The sound of someone clearing their throat jarred me out of my reverie. I rolled out from under the car I was working on. As I stood up I noticed a man in a nice suit. I rose my eyebrows in question. I knew I had grease smeared on my face, and my dark hair was tucked up under a baseball cap. Overall, I knew I wasn't impressing anyone. But why would I care? I was just a mechanic in the slums of Chicago.

The man took off his sunglasses, revealing kind eyes. He nodded politely to me, bet didn't say anything.

"Okay, I'll bite." I said. "What do you need? Where's your car?"

The man smiled slightly, then answered, "No car troubles today Miss Mason. I need to speak to you about something else."

I eyed him warily. I didn't know how he knew my name. There wasn't a sign or anything. There was never a need because most people just wanted their car fixed so they could move on with their lives. Also, I was alone this evening. All the rest of the workers had gone home for the fourth of July holiday. I took a step back to my workbench where I knew my gun was tucked in one of the drawers. I didn't think I would have to use it, but you never know when it comes to strangers.

I leaned on the bench. "Okay, let's hear it."

"My name is Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, or better known as SHIELD." He said.

I squinted at him, as if that could help me determine if he was telling the truth or not.

"Have your heard of us?" Coulson asked. I nodded. Of course I knew. Anyone with wifi could easily look them up. The Avengers weren't exactly discreet.

"Your work on repulsor technology drew us to your location. It's quite impressive what you have achieved so young." He commented.

I stiffened. Not many people knew of the repulsor beams I had been "upgrading". It was my hobby, really. Something to do when I wasn't working. Coulson mentioned my age as being impressive in accordance to my accomplishments. I was seventeen and out of college already. What could I say? I was smart enough to easily slide through public education at a young age.

Before Coulson could go on, I interrupted. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

Coulson stood up straighter, if possible. "Of course, there is. I am here to enlist your help, Miss Mason. I need you to pack your computer and fly out to Malibu tonight."

"Excuse me?" I asked, grabbing a rag and a wrench to clean as we talked. "What if I don't want to?"

"You will be compensated greatly for your assistance, I assure you." Coulson argued effortlessly. "And I'm afraid I was only asking to be polite. You will be coming with us no matter your opinion. I'm sorry for any disturbance it causes you."

"Us?" I glared at him. Who did he think he was? He apparently was willing to stoop low enough to kidnapping.

"Yes, there are more agents waiting outside to escort you to the plane." I could see the apparent humor in his eyes. This was fun for him. He enjoyed it.

"What's to stop me from fighting all of you?" I inquired with a smile, taking out my latest gun, all programmed with the repulsor technology I had been working on. Coulson frowned, about to say something into his earpiece, when I set my weapon on the workbench. Though my weaponry may have been superior, I was not about to start a fight with an unknown number of foes and no protective gear—say, a bulletproof vest. Hell, I was in my greasy, stained jumpsuit that had the mechanic company name stitched onto the left shoulder.

I turned around, knowing that Coulson wasn't going to do anything, and pried off the leather fingerless gloves I was wearing. I tossed them into a small duffle bag that housed my everyday belongings (regular clothes, my phone, and wallet). I closed my laptop and slid it into the bag, grabbing my gun as well, before slinging it over my shoulder. I turned and walked past Agent Coulson, who was looking very pleased with himself. I could tell he was a nice guy, but I didn't want to trust him just yet.

After we stepped into the July heat outside, I locked the doors to the shop, and tucked the keys safely in my pocket. True to his word, Coulson's fellow agents stood holding their weapons at the ready. I ignored them, keeping my head high as I walked, just as my mother had taught me.

I had learned a lot from my mother, as she had been the one who raised me—by herself, no less. My father was never in the picture, though my mother said I shared many of his characteristics physically and mentally. He was a mechanics geek too, I guess. I didn't know who he was. After a while I just stopped asking.

