My "father" led me past the rainbow bridge and onto a quiet street. I could see a golden building on the horizon. I wondered if that was the palace he was talking about.
My father stared straight ahead, unblinking. I stared at the ground, trying to think up a clever distraction to get away from this madman.
The people on the streets seemed to part away from us, as if we carried some type of disease. But then I noticed how the people looked on, respectively, in a way only a great role model achieves. And I did not think my father was a great role model.
No, he was their king.
When we reached the golden palace, I gazed at it for no more than a second, as my "father" proceeded to pull me inside. I dragged my feet, taking little tiny steps to make the journey slower, but then I was simply pulled along.
We stopped in front of a large door. My "father"opened it, motioning for me to step inside. It closed behind me with a snap.
After a minute of standing shocked, absorbing my situation, I raced to the door and tested the handle. Locked. I ran to the windows, throwing them open. There seemed to be a sort of force field keeping things in, and my hand couldn't move any further than the window pane, yet I could still feel a steady breeze.
Groaning, I took the time to look around my surroundings. There was a bed, large, and four posted in one corner. There was a large wardrobe, and a door that led to the bathroom. There was a desk and a stationary, in which were prescribed, H.S.L. That must be me. Hela Sigyn whatever my last name is. I had always gone by Romanoff, as Nat had unofficially adopted me. Clint was my care taker when Nat was out, and then Tony was when both of them were on missions.
Grabbing a bobby pin from my hair, I set out to pick the lock of the door. But as soon as the clip entered the key hole, there was a acidic sound, and I withdrew the pin, the metal sizzling. So my father did have magic of his own. Well then, I'll have to see how rusty he really is.
