Chapter 1

A/N: This first chapter is all backstory on my OC! We get familiar characters in the next chapter, so stick around! And make sure to review please :)

June 12, 1989

Zeke Sullivan groaned in irritation as someone knocked three hard times on the front door of his crappy hole-in-the-wall apartment in Brooklyn. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand. There were three more knocks and he cursed under his breath, pushing himself up to a standing position, accidentally knocking over an empty Vodka bottle. He didn't bother putting on a shirt or smoothing down his messy brown hair.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He snapped in his hungover state, stumbling over to the door and wrenching it open. On the other side of the door stood a massive man, with dark skin and the most rigid posture Zeke had ever seen. "Can I help you?"

"You are Zeke Sullivan." The man said in a ridiculously deep voice, making Zeke's eyebrows shoot upward. He didn't even sound human.

"Uh, you asking a question man or…?" Zeke trailed off.

"Your sister is Camille Sullivan."

Zeke went rigid at the mention of his sister's name. "I haven't seen my sister in years," he spat. "So if she sent you here to try and–"

"Camille Sullivan is dead."

Zeke's arm that was propped up against the doorframe fell. "I… what?" He rasped out hoarsely. "Camille is… dead?"

"She passed three hours ago, minutes after giving birth to a baby girl."

"A baby?" Zeke spluttered incredulously, wide awake and completely sober. "Camille was pregnant? What? Who was the father? Why didn't she–"

"As your parents are also deceased and you have no other family, you are the only remaining member of the Sullivan line," the man continued, "You will take in the child and raise her as your own."

"Raise her?" Zeke shouted, stepping away from the door and turning his back to the stranger. He ran his hands through his hair without realizing that they were shaking. "You just come barging in here at three in the morning, telling me that my sister is dead, and now you're telling me to raise a baby?" He spun around with wide eyes. The man still stood in the doorway, his crisp black suit and perfect posture making him look terrifying.

"That's exactly what I am telling you," the man said in his strangely deep voice. He stepped inside the doorway and pulled a folder out from the inside of his suit coat. "You will relocate to Cody, Wyoming immediately. The child is at West Park Hospital awaiting your arrival. In this folder you will find a plane ticket, keys to a house, and a substantial amount of money, as well as other necessary documents."

Zeke's jaw dropped as he took the folder with his still shaking hands, opening the flap to find exactly the items that the man had said. A one-way ticket to Wyoming, three separate credit cards, the deed to a house, and a picture of a newborn child. Zeke covered his mouth in shock.

"What is this?" He asked in a barely audible voice.

"A mandate," the stranger said bluntly. "You will do this, Zeke Sullivan. You will relocate to Wyoming and raise this child as your own. If you do not, you will suffer consequences you wish not to know of."

"I… who are you?" Zeke finally looked up at the man, realizing with a start that his eyes looked almost orange – a stark contrast to his dark skin. "Did you know Camille?"

"None of that is of import," he said as he slowly backed away out of the room, "I suggest that you make sure to do as you have been ordered, Mr. Sullivan. Otherwise," he turned his back to Zeke and spoke menacingly over his shoulder, "You will find yourself under the full weight of another world."

Zeke was too terrified to ask the man what he meant as the door slammed shut and he was left with more confusion than he had even known.

June 13, 1989

The next day Zeke pulled his rental car up to West Park Hospital, looking around with wide eyes and wondering what force of the universe was playing this cruel joke on him. Taking a deep breath he walked in, running a hand through his hair – a nervous habit he had had for as long as he could remember.

"Um excuse me," he walked up to a nurse behind the desk at newborn care, "My name is Zeke Sullivan, I… I don't know if I'm–"

"Oh of course, Mr. Sullivan," the nurse said brightly, standing up and walking around the desk, "We've been expecting you. Follow me, please."

"Expecting me?" He echoed.

They walked around a corner and came to a large window where rows of newborns were lying in cribs. The nurse told him to wait there as she went through a door into the room. He watched as she walked to the very back corner and lifted a baby in a pink blanket. He inhaled sharply as she came back out into the hall.

"Mr. Sullivan," the nurse grinned, "I'd like to introduce you to your niece, Magdalena."

"Magdalena?" Zeke asked with a pained chuckle. "My sister named her daughter Magdalena?"

The nurse laughed. "Yes well, to each their own I suppose. Here, hold her."

