So doing a little better than when I saw you all last time. A little, not a lot, but still better...sometimes.

Chapter 2: Where It All Begins

14th April, 20XX

You know, one would think that after having to put in nearly two nights of long, hard and sweaty work, the Universal Forces That Be would be more forgiving. To allow for those that wanted nothing more that to stay and sleep in a nice, comfortable and warm bed and not have to worry about being needed by anyone, or anything, for the rest of the day, to do just that. It sounded like a reasonable trade-off, does it not?

Nope, no such luck for me.

After getting home yesterday, it hadn't been that long since I sat on my couch to relax (or rather, to curl up and mope in my own misery) when the building manager knocked on my door, asking if I could do something about the lack of power and hot water in the building. Normally, that would be a job for a person with more qualifications in those areas...not to mention, actually legally qualified. However, I still remember the last person that turned up was...one butt-hole of epic proportions (the nicest insult anyone had to say), so the building manager never bothered with those people again. And why not, since one of his own tenants is kind of a whiz at this sort of thing?

Truthfully, I don't mind the work all that much; I found it therapeutic to work on the old units.

….And it's not as if I can say 'no' to him, either. I am a timid, softly-spoken 5'3'' dot of a young woman dealing with a 6'5'' behemoth of a Scotsman with a big voice, and bull-headed temperament...you can see who might win those arguments. I'm just grateful that all he ever does is grumble at me, and that he keeps me well clear of the 'not very legal' aftermath.

'Though I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.' My inner voice chuckled. Not that tempted, to be honest.

So that's how I found myself in the creepy basement of the building, prying open the metal protective cover and attempting to see what the problem was this time. You know, for a surprisingly empty basement, it felt like I was being watched...sort of. Like from a security camera, if that makes sense?

As for the root of the problem...oh, it was bad. The unit was literally a hair's breadth from killing itself, something the manager did not like hearing about one bit. However, with a few parts supplied from the manager (who never said where they came from, and I frankly don't plan on asking), some hard work and a bit of infamous Stark ingenuity, I worked a way for the building to get power until a completely new unit could replace it.

All of that took...well, I had lost track by that point. Hey, I zone out when I tinker, so no judging! Unfortunately, for my nose, I was smelling ripe by the time I had gotten to the hot water service...which I drew the line at, especially when I pried open the lid and saw the pack of rats. Not even the big, tough, scares-me-pieces-when-angry building manager was going to get me to touch that, not after the high-pitched shriek I gave, or after I slammed the lid back onto the tank with such a force that the entire thing shook. At least he was nice enough to not laugh out loud while I was still in earshot.

Since my work was more-or-less done after that, all I had left to do was the unenviable task of going through each room...in each apartment...on all eight floors...just to make sure that the power was working. Luckily, the manager had taken pity on me by that point and took over the rest of the work himself. He may be a big, burly man, who looks like he can break boulders with just a scowl, but sometimes he often surprises me with how kind he can be...when he was not yelling at another tenant, because they annoyed the absolute cheese out of him.

With a small sigh of relief, I trudged back into my apartment, happy that my work was done for the...ew, gross, it's been almost two days! It had just touched one a.m. when I finally crawled onto my bed. I had thought of a cold shower, but a near-violent shudder rippled through me when I recalled the multitude of tiny, beady eyes looking up at me. It doesn't matter to me one bit that the hot and cold water tanks were separate from each other (for some reason that I don't care to know about), but the image of what I saw quickly pulled me up short, even though I smelt less than pleasant.

It was probably a good thing that I had half a dozen of the big bottles of water, and that I had taken to brushing my teeth with bottled water...Yeah, let's...let's not go into reasons with that and move along. And since I couldn't be bothered cooking (not that I had anything to cook), that box of snack bars will have to do.

So with a quick hip bath and teeth cleaned, I changed into my pyjamas and slumped onto my bed...where I proceeded to toss and turn for the longest time, before finally getting into a comfortable position after almost four hours later. Just my luck that the traffic outside had well and truly picked up again.

