The concepts of Loki and all related affiliates are © Marvel & Stan Lee in all forms & aspects. I claim Charlotte Dumitrescu & all original entities in their entirety. Plagiarism is a disease. Please do not steal/"borrow" this story in any shape, form, or fashion.

January 1975

"Huey 7, come in."

Back then, it wasn't too hard to go to school and be out relatively soon. At the tender age of 17, we were being thrown out the front doors of high school with nothing but a paper in our wake. Some graduation for four kids. Why go through the effort when the rest of us would be dead soon anyways?There weren't enough students to make up a senior class, gone to fight in 'Nam. It had been my mother's wish to follow in her footsteps as a nurse in the New World, full of freedom. Her opinion quickly changed when I was yanking out my own baby teeth as a youngling and begging the doctor to let me give myself the shots. I remember my mother's face clearly; she thought I was going to be an addict. It ran in the family; that much I was sure of. Who wants to hear their child giggle before laughing Hysterically, "Mami! Lemme, lemme! Vreau să-l facă, Mami! I want to do it!"

I figured they would let me go when the doctors thought I was too harsh when stitching a soldier up, or giving a kid a band-aid. A few rounds of "Toughen up, Sweetie, you're going to be alright," instead of the usual "It's going to be alright, Sweetheart," when you know that it won't turn out for the better. The next morning during rounds, you'd have to bite back tears as they removed another body. It wasn't a future I would subjugate myself to. Nevertheless, we stayed in Los Angeles, training for when we were ordered for a full invasion. South Vietnam was falling, but they wouldn't pull out. Tens of thousands of men were sent back every day, never to live their lives the same again. Some didn't come home anyways, unable to adjust to the everyday routine of mundane life. We were told to live with it because there was nothing we could do to change the future. Sure, they signed a pretty slip of paper, but it wasn't reality. We still had men fighting to get out of there.

What a future, right? Left back home to our own devices, begging each morning to reveal the remnants of our forces breaching the horizon. The UH-1N from Bell? No problem, we had to do something with our time and the Huey was a calling. I went to high school with 49 kids in my grade. 44 of them died in 'Nam for their country that lost the war. While we were going to university and playing with whirlybirds, courtesy of the delightful Mr. Ford, our friends were out there dying so that we could live another day. All in vain.

"Huey 7," There was a short pause before crackled again in her ear, not giving her a moment to respond. "You are needed back at the hanger immediately. Do you copy?"

Lemme do it, Mami.

"Huey 7 to Base, copy zat," Gazing over to the radar, the blonde sighed before shifting the cyclic slightly, angling back to home base while keeping her left hand on the shaft. Going up and down the battered coast of California had long lost its appeal, but what else was there to do? Eyeing the large landing strip that attached to Base, she reached up to hit one of the mark lights' switch before adjusting her headset. "Base, zis is Huey 7. Struts and skids are clear. Waiting for confirmation of descent, over."

"Huey 7, you are cleared for descent." After hovering for little over half a minute, the gear shifted and the hum of the struts and wheels aligning could be heard. Within the last half of the minute, the bird was down on the ground and powered down, awaiting its next mission. The ground was wet, with mud sloshed everywhere, but it had become easier to walk through in the past few days. The entire base would be grounded if they didn't have to do a thrice daily sweep. "Dumitrescu, please quicken your step. We have guests arriving any second."

"Roger zat, Colonel." Dumitrescu tucked her helmet under her seat before sliding the door open. Hitting the ground, she grabbed her log books and proceeded to jog into base. Though the weather had slowed the rain, it did little to quell the freezing temperatures. Entering the large garage's back room, the woman tucked everything away into her locker before releasing the zipper that went to her waist. Shrugging off the tan flight suit off, she quickly tugged on the dark navy skirt over black hose. Sticking her hands through the cotton white shirt, the buttons were easily done up and she was aligning the tie. Pulling the wool jacket over her shirt and up-doing the four buttons, she slid into shoes and straightened her jacket. Running a brush through her hair, her Colonel's words got her thinking; they never had visitors. Who was it and what did they want?

Within moments, the young woman was knocking on the conference door, entering once she earned a response. Glancing around, there was no one she recognized besides Colonel Edward Samuels. Addressing him before he turned back to the company, Dumitrescu saluted those in front of her, the brim of her fingers lightly brushing the underside of her service hat. "Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to my second in command here at our little slice of isolation, Corporal Charlotte Dumitrescu of the United States Air Force, pending promotion to Technical Sergeant."

The promotion wasn't official and they still only did it to fill in for the KIA Tech Sergeant. The military only wanted a replacement until they could find someone more qualified. It really didn't matter to her how many times she was told otherwise; there is always someone knocking on your back door. Charlotte released her salute, her face still flushed a deep pink, before stepping forward to greet the man standing to her right. He wore a perfect suit, complete with a handkerchief. Hair slicked back, it was beginning to grey, but was still combed to that similar high standard. The man extended his hand and Charlotte took it without question, curious to know what the man wished of her. "Corporal, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am Elijah Shan, one of the overseers of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division for the U.S. Government. We were hoping to ask you a few questions about your future, and if you would be willing to consider recruitment after you complete your university studies."

A/N: This chapter has been re-upped, tweaked, editted and fixed, as of July 3rd, 2013.
There will be some Romanian in this story. Not much, trust me, but if it's in here, there will be a direct translation afterwards, or in the A/N. She does have a slight accent that improves over time.

Vreau să-l facă – Vraow sal fah-kuh – I want to do Mami – Mam - Mommy