ms. Potts. Should we patch into her plane and-"

Fury held up a hand. "No, don't push yourself. I hate to say it, but Joyceann isn't our main priority; it's Loki and his supposed Doomsday. We'll just work with what we have for now; we have enough worries as it is." Agent Hill nodded. Wither either agents wanted to admit it or not, they were nervous as hell.

Meanwhile, Terrence finally sighed in relief on his side as the screen shut down.

"I honestly don't appreciate it when people call my brother crazy," sighed Thor.

"Like you don't at times," teased the reptile with garnet eyes, trying to lift the mood. Everyone chuckled a little at that.

But just as things had steadied, a scream of agony erupted from the scene down below.

Whoo!

Hello guys, and thanks for reading this first chapter. If you could, please tell me how you like it and if there's any mistakes. Thanks!

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