#marvelfiction

a/n: please please no not copy or steal my writing. all of my writing comes straight from my brain. constructive criticism/feedback is welcomed and encouraged, thank you so much for deciding to read my work! 

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“Torunn Foster to the principal’s office, Torunn Foster to the principal’s office.” The loudspeaker announced. 

I looked up from my book that I was reading on the bleachers in the gym. Coach Wilson paused the centuries-old TV that was playing an outdated recording of Captain America telling the class that drugs were bad.

“You heard ‘em! Go, Foster, go!” Wilson yelled at me. I dog-eared my page in my book, and stood up, not acknowledging the unnecessary yelling from Coach. He waited until I had trudged down all the steps of the bleachers and was at the door where he thought I was out of earshot to mumble a “that Foster is always in some kind of trouble”, and played the TV again.

Captain’s voice echoed in my ears all the way down the hall, until I was standing outside of the principal’s office. I looked down at my navy blue basketball shorts and shirt with the science symbol in it, wondering what it would be that I was called in for this time. 

I glanced at my scuffed up white tennis shoes, took a deep breath, opening the door to the office.

***

The final bell rang, signaling the end of the day (finally). I pulled my hair into a quick ponytail, put in my headphones, and swung my backpack over my shoulder.

Stepping out of my Physics class, I was met with the usual sound of high schoolers excited to hang out or go home after the day was over. I turned up my ‘80’s’ playlist to drown out the noise, and headed for the front door. 

As I shoved through all the bodies blocking my way, I thought about the words that Principal Morita said to me. It turns out, he had nothing new to say. Just the usual “your grades are dropping” and “Let me set you up with a tutor so you can succeed”. 

I opened the front door, and was greeted with gray clouds in the sky. This was typical, usually when I felt frustrated the sky would look like this. Just some big cosmic sign or some shit, as my mother says. 

I started walking on the sidewalk, humming the tune of Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing”. I fiddled with the paper form that Principal Morita gave me. On the top of the sheet were the words ‘NOTICE OF UNSATISFACTORY WORK’, basically a piece of paper saying that I was failing all of my classes. 

The sidewalk turned into the white stripes of a cross walk, but instead of looking to see if it was a red or green light, I kept walking. I was too distracted to notice the shouts that when I looked up, it was too late. All I saw was the white of headlights coming at me, and then nothing at all.

***

Everything was black. I couldn’t see, but I could distinctly hear the sound of a car horn ringing in my ear. Then, the sound of the horn faded into the steady beep, beep, beep of some sort of heart monitor. 

I blinked a couple of times, and started to see blurry light. After a few minutes, the room I was in came into focus. I was alone, save a multitude of machines. The room was sterile and white, reminiscent of a hospital, but something about it felt off. 

I tried reaching for the blanket that covered my jeans and t shirt up to my chest, when I realized my arms were cuffed down to the table in some sort of metal. Panic set in, and I started thrashing the whole bed around trying to get the cuffs off. Ever since I was a little kid I could bend metal. None of my family really knew how or why, but I was just strong, I guess. But not now.

A door that blended into the wall was opened, exposing a gray hallway, a stark difference from the whites of the room I was trapped in. This was definitely not a hospital, since the man that opened the door was not in scrubs or a white jacket, but instead was wearing a suit. “You should stop pulling on those. They are made of Vibranium. The more you pull, the stronger they get, since they absorb your energy.” 

“And who the hell are you?” I spat at the man. He seemed to be in his 40’s, had a hard, aged face, and a little bit of a receding hairline. 

“You can call me Phil. I’m not the enemy here. I’m here to help you.” He stepped closer, and pulled a chair from beside the bed that I hadn’t noticed earlier, taking a seat in front of me.

“I’m just kid, I don’t know what you could possibly want from me.” I made my voice sound as innocent as possible, hoping he would let me go from whatever this makeshift hell was.

The lights flickered above my head, and the heart monitor beeping seemed to speed up. 

“Just a kid who got hit by a car moving 60 miles an hour, and is up and coherent only two days later. You took some serious damage kid, and not even 72 hours later, your bones have healed and your bleeding has stopped.” He leaned his head on his hands, studying me intensely.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but seriously I think my mom is going to be really worried about me if I don’t get home soon.” I rambled, discreetly continuing to pull on the shackles holding me down. If I could just get my hands loose, I would pound this grandpa into the ground and bust my way out of here.

“Your mother, Darcy Foster?” He paused, and I nodded my head quietly. He continued, saying, “That’s not your mother.”

I looked at Phil like he grew three heads. Of course she was my mother, there are baby pictures to prove it too. “Yes she is. And how do you know her name? And if you are here to help me, then why am I strapped down to this damn table?” I raised my voice, again trying to pull on the metal to no avail.

“No, Torunn, Darcy’s real name is Darcy Lewis. We don’t know who your true mother is, but that woman’s DNA doesn’t match yours.” He gave me some sort of pitiful look, completely ignoring my questions about why I was cuffed and how he knew my mother’s name. I didn’t believe him. Or, at least, I didn’t want to. I did always find it suspicious that she didn’t like talking about her life before me, let alone the fact that she ‘has no idea’ who my father is. To be fully honest, I have been skeptical of this very thing for a long time, but the last thing I am going to do is let this old Phil guy know that.

When I did not respond, he continued talking. “Your mother’s name is Jane Foster, which is where your last name foster comes from. Your father’s name is Thor.” Phil leaned back in the metal chair, this time waiting for me to acknowledge what he was saying.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Seriously, the dude with the hammer? Whatever, just let me out of here.” 

The hint of a smile on his face faded with my laughter, but I honestly didn’t care if I hurt the old man’s feelings. I needed to get home and go back to my life. This guy said I was out for two days, which with my grades, is enough to get me completely suspended from Midtown High.

“I think it’s time we go on a little field trip.” Phil left the room, and shut the door.

Before I could even think about what Phil meant by ‘field trip’, the door opened again, and in walked another man, this one wearing an eye patch. Behind him, two people in black suits, one woman and another man, came and started to fuss with my handcuffs. 

“I assume you work for Phil?” I asked the man. At the same time, I felt a pinch in my arm, and started to feel faint.