The REM Trials

Chapter 12

I can't process this. It just seems too crazy, and that's coming from a girl with superpowers and a genius, billionaire father. I mean, how did I manage to wind up here—on a plane to Germany to fight the people I've come to call family—alongside the other half of said family and my 'best friend' as his superhero alter ego.

"Buckle up, bug. We're about to touch down." Dad calls from across the aisle of the private jet. I manage a nod as I click my belt back on and resume staring out the window while trying to sort through my jumbled thoughts.

My best friend—and kind of crush—is Spiderman. It's been days since I learned the information and still can't come to terms with it. I mean, I had suspicions ever since we've met. But that doesn't mean I ever really wanted Peter to be the new REM the media dubbed 'Spiderman.' He's one of my best friends; I would never intentionally wish the weight of abilities on him.

Then, there's the fact that Dad decided it was a great idea to recruit him. Don't get me wrong, I love—like, definitely just like—Peter, but he doesn't have much in the way of real combat skills. Why Dad thought giving him a high tech suit—which he had me help develop last minute, would make him prepared for the fight of a lifetime is beyond my comprehension—genius brain in the equation or not.

And, the cherry on top of this messy, metaphorical sundae, all of this is to help apprehend the people who have helped save the world countless times, who trained me, and who made me feel like a part of a real family.

All because of document that limits our abilities to do our duties. It's the same document that threatens my freedom if I so much as breathe in an unapproved manor. It's terrifying that people can change their minds—their opinions so quickly.

Something about it leaves me feeling numb with the fear that keeps an iron grip in my chest. I know Dad is doing everything he can to help this situation and to find some leeway with how we work and operate.

I keep getting this feeling that there's something more. Like there's more to this story than what we're being shown—and not just with Bucky, with everything. It keeps haunting me. Whenever I'm awake—it nags me like a stone in my gut, and when I'm asleep, it's like my subconscious is screaming in a language I can't understand.

"Lia," My dad calls softly, and from the look on his face I can tell this isn't the fist time he's tried to get my attention. "We're here, kiddo. Let's get you settled in so you can try to get some rest. You look exhausted. Sound okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good." I tell him softly and wrap him in a brief hug. "It's gonna be okay. Right?"

He lets out a deep sigh as he returns the comforting gesture. "Yeah, it will be. Because I promise, no matter what, you've got me, kiddo."

It's a small comfort. But I take every ounce of the reassurance his words bring and remind myself that he's Tony Stark—that I'm a Stark. And being a Stark means I can do anything I put my mind to, and that paired with my dad, we can be unstoppable.

"Here's your room. Try to get some rest, bug." My dad whispers as he drops my duffel bag in the room, hands over the keycard, and draws the curtains for me before he leaves with a smile.

I give him a soft smile and promise to be ready when he calls as he quietly leaves. I slip my glasses off, able to take in the details of the room with the minimal light filtering through the curtains. My eyes stop when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

It's one of the rare times I can properly see my reflection. I let out a sigh as my fingers trace the long scar along my left temple. It's my little souvenir from the car accident that came with the broken bones and explosive supernova. Of course, it happened to be the one time my speed healing didn't work and left a scar. I brush my hair back into place to cover it before stripping my jacket and falling onto the bed.