This is my VERY FIRST fanfic EVER, so please go easy on me. If this sucks entirely and should be burned a thousand times over, I apologize greatly! Review please, I would really like your feedback so I can make this fanfic as best as it can be.
Chapter One
*Charlie's POV*
"Charlie. Charlie? Charlie!"
Charlie Stark reluctantly pulled her nose out of the book she was reading. One of her biggest pet peeves was when someone tried talking to her when she was busy living another life within the pages of her books. She glared at her father. He could have at least waited until she was done the chapter.
"What do you want?"
"We have to go. Now. So put that book down and let's go." He reached for the book. Bad move. In an instant Charlie was up, one hand guarding her book and the other in a fist just inches away from her father's face.
"How many times do I have to tell you: don't ever touch my books, Tony." Her dark eyes glittered with disgust as she strutted out of the common area and away from her father, who hung back with a dark look of his own. Charlie couldn't help but smirk as he finally walked away, muttering something under his breath. She refused to call her father 'dad.' Maybe it was because she was just so stubborn and refused to give people what they wanted. Or maybe it was because she hated him. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word. But how would you feel towards someone who forced you to live in secret for your whole life? How would you feel towards someone who was way too arrogant and obnoxious just because he was the one and only Iron Man? And on top of that, he gave her the worst name in history. Charlotte. In attempt to make the name less prissy, she shortened it to Charlie.
Moving through the mansion, she made her way to her luxurious room. Luxurious was an understatement. Her room was huge. With two giant TV screens lining her walls, her own personal hot tub, massive king bed, and a million dollar view out the window, it was more than perfect. Though the part she liked the most was the library she had built into the far corner. Hundreds of books lay on display on the marble shelves, each holding a new world to be discovered inside. Charlie placed her book back on the shelf and took a look at herself in the mirror, hoping she looked decent enough for the SHIELD meeting.
A petite girl stared back at her, with long dark hair flowing past her chest and into the middle of her waist. Tony had pestered her to cut it numerous times, and just because he wanted her to, she didn't. She did a quick once over of her outfit: dark jeans, R5 shirt, and ball cap. Not your stereotypical rich girl look, but it was her. With a confident breath, she slipped on her favorite pair of Keds and joined her parents in the Audi R8. Her mother flashed a smile as she hopped in. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a classy, sophisticated ponytail.
"It's a big day," Said Pepper.
"So I've heard," Charlie grumbled.
*Melissa's POV*
Melissa swung from the metal bar, completing a triple flip before landing with as much noise as a butterfly. In an instant she was running – one hundred meters, two hundred meters – not once losing her breath. Pulling an arrow from her back, she strung her bow. She released it and like always, it hit dead centre of the target. Never once did she miss. After all, she was the daughter of Hawkeye and Black Widow. It was in her genes to have a perfect shot. She made a vow to never, ever disappoint her parents. Their approval was everything. Weather it was a foamy target or a boys heart, Melissa always got a bullseye.
She stripped out of her training attire and hopped into a steamy shower in her deluxe bathroom, letting the hot water moisten her skin and wash off the stress of the week. Recently, she had spent most of her time training and learning, barely leaving time to eat or even sleep. She would do whatever it took to be the best. Hastily, she washed herself and allowed herself a few spare minutes to just stand under the hot waterfall. Stepping out of the shower she wrapped a towel around her thin body and began combing out her auburn curls. She then applied a thin layer of eyeliner on her top lids, added some mascara, and finished off with a coat of her favorite lip gloss: Cherry Me. Satisfied, she dressed and headed out.
Though she would never admit it, Melissa was nervous.
*Theo's POV*
Through the V12 Vantage window, Theodore Banner saw the world flash by quickly, leaving no time to stop and smell the roses. Not that there was much roses to smell, but you get the picture. His father sat in the driver's seat, with classis rock that no one was paying attention to playing on the radio. Bruce had insisted on driving to the meeting.
Like he normally did when he was anxious, Theo ran a hair through his dark dishevelled hair and inhaled a deep breathe, letting it out slowly.
"Relaxation techniques are key," His father had always told him. And his father would know.
All his life, Theo had been trained to contain his anger and let the monster out on his own terms. It had taken him years to master it; at first he would turn at the littlest pinch of anger. Now he could control it – wherever and whenever.
The secret? Always be angry.
*Isabel's POV*
"Hey sweetie, your father is going to accompany you today to the meeting and I won't be there. Apparently only actual team members are allowed to be present," Isabel's mom said as she chopped carrots. Isabel nodded, watching her mom work. Jane's pretty brown hair was pulled into a messy bun with one loose strand falling into her eyes. Isabel would forever be jealous of her mother's beauty. It was no wonder a God from Asgard fell in love with her. On cue, her dad entered the room – his grand presence like a lightning bolt. He leaned over to his beloved Jane, planting a kiss on her cheek.
"Blegh!" Isabel made a face as she teased her parents, who just laughed. Leaving the two love-birds alone, she headed down to her room. It was a normal room – nothing fancy or impressive. Just a normal seventeen year-old girls type of place. She supposed, being the daughter Thor and all, she should be crazy rich and spoiled rotten. That wasn't the case at all. Her mom had insisted on living a simple and normal life, since her dad spent his time going back and forth between worlds. They weren't poor, but they weren't swimming in gold either.
Isabel ran a brush through her long chestnut hair and slapped on some lipstick. Pulling on her combat boots and scarf, she did a once over in the mirror, then grabbed her purse. Out of habit she slipped a book into her bag. Just in case there was time to read a few lines.
*Noah's POV*
The blazer fit perfectly. With its navy blue material and flawless trim, it almost seemed like it was made just for Noah. Well, actually, it was.
"How do you like it?" Maria asked, fiddling with her hands.
"I love it!" Noah exclaimed to his seamstress. The small, aging lady beamed at his approval. Noah took another glance in the mirror. He had to admit, his outfit. With his blue plaid shirt, black jeans, and combat boots all complete with an original blazer, he would surely make a good first impression on the other New Avengers heroes. A knock came from his bedroom door, followed by his father poking a head in.
"Hey there son, lookin' good."
"Thanks dad," Noah smirked. Maria left him alone, and the instant she was gone Noah collapsed on his bed. He was exhausted. Surprisingly, it wasn't all fun and games being the offspring of a superhero. He was expected to walk in his father's footsteps. Not that he was complaining, but it was a lot of expectations to live up to. Reluctantly he sat up sighed. Leaving his gigantic, million dollar bedroom behind, he followed his father out into the kitchen for a bite to eat before leaving. Their house was huge and magnificent, but it was normal for Noah. It was all he'd ever known – being the son of Captain America and all. When Noah had first heard his dad's story and learned his dad should technically be almost a century old, he almost laughed out loud. But after learning every else about his father and the adventures he'd had, Noah would believe almost anything.
Except for love.
He would never believe in love