Lyra 'Energy' Fury: Knowing Nothing

If it wasn't for the fact that my arms were killing me, I'd have started slapping, punching, kneeing, and any other '-ing' word that meant doing damage, people left and right. Man, this hurts like hell! The burns on my arms have started acting up again, so here I am, sitting on a hospital bed, while yet another doctor examined the scar tissue and poked at the throbbing nerves. This is actually quite normal, really, believe it or not. As a matter of fact, this is probably the only doctor in the tri-state area that hasn't been confused by my ordeal and pain.

Wondering why I have burn marks, right? Well, all things considered, it's natural. No, I didn't get caught in a house fire while the building was crumbling to the ground. And no, it wasn't some stupid campfire accident an idiot relative of mine caused, although I do have a small burn scar on my leg for that. Oh, no, these scars on my arms are just as sensitive as the rest of my skin, and the only reason they're there is because of an electrical current that naturally runs through my body. Although, electrical current may be a bit of a misguided description. I'm not too sure on what it is exactly, but that's the best I've come up with.

Now then, the doctor walks out of the room and leaves me with an overly concerned adoptive father and disgruntled step-mother. And I know that thought that just went through your head! This is not a Disney freaking story! So keep you bleeping mouth shut! Oh, and expect rather strange curse words, too.

The two of them had been called when I came into the hospital, considering they were my contacts on record for the hospital. I should change that sometime soon. Anyway, with them both staring at me, once more that feeling of being a five year old child fills me all over again. Who would've thought that I'd be in that self-conscious state again?

Honestly, what's so wrong with treating me like an adult? I make plenty of my own decisions, and them hearing about me being here only proves me right; I'm trying to take care of myself. Of course, the two of them see it differently; to them, I'm still dependent. How to change that?

"Are you listening?"

I flinch and look at my father, completely lost. He sighs dejectedly, shaking his head out of annoyance, fondness, and some other emotion I don't feel like pinpointing.

"Alright, where's my niece?"

"Uncle Nick!"

Before either of my parents can stop me, I bound out of the room and into the waiting arms of my uncle. As per usual, he's dressed in dark clothes, and his signature black trench coat is covering the majority of his muscles. Pushing me off him, he pulls a box out of his pocket and holds it out to me.

"Sorry it's late. Your birthday found me on the other side of the world and in India."

With a bright smile, I take the box and open it to a beautiful necklace. A sparrow pendant, my favorite bird in the world, is in a frozen flight attached to a silver chain. Made of a blue gemstone, it rests comfortably in a silver outline and backing. And I personally waste no time is clasping it around my neck with a goofy grin on my face. Admiring it against my dark blue shirt, my eyes glisten happily with forming tears. My uncle knows just what to do to make me happy.

Another hug for him! Evil bitch troller behind me, however, doesn't agree so much. I can just feel the distaste for my present oozing from her glare.

"Really? Another bird? Can't you find something a little more original?"

"Honestly, Nora, I don't have to. If it makes her happy, I'd buy her first handgun for her. But I believe her real mother's last wish was that she grow up without knowing that particular type of violence," Nick growled. He never liked the woman in the first place, although he's perfectly alright with my adoptive father, as seen by the acknowledging nod to the man still in the exam room.

"Uncle! When do I get to go with you on vacation? You promised!"

My uncle's extremely rare smile appears on his face; small, yet noticeable if you've noticed it before. And I can tell something really amazing is about to happen.

"Actually, kiddo, that's why I'm here. Turns out, there's plenty of people just dying to meet you." A few mumblings follow afterward, but I'm not really listening to it; my mind's on the 'people dying to meet you' part. My face lights up, and the sound of the troller behind me scoffing in contempt just makes it all the more brighter. The next thing to leave my mouth:

"What do I need and when do we leave!?"