"Oh no, I don't think I'm ready for–" But the nurse ignored him, handing over the small little pink bundle to Zeke. He took her reluctantly with hesitant hands, trying not to completely freak out more than he already was. "There you go, make sure to hold her head up."

Zeke was breathing heavily and on the verge of an anxiety attack when the blanket fell back away from the infant's face, giving Zeke a clear view of her face.

He gasped, tears stinging the back of his eyes. Magdalena's eyes blinked open slowly as babies' do with a flash of blue-green, her tiny mouth widening in a yawn. She looked right up at Zeke with her bright eyes and that was when he knew he was done for, expelling a heavy breath.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" The nurse asked.

"Yeah," he whispered, "She is." He paused for a few seconds before holding the baby close to his face, "I've messed up a lot of things in my life. But I won't mess you up. I promise, Magdalena."

"How about Lena?" The nurse asked and Zeke tore his eyes away from the child in his arms.

"What?"

"Lena. For short. Magdalena's kind of a mouthful, you know."

Zeke nodded numbly, turning his attention back to the baby. "Yeah. I like that. Lena."

And just like that, Zeke Sullivan had a family again.

June 12, 2007

"Lena! Lena if you don't hurry up, you're going to be late to your own graduation!" Zeke called out from the bottom of the staircase in the lavish home that he shared with his niece. Lena had always wondered how he could afford such a nice place when he was just a mechanic in a small town like Cody, Wyoming, but whenever she asked he would just shrug and say he invested early. She never thought to question him beyond that.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Lena shouted from her bedroom, checking her makeup one last time in the mirror before grabbing her camera and running out. She ran down the hallway and swung around to the top of the stairs. "Well?" She called down to her uncle, who looked up at her from adjusting the sleeves on his blue button down shirt. "How do I look? Like a high school graduate?"

Zeke smiled up at his niece – his Lena. Over the past 18 years, that little bundle in the pink blanket had grown up into a beautiful young woman. She posed dramatically at the top of the stairs in her white halter top graduation dress, the dark blue colors of her high school robes swirling around her. Her long sandy blonde hair laid straight underneath her cap, the tassel hanging down in front of her heart shaped face. She looked like his sister – her mother – at that age: average height, slender yet curvy, all bright eyes and smiles. Yet she was also… different. Zeke had never found out who his niece's father was despite how hard he had tried, but he assumed the man was a good looking guy since Lena was so gorgeous.

"You look beautiful, honey." Zeke told her, grinning as he put his hands in his pockets. The years had treated him well despite the responsibilities he had never expected. His curly brown hair had grayed at the roots (he blamed it on Lena's goth phase when she was 14), and there were wrinkles on his face that hadn't been there when he was a 24 year old living in Brooklyn working out of a chop shop. But he wouldn't change a single thing about the past 18 years. He loved Lena more than anything in the world.

"Well I ought to look beautiful," Lena said teasingly as she descended down the stairs slowly, not wanting to trip in her high heels. "It's my eighteenth birthday! Aren't I supposed to suddenly be all-beautiful and all-knowing?"

Zeke laughed. "Pretty sure you've had both of those traits down since you were born."

"Right, of course. What was I thinking? I've always been perfect," Lena teased with a grin, her perfect teeth gleaming as she stepped forward and embraced the most important person in her life.

"Happy birthday, Lena." Zeke whispered, his heart constricting as he thought about his tiny little Lena, all grown up right in front of his eyes. "I got you something," he told her as he pulled back, gesturing for her to follow him into the kitchen.

Lena sighed. "Zeke, I told you I didn't want anything. Pretty sure tuition at Stanford counts as a birthday present for the next four years."

"Oh be quiet and take it." Zeke handed her a rectangular box that was horribly wrapped, making her roll her eyes, albeit fondly. "And besides," he continued as she tore at the wrapping, "I didn't spend a dime."

Lena raised her eyebrows as she opened the box, revealing a bracelet inside. It looked like white twine, with a heavy knot in the middle and a metal clasp.

"I…" She trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"It was your mother's." Zeke said softly, making Lena snap her eyes up to his. "When I was doing some digging trying to find your dad last year–"

"Zeke I told you, you're my dad. You don't have to–"

"I know, but just listen. When I was doing some digging I found out that she had a safety deposit box out in Indiana. Don't ask me why there, because I don't know. But when I went, they told me she had given specific instructions that I could open it. When I did, the only thing in there was that bracelet."