Suffice to say that with no proper sleep, missed meals and no decent shower made for a very cranky and depressed Briar Rose. Adding to the already quite substantial latter, yesterday I came to the brutal reality that there was no such thing as my 'Prince Charming', so I was feeling even lower than usual. Especially when I was sleeping on a crappy—THWACK BONK! *sigh* Make that a crappy, broken bed that simultaneously lost all four legs...I gave up and just cried.

But when my phone pinged from my bedside table, and I saw the text message from a good friend that I hadn't seen or heard from in some time, my day seemed to get just that little brighter.

Guten Morgen, meine Liebe, are you well? I have some good news—I'll be on the Helicarrier for my usual check-in with Direktor Fury. Barring anything drastic appearing, shall we go somewhere and get a tea, or frappe, or whatever it is you normal people drink? Love, Alenka.

Since I needed some cheering up, some food and a cup of tea, a chat with my best friend was definitely in order...not to mention that she reminded me that I was due for my own check-in with the same man. As I climbed to my feet and got dressed for the day, a part of my mind reflected on the uniqueness of Alenka.

Alenka Grünes-Herz is a…interesting individual, and that was putting it mildly. She claims to be an average person, but anyone with eyes could see that a young lady of middle-age with fiery brown hair, blue eyes like a clear spring, and a figure that most people (men and woman alike) drooled over was anything but average. And don't be fooled by her age, either. She may appear to be of middle-age, but she claims (to both confusion and jealousy) that she's over a century old, or thereabouts...so she says.

She also claims to be from a parallel Earth, like the rest of her family. I have only ever briefly met her older brother so far, and I have so, so, SO many questions that my brain actually has to shut itself off before it gets overwhelmed. Alenka also says that it's her and her older brother's job to go about to various 'Earths' to protect them from...something. And since she works in very different ways compared to her brother, those two do their own thing.

I honestly have no freaking clue what she's on about—it's around about there that my brain shuts itself off from information overload. Which Alenka sees and decides to change the subject to something that doesn't cause me conniptions.

Other than her job, which she only tells me about with great obscurity (no complaints here) she really is a great person to know...providing you don't make her mad, of course. She is definitely the one person you do not want to cheese off!

Taking a cab (since there was no way I was going to ride in my current condition), I was back at the diner. If I ever had a need to get up to the Helicarrier for one reason or another, then chances are that there was someone willing to give me a lift, if I asked the right person in the right way...if I ever got brave enough to do so. Thankfully, there was no real need, since—

"Mornin', Miss Briar!" I barely got through the door when someone familiar called out my name. I looked around to see a familiar face waving at me: Agent Clay Quartermain was sitting at the bar with a wide smile and a plate of food at his elbow. My stomach gurgled in anticipation and longing, so I carefully crossed the room and sat beside him. Wordlessly and with a knowing twinkle in his smile, Clay nudged the plate of French toast towards me. I almost asked how he knew that I wanted food, but let's face it—he's a SHIELD agent, and they always know things.

Like Clint Barton, Clay was another close male friend of mine. Unlike Clint, however, Clay has known me for about five years. At first, I wasn't so sure about having him near me, and without Tony knowing his true identity (even to this day, he hasn't pegged that Clay Quartermain, the SHIELD agent and Clay Quartermain, the au pair are the same person) and was often very shy to talk to him, but he quickly and easily put me at ease with his Southern charm and friendly nature. Now, we're close enough that I could comfortably say he's like a brother to me...just with a lot more common sense than Tony.

Of course, there were times my cynical side crept up and snidely commented that the real—and probably the only—reason that Clay was even around was because I am a Stark, and that my deceased father asked SHIELD to watch over me. Otherwise, it pointed out that I was a bit of an inventor like Tony, which would make certain super-villain groups (AIM and HYDRA being the first that came to mind) very interested in making me a part of their ranks.