A woman with the most gorgeous red hair I've ever seen is waiting next to the black car in front of the hospital. Her jumpsuit is marked with that eagle logo that I've seen on my uncle's clothes a few times. Which make her a coworker, although that bright smile on her face is a little worrying; it seems somewhat forced and fake.

"Finally. Another girl joins the ship."

"Lyra," Uncles says. In case you're wondering, that's me. "This is Natasha Romanoff, an agent that I work with."

"Coworker number one," I bounce cheerily. "What's the bag?"

"You're clothes." I stare at her, lost. "I went to your house and packed a bag for you. Better than Tony doing it."

"He wouldn't dare," Uncle Nick states simply as he walks around the car and climbs into the driver's seat.

Natasha opens the front passenger door for me and climbs into the back with my bag. It feels a little weird knowing someone else packed for me, and it reminds me of them. They would always go through my suitcase when we went on a trip to make sure I didn't forget anything. Now, anytime I go anywhere, I usually stop by their memorial to say goodbye and promise that I'll be back. Which reminds me, before I get too far lost.

"Hey, Uncle?"

My uncle nods to me and takes a turn at the first stop light we comes to, knowing exactly what I want. When we stop outside the cemetery gates, I can feel Natasha's curiosity from the back seat.

"We'll be right here. Don't take too long," my Uncle says as he relaxes in his seat.

Without another, word, I climb from the car and go through the gate.

"Director?"

"Her parents' graves."

Natasha Romanoff stares at the gate as it closes behind Lyra Fury. That niggling doubt in the back of her mind surfaces as she sees the burns on the girl's arms. The file that SHIELD has on Lyra Patricia Fury is riddled with accidents, fires, and the occasional explosion, not to mention deaths and trials. This girl, the niece of the director of SHIELD, has a rather extraordinary ability, of which she still isn't aware of.

"Do you plan on adding her to the team, sir?"

Nick Fury sighs, a feeling of helplessness in his heart. "I have no choice but to. It's become rather clear to the board that she has an extraordinary gift, and me trying to hide her won't work anymore."

Natasha Romanoff stares at her director incredulously. In her entire career, she'd never heard of him hiding anything besides government secrets. Nor had she ever heard him sound so upset or worried; she actually had never heard an emotion outside of annoyance, anger, or calm from the man.

"Mom! Dad!" I shout as I run up the hill in excitement.

There, at the top, overlooking the entire cemetery, just like they wanted, is their graves. The SHIELD logo is engraved on my fathers, a few roses and an eagle on my mother's. Both are made of that pure white marble, which was somehow tempered to be erosion resistant. I never asked Uncle Nick how he'd managed that, but I'm grateful nonetheless.

"I'm finally going on a trip with Uncle! And I know what you're gonna say, Mom. 'It's too danger' or 'Don't you dare.' But it's alright! I know you want me safe and secure, with no worries about people being hurt or worse. That's not right, though," I whisper to the stones in front of me. "Telling me not to worry will only cause me to worry more. So I'm going to do the only thing I can think of: I'm going to help Uncle with his work!"

And with that said, I kiss both graves, say 'I love you. Bye!' and am off down the hill and back to the car. Once in the passenger's seat again, with my seat belt buckled, my Uncle is driving down the road. My eyes watch as the buildings pass me by, each one reminding me more and more that I'm finally leaving with my Uncle.

"One more thing before we get there, Lyra."

I look at my uncle with a curious and all-believing gaze. He would never lie to me, so I have no reason to doubt the man.

"Only a few people on that ship will know who you are, alright? I'll let you know who they are later, but from now on, while with the SHIELD team, you are Lyra Terry. Got it?"

"You betcha, sir!" I cheer happily and mock salute.

There's that nearly unnoticeable smile again.

I truly do understand. Uncle doesn't want anyone knowing me, which means that he's not my uncle around other people. He'll be his usual working self, and I'd better be ready to see just what he's like. Of course, that also means he has to be his usual work self with me, too. That may become a bit of a problem, because I'm prone to fits of tears when my feelings are torn at enough.