Lena's mouth parted as she lifted the bracelet from the box, holding it up in front of her eyes. It was beautiful. Nothing extraordinary to the naked eye, but beautiful all the same. She could feel Zeke smiling at her.

"Here, let me put it on for you," he said, reaching out to take the bracelet. He clasped it around her wrist and smiled.

"It's beautiful, Zeke." Lena looked up at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Now come on, Miss High School Graduate! We've got places to be!"

Lena laughed as they left the house, hopping into his Jeep and heading towards her high school where the graduation ceremony was being held. They pulled over at a gas station to fill up on the way, Zeke asking if Lena wanted anything to drink from inside knowing good and well she wanted a Cheerwine like she always did. Lena rolled her eyes as he teased her about her sugar intake, her guardian still grinning as he went inside the small convenience store.

Lena was so focused on checking her lipstick in the side view mirror that she didn't even notice the man wearing a trench coat in the middle of June follow Zeke inside. A few seconds later she was leaning her head back against the seat with her eyes closed, thinking about how amazing college was going to be, when she heard the gunshots.

Bang. Bang.

Lena's eyes snapped open, looking out the windshield to the store in front of her.

Bang.

She undid her seatbelt as fast as possible, driven by pure instinct as she stumbled out of the Jeep.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Her graduation cap fell off as she ran towards the store, slamming into the door and stumbling inside, almost tripping over her robes. Shelves were toppled over, the glass case at the cashier station was shattered. The man in the trench coat was lying on the ground, blood pooling around him. She could see that he had been shot in the chest and in the head.

"Zeke," Lena whispered, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird's. "Zeke," she called out a little louder.

"H-He's back there." Lena whipped around to see a woman standing up slowly from behind the shattered glass counter. She was pointing to the back of the store and Lena followed her gaze with dread.

Her heart lurched as she saw her uncle slumped against the coffee station about fifteen feet away from her, a bright red stain spreading across his blue dress shirt. "No," she whispered, "No, no, no."

Lena was beside her uncle in a heartbeat, but to her it felt as if it took ages to reach him. She fell to her knees beside him, barely registering the pain as she took him in her arms.

"Zeke? Zeke look at me, come on. Come on Zeke, you have to look at me," she pleaded, barely registering the woman at the front of the store talking to the police on the phone, sirens blaring in the distance. "Zeke?" Her voice raised. "Zeke! You have to wake up!" But he wasn't going to wake up and Lena knew it. His eyes were open, the life gone out of them. "No! No you can't be dead!" She cried out, tears streaming down her face and smearing the makeup she had worked so hard on. "You can't be!"

The police were pouring in by that point, but the world had disappeared around Lena. All she could see was Zeke's blank stare as she shook him violently, her vision blurring.

"No! You can't be dead! You're all I have Zeke, no! Please!"

Policemen looked on in sadness as a sobbing teenage girl in a graduation cap and gown held a dead man in her arms, his blood all over her pretty white dress.

And just like that, Lena Sullivan was all alone in the world.

June 12, 2009

Florida was hot. Really hot. Too hot for a girl that had lived in Wyoming for the first eighteen years of her life.

After Zeke was killed, Lena had no one. She was a legal adult so it wasn't as if they could put her in a foster home or she could be adopted. She was on her own. But just the thought of going to college, getting her degree, moving on with her life the way she was supposed to felt wrong to her. Life without Zeke was just wrong.

Fortunately for Lena, Zeke had left a ton of money behind. Like, a ton. So the day after his funeral she had taken the money and hopped in Zeke's jeep, leaving everything else behind because nothing mattered anymore. And then she drove. She drove and drove and drove until she was finally tired of driving. She ended up in Clearwater, Florida of all places. She'd been to Florida before, Zeke had taken her to Disney World for her tenth birthday, but she'd never really been to Florida. But considering she was just running away from everything she knew, it was as good a place as any.

She'd gotten an apartment, a crappy waitressing job that she didn't really need, and everything else that she needed to survive. Not live, but survive.

And now it was her birthday. Or rather, the anniversary of Zeke's death. That was the way she saw it now. The years passed and she got older, but did it really matter if you didn't have anyone to love or love you back?

That was the question running through her mind as she plopped down on a random bench, a bottle of scotch in her hands. It was late, almost midnight on a Tuesday, so there were hardly people out and about.

Lena sighed, leaning her head down.

"What am I doing, Zeke?" She whispered. "What am I doing?"

