From his vantage point, he could see everything. He could see the galaxies, he could see the time streams, he could see the parallel dimensions, he could see every single world that made up reality as they knew it.
It was one of the perks of living in a dimension that lived outside of everything else.
The "real world", its inhabitants called it. The world where there were no such thing as gods, no such thing as superpowers, no such thing as the nonsense that ruled most entertainment—comics, most importantly.
The dimension that stood alone.
From where he stood, he could see the one portal that tied the two worlds. It was one of the first portals to ever tie the Real World with another. The Real World was considered unreachable—for centuries it was believed to not have existed.
But it did. And now it had been accessed. . . .partially because of him, of course. Who else would have been able to send the Avengers, Earth's Mightiest Heroes, through time and space to reach this inaccessible dimension? (Well, yes, the mischievous prince helped, but he wasn't an important factor in this plan . . .he only thought he was).
And they had to be there, in the Real World, because then there would be absolutely no way that they could ever return. Nothing was connected to the Real World—not Bifrost, not magic, not even the most advanced science would be able to transport them back home.
And he knew it.
It was why he had suggested it to the Freedom in the first place; it was the only way that they'd ever be guaranteed success. The TV screen behind him that was once black suddenly came to life. The impatient face of a man dressed in a black suit, his eyes obscured by black shades, came into view in front of a pale blue background.
"So?" rushed the man, sounding extremely short tempered. "Have they arrived yet?" He took his time before replying, studying the endless stretch of galaxies and time streams that lay before his eyes. He took a deep breath. Sometimes humans could be very impractical and very unreasonable. Like the one he was forced to converse with now.
"The only one to arrive has been the super soldier," he said calmly. "And his whereabouts?" Ordered the man. "With an everyday girl," He answered plainly. "She is no one and she knows nothing of our plan." "Good." Huffed the man condescendingly. "See if you can keep it that way."
0o0o0
When I walked into the science lab, I could feel the tension in the air. It was never fun having to sit next to Erica Grey every day, but it was never excruciatingly painful either. I mean, it wasn't like she teased me on the regular. No, it was even worse. She just ignored me unless she absolutely had to say something to me. I didn't know which was worse. She'd just be chatting with her friends, who sat at other lab stations around the room.
Me? I didn't have any close friends that shared this period with me, so I was stuck sitting there like a friendless loser, focusing intently on my work, like a nerd. Okay, so I was a nerd, but I didn't like seeming like one around people like Erica Grey. But I guessed it didn't really count who was in the class with us—Erica was so popular, she knew almost everyone. And the people who she didn't know knew her. Or at least, they were desperate and they wanted to know her.
And she was so fake that she pretended to be friends with them.
I knew today was going to be different, though. I had Steve with me now. I didn't know how Erica was going to react to him, especially since he was as handsome as he was (pretend I didn't just say that). And it wasn't like I could chick-block if she started flirting with him. He was supposed to be my cousin, not my crush. I didn't want to come across as weird. Incest is only cool when it's Thor and Loki.
And even then, technically, it's not incest. ;-)
I led Steve into the science lab, maneuvering quickly to my station. Surprisingly, Erica was already there. She couldn't see me yet because her back was to the door, but I could see her. She looked like her normal self—name brand purse, too-tight uniform, dark glossy hair spilling out in waves across her shoulders, glasses polished, pristine and perfect. She was grinning and talking to some dude a few stations down from us.
I didn't usually speak to her first, but I figured that today was an exception. "Erica," I said when we were behind her. She whipped around, smacking me in the face with her hair. She grinned, giggling cutely. "Oops!" she cooed. "Oh, sorry O—" she stopped short, her eyes traveling up to Steve's face. "This is my cousin, Steve Wilde. Steve, this is. . ." I was about to say "my friend", but I was becoming enough of a liar.
"Erica Grey," I said plainly. Their blue eyes locked, and I thought I felt some kind of electrical current buzz and cackle through the air. Oh. SHIT. My mind screamed. Steve smiled politely at her, and Erica smirked coyly, batting her eyelashes. Shit, shit, shit, shitty shit shit. I cursed over and over, but kept a nonchalant look on my face. Erica shook his hand, cooing; "Hi Steve." "Nice to meet you," he said, thankfully sounding nothing but friendly.
But I couldn't say the same for Erica.