Back in the present, my mother was dead too. She had died a year ago from pancreatic cancer. It apparently run in her family, so I was probably looking forward to the same death. She had been a drop-dead gorgeous reporter once upon a time. I figured that's how she attracted my dad, not that he had stuck around to find out what happened to her. Such was the story of my beginnings.

Coulson gestured politely to the backseat of a sleek black vehicle, one that I knew wasn't running on fossil fuels for power. My duffle was taken from me and put in the trunk of the car. I didn't even think to grab my phone to notify anyone that I was leaving town. To tell the truth, I didn't know who I would tell anyway. My boss? He wouldn't care. I didn't have a roommate or anything because I was still renting my mother's old house. Maybe the nice librarian who I said "hi" to every Friday night when I went there to read about up-and-coming technologies with the free wifi. Honestly, my "no-connections" life was pretty pathetic.

Coulson didn't speak during our drive. I asked, "You're not going to drug me, are you?"

He didn't flinch. "No, ma'am." Coulson replied.

"Are you going to tell me why I am being taken to Malibu by SHIELD? I thought you guys dealt with superheroes and that sort of shit." This got a small reaction.

"You will be debriefed on the plane. You should also refrain from using such language. It's unbecoming of someone your age." Coulson said. I could see the light in his eyes that he was joking with me. I could work with that. A small grin settled on my lips. Coulson returned it.

We were driving out of the city, and I knew we were probably heading to the only private tarmac in Chicago. Finally, we pulled to a stop in front of a poorly lit gate, which opened after our driver had a few words with an intercom speaker. I couldn't hear anything, of course. SHIELD had planned everything perfectly, so when the car was parked Coulson and I were escorted to the jet that was waiting to take off. I was thankfully given my bag, though someone in security had trifled through it and had removed my repulsor gun. I didn't blame them. It was pretty dangerous. However, I was pretty sure that the only person who could understand the technology of the weapon was Tony Stark himself. And I doubted a billionaire like him would spare the time of day for a mechanic from the slums, like me.

Coulson sat down in front of me, a table separating the two of us.

"Are you going to return my gun to me?" I asked. Let's be reasonable here. Parts cost money, which isn't cheap—especially to a teenager trying to pay off college debts.

Coulson started, "Miss Mason—"

"Call me Amelia." I interrupted. I hated formalities. They were annoyances more than anything.

"Your gun will be given back to you upon your arrival back in Chicago. Until then, I'm afraid you're going to have to live with out it."

I sighed. "I figured you were going to say something like that."

Coulson smiled sympathetically. "Are you ready to be debriefed?"

"I'm always ready to be told top secret stuff." I held up three fingers. "Scouts honor."

"I already know you weren't a part of the Girl Scouts at any time of your life." He replied.

"You're right." I chastised myself for not remembering that they had a done a full background check on my entire life. "I was never good at the 'interaction with other people' part."

"Why is that?" Coulson asked.

I sunk back into my seat, pulling the seatbelt around my hips as the light flashed overhead. "As you can probably tell, I'm better with machines than with people."

Coulson didn't reply for a minute, just stared at my face as though he was searching my features.

"What?" I asked.

"You kind of sounded like—never mind." His speech faltered for a moment then continued on. "You are being brought to Malibu to work exclusively on a project for SHIELD. You won't get to meet any of the Avengers, but you will be working on the repulsor beams in Iron Man's suit. They need an upgrade, and there is a problem by which they won't allow changes to be made."

I rose my eyebrows. "I don't think Iron Man would want anyone to be touching his suit. I don't want to die because a man likes his electronics. Just saying."

"While that may be true, SHIELD has talked him into allowing you to work on the suit. You will be under surveillance the entire time, so don't do anything stupid." Coulson reassured me.

I put on an innocent face. "Who, me? Never."

Coulson rolled his eyes and pulled a thick file out of his locked briefcase. "These are the procedures Mr. Stark has prepared for you. I was also supposed to give you a warning not to touch anything unrelated to the repulsor technology in the hands."

"Okay," I said. "There's only one thing I don't understand."