"You know I'm not an expert, but I don't think you should be asking that question to a liquor bottle."

Lena snapped her head up so fast her neck cracked and she winced. An older man had sat down next to her on the bench, his white hair hidden underneath a corduroy hat. He looked to be in his 60s or 70s, a wry smile on his face.

"Yeah well," Lena started, looking back down at the bottle, "This bottle seems to be the only thing that's listening."

The old man chuckled heartily. "Obviously not, since I'm here." A few years ago Lena might have laughed along with him, but now she just didn't have it in her. "What's your name?"

Lena hesitated. "Isabelle," she lied for a reason she couldn't pinpoint.

The man chuckled again. "You're lying, but that's alright. My name's Jem. With an 'e,' not an 'i.'"

"Well it's nice to meet you, Jem with an e." Lena said dryly, lifting the bottle for a swig.

"A young girl like you drinking Scotch?"

Lena chuckled bitterly as she lowered the bottle. "Gonna tell me I'm too pretty for hard liquor, Jem?"

"Nope," he said, "I was gonna say it's refreshing to meet a girl that can hold her alcohol. Hand that over."

Lena was too stunned to refuse as he reached over and grabbed the bottle, taking a swig for himself and hissing at the burn. "Whew, I haven't had scotch in a long time."

"Did I just pull you off the wagon?"

"Oh no, I never got on." Jem laughed, handing it back over to her. She could see the genuineness in his eyes. "Now why don't you tell me why you're out here in the middle of the night?"

Lena looked down at her feet, vaguely aware of her messy hair that she never bothered with anymore, the bags under her eyes that she stopped trying to cover up with makeup ages ago, and her wrinkled clothes.

"Jem have you ever watched someone die?" She asked, pure melancholy lacing her voice.

"Yes I have. My wife, six years ago. Breast cancer."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Ah, don't be. I had 42 wonderful years with her. I'm luckier than most." Jem said. Lena was silent, absentmindedly touching the bracelet on her wrist. "I take it you lost someone?"

Lena hesitated, but nodded. "My uncle. He was shot, two years ago today. He was the only family I had." Jem was silent. "And what's funny," she laughed, though there was no trace of humor in it, "Is that he would hate what I'm doing right now. Not going to college, barely taking care of myself. He'd be so pissed."

"Then why're you doing it?"

"Because he isn't here." Lena shrugged. "He's dead. Doesn't matter if he'd be mad or not anymore. There isn't anyone to care what I do with my life, so why should I?"

She could feel Jem's eyes on her, but he didn't speak for about a minute.

"You ever fight someone?" He asked suddenly. Lena looked up at him incredulously.

"What?"

"Fighting. You ever done it?"

"I… no. No of course not, I've never fought anyone."

"Hmph. That's a shame. Girl like you, drinking hard liquor. I'd have figured you would know how to fight."

"I…"

"You wanna learn?"

"Learn?" Lena's eyes bugged out. "How to fight?"

"Yes how to fight, ain't you been listening?" Jem asked incredulously, standing up and gesturing for her to follow him. She was too stunned to do anything other than mimic his movements. "This is my gym," he pointed up at the building they had been sitting in front of. An old rusty sign read, "Jem's Gym – Where the Best Train."

"O…kay," Lena said slowly, glancing at the older man from out of the corner of her eye. "Clever name. Jem's gym."

"I like to think so." The old man pursed his lips in thought, turning to face Lena. "I been looking for someone to help me out around here. You know, paperwork and that kind of thing. Stuff I'm too old to do now that it's all on the computer." He paused. "You look like you know your way 'round a computer. You could work here, help me out. And in return I can train you, teach you how to fight."

Lena laughed, looking back up at the sign. "You just met me on a bench in the middle of the night while I was drinking underage in front of your gym. Yet you're offering me a job?"

"My wife told me once that she thought I had a gift." Jem said thoughtfully, ignoring her question. "A gift of knowing when people are good and when they're bad. Gut feelings, you know. And my gut feeling about you is that you're a good person in a bad place," Lena stiffened, but he went on, "I want to help you. Give you something to live for, an outlet for all that anger you got inside you. What do you say?"

Lena froze, looking at the man's eyes. They reminded her of Zeke's eyes before the life left them in that gas station two years ago.

"Lena," she whispered.

"Come again?"

"My name isn't Isabelle, it's Lena. Lena Sullivan."

And just like that, Lena Sullivan had found a new family.