"So, then, Lyra. You'll be sticking with me, kay?"

I nod happily to the woman behind me, knowing her face hasn't changed.

"Who else will know?"

"You'll meet them on the ship," Uncle states, ending the discussion.

Woah… that's all I got… Woah…

The helicarrier that Uncle had driven to is huge. And I've gotten some strange looks already, probably because Uncle had been the one driving. On the way here, he'd told me exactly who he is on this particular flying ship; he's the boss. And everyone here knows it. As a result, he doesn't usually disappear at any given time to do personal errands, and the one he'd just done, which was collecting me, has been passed off as a recruitment meeting.

Natasha is right beside me, my bag still in her hand, although I tried to take it from her, and walking quickly, quietly, and as a complete professional. Somehow, I think I may have picked the wrong promise to force my uncle to keep. Something just doesn't feel right. But I shake that feeling anyway and race after my uncle and Natasha.

The two of them walk up the ramp into a door, not slowing down as I race up behind them, trying to keep up with their quick strides. I've never really been one for fast pace unless it was necessary. Finally, the two of them stop.

"Agent Romanoff, I'm leaving her with you," Uncle Nick says coolly.

He gives me a meaningful glance and walks into a room, from which I can hear an argument about a 70 year old virgin. Not quite sure about that one, but whatever. Natasha turns to me with a forced smile and says to follow her for a little longer. Thankfully, she's a little more hospitable now and walks a slower pace for me to keep up with.

Every door we pass and ever hallway we see is the same, and I sort of wonder how she knows where she's going. Ooo! Kitchen! The idea of making cake, cookies, brownies, and any other dessert or pastry makes me giddy. Hopefully I can get in there soon. The next door we pass is a longer ways down the corridor than usual, and a double door. Above it is the word 'Cafeteria.' Yay! Lunch place!

It then occurs to me that she walked by it on purpose, and I smile shyly. "Thank you." She smiles back at me and keeps walking.

After an hour of walking around, in which I saw the food place, the training place, the lab place, which had a guy with glasses working inside, and a place with a giant open space in it. A little discomforting, but Natasha explained that the space was originally a containment facility for problematic people… Like some guy named Loki…

Seriously? Who the hell name's their kid Loki? That's just asking for abuse and bullying.

Finally… My room! It's simple, really. A bed on the left with a door in the back to a bathroom. A dresser is set beneath a square outline on the wall, which Natasha informs me is a flat screen TV set behind a sliding panel. Push it, and the panel moves… yeah, that's getting a lot of use soon.

But one thing that doesn't seem rather normal, judging by Natasha's stare, is the box on the dresser. It's got a bow on it, and it looks like yet another birthday present; the tag on it says so. But before I can open it, Natasha stops me.

"You don't know what that is, and there's no sender. I'm gonna take it with me for Banner to look at, just in case."

"Eh!? But it's my birthday present! I wanna open it!"

I start flailing my arms wildly like a little kid. Sure, I'm doing it on purpose, and because I'm trying to be annoying, but still. The fact is that I want my present! And I want it NOW! So I continue flailing my arms and bawling, until finally she starts rubbing her temple and holds out the box.

With a cheery giggle, I take the box and tear off the paper. Pulling open the lid, I see a ball… Really? A ball? And it's not even a bouncy ball! Looking at it closely, I can see stuff swirling around inside it. Taking it out of said box, I examine it closely with wonder. The surface is glass and it looks like gray smoke inside of it. Immediately, as I start to wonder who gave it to me, a darkened face with a smirk breaks through the smoke as the person walks down a street.

"What is this thing?" I ask as I stare at the person.

Natasha comes closer and stares into it as well. The darkened face looks over and it's almost like the person is staring at me. With a shock, I drop the ball, letting it hit the floor. Whatever it is, I sure as hell don't want to pick it back up.

