Iron Beta: Life as Tony Stark's Daughter

Chapter 11

A/N

So how do you guys like the arrow shooting suit? Sort of combined the two aspects of her talents.

I still do not own anything except Taylor.

Chapter 11

“Dummy! Get back here with that, you rust bucket!”

I was currently chasing said ‘rust bucket’ around the lab. Normally I would have better things to do, but Dummy had just single-handedly halted all work on my current project by stealing my bag of screws.

I finally cornered the robot and gently grabbed his main arm – the clawed one – and twisted it behind him, not unlike I would to a human, all the while being careful not to severely hurt him.

While he was occupied fighting me off, my other hand reached beneath his chasse and snatched the screws, and I immediately rolled out the way before he could notice.

He just looked at me, startled, before putting off – presumably to go bug my dad using a fire extinguisher.

I rolled my eyes as I stood and brushed the dust off my shirt. “Who knew hand-to-hand combat lessons could work against robots?” I mumble, mainly to myself, seeing as my dad probably couldn’t hear me over the blasting, pounding music flooding from the speakers.

I make my way back over to the project I was working on before that whole fiasco. I was improving my gloves, so that they not only shielded my fingers from bowstrings, the also protected the rest of my hands as well.

I had applied a layer of Kevlar to the palm and back of the hand, as well as making the cuff elasticized so I could slip them on in a hurry. Given how much I loved being up in the rafters and vents but was hindered by my height, I was also attaching net cannons to the wrists.

If I pressed a button on the cuffs, the net shooters would eject a nylon, Kevlar infused net that would stick to any material in the world – thanks to custom suction cups placed strategically around the edges.

If I were to fire this between two rafters, I would have an instant hammock – I can sleep almost anywhere with two stable points to anchor the net.

I can now enter the vents myself, too – just fire the net at the vent cover, pull it down, then fire at the top of the vent and pull myself in.

I also inserted the chips from my suit bracelets – if I flick my writ twice, my suit will come to my location in under 3 seconds.

I was just adding my final drop of superglue – my own recipe, it’ll never come off – to the cannon and pressing it to the left glove when a familiar, smooth, British voice overtook the music.

“Attention all Avengers: Director Fury has an extremely important message regarding the Zygone attacks and will be here to collect all Avengers to the Hellicarrier. I repeat, Director Fury will be collecting all Avengers in fifteen minutes. Thank you.”

I’m left staring at the speakers puzzled. I just shrug and go about cleaning my work table, and from the sounds of things, my dad is doing the same.

“What do you think he wants?”

“I know as much as you. He had better not be bringing us all the way up to who-knows-where for meeting.”

I nod in agreement. “If he is, I’ll fly myself right back down. After I fry his foot.”

My dad chuckles as we grab our suits, I slip on my gloves, fish out my bow case from under my table, and we head out the door.

We meet everyone else in the main room, and nobody looks to know anything more than we do. Everyone seems to have been interrupted while in the middle of something else; Steve’s hands are multicolored and graphite stained – he must have been sketching. Bruce’s hair is unruly and his face is slightly soot stained – a look I know well as the immediate reaction to a particularly violent chemical reaction. Thor has poptart crumbs littering his face and hands; he must have been in the middle of a poptart binge fest. Natasha’s uniform is slightly rumpled and her nails are hurriedly painted; she was probably relaxing in sweat pants, painting her nails in her room.