Good Morning, Sunshine

Opening my eyes

~
If you want to wake up you just have to open your eyes.
~
"Wait? So you don't know who I am?" , I inquired.

That seemed to be our only similarity here. He didn't have a clue and neither did I.

Stark shrugged, then he grinned. It was a honest grin this time. There were wrinkles around his eyes as he grinned and his eyes shone with a mischievous determination. There was a promise hidden in his smile and it wasn't one I'd enjoy.

"You might be good at covering up your tracks and at erasing your past from everyone's memory but rest assured, I'll find out who you are and where you came from and then I'll send you straight back to hell. Because I am rather sure that that's where your origin lies." , promised Stark and there was a danger in his voice that made me want to jump out of a window before he could throw me out of it himself.

The thing was, that I hadn't erased anything, hadn't made anyone forget anything. And if I had then I had been thorough enough to erase my very own memories. I tended not to be that thorough but apparently I wasn't myself.

But the problem here was that Stark didn't know who I was because I didn't know either.

I knew who I had been though and that was all I had to offer. Maybe, somehow, by some strange miracle, I was still myself. What was there to lose by telling him the truth.

"Okay, listen, Mister Stark or whoever you are. My name is Amelie, I am 23 years old and I do not have a clue how I ended up here.

All I know is that my cat was about to vomit on the carpet. Back in my little house in Germany. Where I live. Or lived as it appears that this is not the world I am used to.

Anyway, I raced to lift my cat off the carpet because it's easier to clean up thrown up when it's on the floor. On my way there I tripped, I fell and I must have hit my head. Hard. I fainted or something. I don't know. I don't remember.

I woke up here. In a country I shouldn't be in, in a bed that shouldn't exist. With a fictional computer talking to me. Which shouldn't be possible. And then another fictional character showed up and told me that I was a bad guy and had to be tied up because I apparently tried to blow up a nuclear power station.

All of this is impossible. It can not be true. You are not real. You are made up. You can not be here.

All in all I am as clueless as you are. Am I still Amelie? Am I someone else now?

Most importantly: Did I leave my world behind?"

That had been a lot of words and it had taken an impressive amount of energy to speak them.

Stark seemed to be overwhelmed by the mass of words thrown at him, but he soon managed to cover his bewilderment.

"What do you mean by 'you are a fictional character'? Are you talking about me? Because I dare say that I am very real" , protested Stark and there was a sharp edge to his words.

"But that's the problem here. You are not real in my world. You are Anthony Edward Stark. You are Iron man. You are a superhero. You are what my world always longs for but never gets. You are an icon. Everyone was heartbroken when you died in Endgame. There are three movies only about you. The AVENGERS movies feature you too. You are loved and hated. There are tons of comic books about you. Cartoons. Everything. But. You. Are. Fictional. You aren't real" , I exclaimed.