"Lyra?" Natasha picks the ball up herself, staring into it.

"Yeah?"

"Can I take this to Banner now?"

I nod blankly and hear her leave the room. My bag sits next to the dresser, the box still in my other hand. A swift shiver runs along my spine and I shake my head to clear away a rather unsavory thought.

"So you're the new kid!"

Jumping, the box falls from my hand and I stare at the open doorway. What I see is both amazing and annoying. I've heard plenty about this guy; a player with no regard to the girls, flirtatious and most certainly not someone my uncle would want me near. But my parents… well, they were good people so I've force myself into that persona as well. A small smile on my face, I nod.

"Sure," I say sweetly. "Let's go with that."

Tony Stark, the billionaire, philanthropist, playboy, and to me, idiot stands in my doorway, leaning against the frame. He quirks an eyebrow in question, but I shove him off the doorframe before he says anything.

"Cut it out, Tony. You shouldn't even be near her room," said another new face, who I somehow recognize but can't really place.

"Steve Rogers, miss. You'll have to ignore Stark; he can get ahead of himself."

I smile brightly and nod; I think I like this guy. He's polite, cute, and he doesn't smell like liquor, which is currently infuriating me. The two of them have begun a back and forth argument, in which I'm not participating but still thoroughly enjoying.

"Stark! Rogers! What are you two doing?"

Uncle! Unfortunately, I must restrain myself from bounding up and giving the man a hug, like I usually do. He seems a lot more fierce now than when I usually see him, too, so that's giving me somewhat of an advantage against my impulses.

"Nothing, sir," Steve responds with a salute. "Just saying hello to the new recruit.

"About that," I mutter, gaining everyone's attention. "Why exactly am I a new recruit?"

"Did Agent Romanoff not explain it?" my uncle says with annoyance.

My shoulders move into a shrug. She did say something about me helping out around here, but I was too busy staring at the rooms and thinking about food. I've got something of a one-track mind. Uncle squeezes the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger before simply walking away. Tony looks at me incredulously, then smirks, a glimmer in his eyes.

"So, kiddo," he says smoothly, "wanna tell me how you got Fury to be gentle with you?"

"Huh?"

Steve looks at me quizzically before nodding his head. "He's right. Fury would usually start a lecture on incompetence and attention. How'd you manage to escape that when you only just met him?"

"Oh! That's because-" I start before slapping my hands over my mouth. I doubt either of these two are supposed to be the people who know who I am.

Tony raises an eyebrow, his expression calculating, before realization dawns on him and he claps my shoulder. The broad grin on his face makes me wary, and I immediately brush his hand off. Steve stares between us, lost on what just happened.

"Welcome aboard, kiddo! You have no idea how long I waited to meet you!" Tony cheers happily. "I think we need to introduce you to everyone, and there's sure as hell gonna be a party for it!"

Party?

Tony Stark throws one hell of a party. How exactly he convinced my uncle, though, I'm not sure I want to know. Hopefully it was just dumb luck and today was a holiday anyways. Well, whatever! Standing on the balcony of Stark Tower, I couldn't really care less.

"So, kiddo," comes Tony's voice from the doorway.

I turn to him, my eyes bright and a smile on my face. "What's up, Tin Man?"

Tony scoffs. "You heard too much about Thor's brother."

"That I did. And although I agree, he's a dick and an idiot, I believe his nicknames for all of you to be quite hilarious."

Tony grimaces for a moment before his face turns bright with a grin. "Whatever! Now then! Tell, Ms. Fury, what brings you to SHIELD?"

My eyes meet Tony's, diving into the depths for a moment, before I open my mouth to speak. "Because I want to be here."

The look on Tony's face is of pure disbelief. "You have no idea what SHIELD is, do you?"

I smile brightly. "Nope! But I want to help my uncle, and if he's a part of SHEILD, I see no reason not to join in. I love my uncle, and he loves me. That's all there is to it!"