She tried to work, I'll give her that. She tried to listen to the teacher and jot down notes in her notebook and all. But I think she was too busy flipping her hair, pursing her lips, batting her eyelashes and staring at Steve to get any real work done. It was bad enough that I had to sit in-between the two of them, and occasionally I'd get a lock of Erica's hair smacking me in the face.
It was not fun.
Steve though, seemed oblivious to Erica's poor attempts at flirting. He was more amazed with all the high tech technology that adorned the science lab. He kept asking me; "What's that? What's it do?" And when I told him, he'd go "Ohhh. . .okay." I thought it was hilariously cute, and I couldn't help but grin when he did it.
"So, Steve," Erica called, her voice suddenly rising a few octaves in a way I guessed was supposed to be cute. "Where are you from?" I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn't want it to be at the same time he did, because we'd probably have two completely different answers. "Virginia," he answered quickly and calmly. "I'm visiting for a while." I'm glad I didn't say anything, because I would have said Canada. Then we would have had a huge mix up. Erica nodded with a polite smile. "I can tell," she said, pursing her glossed lips. "You're so tan."
I couldn't help it. I scrunched up my face at her, and in my peripheral vision I could see the stunned look on Steve's face. "Eew." I scoffed at her. Suddenly the brightness in Erica's eyes faded and her smile disappeared. She gave me an emotionless look, but I could see the anger burning behind her blue eyes. She grinned back at Steve though, batting her eyelashes again. "How long are you staying for?" she asked.
"Not long," he and I chorused, but while Steve sounded nonchalant I sounded annoyed. Maybe because I was. I suddenly heard my teacher snapping his fingers at the front of the room. Erica, Steve and I all snapped our heads forwards. "Hey, Three Musketeers," he called. "Get back to work." "Yes sir," Erica and Steve chorused, sounding like total goody-two-shoes, while I delivered a; "Uh-huh."
That ended Erica's flirting. . .for the moment.
As soon as the bell rang, Erica jumped to her feet. I braced myself for another flirting round, but Erica seemed to notice something. Steve had been carrying my books since I had gotten them out of the locker (old school chivalry, I guess), and I didn't think much of it when he picked up my books from the desk. But Erica did. Her jaw clenched and her grip on her expensive pink purse tightened until her knuckles were white. I couldn't help but send her a little grin.
She didn't even look my way; instead, she flashed on the flirt and started grinning at Steve, flipping her hair. "So—" she was interrupted by two of her flunkies storming into the science lab. It was Jenna and Violet, and they caused quite a stir, despite the fact that the looks on their faces were anything but friendly. People still said hello to them, asked why hadn't they texted them lately, asked if they were coming to their parties, etc.
The two girls ignored all the attention and headed straight for Erica. . .and, simultaneously, Steve and I. "We've got big news, Erica," Violet said, an urgent look on her face. Jenna, forever and airhead, nodded enthusiastically, reminding me of a bobble head. I wondered how someone as smart as Erica got along with someone as dumb as Jenna. "Uh-huh!" she said. "Wait 'till you hear it, it is like so, so, so major."
Violet and Jenna couldn't be more different. If Erica was the leader of her crew and Savannah was the backstabbing bitch, then Jenna was the dumb one and Violet was the sort of tomboyish one. Violet was Jonesy's best competitor and worst enemy when it came to sports. She played everything that Jonesy played, but arguably better.
She had chocolate brown skin and dark brown eyes a few shades darker than her hair, which she always kept in micro braids. She was tall and fit from all the sports, just like Jonesy. Unlike Jonesy, she always wore enough makeup so she looked flawless. Jenna had the prettiest face but least striking figure out of all of them. Her red hair was pin straight and so long it reached her waist, there were a few freckles going across her nose and her green eyes were wide and innocent.
Erica gasped at her friends. "Guys!" she said in a voice that was so obviously fake. "How could you be so rude to our friends?" Violet and Jenna exchanged confused looks. Friends? They always acted like that to everyone, pretending they weren't there and ignoring them, even if they were only a foot away from them. . .which Steve and I were right now.
