Stark's Daughter

Iron Man Has Arrived

So, it was a normal day at Shield, Sage getting supplies and reworking them to fit her purpose. Right now, she was working on building a bed that could fold into a chair. She had bought the bed and wired it to send commands to her own AI system, Zi, and also was building a mini fridge under it.

"Ms. Fury, if you could please report to the meeting room," a voice said over the intercom as she groaned.

"Zi, please send me a rack of ribs and red creme soda to meeting room number, hmm, 29 please." She looked at her outfit. Faded, dark blue band tee that she found in her father's closet, and a pair of way too big sweatpants. But they were so soft. "Eh, good enough," she said with a shrug as she walked up to the room, opening the door.

"What took you so long?" Her father questioned with a glare as she shrugged her shoulders.

"I had to order food for this thing and make sure my bed wouldn't burst into flames like last time."

"Flames and bed? Aren't you a little young for that?" Her head whipped around as she grinned.

"Sup Stark." She grinned as he did as well, before her father cleared his throat.

"As you all now know, this is my daughter, Sage. Hurt her and you all die," he said, as they shifted their gazes to the floor.

"Oh shut up," Sage said with a laugh. "If you hurt me on purpose, mind you, I will make sure you never see the light of day or become involved in anything again. Or, you know, publicly humiliate." They all seemed taken aback as Tony Stark laughed.

"You are totally my kid," he said in a joking way as Phil choked on his doughnut. Heh, doughnut. Donut. English is a messed up language, that's for sure.

"So, anything we need to do?" Steve asked, like the good soldier he is.

"Not for now, no." Fury answered back as Sage stepped forward.

"Actually, there is one thing. I always have a dinner on Sundays, at my place."

"You're only twenty," Steve interrupted as she sent him a raised eyebrow.

"I thought you weren't supposed to interrupt, soldier."

"Superiors, Miss Fury."

"Ah, I see. To your superiors, you say Mr., Mrs., or Miss. So, you see, I am your superior. You would've referred to people of your rank as their name, or people you considered lower than the likes of you by last names. You may argue that Miss and Mrs. are just polite, and I get that, but the practice goes back before the war, mister." Steve tried yet again to interrupt, only to be interrupted himself.

"Quiet down Rogers," Fury said as his adoptive daughter nodded in respect, happy that she got to explain what she was trying to say.

"Anyway, we have Sunday dinners, which all of you are now, under order, attending. Its handmade picnic, please say now if you have a food or drink related allergy now and do not be the stupid schmuck who thinks its funny to say 'I'm allergic to bees.' Don't be that stupid person, or you are getting every article of clothing and uniform with the exception of Banner, wait a minute he sort of has a uniform but not stupid. Anyways, it will be filled with itch powder, and failure for me to do this will result in chicken pranking."

"Looks like Mr. Stark has finally met his match," Bruce Banner said teasingly as Tony's expression had gone blank. The rest of them laughed before dispersing, thinking it had just hit him that she was worthy of overpowering him.

He called Pepper, all laughter that had been etched on his face erased, leaving only a white sheet.

"Pepper, I found her."