"Which is?"

"Why doesn't Stark fix his own problems?"

"Great question." A different voice sounded from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the infamous Tony Stark himself.

"Is there a great answer to said question?" I asked, clicking off my seatbelt. We had been in the air for a few minutes now.

"I'm very busy." Stark replied.

"Oh, busy." My tone was mocking. I didn't care. Stark and I stared at each other for a minute, taking in appearances. Meanwhile, Coulson shifted his glance back and forth, like he was trying to make a comparison.

We both looked away at the same time. Neither of us could stand the looks in the other's eyes. His eyes looked slightly deranged, as he had probably drunk too much coffee and hadn't slept well in days. I recognized this because I saw it in the mirror every morning.

Coulson continued by saying, "He just doesn't want to admit that he can't figure out the expanding repulsor technology."

Stark glared at him. "Hey, I invented that technology."

"And I built upon that technology." I stated. "Have I missed anything else?"

"No." Both men replied at the same time before throwing a glance of discomfort at one another.

"Oh, that was good. Do you guys practice that sort of thing?" I said sarcastically.

"You should be quiet now." Stark responded to my sass. "Not all people get the opportunity to work on a superhero's suit."

"Not all people get taken from their work in the middle of the night." I replied. "You know, this could be considered kidnapping because I'm still counted a minor and I don't know you people."

It was quiet a few moments before Stark turned to Coulson, saying, "The kid's got a point."

I laughed at Coulson's confused face, but I hadn't the slightest clue what he was confused about. I wasn't going to get the government involved. That would be messy. I told him so.

"I'm not worried about that." He replied.

"Look Coulson, I'm not going to get you guys in trouble. I don't want to be associated with Stark because that becomes a mess of publicity." I glanced at Stark, then said, "No offense."

"None taken. I think the best way to do this is to do it as quickly as possible." Stark agreed.

I turned back to Coulson. "I thought you said I wouldn't be meeting any of the Avengers?"

"You weren't supposed to." Coulson replied. "Stark wasn't supposed to be on this plane."

"Ah." I said as Stark rolled his eyes.

"You think I was going to let some kid touch my suit without meeting them first? No way. I'm not even sure she's qualified to—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." I interrupted. "I'll have you know I've already completed college at MIT, and graduated top of my class!"

I was proud. Of course I was. It wasn't every day that a thirteen-year-old entered one of the top colleges in the country and then graduated as the best of the best.

"You went to MIT too?" Stark asked. I nodded as he went on. I had forgotten that he had been an MIT graduate too. "What did you study?"

"I majored in science technology, and minored in mechanical engineering as well as physics." I told him. I had busted my butt in those classes to achieve the highest scores. There were a few reasons I didn't have very many friends. A) In competitive classes, no one liked whoever was on top. B) No one likes a kid who is smarter than they are.

Not missing a beat, Stark replied, "Wow. Sounds busy."

"Yeah." I didn't encourage any more questions. It made me uncomfortable to talk about myself for too long of a period.

"Why aren't you working at a better job than a lowly mechanic?" Stark asked, finally sitting down on a couch across the aisle. That was the question to avoid though. If I had all these aspirations throughout high school and college to be something great and prove it as well, why wasn't I working at a high-paying facility? Why was I a low-income mechanic instead of a business tycoon like Tony Stark?

"I have my own reasons." I replied, causing two annoyed looks to be thrown at me. They were about to protest that I should tell them when I continued, "Look, not to be rude, but I don't know you two, and it's not your business, so can you drop it?"

The men nodded and we were all silent. I didn't want to answer the question because I would have to talk about my mom. After she had died, I went into a rough patch and made some bad decisions. Decisions that were made possible because I was in a power position. Being a lowly mechanic without as many possibilities kept me and others safe from the damage I could do. I didn't expect Iron Man and his babysitter to understand that.

Considering the time it would take to get to our destination, I said, "Well, I'm going to go to the other side of the plane and get some rest. Try not to talk about me too much."