Erica gestured to Steve. "Guys, this is Olivia's cousin, Steve," the emphasis she put on the words were obviously to alert her friends that he was special. She may as well just put a blinking neon sign above his head that read Soon-to-be Property of Erica Grey. Jenna broke out into an idiotic grin. Violet at least had a bit more decorum, only smiling slightly. "Hi Steve!" Jenna said. "I'm Jenna and this is Violet, we're Erica's BFFs!"
"Best friends," I whispered to him. "It's text talk." "Thanks," he whispered back. "I wondered why she referred to herself as a letter." I could barely hold back my giggle from that comment. Before Steve could say anything to Erica's two BFFs, she started talking again. But this time it was directed at me. The fake niceness was still apparent in her voice. "So! Olivia! Are you going to the Rivera twins' party next weekend? OMG, you like, have to go, it'll be amazing."
I opened my mouth to speak, probably to say something along the lines of; "No, I don't do parties. . .and why do you even care?" But Erica just kept on blabbing. "You know what? You should bring Steve. Y'know, let him meet some people that go to our school, make some friends, have fun, let loose. . .!" I think my face looked a little something like this at that point: :-|
Really though, I was tired of her.
"Erica, I don't think I'll be going," I said quickly. "Yeah, I don't really like parties all that much," Steve declined softly. "Sorry." Disappointment crossed Erica's face. "See?" I said. "No party. Anyway, I better move before we're late for lunch. Bye-bye!" I grabbed ahold of Steve's arm and pulled him out of the room, moving down the hallway at lightning speed.
"God that was excoriatingly painful. . ." I murmured as I dodged and weaved other people who were rushing to get from class to class. Steve did a good job of keeping up, and I wasn't surprised. Soon he was walking in stride with me, side by side. "You don't like her?" he asked in confusion. "No!" I shrieked. "I mean, the Erica Grey you saw isn't the real Erica Grey. That's not how she usually is, how she really acts. She's horrible usually. She's just. . ." I shuddered, but I figured Steve had a right to know. "She likes you, and she's probably thinking about trying to ask you out or something."
The shock on Steve's face was just priceless. "What?!" he asked, taken aback. "Me?" I shrugged. "I guess," I said, and then realizing that it sounded kind of mean. Damn. I hate when I do that. "I just thought she was a nice girl. . ." Steve murmured. "But, Olivia, do you know who she looks a bit like?" I scrunched up my face again, not sure that I should be answering that question. "Whoooooo. . .?" I asked cautiously.
His eyes glazed over and his expression softened in reminiscence. When he spoke, I could barely hear his voice above the noise; "Peggy." I balled my fists at my sides, stomping my feet as I walked and shaking my head. "Aw, naw, c'mon man not HER!" I whined. "Why her?" "I don't know, she just—" "HABLAHBLAH I DON'T WANNA TALK ABOUT THIS ANYMORE." I said quickly, throwing my arms into the air and quickening my pace.
Steve had fallen behind me in the crowd, but I didn't care. "Olivia!" he called after me, but I just kept walking. "Olivia!" I did my best to blend in with the crowd, to duck down low and stay hidden. I really just wanted to be away from him right now. Out of all the girls that could remind him of Peggy, he picks Erica frigging Grey. I would have been fine if he would have said Emmy! Or, hell, Anna! Why Erica?!
Actually, now that I thought about it, as I started down the staircase to get to my locker, I would. I would have minded and I wouldn't have been fine. Why did anyone in this whole damn world have to remind him of Peggy at all?! She was dead and gone, done deal. Why couldn't he just get over her and move on with his life? Stop it, Said my brain. You're being mean, horrible and irrational. You know it's not like that.
"But that's what it seems like," I grumbled under my breath. Thankfully, Yvonne wasn't at her locker when I got to mine. Good. I didn't want to be bothered with anyone right about now; not her, not Steve, not Jonesy, not Emmy and especially not Erica Grey and her little flunkies. It was when I was putting in my combination that I realized Steve had my books. So what? I thought angrily. I don't care.
"I think you might be needing these," Said a familiar voice behind me. I turned around, surprised as hell to find Steve standing there, holding my books out towards me. I took them, frowning at him suspiciously. "How'd you find me?" I asked. "And don't say that you figured out the layout of this school that quickly." A small smile came to his face as he shook his head. "No, no, I never lost you in the first place," he explained.
