Y/n stood near the edge of the group, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag, her white-framed glasses sliding down her nose as she looked up at the massive tower. It was impossible not to feel small next to it. The glass and steel structure pierced the sky, a monument to the impossible.

Then, the massive glass doors slid open with a soft hiss.

A man in a dark suit stepped out, clipboard in hand, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the sea of teenagers before him. He cleared his throat.

A few people immediately broke off from the group, dragging their luggage toward the doors. Others lingered, chatting excitedly about which Avenger they hoped to spot first.

Y/n remained where she stood, the tower looming above her, the city humming behind her. The next two months stretched out ahead—an open door, waiting to see what walked through it.