Then my shoulder angel/devil/butt-kicker would not-so-kindly push my cynicism out of the picture, dust off its hands, grab me by the earlobes and point out that while either reason might be true, at least Clay took the time and effort to get to know me and treat me like a real person. If it were anyone else, they would be an emotional as a rock, and would treat me as if I was just a dull assignment.

I guess it had a point; how many other secret government agents would stay up till 5 in the morning playing Monopoly with a then 14 year old girl going through one of the gross stages of her life, with a mount of chocolates imported right from Switzerland?

"Ya ready to head on out?" Clay asked once I had finished eating. Not even bothering to reply, I just nodded and waited for him to pay for not just the meal, but also for two take-away cups of hot drinks. I felt a faint smile appear when I realized that Clay remembered my favourite tea choice of apple and black current. Walking over to his side, Clay handed me one of the cups to get the door, and held it open to let me exit before him. Once the both of us had left the building, Clay stayed close enough to my side without triggering my heebie-jeebies (he'd offer his arm, like the true gentleman he was raised to be, but you know, reasons) and escorted me to a drop-point near the water-side, where a transport chopper would occasionally swing by to pick up anyone that needed to get to and from the Helicarrier.

When a chopper arrived and we were loaded onboard, I let my mind wander about until it came back to some thoughts from the previous nights. Ok, so maybe wishing for a Prince Charming was a bit of an unrealistic stretch, but was it really so wrong to wish for a decent guy? Maybe a guy that sort of like Clay? Of course, the subsequent downside is that whoever that man was, he'd need the patience of an ox, and be extremely understanding of the whole SHIELD/Iron Man/super-villain groups thing. And the same level of patience would be needed when dealing with me, since I've become so introverted and reclusive, it'd possibly take a nuclear-powered sledgehammer just to make even a dent in my protective shell.

'Once again, Briar Rose, you are heading down the wrong rabbit hole… or to a damn good thrashing. Personally, I'm inclined to give you the latter.' My inner voice warned, and almost violently pulled me back into the real world just as Clay was carefully guiding me onto the landing bay of the Helicarrier. I briefly marvelled at how I was able to function when part of my brain goes walking, but then focused on following Clay up through all the winding hallways and elevators until we arrived on to the bridge, where two very distinguished people in the middle of the expansion room were speaking to each other.

The man on the left was the infamous Director Nick Fury. A 6'2'' tall African-American man of extremely breath-taking intimidation with a secretive and deadly reputation. His ever-present and soul-searching scowl of disapproval (and his black eye-patch) really does nothing to help people feel at ease around him, even the ones who supposedly know him well. I sometimes wonder at how, in the entire world, I managed to have Nick Fury on my emergency contact list...but I stop myself from spending too much time and energy thinking about it, otherwise I'd end up with one heck of a migraine.

The young woman he was talking to, however, was a welcome sight. Alenka stood tall and proud, with her hair in a side French-braid style and down to her lower waist, and dressed in what she calls her 'work clothes'. I had to question (as did many others, and not for the first or last time) how a black halter top, dark wash skinny jeans and knee-high leather boots could be considered 'work clothes', especially when she has to fight somebody, but hey, to each their own...those pointy heels though. Yeesh! I could barely walk in something like those shoes, let alone whatever she does!

As if sensing our presence, even before Clay could call out a greeting, Alenka turned towards us, and gave me a warm smile. "There you are, Briar." She greeted kindly in her soft German-tinged accent. As soon as I was close enough, she reached out and placed a delicate boop to my nose, and carefully flickered her finger underneath my chin in greeting.

It always fascinated me with how gentle Alenka is with me, yet have the strength to tear apart something 50 times bigger and dangerous than her with bare hands. Darn super-strength.

Another side note, I find...not quite fascinating, but rather peculiar, is that whenever I stand near Alenka, I feel tingly. Not the 'Someone is invading my personal space! Run!' sort of tingling, but something...softer, and pleasant; like a gentle humming in my bones. The one time I mentioned it to Alenka, she theorized that maybe I could "feel" her aura, similar to empathy...yeah, I have no idea.

"I've missed you, meine Liebling." She spoke softly.