"I just hung back. You seemed like you needed to let off some steam," he paused and silence fell. I didn't know what to say to that. I wasn't good in situations like these. All I could do was sigh and turn back towards my locker. I mean, here I am acting like an angry whiny baby, and Steve's being Mr. Perfect Considerate Guy. Once I got my books and put in my combination again, I turned to look at him. "Can I ask what was wrong in the first place?" he asked tentatively, a troubled and pensive look on his face.
I took a deep breath. "No," I said, finality in my voice. "Now c'mon, we gotta get to lunch."
0o0o0
The only one who hadn't met Steve at our table was Izzy. I knew the two of them would get along famously because they were both interested in art. I was just afraid that Steve wouldn't like Izzy because of her appearance; she was punk rock all the way; fishnets, black leather, flashy makeup and spikey red hair. But apparently, their love for art overthrew anything else.
Before I knew it, the two of them were deep in conversation about paint. It bored the hell out of me, so I stopped listening and just started chowing down on my piece of pizza. Jonesy and Emmy were already having their own conversation and Anna didn't seem to want to talk to anyone, as usual.
Aaron, who sat to my left, leaned towards me. "So," he whispered, literally in my ear. "What's the deal with American Apple Pie over here?" I paused, the slice of pizza already poised in my mouth, and looked at him. "Steve?" I asked before biting down. He nodded, a suspicious eyebrow arched into the air. "He's not really your cousin, is he?"
I nearly choked. "What?" I asked, pretended to be shocked, my voice coming out shrill. "Aaron, what are you—" "Face it Liv, I know you too well, we've been friends since third grade," he interrupted coolly. "Who is this guy? Who is he really?" I stared at my pizza on my plate. Should I tell him? Could I tell him? No, I figured. The less people who knew the truth, the better. "He is my cousin," I insisted, but my gaze was on my plate and not at him. "And if you can't see that, well, yooooou've got a problem. A problem that is not my problem."
Aaron frowned at me, but I refused to converse with him further. I turned to Izzy and Steve. "So, what's this about blending colors?" I asked. Both of them frowned at me, and I figured that they had long since moved on from talking about blending colors. I played it innocent, still chowing down on my pizza. "What?" I asked with a mouth full of food. "Why'a lookin' at me like that?"
Izzy and Steve took turns explaining the best way to do. . .something, I forgot, and I only pretended to listen so I wouldn't have to deal with Aaron anymore. I said "Oh, okay", and "Well that makes sense," and "uh-huh", all during the right places, so they really did think I was listening.
I couldn't help but wonder if Aaron was going to stay quiet about this though.
0o0o0
It had started to rain, just like the forecast said. The wind was blowing something fierce and the lightning and thunder was unrelenting. It was like hell out there. I was happy and angry that we were inside school; happy because I was, for now, safe from the elements, and angry because soon I would have to be out inside of it. After school, both Steve and I were tip-of-your-toes excited and nervous. He, being the gentleman he is, held the umbrella for me and most of my books.
We rocketed outside with the rest of the screaming school population, hurrying to get to the bus stop. "Exactly what time was it that you were standing there!?" Steve had to yell above the sounds of the storm and the other students. "I don't know!" I screamed back. "I just hope we're right about this!" "OLIVIA!" I voice screamed. I searched the crowd, trying to see the screamer. "OLIVIA!" I hated when this happened, I could never see who was calling me!
I finally noticed Aaron standing beside his car, waving towards me. Oh shit. "Need a ride?!" he was yelling. I shook my head, screaming at the top of my lungs—standing on my tip-toes for extra effect—"WE'RE TAKING THE BUS!" He seemed to say something else, but between the crowd and the storm, I couldn't really hear him. So I shrugged helplessly and hurried Steve down the sidewalk.
We reached the bus stop pretty quickly. But despite this, Steve and I were both still soaking wet. My hair was starting to frizz up, and Steve's was sticking to his head messily. The rain came down like a torrent, making it look almost foggy outside. I managed to convince Steve to hide in the bushes, that way we wouldn't get too wet.
So there we were, standing side by side in the middle of a dangerous forest, waiting for the funnel cloud to come down. The only sound between us was the sound of our breathing; me, being the unfit girl I was, I was completely out of breath. Steve was fine. I hated him for that.
I felt like I should say something. Partially because I hated silence, and partially because I thought I ought to explain my earlier anger to him. He had a right to know, didn't he? No, I told myself. Not about that, he doesn't. I didn't completely understand it myself, so how could I expect to explain it to him? I just sighed, running a hand through my frizzing hair.
