Stark's Perfectly Normal Daughter (S.P.N.D. Book 1)

Chapter 8: Testing the Suit

***|Tuesday, June 22nd, 2008|***

My wings press firmly into my back as I sprint across the driveway. The soles of my black combat boots slap against the edge and I leap into nothingness. My heart plunges into my stomach and for a second, I forget to breathe. Before the sensation of falling can take me, my ebony wings unfurl, their dark feathers blending into the night. Above the house, I drink in the light salty air as I take in the sprawling lights of Malibu. I scan over the span of lights, the Santa Monica ferris wheel flickering faintly in the distance.

"Where did he go?" I mutter, straining my eyes over the dark ocean.

After a moment I spot my father, flying high above the dark ocean. The lights coming from the suit make him much easier to see. Looking up, I see the moon peeking through the clouds. Dad makes a large turn around the peninsula where we live. I stay in the air, phone in my hand.

"How you doing up there?" I ask dad, trying my best not to worry about what he's doing. As J.A.R.V.I.S. said, there is still a bunch of research and tests and other things to go over.

"Handles like a dream."

"Good." I see him fly along the coastline. If he wasn't going so fast, I would love to be next to him. Slowly I land on the concrete roof, stumbling for a few steps as I walk to the edge to sit and watch my father test out the suit.

I lose track of him, but I remind myself that J.A.R.V.I.S. will let me know if anything happens. I take a deep breath, repeating this in my head.

"Where are you now?" I ask, making sure he is okay. We are putting a tracker in that thing when he comes home.

"Flying above Pacific Park." I hear after a moment. Quickly I try to figure out how far that is. Santa Monica. Almost 20 miles in under two minutes. Impressive.

"Making good time, I see."

"Yeah. This thing is going great." I smile. Looking around in his direction, I try to spot him. Before I know it, I hear dad again.

"All right, let's see what this thing can do. What's SR-71's record?" Before I can check I hear J.A.R.V.I.S. answer.

"The altitude record for fixed wing flight is 85,000 feet, sir,"

"Records are made to be broken! Come on!"

"Dad, what are you trying?"

"Seeing how high I can go."

Before I knew it J.A.R.V.I.S. cuts in.

"Sir, there is a potentially fatal buildup of ice occurring."

"Dad, you have to get down!"

"Keep going!"

"Dad!"

"Higher!"

"Dad please!" I shout, but the call ends before I can finish. What happened? I hear J.A.R.V.I.S. come through the speakers on the roof.

"I have lost connection with Mark II."

I am speechless for a moment as I panic, my mind seeming to shut down and go as fast as possible. The suit most likely doesn't have power because of the ice. He is free-falling over 80,000 feet in the air with nothing to catch him. I just got him back, but there isn't a way for him to make it from this. Only for a few months have I had him here with me after what felt like eternity. What would I do if I lost him again because he was reckless and decided to test how high the suit could fly with no information? I'm just ten, not old enough to live alone or be without the only parent I have ever known.