"I've missed you, too." I replied, "You look great."

"As do you." She said. It's probably have more meaning if her eyes weren't roving over my face, as if trying to see if I was hiding something. I tried not to grimace when her gaze landed on my shoulders—there was little doubt of me having a bad posture, or at least a back riddled with knots (and Loa above knows what else), but I was extremely reluctant to have anybody move out of my field of vision, let alone touch any part of my body.

Alenka made an offer once, and only once, to use her psionic powers to do the job, but I politely declined. It wouldn't even help if she stayed in my field of vision while her powers poked and prodded along my spine...stop judging me, dang it!

'I didn't say anything!' My inner voice protested.

Looking back at Alenka, I saw the slight smile she was trying to hide. I must have been projecting my thoughts again...oops! But rather than call me out on my questionable sanity—

'You know that she's not any better, right? The snoop.'

—she playfully stuck her tongue out at me, and giggled at my small squeak. "By the way, I brought you a gift." She announced, both of her hands reaching into the pockets of her jeans, searching for whatever it was she was looking for. Just how deep are those pockets?

Eventually, she found what she was after, and produced...something I wasn't expecting at all. It looked like a pair of thick wooden cuffs, made out of some sort of dark-stained material, and inlaid into both surfaces were swirling intertwined engravings of silver, gold and tiny little gems. The silver and gold engravings reminded me of Celtic knots, but a lot more complicated. Regardless, they were beautiful, and I told Alenka as sch.

"Just a little something from some Woodland fairies," She explained in a somewhat humble-brag way, "After I helped to stop a cantankerous fire bird from destroying their homes." For a moment, I had forgotten that Alenka can travel to different Earth's. One of them must be filled with magical creatures...I wonder if there was an Earth with good and bad magic?

Alenka carefully dropped the cuffs (for lack of a better term) and watched as I carefully put them on my wrists. I think I should be calling them bracers; they both nearly covered my entire forearms, but were surprisingly comfortable. I could flex and move my hands and arms without the wooden jewellery complicating the motions. Weirdly enough, once they were settled into place, I felt a slight tingle run up the length of my arms, into my chest and down my spine. Putting that out of my mind, I thanked Alenka again for such a beautiful gift.

"I knew you'd like them." She chuckled softly, "They came from a fallen branch of an ancient enchanted tree, deep within a magic forest. And aside from looking pretty, they have a few extra features, as you mortals say."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Think the word 'weapon'." She answered. I gave a little start of surprise and stared at her...but this is Alenka, right? She's never do something to hurt me. I thought the word, and in response the engravings glowed in a soft light, and turned into a liquid-like state. I gave a soft cry of alarm as the glowing nimbus flowed into the palms of my hands, and began to solidify into new shapes.

"They can turn into a weapon of your personal choice, like escrima batons." She explained once I calmed down, "There are quite a few enchanted knots and such in those cuffs. Among them is one that makes it so that they answer only to your energy signature, even if there's a stronger source of magic nearby."

As happy as I was about the gift, I winced visibly: Alenka told me a few horror stories about a person's magical object being 'hacked' by someone else, and it didn't have a good ending. Good thing Alenka thought to include this feature before she gifted it to me...huh. I wonder if that was the same deal with Excalibur, from Arthurian legends?

"More or less." Alenka answered plainly, causing me to squeak in fright. Once my attention was back where it should be, she quickly promised to tell me about it later, and got back onto the main topic. "Another feature is a 'Return To Me' spell-if you and your cuffs are ever separated, they will return on your thoughts."

'...'

Don't say anything.

'Kill joy.'

"What else can they do?" I asked Alenka, shoving the voice to the back of my mind for the time being.

"Not much else, besides what I mentioned, but these two-" She pointed a slim finger at two different looking knots on the batons "-mean 'sun' and 'moon'. They can draw power from each source, so if you're ever in a bad situation—Heaven forbid—your weapons can shoot out some sort of energy-based attacks."

