Victoria came to when felt her arm being prodded by something. She looked over to see her father poking her with a straw.
"Dad?"
"So, you're back from the pits of hell."
He handed her a smoothie, and she recognised the scent of pomegranate and apple – her favourite smoothie. She took a long sip, diminishing the fact that her throat felt like sandpaper, before she remembered what happened.
"Are you okay?"
She had flung her body upright quickly, causing a large wave of nausea to flow through her.
Her dad eased her back down, "Easy, girl, easy. You've been under a helluva lot of medicine – you've been out for two days now."
"Two days? How did you get better in two days?" She frowned. "You were shot."
"Magic."
"Dad."
"What? You don't believe in my magical powers?"
"Father."
"Fine, fine. Helen – you remember Helen right? Well, they created a tissue generator and she used it to patch me up," he lifted his shirt to show the area which left no scarring. "Good as new – no difference."
"So that area of skin is like plastic?" She raised an eyebrow. "It's fake?"
"More or less, yeah."
"Just please don't turn into a Barbie," she shuddered. "I don't want my fifth grade nightmare to become a reality."
"Wasn't planning on it," he chuckled. "Hey, if you're up to it – Tony's party is later tonight. You're invited, but only if you won't pass out after an hour."
"I'll come, I need to stretch my legs anyway. Can you help me to my room?"
Clint practically carried his daughter to her room in the tower, leaving her alone to get ready.
As she got her hair equipment set out, Natasha waltzed in, "Back from the dead, I see?"
"You and my dad are so alike."
Natasha smiled and nodded towards the equipment, "Need help?"
"Please."
Natasha sat her down in front of her mirror, patiently waiting for her curler to warm up.
"Who was the boy – the fast one?"
"His name is Pietro Maximoff. Him and his twin sister were orphaned at ten when a shell hit their apartment building. He's got some weird, fast enhancement on everything."
"His sister?"
"Wanda – she's got powers or whatever – you know me," Nat smirked. "I don't listen during debrief."
Natasha began curling Victoria's hair, each twirl making an expert curl. Victoria frowned.
"I don't want it like that," she paused. "Here let me show y—"
She was cut off by a scalding pain in her hand. She looked down to see a large burn mark on her hand.
"Shit!"
"Are you okay?"
She gave a nod towards Natasha, before glancing back to her hand. Victoria gasped, her eyes seemed to be deceiving her.
The burn mark on her hand glowed a pale, yellow colour – the yellow forming intricate designs around the mark, before swallowing the mark completely. When the yellow disappeared, there was no mark at all.
Victoria shook her hand out, then proceeded to grip the iron again. She hissed, but went silent as she watched her hand heal itself. She frowned, trying to make sense of what just transpired. She looked at Natasha, who's expression matched her own.
"What the hell?"
Natasha was shocked, so shocked that for once the assassin was rendered speechless. She looked at Victoria's face when the girl spoke, then alternating her gaze to her hand again.
"I have no clue, kid. But let's get you done, we can ask Bruce and Tony after."
***
The party was already in full swing by the time Victoria made it down. There were a lot of people present, ones that Victoria had no intention of actually speaking to.
She walked over to Steve, who was playing pool. When she looked from behind the solider's body, she saw a familiar face. She ran over to her favourite flying person, "Sam!"
"Hey, Tori!"
After sharing a hug, his mindset went back into the game. Victoria noticed that Sam was winning, Steve glaring at the table like it would help him.
"Okay, come on guys," she looked to the old men who were edging their way toward the table. "Let the old men play, and no, I do not mean Steve."
"Ha ha, very funny, Victoria."
They made their way toward the stairs, the trio chatting idly as they walked.
"—Then I made my way to Steve, but that Strucker asshole knocked me out."
"Sounds like a helluva fight," Sam said. "Sorry I missed it."
"If I had known it was gonna be a fire fight, I absolutely would've called you—"
"—No— I'm not actually sorry," Sam chuckled. "I'm just tryna sound tough. I'm very happy chasing cold leads on our mission persons case."
"Any luck there?"
Sam shook his head, "Still missing, ain't he?"
"Smart ass."
"Avenging is your world," Sam nodded to the two. "And your world is crazy."
"Be it ever so humble."
"You find a place in Brooklyn, yet?"
"I don't think I can afford a place in Brooklyn."
"I know one thing's for sure," Victoria shrugged. "There's no place like home."
"Really, Tori?" Sam sent a look to the brunette. "The Wizard Of Oz? Seriously?"
"What? It's true!"
Victoria walked away from them and over to her father and Helen. They seemed to be in deep conversation about something.
"—There was something strange in her blood, none of my tests could identify it, though."
"Well—"
"Hey guys."
Clint glanced up to his daughter, who held a bright smile on her face. He sent another glance to Helen before moving up so his daughter could sit.
"Hey, sweetie."
"What are you guys talking about?"
"Uh— We— I—"
"—We were discussing your father's patch of skin that was created by my machine."
"You mean my dad's transition to a Ken doll?" Victoria shoved her dad playfully.
"Remember who buys you food."
"Yeah, Tony does."
"Smart ass."
"I am your daughter."
They fell into a comfortable conversation for the remainder of the night.
