"Oh. My. God."

The young woman whispered to herself in awe as she beheld the futuristic behemoth of steel and glass. Tall and proud, it stood as a beacon of prosperity and ingenuity, created by the wealth of the greatest nation on earth. The early morning sunlight glinted off of the upper crown of windows that encircled the building, and caused the young woman to squint as it pierced the lenses of her glasses. She tucked a renegade strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she traveled her gaze down the monstrous edifice. At the tower's base, doors did not remain static for more than a moment or so, as people hurried in and out to fulfill their duties. To add to the building's staggering appearance, the letters S, T, A, R, K announced boldly to the world to whom this center of technology, innovation, and general bad-assery belonged.

In short, Stark Tower was rather impressive.

The woman on the sidewalk swallowed slowly as the stood motionless in front of the imposing tower. Her brief case-laden palms began to sweat, and slight chills caused her knees to quiver. In her mind, she had every right to be nervous. It was her first day on the job as personal assistant to the CEO of Stark Industries. At first glance, this may seem like one of the easiest, and not to mention best paying, jobs available in New York City at the time. But this business tycoon is not ordinary CEO. This CEO is a rather childish man known for his eccentric ways and diva outbursts; not to mention his skills in womanizing. She had heard the horror stories; one of which included the man firing one assistant within an hour because she added too much sugar to his coffee, and then sleeping with her that night. The memory of hearing the story caused the woman to swallow again, a lump of terror forming in her throat. But the most terrifying thing of all by far, was the fact that she would be working in the same building as Them. She shivered again at the thought of those people. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," the young woman's fear whispered softly.

In a moment, the young woman's pride asserted itself to the forefront of its quivering mistress's mind. "C'mon, scardey-cat! It's just a job! A civilian job at that! Damn it, you can do this!"

This sudden surge of confidence caused the woman to instantly straighten her posture from its previous borderline-cowering state. She shook her head sharply in an attempt to dispel the lingering fear, but to no avail. The fears hooked its claws into her mind and, while considerably lessened, remained as a tingle in the recesses of her brain , just enough to slightly upset her stomach. A moment later, she could hear the "clack-clack-clack"-ing of her new work shoes against the pavement as they walked her across the street, taking care not to jay-walk of course. She added an extra swing to her hips as she walked, feeling like the baddest bitch on the street, and strutted her way towards the large revolving doors. The mouth of the beast, her fear whispered.

The to-be assistant was greeted by a swarm of activity the moment the stepped through the doors of Stark Tower. She arched her eyes in surprise. Even the lobby seemed to be a place of business. Men and women in dark suits bustled about, entering, leaving, conversing. The young woman was glad that this place was so professional. However, he woman paid the scurrying masses little attention as she kept her eyes locked on her target: the front desk. A cheery, middle-aged woman with sandy-blond hair sitting behind it made eye contact with the young woman as she drew near and smiled as she placed her brief case on the black tile floor.

"Good day, ma'am, and welcome to Stark Tower," the desk attendant chirped in a sugary sing-song voice, "How may I help you?"

The young woman smiled firmly and gave the woman across the desk a curt nod of greeting before she spoke.

"Yes, hi. I'm here for the executive assistant position," she stated, her voice a firm tenor, the last sentence ending almost too much like a question for the young woman's taste. She reached down to her brown, faux leather brief case, unclasped it, and rummaged around in it for a moment before returning and placing a thick manila folder on the cherry-wood desk. The young woman smiled again before continuing, "It's my first day on the job, and I was told to start here, to figure out where I'm situated and everything." The desk attendant opened the folder and peered thoughtfully down onto the top paper before looking back at the woman, a large smile having etched itself across her slightly-wrinkled face.

"Of course! I was told you'd be here to day," the woman, who judging by her name tag was named Lisa, sang as she handed the file back to the young woman. The young woman attempted to hide a cringe with a weak smile. She had not expected such friendliness in this sort of place, and it sort of grated on her nerves. Lisa held up her index finger to signal that she needed a moment before spinning around in her swivel chair and rummaging about beneath the desk, while the young woman stood patiently surveying her surroundings.

It was odd, how even the interior of such a grand building could strike awe into the young woman's heart. The ceiling consisted of a large orange marble dome that was situated upon six Greek-style stone pillars that were placed in the corners of the oddly hexagonal building. Several fichus trees dotted the indoor landscape, usually accompanied by stiff looking yet posh couches and chairs. It was grand by any standard, if not a little showy. "It's going to take a while to get used to this", thought the young woman with a sigh.

She snapped back to attention as she heard a large object being placed upon the desk. It appeared to be a topless cardboard box filled with desk items, ranging from pens and rulers to a custom-crafted name plate that could sit proudly at the front of her desk. On top of the heap lay a small slip of paper, which the young woman took and began to read: 314th Floor. Desk #31. The young woman relayed her thanks to Lisa as she attempted to manhandle the cumbersome box off of the desk and grab her brief case. As she clumsily made her way towards the large grand elevator, she couldn't help the giddiness bubbling inside of her as it brought a silly grin to her face. Sure, she was scared, but she knew that she was going to enjoy this job. She had always been a professional individual, with a strict work ethic and a stubbornness most mules would be jealous of. She was in her element now and, knowing her, nothing was going to stand in her way. The elevators doors fortunately opened just as she neared them, and she hurried in, eager to put down her cumbersome burden.

With the box and the briefcase nestled safely in the corner of the elevator, the young woman sighed and began to straighten her suit jacket and skirt, as well as make sure her overall appearance was presentable with the reflective inner walls of the elevator. Satisfied, she rummaged through the box once again and uncovered a small, plain-black name plate. The young woman smiled as she held it in her hands, caressing is smooth surface. With a final triumphant sigh, she pinned the name tag to her breast pocket and straightened her posture. "Carol Danvers" was ready for anything this job could throw at her. As she smirked triumphantly into her reflection, she said four simple words:

"Let's do this shit."

And the elevator doors slid closed.