"What sort of 'attacks' do you mean, exactly?" Fury suddenly inquired, which made me jump in fright with a rather loud squeak. I had been so caught up in my new present/jewellery/weapon/whichever, that I had completely forgotten that Fury and Clay had been standing nearby, watching us the entire time. At least Clay had the decency to give me an apologetic look, though I knew that I'd be given a verbal one soon enough. As for Fury, Alenka just gave him a playful side-wise glance, and a slightly mischievous smile. As far as I'm aware, she is the only person who can get away with sassing the director of SHIELD with all limbs intact.

"Not anything that you need to worry about," She teased him lightly before turning a tad more serious, "The inherent magic in the wood itself and in the knots will respond to whatever Briar needs: if she wants to stun her opponents, then that's all that will happen. If she requires something with a bit more oomph, it will happen too...except for killing. It will never take the life of another person, no matter how evil."

I was quite relieved when she said that-I was not one to take a life, unless I ever went down that rabbit hole. I was also stunned, because Alenka rarely—or rather NEVER—allows anyone outside of her own family to see an object from another dimension, let alone hold or own one.

"That's mighty kind of ya, Alenka." Clay complimented.

"Nothin' to it, sweet pea." She responded, copying his country twang with a cheeky smile, and a playful click of her tongue. Hearing his chuckle, Alenka returned her attention back onto me. "Now, then. I believe I promised you a drink, and a story or two?" I was ready to name my beverage of choice, or unleash an avalanche of questions, when the air surrounding us was filled with a disembodied chiming sound, and a rolled up scroll appeared from thin air before Alenka.

She gave it a curious look, she accepted the object and unrolled it, her eyes moving and she read its contents. I'm guessing it wasn't something good, if the deepening frown on her face was any clue. Remember when I said not to get her angry? Whelp, someone just did, and they were gonna get it now.

"For the love of—he just can't leave things alone!" She burst out halfway reading through the scroll. She glared at it for a few seconds longer before turning to me with an apologetic expression. "I'm so sorry, Briar. But something important has come up, and if I don't head it off, it could lead to war."

"Then you'd better get going. War should always be avoided, right?" I asked rhetorically. It took everything I had in me not to look at either Clay or Fury, since I know of a time that SHIELD did in fact cause a war-a minor one between drug lords years ago, but still. Alenka gave a silvery peal of soft laughter in response as she gave me a fist bump in farewell, and a cheeky two-finger anime salute to the two men. Then, as quick as blinking, she was gone.

For some reason...I always expect her to have a flashier exit and entry.

'Same here.' My inner voice agreed, sounding a little put-out about the lack of fireworks or something just as spectacular.

Clay soon took his own leave afterwards, his reasons being that he had a mountain of paperwork to sort through and file away, preferably before people started hunting for his head. I gave a half-smile, since I know that Clay abhorred paperwork in any shape, and had probably let it get huge…again. Once he left the bridge, it was just Director Fury and I to discuss things in semi-privacy.

Of course, now that Clay wasn't around to act as my buffer, I felt my nerves growing as Fury turned in such a way that I had still had his full attention, even though he appeared to be looking at the large screen before us, with a less-than-usual-steely expression to his face. He might turn down the force of his hardened expression when speaking to me, but I can still remember the last time I saw it in full-force. It wasn't all that pleasant to behold from the side-line, so it must have been even worse for the person taking the full effect...though that guy totally earned it.

"Is everything all right, Miss Stark?" He asked in a low tone, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"As it can be, I guess." I replied in a small voice. The escrima batons seemed to sense the change in me, and so returned to their dormant form, allowing my now free hands to tangle themselves together as I tried not to fidget in his intimidating presence. "I still feel like I can't th-thank you enough, for everything that-that you've done for me, Director Fury. I-I know-"

"Stop." He firmly interrupted, simply but effectively cutting me off. He was looking at me right in the eyes even as his hand reached out to cover my own, with just enough strength to stop my fingers from braiding themselves off. "It might not be something SHIELD does, but the repercussions would've been a lot worse if we had done nothing."