"I hope we're right," I murmured. "I hope I'm right about the time. What if I'm not?" I sighed again. My heart was beating a mile a minute in my chest, like it was just trying to make me feel uncomfortable. "Don't worry," Steve said absentmindedly. He seemed more intent on studying the sky. "You are. I know you are." I was smiling before I knew it. I looked over at him, but he didn't even bother glancing at me.
I sat down in the dirt, probably a very un-ladylike thing to do, but I didn't care—my legs were tired. I didn't have a very good view of the field from down here, bushes and greenery were in my way—but I could see the sky. I swatted away a couple bugs, hoping I wouldn't spot any spiders. "Gah," I murmured angrily. "I hate nature. . ."
I don't know how long we were sitting there, watching, waiting, being completely and utterly bored. I drifted off, thinking about a million other things, daydreaming until my mind was placed in some far off space. Eventually, Steve shook me by the shoulder. "Olivia!" he said urgently. "Get up, c'mon, it's forming." With a gasp, I looked to the sky. My heart suddenly became a gymnast and started doing flips and jumping jacks when I saw the funnel cloud.
"Holy. . ." my voice trailed off. I let Steve pull me to my feet as the ghastly grey clouds swirled towards the ground, looking like a menacingly huge tornado. I brushed the dirt off of my skirt and, with Steve's help, stepped out of the forest. We dashed across the street with him in the lead, holding my hand tightly to make sure I kept up with him. I was thankful that, this time, my hand did not get sweaty. I was too focused on the funnel cloud to worry about Steve holding my hand.
We trudged through the high, dead grass, the mud squishing under our shoes as we ran. Over our heads, thunder rumbled. Lightning struck, and I whipped my head around to see the funnel cloud. A silhouette was falling towards the ground, just like it had before, twisting and hurling through the air like a ragdoll. It was just like last time; except, last time, I had been running the opposite way.
"Hurry!" Steve rushed. Hurrying! I replied sarcastically in my head. We were running as fast as we could, the wind whipping through my hair and the rain soaking us. The thunder continued to rumble, and suddenly I was very worried about getting struck by lightning. After all, we were running in the middle of a field. Thor, I know you're out there, I prayed silently. Now please, please, PLEASE don't let us get struck by lightning!
Then we heard a boom.
Whatever slash whoever it was, had fallen. And they hit the ground—hard. The earth seemed to shake, the sound of the fall being even louder than the thunder itself. Steve started running even quicker, and we were nearing the funnel cloud, which—from where I stood, or rather ran—seemed to be as tall at the Statue of Liberty. It had to be, it connected the ground and the sky.
The closer we got to it, the more the funnel cloud dissipated. The grey clouds lost their color, fading out until they could no longer be seen. When we reached the spot, the funnel cloud was gone. All that was left was the raging storm and the person it had dropped from the sky.
I gasped when I saw who it was. Steve and I paused, only a few yards away from them, staring. They were standing, but barely. They stumbled, obviously a bit dazed from the fall. I guessed flying from one dimension to another and then falling from the sky would do that to you. Despite the fact that they were much younger, I recognized the dark, wavy hair that now reached their shoulders. I recognized the smoldering dark eyes, the flawless skin, and—duh—the gold and red iron armor that adorned their body.
Tony Stark looked back between Steve and I. He seemed to recognize Steve, but me? He frowned, squinted and pointed at me. He was trying to place my face, like he knew me, which I knew he did not. "Tony. . .?" Steve asked quietly, but I don't think Tony heard him. "Weird girl with frizzy hair. . ." he murmured, seeming dazed, before turning his finger to Steve. "And. . .sixteen-year-old Capsicle. What the hell." He snapped his finger, an odd sound since he was wearing the Iron Man suit. It sounded like harsh, clinking metal. "Ah, I know what happened. . ." My jaw dropped as his dark eyes slowly rolled towards the back of his head. "Clint spiked my tequila. . ." he muttered, right before he collapsed to the ground.
At first I didn't know what to say. But finally, after a long few moments of silence, some very intelligent words came to my brain. "What the hell was that?!"
(A/N: Didn't this story just suddenly get 110x better?! :D)