Having resigned myself to the inevitable, I moved as calmly as possible, channeling the years of rigorous training from my great-grandmother into every deliberate step. The bustling rescue center, filled with weary-eyed personnel, was surprisingly easy to navigate when you were just a child, easily dismissed or ignored. I made my way to the helipad area, the giant rotors of the emergency helicopters looming silently in the dim light. Creeping inside one of them, a sleek, twin-engine model, I found the controls. My fingers, small but surprisingly agile, danced across the console, engaging the sequence for startup. A low hum vibrated through the air, growing rapidly into a powerful whine.
Almost immediately, as the rotors began their slow, rhythmic churn, the piercing wail of alarms started ringing throughout the rescue station. Red lights flashed, casting ominous shadows across the snow-covered ground. Footsteps pounded, shouts erupted, but before they could converge on the helipad, before they could even understand what was happening, I had engaged the collective pitch. Within a mere four minutes from the moment I stepped inside, the craft lifted off the ground, ascending rapidly into the swirling, snow-laced air, leaving the blaring alarms and confused faces far below.
And if you are wondering where I learned to fly helicopters, I can even explain the short version in just three words: Drunk Tony Stark!
As the helicopter sliced through the frigid mountain air, the vibrations of the powerful engines a familiar rhythm beneath my hands, I couldn't help but think back to my very first piloting experience. And I will tell you, with absolute certainty, I was this close to ending The Iron Man with my own two hands that night.
It was a few days after his daughter's first birthday when she had called him 'Dad' for the very first time. The dude was so ecstatically happy that he invaded my home with an unmanned suit, snatched me right out of my bed, and kidnapped me. His grand plan? To have an impromptu, all-night drinking party with me to celebrate. And after getting truly, spectacularly drunk, that man goes absolutely crazy. Add an overly enthusiastic AI, a daredevil streak a mile wide, and the imminent threat of a fiery death by a helicopter crash, and you get what I got: a terrifying, adrenaline-fueled crash course to becoming a helicopter pilot.
As I thought back to that night, a genuine shiver ran down my spine, partly from the cold mountain air, partly from the memory of sheer terror and exasperation. I spent the next three months after that incident meticulously learning the basics of flying all kinds of aircraft, using Stark's cutting-edge simulations, of course, and his AI's as an incredibly sardonic teaching assistant.
A deal that exchange for this invaluable, albeit traumatizing, education, I wouldn't get to tell Pepper about the whole drunken kidnapping incident. Though, of course, she found out about it anyway, much to Tony's enduring chagrin. Don't know which mysterious superhero informed her, certainly not me, I thought, a wry smirk hidden beneath my face mask. But that, as they say, is a story for another time.
Now, since I didn't know where to find Danny and his family, I decided to go to the place where Danny said his mother died and wait for them. I have to say the location was utterly cliché, just like a movie plot: 'the suspension bridge'. I decided to get there fast, but it looked like the world had a problem with my decision. So, as they say, when the heavens decide — 'Anything that can go wrong will go wrong!' — you should just obediently accept it.
As I was flying the helicopter, a persistent, shrill beeping started. I looked over all the gauges, my eyes darting across the console, and finally realized the horrifying truth: I was running dangerously low on fuel. If you are wondering why I made such a rookie mistake of not checking the fuel, then I will tell you: when you use the stuff that belongs to Tony Stark, they all have these glowing blue batteries, so I never needed to check the fuel. This old-fashioned system was a complete blind spot for me.
I was forced to make an emergency landing on soft, deep snow, the helicopter sinking slightly into the pristine white blanket. As if that wasn't enough, a few minutes after I landed, the winds started to pick up, howling like a banshee, and now I had to deal with a full-blown blizzard too.
All that is left is an avalanche, I thought, a grim, sarcastic humor bubbling to the surface. What could be worse than that? I never knew the world would accept my challenge at that very moment.
I closed the helicopter doors behind me, the muffled roar of the blizzard now a distant, howling companion. Settling into the pilot's seat, I began to remake my plan, a fresh wave of determination washing over me. The helicopter's utility, even grounded, was not lost. I checked the small storage unit near the cockpit, methodically gathering the compressed food rations, a thermal bottle, my trusty army knife, a foldable stretcher, and a coil of sturdy rope that I found tucked away inside. These sparse provisions would have to be enough.
After that, I opened the wiring panel behind the console. With a focused intensity, I began to manipulate the circuits, intentionally draining the remaining electricity from the chopper's battery. As the current flowed inside my body, a strange, familiar warmth began to spread, the electricity stimulating my dormant chi. After a few minutes of intense concentration, I finally felt it – a subtle hum of energy, a familiar pathway opening within me. Looks like all the experience of using it from my memories was helpful, I thought, a small spark of triumph amidst the chilling reality.
I checked the time on my phone, the screen dimly illuminating my face in the enclosed space. It had been about 26 hours since I left the house. By now, everyone in the family should know about my disappearance, I mused, a fleeting pang of guilt mixing with the cold resolve. I knew they'd be worried, but there was no time for that now. I spent another half an hour, painstakingly focusing my will, managing to open a meridian – a vital energy pathway in my body. Just as the morning sun began to pierce through the heavy clouds, casting a faint, silvery light on the snow-covered peaks, I picked up my newly gathered supplies, consumed a few rations, and fot ready to set off into the blinding white expanse.