The excitement from my new wings was a live wire under my skin. I wanted nothing more than to run to the roof, spread them wide, and leap into the sky. But I forced the feeling down. My memories of this world were clear. This was New York. Iron Man's suits flew around here. S.H.I.E.L.D. probably had cameras and satellites everywhere. Flying now would be stupid. How many eyes would be watching? I didn't know. I decided I would try it later, in a place where no one could see me.
First, I needed to feel normal.
I walked into the bathroom. It was huge, with marble walls and a shower big enough for five people. I turned on the water, and steam quickly filled the room. The hot water felt good on my skin, washing away the sweat from my transformation. I stood there for a long time, just letting the heat soak into my muscles. It helped calm my racing thoughts.
After my shower, I felt cleaner, more clear in mind. I went to the kitchen. It was all shiny steel and dark wood. I found some veggies and bread and made myself a simple breakfast. I ate at a large glass table, the plate looking tiny on its surface. I turned on the large television mounted on the wall.
The news was on. A reporter was talking about a highway mess near the Stark Expo. I watched closely, my fork hovering mid-air. There was no news about a giant hammer in the desert or a green monster. Just normal, boring stuff. Good. It meant the big, world-changing events weren't happening today. I had a little time to get my bearings.
According to my memories, my parents had left me more than just this apartment. I finished my food, put the plate in the sink, and decided to go see the other part of my life.
The private elevator was right outside my apartment door. I pressed the button for the lower level, where the club was. The elevator was quiet and smooth, moving down without a sound. When the doors opened, they didn't open into a hallway. They opened directly outside the club.
I stepped out into the quiet space. The air smelled like lemon cleaning spray and old alcohol. The main lights were off, but the morning sun streamed through the tinted windows, making long, lazy beams through the dimness.
I looked around. The club was fancy. Really fancy. The main counter was a long, curved bar of black wood with gold strips inlaid in it. The same black and gold pattern was on the pillars and the trim along the walls. There was a large, sunken dance floor in the middle, surrounded by plush velvet sofas and low tables. It felt like a five-star hotel, but for nightlife. Right now, it was completely empty and silent.
Then I saw him. Alistair.
He was sitting on one of the sofas near the back, under a soft reading light. He was a man in his fifties, with neat gray hair and a serious face. He wore a simple, well-fitted black suit. He was reading a newspaper, a cup of tea steaming on the table beside him. My memories told me everything. Alistair had been my parents' butler and the manager of this club. He had stayed on to look after me and the business. He was fiercely loyal.
The floor creaked slightly under my foot. Alistair looked up. The moment he saw me, he moved. He placed the newspaper down neatly, stood up hurriedly, and gave a short, formal bow.
"Good morning, Master," he said, his voice calm and respectful.
The memories told me this was normal. The old me, the quiet one, would just nod and walk past. So, I did. I gave a simple nod in return. But then I stopped. I didn't want to just walk away.
I walked over and sat on the sofa opposite where he had been sitting. The velvet was soft under my hands. Alistair remained standing, his hands clasped in front of him, waiting.
"How are things going in the club?" I asked. My voice was calm, but it felt weird to be the one asking the questions.
Alistair nodded. "Everything is proceeding well, Master. We are running a little low on the imported German beer, but the new stock will be delivered by this evening. There are no other issues."
I nodded slowly, looking around the expensive room. "Well," I said, meeting his eyes. "You are taking care of the club. So I don't have to worry about anything about it."
A look of slight panic flashed in his eyes. He shook his head. "Oh, no, Master. It is all under your leadership. I merely carry out your wishes."
I understood. The old me never got involved, and Alistair was trying to give me credit for his hard work. He was being polite, but I didn't need that.
I waved my hand, cutting him off. "No need to butter me up, Alistair. I know how capable you are." I held his gaze, making sure he understood I was being serious. "I believe in you to run this club. So, take care of it."
I stood up to leave. I saw the surprise on his face, followed by something else… appreciation? Relief? He gave another, smaller bow.
"Okay, Master," he said. His voice was still formal, but it sounded a little warmer. "Thank you."
I left him there and walked back to the elevator. I felt good. I had secured his loyalty and freed up my own time. I wouldn't have to bother with the day-to-day stuff.
The elevator took me back up, but this time, I went to the main lobby of the building. I pushed through the heavy glass doors and stepped outside.
The city hit me all at once. The sound of honking cars, the rumble of a bus, people talking on their phones as they rushed past. The smell was a mix of pretzels from a street cart, exhaust fumes, and the faint smell of hot concrete. The sun was higher now, warm on my face.
I stood there for a moment, just taking it all in.
Then, I started to walk. I didn't have a destination. I just needed to move, to see this world with my own eyes. I blended into the crowd, just another person in the city.