I sat and listened for 3 hours as they explained details of the Battle of New York. How Loki, Thor's brother could take control of a person's will with his scepter. That a space artifact called the Tesseract was responsible for aliens and wormholes. That it seemed it wasn't the only alien artifact on Earth.
They explained that after SHIELD's demise Phil Coulson, who had been resurrected thanks to more alien DNA, had taken control and found out about Terrigen Crystals. How many opposing agencies wanted them and some people after being exposed to them could develop abilities. A shadow war had been happening all over the world for the discovery and possession of both the people and the crystals. That no one was sure how may had been activated out of 6. 6 that used to be in a crate that had been opened thanks to the fall of SHIELD.
Even more confusing was that, the crystals weren't the only artifacts able to give abilities, that Loki's scepter could manipulate the mind into revealing powers on their own. That maybe, alien artifacts weren't completely needed for powers to be revealed as was a possible case here in New York. People were making the headlines, heroes, superheroes were making headlines with their own abilities, costumes and names.
"No," I shook my head as they explained another Avenger was in fact an android, but good, not evil like Ultron.
"It's true," Wanda nodded, "Vision is alive and has his own conscious and life. He is wonderful and kind. True to the nature of any Avenger."
"And you think super powered humans are the future of mankind?" I asked Coulson.
"I believe that they are as normal as anyone, but dangerous if they don't know what they are capable of," Coulson nodded.
"I think you lost brain cells when they brought you back from Tahiti," I snorted.
Director Coulson didn't seem to be a bad man. Brushed back brown hair, serious and pale, I still couldn't find out why he was resurrected after Loki's stabbing. Truthfully he seemed like an everyman, not someone who hung out with gods, monsters and no longer human humans. There was no special power set or genius brain, just a man who worked really hard.
Maybe that was his superpower, I thought sarcastically, super hardworking goody man.
"Kay, I'd say you can leave if you'd like, but it's clear you could hurt someone if you don't now what you can do. I think that Wanda here can help you with that. You two share a talent it seems," Tony sighed.
"So it seems," I sighed sadly.
"It's ok," Wanda smiled at me, "At least you'll have a teacher. I had no one to show me anything."
"What's next?" I groaned as we made our way out of the lab, "Powers from radioactive acid? A super bug?"
We laughed at the absurdity of things and I made Avengers Tower my new home.
For over a month, I fell into a nice routine. Nice, not normal.
A few days after my freakout in Queens, Tony agreed to let me talk to my family, via a very realistic hologram program. I didn't divulge any trade secrets of SHIELD or the Avengers, nor of my new powers. I simply said I was suffering from stress and trauma. That here, I could see a doctor about my horrific run in with a killer robot. They agreed without hesitation and wished me the best of luck. They would send some personal affects from home to me.
It seemed that thanks to Tony's seemingly limitless wallet, not only was my car returned safely, but my freakout had been kept under wraps, aside from a few blogs that hardly anyone read or gave serious attention to, my not so secret explosion was safe.
I worked with Wanda typically, trying to control how to see energy as she did. I only glimpsed flashes however and nothing was ever concrete. She described the scene to me, how everyone was simply a light and by finding the nick in their mind, I could place my presence there, how I could control thoughts and dreams and control.
I could control nothing.
Even telekinesis, something easy according to her, was impossible for me. With a wave of her hand, a snap of her fingers she could lift, throw and destroy things with red tendrils of energy. I could make no sense of it and I could only throw white gold blasts from my fingertips if I was emotional. Anger, it seemed was the only emotion could tap into with ease and thus the only emotion tied to my powers.
I met Vision, his tall slender metal self and calming tone made me like him instantly. As for Rhodey, or War Machine and Sam Wilson aka Falcon, they were cool too. SHIELD and some of their gifted allies visited too. One of the more common visitors, Skye who could sense frequencies in objects tried helping me. Sadly no one with anything closer to my power set existed.
After a long day of research and testing in the lab, I spent my afternoons in the garage. Unable to leave the Tower, I could only shine the car and tinker with the settings. I longed for days of freedom and driving, but I knew I couldn't hurt anyone.
And so it was a month later I sat at the head of my car, taking apart the carburetor for fun. I liked to take it apart and see how it worked. It always fascinated me and with nothing more to do, it was all I had.
"Hey," Bruce called as he joined me, "car trouble?"
"Ha," I snorted, "I wish. At least I'd have something to do."
I spun the small nut back into place and turned the piece over to finish the right side.
"I know how you feel," Bruce said, "Being cooped up. I hated it too."
"Cooped up? If I remember you were offered. I'm being held prisoner."
"They make it sound like an offer, but I knew I didn't have a choice," He said.
"The other guy?" I asked, "He seems under control."
"Never," Bruce shook his head, "That's what they don't get. They all have control over their suits and hammers and speed. I don't."
"But you save people. You take down the baddies," I said.
"The other guy," Bruce sighed, "The Hulk is just a raging monster. I don't control him, I just aim him in a direction and let him loose."
"When he's done though?" I ask.
"It's like a car," He pointed to mine, "It's big, powerful, fast, you drive it, but it can hit one patch and spiral out of control right?"