The billionaire playboy shakes his head sadly. "Unfortunately, kiddo, there's a lot more to it."

He motions for me to follow him, leading me away from the party and down several sets of stairs. At the bottom is a workshop, and my eyes widen as I take in a wall of Iron Man suits, each one ready for takeoff at any moment. Each part of the armors shine brightly, as if knowing they were doing the world good just by existing.

"Pretty cool, right?"

I nod my head and take a deep breath. "I've always thought the color scheme was a bit off, though." His scoffing behind me makes me smile. "So you want people to scream 'Go Gryffindor' every time you fly past them?"

The sound of a chuckle, followed by banging metal and a curse, make me turn around. A smirk plasters itself onto my face. Tony Stark is glaring at a machine with a hand, most likely a robotic assistant, and rubbing the side of his head.

"Something wrong, Mr. Stark?"

He glares at me, amused. "Never thought of that."

"It sometimes takes a stupid person to open up a genius perspective."

A bright grin grows on the man's face and he beckons me over to a monitor. See through and touch screen, it's rather impressive, but what's truly awesome is that Tony flicks his hand on it and a 3d file image shows up on a holographic projector a little ways away. Man, now I want one!

"When do I get a cool toy like that?"

Tony laughs wholeheartedly. "If you want, I'll make you a suit, for a price," is his answer, along with a suggestive wink.

One slap over the head later, we're going through a file on SHEILD exploits and operations. Assassinations and weapon development, espionage and personnel information, he has it all. I'm starting to understand why, about a year ago, my uncle told me he wouldn't be able to visit as often as he used to. He probably started dealing with Tony and the tech genius's little 'hobby,' as he like to call it.

"I'm guessing you'll get in a lot of trouble if I tell Uncle, right?"

Tony looks at me amused. "Well, yeah. But it's not like he can do anything."

I smirk and raise my eyebrows at him. Tony immediately realizes his mistake; he just gave me blackmail material. But there is something bothering me. The files in the system included one with my name on it. My new pervert friend had steered me far away from it, denying my access to the file. Now might be a good time to practice blackmail.

"My file, Richie Rich. Open it," I demand with a cross of my arms and a deadpan stare.

Tony smirks and shakes his head. "Or what?"

"Or…" I roll my eyes left and right for a few moments, trying to pick a scenario. "Or I tell Uncle and give him a plan of action! You'll be disciplined, and you'll probably lose every last ounce of liquor in this place."

His face pales and he instantly starts running through the files and back to mine. He swipes the screen, sending the file into the holographic projector and turns to leave. Before he goes through the door, though, he turns back with a sad and knowing smile.

"Just try not to be too upset, alright?" I raise an eyebrow and look at the hologram file. "Sometimes people feel like they have to lie to the ones they love."

I turn back to him and nod, then return my attention to the file and pull it open. As the sound of the door closes, I pick a random surveillance video from when I seven. Rather strange, really, because it's of a sports competition; I'm playing softball and it's my miracle game where I pretty much carried the entire team by hitting home run after home run. The umpires mercy ruled the game and my coach was accused of cheating, while I was dragged off by my parents in a rush to the car. No matter what I tried afterwards, though, I just couldn't hit another home run.

The next thing I pull up is another video from when I was ten. It's a school talent show and I'm playing the violin, which my teacher had told me would be pointless, since I didn't have an ounce of musical talent. And yet, I won the trophy by playing the Devil's Trill, an extremely difficult piece created by the composer Tartini, and rumored to be the omen of possession of the devil himself. But after that performance, I could never replicate the sounds; I broke quite a few violin strings trying. I did, however, figure out how to play the violin in general.

My next choice was from my high school graduation, which I don't really remember all that well. And the video explains why. Right as I shake hands with my education district's chairman, the camera light flashing, I change. The hair that is usually a bright orange darkens to pure black and the arm of the man I'm shaking hands with snaps; I didn't move.

