Yello! Okay, so I'm really excited for this story. An amazing break from reality helps me cope with... well, reality. I hope you enjoy this! Please don't be upset for my lack of amazing grammar and such. I try to research each character I introduce to fully master their personality. If you have any suggestions, please comment! Also: comment in general! I love reading comments because it makes me feel like I'm not alone. Please vote so I know you guys enjoy this! Tschüss!

~Kalvin

~&~

"Capture her," the voice of his father echoed through the room. The man with black hair and emerald eyes stared down at his son, donning intricate armor. He sneered, wanting his son to finally prove himself.

"Yes, father." His son promised, knowing that this was his last chance at redemption. His father had bore into him hatred that had been nurtured and preserved for over a millennium. While he knew that his father's heart was dark, he couldn't help but love him either way. The father, however, felt no feeling at all towards his son. He was merely a tool for him to use, a puppet to command. And, oh yes, he was the puppeteer. The son stood up, making sure to keep his eyes off of his father. He quickly exited the room, not being able to stand his father's cold, hard gaze any longer.

As he watched his son exit, the father sneered. Standing up, he waved a hand, making a large sphere reveal itself in the room. An image soon accumulated. He watched it, the faded figure of a girl appeared on the screen. She swung her large sword, each movement calculated and precise. She never missed a beat, dodging a spear that was thrusted at her.

"Are you ready?" He asked, his voice echoing around the empty room. His sneer contorted into a smirk, making him look like a crazed clown. "It will soon be your time to feel the pain of betrayal, brother." The last word was said with spite and hatred. He chuckled; soon evolving into maniacal laughter as the girl on the screen seemed to dance with her sword.

~*~

The air was freezing, and she shivered, closing her eyes. She quickly opened them, remembering her situation. Large beasts ran at her, startling the blonde girl a bit. Narrowing her eyes, she swung her sword, calculating the force she should hit the beast with. With a loud, metallic clash, she stepped forward, her weapon hitting its mark. A small smile appeared on her lips, fully enjoying the battle and the beasts' bloodlust. Oh, they would have the blood they so desired; but it wouldn't be hers. One swung at her, and she dodged, trying to formulate how strong they seemed to be on average. It thrusted its weapon once again, but this time she didn't have room to slide out of its trajectory. Instead, she back-flipped, her straight, long golden hair following her. When she stopped going upwards and instead started to go downwards, she aimed her feet towards the beast's head. It looked up, and grasped onto her ankles.

Apparently, stupid antagonists didn't exist in the real world.

With a grunt, she contorted her body, twisting its arm unnaturally. It shrieked in pain. She smiled, a bit giddy from her dizzying experience. She stood there, nauseous; the world tilting around her. She groaned, putting her hand to her mouth. She teetered a bit on her feet.

The beasts, sensing her weakness, began to charge in. She put a hand up, the universal sign for "stop". The beasts froze, dissapating into thin air. With a louder groan, she collapsed to her knees, one hand on her stomach and the other covering her mouth. Her sword clattered to the ground beside her. A loud sigh resonated throughout the room, making her eyes tilt towards its origin. A large figure marched through the landscape, making it dissapear, revealing a small room with black fabric blanketing its walls. She sat on the ground, her face turning to various shades of green. The man looked thoroughly annoyed.

"You are mentally too weak for how strong you are," he commented, a bit of jealousy and regret ringing his voice.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she said, her nausea subsiding. "I got careless."

He grunted in anger. "You got careless?" He repeated, hardly making it a whisper. "You got carless?!" He scolded, his voice rising in volume. "You could have died! If it were real battle, your head would have been dispayed for all to admire! You are lucky it was just a simulation." He glared at her with fire in his eyes. She stayed on the ground, not moving. Her face had become stone, void of showing emotion; her eyes cold and empty. She nodded her head.

"Right, Captain." She said robotically. Grabbing her sword, she got up, exiting the room quickly. She knew better than to show any hurt in a place like this. The enemy was always watching, always looking for any sign of weakness.

"Ryne, wait!" He said, calling after her. She ignored him, continuing to walk away. She just wanted to go back to Asgard. But, then again, her sister would just torture her there, as well. She sighed, not wanting to remember her sister. At the end of her journey, she took a sharp left to her room. She opened the door and stepped in.

"Hello, Ryne." JARVIS welcomed. She smiled sadly.

"Hello, JARVIS," she responded, setting her sword down.

"The usual?" It asked, seeming to have a smug tone. She rolled her eyes, Stark seemed to be giving him more of a personality each day. Ryne chuckled.

"Yes, please," she said eagerly. She laid on her bed, facing the ceiling. A loud mechanical humming was heard and the room was flooded in darkness. Setting her sword down beside her, the intricate armor that surrounded her in its protective embrace seemed to glow for a mere second; disappearing once the light was gone. She suddenly felt herself grow weightless as the technology made her room zero-gs. Her hair floated around her face, brushing it lightly. With a loud pumph, the room was filled with a submersible galaxy. She looked around, her eyes wide with wonder.  Ever since she was small, her mom had told her that her dad came from the stars. Ryne had always reached up, trying to catch them in her small hands. Feeling her pillows and blankets float around her, she felt at ease.

Well, until a loud siren was heard throughout the building. She jumped back to reality, the loud siren making her heart pound. She stumbled off of the bed as the gravity came back into the room; pillows and blankets fell to the floor. Running to the door, she tried to open it.

"Open the door, JARVIS!" She demanded, trying desperately to open the door. It wouldn't open, no matter how much strength she mustered. "What's going on?!" She took a step back, breathing heavily from her fight with the door. Ryne looked around frantically.

"I'm sorry, miss." JARVIS said, followed by the sounds of bolts locking. "But I have been instructed to keep you in this room for the time being." The blonde girl clenched her fists.

"Let. Me. Out!" She demanded once again, her nails digging into her skin. "I need to help!"

"My apologies, but Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers request that you be locked up in any case of emergency."

"Bullshit." She felt a lump grow in her throat. Didn't they trust her? Didn't they train her to help fight? Reminding herself that the enemy was always watching, she swallowed the lump and unclenched her fists. With a deep, calming breath, she looked around. "Let me through or I will break down the door."

JARVIS did not reply verbally, but the click of locking machinery was enough of an answer for her. She made a slight tch noise with her tongue, knowing that she would have to break through the door.

She lifted her arm up, her hand outstretched. "Come." Ryne commanded. There was a soft noise as her sword picked itself up, rotating once and then flying to her side. The moment it touched her fingers, her body glowed again; the same soft light as before. As her armor materialized, she held her sword, readying herself into an offensive position.

"I highly advise against this action." JARVIS commented. "If you would like I--" He was cut off by Ryne's loud yell. With a slight, elegant twist, she slashed the dented door open. When she looked up at the smoldering door, she saw a figure in the haze. Narrowing her eyes and setting her cold gaze on whomever it was, she thrusted her sword forward with a flick of her wrist. The haze was forced out of the doorway; she pointed it at the figure.

The person whom she stared at was unflinching, their eyes wide open in surprise.

"Who are you?" Ryne demanded, her icy blue eyes matched with her glare, sending a chill down the visitor's spine.