Night Flyer

The oppressive weight of her backpack dug into Namara’s shoulder as she stared up at the gleaming monolith of Avengers Tower. She’d spent her childhood gazing at Stark Tower’s lights from the street, a distant, impossible dream. Never in her wildest imaginings had she envisioned entering it like this: flanked by armed SHIELD agents, her body bruised and aching, everything she owned crammed into the bag on her back. She was nothing more than an experiment, a specimen under observation.

A sharp prod to her arm jolted her. “Get a move on, kid,” a SHIELD agent barked.

Namara nodded, a silent acknowledgment. She took a deep, shaky breath, the metallic tang of fear on her tongue, and began to ascend the stairs. With each step, the backpack seemed to grow heavier, a leaden burden dragging her down. The towering walls of the entrance hall seemed to press inward, threatening to suffocate her.