Well...when he put it like that, I had to agree-with some reluctance-that he was right. If what happened did not happen at all, and something worse was to happen...okay, bad rabbit hole, bad rabbit hole! If I start to remember what really happened, and all the 'what-if' scenarios begin, I may as well have myself committed to an asylum. Not to mention that I've managed to give myself the beginnings of a headache.

Sensing the need to change the subject post-haste, Fury withdrew his hand to rest behind his back, and then smoothly changed topics and began telling me about recent events around SHIELD (the ones he could safely and legally tell me, at least). The major even being the capture of some HYDRA grunts and the Grim Reaper, one of HYDRA's top officers and heavy-hitters; and the afterwards how Fury near single-handedly stopped Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker, the third leader of HYDRA, from escaping custody.

Hearing the details of the event did help to bring me away from the edge of the dark rabbit hole...and towards something I totally overlooked about Fury. His hair had changed, slightly. It was still the same short black and curly hair that I was familiar with, but the bottom half was now white.

Huh...I've always heard that Baron Strucker had a metal glove that could suck the soul out of the person it touches, but I never saw the results. Probably a good thing, then. If Fury only had a new hair colour added after a brief touch from the claw, then the results of a longer exposure would probably be gory.

'Put that man in a fancy suit, and hot damn.' My inner voice purred. Ex-ew-what?! NO! No, the man is totally off-limits! He's old enough to be my father! And we're not going that rabbit-hole, either, you depraved creature!

Ignoring that (mental images *shudders*), I was telling him about the make-shift job I did on my apartment building's electrical unit. Fury was very impressed with my efforts, even saying so out loud, but he still looked very unhappy about me still living in a place like that. He was about to start a lecture (not sure how long I could last with the pervert in my brain imagining Fury in a two-piece suit) when suddenly, all around us alarms began blaring in high-pitched wails, and a bright yellow light engulfed our visions. The light show didn't last long-only a few seconds-and the spots in my eyes taking a bit longer to fade away.

But by then, a whole new, and much bigger problem occurred.

Powerful shudders and ripples began to wrack every inch of the Helicarrier. Fury instinctively caught me when I nearly feel over, and nearly threw me against the nearest console. I barely had time to catch myself and grab an edge, even as Fury did the same-with me sandwiched between his body and the console to keep from getting tossed about. Everyone else on the bridge went into overdrive, trying to figure out what the heck just happened, with Fury bellowing orders at the top of his lungs just to be heard over the alarms.

'Crappy bed or not, I should've just stayed at home!' I told myself—my inner voice agreeing vigorously—as I kept a death grip on Fury's forearm while also trying not to scratch his arm off to escape his grip. Personal bubble space means diddlysquat when all of Tartarus just broke loose, and when someone is holding you to keep you alive and safe.

The alarms finally stopped (oh, my poor ears!) as I spotted Clay as he struggled to get over to Fury...have we, or has the Helicarrier tipped to a side? They discussed something for a brief moment before Fury gave an order, and loosened his grip enough to allow Clay to get a hold of me.

'Keeping me alive! They're keeping me alive!' I repeated to myself as my teeth ached from repressing my urges to scream and run away.

"Come on, we gotta move!" He barked, grabbing my hand and somehow pulling me from my death grip on Fury's arm, and dragged me away from the bridge.

"What's going on?!" I cried out, my teeth on edge and hurting from all the manhandling. I tried my best to keep up, but Clay has longer legs than I do. In hindsight, it served as a partial reminder that I really had to get into better shape. Clay didn't answer-he was too busy dodging other agents in his attempt to evacuate me to safety...only when we rounded the next corner, I found out what the current problem was...the bad way. Enter choice curse words here.

Let's side step away from the crisis at hand for a moment, shall we?

Did you ever wonder what happens to a super-villain after they've been defeated and captured by the authorities, or SHIELD, or some hero? Well, depending on the type of abilities they have, they would go to one of four of SHIELD's max-security prisons. If they were a technology-based villain, for example, they would be taken to The Vault, a prison designed by my brother and located somewhere in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. If they were radiation-based, they'd be taken to The Cube, far out in the Nevada Desert.

