Aurelia Stark, the girl with everything. Only daughter of billionaire, Tony Stark, she has anything a girl could of ever wish for. But when her father goes missing in the Afghanistan desert, the cracks in her seemingly perfect life start to show.
Wh...
Brooklyn saw me, empty at the news There's no water inside this swimming pool Almost over, had enough from you -Ever Since New York, Harry Styles
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June 4th 2010 S.H.I.E.LD Headquarters, New York
"You sure you're ready to get back in the field?" Hill asked.
"Always." Aria declared, her eyes fixed on the clinically white door before her, "Too late to turn back now..."
Two days had passed since the expo. Two days since her blood had run purple. One day since she woke up and was told she'd been in a coma for a day. A coma.
It was not a coma. It was something else. Something glorious. Something horrible.
She hadn't told anyone that though. She hadn't wanted to be sent to a psych ward, or worse, confront the fact that she might belong in one.
So, she'd been attacked by the drones, hit her head, and... coma. The story went something like that.
She didn't know what had happened at the expo: maybe she'd imagined it all. That's what she'd chosen to believe.
Aurelia Stark. Her life was an open book, everyone knew her: spoiled, rich, pretty, would never have to work a day in her life. What more was there to know?
Well, she'd been thinking lately that even she wasn't sure, maybe she didn't even know everything about herself.
But working, getting back into the field, that was a good distraction from her existential conundrum. And Fury's newest mission for her, well, that was a greater distraction than she could've even dreamt up.
She smoothed down her blouse, her hand resting on her stomach as she inhaled slowly through her nose. She clicked her patent shoes together incessantly, as though trying to escape Oz. The uniform she wore itched, a tight 40s nurse's outfit- must've been impractical for actually working.
"Okay, counting down to consciousness in ten..."
A voice sounded in her ear.
"...nine..."
She swallowed hard.
"...eight..."
There were easier forms of escapism.
"...seven..."
That man in there... he could kill her, with his bare hands.
"...six..."
She could turn around now. Nobody could force her into that room.