A glow is resting itself around my hand as I release the chairman of the board of education for my district. Then, my attention turns to those around me as a few people start screaming and some men come up to restrain me. They, too, suffer injuries at some unknown force. As the damages increase, fear, panic, and screams abound from everywhere. Flames burst from nowhere as the camera moves about, trying to get closer to me. Finally, the video just stops altogether.

My eyes watch the timer on the video continue until it reaches ten minutes and the picture returns, showing me bound and restrained, thrashing around on a pile of debris. There had obviously been an explosion. Before it can continue, though, a hand reaches past me and stops the video.

"Like I said," Tony says sadly, "sometimes people feel like they have to lie."

My eyes stare off at nothing as I replay his words in my head. No, I'm not angry. No, I'm not upset. I'm not quite sure what I am, right now. Somewhere between broken and whole. After all, I just found out how my parents died; their bodies had been in the background images as I thrashed around on a pile of debris.

I down the 15th beer with ease, Tony and Clint having trouble keeping up. Tony had dragged me from his workshop and demanded a drinking contest. Thor was immediately disqualified, along with Steve, and Natasha and Bruce both said 'Hell no.' Naturally, that just left us. So, while Jarvis drops beers on the table from a tube and onto the table, somehow not breaking them, the three of us are downing them as best we can. And I'm currently winning.

Clint looks like he's about to fall backwards from his chair, and Tony's head is falling-

"Tony!"

His head just slammed on the table and he falls from his seat onto the floor. A startled Pepper picks him up and calls for Thor to give her a hand. Which leaves me and birdbrain, who's eyeing me suspiciously.

"How the… hell… are you this good?"

I smirk. "I don't know what you mean," I reply smoothly and unslurred while downing my 16th beer.

He tries to do the same, but since he's only on his 11th, it's pretty clear that he's going to fail without catching up. So I pick up my 17th, and last, beer and down it quickly before standing up and moving behind Clint. His hands lose their grip and the beer bottle drops on the table as he begins to fall back. With a roll of my eyes, I hold out my arms, and feel his entire torso fall into them.

"You're not as heavy as you look," I say, although he's still heavy enough to give me some difficulty.

Bruce walks in and smiles softly, seeing me having trouble. "Need a hand?" I grin at him and nod. "I suppose this makes you reigning champion, now. Clint's held that title for a while."

"I wonder if I could outdrink the demi-god?"

Bruce's soft chuckle makes me smile. He's a sweetie, and I could honestly see him as a brother figure with no problem. Steve has that same aura as well, albeit slightly more protective; he almost tore me from my drinking seat. With a bright smile to Bruce, we lift Clint onto our shoulders and carry him to his room. Once that's done, and I slipped the marksman into bed, we leave him alone to sleep himself into a hangover.

Speaking of which.

The next morning is chaotic and grumpy. Everything's clean, thanks to Jarvis, and the only problem is the looks on Clint and Tony's faces. Both of them look miserable, and both have icepacks on their heads. Slapping my hand over my mouth, I stare at the both of them while holding back an obnoxious laugh.

"Good morning, Miss F-"

"Lyra, Jarvis!" I say quickly. Clint and Tony both flinch at the loudness of my voice and glare at me.

"Very well, Miss Lyra. Would you care for an aspirin?"

"No, but thank you, Jarvis. I'll be fine."

Both boys' faces change drastically to one of disbelief.

"Jarvis?" Tony asks cautiously.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do a drink count for the drinking contest last night. Who won?"

After a second of silence, Jarvis comes over the room's speakers. "Seven for you, sir. 15 for Clint," who, at the mention of his number, smiled happily, "And 28 for Miss Lyra."

"Wow… Really? I could've sworn I only drank 17…"

"I do believe, sir, that makes Miss Lyra the winner."

The boys at the table have dropped their ice bags and are staring at me, horror written in every line of their faces. It's as if they were staring at a monster. I merely shrug my shoulders at the attention.

