❞𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓❜𝐒 𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒?❞ Alexandra Stark, the daughter of Anthony Edward Stark, is just like her father - with some added superpowers - from her genius IQ to her bad fucking luck...
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❞Have you been smoking grass?❞
✵✵✵✵
AFTER SPENDING, an unmeasurable amount of time in a swirling vortex, screaming and panicking, the ground appears under her feet, rudely telling her to calm the fuck down, leaving her sitting on a lighted platform with her ass hurting and head spinning. Her hands drop from the sides of her head as she realizes she is not in New York anymore; she can tell from the sudden absence of aliens begging for an ass-kicking.
She finds herself in a cave, instead.
Worriedly, she looks down at her hands, breathing a sigh of relief when she finds them solid and opaque, no longer translucent. The rubble on her shoulders and sticky alien blood dripping down her elbow make her cringe and aware that New York wasn't a hallucination. She taps her comm, but there is no whiny feedback and no way of communicating with her father.
" — Who are you?"
Her gaze follows the voice, finding a group of people, tall and looming, dressed like quacks with their weapons aimed at her. Bows, arrows, guns, crazy-looking boomerangs — you name it, these weirdos have it.
"Who the fuck are you guys?" Alex's mouth practically drops open.
"Hey, we asked first!" A man dressed like a tampon on a heavy day snaps, folding his arms to his chest defensively.
"I'm Alex Stark, Hellfire," She interrupts herself with a groan as she gets up from the floor, brushing off the rubble and pushing a hand through her hair. She fixes them with a confident smile, "You've probably seen me on TV, crime-fighting, being fabulous, the family business."
The man dressed like a bat — bat guy, if you will — takes a step closer to her, tense and ready to throw hands, maybe even shurikens, "If you're a vigilante why haven't we seen you around?"
There's a lot for Alex to unpack in that statement itself, but she prefers to focus on the glaring issue, "Hero's the better term for it, isn't it?"
"Not according to the police," The Robin Hood look-a-like mutters under his breath.
"The police? Those bozos?" Her confusion increases tenfold, "They idolize us, we're their superheroes, not vigilantes, not —"
"Criminals?" Tampon-guy cuts her off, answering her question in one breath and a matter-of-fact tone, "Well, vigilantism — the whole kicking ass, taking names thing — is a crime."
Her eyebrows furrow as her mind begins running a mile a minute. Bat-guy speaks in a tone that screams for a lozenge or a cough syrup cocktail, "Where do you normally operate, Alex?"
She looks at him with wide eyes, "Around the whole damn world. Look, man, I'm an Avenger, wherever and whenever a bad guy springs up, we beat him up."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, first of all, who the hell are the Avengers?" Alex's eyes practically bug out of her skull at Tampon-Guy's words, "And second of all, Avengers? Really?"