June 11, 2011

"Yo Lena, we celebrating tomorrow or what?"

Lena Sullivan laughed heartily as she unwrapped the tape from her fingers, her ever present white bracelet on her wrist.

"Andre how many times do I have to tell you?" She called out behind her to her friend, "I don't celebrate my birthday."

"And how many times do I have to tell you," the dark skinned Hispanic boy ran up beside her, "That I reject that."

Lena rolled her eyes, tossing the used tape into the trash can and hauling her bag up over her shoulder before turning to Andre. "And I'm okay with that."

The past two years at Jem's had been a whirlwind of change for Lena. The training had been brutal, but she had needed it and Jem had known that. He gave her a new direction, an outlet for everything she had been keeping pent up inside her since Zeke's death. And oddly enough, she was good at what she did now. She could fight better than most guys who had been training at Jem's for years within her first few months there. Jem liked to say it was because of his impeccable training, but Lena had a feeling that it ran deeper than that.

She was built now, lean muscle in places she didn't even know she could have muscle. She had grown more into herself in the past few years, her face narrower, her proportions more evened out, a better awareness of her body. Her hair was shorter, just long enough to throw into a ponytail, but her natural sandy blonde color was still intact.

"Whatever you say, Lena." Andre sighed, grabbing his own bag and heading towards the front door. "One of these years, I'm taking you out for your birthday!"

"Sure thing Andre, whatever you say." She teased, laughing when he rolled his eyes and left the building. It was past closing time, but Jem always let her and Andre and a few other of his favorites stick around longer if they wanted to.

As she headed up the stairs to say goodbye to Jem, who was still in his office, she thought about that night on her twentieth birthday that he had offered her a place here. She'd had no idea then what she was getting herself into. A whole new world of fierce training regiments, aching muscles all day every day, learning all different kinds of fighting styles. But more significant than all of that was the relationship that she'd forged with Jem. He wasn't a replacement for Zeke, no one could fill that gap, but he was a father figure – or maybe a grandfather figure. He cared about her more than he cared about anyone else that came to the gym and he was probably one of the only people that would've stuck with her through those first few months where she wouldn't open up to anyone.

And now, two years later, she had a whole new family at Jem's Gym that she loved as if they were her own blood.

"Jem?" She called out, knocking on the open door to his office. "Jem?" She repeated, not seeing him at his desk chair. Her brow furrowed as she stepped up closer to the desk. The light was on, and Jem never left a room without turning the lights off.

She saw his shoes first. The ratty old loafers that she had begged him to replace a hundred times, but he refused. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw them, somehow knowing that something awful had happened.

"Jem!" She shouted, rushing around the desk to see him sprawled out on the ground face down. "Oh no. No, no, no, don't you dare do this to me Jem." She whipped out her phone and dialed 911, giving them the address to the gym as quickly as she could before hanging up. "Jem?" She asked, turning him over and feeling for a pulse. She felt one, but just barely. "Jem wake up! Look at me!" His eyes fluttered open just a fraction, but she could tell that it wouldn't be long before the life left them just like they did Zeke's.

"Lena," Jem said hoarsely, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "You're a… a good girl," he rasped out. "Don't let anyone… tell you different. You're good. Good in here." He raised a shaky hand to point his index finger at her heart.

Lena was shaking, tears falling from her eyes. How many times would she have to do this? Hold someone she loved in her arms as they died?

"You can't leave me," she whispered, her tears landing on Jem's yellow striped shirt that he wore at least twice a week. "I can't lose anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Lenny," he said. Jem was the only person allowed to call her anything other than Lena. "Don't forget that… that…"

But Lena would never hear what she wasn't supposed to forget. Because the light in Jem's eyes left before he could finish the sentence. Her entire body was shaking with sobs at that point, her arms encircling Jem's frail frame as she pulled his lifeless body to her. When she heard the sirens in the distance she looked up, her eyes catching the clock on the wall.

It was 12:18 am. June 12th. She had lost yet another person on her birthday.

And just like that, Lena's world crashed around her all over again.

Lena lifted the bottle of scotch to her lips only to whine in disappointment because it was empty. She tossed it in the sand beside her as she stumbled down the beach. It was still her birthday, still the anniversary of Zeke's death, still the day of Jem's death. No matter how much she willed time to speed up for her, the day just wouldn't pass by any faster. Now she was stumbling down a deserted section of the beach at 3 in the morning, the stars twinkling in the clear sky above her as if nothing was wrong, as if the world was still turning normally even though her entire world was crashing and burning.