"No more drinking games for you!" Tony shouts as he stands up with such force that his chair topples back and slams to the floor.

The sound makes both of them grasp their heads in pain. Immediately, a cabinet opens and a turnstile rotates to a set of medicine. Moving over and taking a closer look, I see an assortment of aspirins of differing strengths. Considering how they're acting, I do believe max is appropriate at this time. Taking the bottle from the cabinet, I see the glasses door fly open. With two of those in my hand, I hold each under the faucet as it turns on and off automatically at Jarvis's command.

"Thank you, Jarvis," I say happily as I place the glasses before each of them and distribute two pills to both of them.

"You're welcome, Miss Lyra."

With the aspirin in front of them, both boys sigh in relief and swallow the pills whole, then drink the entire glasses that sit in front of them. It's rather comedic, really, how they react as everyone else gets up from sleeping in. As a matter of fact, I'm quite surprised that we all slept in past noon. I've never been one for sleeping in like that; I enjoy my usual routine.

"So, you think Lyra has telekinesis?" Bruce asks skeptically. "How would SHIELD have missed her the entire time?"

"That, my dear bro," Tony says with mock annoyance, "is a complete mystery."

"Bullshit it is," Clint scoffs with an ice pack still on his head.

Lyra is currently in her room, trying on a jumpsuit that Natasha had brought down with her. The entire Avengers team is in the living room, minus one Thor who went back to Asgard for an emergency, discussing her and her abilities.

"Jarvis, roll the tape."

"Yes, sir."

On the flat screen mounted on the wall, a computer desktop pops up and files immediately begin to open left and right, leading to a file labeled Lyra Terry. Tony had respectfully changed the folder's name at the director's insistence; the man's desperation in his eyes had been completely foreign to Stark. Once the file opens up completely, multiple video windows open as well, depicting a number of events in the woman's life.

One is of a softball game, where she hits home run after home run. Another has her playing the Devil's Trill perfectly and without mistake. On the far left is one at a mall, where explosions are occurring left and right in what appears to be a terrorist attack. In the bottom right corner is a video showing a vacation on a beach and some rather amazing waves as she surfs along the water. Behind these main videos are numerous others showing court hearings in which she testified, along with news reports containing her name and information.

"Holy crap," Natasha whispers. "What the hell is Fury thinking? This girl is more of a problem than Bruce."

"Sir. Should I pull up the last video?"

Tony stares at the file the mouse is currently hovering over, labeled 'HS Graduation Incident.' With a final sigh, he gives the go ahead and the entire footage of her rampage during her graduation day is revealed to the entire team, minus one Asgardian. They all watch in horror as people are flung everywhere, bones broken, necks snapped, splintered wood impaling people left and right. And Natasha's words finally sink in.

"She's just like me," Bruce whispers in pain, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "They probably have a cage for her on that flying ship, too."

Tony leans against the wall next to the flat screen. "They don't have a separate one, but they did replace your old one, so I assume it could be dual purposed. Doubt they'll use it, though."

"And why is that?" Steve asks hesitantly.

"I can't say," Tony sighs. "Fury has me under an oath of silence."

"You? Keeping a promise to be quiet?" Bruce asks, trying to hold back a laugh.

"Where this kid's concerned, I'd say that promise is justified. I'm sure the two will talk when they believe it's necessary."

"Tasha~!" Lyra's voice rings out from down the hall. "I can't get the zipper in the back!" A girl bounces into the room, a jumpsuit fitting her figure loosely. "Can you get it for me?"

Her hair is bouncing and waved, and the color shines calmly in orange. Her eyes are shining in a bright and happy hazel-green mixture, disappearing only when she notices the video on replay. Tony sees the screen as well and slams the power button. With her head down, the girl rushes back down the hall and everyone hears the door slam.

"Anyone want a shot at getting that shine back?" Tony asks.