"Theoretically," I shrugged, but I'm a good driver."
"My point," Bruce sighed, "The car runs on gas and oil and all the parts moving correctly. If it's not in sync or it runs out of fluid, it dies out. Same concept."
"You mean the Hulk is just a powerful muscle car that runs out of juice?"
"Pretty much, when he's done giving out the punches, when he's tired that's when I can change back."
"That's amazing," I sighed, "You're a passenger but also a driver in your own body."
"All the time, it's why I mediate. If I didn't I wouldn't have as much 'control' as you say I do now."
"Wanda suggested mediation," I sighed, "But it seems so pointless!"
"I think there's more to it. At least with you."
What do you mean?"
"What if you didn't just meditate to calm down, but take control?" He suggested.
"I don't get it," I shook my head, finishing the carburetor.
"You mediate by sitting, breathing and hoping to find the on switch to your powers right?" He asked as I turned to put the part back in the engine.
"Isn't that what you do?" I asked, taking my wrench over the block.
"I focus on memories that trigger my emotions and I control what level of emotion I feel," He explained, "You can focus on anger, but how mad? Mad that you got a B on your Chem exam or mad that someone just kidnapped a kid you knew? There's a lot to emotions."
"I didn't think of it like that," I said, working the carburetor back in place, "I just get frustrated that I can't get my powers to work and bam they work."
"That's the root," He said, "That's ironic."
"I got mad hen I thought Tony ruined my car," I grumbled, "I got angry when Tony told me all his firsts tests were pointless."
"Tony can annoy some people," Bruce commented, I snickered.
"Everyone either loves him or hates him."
"He's alright. Has a good heart. Not his fault we've had two global catastrophes."
"No," I smiled, shaking my hair out of my face," I suppose drunk flying is better then making WMDs."
"Think you can give him a chance? I mean be upset if you want, but he was the one that also brought you here and kept you alive," Bruce pointed out.
"I guess," I smiled, closing my hood.
"Care to join me for meditation?" He asked, I nodded.
Upstairs, a few floors above the garage, Bruce and I sat in a plain blue room with wood floors. He took a small pendulum and placed it between us.
"Focus on a specific memory of being happy, gauge how happy you are, then get upset, how upset are you? Then annoyed and then anger," He explained, "Find a connecting thread between each memory, then each emotion, you'll be able to find a running theme between them all."
"Are yous sure this will work?" I asked.
"It has for me," He shrugged.
"Ok," I nodded, closing my eyes.
I breathed in, casting away all my thoughts from the day like Wanda had taught me. I visualized an empty brain, one that was a blank slate and had nothing in it. I breathed again, hearing the tick of the pendulum over the now normal hum in my ears. I thought of everything that made me happy. Me waving a flag for my dad to race on the drag strip, going out to the movies with my sister to watch Step Up, picking out my Vega, getting accepted to CalU. I breathed again, hearing the beat of Bruce's heart across from me, in time with the pendulum.
Aside from all those memories, I focused on one, a simple one. Racing my scooter.
I felt happy and gleeful, speeding that small metal machine around. It was my first time being mobile on my own, before I had gotten a bike. I remember pushing off and just flying down the sidewalk, past all of the houses and kids, I could feel the wind and how it oushed against me.I remember, steppig back on the brake, how it squeaked in protest. It was almost like the scooter didn't want to stop either but go. Go on and on until it ran out of sidewalk and then on some more. I remember how I spent the whole afternoon, chasing the other kids who simply ran. I remember how I made my mom chase me down to bring me inside as dusk fell.
I grinned and I felt my heartbeat skip and fall in tune with the pendulum.
Following my memories of racing the scooter, I remembered pain when I fell, trying to spin around. I had sprained my ankle. From there I remembered anger that the doctor couldn't heal me instantly. Following anger I was sad, propped up on pillows as my friends raced outside on their scooters. From anger came joy again as I finally raced again 3 weeks later.
When I hit the peak of eery emotion, I discovered a skip in my heartbeat and how controlled I felt in sync with the pendulum.
After an hour of meditation, I felt the air changed as Bruce opened his eyes and put a hand around the pendulum.
"Time's up," He said, "How do you feel?"
"Great!" I grinned, "I never felt like that before."
"What was the connecting thread between your emotions?" He asked as we made our way out the room.
"Freedom, I think." I scrunched my eyebrows as I thought, "I was thinking about the first time I rode my scooter and how I sprained my ankle on it. Through the whole sitting around I hated the cooped up feeling in the house. Of being trapped. All I wanted was freedom and when I got it, well I was happy again."
"So what does that have to do with Tony?" Bruce asked.
"I think it's cause of my car. Not Tony."
"Explain."
"My car is my car, My way out, freedom. Having someone else take it, mess around with it, well it pissed me off because my way out wouldn't have been mine anymore."
"Doesn't explain the park," He pointed out.
"I don't know about that one," I grumbled, "but I'm sure there's a reason."
"Hey, you guys done with mediation?" Steve asked, coming around the corner.
"Ya," We nodded.
"Great, Kay I think you need to come with me. Coulson found something that might be of interest to you."
I shared a look with Banner who nodded and I followed Steve around the Tower, up to the main area.