She lifted her face to the sky and took a deep breath, her glazed over eyes watering as the sea wind blew.

"Is this what you want?" She cried out to the sky. "Is this what you want?! To see me suffer? To see me in pain? You give me a good life a-and good people just to rip it all away from me?!" Her drunken voice carried, but no one else was around to hear it. "Well if that's what your goal is then you suck!" She screamed. "I'm sick of you making my life miserable! I'm sick of you being in control! I'm sick of it!"

Lena's breaths were heavy and labored as her anger turned to melancholy. She sank down to her knees in the sand, letting more tears fall. She crossed her arms tightly across her body as if that would somehow hold her together when she was falling apart, digging her nails into her skin hard enough to draw blood.

"I'm sick of it," she whispered.

Lena sat there for a few minutes, letting the wracking sobs turn to silent tears of pure and utter agony. Finally, she stood up, stumbling a few times but eventually getting there. She walked out into the water up to her knees, the salty ocean soaking her jeans.

"You don't get to be in control anymore," Lena muttered, "Not anymore. I decide what happens to me now. Not fate," she walked farther into the waves, "Not destiny," even further, "Not the universe. Me."

Lena pushed her way out past the point where she could touch the sand below her, the choppy waters soaking her from head to toe. She spluttered out salt water as a wave slapped her in the face. Eventually though she swam out past where the majority of the waves from the tide were coming in and the water was calmer. She looked behind her and saw that she was farther out than she realized, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She treaded the water as she looked back up at the sky, the endless stars.

"My fate is in my hands," she whispered to the universe.

And just like that, Lena's head dipped below the waves and she let the ocean take her.

Everything is silent when you're underwater. It feels as though the endless sounds of the world cease to exist, making everything seem so much simpler. That was what Lena was thinking to herself as she slipped deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean, hoping that it was true that drowning was supposed to release some chemicals that actually gave you the feeling of joy as you died.

But she never got the chance to find out because suddenly she was engulfed in a light so bright it hurt her eyes even more than the salt water already was. She lifted her head, her hair floating around her in the water and saw that the light was only around her, as if she were in a tunnel.

Her lungs were burning as she squinted her eyes, her body so desperate for oxygen. Just as she was about to slip into unconsciousness though, the light began to pull on her, dragging her up towards the surface.

No, she weakly thought to herself, her entire being so exhausted. No, let me do this, she begged.

But the light had a hold on her now, pulling her rapidly up through the water and to the surface. Lena vaguely registered that something was wrong, so wrong, but all she could do was go limp and let the light do what it willed.

And as Lena broke the surface, she inhaled deeper than she ever had in her entire life, the oxygen feeling like the best and worst thing in the world as it entered her deprived lungs. And the second she took that breath, she was gone.

Years later, Lena would deny screaming as the light pulled her up and out of the Earth's atmosphere, flinging her through the endless space of the universe, but she remembered clear as day just how loud she had shrieked. It was the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to her – being swept through the stars. All she could do was scream as her body was yanked off of the earth and to another world in a matter of mere seconds.

And mere seconds it was. One second she was being lifted out of the Gulf of Mexico and flung through space, and the next she was landing on a hard surface, her knees bearing the majority of the fall. She fell to her stomach, her wet clothes feeling as if they weighed a ton. She coughed and spluttered out the leftover salt water from her lungs. Her throat was burning, her vision was blurry, and her ears were ringing. The word 'disoriented' had never been so applicable than in that moment.

Driven by instinct, Lena began to crawl by pulling herself across the glass surface beneath her by her forearms. As her vision cleared she realized she had crawled upon a pair of brown boots with gold metal designs on them. In between the two boots was the glinting tip of a huge sword. Lena raised her head tiredly, feeling completely sober but completely miserable. Her eyes followed the boots to a pair of brown pants, up to metal armor and an incredibly broad chest, to the hilt of the sword being held by two massive dark hands, and finally to a man's face. He was black, his skin beautiful and dark, a gigantic gold helmet on top of his head. And his eyes were… yellow? Orange?

"What the hell?" Lena rasped out, feeling her body start to give in to the exhaustion.

The man gave what looked like a wry and slightly terrifying smile. "Welcome to Asgard, Magdalena Sullivan." He said in an unusually deep voice.

Lena's eyes rolled in the back of her head as she passed out.