Thor: Ragnarok - The Avengers: Infinity War - The Avengers: Endgame
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Tony stark gave his life so we could make something of ours.
*EDITING SPRING OF 2023*
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When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that I was bound to a metal chair.
Instead of the handcuffs they had slapped on me before, my hands and feet were now tied to the arm and leg rests with metal clasps. To my left sat Thor, bound to a chair similar to mine. He tried to wiggle free from his restraints, but the solid material secured tightly around his wrists and ankles refused to budge under his muscles.
To say the room we found ourselves in was large would've been an understatement. Peculiar scribbles, written in a language neither of us could discern lined the walls, which had been painted a dazzling shade of gold. A large window stretched out in front of us, revealing a cityscape unlike any I'd ever seen before. The place smelled like Lysol, sweat and burnt plastic. All around us, men dressed in black masks bearing large pitchforks and other weapons stared.
The only one of them without a mask was a man dressed in dark red, gold, and blue robes. He sat directly in front of us in a futuristic wheelchair. He looked older, around fifty years of age, and he had a bright blue line of face paint running from his lower lip down his along chin. His grey hair stood up in spikes and he wore black eyeliner around his eyes. His appearance didn't necessarily shock me. I lived in New York City, after all.
A short, stocky woman dressed in yellow and black armored robes stood beside him, white face paint decorating her forehead, sunken cheekbones, and squared chin. Her hair was slicked back into a tight bun and she wasn't smiling.
"What have you brought today, scrapper 142?" The old guy asked one of our captors, a tall woman with tanned skin who stood silently in between the two of us.
Back at home, I would guess her to be a model. She was slender, with deep brown eyes and long, brown hair that was bound back in a tight ponytail. She'd taken the mask off, revealing her beautiful face. It hung from her neck, along with a golden necklace with two small wings. I held my breath, eager and terrified to hear her reply.
"A contender," she replied, a bright, arrogant smile donning her flawless complexion.
"What?!" Both Thor and I cried out in unison.
Thor, upon hearing my voice shriek in surprise, noted I was awake and shot me an apologetic look. He looked down at my chest and saw how quickly I was breathing. He wiggled in his chair again, to no avail. I inhaled deeply to try and regain some much-needed oxygen into my bloodstream, but my body failed miserably to comply.
"I'll get us out of here, okay? Don't worry," he told me lowly, his voice penetrating and thick.
The old guy didn't appear to care about our conversation, "I need to go closer, I wanna get a closer look at this. Can you take us closer?"