For those that are extremely bad and too dangerous for every other jail anyone in the world has—the sort that not even SHIELD take on lightly—they'd be inmates of The Raft, an undisclosed and super-duper-extremely-hush-hush classified place that I shouldn't even know about, yet somehow I do.

The last of the four super-max prisons was the The Big House. Don't let the seemingly innocent name fool you; it's the precious brainchild of one Doctor Hank Pym, aka the part-time and reluctant hero Ant-Man (and inventor of the Pym particles. I don't know all that much about them, other than it makes things shrink to ant-size). The Big House is where the regular, run-of-the-mill villains go, and the miniaturized building sat harmlessly on a table under guard by normal-sized SHIELD agents...but, uh...I'm guessing that all the alarms, shuddering and near-violent tipping was all the result of that particular prison falling catastrophically, and now all the inmates were free.

The part of the inmates being on the loose now was actually a no-brainer, since Clay and I were confronted by one such escapee named Anaconda-a member of the Serpent Society...YIPE!

I know that I must have given a yelp of fright when I saw her. This is where being friends with Alenka really came in handy! My newly acquired cuffs reacted instantaneously, blazing with light as a protective bubble formed around Clay and I, just in time for a series of 'oh, you've got to be fecking with me!' moments to occur in rapid succession. The first one was Anaconda attempting to punch a hole into the bubble, but it just sent us rocketing backwards.

The second was an explosion rocking the hallway we were currently inhabiting, causing a great big tear to open up in the wall behind us, leading to open sky. You can see where the third and most important problem is heading, right? And, for future reference? I absolutely hate free-falling with a red-hot burning passion.

I think at some point on the way down, my mind decided that now would be a good turn to switch itself off. The last thing I remember was a giant red something rushing towards us, followed by an amount of incredible pain, followed by disturbingly blissful nothingness.

Have you ever had the strange sensation of being tucked up in bed, all cosy and warm, dreaming a nice pleasant and peaceful dream, when out of nowhere your body jerks itself, and it completely wakes you up? Well, I had that happen, only instead of waking up in my crappy bedroom, I found myself in a hospital bed. Meaning my not-so-pleasant dream was actual a real event that did happen...great.

I lay on the not-at-all comfortable hospital bed, numbed by pain-killers as I was surrounded by my brother, Clay and Ant-Man, with Clay explaining how I ended up in my current state. "Then, after we fell out of the Helicarrier, your bubble stopped working. Luckily Ant-Man was right there to catch us." Clay told me, "After he put us down somewhere safe, he went off to do some fighting while I got you to safety."

"And yet, I still end up in hospital." I grumbled groggily, whimpering when a violent thud defied the pain-killers and pounded throughout my skull. As it happens, having a giant hand catch you, just as you've potentially reached terminal velocity, is going to leave a bruise or nine...and a concussion. How come Clay isn't showing any signs of pain?! Darn SHIELD agent training and conditioning. Au, my poor head.

"Hey, it could've been a lot worse, sis." Tony tried his best to put a positive spin on things, but it was a bit hard to appreciate it when my head feels like it's ready to explode into chunky salsa bits, even with the pain-killers currently being pumped into me. The conversation would have kept going, except that I was very sore and rather tired. A large yawn from me was the cue for them to start leaving. They did stick around when a doctor and nurse appeared to take notes on my vitals. Once I was checked over, I was given the all clear to sleep.

Everyone then left, and I was now by myself in a darkened room, pumped full of pain-killers and a throbbing head...although it's quite possible that there's a SHIELD agent hovering around nearby. As I settled in for a night's rest, I thought back onto the moment I conjured up the protective bubble. It was quite the relief to know that my reaction time was still pretty decent, even after all these years of doing not much...but that still left the hard fact that I really needed to get back into shape.

After all, passing out all the time can't be good for my health.

And another with no mistakes! I'm getting better at this.