Time to shine

The Start

I often wished the world was quiet. That people couldn't make a sound anymore, and that car engines were silent as they sported through the cities. Because when the world was quiet, they could understand true pain. The quiet pain, that people hide. The suffering in silence. Screaming without being heard. These thoughts shouldn't play in my head for so many reasons. It isn't normal for a nine year old. But I was never normal. No, I was born special. I was born with abilities far beyond human comprehension. And perhaps as a funny joke of life itself, I was send to the Marvel Universe. Specifically, an alley about two blocks of the Avengers tower. I was four when I came here with Algebra. That is the name of a doll. My doll. I had an IQ little above Anthony Stark's, the ability of Telekenisis and Levitation, and control over the four elements water, earth, air and fire. I have an eidetic memory ever since I got here. I can remember every touch, taste, smell and sight. Every single detail. But my life before here is nonexistent, I accepted that a long time ago. Those memories were lost. It is my job to connect these details.

I named myself, in case you were wondering. Catalina after the flower and Moon because it was a full moon when I arrived. Pup, is a nickname. Given to me by the people who encountered me. I am fairly sure it is because I still always carry Algebra with me. What can I say? Even a genius can get sentimental. For the past five years, I have been looking at this tower here. Studying it. Envying it. And today, I did my calculations of a chance of getting in to meet Anthony Edward Stark of Stark Industries. Iron Man. I have a 42% chance of succes. That is not good enough. But my chances of seeing him at a bar, would be 84%. Considering that he broke up with Pepper Potts recently, he would go to a bar nearby to make sure he wouldn't stumble upon her. She avoided the tower like it was a disease. Which, I suppose, it was to her. I was going to take my chances, seeing as my calculations are usually very accurate. I was small for my age, thin as a stick. I wore boy shorts that needed some serious replacement. A long sleeved shirt with cuts and torns in it. Dirt all over. And finally, a beanie over my long, brown hair. It resembles a rats nest fairly well.

I took Algebra in my arms and held her to my chest as I stumbled to my feet. "Today we will meet him, Algebra. Be it one way or another." I told the doll. I found my words reasonable. I had been observing and waiting for five years. I have been patient for long enough. That and the percentage of an actual encounter has never been this high. I had an apathic look on my filth covered face as my small legs started their wobbly trek to a nearby bar. I am capable of emotions, don't get me wrong. But the people who look at me here, haven't done anything to deserve any of my emotions. My sharp green eyes were flickering around me as I soaked up every detail like a sponge. I barely left my alley. It is tiring to process all this information around me, and to silence everyones thoughts. If I wouldn't, the world would overwhelm me, possibly end me. But I can handle it for some time. I had a good feeling about today. I stood infront of the bar. It was perfect for Tony. He could mingle right in. I sat on the sidewalk a little ways from it, Algebra in my lap. Yes, I was sure. Today I would meet my hopefully future-mentor.

I wasn't sure what I would ask him, or say to him. I understand the idiocy of seeing a nine year old, battered girl walk up to you and start a discussion about higher physics; Giving improving pointers on the Iron Man suit. I mean, that'd be normal for me. But not to him. I rested my right hand on Algebra's head, almost motherly stroking across it. I had to convince him. Returning to my alley and thus empty existence, is not an option. I had counted the seconds that passed, in my head. 4087 seconds had passed before a black Jaguar rolled into the street. Sixty eight minutes and seven seconds. I recognised the car without an effort. Anthony Stark used this as his 'undercover' car, because it was his 'cheapest' one. In my opinion, he should of bought a Peugeot or something. A stationcar, perhaps. This black beauty stuck out like a sore thumb. And as I calculated correctly, the billionaire himself stepped out of the car. His goatee trimmed into perfection, his dark eyes covered with shaded sunglasses. A casual, or so he thinks, black blouse. Washed jeans and black dress shoes. Yes, Mr Stark stuck out like a sore thumb as well.