𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗.
Charlie Stark-Rogers has grown up in the shadow of the world's greatest heroes. But spending your entire life in the face of danger takes its toll on anyone. She has secrets, thi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋.
It smelled like hot fusing metal in her Dad's lab; the scent of rust and engine fuel. The familiar papery scent of blueprints laying all over the countertops and the sound of hammers pounding into the night; the very things that used to rock her to sleep when she was little. It smelled like the Captain America helmet Pops used to let her wear when she was little, laughing as it fell over her eyes. It was a smell that was familiar and nostalgic, something she hadn't realized she loved until she had spent time away from it.
It smelled like a lot of things.
It might have been coming from the hot, damp walls of the cave, or the rusted bars of the tiny cell she was locked behind. It could have been the room her father was being held captive in, just down the hall. It could have been what she was certain was a dead rat in the corner of the room. It could have even been her.
Her long dark hair was greasy from not showering for so many days, and the strands plastered her face and her scalp. Her skin was sticky and her lips were chapped and bleeding, the humidity making her want to claw off her leggings and the red Stark Industries shirt stuck to her back. She wanted to shave her head and remove the extra weight of her oily hair. She wanted her Dad to be here holding her hand and promising he was going to keep her safe, running his thumb across the back of her hand as he stared down the soldiers keeping them captive.
But mostly, she just wanted to go home.
"Hello?" she called, her voice panicked. She sounded young; a lot younger than thirteen. "Dad? Pops? Clint?"
There were voices from somewhere just outside her cell and she pressed her face against it, trembling fingers grasping the cold metal of the bars trapping her inside. She craned to her neck to try to see who was speaking, but she had a horrifying feeling that she already knew.
The voices went silent for a moment and she strained to see just a little bit more than the cave wall in front of her. The dim orangish lighting made it feel like she was in one of the sci-fi movies Tony loved. "Hello? Anyone?"
Suddenly a large face with a bushy beard and missing teeth pressed itself up against the bars, sour breath making her gag. "MARHBA!"
Charlie screamed and scrambled backwards, her tennis shoes squeaking against the floor as she pushed away from the man. She lost her balance, slipping on the damp, slimy ground. She heard him laugh from the other side of the bars, loud and crackly.
